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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:04 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:04 -0700 |
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diff --git a/1950-h/1950-h.htm b/1950-h/1950-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e22f03d --- /dev/null +++ b/1950-h/1950-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8427 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + <meta charset="utf-8"> + <title>A Woman of Thirty | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1950 ***</div> + <h1> + A WOMAN OF THIRTY + </h1> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Ellen Marriage + </h3> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <h3> + DEDICATION<br><br> To Louis Boulanger, Painter.<br> + </h3> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A WOMAN OF THIRTY</b> </a> + </h3> + <table style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. </a> + </td> + <td> + EARLY MISTAKES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. </a> + </td> + <td> + A HIDDEN GRIEF + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. </a> + </td> + <td> + AT THIRTY YEARS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FINGER OF GOD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. </a> + </td> + <td> + TWO MEETINGS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE OLD AGE OF A GUILTY MOTHER + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br> <br> <a id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + A WOMAN OF THIRTY + </h1> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + I. EARLY MISTAKES + </h2> + <p> + It was a Sunday morning in the beginning of April 1813, a morning which + gave promise of one of those bright days when Parisians, for the first + time in the year, behold dry pavements underfoot and a cloudless sky + overhead. It was not yet noon when a luxurious cabriolet, drawn by two + spirited horses, turned out of the Rue de Castiglione into the Rue de + Rivoli, and drew up behind a row of carriages standing before the newly + opened barrier half-way down the Terrasse de Feuillants. The owner of the + carriage looked anxious and out of health; the thin hair on his sallow + temples, turning gray already, gave a look of premature age to his face. + He flung the reins to a servant who followed on horseback, and alighted to + take in his arms a young girl whose dainty beauty had already attracted + the eyes of loungers on the Terrasse. The little lady, standing upon the + carriage step, graciously submitted to be taken by the waist, putting an + arm round the neck of her guide, who set her down upon the pavement + without so much as ruffling the trimming of her green rep dress. No lover + would have been so careful. The stranger could only be the father of the + young girl, who took his arm familiarly without a word of thanks, and + hurried him into the Garden of the Tuileries. + </p> + <p> + The old father noted the wondering stare which some of the young men gave + the couple, and the sad expression left his face for a moment. Although he + had long since reached the time of life when a man is fain to be content + with such illusory delights as vanity bestows, he began to smile. + </p> + <p> + “They think you are my wife,” he said in the young lady’s ear, and he held + himself erect and walked with slow steps, which filled his daughter with + despair. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to take up the coquette’s part for her; perhaps of the two, he + was the more gratified by the curious glances directed at those little + feet, shod with plum-colored prunella; at the dainty figure outlined by a + low-cut bodice, filled in with an embroidered chemisette, which only + partially concealed the girlish throat. Her dress was lifted by her + movements as she walked, giving glimpses higher than the shoes of + delicately moulded outlines beneath open-work silk stockings. More than + one of the idlers turned and passed the pair again, to admire or to catch + a second glimpse of the young face, about which the brown tresses played; + there was a glow in its white and red, partly reflected from the + rose-colored satin lining of her fashionable bonnet, partly due to the + eagerness and impatience which sparkled in every feature. A mischievous + sweetness lighted up the beautiful, almond-shaped dark eyes, bathed in + liquid brightness, shaded by the long lashes and curving arch of eyebrow. + Life and youth displayed their treasures in the petulant face and in the + gracious outlines of the bust unspoiled even by the fashion of the day, + which brought the girdle under the breast. + </p> + <p> + The young lady herself appeared to be insensible to admiration. Her eyes + were fixed in a sort of anxiety on the Palace of the Tuileries, the goal, + doubtless, of her petulant promenade. It wanted but fifteen minutes of + noon, yet even at that early hour several women in gala dress were coming + away from the Tuileries, not without backward glances at the gates and + pouting looks of discontent, as if they regretted the lateness of the + arrival which had cheated them of a longed-for spectacle. Chance carried a + few words let fall by one of these disappointed fair ones to the ears of + the charming stranger, and put her in a more than common uneasiness. The + elderly man watched the signs of impatience and apprehension which flitted + across his companion’s pretty face with interest, rather than amusement, + in his eyes, observing her with a close and careful attention, which + perhaps could only be prompted by some after-thought in the depths of a + father’s mind. + </p> + <p> + It was the thirteenth Sunday of the year 1813. In two days’ time Napoleon + was to set out upon the disastrous campaign in which he was to lose first + Bessières, and then Duroc; he was to win the memorable battles of Lutzen + and Bautzen, to see himself treacherously deserted by Austria, Saxony, + Bavaria, and Bernadotte, and to dispute the dreadful field of Leipsic. The + magnificent review commanded for that day by the Emperor was to be the + last of so many which had long drawn forth the admiration of Paris and of + foreign visitors. For the last time the Old Guard would execute their + scientific military manoeuvres with the pomp and precision which sometimes + amazed the Giant himself. Napoleon was nearly ready for his duel with + Europe. It was a sad sentiment which brought a brilliant and curious + throng to the Tuileries. Each mind seemed to foresee the future, perhaps + too in every mind another thought was dimly present, how that in the + future, when the heroic age of France should have taken the half-fabulous + color with which it is tinged for us to-day, men’s imaginations would more + than once seek to retrace the picture of the pageant which they were + assembled to behold. + </p> + <p> + “Do let us go more quickly, father; I can hear the drums,” the young girl + said, and in a half-teasing, half-coaxing manner she urged her companion + forward. + </p> + <p> + “The troops are marching into the Tuileries,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Or marching out of it—everybody is coming away,” she answered in + childish vexation, which drew a smile from her father. + </p> + <p> + “The review only begins at half-past twelve,” he said; he had fallen half + behind his impetuous daughter. + </p> + <p> + It might have been supposed that she meant to hasten their progress by a + movement of her right arm, for it swung like an oar blade through the + water. In her impatience she had crushed her handkerchief into a ball in + her tiny, well-gloved fingers. Now and then the old man smiled, but the + smiles were succeeded by an anxious look which crossed his withered face + and saddened it. In his love for the fair young girl by his side, he was + as fain to exalt the present moment as to dread the future. “She is happy + to-day; will her happiness last?” he seemed to ask himself, for the old + are somewhat prone to foresee their own sorrows in the future of the + young. + </p> + <p> + Father and daughter reached the peristyle under the tower where the + tricolor flag was still waving; but as they passed under the arch by which + people came and went between the Gardens of the Tuileries and the Place du + Carrousel, the sentries on guard called out sternly: + </p> + <p> + “No admittance this way.” + </p> + <p> + By standing on tiptoe the young girl contrived to catch a glimpse of a + crowd of well-dressed women, thronging either side of the old marble + arcade along which the Emperor was to pass. + </p> + <p> + “We were too late in starting, father; you can see that quite well.” A + little piteous pout revealed the immense importance which she attached to + the sight of this particular review. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Julie—let us go away. You dislike a crush.” + </p> + <p> + “Do let us stay, father. Even here I may catch a glimpse of the Emperor; + he might die during this campaign, and then I should never have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + Her father shuddered at the selfish speech. There were tears in the girl’s + voice; he looked at her, and thought that he saw tears beneath her lowered + eyelids; tears caused not so much by the disappointment as by one of the + troubles of early youth, a secret easily guessed by an old father. + Suddenly Julie’s face flushed, and she uttered an exclamation. Neither her + father nor the sentinels understood the meaning of the cry; but an officer + within the barrier, who sprang across the court towards the staircase, + heard it, and turned abruptly at the sound. He went to the arcade by the + Gardens of the Tuileries, and recognized the young lady who had been + hidden for a moment by the tall bearskin caps of the grenadiers. He set + aside in favor of the pair the order which he himself had given. Then, + taking no heed of the murmurings of the fashionable crowd seated under the + arcade, he gently drew the enraptured child towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I am no longer surprised at her vexation and enthusiasm, if <i>you</i> + are in waiting,” the old man said with a half-mocking, half-serious glance + at the officer. + </p> + <p> + “If you want a good position, M. le Duc,” the young man answered, “we must + not spend any time in talking. The Emperor does not like to be kept + waiting, and the Grand Marshal has sent me to announce our readiness.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he had taken Julie’s arm with a certain air of old + acquaintance, and drew her rapidly in the direction of the Place du + Carrousel. Julie was astonished at the sight. An immense crowd was penned + up in a narrow space, shut in between the gray walls of the palace and the + limits marked out by chains round the great sanded squares in the midst of + the courtyard of the Tuileries. The cordon of sentries posted to keep a + clear passage for the Emperor and his staff had great difficulty in + keeping back the eager humming swarm of human beings. + </p> + <p> + “Is it going to be a very fine sight?” Julie asked (she was radiant now). + </p> + <p> + “Pray take care!” cried her guide, and seizing Julie by the waist, he + lifted her up with as much vigor as rapidity and set her down beside a + pillar. + </p> + <p> + But for his prompt action, his gazing kinswoman would have come into + collision with the hindquarters of a white horse which Napoleon’s Mameluke + held by the bridle; the animal in its trappings of green velvet and gold + stood almost under the arcade, some ten paces behind the rest of the + horses in readiness for the Emperor’s staff. + </p> + <p> + The young officer placed the father and daughter in front of the crowd in + the first space to the right, and recommended them by a sign to the two + veteran grenadiers on either side. Then he went on his way into the + palace; a look of great joy and happiness had succeeded to his + horror-struck expression when the horse backed. Julie had given his hand a + mysterious pressure; had she meant to thank him for the little service he + had done her, or did she tell him, “After all, I shall really see you?” + She bent her head quite graciously in response to the respectful bow by + which the officer took leave of them before he vanished. + </p> + <p> + The old man stood a little behind his daughter. He looked grave. He seemed + to have left the two young people together for some purpose of his own, + and now he furtively watched the girl, trying to lull her into false + security by appearing to give his whole attention to the magnificent sight + in the Place du Carrousel. When Julie’s eyes turned to her father with the + expression of a schoolboy before his master, he answered her glance by a + gay, kindly smile, but his own keen eyes had followed the officer under + the arcade, and nothing of all that passed was lost upon him. + </p> + <p> + “What a grand sight!” said Julie in a low voice, as she pressed her + father’s hand; and indeed the pomp and picturesquesness of the spectacle + in the Place du Carrousel drew the same exclamation from thousands upon + thousands of spectators, all agape with wonder. Another array of + sightseers, as tightly packed as the ranks behind the old noble and his + daughter, filled the narrow strip of pavement by the railings which + crossed the Place du Carrousel from side to side in a line parallel with + the Palace of the Tuileries. The dense living mass, variegated by the + colors of the women’s dresses, traced out a bold line across the centre of + the Place du Carrousel, filling in the fourth side of a vast + parallelogram, surrounded on three sides by the Palace of the Tuileries + itself. Within the precincts thus railed off stood the regiments of the + Old Guard about to be passed in review, drawn up opposite the Palace in + imposing blue columns, ten ranks in depth. Without and beyond in the Place + du Carrousel stood several regiments likewise drawn up in parallel lines, + ready to march in through the arch in the centre; the Triumphal Arch, + where the bronze horses of St. Mark from Venice used to stand in those + days. At either end, by the Galeries du Louvre, the regimental bands were + stationed, masked by the Polish Lancers then on duty. + </p> + <p> + The greater part of the vast graveled space was empty as an arena, ready + for the evolutions of those silent masses disposed with the symmetry of + military art. The sunlight blazed back from ten thousand bayonets in thin + points of flame; the breeze ruffled the men’s helmet plumes till they + swayed like the crests of forest-trees before a gale. The mute glittering + ranks of veterans were full of bright contrasting colors, thanks to their + different uniforms, weapons, accoutrements, and aiguillettes; and the + whole great picture, that miniature battlefield before the combat, was + framed by the majestic towering walls of the Tuileries, which officers and + men seemed to rival in their immobility. Involuntarily the spectator made + the comparison between the walls of men and the walls of stone. The spring + sunlight, flooding white masonry reared but yesterday and buildings + centuries old, shone full likewise upon thousands of bronzed faces, each + one with its own tale of perils passed, each one gravely expectant of + perils to come. + </p> + <p> + The colonels of the regiments came and went alone before the ranks of + heroes; and behind the masses of troops, checkered with blue and silver + and gold and purple, the curious could discern the tricolor pennons on the + lances of some half-a-dozen indefatigable Polish cavalry, rushing about + like shepherds’ dogs in charge of a flock, caracoling up and down between + the troops and the crowd, to keep the gazers within their proper bounds. + But for this slight flutter of movement, the whole scene might have been + taking place in the courtyard of the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. The + very spring breeze, ruffling up the long fur on the grenadiers’ bearskins, + bore witness to the men’s immobility, as the smothered murmur of the crowd + emphasized their silence. Now and again the jingling of Chinese bells, or + a chance blow to a big drum, woke the reverberating echoes of the Imperial + Palace with a sound like the far-off rumblings of thunder. + </p> + <p> + An indescribable, unmistakable enthusiasm was manifest in the expectancy + of the multitude. France was about to take farewell of Napoleon on the eve + of a campaign of which the meanest citizen foresaw the perils. The + existence of the French Empire was at stake—to be, or not to be. The + whole citizen population seemed to be as much inspired with this thought + as that other armed population standing in serried and silent ranks in the + enclosed space, with the Eagles and the genius of Napoleon hovering above + them. + </p> + <p> + Those very soldiers were the hope of France, her last drop of blood; and + this accounted for not a little of the anxious interest of the scene. Most + of the gazers in the crowd had bidden farewell—perhaps farewell for + ever—to the men who made up the rank and file of the battalions; and + even those most hostile to the Emperor, in their hearts, put up fervent + prayers to heaven for the glory of France; and those most weary of the + struggle with the rest of Europe had left their hatreds behind as they + passed in under the Triumphal Arch. They too felt that in the hour of + danger Napoleon meant France herself. + </p> + <p> + The clock of the Tuileries struck the half-hour. In a moment the hum of + the crowd ceased. The silence was so deep that you might have heard a + child speak. The old noble and his daughter, wholly intent, seeming to + live only by their eyes, caught a distinct sound of spurs and clank of + swords echoing up under the sonorous peristyle. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly there appeared a short, somewhat stout figure in a green + uniform, white trousers, and riding boots; a man wearing on his head a + cocked hat well-nigh as magically potent as its wearer; the broad red + ribbon of the Legion of Honor rose and fell on his breast, and a short + sword hung at his side. At one and the same moment the man was seen by all + eyes in all parts of the square. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the drums beat a salute, both bands struck up a martial + refrain, caught and repeated like a fugue by every instrument from the + thinnest flutes to the largest drum. The clangor of that call to arms + thrilled through every soul. The colors dropped, and the men presented + arms, one unanimous rhythmical movement shaking every bayonet from the + foremost front near the Palace to the last rank in the Place du Carrousel. + The words of command sped from line to line like echoes. The whole + enthusiastic multitude sent up a shout of “Long live the Emperor!” + </p> + <p> + Everything shook, quivered, and thrilled at last. Napoleon had mounted his + horse. It was his movement that had put life into those silent masses of + men; the dumb instruments had found a voice at his coming, the Eagles and + the colors had obeyed the same impulse which had brought emotion into all + faces. + </p> + <p> + The very walls of the high galleries of the old palace seemed to cry + aloud, “Long live the Emperor!” + </p> + <p> + There was something preternatural about it—it was magic at work, a + counterfeit presentment of the power of God; or rather it was a fugitive + image of a reign itself so fugitive. + </p> + <p> + And <i>he</i> the centre of such love, such enthusiasm and devotion, and + so many prayers, he for whom the sun had driven the clouds from the sky, + was sitting there on his horse, three paces in front of his Golden + Squadron, with the grand Marshal on his left, and the Marshal-in-waiting + on his right. Amid all the outburst of enthusiasm at his presence not a + feature of his face appeared to alter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes. At Wagram, in the thick of the firing, on the field of Borodino, + among the dead, always as cool as a cucumber <i>he</i> is!” said the + grenadier, in answer to the questions with which the young girl plied him. + For a moment Julie was absorbed in the contemplation of that face, so + quiet in the security of conscious power. The Emperor noticed Mlle. de + Chatillonest, and leaned to make some brief remark to Duroc, which drew a + smile from the Grand Marshal. Then the review began. + </p> + <p> + If hitherto the young lady’s attention had been divided between Napoleon’s + impassive face and the blue, red, and green ranks of troops, from this + time forth she was wholly intent upon a young officer moving among the + lines as they performed their swift symmetrical evolutions. She watched + him gallop with tireless activity to and from the group where the plainly + dressed Napoleon shone conspicuous. The officer rode a splendid black + horse. His handsome sky-blue uniform marked him out amid the variegated + multitude as one of the Emperor’s orderly staff-officers. His gold lace + glittered in the sunshine which lighted up the aigrette on his tall, + narrow shako, so that the gazer might have compared him to a + will-o’-the-wisp, or to a visible spirit emanating from the Emperor to + infuse movement into those battalions whose swaying bayonets flashed into + flames; for, at a mere glance from his eyes, they broke and gathered + again, surging to and fro like the waves in a bay, or again swept before + him like the long ridges of high-crested wave which the vexed Ocean + directs against the shore. + </p> + <p> + When the manoeuvres were over the officer galloped back at full speed, + pulled up his horse, and awaited orders. He was not ten paces from Julie + as he stood before the Emperor, much as General Rapp stands in Gerard’s <i>Battle + of Austerlitz</i>. The young girl could behold her lover in all his + soldierly splendor. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Victor d’Aiglemont, barely thirty years of age, was tall, slender, + and well made. His well-proportioned figure never showed to better + advantage than now as he exerted his strength to hold in the restive + animal, whose back seemed to curve gracefully to the rider’s weight. His + brown masculine face possessed the indefinable charm of perfectly regular + features combined with youth. The fiery eyes under the broad forehead, + shaded by thick eyebrows and long lashes, looked like white ovals bordered + by an outline of black. His nose had the delicate curve of an eagle’s + beak; the sinuous lines of the inevitable black moustache enhanced the + crimson of the lips. The brown and tawny shades which overspread the wide + high-colored cheeks told a tale of unusual vigor, and his whole face bore + the impress of dashing courage. He was the very model which French artists + seek to-day for the typical hero of Imperial France. The horse which he + rode was covered with sweat, the animal’s quivering head denoted the last + degree of restiveness; his hind hoofs were set down wide apart and exactly + in a line, he shook his long thick tail to the wind; in his fidelity to + his master he seemed to be a visible presentment of that master’s devotion + to the Emperor. + </p> + <p> + Julie saw her lover watching intently for the Emperor’s glances, and felt + a momentary pang of jealousy, for as yet he had not given her a look. + Suddenly at a word from his sovereign Victor gripped his horse’s flanks + and set out at a gallop, but the animal took fright at a shadow cast by a + post, shied, backed, and reared up so suddenly that his rider was all but + thrown off. Julie cried out, her face grew white, people looked at her + curiously, but she saw no one, her eyes were fixed upon the too mettlesome + beast. The officer gave the horse a sharp admonitory cut with the whip, + and galloped off with Napoleon’s order. + </p> + <p> + Julie was so absorbed, so dizzy with sights and sounds, that unconsciously + she clung to her father’s arm so tightly that he could read her thoughts + by the varying pressure of her fingers. When Victor was all but flung out + of the saddle, she clutched her father with a convulsive grip as if she + herself were in danger of falling, and the old man looked at his + daughter’s tell-tale face with dark and painful anxiety. Pity, jealousy, + something even of regret stole across every drawn and wrinkled line of + mouth and brow. When he saw the unwonted light in Julie’s eyes, when that + cry broke from her, when the convulsive grasp of her fingers drew away the + veil and put him in possession of her secret, then with that revelation of + her love there came surely some swift revelation of the future. Mournful + forebodings could be read in his own face. + </p> + <p> + Julie’s soul seemed at that moment to have passed into the officer’s + being. A torturing thought more cruel than any previous dread contracted + the old man’s painworn features, as he saw the glance of understanding + that passed between the soldier and Julie. The girl’s eyes were wet, her + cheeks glowed with unwonted color. Her father turned abruptly and led her + away into the Garden of the Tuileries. + </p> + <p> + “Why, father,” she cried, “there are still the regiments in the Place du + Carrousel to be passed in review.” + </p> + <p> + “No, child, all the troops are marching out.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are mistaken, father; M. d’Aiglemont surely told them to + advance——” + </p> + <p> + “But I feel ill, my child, and I do not care to stay.” + </p> + <p> + Julie could readily believe the words when she glanced at his face; he + looked quite worn out by his fatherly anxieties. + </p> + <p> + “Are you feeling very ill?” she asked indifferently, her mind was so full + of other thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Every day is a reprieve for me, is it not?” returned her father. + </p> + <p> + “Now do you mean to make me miserable again by talking about your death? I + was in such spirits! Do pray get rid of those horrid gloomy ideas of + yours.” + </p> + <p> + The father heaved a sigh. “Ah! spoiled child,” he cried, “the best hearts + are sometimes very cruel. We devote our whole lives to you, you are our + one thought, we plan for your welfare, sacrifice our tastes to your whims, + idolize you, give the very blood in our veins for you, and all this is + nothing, is it? Alas! yes, you take it all as a matter of course. If we + would always have your smiles and your disdainful love, we should need the + power of God in heaven. Then comes another, a lover, a husband, and steals + away your heart.” + </p> + <p> + Julie looked in amazement at her father; he walked slowly along, and there + was no light in the eyes which he turned upon her. + </p> + <p> + “You hide yourself even from us,” he continued, “but, perhaps, also you + hide yourself from yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that, father?” + </p> + <p> + “I think that you have secrets from me, Julie.—You love,” he went on + quickly, as he saw the color rise to her face. “Oh! I hoped that you would + stay with your old father until he died. I hoped to keep you with me, + still radiant and happy, to admire you as you were but so lately. So long + as I knew nothing of your future I could believe in a happy lot for you; + but now I cannot possibly take away with me a hope of happiness for your + life, for you love the colonel even more than the cousin. I can no longer + doubt it.” + </p> + <p> + “And why should I be forbidden to love him?” asked Julie, with lively + curiosity in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my Julie, you would not understand me,” sighed the father. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, all the same,” said Julie, with an involuntary petulant gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, child, listen to me. Girls are apt to imagine noble and + enchanting and totally imaginary figures in their own minds; they have + fanciful extravagant ideas about men, and sentiment, and life; and then + they innocently endow somebody or other with all the perfections of their + day-dreams, and put their trust in him. They fall in love with this + imaginary creature in the man of their choice; and then, when it is too + late to escape from their fate, behold their first idol, the illusion made + fair with their fancies, turns to an odious skeleton. Julie, I would + rather have you fall in love with an old man than with the Colonel. Ah! if + you could but see things from the standpoint of ten years hence, you would + admit that my old experience was right. I know what Victor is, that gaiety + of his is simply animal spirits—the gaiety of the barracks. He has + no ability, and he is a spendthrift. He is one of those men whom Heaven + created to eat and digest four meals a day, to sleep, to fall in love with + the first woman that comes to hand, and to fight. He does not understand + life. His kind heart, for he has a kind heart, will perhaps lead him to + give his purse to a sufferer or to a comrade; <i>but</i> he is careless, + he has not the delicacy of heart which makes us slaves to a woman’s + happiness, he is ignorant, he is selfish. There are plenty of <i>buts</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “But, father, he must surely be clever, he must have ability, or he would + not be a colonel—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, Victor will be a colonel all his life.—I have seen no one + who appears to me to be worthy of you,” the old father added, with a kind + of enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + He paused an instant, looked at his daughter, and added, “Why, my poor + Julie, you are still too young, too fragile, too delicate for the cares + and rubs of married life. D’Aiglemont’s relations have spoiled him, just + as your mother and I have spoiled you. What hope is there that you two + could agree, with two imperious wills diametrically opposed to each other? + You will be either the tyrant or the victim, and either alternative means, + for a wife, an equal sum of misfortune. But you are modest and + sweet-natured, you would yield from the first. In short,” he added, in a + quivering voice, “there is a grace of feeling in you which would never be + valued, and then——” he broke off, for the tears overcame him. + </p> + <p> + “Victor will give you pain through all the girlish qualities of your young + nature,” he went on, after a pause. “I know what soldiers are, my Julie; I + have been in the army. In a man of that kind, love very seldom gets the + better of old habits, due partly to the miseries amid which soldiers live, + partly to the risks they run in a life of adventure.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean to cross my inclinations, do you, father?” asked Julie, + half in earnest, half in jest. “Am I to marry to please you and not to + please myself?” + </p> + <p> + “To please me!” cried her father, with a start of surprise. “To please <i>me</i>, + child? when you will not hear the voice that upbraids you so tenderly very + much longer! But I have always heard children impute personal motives for + the sacrifices that their parents make for them. Marry Victor, my Julie! + Some day you will bitterly deplore his ineptitude, his thriftless ways, + his selfishness, his lack of delicacy, his inability to understand love, + and countless troubles arising through him. Then, remember, that here + under these trees your old father’s prophetic voice sounded in your ears + in vain.” + </p> + <p> + He said no more; he had detected a rebellious shake of the head on his + daughter’s part. Both made several paces towards the carriage which was + waiting for them at the grating. During that interval of silence, the + young girl stole a glance at her father’s face, and little by little her + sullen brow cleared. The intense pain visible on his bowed forehead made a + lively impression upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” she began in gentle tremulous tones, “I promise to say no more + about Victor until you have overcome your prejudices against him.” + </p> + <p> + The old man looked at her in amazement. Two tears which filled his eyes + overflowed down his withered cheeks. He could not take Julie in his arms + in that crowded place; but he pressed her hand tenderly. A few minutes + later when they had taken their places in the cabriolet, all the anxious + thought which had gathered about his brow had completely disappeared. + Julie’s pensive attitude gave him far less concern than the innocent joy + which had betrayed her secret during the review. + </p> + <p> + Nearly a year had passed since the Emperor’s last review. In early March + 1814 a calèche was rolling along the highroad from Amboise to Tours. As + the carriage came out from beneath the green-roofed aisle of walnut trees + by the post-house of la Frilliere, the horses dashed forward with such + speed that in a moment they gained the bridge built across the Cise at the + point of its confluence with the Loire. There, however, they come to a + sudden stand. One of the traces had given way in consequence of the + furious pace at which the post-boy, obedient to his orders, had urged on + four horses, the most vigorous of their breed. Chance, therefore, gave the + two recently awakened occupants of the carriage an opportunity of seeing + one of the most lovely landscapes along the enchanting banks of the Loire, + and that at their full leisure. + </p> + <p> + At a glance the travelers could see to the right the whole winding course + of the Cise meandering like a silver snake among the meadows, where the + grass had taken the deep, bright green of early spring. To the left lay + the Loire in all its glory. A chill morning breeze, ruffling the surface + of the stately river, had fretted the broad sheets of water far and wide + into a network of ripples, which caught the gleams of the sun, so that the + green islets here and there in its course shone like gems set in a gold + necklace. On the opposite bank the fair rich meadows of Touraine stretched + away as far as the eye could see; the low hills of the Cher, the only + limits to the view, lay on the far horizon, a luminous line against the + clear blue sky. Tours itself, framed by the trees on the islands in a + setting of spring leaves, seemed to rise like Venice out of the waters, + and her old cathedral towers soaring in air were blended with the pale + fantastic cloud shapes in the sky. + </p> + <p> + Over the side of the bridge, where the carriage had come to a stand, the + traveler looks along a line of cliffs stretching as far as Tours. Nature + in some freakish mood must have raised these barriers of rock, undermined + incessantly by the rippling Loire at their feet, for a perpetual wonder + for spectators. The village of Vouvray nestles, as it were, among the + clefts and crannies of the crags, which begin to describe a bend at the + junction of the Loire and Cise. A whole population of vine-dressers lives, + in fact, in appalling insecurity in holes in their jagged sides for the + whole way between Vouvray and Tours. In some places there are three tiers + of dwellings hollowed out, one above the other, in the rock, each row + communicating with the next by dizzy staircases cut likewise in the face + of the cliff. A little girl in a short red petticoat runs out into her + garden on the roof of another dwelling; you can watch a wreath of + hearth-smoke curling up among the shoots and trails of the vines. Men are + at work in their almost perpendicular patches of ground, an old woman sits + tranquilly spinning under a blossoming almond tree on a crumbling mass of + rock, and smiles down on the dismay of the travelers far below her feet. + The cracks in the ground trouble her as little as the precarious state of + the old wall, a pendant mass of loose stones, only kept in position by the + crooked stems of its ivy mantle. The sound of coopers’ mallets rings + through the skyey caves; for here, where Nature stints human industry of + soil, the soil is everywhere tilled, and everywhere fertile. + </p> + <p> + No view along the whole course of the Loire can compare with the rich + landscape of Touraine, here outspread beneath the traveler’s eyes. The + triple picture, thus barely sketched in outline, is one of those scenes + which the imagination engraves for ever upon the memory; let a poet fall + under its charm, and he shall be haunted by visions which shall reproduce + its romantic loveliness out of the vague substance of dreams. + </p> + <p> + As the carriage stopped on the bridge over the Cise, white sails came out + here and there from among the islands in the Loire to add new grace to the + perfect view. The subtle scent of the willows by the water’s edge was + mingled with the damp odor of the breeze from the river. The monotonous + chant of a goat-herd added a plaintive note to the sound of birds’ songs + in a chorus which never ends; the cries of the boatmen brought tidings of + distant busy life. Here was Touraine in all its glory, and the very height + of the splendor of spring. Here was the one peaceful district in France in + those troublous days; for it was so unlikely that a foreign army should + trouble its quiet that Touraine might be said to defy invasion. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the calèche stopped, a head covered with a foraging cap was put + out of the window, and soon afterwards an impatient military man flung + open the carriage door and sprang down into the road to pick a quarrel + with the postilion, but the skill with which the Tourangeau was repairing + the trace restored Colonel d’Aiglemont’s equanimity. He went back to the + carriage, stretched himself to relieve his benumbed muscles, yawned, + looked about him, and finally laid a hand on the arm of a young woman + warmly wrapped up in a furred pelisse. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Julie,” he said hoarsely, “just wake up and take a look at this + country. It is magnificent.” + </p> + <p> + Julie put her head out of the window. She wore a traveling cap of sable + fur. Nothing could be seen of her but her face, for the whole of her + person was completely concealed by the folds of her fur pelisse. The young + girl who tripped to the review at the Tuileries with light footsteps and + joy and gladness in her heart was scarcely recognizable in Julie + d’Aiglemont. Her face, delicate as ever, had lost the rose-color which + once gave it so rich a glow. A few straggling locks of black hair, + straightened out by the damp night air, enhanced its dead whiteness, and + all its life and sparkle seemed to be torpid. Yet her eyes glittered with + preternatural brightness in spite of the violet shadows under the lashes + upon her wan cheeks. + </p> + <p> + She looked out with indifferent eyes over the fields towards the Cher, at + the islands in the river, at the line of the crags of Vouvray stretching + along the Loire towards Tours; then she sank back as soon as possible into + her seat in the calèche. She did not care to give a glance to the + enchanting valley of the Cise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is wonderful,” she said, and out in the open air her voice + sounded weak and faint to the last degree. Evidently she had had her way + with her father, to her misfortune. + </p> + <p> + “Would you not like to live here, Julie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; here or anywhere,” she answered listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel ill?” asked Colonel d’Aiglemont. + </p> + <p> + “No, not at all,” she answered with momentary energy; and, smiling at her + husband, she added, “I should like to go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there came a sound of a horse galloping towards them. Victor + d’Aiglemont dropped his wife’s hand and turned to watch the bend in the + road. No sooner had he taken his eyes from Julie’s pale face than all the + assumed gaiety died out of it; it was as if a light had been extinguished. + She felt no wish to look at the landscape, no curiosity to see the + horseman who was galloping towards them at such a furious pace, and, + ensconcing herself in her corner, stared out before her at the + hindquarters of the post-horses, looking as blank as any Breton peasant + listening to his <i>recteur’s</i> sermon. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a young man riding a valuable horse came out from behind the + clump of poplars and flowering briar-rose. + </p> + <p> + “It is an Englishman,” remarked the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless you, yes, General,” said the post-boy; “he belongs to the race + of fellows who have a mind to gobble up France, they say.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger was one of the foreigners traveling in France at the time + when Napoleon detained all British subjects within the limits of the + Empire, by way of reprisals for the violation of the Treaty of Amiens, an + outrage of international law perpetrated by the Court of St. James. These + prisoners, compelled to submit to the Emperor’s pleasure, were not all + suffered to remain in the houses where they were arrested, nor yet in the + places of residence which at first they were permitted to choose. Most of + the English colony in Touraine had been transplanted thither from + different places where their presence was supposed to be inimical to the + interests of the Continental Policy. + </p> + <p> + The young man, who was taking the tedium of the early morning hours on + horseback, was one of these victims of bureaucratic tyranny. Two years + previously, a sudden order from the Foreign Office had dragged him from + Montpellier, whither he had gone on account of consumptive tendencies. He + glanced at the Comte d’Aiglemont, saw that he was a military man, and + deliberately looked away, turning his head somewhat abruptly towards the + meadows by the Cise. + </p> + <p> + “The English are all as insolent as if the globe belonged to them,” + muttered the Colonel. “Luckily, Soult will give them a thrashing + directly.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner gave a glance to the calèche as he rode by. Brief though that + glance was, he had yet time to notice the sad expression which lent an + indefinable charm to the Countess’ pensive face. Many men are deeply moved + by the mere semblance of suffering in a woman; they take the look of pain + for a sign of constancy or of love. Julie herself was so much absorbed in + the contemplation of the opposite cushion that she saw neither the horse + nor the rider. The damaged trace meanwhile had been quickly and strongly + repaired; the Count stepped into his place again; and the post-boy, doing + his best to make up for lost time, drove the carriage rapidly along the + embankment. On they drove under the overhanging cliffs, with their + picturesque vine-dressers’ huts and stores of wine maturing in their dark + sides, till in the distance uprose the spire of the famous Abbey of + Marmoutiers, the retreat of St. Martin. + </p> + <p> + “What can that diaphanous milord want with us?” exclaimed the Colonel, + turning to assure himself that the horseman who had followed them from the + bridge was the young Englishman. + </p> + <p> + After all, the stranger committed no breach of good manners by riding + along on the footway, and Colonel d’Aiglemont was fain to lie back in his + corner after sending a scowl in the Englishman’s direction. But in spite + of his hostile instincts, he could not help noticing the beauty of the + animal and the graceful horsemanship of the rider. The young man’s face + was of that pale, fair-complexioned, insular type, which is almost girlish + in the softness and delicacy of its color and texture. He was tall, thin, + and fair-haired, dressed with the extreme and elaborate neatness + characteristic of a man of fashion in prudish England. Any one might have + thought that bashfulness rather than pleasure at the sight of the Countess + had called up that flush into his face. Once only Julie raised her eyes + and looked at the stranger, and then only because she was in a manner + compelled to do so, for her husband called upon her to admire the action + of the thoroughbred. It so happened that their glances clashed; and the + shy Englishman, instead of riding abreast of the carriage, fell behind on + this, and followed them at a distance of a few paces. + </p> + <p> + Yet the Countess had scarcely given him a glance; she saw none of the + various perfections, human and equine, commended to her notice, and fell + back again in the carriage, with a slight movement of the eyelids intended + to express her acquiescence in her husband’s views. The Colonel fell + asleep again, and both husband and wife reached Tours without another + word. Not one of those enchanting views of everchanging landscape through + which they sped had drawn so much as a glance from Julie’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont looked now and again at her sleeping husband. While she + looked, a sudden jolt shook something down upon her knees. It was her + father’s portrait, a miniature which she wore suspended about her neck by + a black cord. At the sight of it, the tears, till then kept back, + overflowed her eyes, but no one, save perhaps the Englishman, saw them + glitter there for a brief moment before they dried upon her pale cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Colonel d’Aiglemont was on his way to the South. Marshal Soult was + repelling an English invasion of Bearn; and d’Aiglemont, the bearer of the + Emperor’s orders to the Marshal, seized the opportunity of taking his wife + as far as Tours to leave her with an elderly relative of his own, far away + from the dangers threatening Paris. + </p> + <p> + Very shortly the carriage rolled over the paved road of Tours, over the + bridge, along the Grande-Rue, and stopped at last before the old mansion + of the <i>ci-devant</i> Marquise de Listomere-Landon. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise de Listomere-Landon, with her white hair, pale face, and + shrewd smile, was one of those fine old ladies who still seem to wear the + paniers of the eighteenth century, and affects caps of an extinct mode. + They are nearly always caressing in their manners, as if the heyday of + love still lingered on for these septuagenarian portraits of the age of + Louis Quinze, with the faint perfume of <i>poudre a la maréchale</i> + always clinging about them. Bigoted rather than pious, and less of bigots + than they seem, women who can tell a story well and talk still better, + their laughter comes more readily for an old memory than for a new jest—the + present intrudes upon them. + </p> + <p> + When an old waiting-woman announced to the Marquise de Listomere-Landon + (to give her the title which she was soon to resume) the arrival of a + nephew whom she had not seen since the outbreak of the war with Spain, the + old lady took off her spectacles with alacrity, shut the <i>Galerie de + l’ancienne Cour</i> (her favorite work), and recovered something like + youthful activity, hastening out upon the flight of steps to greet the + young couple there. + </p> + <p> + Aunt and niece exchanged a rapid glance of survey. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, dear aunt,” cried the Colonel, giving the old lady a hasty + embrace. “I am bringing a young lady to put under your wing. I have come + to put my treasure in your keeping. My Julie is neither jealous nor a + coquette, she is as good as an angel. I hope that she will not be spoiled + here,” he added, suddenly interrupting himself. + </p> + <p> + “Scapegrace!” returned the Marquise, with a satirical glance at her + nephew. + </p> + <p> + She did not wait for her niece to approach her, but with a certain kindly + graciousness went forward herself to kiss Julie, who stood there + thoughtfully, to all appearance more embarrassed than curious concerning + her new relation. + </p> + <p> + “So we are to make each other’s acquaintance, are we, my love?” the + Marquise continued. “Do not be too much alarmed of me. I always try not to + be an old woman with young people.” + </p> + <p> + On the way to the drawing-room, the Marquise ordered breakfast for her + guests in provincial fashion; but the Count checked his aunt’s flow of + words by saying soberly that he could only remain in the house while the + horses were changing. On this the three hurried into the drawing-room. The + Colonel had barely time to tell the story of the political and military + events which had compelled him to ask his aunt for a shelter for his young + wife. While he talked on without interruption, the older lady looked from + her nephew to her niece, and took the sadness in Julie’s white face for + grief at the enforced separation. “Eh! eh!” her looks seemed to say, + “these young things are in love with each other.” + </p> + <p> + The crack of the postilion’s whip sounded outside in the silent old + grass-grown courtyard. Victor embraced his aunt once more, and rushed out. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, dear,” he said, kissing his wife, who had followed him down to + the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Victor, let me come still further with you,” she pleaded coaxingly. + “I do not want to leave you——” + </p> + <p> + “Can you seriously mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Julie, “since you wish it.” The carriage disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “So you are very fond of my poor Victor?” said the Marquise, interrogating + her niece with one of those sagacious glances which dowagers give younger + women. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, madame!” said Julie, “must one not love a man well indeed to marry + him?” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken with an artless accent which revealed either a pure + heart or inscrutable depths. How could a woman, who had been the friend of + Duclos and the Marechal de Richelieu, refrain from trying to read the + riddle of this marriage? Aunt and niece were standing on the steps, gazing + after the fast vanishing calèche. The look in the young Countess’ eyes did + not mean love as the Marquise understood it. The good lady was a + Provencale, and her passions had been lively. + </p> + <p> + “So you were captivated by my good-for-nothing of a nephew?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily Julie shuddered, something in the experienced coquette’s + look and tone seemed to say that Mme. de Listomere-Landon’s knowledge of + her husband’s character went perhaps deeper than his wife’s. Mme. + d’Aiglemont, in dismay, took refuge in this transparent dissimulation, + ready to her hand, the first resource of an artless unhappiness. Mme. de + Listomere appeared to be satisfied with Julie’s answers; but in her secret + heart she rejoiced to think that here was a love affair on hand to enliven + her solitude, for that her niece had some amusing flirtation on foot she + was fully convinced. + </p> + <p> + In the great drawing-room, hung with tapestry framed in strips of gilding, + young Mme. d’Aiglemont sat before a blazing fire, behind a Chinese screen + placed to shut out the cold draughts from the window, and her heavy mood + scarcely lightened. Among the old eighteenth-century furniture, under the + old paneled ceiling, it was not very easy to be gay. Yet the young + Parisienne took a sort of pleasure in this entrance upon a life of + complete solitude and in the solemn silence of the old provincial house. + She exchanged a few words with the aunt, a stranger, to whom she had + written a bride’s letter on her marriage, and then sat as silent as if she + had been listening to an opera. Not until two hours had been spent in an + atmosphere of quiet befitting la Trappe, did she suddenly awaken to a + sense of uncourteous behavior, and bethink herself of the short answers + which she had given her aunt. Mme. de Listomere, with the gracious tact + characteristic of a bygone age, had respected her niece’s mood. When Mme. + d’Aiglemont became conscious of her shortcomings, the dowager sat + knitting, though as a matter of fact she had several times left the room + to superintend preparations in the Green Chamber, whither the Countess’ + luggage had been transported; now, however, she had returned to her great + armchair, and stole a glance from time to time at this young relative. + Julie felt ashamed of giving way to irresistible broodings, and tried to + earn her pardon by laughing at herself. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, <i>we</i> know the sorrows of widowhood,” returned her + aunt. But only the eyes of forty years could have distinguished the irony + hovering about the old lady’s mouth. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the Countess improved. She talked. Mme. de Listomere no + longer despaired of fathoming the new-made wife, whom yesterday she had + set down as a dull, unsociable creature, and discoursed on the delights of + the country, of dances, of houses where they could visit. All that day the + Marquise’s questions were so many snares; it was the old habit of the old + Court, she could not help setting traps to discover her niece’s character. + For several days Julie, plied with temptations, steadfastly declined to + seek amusement abroad; and much as the old lady’s pride longed to exhibit + her pretty niece, she was fain to renounce all hope of taking her into + society, for the young Countess was still in morning for her father, and + found in her loss and her mourning dress a pretext for her sadness and + desire for seclusion. + </p> + <p> + By the end of the week the dowager admired Julie’s angelic sweetness of + disposition, her diffident charm, her indulgent temper, and thenceforward + began to take a prodigious interest in the mysterious sadness gnawing at + this young heart. The Countess was one of those women who seem born to be + loved and to bring happiness with them. Mme. de Listomere found her + niece’s society grown so sweet and precious, that she doted upon Julie, + and could no longer think of parting with her. A month sufficed to + establish an eternal friendship between the two ladies. The dowager + noticed, not without surprise, the changes that took place in Mme. + d’Aiglemont; gradually her bright color died away, and her face became + dead white. Yet, Julie’s spirits rose as the bloom faded from her cheeks. + Sometimes the dowager’s sallies provoked outbursts of merriment or peals + of laughter, promptly repressed, however, by some clamorous thought. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Listomere had guessed by this time that it was neither Victor’s + absence nor a father’s death which threw a shadow over her niece’s life; + but her mind was so full of dark suspicions, that she found it difficult + to lay a finger upon the real cause of the mischief. Possibly truth is + only discoverable by chance. A day came, however, at length when Julie + flashed out before her aunt’s astonished eyes into a complete + forgetfulness of her marriage; she recovered the wild spirits of careless + girlhood. Mme. de Listomere then and there made up her mind to fathom the + depths of this soul, for its exceeding simplicity was as inscrutable as + dissimulation. + </p> + <p> + Night was falling. The two ladies were sitting by the window which looked + out upon the street, and Julie was looking thoughtful again, when some one + went by on horseback. + </p> + <p> + “There goes one of your victims,” said the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont looked up; dismay and surprise blended in her face. + </p> + <p> + “He is a young Englishman, the Honorable Arthur Ormand, Lord Grenville’s + eldest son. His history is interesting. His physician sent him to + Montpellier in 1802; it was hoped that in that climate he might recover + from the lung complaint which was gaining ground. He was detained, like + all his fellow-countrymen, by Bonaparte when war broke out. That monster + cannot live without fighting. The young Englishman, by way of amusing + himself, took to studying his own complaint, which was believed to be + incurable. By degrees he acquired a liking for anatomy and physic, and + took quite a craze for that kind of thing, a most extraordinary taste in a + man of quality, though the Regent certainly amused himself with chemistry! + In short, Monsieur Arthur made astonishing progress in his studies; his + health did the same under the faculty of Montpellier; he consoled his + captivity, and at the same time his cure was thoroughly completed. They + say that he spent two whole years in a cowshed, living on cresses and the + milk of a cow brought from Switzerland, breathing as seldom as he could, + and never speaking a word. Since he come to Tours he has lived quite + alone; he is as proud as a peacock; but you have certainly made a conquest + of him, for probably it is not on my account that he has ridden under the + window twice every day since you have been here.—He has certainly + fallen in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + That last phrase roused the Countess like magic. Her involuntary start and + smile took the Marquise by surprise. So far from showing a sign of the + instinctive satisfaction felt by the most strait-laced of women when she + learns that she has destroyed the peace of mind of some male victim, there + was a hard, haggard expression in Julie’s face—a look of repulsion + amounting almost to loathing. + </p> + <p> + A woman who loves will put the whole world under the ban of Love’s empire + for the sake of the one whom she loves; but such a woman can laugh and + jest; and Julie at that moment looked as if the memory of some recently + escaped peril was too sharp and fresh not to bring with it a quick + sensation of pain. Her aunt, by this time convinced that Julie did not + love her nephew, was stupefied by the discovery that she loved nobody + else. She shuddered lest a further discovery should show her Julie’s heart + disenchanted, lest the experience of a day, or perhaps of a night, should + have revealed to a young wife the full extent of Victor’s emptiness. + </p> + <p> + “If she has found him out, there is an end of it,” thought the dowager. + “My nephew will soon be made to feel the inconveniences of wedded life.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise now proposed to convert Julie to the monarchical doctrines of + the times of Louis Quinze; but a few hours later she discovered, or, more + properly speaking, guessed, the not uncommon state of affairs, and the + real cause of her niece’s low spirits. + </p> + <p> + Julie turned thoughtful on a sudden, and went to her room earlier than + usual. When her maid left her for the night, she still sat by the fire in + the yellow velvet depths of a great chair, an old-world piece of furniture + as well suited for sorrow as for happy people. Tears flowed, followed by + sighs and meditation. After a while she drew a little table to her, sought + writing materials, and began to write. The hours went by swiftly. Julie’s + confidences made to the sheet of paper seemed to cost her dear; every + sentence set her dreaming, and at last she suddenly burst into tears. The + clocks were striking two. Her head, grown heavy as a dying woman’s, was + bowed over her breast. When she raised it, her aunt appeared before her as + suddenly as if she had stepped out of the background of tapestry upon the + walls. + </p> + <p> + “What can be the matter with you, child?” asked the Marquise. “Why are you + sitting up so late? And why, in the first place, are you crying alone, at + your age?” + </p> + <p> + Without further ceremony she sat down beside her niece, her eyes the while + devouring the unfinished letter. + </p> + <p> + “Were you writing to your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I know where he is?” returned the Countess. + </p> + <p> + Her aunt thereupon took up the sheet and proceeded to read it. She had + brought her spectacles; the deed was premeditated. The innocent writer of + the letter allowed her to take it without the slightest remark. It was + neither lack of dignity nor consciousness of secret guilt which left her + thus without energy. Her aunt had come in upon her at a crisis. She was + helpless; right or wrong, reticence and confidence, like all things else, + were matters of indifference. Like some young maid who had heaped scorn + upon her lover, and feels so lonely and sad when evening comes, that she + longs for him to come back or for a heart to which she can pour out her + sorrow, Julie allowed her aunt to violate the seal which honor places upon + an open letter, and sat musing while the Marquise read on:— + </p> +<pre> + “MY DEAR LOUISA,—Why do you ask so often for the fulfilment of as + rash a promise as two young and inexperienced girls could make? + You say that you often ask yourself why I have given no answer to + your questions for these six months. If my silence told you + nothing, perhaps you will understand the reasons for it to-day, as + you read the secrets which I am about to betray. I should have + buried them for ever in the depths of my heart if you had not + announced your own approaching marriage. You are about to be + married, Louisa. The thought makes me shiver. Poor little one! + marry, yes, in a few months’ time one of the keenest pangs of + regret will be the recollection of a self which used to be, of the + two young girls who sat one evening under one of the tallest + oak-trees on the hillside at Ecouen, and looked along the fair + valley at our feet in the light of the sunset, which caught us in + its glow. We sat on a slab of rock in ecstasy, which sobered down + into melancholy of the gentlest. You were the first to discover that + the far-off sun spoke to us of the future. How inquisitive and how + silly we were! Do you remember all the absurd things we said and + did? We embraced each other; ‘like lovers,’ said we. We solemnly + promised that the first bride should faithfully reveal to the + other the mysteries of marriage, the joys which our childish minds + imagined to be so delicious. That evening will complete your + despair, Louisa. In those days you were young and beautiful and + careless, if not radiantly happy; a few days of marriage, and you + will be, what I am already—ugly, wretched, and old. Need I tell + you how proud I was and how vain and glad to be married to Colonel + Victor d’Aiglemont? And besides, how could I tell you now? for I + cannot remember that old self. A few moments turned my girlhood to + a dream. All through the memorable day which consecrated a chain, + the extent of which was hidden from me, my behavior was not free + from reproach. Once and again my father tried to repress my + spirits; the joy which I showed so plainly was thought unbefitting + the occasion, my talk scarcely innocent, simply because I was so + innocent. I played endless child’s tricks with my bridal veil, my + wreath, my gown. Left alone that night in the room whither I had + been conducted in state, I planned a piece of mischief to tease + Victor. While I awaited his coming, my heart beat wildly, as it + used to do when I was a child stealing into the drawing-room on + the last day of the old year to catch a glimpse of the New Year’s + gifts piled up there in heaps. When my husband came in and looked + for me, my smothered laughter ringing out from beneath the lace in + which I had shrouded myself, was the last outburst of the + delicious merriment which brightened our games in childhood...” + </pre> + <p> + When the dowager had finished reading the letter, and after such a + beginning the rest must have been sad indeed, she slowly laid her + spectacles on the table, put the letter down beside them, and looked + fixedly at her niece. Age had not dimmed the fire in those green eyes as + yet. + </p> + <p> + “My little girl,” she said, “a married woman cannot write such a letter as + this to a young unmarried woman; it is scarcely proper—” + </p> + <p> + “So I was thinking,” Julie broke in upon her aunt. “I felt ashamed of + myself while you were reading it.” + </p> + <p> + “If a dish at table is not to our taste, there is no occasion to disgust + others with it, child,” the old lady continued benignly, “especially when + marriage has seemed to us all, from Eve downwards, so excellent an + institution... You have no mother?” + </p> + <p> + The Countess trembled, then she raised her face meekly, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I have missed my mother many times already during the past year; but I + have myself to blame, I would not listen to my father. He was opposed to + my marriage; he disapproved of Victor as a son-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at her aunt. The old face was lighted up with a kindly look, + and a thrill of joy dried Julie’s tears. She held out her young, soft hand + to the old Marquise, who seemed to ask for it, and the understanding + between the two women was completed by the close grasp of their fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Poor orphan child!” + </p> + <p> + The words came like a final flash of enlightenment to Julie. It seemed to + her that she heard her father’s prophetic voice again. + </p> + <p> + “Your hands are burning! Are they always like this?” asked the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “The fever only left me seven or eight days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You had a fever upon you, and said nothing about it to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I have had it for a year,” said Julie, with a kind of timid anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “My good little angel, then your married life hitherto has been one long + time of suffering?” + </p> + <p> + Julie did not venture to reply, but an affirmative sign revealed the whole + truth. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + “On! no, no, aunt. Victor loves me, he almost idolizes me, and I adore + him, he is so kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you love him; but you avoid him, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes... sometimes... He seeks me too often.” + </p> + <p> + “And often when you are alone you are troubled with the fear that he may + suddenly break in on your solitude?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, aunt. But, indeed, I love him, I do assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not, in your own thoughts, blame yourself because you find it + impossible to share his pleasures? Do you never think at times that + marriage is a heavier yoke than an illicit passion could be?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that is just it,” she wept. “It is all a riddle to me, and can you + guess it all? My faculties are benumbed, I have no ideas, I can scarcely + see at all. I am weighed down by vague dread, which freezes me till I + cannot feel, and keeps me in continual torpor. I have no voice with which + to pity myself, no words to express my trouble. I suffer, and I am ashamed + to suffer when Victor is happy at my cost.” + </p> + <p> + “Babyish nonsense, and rubbish, all of it!” exclaimed the aunt, and a gay + smile, an after-glow of the joys of her own youth, suddenly lighted up her + withered face. + </p> + <p> + “And do you too laugh!” the younger woman cried despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “It was just my own case,” the Marquise returned promptly. “And now Victor + has left you, you have become a girl again, recovering a tranquillity + without pleasure and without pain, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + Julie opened wide eyes of bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “In fact, my angel, you adore Victor, do you not? But still you would + rather be a sister to him than a wife, and, in short, your marriage is + emphatically not a success?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—no, aunt. But why do you smile?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you are right, poor child! There is nothing very amusing in all this. + Your future would be big with more than one mishap if I had not taken you + under my protection, if my old experience of life had not guessed the very + innocent cause of your troubles. My nephew did not deserve his good + fortune, the blockhead! In the reign of our well-beloved Louis Quinze, a + young wife in your position would very soon have punished her husband for + behaving like a ruffian. The selfish creature! The men who serve under + this Imperial tyrant are all of them ignorant boors. They take brutality + for gallantry; they know no more of women than they know of love; and + imagine that because they go out to face death on the morrow, they may + dispense to-day with all consideration and attentions for us. The time was + when a man could love and die too at the proper time. My niece, I will + form you. I will put an end to this unhappy divergence between you, a + natural thing enough, but it would end in mutual hatred and desire for a + divorce, always supposing that you did not die on the way to despair.” + </p> + <p> + Julie’s amazement equaled her surprise as she listened to her aunt. She + was surprised by her language, dimly divining rather than appreciating the + wisdom of the words she heard, and very much dismayed to find what this + relative, out of great experience, passed judgment upon Victor as her + father had done, though in somewhat milder terms. Perhaps some quick + prevision of the future crossed her mind; doubtless, at any rate, she felt + the heavy weight of the burden which must inevitably overwhelm her, for + she burst into tears, and sprang to the old lady’s arms. “Be my mother,” + she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + The aunt shed no tears. The Revolution had left old ladies of the Monarchy + but few tears to shed. Love, in bygone days, and the Terror at a later + time, had familiarized them with extremes of joy and anguish in such a + sort that, amid the perils of life, they preserved their dignity and + coolness, a capacity for sincere but undemonstrative affection which never + disturbed their well-bred self-possession, and a dignity of demeanor which + a younger generation has done very ill to discard. + </p> + <p> + The dowager took Julie in her arms, and kissed her on the forehead with a + tenderness and pity more often found in women’s ways and manner than in + their hearts. Then she coaxed her niece with kind, soothing words, assured + her of a happy future, lulled her with promises of love, and put her to + bed as if she had been not a niece, but a daughter, a much-beloved + daughter whose hopes and cares she had made her own. Perhaps the old + Marquise had found her own youth and inexperience and beauty again in this + nephew’s wife. And the Countess fell asleep, happy to have found a friend, + nay a mother, to whom she could tell everything freely. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when the two women kissed each other with heartfelt + kindness, and that look of intelligence which marks a real advance in + friendship, a closer intimacy between two souls, they heard the sound of + horsehoofs, and, turning both together, saw the young Englishman ride + slowly past the window, after his wont. Apparently he had made a certain + study of the life led by the two lonely women, for he never failed to ride + by as they sat at breakfast, and again at dinner. His horse slackened pace + of its own accord, and for the space of time required to pass the two + windows in the room, its rider turned a melancholy look upon the Countess, + who seldom deigned to take the slightest notion of him. Not so the + Marquise. Minds not necessarily little find it difficult to resist the + little curiosity which fastens upon the most trifling event that enlivens + provincial life; and the Englishman’s mute way of expressing his timid, + earnest love tickled Mme. de Listomere. For her the periodically recurrent + glance became a part of the day’s routine, hailed daily with new jests. As + the two women sat down to table, both of them looked out at the same + moment. This time Julie’s eyes met Arthur’s with such a precision of + sympathy that the color rose to her face. The stranger immediately urged + his horse into a gallop and went. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done, madame?” asked Julie. “People see this Englishman go + past the house, and they will take it for granted that I—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” interrupted her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, could I not tell him to discontinue his promenades?” + </p> + <p> + “Would not that be a way of telling him that he was dangerous? You might + put that notion into his head. And besides, can you prevent a man from + coming and going as he pleases? Our meals shall be served in another room + to-morrow; and when this young gentleman sees us no longer, there will be + an end of making love to you through the window. There, dear child, that + is how a woman of the world does.” + </p> + <p> + But the measure of Julie’s misfortune was to be filled up. The two women + had scarcely risen from table when Victor’s man arrived in hot haste from + Bourges with a letter for the Countess from her husband. The servant had + ridden by unfrequented ways. + </p> + <p> + Victor sent his wife news of the downfall of the Empire and the + capitulation of Paris. He himself had gone over to the Bourbons, and all + France was welcoming them back with transports of enthusiasm. He could not + go so far as Tours, but he begged her to come at once to join him at + Orleans, where he hoped to be in readiness with passports for her. His + servant, an old soldier, would be her escort so far as Orleans; he + (Victor) believed that the road was still open. + </p> + <p> + “You have not a moment to lose, madame,” said the man. “The Prussians, + Austrians, and English are about to effect a junction either at Blois or + at Orleans.” + </p> + <p> + A few hours later, Julie’s preparations were made, and she started out + upon her journey in an old traveling carriage lent by her aunt. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you not come with us to Paris?” she asked, as she put her arms + about the Marquise. “Now that the Bourbons have come back you would be—” + </p> + <p> + “Even if there had not been this unhoped-for return, I should still have + gone to Paris, my poor child, for my advice is only too necessary to both + you and Victor. So I shall make all my preparations for rejoining you + there.” + </p> + <p> + Julie set out. She took her maid with her, and the old soldier galloped + beside the carriage as escort. At nightfall, as they changed horses for + the last stage before Blois, Julie grew uneasy. All the way from Amboise + she had heard the sound of wheels behind them, a carriage following hers + had kept at the same distance. She stood on the step and looked out to see + who her traveling companions might be, and in the moonlight saw Arthur + standing three paces away, gazing fixedly at the chaise which contained + her. Again their eyes met. The Countess hastily flung herself back in her + seat, but a feeling of dread set her pulses throbbing. It seemed to her, + as to most innocent and inexperienced young wives, that she was herself to + blame for this love which she had all unwittingly inspired. With this + thought came an instinctive terror, perhaps a sense of her own + helplessness before aggressive audacity. One of a man’s strongest weapons + is the terrible power of compelling a woman to think of him when her + naturally lively imagination takes alarm or offence at the thought that + she is followed. + </p> + <p> + The Countess bethought herself of her aunt’s advice, and made up her mind + that she would not stir from her place during the rest of the journey; but + every time the horses were changed she heard the Englishman pacing round + the two carriages, and again upon the road heard the importunate sound of + the wheels of his calèche. Julie soon began to think that, when once + reunited to her husband, Victor would know how to defend her against this + singular persecution. + </p> + <p> + “Yet suppose that in spite of everything, this young man does not love + me?” This was the thought that came last of all. + </p> + <p> + No sooner did she reach Orleans than the Prussians stopped the chaise. It + was wheeled into an inn-yard and put under a guard of soldiers. Resistance + was out of the question. The foreign soldiers made the three travelers + understand by signs that they were obeying orders, and that no one could + be allowed to leave the carriage. For about two hours the Countess sat in + tears, a prisoner surrounded by the guard, who smoked, laughed, and + occasionally stared at her with insolent curiosity. At last, however, she + saw her captors fall away from the carriage with a sort of respect, and + heard at the same time the sound of horses entering the yard. Another + moment, and a little group of foreign officers, with an Austrian general + at their head, gathered about the door of the traveling carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said the General, “pray accept our apologies. A mistake has been + made. You may continue your journey without fear; and here is a passport + which will spare you all further annoyance of any kind.” + </p> + <p> + Trembling the Countess took the paper, and faltered out some vague words + of thanks. She saw Arthur, now wearing an English uniform, standing beside + the General, and could not doubt that this prompt deliverance was due to + him. The young Englishman himself looked half glad, half melancholy; his + face was turned away, and he only dared to steal an occasional glance at + Julie’s face. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the passport, Mme. d’Aiglemont reached Paris without further + misadventure, and there she found her husband. Victor d’Aiglemont, + released from his oath of allegiance to the Emperor, had met with a most + flattering reception from the Comte d’Artois, recently appointed + Lieutenant-General of the kingdom by his brother Louis XVIII. D’Aiglemont + received a commission in the Life Guards, equivalent to the rank of + general. But amid the rejoicings over the return of the Bourbons, fate + dealt poor Julie a terrible blow. The death of the Marquise de + Listomere-Landon was an irreparable loss. The old lady died of joy and of + an accession of gout to the heart when the Duc d’Angoulême came back to + Tours, and the one living being entitled by her age to enlighten Victor, + the woman who, by discreet counsels, might have brought about perfect + unanimity of husband and wife, was dead; and Julie felt the full extent of + her loss. Henceforward she must stand alone between herself and her + husband. But she was young and timid; there could be no doubt of the + result, or that from the first she would elect to bear her lot in silence. + The very perfection of her character forbade her to venture to swerve + from her duties, or to attempt to inquire into the cause of her + sufferings, for to put an end to them would have been to venture on + delicate ground, and Julie’s girlish modesty shrank from the thought. + </p> + <p> + A word as to M. d’Aiglemont’s destinies under the Restoration. + </p> + <p> + How many men are there whose utter incapacity is a secret kept from most + of their acquaintance. For such as these high rank, high office, + illustrious birth, a certain veneer of politeness, and considerable + reserve of manner, or the <i>prestige</i> of great fortunes, are but so + many sentinels to turn back critics who would penetrate to the presence of + the real man. Such men are like kings, in that their real figure, + character, and life can never be known nor justly appreciated, because + they are always seen from too near or too far. Factitious merit has a way + of asking questions and saying little; and understands the art of putting + others forward to save the necessity of posing before them; then, with a + happy knack of its own, it draws and attaches others by the thread of the + ruling passion of self-interest, keeping men of far greater abilities to + play like puppets, and despising those whom it has brought down to its own + level. The petty fixed idea naturally prevails; it has the advantage of + persistence over the plasticity of great thoughts. + </p> + <p> + The observer who should seek to estimate and appraise the negative values + of these empty heads needs subtlety rather than superior wit for the task; + patience is a more necessary part of his judicial outfit than great mental + grasp, cunning and tact rather than any elevation or greatness of ideas. + Yet skilfully as such usurpers can cover and defend their weak points, it + is difficult to delude wife and mother and children and the house-friend + of the family; fortunately for them, however, these persons almost always + keep a secret which in a manner touches the honor of all, and not + unfrequently go so far as to help to foist the imposture upon the public. + And if, thanks to such domestic conspiracy, many a noodle passes current + for a man of ability, on the other hand many another who has real ability + is taken for a noodle to redress the balance, and the total average of + this kind of false coin in circulation in the state is a pretty constant + quantity. + </p> + <p> + Bethink yourself now of the part to be played by a clever woman quick to + think and feel, mated with a husband of this kind, and can you not see a + vision of lives full of sorrow and self-sacrifice? Nothing upon earth can + repay such hearts so full of love and tender tact. Put a strong-willed + woman in this wretched situation, and she will force a way out of it for + herself by a crime, like Catherine II., whom men nevertheless style “the + Great.” But these women are not all seated upon thrones, they are for the + most part doomed to domestic unhappiness none the less terrible because + obscure. + </p> + <p> + Those who seek consolation in this present world for their woes often + effect nothing but a change of ills if they remain faithful to their + duties; or they commit a sin if they break the laws for their pleasure. + All these reflections are applicable to Julie’s domestic life. + </p> + <p> + Before the fall of Napoleon nobody was jealous of d’Aiglemont. He was one + colonel among many, an efficient orderly staff-officer, as good a man as + you could find for a dangerous mission, as unfit as well could be for an + important command. D’Aiglemont was looked upon as a dashing soldier such + as the Emperor liked, the kind of man whom his mess usually calls “a good + fellow.” The Restoration gave him back his title of Marquis, and did not + find him ungrateful; he followed the Bourbons into exile at Ghent, a piece + of logical loyalty which falsified the horoscope drawn for him by his late + father-in-law, who predicted that Victor would remain a colonel all his + life. After the Hundred Days he received the appointment of + Lieutenant-General, and for the second time became a marquis; but it was + M. d’Aiglemont’s ambition to be a peer of France. He adopted, therefore, + the maxims and the politics of the <i>Conservateur</i>, cloaked himself in + dissimulation which hid nothing (there being nothing to hide), cultivated + gravity of countenance and the art of asking questions and saying little, + and was taken for a man of profound wisdom. Nothing drew him from his + intrenchments behind the forms of politeness; he laid in a provision of + formulas, and made lavish use of his stock of the catch-words coined at + need in Paris to give fools the small change for the ore of great ideas + and events. Among men of the world he was reputed a man of taste and + discernment; and as a bigoted upholder of aristocratic opinions he was + held up for a noble character. If by chance he slipped now and again into + his old light-heartedness or levity, others were ready to discover an + undercurrent of diplomatic intention beneath his inanity and silliness. + “Oh! he only says exactly as much as he means to say,” thought these + excellent people. + </p> + <p> + So d’Aiglemont’s defects and good qualities stood him alike in good stead. + He did nothing to forfeit a high military reputation gained by his dashing + courage, for he had never been a commander-in-chief. Great thoughts surely + were engraven upon that manly aristocratic countenance, which imposed upon + every one but his own wife. And when everybody else believed in the + Marquis d’Aiglemont’s imaginary talents, the Marquis persuaded himself + before he had done that he was one of the most remarkable men at Court, + where, thanks to his purely external qualifications, he was in favor and + taken at his own valuation. + </p> + <p> + At home, however, M. d’Aiglemont was modest. Instinctively he felt that + his wife, young though she was, was his superior; and out of this + involuntary respect there grew an occult power which the Marquise was + obliged to wield in spite of all her efforts to shake off the burden. She + became her husband’s adviser, the director of his actions and his + fortunes. It was an unnatural position; she felt it as something of a + humiliation, a source of pain to be buried in the depths of her heart. + From the first her delicately feminine instinct told her that it is a far + better thing to obey a man of talent than to lead a fool; and that a young + wife compelled to act and think like a man is neither man nor woman, but a + being who lays aside all the charms of her womanhood along with its + misfortunes, yet acquires none of the privileges which our laws give to + the stronger sex. Beneath the surface her life was a bitter mockery. Was + she not compelled to protect her protector, to worship a hollow idol, a + poor creature who flung her the love of a selfish husband as the wages of + her continual self-sacrifice; who saw nothing in her but the woman; and + who either did not think it worth while, or (wrong quite as deep) did not + think at all of troubling himself about her pleasures, of inquiring into + the cause of her low spirits and dwindling health? And the Marquis, like + most men who chafe under a wife’s superiority, saved his self-love by + arguing from Julie’s physical feebleness a corresponding lack of mental + power, for which he was pleased to pity her; and he would cry out upon + fate which had given him a sickly girl for a wife. The executioner posed, + in fact, as the victim. + </p> + <p> + All the burdens of this dreary lot fell upon the Marquise, who still must + smile upon her foolish lord, and deck a house of mourning with flowers, + and make a parade of happiness in a countenance wan with secret torture. + And with this sense of responsibility for the honor of both, with the + magnificent immolation of self, the young Marquise unconsciously acquired + a wifely dignity, a consciousness of virtue which became her safeguard + amid many dangers. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, if her heart were sounded to the very depths, this intimate + closely hidden wretchedness, following upon her unthinking, girlish first + love, had roused in her an abhorrence of passion; possibly she had no + conception of its rapture, nor of the forbidden but frenzied bliss for + which some women will renounce all the laws of prudence and the principles + of conduct upon which society is based. She put from her like a dream the + thought of bliss and tender harmony of love promised by Mme. de + Listomere-Landon’s mature experience, and waited resignedly for the end of + her troubles with a hope that she might die young. + </p> + <p> + Her health had declined daily since her return from Touraine; her life + seemed to be measured to her in suffering; yet her ill-health was + graceful, her malady seemed little more than languor, and might well be + taken by careless eyes for a fine lady’s whim of invalidism. + </p> + <p> + Her doctors had condemned her to keep to the sofa, and there among her + flowers lay the Marquise, fading as they faded. She was not strong enough + to walk, nor to bear the open air, and only went out in a closed carriage. + Yet with all the marvels of modern luxury and invention about her, she + looked more like an indolent queen than an invalid. A few of her friends, + half in love perhaps with her sad plight and her fragile look, sure of + finding her at home, and speculating no doubt upon her future restoration + to health, would come to bring her the news of the day, and kept her + informed of the thousand and one small events which fill life in Paris + with variety. Her melancholy, deep and real though it was, was still the + melancholy of a woman rich in many ways. The Marquise d’Aiglemont was like + a flower, with a dark insect gnawing at its root. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally she went into society, not to please herself, but in + obedience to the exigencies of the position which her husband aspired to + take. In society her beautiful voice and the perfection of her singing + could always gain the social success so gratifying to a young woman; but + what was social success to her, who drew nothing from it for her heart or + her hopes? Her husband did not care for music. And, moreover, she seldom + felt at her ease in salons, where her beauty attracted homage not wholly + disinterested. Her position excited a sort of cruel compassion, a morbid + curiosity. She was suffering from an inflammatory complaint not + infrequently fatal, for which our nosology as yet has found no name, a + complaint spoken of among women in confidential whispers. In spite of the + silence in which her life was spent, the cause of her ill-health was no + secret. She was still but a girl in spite of her marriage; the slightest + glance threw her into confusion. In her endeavor not to blush, she was + always laughing, always apparently in high spirits; she would never admit + that she was not perfectly well, and anticipated questions as to her + health by shame-stricken subterfuges. + </p> + <p> + In 1817, however, an event took place which did much to alleviate Julie’s + hitherto deplorable existence. A daughter was born to her, and she + determined to nurse her child herself. For two years motherhood, its + all-absorbing multiplicity of cares and anxious joys, made life less hard + for her. She and her husband lived necessarily apart. Her physicians + predicted improved health, but the Marquise herself put no faith in these + auguries based on theory. Perhaps, like many a one for whom life has lost + its sweetness, she looked forward to death as a happy termination of the + drama. + </p> + <p> + But with the beginning of the year 1819 life grew harder than ever. Even + while she congratulated herself upon the negative happiness which she had + contrived to win, she caught a terrifying glimpse of yawning depths below + it. She had passed by degrees out of her husband’s life. Her fine tact and + her prudence told her that misfortune must come, and that not singly, of + this cooling of an affection already lukewarm and wholly selfish. Sure + though she was of her ascendency over Victor, and certain as she felt of + his unalterable esteem, she dreaded the influence of unbridled passions + upon a head so empty, so full of rash self-conceit. + </p> + <p> + Julie’s friends often found her absorbed in prolonged musings; the less + clairvoyant among them would jestingly ask her what she was thinking + about, as if a young wife would think of nothing but frivolity, as if + there were not almost always a depth of seriousness in a mother’s + thoughts. Unhappiness, like great happiness, induces dreaming. Sometimes + as Julie played with her little Hélène, she would gaze darkly at her, + giving no reply to the childish questions in which a mother delights, + questioning the present and the future as to the destiny of this little + one. Then some sudden recollection would bring back the scene of the + review at the Tuileries and fill her eyes with tears. Her father’s + prophetic warnings rang in her ears, and conscience reproached her that + she had not recognized its wisdom. Her troubles had all come of her own + wayward folly, and often she knew not which among so many were the hardest + to bear. The sweet treasures of her soul were unheeded, and not only so, + she could never succeed in making her husband understand her, even in the + commonest everyday things. Just as the power to love developed and grew + strong and active, a legitimate channel for the affections of her nature + was denied her, and wedded love was extinguished in grave physical and + mental sufferings. Add to this that she now felt for her husband that pity + closely bordering upon contempt, which withers all affection at last. Even + if she had not learned from conversations with some of her friends, from + examples in life, from sundry occurrences in the great world, that love + can bring ineffable bliss, her own wounds would have taught her to divine + the pure and deep happiness which binds two kindred souls each to each. + </p> + <p> + In the picture which her memory traced of the past, Arthur’s frank face + stood out daily nobler and purer; it was but a flash, for upon that + recollection she dared not dwell. The young Englishman’s shy, silent love + for her was the one event since her marriage which had left a lingering + sweetness in her darkened and lonely heart. It may be that all the + blighted hopes, all the frustrated longings which gradually clouded + Julie’s mind, gathered, by a not unnatural trick of imagination, about + this man—whose manners, sentiments, and character seemed to have so + much in common with her own. This idea still presented itself to her mind + fitfully and vaguely, like a dream; yet from that dream, which always + ended in a sigh, Julie awoke to greater wretchedness, to keener + consciousness of the latent anguish brooding beneath her imaginary bliss. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally her self-pity took wilder and more daring flights. She + determined to have happiness at any cost; but still more often she lay a + helpless victim of an indescribable numbing stupor, the words she heard + had no meaning to her, or the thoughts which arose in her mind were so + vague and indistinct that she could not find language to express them. + Balked of the wishes of her heart, realities jarred harshly upon her + girlish dreams of life, but she was obliged to devour her tears. To whom + could she make complaint? Of whom be understood? She possessed, moreover, + that highest degree of woman’s sensitive pride, the exquisite delicacy of + feeling which silences useless complainings and declines to use an + advantage to gain a triumph which can only humiliate both victor and + vanquished. + </p> + <p> + Julie tried to endow M. d’Aiglemont with her own abilities and virtues, + flattering herself that thus she might enjoy the happiness lacking in her + lot. All her woman’s ingenuity and tact was employed in making the best of + the situation; pure waste of pains unsuspected by him, whom she thus + strengthened in his despotism. There were moments when misery became an + intoxication, expelling all ideas, all self-control; but, fortunately, + sincere piety always brought her back to one supreme hope; she found a + refuge in the belief in a future life, a wonderful thought which enabled + her to take up her painful task afresh. No elation of victory followed + those terrible inward battles and throes of anguish; no one knew of those + long hours of sadness; her haggard glances met no response from human + eyes, and during the brief moments snatched by chance for weeping, her + bitter tears fell unheeded and in solitude. + </p> + <p> + One evening in January 1820, the Marquise became aware of the full gravity + of the crisis, gradually brought on by force of circumstances. When a + husband and wife know each other thoroughly, and their relation has long + been a matter of use and wont, when the wife has learned to interpret + every slightest sign, when her quick insight discerns thoughts and facts + which her husband keeps from her, a chance word, or a remark so carelessly + let fall in the first instance, seems, upon subsequent reflection, like + the swift breaking out of light. A wife not seldom suddenly awakes upon + the brink of a precipice or in the depths of the abyss; and thus it was + with the Marquise. She was feeling glad to have been left to herself for + some days, when the real reason of her solitude flashed upon her. Her + husband, whether fickle and tired of her, or generous and full of pity for + her, was hers no longer. + </p> + <p> + In the moment of that discovery she forgot herself, her sacrifices, all + that she had passed through, she remembered only that she was a mother. + Looking forward, she thought of her daughter’s fortune, of the future + welfare of the one creature through whom some gleams of happiness came to + her, of her Hélène, the only possession which bound her to life. + </p> + <p> + Then Julie wished to live to save her child from a stepmother’s terrible + thraldom, which might crush her darling’s life. Upon this new vision of + threatened possibilities followed one of those paroxysms of thought at + fever-heat which consume whole years of life. + </p> + <p> + Henceforward husband and wife were doomed to be separated by a whole world + of thought, and all the weight of that world she must bear alone. Hitherto + she had felt sure that Victor loved her, in so far as he could be said to + love; she had been the slave of pleasures which she did not share; to-day + the satisfaction of knowing that she purchased his contentment with her + tears was hers no longer. She was alone in the world, nothing was left to + her now but a choice of evils. In the calm stillness of the night her + despondency drained her of all her strength. She rose from her sofa beside + the dying fire, and stood in the lamplight gazing, dry-eyed, at her child, + when M. d’Aiglemont came in. He was in high spirits. Julie called to him + to admire Hélène as she lay asleep, but he met his wife’s enthusiasm with + a commonplace: + </p> + <p> + “All children are nice at that age.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the curtains about the cot after a careless kiss on the child’s + forehead. Then he turned his eyes on Julie, took her hand and drew her to + sit beside him on the sofa, where she had been sitting with such dark + thoughts surging up in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking very handsome to-night, Mme. d’Aiglemont,” he exclaimed, + with the gaiety intolerable to the Marquise, who knew its emptiness so + well. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you spent the evening?” she asked, with a pretence of complete + indifference. + </p> + <p> + “At Mme. de Sérizy’s.” + </p> + <p> + He had taken up a fire-screen, and was looking intently at the gauze. He + had not noticed the traces of tears on his wife’s face. Julie shuddered. + Words could not express the overflowing torrent of thoughts which must be + forced down into inner depths. + </p> + <p> + “Mme. de Sérizy is giving a concert on Monday, and is dying for you to go. + You have not been anywhere for some time past, and that is enough to set + her longing to see you at her house. She is a good-natured woman, and very + fond of you. I should be glad if you would go; I all but promised that you + should——” + </p> + <p> + “I will go.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so penetrating, so significant in the tones of Julie’s + voice, in her accent, in the glance that went with the words, that Victor, + startled out of his indifference, stared at his wife in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + That was all, Julie had guessed that it was Mme. de Sérizy who had stolen + her husband’s heart from her. Her brooding despair benumbed her. She + appeared to be deeply interested in the fire. Victor meanwhile still + played with the fire-screen. He looked bored, like a man who has enjoyed + himself elsewhere, and brought home the consequent lassitude. He yawned + once or twice, then he took up a candle in one hand, and with the other + languidly sought his wife’s neck for the usual embrace; but Julie stooped + and received the good-night kiss upon her forehead; the formal, loveless + grimace seemed hateful to her at that moment. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the door closed upon Victor, his wife sank into a seat. Her + limbs tottered beneath her, she burst into tears. None but those who have + endured the torture of some such scene can fully understand the anguish + that it means, or divine the horror of the long-drawn tragedy arising out + of it. + </p> + <p> + Those simple, foolish words, the silence that followed between the husband + and wife, the Marquis’ gesture and expression, the way in which he sat + before the fire, his attitude as he made that futile attempt to put a kiss + on his wife’s throat,—all these things made up a dark hour for + Julie, and the catastrophe of the drama of her sad and lonely life. In her + madness she knelt down before the sofa, burying her face in it to shut out + everything from sight, and prayed to Heaven, putting a new significance + into the words of the evening prayer, till it became a cry from the depths + of her own soul, which would have gone to her husband’s heart if he had + heard it. + </p> + <p> + The following week she spent in deep thought for her future, utterly + overwhelmed by this new trouble. She made a study of it, trying to + discover a way to regain her ascendency over the Marquis, scheming how to + live long enough to watch over her daughter’s happiness, yet to live true + to her own heart. Then she made up her mind. She would struggle with her + rival. She would shine once more in society. She would feign the love + which she could no longer feel, she would captivate her husband’s fancy; + and when she had lured him into her power, she would coquet with him like + a capricious mistress who takes delight in tormenting a lover. This + hateful strategy was the only possible way out of her troubles. In this + way she would become mistress of the situation; she would prescribe her + own sufferings at her good pleasure, and reduce them by enslaving her + husband, and bringing him under a tyrannous yoke. She felt not the + slightest remorse for the hard life which he should lead. At a bound she + reached cold, calculating indifference—for her daughter’s sake. She + had gained a sudden insight into the treacherous, lying arts of degraded + women; the wiles of coquetry, the revolting cunning which arouses such + profound hatred in men at the mere suspicion of innate corruption in a + woman. + </p> + <p> + Julie’s feminine vanity, her interests, and a vague desire to inflict + punishment, all wrought unconsciously with the mother’s love within her to + force her into a path where new sufferings awaited her. But her nature was + too noble, her mind too fastidious, and, above all things, too open, to be + the accomplice of these frauds for very long. Accustomed as she was to + self-scrutiny, at the first step in vice—for vice it was—the + cry of conscience must inevitably drown the clamor of the passions and of + selfishness. Indeed, in a young wife whose heart is still pure, whose love + has never been mated, the very sentiment of motherhood is overpowered by + modesty. Modesty; is not all womanhood summed up in that? But just now + Julie would not see any danger, anything wrong, in her life. + </p> + <p> + She went to Mme. de Sérizy’s concert. Her rival had expected to see a + pallid, drooping woman. The Marquise wore rouge, and appeared in all the + splendor of a toilet which enhanced her beauty. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Sérizy was one of those women who claim to exercise a sort of sway + over fashions and society in Paris; she issued her decrees, saw them + received in her own circle, and it seemed to her that all the world obeyed + them. She aspired to epigram, she set up for an authority in matters of + taste. Literature, politics, men and women, all alike were submitted to + her censorship, and the lady herself appeared to defy the censorship of + others. Her house was in every respect a model of good taste. + </p> + <p> + Julie triumphed over the Countess in her own salon, filled as it was with + beautiful women and women of fashion. Julie’s liveliness and sparkling wit + gathered all the most distinguished men in the rooms about her. Her + costume was faultless, for the despair of the women, who one and all + envied her the fashion of her dress, and attributed the moulded outline of + her bodice to the genius of some unknown dressmaker, for women would + rather believe in miracles worked by the science of chiffons than in the + grace and perfection of the form beneath. + </p> + <p> + When Julie went to the piano to sing Desdemona’s song, the men in the + rooms flocked about her to hear the celebrated voice so long mute, and + there was a deep silence. The Marquise saw the heads clustered thickly in + the doorways, saw all eyes turned upon her, and a sharp thrill of + excitement quivered through her. She looked for her husband, gave him a + coquettish side-glance, and it pleased her to see that his vanity was + gratified to no small degree. In the joy of triumph she sang the first + part of <i>Al piu salice</i>. Her audience was enraptured. Never had + Malibran nor Pasta sung with expression and intonation so perfect. But at + the beginning of the second part she glanced over the glistening groups + and saw—Arthur. He never took his eyes from her face. A quick + shudder thrilled through her, and her voice faltered. Up hurried Mme. de + Sérizy from her place. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, dear? Oh! poor little thing! she is in such weak health; I + was so afraid when I saw her begin a piece so far beyond her strength.” + </p> + <p> + The song was interrupted. Julie was vexed. She had not courage to sing any + longer, and submitted to her rival’s treacherous sympathy. There was a + whisper among the women. The incident led to discussions; they guessed + that the struggle had begun between the Marquise and Mme. de Sérizy, and + their tongues did not spare the latter. + </p> + <p> + Julie’s strange, perturbing presentiments were suddenly realized. Through + her preoccupation with Arthur she had loved to imagine that with that + gentle, refined face he must remain faithful to his first love. There were + times when she felt proud that this ideal, pure, and passionate young love + should have been hers; the passion of the young lover whose thoughts are + all for her to whom he dedicates every moment of his life, who blushes as + a woman blushes, thinks as a woman might think, forgetting ambition, fame, + and fortune in devotion to his love,—she need never fear a rival. + All these things she had fondly and idly dreamed of Arthur; now all at + once it seemed to her that her dream had come true. In the young + Englishman’s half-feminine face she read the same deep thoughts, the same + pensive melancholy, the same passive acquiescence in a painful lot, and an + endurance like her own. She saw herself in him. Trouble and sadness are + the most eloquent of love’s interpreters, and response is marvelously + swift between two suffering creatures, for in them the powers of intuition + and of assimilation of facts and ideas are well-nigh unerring and perfect. + So with the violence of the shock the Marquise’s eyes were opened to the + whole extent of the future danger. She was only too glad to find a pretext + for her nervousness in her chronic ill-health, and willingly submitted to + be overwhelmed by Mme. de Sérizy’s insidious compassion. + </p> + <p> + That incident of the song caused talk and discussion which differed with + the various groups. Some pitied Julie’s fate, and regretted that such a + remarkable woman was lost to society; others fell to wondering what the + cause of her ill-health and seclusion could be. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, my dear Ronquerolles,” said the Marquis, addressing Mme. de + Sérizy’s brother, “you used to envy me my good fortune, and you used to + blame me for my infidelities. Pshaw, you would not find much to envy in my + lot, if, like me, you had a pretty wife so fragile that for the past two + years you might not so much as kiss her hand for fear of damaging her. Do + not you encumber yourself with one of those fragile ornaments, only fit to + put in a glass case, so brittle and so costly that you are always obliged + to be careful of them. They tell me that you are afraid of snow or wet for + that fine horse of yours; how often do you ride him? That is just my own + case. It is true that my wife gives me no ground for jealousy, but my + marriage is purely ornamental business; if you think that I am a married + man, you are grossly mistaken. So there is some excuse for my + unfaithfulness. I should dearly like to know what you gentlemen who laugh + at me would do in my place. Not many men would be so considerate as I am. + I am sure,” (here he lowered his voice) “that Mme. d’Aiglemont suspects + nothing. And then, of course, I have no right to complain at all; I am + very well off. Only there is nothing more trying for a man who feels + things than the sight of suffering in a poor creature to whom you are + attached——” + </p> + <p> + “You must have a very sensitive nature, then,” said M. de Ronquerolles, + “for you are not often at home.” + </p> + <p> + Laughter followed on the friendly epigram; but Arthur, who made one of the + group, maintained a frigid imperturbability in his quality of an English + gentleman who takes gravity for the very basis of his being. D’Aiglemont’s + eccentric confidence, no doubt, had kindled some kind of hope in Arthur, + for he stood patiently awaiting an opportunity of a word with the Marquis. + He had not to wait long. + </p> + <p> + “My Lord Marquis,” he said, “I am unspeakably pained to see the state of + Mme. d’Aiglemont’s health. I do not think that you would talk jestingly + about it if you knew that unless she adopts a certain course of treatment + she must die miserably. If I use this language to you, it is because I am + in a manner justified in using it, for I am quite certain that I can save + Mme. d’Aiglemont’s life and restore her to health and happiness. It is + odd, no doubt, that a man of my rank should be a physician, yet + nevertheless chance determined that I should study medicine. I find life + dull enough here,” he continued, affecting a cold selfishness to gain his + ends, “it makes no difference to me whether I spend my time and travel for + the benefit of a suffering fellow-creature, or waste it in Paris on some + nonsense or other. It is very, very seldom that a cure is completed in + these complaints, for they require constant care, time, and patience, and, + above all things, money. Travel is needed, and a punctilious following out + of prescriptions, by no means unpleasant, and varied daily. Two <i>gentlemen</i>” + (laying a stress on the word in its English sense) “can understand each + other. I give you warning that if you accept my proposal, you shall be a + judge of my conduct at every moment. I will do nothing without consulting + you, without your superintendence, and I will answer for the success of my + method if you will consent to follow it. Yes, unless you wish to be Mme. + d’Aiglemont’s husband no longer, and that before long,” he added in the + Marquis’ ear. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis laughed. “One thing is certain—that only an Englishman + could make me such an extraordinary proposal,” he said. “Permit me to + leave it unaccepted and unrejected. I will think it over; and my wife must + be consulted first in any case.” + </p> + <p> + Julie had returned to the piano. This time she sang a song from <i>Semiramide, + Son regina, son guerriera</i>, and the whole room applauded, a stifled + outburst of wellbred acclamation which proved that the Faubourg + Saint-Germain had been roused to enthusiasm by her singing. + </p> + <p> + The evening was over. D’Aiglemont brought his wife home, and Julie saw + with uneasy satisfaction that her first attempt had at once been + successful. Her husband had been roused out of indifference by the part + which she had played, and now he meant to honor her with such a passing + fancy as he might bestow upon some opera nymph. It amused Julie that she, + a virtuous married woman, should be treated thus. She tried to play with + her power, but at the outset her kindness broke down once more, and she + received the most terrible of all the lessons held in store for her by + fate. + </p> + <p> + Between two and three o’clock in the morning Julie sat up, sombre and + moody, beside her sleeping husband, in the room dimly lighted by the + flickering lamp. Deep silence prevailed. Her agony of remorse had lasted + near an hour; how bitter her tears had been none perhaps can realize save + women who have known such an experience as hers. Only such natures as + Julie’s can feel her loathing for a calculated caress, the horror of a + loveless kiss, of the heart’s apostasy followed by dolorous prostitution. + She despised herself; she cursed marriage. She could have longed for + death; perhaps if it had not been for a cry from her child, she would have + sprung from the window and dashed herself upon the pavement. M. + d’Aiglemont slept on peacefully at her side; his wife’s hot dropping tears + did not waken him. + </p> + <p> + But next morning Julie could be gay. She made a great effort to look + happy, to hide, not her melancholy, as heretofore, but an insuperable + loathing. From that day she no longer regarded herself as a blameless + wife. Had she not been false to herself? Why should she not play a double + part in the future, and display astounding depths of cunning in deceiving + her husband? In her there lay a hitherto undiscovered latent depravity, + lacking only opportunity, and her marriage was the cause. + </p> + <p> + Even now she had asked herself why she should struggle with love, when, + with her heart and her whole nature in revolt, she gave herself to the + husband whom she loved no longer. Perhaps, who knows? some piece of + fallacious reasoning, some bit of special pleading, lies at the root of + all sins, of all crimes. How shall society exist unless every individual + of which it is composed will make the necessary sacrifices of inclination + demanded by its laws? If you accept the benefits of civilized society, do + you not by implication engage to observe the conditions, the conditions of + its very existence? And yet, starving wretches, compelled to respect the + laws of property, are not less to be pitied than women whose natural + instincts and sensitiveness are turned to so many avenues of pain. + </p> + <p> + A few days after that scene of which the secret lay buried in the midnight + couch, d’Aiglemont introduced Lord Grenville. Julie gave the guest a + stiffly polite reception, which did credit to her powers of dissimulation. + Resolutely she silenced her heart, veiled her eyes, steadied her voice, + and she kept her future in her own hands. Then, when by these devices, + this innate woman-craft, as it may be called, she had discovered the full + extent of the love which she inspired, Mme. d’Aiglemont welcomed the hope + of a speedy cure, and no longer opposed her husband, who pressed her to + accept the young doctor’s offer. Yet she declined to trust herself with + Lord Grenville until after some further study of his words and manner, she + could feel certain that he had sufficient generosity to endure his pain in + silence. She had absolute power over him, and she had begun to abuse that + power already. Was she not a woman? + </p> + <p> + Montcontour is an old manor-house build upon the sandy cliffs above the + Loire, not far from the bridge where Julie’s journey was interrupted in + 1814. It is a picturesque, white chateau, with turrets covered with fine + stone carving like Mechlin lace; a chateau such as you often see in + Touraine, spick and span, ivy clad, standing among its groves of mulberry + trees and vineyards, with its hollow walks, its stone balustrades, and + cellars mined in the rock escarpments mirrored in the Loire. The roofs of + Montcontour gleam in the sun; the whole land glows in the burning heat. + Traces of the romantic charm of Spain and the south hover about the + enchanting spot. The breeze brings the scent of bell flowers and golden + broom, the air is soft, all about you lies a sunny land, a land which + casts its dreamy spell over your soul, a land of languor and of soft + desire, a fair, sweet-scented country, where pain is lulled to sleep and + passion wakes. No heart is cold for long beneath its clear sky, beside its + sparkling waters. One ambition dies after another, and you sink into + serene content and repose, as the sun sinks at the end of the day swathed + about with purple and azure. + </p> + <p> + One warm August evening in 1821 two people were climbing the paths cut in + the crags above the chateau, doubtless for the sake of the view from the + heights above. The two were Julie and Lord Grenville, but this Julie + seemed to be a new creature. The unmistakable color of health glowed in + her face. Overflowing vitality had brought a light into her eyes, which + sparkled through a moist film with that liquid brightness which gives such + irresistible charm to the eyes of children. She was radiant with smiles; + she felt the joy of living and all the possibilities of life. From the + very way in which she lifted her little feet, it was easy to see that no + suffering trammeled her lightest movements; there was no heaviness nor + languor in her eyes, her voice, as heretofore. Under the white silk + sunshade which screened her from the hot sunlight, she looked like some + young bride beneath her veil, or a maiden waiting to yield to the magical + enchantments of Love. + </p> + <p> + Arthur led her with a lover’s care, helping her up the pathway as if she + had been a child, finding the smoothest ways, avoiding the stones for her, + bidding her see glimpses of distance, or some flower beside the path, + always with the unfailing goodness, the same delicate design in all that + he did; the intuitive sense of this woman’s wellbeing seemed to be innate + in him, and as much, nay, perhaps more, a part of his being as the pulse + of his own life. + </p> + <p> + The patient and her doctor went step for step. There was nothing strange + for them in a sympathy which seemed to have existed since the day when + they first walked together. One will swayed them both; they stopped as + their senses received the same impression; every word and every glance + told of the same thought in either mind. They had climbed up through the + vineyards, and now they turned to sit on one of the long white stones, + quarried out of the caves in the hillside; but Julie stood awhile gazing + out over the landscape. + </p> + <p> + “What a beautiful country!” she cried. “Let us put up a tent and live + here. Victor, Victor, do come up here!” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Aiglemont answered by a halloo from below. He did not, however, hurry + himself, merely giving his wife a glance from time to time when the + windings of the path gave him a glimpse of her. Julie breathed the air + with delight. She looked up at Arthur, giving him one of those subtle + glances in which a clever woman can put the whole of her thought. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I should like to live here always,” she said. “Would it be possible + to tire of this beautiful valley?—What is the picturesque river + called, do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the Cise.” + </p> + <p> + “The Cise,” she repeated. “And all this country below, before us?” + </p> + <p> + “Those are the low hills above the Cher.” + </p> + <p> + “And away to the right? Ah, that is Tours. Only see how fine the cathedral + towers look in the distance.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent, and let fall the hand which she had stretched out towards + the view upon Arthur’s. Both admired the wide landscape made up of so much + blended beauty. Neither of them spoke. The murmuring voice of the river, + the pure air, and the cloudless heaven were all in tune with their + thronging thoughts and their youth and the love in their hearts. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! <i>mon Dieu</i>, how I love this country!” Julie continued, with + growing and ingenuous enthusiasm. “You lived here for a long while, did + you not?” she added after a pause. + </p> + <p> + A thrill ran through Lord Grenville at her words. + </p> + <p> + “It was down there,” he said, in a melancholy voice, indicating as he + spoke a cluster of walnut trees by the roadside, “that I, a prisoner, saw + you for the first time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but even at that time I felt very sad. This country looked wild to + me then, but now——” She broke off, and Lord Grenville did not + dare to look at her. + </p> + <p> + “All this pleasure I owe to you,” Julie began at last, after a long + silence. “Only the living can feel the joy of life, and until now have I + not been dead to it all? You have given me more than health, you have made + me feel all its worth—” + </p> + <p> + Women have an inimitable talent for giving utterance to strong feelings in + colorless words; a woman’s eloquence lies in tone and gesture, manner and + glance. Lord Grenville hid his face in his hands, for his tears filled his + eyes. This was Julie’s first word of thanks since they left Paris a year + ago. + </p> + <p> + For a whole year he had watched over the Marquise, putting his whole self + into the task. D’Aiglemont seconding him, he had taken her first to Aix, + then to la Rochelle, to be near the sea. From moment to moment he had + watched the changes worked in Julie’s shattered constitution by his wise + and simple prescriptions. He had cultivated her health as an enthusiastic + gardener might cultivate a rare flower. Yet, to all appearance, the + Marquise had quietly accepted Arthur’s skill and care with the egoism of a + spoiled Parisienne, or like a courtesan who has no idea of the cost of + things, nor of the worth of a man, and judges of both by their comparative + usefulness to her. + </p> + <p> + The influence of places upon us is a fact worth remarking. If melancholy + comes over us by the margin of a great water, another indelible law of our + nature so orders it that the mountains exercise a purifying influence upon + our feelings, and among the hills passion gains in depth by all that it + apparently loses in vivacity. Perhaps it was the light of the wide country + by the Loire, the height of the fair sloping hillside on which the lovers + sat, that induced the calm bliss of the moment when the whole extent of + the passion that lies beneath a few insignificant-sounding words is + divined for the first time with a delicious sense of happiness. + </p> + <p> + Julie had scarcely spoken the words which had moved Lord Grenville so + deeply, when a caressing breeze ruffled the treetops and filled the air + with coolness from the river; a few clouds crossed the sky, and the soft + cloud-shadows brought out all the beauty of the fair land below. + </p> + <p> + Julie turned away her head, lest Arthur should see the tears which she + succeeded in repressing; his emotion had spread at once to her. She dried + her eyes, but she dared not raise them lest he should read the excess of + joy in a glance. Her woman’s instinct told her that during this hour of + danger she must hide her love in the depths of her heart. Yet silence + might prove equally dangerous, and Julie saw that Lord Grenville was + unable to utter a word. She went on, therefore, in a gentle voice: + </p> + <p> + “You are touched by what I have said. Perhaps such a quick outburst of + feeling is the way in which a gracious and kind nature like yours reverses + a mistaken judgment. You must have thought me ungrateful when I was cold + and reserved, or cynical and hard, all through the journey which, + fortunately, is very near its end. I should not have been worthy of your + care if I had been unable to appreciate it. I have forgotten nothing. + Alas! I shall forget nothing, not the anxious way in which you watched + over me as a mother watches over her child, nor, and above all else, the + noble confidence of our life as brother and sister, the delicacy of your + conduct—winning charms, against which we women are defenceless. My + lord, it is out of my power to make you a return——” + </p> + <p> + At these words Julie hastily moved further away, and Lord Grenville made + no attempt to detain her. She went to a rock not far away, and there sat + motionless. What either felt remained a secret known to each alone; + doubtless they wept in silence. The singing of the birds about them, so + blithe, so overflowing with tenderness at sunset time, could only increase + the storm of passion which had driven them apart. Nature took up their + story for them, and found a language for the love of which they did not + dare to speak. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my lord,” said Julie, and she came and stood before Arthur with + a great dignity, which allowed her to take his hand in hers. “I am going + to ask you to hallow and purify the life which you have given back to me. + Here, we will part. I know,” she added, as she saw how white his face + grew, “I know that I am repaying you for your devotion by requiring of you + a sacrifice even greater than any which you have hitherto made for me, + sacrifices so great that they should receive some better recompense than + this.... But it must be... You must not stay in France. By laying this + command upon you, do I not give you rights which shall be held sacred?” + she added, holding his hand against her beating heart. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Arthur, and he rose. + </p> + <p> + He looked in the direction of d’Aiglemont, who appeared on the opposite + side of one of the hollow walks with the child in his arms. He had + scrambled up on the balustrade by the chateau that little Hélène might + jump down. + </p> + <p> + “Julie, I will not say a word of my love; we understand each other too + well. Deeply and carefully though I have hidden the pleasures of my heart, + you have shared them all. I feel it, I know it, I see it. And now, at this + moment, as I receive this delicious proof of the constant sympathy of our + hearts, I must go.... Cunning schemes for getting rid of him have crossed + my mind too often; the temptation might be irresistible if I stayed with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had the same thought,” she said, a look of pained surprise in her + troubled face. + </p> + <p> + Yet in her tone and involuntary shudder there was such virtue, such + certainty of herself, won in many a hard-fought battle with a love that + spoke in Julie’s tones and involuntary gestures, that Lord Grenville stood + thrilled with admiration of her. The mere shadow of a crime had been + dispelled from that clear conscience. The religious sentiment enthroned on + the fair forehead could not but drive away the evil thoughts that arise + unbidden, engendered by our imperfect nature, thoughts which make us aware + of the grandeur and the perils of human destiny. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” she said, “I should have drawn down your scorn upon me, and—I + should have been saved,” she added, and her eyes fell. “To be lowered in + your eyes, what is that but death?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the two heroic lovers were silent, choking down their sorrow. + Good or ill, it seemed that their thoughts were loyally one, and the joys + in the depths of their heart were no more experiences apart than the pain + which they strove most anxiously to hide. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right to complain,” she said after a while, “my misery is of my + own making,” and she raised her tear-filled eyes to the sky. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you don’t remember it, but that is the place where we met each + other for the first time,” shouted the General from below, and he waved + his hand towards the distance. “There, down yonder, near those poplars!” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman nodded abruptly by way of answer. + </p> + <p> + “So I was bound to die young and to know no happiness,” Julie continued. + “Yes, do not think that I live. Sorrow is just as fatal as the dreadful + disease which you have cured. I do not think that I am to blame. No. My + love is stronger than I am, and eternal; but all unconsciously it grew in + me; and I will not be guilty through my love. Nevertheless, though I shall + be faithful to my conscience as a wife, to my duties as a mother, I will + be no less faithful to the instincts of my heart. Hear me,” she cried in + an unsteady voice, “henceforth I belong to <i>him</i> no longer.” + </p> + <p> + By a gesture, dreadful to see in its undisguised loathing she indicated + her husband. + </p> + <p> + “The social code demands that I shall make his existence happy,” she + continued. “I will obey, I will be his servant, my devotion to him shall + be boundless; but from to-day I am a widow. I will neither be a prostitute + in my own eyes nor in those of the world. If I do not belong to M. + d’Aiglemont, I will never belong to another. You shall have nothing, + nothing save this which you have wrung from me. This is the doom which I + have passed upon myself,” she said, looking proudly at him. “And now, know + this—if you give way to a single criminal thought, M. d’Aiglemont’s + widow will enter a convent in Spain or Italy. By an evil chance we have + spoken of our love; perhaps that confession was bound to come; but our + hearts must never vibrate again like this. To-morrow you will receive a + letter from England, and we shall part, and never see each other again.” + </p> + <p> + The effort had exhausted all Julie’s strength. She felt her knees + trembling, and a feeling of deathly cold came over her. Obeying a woman’s + instinct, she sat down, lest she should sink into Arthur’s arms. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Julie!</i>” cried Lord Grenville. + </p> + <p> + The sharp cry rang through the air like a crack of thunder. Till then he + could not speak; now, all the words which the dumb lover could not utter + gathered themselves in that heartrending appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is wrong with her?” asked the General, who had hurried up at + that cry, and now suddenly confronted the two. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing serious,” said Julie, with that wonderful self-possession which a + woman’s quick-wittedness usually brings to her aid when it is most called + for. “The chill, damp air under the walnut tree made me feel quite faint + just now, and that must have alarmed this doctor of mine. Does he not look + on me as a very nearly finished work of art? He was startled, I suppose, + by the idea of seeing it destroyed.” With ostentatious coolness she took + Lord Grenville’s arm, smiled at her husband, took a last look at the + landscape, and went down the pathway, drawing her traveling companion with + her. + </p> + <p> + “This certainly is the grandest view that we have seen,” she said; “I + shall never forget it. Just look, Victor, what distance, what an expanse + of country, and what variety in it! I have fallen in love with this + landscape.” + </p> + <p> + Her laughter was almost hysterical, but to her husband it sounded natural. + She sprang gaily down into the hollow pathway and vanished. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she cried, when they had left M. d’Aiglemont far behind. “So soon? + Is it so soon? Another moment, and we can neither of us be ourselves; we + shall never be ourselves again, our life is over, in short—” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go slowly,” said Lord Grenville, “the carriages are still some way + off, and if we may put words into our glances, our hearts may live a + little longer.” + </p> + <p> + They went along the footpath by the river in the late evening light, + almost in silence; such vague words as they uttered, low as the murmur of + the Loire, stirred their souls to the depths. Just as the sun sank, a last + red gleam from the sky fell over them; it was like a mournful symbol of + their ill-starred love. + </p> + <p> + The General, much put out because the carriage was not at the spot where + they had left it, followed and outstripped the pair without interrupting + their converse. Lord Grenville’s high minded and delicate behavior + throughout the journey had completely dispelled the Marquis’ suspicions. + For some time past he had left his wife in freedom, reposing confidence in + the noble amateur’s Punic faith. Arthur and Julie walked on together in + the close and painful communion of two hearts laid waste. + </p> + <p> + So short a while ago as they climbed the cliffs at Montcontour, there had + been a vague hope in either mind, an uneasy joy for which they dared not + account to themselves; but now as they came along the pathway by the + river, they pulled down the frail structure of imaginings, the child’s + cardcastle, on which neither of them had dared to breathe. That hope was + over. + </p> + <p> + That very evening Lord Grenville left them. His last look at Julie made it + miserably plain that since the moment when sympathy revealed the full + extent of a tyrannous passion, he did well to mistrust himself. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, M. d’Aiglemont and his wife took their places in the + carriage without their traveling companion, and were whirled swiftly along + the road to Blois. The Marquise was constantly put in mind of the journey + made in 1814, when as yet she know nothing of love, and had been almost + ready to curse it for its persistency. Countless forgotten impressions + were revived. The heart has its own memory. A woman who cannot recollect + the most important great events will recollect through a lifetime things + which appealed to her feelings; and Julie d’Aiglemont found all the most + trifling details of that journey laid up in her mind. It was pleasant to + her to recall its little incidents as they occurred to her one by one; + there were points in the road when she could even remember the thoughts + that passed through her mind when she saw them first. + </p> + <p> + Victor had fallen violently in love with his wife since she had recovered + the freshness of her youth and all her beauty, and now he pressed close to + her side like a lover. Once he tried to put his arm round her, but she + gently disengaged herself, finding some excuse or other for evading the + harmless caress. In a little while she shrank from the close contact with + Victor, the sensation of warmth communicated by their position. She tried + to take the unoccupied place opposite, but Victor gallantly resigned the + back seat to her. For this attention she thanked him with a sigh, + whereupon he forgot himself, and the Don Juan of the garrison construed + his wife’s melancholy to his own advantage, so that at the end of the day + she was compelled to speak with a firmness which impressed him. + </p> + <p> + “You have all but killed me, dear, once already, as you know,” said she. + “If I were still an inexperienced girl, I might begin to sacrifice myself + afresh; but I am a mother, I have a daughter to bring up, and I owe as + much to her as to you. Let us resign ourselves to a misfortune which + affects us both alike. You are the less to be pitied. Have you not, as it + is, found consolations which duty and the honor of both, and (stronger + still) which Nature forbids to me? Stay,” she added, “you carelessly left + three letters from Mme. de Sérizy in a drawer; here they are. My silence + about this matter should make it plain to you that in me you have a wife + who has plenty of indulgence and does not exact from you the sacrifices + prescribed by the law. But I have thought enough to see that the roles of + husband and wife are quite different, and that the wife alone is + predestined to misfortune. My virtue is based upon firmly fixed and + definite principles. I shall live blamelessly, but let me live.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis was taken aback by a logic which women grasp with the clear + insight of love, and overawed by a certain dignity natural to them at such + crises. Julie’s instinctive repugnance for all that jarred upon her love + and the instincts of her heart is one of the fairest qualities of woman, + and springs perhaps from a natural virtue which neither laws nor + civilization can silence. And who shall dare to blame women? If a woman + can silence the exclusive sentiment which bids her “forsake all other” for + the man whom she loves, what is she but a priest who has lost his faith? + If a rigid mind here and there condemns Julie for a sort of compromise + between love and wifely duty, impassioned souls will lay it to her charge + as a crime. To be thus blamed by both sides shows one of two things very + clearly—that misery necessarily follows in the train of broken laws, + or else that there are deplorable flaws in the institutions upon which + society in Europe is based. + </p> + <p> + Two years went by. M. and Mme. d’Aiglemont went their separate ways, + leading their life in the world, meeting each other more frequently abroad + than at home, a refinement upon divorce, in which many a marriage in the + great world is apt to end. + </p> + <p> + One evening, strange to say, found husband and wife in their own + drawing-room. Mme. d’Aiglemont had been dining at home with a friend, and + the General, who almost invariably dined in town, had not gone out for + once. + </p> + <p> + “There is a pleasant time in store for you, <i>Madame la Marquise</i>,” + said M. d’Aiglemont, setting his coffee cup down upon the table. He looked + at the guest, Mme. de Wimphen, and half-pettishly, half-mischievously + added, “I am starting off for several days’ sport with the Master of the + Hounds. For a whole week, at any rate, you will be a widow in good + earnest; just what you wish for, I suppose.—Guillaume,” he said to + the servant who entered, “tell them to put the horses in.” + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Wimphen was the friend to whom Julie had begun the letter upon her + marriage. The glances exchanged by the two women said plainly that in her + Julie had found an intimate friend, an indulgent and invaluable + confidante. Mme. de Wimphen’s marriage had been a very happy one. Perhaps + it was her own happiness which secured her devotion to Julie’s unhappy + life, for under such circumstances, dissimilarity of destiny is nearly + always a strong bond of union. + </p> + <p> + “Is the hunting season not over yet?” asked Julie, with an indifferent + glance at her husband. + </p> + <p> + “The Master of the Hounds comes when and where he pleases, madame. We are + going boar-hunting in the Royal Forest.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care that no accident happens to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Accidents are usually unforeseen,” he said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “The carriage is ready, my Lord Marquis,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, if I should fall a victim to the boar—” he continued, with + a suppliant air. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” inquired Mme. de Wimphen. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Mme. d’Aiglemont, turning to her husband; smiling at + her friend as if to say, “You will soon see.” + </p> + <p> + Julie held up her head; but as her husband came close to her, she swerved + at the last, so that his kiss fell not on her throat, but on the broad + frill about it. + </p> + <p> + “You will be my witness before heaven now that I need a firman to obtain + this little grace of her,” said the Marquis, addressing Mme. de Wimphen. + “This is how this wife of mine understands love. She has brought me to + this pass, by what trickery I am at a loss to know.... A pleasant time to + you!” and he went. + </p> + <p> + “But your poor husband is really very good-natured,” cried Louisa de + Wimphen, when the two women were alone together. “He loves you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! not another syllable after that last word. The name I bear makes me + shudder——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but Victor obeys you implicitly,” said Louisa. + </p> + <p> + “His obedience is founded in part upon the great esteem which I have + inspired in him. As far as outward things go, I am a model wife. I make + his house pleasant to him; I shut my eyes to his intrigues; I touch not a + penny of his fortune. He is free to squander the interest exactly as he + pleases; I only stipulate that he shall not touch the principal. At this + price I have peace. He neither explains nor attempts to explain my life. + But though my husband is guided by me, that does not say that I have + nothing to fear from his character. I am a bear leader who daily trembles + lest the muzzle should give way at last. If Victor once took it into his + head that I had forfeited my right to his esteem, what would happen next I + dare not think; for he is violent, full of personal pride, and vain above + all things. While his wits are not keen enough to enable him to behave + discreetly at a delicate crisis when his lowest passions are involved, his + character is weak, and he would very likely kill me provisionally even if + he died of remorse next day. But there is no fear of that fatal good + fortune.” + </p> + <p> + A brief pause followed. Both women were thinking of the real cause of this + state of affairs. Julie gave Louisa a glance which revealed her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “I have been cruelly obeyed,” she cried. “Yet I never forbade him to write + to me. Oh! <i>he</i> has forgotten me, and he is right. If his life had + been spoiled, it would have been too tragical; one life is enough, is it + not? Would you believe it, dear; I read English newspapers simply to see + his name in print. But he has not yet taken his seat in the House of + Lords.” + </p> + <p> + “So you know English.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not tell you?—Yes, I learned.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor little one!” cried Louisa, grasping Julie’s hand in hers. “How can + you still live?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the secret,” said the Marquise, with an involuntary gesture + almost childlike in its simplicity. “Listen, I take laudanum. That duchess + in London suggested the idea; you know the story, Maturin made use of it + in one of his novels. My drops are very weak, but I sleep; I am only awake + for seven hours in the day, and those hours I spend with my child.” + </p> + <p> + Louisa gazed into the fire. The full extent of her friend’s misery was + opening out before her for the first time, and she dared not look into her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Keep my secret, Louisa,” said Julie, after a moment’s silence. + </p> + <p> + Just as she spoke the footman brought in a letter for the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried, and her face grew white. + </p> + <p> + “I need not ask from whom it comes,” said Mme. de Wimphen, but the + Marquise was reading the letter, and heeded nothing else. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Wimphen, watching her friend, saw strong feeling wrought to the + highest pitch, ecstasy of the most dangerous kind painted on Julie’s face + in swift changing white and red. At length Julie flung the sheet into the + fire. + </p> + <p> + “It burns like fire,” she said. “Oh! my heart beats till I cannot + breathe.” + </p> + <p> + She rose to her feet and walked up and down. Her eyes were blazing. + </p> + <p> + “He did not leave Paris!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Wimphen did not dare to interrupt the words that followed, + jerked-out sentences, measured by dreadful pauses in between. After every + break the deep notes of her voice sank lower and lower. There was + something awful about the last words. + </p> + <p> + “He has seen me, constantly, and I have not known it.—A look, taken + by stealth, every day, helps him to live.—Louisa, you do not know!—He + is dying.—He wants to say good-bye to me. He knows that my husband + has gone away for several days. He will be here in a moment. Oh! I shall + die: I am lost.—Listen, Louisa, stay with me!—<i>I am afraid!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “But my husband knows that I have been dining with you; he is sure to come + for me,” said Mme. de Wimphen. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, before you go I will send <i>him</i> away. I will play the + executioner for us both. Oh me! he will think that I do not love him any + more—And that letter of his! Dear, I can see those words in letters + of fire.” + </p> + <p> + A carriage rolled in under the archway. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the Marquise, with something like joy in her voice, “he is + coming openly. He makes no mystery of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Grenville,” announced the servant. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise stood up rigid and motionless; but at the sight of Arthur’s + white face, so thin and haggard, how was it possible to keep up the show + of severity? Lord Grenville saw that Julie was not alone, but he + controlled his fierce annoyance, and looked cool and unperturbed. Yet for + the two women who knew his secret, his face, his tones, the look in his + eyes had something of the power attributed to the torpedo. Their faculties + were benumbed by the sharp shock of contact with his horrible pain. The + sound of his voice set Julie’s heart beating so cruelly that she could not + trust herself to speak; she was afraid that he would see the full extent + of his power over her. Lord Grenville did not dare to look at Julie, and + Mme. de Wimphen was left to sustain a conversation to which no one + listened. Julie glanced at her friend with touching gratefulness in her + eyes to thank her for coming to her aid. + </p> + <p> + By this time the lovers had quelled emotion into silence, and could + preserve the limits laid down by duty and convention. But M. de Wimphen + was announced, and as he came in the two friends exchanged glances. Both + felt the difficulties of this fresh complication. It was impossible to + enter into explanations with M. de Wimphen, and Louisa could not think of + any sufficient pretext for asking to be left. + </p> + <p> + Julie went to her, ostensibly to wrap her up in her shawl. “I will be + brave,” she said, in a low voice. “He came here in the face of all the + world, so what have I to fear? Yet but for you, in that first moment, when + I saw how changed he looked, I should have fallen at his feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Arthur, you have broken your promise to me,” she said, in a + faltering voice, when she returned. Lord Grenville did not venture to take + the seat upon the sofa by her side. + </p> + <p> + “I could not resist the pleasure of hearing your voice, of being near you. + The thought of it came to be a sort of madness, a delirious frenzy. I am + no longer master of myself. I have taken myself to task; it is no use, I + am too weak, I ought to die. But to die without seeing you, without having + heard the rustle of your dress, or felt your tears. What a death!” + </p> + <p> + He moved further away from her; but in his hasty uprising a pistol fell + out of his pocket. The Marquise looked down blankly at the weapon; all + passion, all expression had died out of her eyes. Lord Grenville stooped + for the thing, raging inwardly over an accident which seemed like a piece + of lovesick strategy. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Arthur!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, looking down, “I came here in utter desperation; I + meant——” he broke off. + </p> + <p> + “You meant to die by your own hand here in my house!” + </p> + <p> + “Not alone!” he said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Not alone! My husband, perhaps——?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he cried in a choking voice. “Reassure yourself,” he continued, + “I have quite given up my deadly purpose. As soon as I came in, as soon as + I saw you, I felt that I was strong enough to suffer in silence, and to + die alone.” + </p> + <p> + Julie sprang up, and flung herself into his arms. Through her sobbing he + caught a few passionate words, “To know happiness, and then to die.—Yes, + let it be so.” + </p> + <p> + All Julie’s story was summed up in that cry from the depths; it was the + summons of nature and of love at which women without a religion surrender. + With the fierce energy of unhoped-for joy, Arthur caught her up and + carried her to the sofa; but in a moment she tore herself from her lover’s + arms, looked at him with a fixed despairing gaze, took his hand, snatched + up a candle, and drew him into her room. When they stood by the cot where + Hélène lay sleeping, she put the curtains softly aside, shading the candle + with her hand, lest the light should dazzle the half-closed eyes beneath + the transparent lids. Hélène lay smiling in her sleep, with her arms + outstretched on the coverlet. Julie glanced from her child to Arthur’s + face. That look told him all. + </p> + <p> + “We may leave a husband, even though he loves us: a man is strong; he has + consolations.—We may defy the world and its laws. But a motherless + child!”—all these thoughts, and a thousand others more moving still, + found language in that glance. + </p> + <p> + “We can take her with us,” muttered he; “I will love her dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” cried little Hélène, now awake. Julie burst into tears. Lord + Grenville sat down and folded his arms in gloomy silence. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” At the sweet childish name, so many nobler feelings, so many + irresistible yearnings awoke, that for a moment love was effaced by the + all-powerful instinct of motherhood; the mother triumphed over the woman + in Julie, and Lord Grenville could not hold out, he was defeated by + Julie’s tears. + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment a door was flung noisily open. “Madame d’Aiglemont, + are you hereabouts?” called a voice which rang like a crack of thunder + through the hearts of the two lovers. The Marquis had come home. + </p> + <p> + Before Julie could recover her presence of mind, her husband was on the + way to the door of her room which opened into his. Luckily, at a sign, + Lord Grenville escaped into the dressing-closet, and she hastily shut the + door upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lady, here am I,” said Victor, “the hunting party did not come + off. I am just going to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, so am I. So go and leave me to undress.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very cross to-night, Madame la Marquise.” + </p> + <p> + The General returned to his room, Julie went with him to the door and shut + it. Then she sprang to the dressing-close to release Arthur. All her + presence of mind returned; she bethought herself that it was quite natural + that her sometime doctor should pay her a visit; she might have left him + in the drawing-room while she put her little girl to bed. She was about to + tell him, under her breath, to go back to the drawing-room, and had opened + the door. Then she shrieked aloud. Lord Grenville’s fingers had been + caught and crushed in the door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” demanded her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! nothing, I have just pricked my finger with a pin.” + </p> + <p> + The General’s door opened at once. Julie imagined that the irruption was + due to a sudden concern for her, and cursed a solicitude in which love had + no part. She had barely time to close the dressing-closet, and Lord + Grenville had not extricated his hand. The General did, in fact, appear, + but his wife had mistaken his motives; his apprehensions were entirely on + his own account. + </p> + <p> + “Can you lend me a bandana handkerchief? The stupid fool Charles leaves me + without a single one. In the early days you used to bother me with looking + after me so carefully. Ah, well, the honeymoon did not last very long for + me, nor yet for my cravats. Nowadays I am given over to the secular arm, + in the shape of servants who do not care one jack straw for what I say.” + </p> + <p> + “There! There is a bandana for you. Did you go into the drawing-room?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you might perhaps have been in time to see Lord Grenville.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I will go at once. The good doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “But he will have gone by now!” exclaimed Julie. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis, standing in the middle of the room, was tying the + handkerchief over his head. He looked complacently at himself in the + glass. + </p> + <p> + “What has become of the servants is more than I know,” he remarked. “I + have rung the bell for Charles, and he has not answered it. And your maid + is not here either. Ring for her. I should like another blanket on my bed + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Pauline is out,” the Marquise said drily. + </p> + <p> + “What, at midnight!” exclaimed the General. + </p> + <p> + “I gave her leave to go to the Opéra.” + </p> + <p> + “That is funny!” returned her husband, continuing to undress. “I thought I + saw her coming upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “She has come in then, of course,” said Julie, with assumed impatience, + and to allay any possible suspicion on her husband’s part she pretended to + ring the bell. + </p> + <p> + The whole history of that night has never been known, but no doubt it was + as simple and as tragically commonplace as the domestic incidents that + preceded it. + </p> + <p> + Next day the Marquise d’Aiglemont took to her bed, nor did she leave it + for some days. + </p> + <p> + “What can have happened in your family so extraordinary that every one is + talking about your wife?” asked M. de Ronquerolles of M. d’Aiglemont a + short time after that night of catastrophes. + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice and remain a bachelor,” said d’Aiglemont. “The curtains of + Hélène’s cot caught fire, and gave my wife such a shock that it will be a + twelvemonth before she gets over it; so the doctor says. You marry a + pretty wife, and her looks fall off; you marry a girl in blooming health, + and she turns into an invalid. You think she has a passionate temperament, + and find her cold, or else under her apparent coldness there lurks a + nature so passionate that she is the death of you, or she dishonors your + name. Sometimes the meekest of them will turn out crotchety, though the + crotchety ones never grow any sweeter. Sometimes the mere child, so simple + and silly at first, will develop an iron will to thwart you and the + ingenuity of a fiend. I am tired of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Or of your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be difficult. By-the-by, do you feel inclined to go to + Saint-Thomas d’Aquin with me to attend Lord Grenville’s funeral?” + </p> + <p> + “A singular way of spending time.—Is it really known how he came by + his death?” added Ronquerolles. + </p> + <p> + “His man says that he spent a whole night sitting on somebody’s window + sill to save some woman’s character, and it has been infernally cold + lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Such devotion would be highly creditable to one of us old stagers; but + Lord Grenville was a youngster and—an Englishman. Englishmen never + can do anything like anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” returned d’Aiglemont, “these heroic exploits all depend upon the + woman in the case, and it certainly was not for one that I know, that poor + Arthur came by his death.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + II. A HIDDEN GRIEF + </h2> + <p> + Between the Seine and the little river Loing lies a wide flat country, + skirted on the one side by the Forest of Fontainebleau, and marked out as + to its southern limits by the towns of Moret, Montereau, and Nemours. It + is a dreary country; little knolls of hills appear only at rare intervals, + and a coppice here and there among the fields affords for game; and + beyond, upon every side, stretches the endless gray or yellowish horizon + peculiar to Beauce, Sologne, and Berri. + </p> + <p> + In the very centre of the plain, at equal distances from Moret and + Montereau, the traveler passes the old chateau of Saint-Lange, standing + amid surroundings which lack neither dignity nor stateliness. There are + magnificent avenues of elm-trees, great gardens encircled by the moat, and + a circumference of walls about a huge manorial pile which represents the + profits of the <i>maltôte</i>, the gains of farmers-general, legalized + malversation, or the vast fortunes of great houses now brought low beneath + the hammer of the Civil Code. + </p> + <p> + Should any artist or dreamer of dreams chance to stray along the roads + full of deep ruts, or over the heavy land which secures the place against + intrusion, he will wonder how it happened that this romantic old place was + set down in a savanna of corn-land, a desert of chalk, and sand, and marl, + where gaiety dies away, and melancholy is a natural product of the soil. + The voiceless solitude, the monotonous horizon line which weigh upon the + spirits are negative beauties, which only suit with sorrow that refuses to + be comforted. + </p> + <p> + Hither, at the close of the year 1820, came a woman, still young, well + known in Paris for her charm, her fair face, and her wit; and to the + immense astonishment of the little village a mile away, this woman of high + rank and corresponding fortune took up her abode at Saint-Lange. + </p> + <p> + From time immemorial, farmers and laborers had seen no gentry at the + chateau. The estate, considerable though it was, had been left in charge + of a land-steward and the house to the old servants. Wherefore the + appearance of the lady of the manor caused a kind of sensation in the + district. + </p> + <p> + A group had gathered in the yard of the wretched little wineshop at the + end of the village (where the road forks to Nemours and Moret) to see the + carriage pass. It went by slowly, for the Marquise had come from Paris + with her own horses, and those on the lookout had ample opportunity of + observing a waiting-maid, who sat with her back to the horses holding a + little girl, with a somewhat dreamy look, upon her knee. The child’s + mother lay back in the carriage; she looked like a dying woman sent out + into the country air by her doctors as a last resource. Village + politicians were by no means pleased to see the young, delicate, downcast + face; they had hoped that the new arrival at Saint-Lange would bring some + life and stir into the neighborhood, and clearly any sort of stir or + movement must be distasteful to the suffering invalid in the traveling + carriage. + </p> + <p> + That evening, when the notables of Saint-Lange were drinking in the + private room of the wineshop, the longest head among them declared that + such depression could admit of but one construction—the Marquise was + ruined. His lordship the Marquis was away in Spain with the Duc + d’Angoulême (so they said in the papers), and beyond a doubt her ladyship + had come to Saint-Lange to retrench after a run of ill-luck on the Bourse. + The Marquis was one of the greatest gamblers on the face of the globe. + Perhaps the estate would be cut up and sold in little lots. There would be + some good strokes of business to be made in that case, and it behooved + everybody to count up his cash, unearth his savings and to see how he + stood, so as to secure his share of the spoil of Saint-Lange. + </p> + <p> + So fair did this future seem, that the village worthies, dying to know + whether it was founded on fact, began to think of ways of getting at the + truth through the servants at the chateau. None of these, however, could + throw any light on the calamity which had brought their mistress into the + country at the beginning of winter, and to the old chateau of Saint-Lange + of all places, when she might have taken her choice of cheerful + country-houses famous for their beautiful gardens. + </p> + <p> + His worship the mayor called to pay his respects; but he did not see the + lady. Then the land-steward tried with no better success. + </p> + <p> + Madame la Marquise kept her room, only leaving it, while it was set in + order, for the small adjoining drawing-room, where she dined; if, indeed, + to sit down to a table, to look with disgust at the dishes, and take the + precise amount of nourishment required to prevent death from sheer + starvation, can be called dining. The meal over, she returned at once to + the old-fashioned low chair, in which she had sat since the morning, in + the embrasure of the one window that lighted her room. + </p> + <p> + Her little girl she only saw for a few minutes daily, during the dismal + dinner, and even for a short time she seemed scarcely able to bear the + child’s presence. Surely nothing but the most unheard-of anguish could + have extinguished a mother’s love so early. + </p> + <p> + None of the servants were suffered to come near, her own woman was the one + creature whom she liked to have about her; the chateau must be perfectly + quiet, the child must play at the other end of the house. The slightest + sound had grown so intolerable, that any human voice, even the voice of + her own child, jarred upon her. + </p> + <p> + At first the whole countryside was deeply interested in these + eccentricities; but time passed on, every possible hypothesis had been + advanced to account for them and the peasants and dwellers in the little + country towns thought no more of the invalid lady. + </p> + <p> + So the Marquise was left to herself. She might live on, perfectly silent, + amid the silence which she herself had created; there was nothing to draw + her forth from the tapestried chamber where her grandmother died, whither + she herself had come that she might die, gently, without witnesses, + without importunate solicitude, without suffering from the insincere + demonstrations of egoism masquerading as affection, which double the agony + of death in great cities. + </p> + <p> + She was twenty-six years old. At that age, with plenty of romantic + illusions still left, the mind loves to dwell on the thought of death when + death seems to come as a friend. But with youth, death is coy, coming up + close only to go away, showing himself and hiding again, till youth has + time to fall out of love with him during this dalliance. There is that + uncertainty too that hangs over death’s to-morrow. Youth plunges back into + the world of living men, there to find the pain more pitiless than death, + that does not wait to strike. + </p> + <p> + This woman who refused to live was to know the bitterness of these + reprieves in the depths of her loneliness; in moral agony, which death + would not come to end, she was to serve a terrible apprenticeship to the + egoism which must take the bloom from her heart and break her in to the + life of the world. + </p> + <p> + This harsh and sorry teaching is the usual outcome of our early sorrows. + For the first, and perhaps for the last time in her life, the Marquise + d’Aiglemont was in very truth suffering. And, indeed, would it not be an + error to suppose that the same sentiment can be reproduced in us? Once + develop the power to feel, is it not always there in the depths of our + nature? The accidents of life may lull or awaken it, but there it is, of + necessity modifying the self, its abiding place. Hence, every sensation + should have its great day once and for all, its first day of storm, be it + long or short. Hence, likewise, pain, the most abiding of our sensations, + could be keenly felt only at its first irruption, its intensity + diminishing with every subsequent paroxysm, either because we grow + accustomed to these crises, or perhaps because a natural instinct of + self-preservation asserts itself, and opposes to the destroying force of + anguish an equal but passive force of inertia. + </p> + <p> + Yet of all kinds of suffering, to which does the name of anguish belong? + For the loss of parents, Nature has in a manner prepared us; physical + suffering, again, is an evil which passes over us and is gone; it lays no + hold upon the soul; if it persists, it ceases to be an evil, it is death. + The young mother loses her firstborn, but wedded love ere long gives her a + successor. This grief, too, is transient. After all, these, and many other + troubles like unto them, are in some sort wounds and bruises; they do not + sap the springs of vitality, and only a succession of such blows can crush + in us the instinct that seeks happiness. Great pain, therefore, pain that + arises to anguish, should be suffering so deadly, that past, present, and + future are alike included in its grip, and no part of life is left sound + and whole. Never afterwards can we think the same thoughts as before. + Anguish engraves itself in ineffaceable characters on mouth and brow; it + passes through us, destroying or relaxing the springs that vibrate to + enjoyment, leaving behind in the soul the seeds of a disgust for all + things in this world. + </p> + <p> + Yet, again, to be measureless, to weigh like this upon body and soul, the + trouble should befall when soul and body have just come to their full + strength, and smite down a heart that beats high with life. Then it is + that great scars are made. Terrible is the anguish. None, it may be, can + issue from this soul-sickness without undergoing some dramatic change. + Those who survive it, those who remain on earth, return to the world to + wear an actor’s countenance and to play an actor’s part. They know the + side-scenes where actors may retire to calculate chances, shed their + tears, or pass their jests. Life holds no inscrutable dark places for + those who have passed through this ordeal; their judgments are + Rhadamanthine. + </p> + <p> + For young women of the Marquise d’Aiglemont’s age, this first, this most + poignant pain of all, is always referable to the same cause. A woman, + especially if she is a young woman, greatly beautiful, and by nature + great, never fails to stake her whole life as instinct and sentiment and + society all unite to bid her. Suppose that that life fails her, suppose + that she still lives on, she cannot but endure the most cruel pangs, + inasmuch as a first love is the loveliest of all. How comes it that this + catastrophe has found no painter, no poet? And yet, can it be painted? Can + it be sung? No; for the anguish arising from it eludes analysis and defies + the colors of art. And more than this, such pain is never confessed. To + console the sufferer, you must be able to divine the past which she hugs + in bitterness to her soul like a remorse; it is like an avalanche in a + valley; it laid all waste before it found a permanent resting-place. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise was suffering from this anguish, which will for long remain + unknown, because the whole world condemns it, while sentiment cherishes + it, and the conscience of a true woman justifies her in it. It is with + such pain as with children steadily disowned of life, and therefore bound + more closely to the mother’s heart than other children more bounteously + endowed. Never, perhaps, was the awful catastrophe in which the whole + world without dies for us, so deadly, so complete, so cruelly aggravated + by circumstance as it had been for the Marquise. The man whom she had + loved was young and generous; in obedience to the laws of the world, she + had refused herself to his love, and he had died to save a woman’s honor, + as the world calls it. To whom could she speak of her misery? Her tears + would be an offence against her husband, the origin of the tragedy. By all + laws written and unwritten she was bound over to silence. A woman would + have enjoyed the story; a man would have schemed for his own benefit. No; + such grief as hers can only weep freely in solitude and in loneliness; she + must consume her pain or be consumed by it; die or kill something within + her—her conscience, it may be. + </p> + <p> + Day after day she sat gazing at the flat horizon. It lay out before her + like her own life to come. There was nothing to discover, nothing to hope. + The whole of it could be seen at a glance. It was the visible presentment + in the outward world of the chill sense of desolation which was gnawing + restlessly at her heart. The misty mornings, the pale, bright sky, the low + clouds scudding under the gray dome of heaven, fitted with the moods of + her soul-sickness. Her heart did not contract, was neither more nor less + seared, rather it seemed as if her youth, in its full blossom, was slowly + turned to stone by an anguish intolerable because it was barren. She + suffered through herself and for herself. How could it end save in + self-absorption? Ugly torturing thoughts probed her conscience. Candid + self-examination pronounced that she was double, there were two selves + within her; a woman who felt and a woman who thought; a self that suffered + and a self that could fain suffer no longer. Her mind traveled back to the + joys of childish days; they had gone by, and she had never known how happy + they were. Scenes crowded up in her memory as in a bright mirror glass, to + demonstrate the deception of a marriage which, all that it should be in + the eyes of the world, was in reality wretched. What had the delicate + pride of young womanhood done for her—the bliss foregone, the + sacrifices made to the world? Everything in her expressed love, awaited + love; her movements still were full of perfect grace; her smile, her + charm, were hers as before; why? she asked herself. The sense of her own + youth and physical loveliness no more affected her than some meaningless + reiterated sound. Her very beauty had grown intolerable to her as a + useless thing. She shrank aghast from the thought that through the rest of + life she must remain an incomplete creature; had not the inner self lost + its power of receiving impressions with that zest, that exquisite sense of + freshness which is the spring of so much of life’s gladness? The + impressions of the future would for the most part be effaced as soon as + received, and many of the thoughts which once would have moved her now + would move her no more. + </p> + <p> + After the childhood of the creature dawns the childhood of the heart; but + this second infancy was over, her lover had taken it down with him into + the grave. The longings of youth remained; she was young yet; but the + completeness of youth was gone, and with that lost completeness the whole + value and savor of life had diminished somewhat. Should she not always + bear within her the seeds of sadness and mistrust, ready to grow up and + rob emotion of its springtide of fervor? Conscious she must always be that + nothing could give her now the happiness so longed for, that seemed so + fair in her dreams. The fire from heaven that sheds abroad its light in + the heart, in the dawn of love, had been quenched in tears, the first real + tears which she had shed; henceforth she must always suffer, because it + was no longer in her power to be what once she might have been. This is a + belief which turns us in aversion and bitterness of spirit from any + proffered new delight. + </p> + <p> + Julie had come to look at life from the point of view of age about to die. + Young though she felt, the heavy weight of joyless days had fallen upon + her, and left her broken-spirited and old before her time. With a + despairing cry, she asked the world what it could give her in exchange for + the love now lost, by which she had lived. She asked herself whether in + that vanished love, so chaste and pure, her will had not been more + criminal than her deeds, and chose to believe herself guilty; partly to + affront the world, partly for her own consolation, in that she had missed + the close union of body and soul, which diminishes the pain of the one who + is left behind by the knowledge that once it has known and given joy to + the full, and retains within itself the impress of that which is no more. + </p> + <p> + Something of the mortification of the actress cheated of her part mingled + with the pain which thrilled through every fibre of her heart and brain. + Her nature had been thwarted, her vanity wounded, her woman’s generosity + cheated of self-sacrifice. Then, when she had raised all these questions, + set vibrating all the springs in those different phases of being which we + distinguish as social, moral, and physical, her energies were so far + exhausted and relaxed that she was powerless to grasp a single thought + amid the chase of conflicting ideas. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes as the mists fell, she would throw her window open, and would + stay there, motionless, breathing in unheedingly the damp earthly scent in + the air, her mind to all appearance an unintelligent blank, for the + ceaseless burden of sorrow humming in her brain left her deaf to earth’s + harmonies and insensible to the delights of thought. + </p> + <p> + One day, towards noon, when the sun shone out for a little, her maid came + in without a summons. + </p> + <p> + “This is the fourth time that M. le Curé has come to see Mme. la Marquise; + to-day he is so determined about it, that we did not know what to tell + him.” + </p> + <p> + “He has come to ask for some money for the poor, no doubt; take him + twenty-five louis from me.” + </p> + <p> + The woman went only to return. + </p> + <p> + “M. le Cure will not take the money, my lady; he wants to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let him come!” said Mme. d’Aiglemont, with an involuntary shrug + which augured ill for the priest’s reception. Evidently the lady meant to + put a stop to persecution by a short and sharp method. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont had lost her mother in her early childhood; and as a + natural consequence in her bringing-up, she had felt the influence of the + relaxed notions which loosened the hold of religion upon France during the + Revolution. Piety is a womanly virtue which women alone can really instil; + and the Marquise, a child of the eighteenth century, had adopted her + father’s creed of philosophism, and practised no religious observances. A + priest, to her way of thinking, was a civil servant of very doubtful + utility. In her present position, the teaching of religion could only + poison her wounds; she had, moreover, but scanty faith in the lights of + country cures, and made up her mind to put this one gently but firmly in + his place, and to rid herself of him, after the manner of the rich, by + bestowing a benefit. + </p> + <p> + At first sight of the curé the Marquise felt no inclination to change her + mind. She saw before her a stout, rotund little man, with a ruddy, + wrinkled, elderly face, which awkwardly and unsuccessfully tried to smile. + His bald, quadrant-shaped forehead, furrowed by intersecting lines, was + too heavy for the rest of his face, which seemed to be dwarfed by it. A + fringe of scanty white hair encircled the back of his head, and almost + reached his ears. Yet the priest looked as if by nature he had a genial + disposition; his thick lips, his slightly curved nose, his chin, which + vanished in a double fold of wrinkles,—all marked him out as a man + who took cheerful views of life. + </p> + <p> + At first the Marquise saw nothing but these salient characteristics, but + at the first word she was struck by the sweetness of the speaker’s voice. + Looking at him more closely, she saw that the eyes under the grizzled + eyebrows had shed tears, and his face, turned in profile, wore so sublime + an impress of sorrow, that the Marquise recognized the man in the curé. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Marquise, the rich only come within our province when they are + in trouble. It is easy to see that the troubles of a young, beautiful, and + wealthy woman, who has lost neither children nor relatives, are caused by + wounds whose pangs religion alone can soothe. Your soul is in danger, + madame. I am not speaking now of the hereafter which awaits us. No, I am + not in the confessional. But it is my duty, is it not, to open your eyes + to your future life here on earth? You will pardon an old man, will you + not, for importunity which has your own happiness for its object?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no more happiness for me, monsieur. I shall soon be, as you say, + in your province; but it will be for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, madame. You will not die of this pain which lies heavy upon you, and + can be read in your face. If you had been destined to die of it, you would + not be here at Saint-Lange. A definite regret is not so deadly as hope + deferred. I have known others pass through more intolerable and more awful + anguish, and yet they live.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise looked incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I know a man whose affliction was so sore that your trouble would + seem to you to be light compared with his.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the long solitary hours had begun to hang heavily; perhaps in the + recesses of the Marquise’s mind lay the thought that here was a friendly + heart to whom she might be able to pour out her troubles. However, it was, + she gave the cure a questioning glance which could not be mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he continued, “the man of whom I tell you had but three children + left of a once large family circle. He lost his parents, his daughter, and + his wife, whom he dearly loved. He was left alone at last on the little + farm where he had lived so happily for so long. His three sons were in the + army, and each of the lads had risen in proportion to his time of service. + During the Hundred Days, the oldest went into the Guard with a colonel’s + commission; the second was a major in the artillery; the youngest a major + in a regiment of dragoons. Madame, those three boys loved their father as + much as he loved them. If you but knew how careless young fellows grow of + home ties when they are carried away by the current of their own lives, + you would realize from this one little thing how warmly they loved the + lonely old father, who only lived in and for them—never a week + passed without a letter from one of the boys. But then he on his side had + never been weakly indulgent, to lessen their respect for him; nor unjustly + severe, to thwart their affection; or apt to grudge sacrifices, the thing + that estranges children’s hearts. He had been more than a father; he had + been a brother to them, and their friend. + </p> + <p> + “At last he went to Paris to bid them good-bye before they set out for + Belgium; he wished to see that they had good horses and all that they + needed. And so they went, and the father returned to his home again. Then + the war began. He had letters from Fleurus, and again from Ligny. All went + well. Then came the battle of Waterloo, and you know the rest. France was + plunged into mourning; every family waited in intense anxiety for news. + You may imagine, madame, how the old man waited for tidings, in anxiety + that knew no peace nor rest. He used to read the gazettes; he went to the + coach office every day. One evening he was told that the colonel’s servant + had come. The man was riding his master’s horse—what need was there + to ask any questions?—the colonel was dead, cut in two by a shell. + Before the evening was out the youngest son’s servant arrived—the + youngest had died on the eve of the battle. At midnight came a gunner with + tidings of the death of the last; upon whom, in those few hours, the poor + father had centered all his life. Madame, they all had fallen.” + </p> + <p> + After a pause the good man controlled his feelings, and added gently: + </p> + <p> + “And their father is still living, madame. He realized that if God had + left him on earth, he was bound to live on and suffer on earth; but he + took refuge in the sanctuary. What could he be?” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise looked up and saw the curé’s face, grown sublime in its + sorrow and resignation, and waited for him to speak. When the words came, + tears broke from her. + </p> + <p> + “A priest, madame; consecrated by his own tears previously shed at the + foot of the altar.” + </p> + <p> + Silence prevailed for a little. The Marquise and the curé looked out at + the foggy landscape, as if they could see the figures of those who were no + more. + </p> + <p> + “Not a priest in a city, but a simple country curé,” added he. + </p> + <p> + “At Saint-Lange,” she said, drying her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Never had the majesty of grief seemed so great to Julie. The two words + sank straight into her heart with the weight of infinite sorrow. The + gentle, sonorous tones troubled her heart. Ah! that full, deep voice, + charged with plangent vibration, was the voice of one who had suffered + indeed. + </p> + <p> + “And if I do not die, monsieur, what will become of me?” The Marquise + spoke almost reverently. + </p> + <p> + “Have you not a child, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said stiffly. + </p> + <p> + The curé gave her such a glance as a doctor gives a patient whose life is + in danger. Then he determined to do all that in him lay to combat the evil + spirit into whose clutches she had fallen. + </p> + <p> + “We must live on with our sorrows—you see it yourself, madame, and + religion alone offers us real consolation. Will you permit me to come + again?—to speak to you as a man who can sympathize with every + trouble, a man about whom there is nothing very alarming, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur, come back again. Thank you for your thought of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, madame; then I shall return very shortly.” + </p> + <p> + This visit relaxed the tension of soul, as it were; the heavy strain of + grief and loneliness had been almost too much for the Marquise’s strength. + The priest’s visit had left a soothing balm in her heart, his words + thrilled through her with healing influence. She began to feel something + of a prisoner’s satisfaction, when, after he has had time to feel his + utter loneliness and the weight of his chains, he hears a neighbor + knocking on the wall, and welcomes the sound which brings a sense of human + friendship. Here was an unhoped-for confidant. But this feeling did not + last for long. Soon she sank back into the old bitterness of spirit, + saying to herself, as the prisoner might say, that a companion in + misfortune could neither lighten her own bondage nor her future. + </p> + <p> + In the first visit the curé had feared to alarm the susceptibilities of + self-absorbed grief, in a second interview he hoped to make some progress + towards religion. He came back again two days later, and from the + Marquise’s welcome it was plain that she had looked forward to the visit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mme. la Marquise, have you given a little thought to the great mass + of human suffering? Have you raised your eyes above our earth and seen the + immensity of the universe?—the worlds beyond worlds which crush our + vanity into insignificance, and with our vanity reduce our sorrows?” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur,” she said; “I cannot rise to such heights, our social laws + lie too heavily upon me, and rend my heart with a too poignant anguish. + And laws perhaps are less cruel than the usages of the world. Ah! the + world!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, we must obey both. Law is the doctrine, and custom the practice + of society.” + </p> + <p> + “Obey society?” cried the Marquise, with an involuntary shudder. “Eh! + monsieur, it is the source of all our woes. God laid down no law to make + us miserable; but mankind, uniting together in social life, have perverted + God’s work. Civilization deals harder measure to us women than nature + does. Nature imposes upon us physical suffering which you have not + alleviated; civilization has developed in us thoughts and feelings which + you cheat continually. Nature exterminates the weak; you condemn them to + live, and by so doing, consign them to a life of misery. The whole weight + of the burden of marriage, an institution on which society is based, falls + upon us; for the man liberty, duties for the woman. We must give up our + whole lives to you, you are only bound to give us a few moments of yours. + A man, in fact, makes a choice, while we blindly submit. Oh, monsieur, to + you I can speak freely. Marriage, in these days, seems to me to be + legalized prostitution. This is the cause of my wretchedness. But among so + many miserable creatures so unhappily yoked, I alone am bound to be + silent, I alone am to blame for my misery. My marriage was my own doing.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short, and bitter tears fell in the silence. + </p> + <p> + “In the depths of my wretchedness, in the midst of this sea of distress,” + she went on, “I found some sands on which to set foot and suffer at + leisure. A great tempest swept everything away. And here am I, helpless + and alone, too weak to cope with storms.” + </p> + <p> + “We are never weak while God is with us,” said the priest. “And if your + cravings for affection cannot be satisfied here on earth, have you no + duties to perform?” + </p> + <p> + “Duties continually!” she exclaimed, with something of impatience in her + tone. “But where for me are the sentiments which give us strength to + perform them? Nothing from nothing, nothing for nothing,—this, + monsieur, is one of the most inexorable laws of nature, physical or + spiritual. Would you have these trees break into leaf without the sap + which swells the buds? It is the same with our human nature; and in me the + sap is dried up at its source.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to speak to you of religious sentiments of which + resignation is born,” said the curé, “but of motherhood, madame, surely—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, monsieur!” said the Marquise, “with you I will be sincere. Alas! in + future I can be sincere with no one; I am condemned to falsehood. The + world requires continual grimaces, and we are bidden to obey its + conventions if we would escape reproach. There are two kinds of + motherhood, monsieur; once I knew nothing of such distinctions, but I know + them now. Only half of me has become a mother; it were better for me if I + had not been a mother at all. Hélène is not <i>his</i> child! Oh! do not + start. At Saint-Lange there are volcanic depths whence come lurid gleams + of light and earthquake shocks to shake the fragile edifices of laws not + based on nature. I have borne a child, that is enough, I am a mother in + the eyes of the law. But you, monsieur, with your delicately compassionate + soul, can perhaps understand this cry from an unhappy woman who has + suffered no lying illusions to enter her heart. God will judge me, but + surely I have only obeyed His laws by giving way to the affections which + He Himself set in me, and this I have learned from my own soul.—What + is a child, monsieur, but the image of two beings, the fruit of two + sentiments spontaneously blended? Unless it is owned by every fibre of the + body, as by every chord of tenderness in the heart; unless it recalls the + bliss of love, the hours, the places where two creatures were happy, their + words that overflowed with the music of humanity, and their sweet + imaginings, that child is an incomplete creation. Yes, those two should + find the poetic dreams of their intimate double life realized in their + child as in an exquisite miniature; it should be for them a never-failing + spring of emotion, implying their whole past and their whole future. + </p> + <p> + “My poor little Hélène is her father’s child, the offspring of duty and of + chance. In me she finds nothing but the affection of instinct, the woman’s + natural compassion for the child of her womb. Socially speaking, I am + above reproach. Have I not sacrificed my life and my happiness to my + child? Her cries go to my heart; if she were to fall into the water, I + should spring to save her, but she is not in my heart. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! love set me dreaming of a motherhood far greater and more complete. + In a vanished dream I held in my arms a child conceived in desire before + it was begotten, the exquisite flower of life that blossoms in the soul + before it sees the light of day. I am Hélène’s mother only in the sense + that I brought her forth. When she needs me no longer, there will be an + end of my motherhood; with the extinction of the cause, the effects will + cease. If it is a woman’s adorable prerogative that her motherhood may + last through her child’s life, surely that divine persistence of sentiment + is due to the far-reaching glory of the conception of the soul? Unless a + child has lain wrapped about from life’s first beginnings by the mother’s + soul, the instinct of motherhood dies in her as in the animals. This is + true; I feel that it is true. As my poor little one grows older, my heart + closes. My sacrifices have driven us apart. And yet I know, monsieur, that + to another child my heart would have gone out in inexhaustible love; for + that other I should not have known what sacrifice meant, all had been + delight. In this, monsieur, my instincts are stronger than reason, + stronger than religion or all else in me. Does the woman who is neither + wife nor mother sin in wishing to die when, for her misfortune, she has + caught a glimpse of the infinite beauty of love, the limitless joy of + motherhood? What can become of her? <i>I</i> can tell you what she feels. + I cannot put that memory from me so resolutely but that a hundred times, + night and day, visions of a happiness, greater it may be than the reality, + rise before me, followed by a shudder which shakes brain and heart and + body. Before these cruel visions, my feelings and thoughts grow colorless, + and I ask myself, ‘What would my life have been <i>if</i>——?’” + </p> + <p> + She hid her face in her hands and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “There you see the depths of my heart!” she continued. “For <i>his</i> + child I could have acquiesced in any lot however dreadful. He who died, + bearing the burden of the sins of the world will forgive this thought of + which I am dying; but the world, I know, is merciless. In its ears my + words are blasphemies; I am outraging all its codes. Oh! that I could wage + war against this world and break down and refashion its laws and + traditions! Has it not turned all my thoughts, and feelings, and longings, + and hopes, and every fibre in me into so many sources of pain? Spoiled my + future, present, and past? For me the daylight is full of gloom, my + thoughts pierce me like a sword, my child is and is not. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, when Hélène speaks to me, I wish that her voice were different, when + she looks into my face I wish that she had other eyes. She constantly + keeps me in mind of all that should have been and is not. I cannot bear to + have her near me. I smile at her, I try to make up to her for the real + affection of which she is defrauded. I am wretched, monsieur, too wretched + to live. And I am supposed to be a pattern wife. And I have committed no + sins. And I am respected! I have fought down forbidden love which sprang + up at unawares within me; but if I have kept the letter of the law, have I + kept it in my heart? There has never been but one here,” she said, laying + her right hand on her breast, “one and no other; and my child feels it. + Certain looks and tones and gestures mould a child’s nature, and my poor + little one feels no thrill in the arm I put about her, no tremor comes + into my voice, no softness into my eyes when I speak to her or take her + up. She looks at me, and I cannot endure the reproach in her eyes. There + are times when I shudder to think that some day she may be my judge and + condemn her mother unheard. Heaven grant that hate may not grow up between + us! Ah! God in heaven, rather let the tomb open for me, rather let me end + my days here at Saint-Lange!—I want to go back to the world where I + shall find my other soul and become wholly a mother. Ah! forgive me, sir, + I am mad. Those words were choking me; now they are spoken. Ah! you are + weeping too! You will not despise me—” + </p> + <p> + She heard the child come in from a walk. “Hélène, my child, come here!” + she called. The words sounded like a cry of despair. + </p> + <p> + The little girl ran in, laughing and calling to her mother to see a + butterfly which she had caught; but at the sight of that mother’s tears + she grew quiet of a sudden, and went up close, and received a kiss on her + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “She will be very beautiful some day,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + “She is her father’s child,” said the Marquise, kissing the little one + with eager warmth, as if she meant to pay a debt of affection or to + extinguish some feeling of remorse. + </p> + <p> + “How hot you are, mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “There, go away, my angel,” said the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + The child went. She did not seem at all sorry to go; she did not look + back; glad perhaps to escape from a sad face, and instinctively + comprehending already an antagonism of feeling in its expression. A + mother’s love finds language in smiles, they are a part of the divine + right of motherhood. The Marquise could not smile. She flushed red as she + felt the curé’s eyes. She had hoped to act a mother’s part before him, but + neither she nor her child could deceive him. And, indeed, when a woman + loves sincerely, in the kiss she gives there is a divine honey; it is as + if a soul were breathed forth in the caress, a subtle flame of fire which + brings warmth to the heart; the kiss that lacks this delicious unction is + meagre and formal. The priest had felt the difference. He could fathom the + depths that lie between the motherhood of the flesh and the motherhood of + the heart. He gave the Marquise a keen, scrutinizing glance, then he said: + </p> + <p> + “You are right, madame; it would be better for you if you were dead——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried, “then you know all my misery; I see you do if, Christian + priest as you are, you can guess my determination to die and sanction it. + Yes, I meant to die, but I have lacked the courage. The spirit was strong, + but the flesh was weak, and when my hand did not tremble, the spirit + within me wavered. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know the reason of these inner struggles, and alternations. I am + very pitiably a woman no doubt, weak in my will, strong only to love. Oh, + I despise myself. At night, when all my household was asleep, I would go + out bravely as far as the lake; but when I stood on the brink, my + cowardice shrank from self-destruction. To you I will confess my weakness. + When I lay in my bed, again, shame would come over me, and courage would + come back. Once I took a dose of laudanum; I was ill, but I did not die. I + thought I had emptied the phial, but I had only taken half the dose.” + </p> + <p> + “You are lost, madame,” the curé said gravely, with tears in his voice. + “You will go back into the world, and you will deceive the world. You will + seek and find a compensation (as you imagine it to be) for your woes; then + will come a day of reckoning for your pleasures—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think,” she cried, “that <i>I</i> shall bestow the last, the most + precious treasures of my heart upon the first base impostor who can play + the comedy of passion? That I would pollute my life for a moment of + doubtful pleasure? No; the flame which shall consume my soul shall be + love, and nothing but love. All men, monsieur, have the senses of their + sex, but not all have the man’s soul which satisfies all the requirements + of our nature, drawing out the melodious harmony which never breaks forth + save in response to the pressure of feeling. Such a soul is not found + twice in our lifetime. The future that lies before me is hideous; I know + it. A woman is nothing without love; beauty is nothing without pleasure. + And even if happiness were offered to me a second time, would not the + world frown upon it? I owe my daughter an honored mother. Oh! I am + condemned to live in an iron circle, from which there is but one shameful + way of escape. The round of family duties, a thankless and irksome task, + is in store for me. I shall curse life; but my child shall have at least a + fair semblance of a mother. I will give her treasures of virtue for the + treasures of love of which I defraud her. + </p> + <p> + “I have not even the mother’s desire to live to enjoy her child’s + happiness. I have no belief in happiness. What will Hélène’s fate be? My + own, beyond doubt. How can a mother ensure that the man to whom she gives + her daughter will be the husband of her heart? You pour scorn on the + miserable creatures who sell themselves for a few coins to any passer-by, + though want and hunger absolve the brief union; while another union, + horrible for quite other reasons, is tolerated, nay encouraged, by + society, and a young and innocent girl is married to a man whom she has + only met occasionally during the previous three months. She is sold for + her whole lifetime. It is true that the price is high! If you allow her no + compensation for her sorrows, you might at least respect her; but no, the + most virtuous of women cannot escape calumny. This is our fate in its + double aspect. Open prostitution and shame; secret prostitution and + unhappiness. As for the poor, portionless girls, they may die or go mad, + without a soul to pity them. Beauty and virtue are not marketable in the + bazaar where souls and bodies are bought and sold—in the den of + selfishness which you call society. Why not disinherit daughters? Then, at + least, you might fulfil one of the laws of nature, and guided by your own + inclinations, choose your companions.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, from your talk it is clear to me that neither the spirit of + family nor the sense of religion appeals to you. Why should you hesitate + between the claims of the social selfishness which irritates you, and the + purely personal selfishness which craves satisfactions—” + </p> + <p> + “The family, monsieur—does such a thing exist? I decline to + recognize as a family a knot of individuals bidden by society to divide + the property after the death of father and mother, and to go their + separate ways. A family means a temporary association of persons brought + together by no will of their own, dissolved at once by death. Our laws + have broken up homes and estates, and the old family tradition handed down + from generation to generation. I see nothing but wreck and ruin about me.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you will only return to God when His hand has been heavy upon + you, and I pray that you have time enough given to you in which to make + your peace with Him. Instead of looking to heaven for comfort, you are + fixing your eyes on earth. Philosophism and personal interest have invaded + your heart; like the children of the sceptical eighteenth century, you are + deaf to the voice of religion. The pleasures of this life bring nothing + but misery. You are about to make an exchange of sorrows, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “I will falsify your predictions,” she said. “I shall be faithful to him + who died for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sorrow,” he answered, “is not likely to live long save in souls + disciplined by religion,” and he lowered his eyes respectfully lest the + Marquise should read his doubts in them. The energy of her outburst had + grieved him. He had seen the self that lurked beneath so many forms, and + despaired of softening a heart which affliction seemed to sear. The divine + Sower’s seed could not take root in such a soil, and His gentle voice was + drowned by the clamorous outcry of self-pity. Yet the good man returned + again and again with an apostle’s earnest persistence, brought back by a + hope of leading so noble and proud a soul to God; until the day when he + made the discovery that the Marquise only cared to talk with him because + it was sweet to speak of him who was no more. He would not lower his + ministry by condoning her passion, and confined the conversation more and + more to generalities and commonplaces. + </p> + <p> + Spring came, and with the spring the Marquise found distraction from her + deep melancholy. She busied herself for lack of other occupation with her + estate, making improvements for amusement. + </p> + <p> + In October she left the old chateau. In the life of leisure at Saint-Lange + she had recovered from her grief and grown fair and fresh. Her grief had + been violent at first in its course, as the quoit hurled forth with all + the player’s strength, and like the quoit after many oscillations, each + feebler than the last, it had slackened into melancholy. Melancholy is + made up of a succession of such oscillations, the first touching upon + despair, the last on the border between pain and pleasure; in youth, it is + the twilight of dawn; in age, the dusk of night. + </p> + <p> + As the Marquise drove through the village in her traveling carriage, she + met the curé on his way back from the church. She bowed in response to his + farewell greeting, but it was with lowered eyes and averted face. She did + not wish to see him again. The village curé had judged this poor Diana of + Ephesus only too well. + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + III. AT THIRTY YEARS + </h2> + <p> + Madame Firmiani was giving a ball. M. Charles de Vandenesse, a young man + of great promise, the bearer of one of those historic names which, in + spite of the efforts of legislation, are always associated with the glory + of France, had received letters of introduction to some of the great + lady’s friends in Naples, and had come to thank the hostess and to take + his leave. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse had already acquitted himself creditably on several diplomatic + missions; and now that he had received an appointment as attache to a + plenipotentiary at the Congress of Laybach, he wished to take advantage of + the opportunity to make some study of Italy on the way. This ball was a + sort of farewell to Paris and its amusements and its rapid whirl of life, + to the great eddying intellectual centre and maelstrom of pleasure; and a + pleasant thing it is to be borne along by the current of this sufficiently + slandered great city of Paris. Yet Charles de Vandenesse had little to + regret, accustomed as he had been for the past three years to salute + European capitals and turn his back upon them at the capricious bidding of + a diplomatist’s destiny. Women no longer made any impression upon him; + perhaps he thought that a real passion would play too large a part in a + diplomatist’s life; or perhaps that the paltry amusements of frivolity + were too empty for a man of strong character. We all of us have huge + claims to strength of character. There is no man in France, be he ever so + ordinary a member of the rank and file of humanity, that will waive + pretensions to something beyond mere cleverness. + </p> + <p> + Charles, young though he was—he was scarcely turned thirty—looked + at life with a philosophic mind, concerning himself with theories and + means and ends, while other men of his age were thinking of pleasure, + sentiments, and the like illusions. He forced back into some inner depth + the generosity and enthusiasms of youth, and by nature he was generous. He + tried hard to be cool and calculating, to coin the fund of wealth which + chanced to be in his nature into gracious manners, and courtesy, and + attractive arts; ‘tis the proper task of an ambitious man, to play a sorry + part to gain “a good position,” as we call it in modern days. + </p> + <p> + He had been dancing, and now he gave a farewell glance over the rooms, to + carry away a distinct impression of the ball, moved, doubtless, to some + extent by the feeling which prompts a theatre-goer to stay in his box to + see the final tableau before the curtain falls. But M. de Vandenesse had + another reason for his survey. He gazed curiously at the scene before him, + so French in character and in movement, seeking to carry away a picture of + the light and laughter and the faces at this Parisian fete, to compare + with the novel faces and picturesque surroundings awaiting him at Naples, + where he meant to spend a few days before presenting himself at his post. + He seemed to be drawing the comparison now between this France so + variable, changing even as you study her, with the manners and aspects of + that other land known to him as yet only by contradictory hearsay tales or + books of travel, for the most part unsatisfactory. Thoughts of a somewhat + poetical cast, albeit hackneyed and trite to our modern ideas, crossed his + brain, in response to some longing of which, perhaps, he himself was + hardly conscious, a desire in the depths of a heart fastidious rather than + jaded, vacant rather than seared. + </p> + <p> + “These are the wealthiest and most fashionable women and the greatest + ladies in Paris,” he said to himself. “These are the great men of the day, + great orators and men of letters, great names and titles; artists and men + in power; and yet in it all it seems to me as if there were nothing but + petty intrigues and still-born loves, meaningless smiles and causeless + scorn, eyes lighted by no flame within, brain-power in abundance running + aimlessly to waste. All those pink-and-white faces are here not so much + for enjoyment, as to escape from dulness. None of the emotion is genuine. + If you ask for nothing but court feathers properly adjusted, fresh gauzes + and pretty toilettes and fragile, fair women, if you desire simply to skim + the surface of life, here is your world for you. Be content with + meaningless phrases and fascinating simpers, and do not ask for real + feeling. For my own part, I abhor the stale intrigues which end in + sub-prefectures and receiver-generals’ places and marriages; or, if love + comes into the question, in stealthy compromises, so ashamed are we of the + mere semblance of passion. Not a single one of all these eloquent faces + tells you of a soul, a soul wholly absorbed by one idea as by remorse. + Regrets and misfortune go about shame-facedly clad in jests. There is not + one woman here whose resistance I should care to overcome, not one who + could drag you down to the pit. Where will you find energy in Paris? A + poniard here is a curious toy to hang from a gilt nail, in a picturesque + sheath to match. The women, the brains, and hearts of Paris are all on a + par. There is no passion left, because we have no individuality. High + birth and intellect and fortune are all reduced to one level; we all have + taken to the uniform black coat by way of mourning for a dead France. + There is no love between equals. Between two lovers there should be + differences to efface, wide gulfs to fill. The charm of love fled from us + in 1789. Our dulness and our humdrum lives are the outcome of the + political system. Italy at any rate is the land of sharp contrasts. Woman + there is a malevolent animal, a dangerous unreasoning siren, guided only + by her tastes and appetites, a creature no more to be trusted than a tiger—” + </p> + <p> + Mme. Firmiani here came up to interrupt this soliloquy made up of vague, + conflicting, and fragmentary thoughts which cannot be reproduced in words. + The whole charm of such musing lies in its vagueness—what is it but + a sort of mental haze? + </p> + <p> + “I want to introduce you to some one who has the greatest wish to make + your acquaintance, after all that she has heard of you,” said the lady, + taking his arm. + </p> + <p> + She brought him into the next room, and with such a smile and glance as a + Parisienne alone can give, she indicated a woman sitting by the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” the Comte de Vandenesse asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard her name more than once coupled with praise or blame. She + is a woman who lives in seclusion—a perfect mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if ever you have been merciful in your life, for pity’s sake tell me + her name.” + </p> + <p> + “She is the Marquise d’Aiglemont.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take lessons from her; she had managed to make a peer of France of + that eminently ordinary person her husband, and a dullard into a power in + the land. But, pray tell me this, did Lord Grenville die for her sake, do + you think, as some women say?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly. Since that adventure, real or imaginary, she is very much + changed, poor thing! She has not gone into society since. Four years of + constancy—that is something in Paris. If she is here to-night——” + Here Mme. Firmiani broke off, adding with a mysterious expression, “I am + forgetting that I must say nothing. Go and talk with her.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Charles stood motionless, leaning lightly against the frame + of the doorway, wholly absorbed in his scrutiny of a woman who had become + famous, no one exactly knew how or why. Such curious anomalies are + frequent enough in the world. Mme. d’Aiglemont’s reputation was certainly + no more extraordinary than plenty of other great reputations. There are + men who are always in travail of some great work which never sees the + light, statisticians held to be profound on the score of calculations + which they take very good care not to publish, politicians who live on a + newspaper article, men of letters and artists whose performances are never + given to the world, men of science, much as Sganarelle is a Latinist for + those who know no Latin; there are the men who are allowed by general + consent to possess a peculiar capacity for some one thing, be it for the + direction of arts, or for the conduct of an important mission. The + admirable phrase, “A man with a special subject,” might have been invented + on purpose for these acephalous species in the domain of literature and + politics. + </p> + <p> + Charles gazed longer than he intended. He was vexed with himself for + feeling so strongly interested; it is true, however, that the lady’s + appearance was a refutation of the young man’s ballroom generalizations. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise had reached her thirtieth year. She was beautiful in spite of + her fragile form and extremely delicate look. Her greatest charm lay in + her still face, revealing unfathomed depths of soul. Some haunting, + ever-present thought veiled, as it were, the full brilliance of eyes which + told of a fevered life and boundless resignation. So seldom did she raise + the eyelids soberly downcast, and so listless were her glances, that it + almost seemed as if the fire in her eyes were reserved for some occult + contemplation. Any man of genius and feeling must have felt strangely + attracted by her gentleness and silence. If the mind sought to explain the + mysterious problem of a constant inward turning from the present to the + past, the soul was no less interested in initiating itself into the + secrets of a heart proud in some sort of its anguish. Everything about + her, moreover, was in keeping with these thoughts which she inspired. Like + almost all women who have very long hair, she was very pale and perfectly + white. The marvelous fineness of her skin (that almost unerring sign) + indicated a quick sensibility which could be seen yet more unmistakably in + her features; there was the same minute and wonderful delicacy of finish + in them that the Chinese artist gives to his fantastic figures. Perhaps + her neck was rather too long, but such necks belong to the most graceful + type, and suggest vague affinities between a woman’s head and the magnetic + curves of the serpent. Leave not a single one of the thousand signs and + tokens by which the most inscrutable character betrays itself to an + observer of human nature, he has but to watch carefully the little + movements of a woman’s head, the ever-varying expressive turns and curves + of her neck and throat, to read her nature. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont’s dress harmonized with the haunting thought that + informed the whole woman. Her hair was gathered up into a tall coronet of + broad plaits, without ornament of any kind; she seemed to have bidden + farewell for ever to elaborate toilettes. Nor were any of the small arts + of coquetry which spoil so many women to be detected in her. Perhaps her + bodice, modest though it was, did not altogether conceal the dainty grace + of her figure, perhaps, too, her gown looked rich from the extreme + distinction of its fashion, and if it is permissible to look for + expression in the arrangement of stuffs, surely those numerous straight + folds invested her with a great dignity. There may have been some + lingering trace of the indelible feminine foible in the minute care + bestowed upon her hand and foot; yet, if she allowed them to be seen with + some pleasure, it would have tasked the utmost malice of a rival to + discover any affectation in her gestures, so natural did they seem, so + much a part of old childish habit, that her careless grace absolved this + vestige of vanity. + </p> + <p> + All these little characteristics, the nameless trifles which combine to + make up the sum of a woman’s prettiness or ugliness, her charm or lack of + charm, can only be indicated, when, as with Mme. d’Aiglemont, a + personality dominates and gives coherence to the details, informing them, + blending them all in an exquisite whole. Her manner was perfectly in + accord with her style of beauty and her dress. Only to certain women at a + certain age is it given to put language into their attitude. Is it joy or + is it sorrow that teaches a woman of thirty the secret of that eloquence + of carriage, so that she must always remain an enigma which each + interprets by the aid of his hopes, desires, or theories? + </p> + <p> + The way in which the Marquise leaned both elbows on the arm of her chair, + the toying of her interclasped fingers, the curve of her throat, the + indolent lines of her languid but lissome body as she lay back in graceful + exhaustion, as it were; her indolent limbs, her unstudied pose, the utter + lassitude of her movements,—all suggested that this was a woman for + whom life had lost its interest, a woman who had known the joys of love + only in dreams, a woman bowed down by the burden of memories of the past, + a woman who had long since despaired of the future and despaired of + herself, an unoccupied woman who took the emptiness of her own life for + the nothingness of life. + </p> + <p> + Charles de Vandenesse saw and admired the beautiful picture before him, as + a kind of artistic success beyond an ordinary woman’s powers of + attainment. He was acquainted with d’Aiglemont; and now, at the first + sight of d’Aiglemont’s wife, the young diplomatist saw at a glance a + disproportionate marriage, an incompatibility (to use the legal jargon) so + great that it was impossible that the Marquise should love her husband. + And yet—the Marquise d’Aiglemont’s life was above reproach, and for + any observer the mystery about her was the more interesting on this + account. The first impulse of surprise over, Vandenesse cast about for the + best way of approaching Mme. d’Aiglemont. He would try a commonplace piece + of diplomacy, he thought; he would disconcert her by a piece of clumsiness + and see how she would receive it. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, seating himself near her, “through a fortunate + indiscretion I have learned that, for some reason unknown to me, I have + had the good fortune to attract your notice. I owe you the more thanks + because I have never been so honored before. At the same time, you are + responsible for one of my faults, for I mean never to be modest again—” + </p> + <p> + “You will make a mistake, monsieur,” she laughed; “vanity should be left + to those who have nothing else to recommend them.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation thus opened ranged at large, in the usual way, over a + multitude of topics—art and literature, politics, men and things—till + insensibly they fell to talking of the eternal theme in France and all the + world over—love, sentiment, and women. + </p> + <p> + “We are bond-slaves.” + </p> + <p> + “You are queens.” + </p> + <p> + This was the gist and substance of all the more or less ingenious + discourse between Charles and the Marquise, as of all such discourses—past, + present, and to come. Allow a certain space of time, and the two formulas + shall begin to mean “Love me,” and “I will love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” Charles de Vandenesse exclaimed under his breath, “you have made + me bitterly regret that I am leaving Paris. In Italy I certainly shall not + pass hours in intellectual enjoyment such as this has been.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, monsieur, you will find happiness, and happiness is worth more + than all the brilliant things, true and false, that are said every evening + in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Before Charles took leave, he asked permission to pay a farewell call on + the Marquise d’Aiglemont, and very lucky did he feel himself when the form + of words in which he expressed himself for once was used in all sincerity; + and that night, and all day long on the morrow, he could not put the + thought of the Marquise out of his mind. + </p> + <p> + At times he wondered why she had singled him out, what she had meant when + she asked him to come to see her, and thought supplied an inexhaustible + commentary. Again it seemed to him that he had discovered the motives of + her curiosity, and he grew intoxicated with hope or frigidly sober with + each new construction put upon that piece of commonplace civility. + Sometimes it meant everything, sometimes nothing. He made up his mind at + last that he would not yield to this inclination, and—went to call + on Mme. d’Aiglemont. + </p> + <p> + There are thoughts which determine our conduct, while we do not so much as + suspect their existence. If at first sight this assertion appears to be + less a truth than a paradox, let any candid inquirer look into his own + life and he shall find abundant confirmation therein. Charles went to Mme. + d’Aiglemont, and so obeyed one of these latent, pre-existent germs of + thought, of which our experience and our intellectual gains and + achievements are but later and tangible developments. + </p> + <p> + For a young man a woman of thirty has irresistible attractions. There is + nothing more natural, nothing better established, no human tie of stouter + tissue than the heart-deep attachment between such a woman as the Marquise + d’Aiglemont and such a man as Charles de Vandenesse. You can see examples + of it every day in the world. A girl, as a matter of fact, has too many + young illusions, she is too inexperienced, the instinct of sex counts for + too much in her love for a young man to feel flattered by it. A woman of + thirty knows all that is involved in the self-surrender to be made. Among + the impulses of the first, put curiosity and other motives than love; the + second acts with integrity of sentiment. The first yields; the second + makes deliberate choice. Is not that choice in itself an immense flattery? + A woman armed with experience, forewarned by knowledge, almost always + dearly bought, seems to give more than herself; while the inexperienced + and credulous girl, unable to draw comparisons for lack of knowledge, can + appreciate nothing at its just worth. She accepts love and ponders it. A + woman is a counselor and a guide at an age when we love to be guided and + obedience is delight; while a girl would fain learn all things, meeting us + with a girl’s <i>naivete</i> instead of a woman’s tenderness. She affords + a single triumph; with a woman there is resistance upon resistance to + overcome; she has but joy and tears, a woman has rapture and remorse. + </p> + <p> + A girl cannot play the part of a mistress unless she is so corrupt that we + turn from her with loathing; a woman has a thousand ways of preserving her + power and her dignity; she has risked so much for love, that she must bid + him pass through his myriad transformations, while her too submissive + rival gives a sense of too serene security which palls. If the one + sacrifices her maidenly pride, the other immolates the honor of a whole + family. A girl’s coquetry is of the simplest, she thinks that all is said + when the veil is laid aside; a woman’s coquetry is endless, she shrouds + herself in veil after veil, she satisfies every demand of man’s vanity, + the novice responds but to one. + </p> + <p> + And there are terrors, fears, and hesitations—trouble and storm in + the love of a woman of thirty years, never to be found in a young girl’s + love. At thirty years a woman asks her lover to give her back the esteem + she has forfeited for his sake; she lives only for him, her thoughts are + full of his future, he must have a great career, she bids him make it + glorious; she can obey, entreat, command, humble herself, or rise in + pride; times without number she brings comfort when a young girl can only + make moan. And with all the advantages of her position, the woman of + thirty can be a girl again, for she can play all parts, assume a girl’s + bashfulness, and grow the fairer even for a mischance. + </p> + <p> + Between these two feminine types lies the immeasurable difference which + separates the foreseen from the unforeseen, strength from weakness. The + woman of thirty satisfies every requirement; the young girl must satisfy + none, under penalty of ceasing to be a young girl. Such ideas as these, + developing in a young man’s mind, help to strengthen the strongest of all + passions, a passion in which all spontaneous and natural feeling is + blended with the artificial sentiment created by conventional manners. + </p> + <p> + The most important and decisive step in a woman’s life is the very one + that she invariably regards as the most insignificant. After her marriage + she is no longer her own mistress, she is the queen and the bond-slave of + the domestic hearth. The sanctity of womanhood is incompatible with social + liberty and social claims; and for a woman emancipation means corruption. + If you give a stranger the right of entry into the sanctuary of home, do + you not put yourself at his mercy? How then if she herself bids him enter + it? Is not this an offence, or, to speak more accurately, a first step + towards an offence? You must either accept this theory with all its + consequences, or absolve illicit passion. French society hitherto has + chosen the third and middle course of looking on and laughing when + offences come, apparently upon the Spartan principle of condoning the + theft and punishing clumsiness. And this system, it may be, is a very wise + one. ‘Tis a most appalling punishment to have all your neighbors pointing + the finger of scorn at you, a punishment that a woman feels in her very + heart. Women are tenacious, and all of them should be tenacious of + respect; without esteem they cannot exist, esteem is the first demand that + they make of love. The most corrupt among them feels that she must, in the + first place, pledge the future to buy absolution for the past, and strives + to make her lover understand that only for irresistible bliss can she + barter the respect which the world henceforth will refuse to her. + </p> + <p> + Some such reflections cross the mind of any woman who for the first time + and alone receives a visit from a young man; and this especially when, + like Charles de Vandenesse, the visitor is handsome or clever. And + similarly there are not many young men who would fail to base some secret + wish on one of the thousand and one ideas which justify the instinct that + attracts them to a beautiful, witty, and unhappy woman like the Marquise + d’Aiglemont. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont, therefore, felt troubled when M. de Vandenesse was + announced; and as for him, he was almost confused in spite of the + assurance which is like a matter of costume for a diplomatist. But not for + long. The Marquise took refuge at once in the friendliness of manner which + women use as a defence against the misinterpretations of fatuity, a manner + which admits of no afterthought, while it paves the way to sentiment (to + make use of a figure of speech), tempering the transition through the + ordinary forms of politeness. In this ambiguous position, where the four + roads leading respectively to Indifference, Respect, Wonder, and Passion + meet, a woman may stay as long as she pleases, but only at thirty years + does she understand all the possibilities of the situation. Laughter, + tenderness, and jest are all permitted to her at the crossing of the ways; + she has acquired the tact by which she finds all the responsive chords in + a man’s nature, and skill in judging the sounds which she draws forth. Her + silence is as dangerous as her speech. You will never read her at that + age, nor discover if she is frank or false, nor how far she is serious in + her admissions or merely laughing at you. She gives you the right to + engage in a game of fence with her, and suddenly by a glance, a gesture of + proved potency, she closes the combat and turns from you with your secret + in her keeping, free to offer you up in a jest, free to interest herself + in you, safe alike in her weakness and your strength. + </p> + <p> + Although the Marquise d’Aiglemont took up her position upon this neutral + ground during the first interview, she knew how to preserve a high womanly + dignity. The sorrows of which she never spoke seemed to hang over her + assumed gaiety like a light cloud obscuring the sun. When Vandenesse went + out, after a conversation which he had enjoyed more than he had thought + possible, he carried with him the conviction that this was like to be too + costly a conquest for his aspirations. + </p> + <p> + “It would mean sentiment from here to yonder,” he thought, “and + correspondence enough to wear out a deputy second-clerk on his promotion. + And yet if I really cared——” + </p> + <p> + Luckless phrase that has been the ruin of many an infatuated mortal. In + France the way to love lies through self-love. Charles went back to Mme. + d’Aiglemont, and imagined that she showed symptoms of pleasure in his + conversion. And then, instead of giving himself up like a boy to the joy + of falling in love, he tried to play a double role. He did his best to act + passion and to keep cool enough to analyze the progress of this + flirtation, to be lover and diplomatist at once; but youth and hot blood + and analysis could only end in one way, over head and ears in love; for, + natural or artificial, the Marquise was more than his match. Each time he + went out from Mme. d’Aiglemont, he strenuously held himself to his + distrust, and submitted the progressive situations of his case to a + rigorous scrutiny fatal to his own emotions. + </p> + <p> + “To-day she gave me to understand that she has been very unhappy and + lonely,” said he to himself, after the third visit, “and that but for her + little girl she would have longed for death. She was perfectly resigned. + Now as I am neither her brother nor her spiritual director, why should she + confide her troubles to <i>me</i>? She loves me.” + </p> + <p> + Two days later he came away apostrophizing modern manners. + </p> + <p> + “Love takes on the hue of every age. In 1822 love is a doctrinaire. + Instead of proving love by deeds, as in times past, we have taken to + argument and rhetoric and debate. Women’s tactics are reduced to three + shifts. In the first place, they declare that we cannot love as they love. + (Coquetry! the Marquise simply threw it at me, like a challenge, this + evening!) Next they grow pathetic, to appeal to our natural generosity or + self-love; for does it not flatter a young man’s vanity to console a woman + for a great calamity? And lastly, they have a craze for virginity. She + must have thought that I thought her very innocent. My good faith is like + to become an excellent speculation.” + </p> + <p> + But a day came when every suspicious idea was exhausted. He asked himself + whether the Marquise was not sincere; whether so much suffering could be + feigned, and why she should act the part of resignation? She lived in + complete seclusion; she drank in silence of a cup of sorrow scarcely to be + guessed unless from the accent of some chance exclamation in a voice + always well under control. From that moment Charles felt a keen interest + in Mme. d’Aiglemont. And yet, though his visits had come to be a + recognized thing, and in some sort a necessity to them both, and though + the hour was kept free by tacit agreement, Vandenesse still thought that + this woman with whom he was in love was more clever than sincere. + “Decidedly, she is an uncommonly clever woman,” he used to say to himself + as he went away. + </p> + <p> + When he came into the room, there was the Marquise in her favorite + attitude, melancholy expressed in her whole form. She made no movement + when he entered, only raised her eyes and looked full at him, but the + glance that she gave him was like a smile. Mme. d’Aiglemont’s manner meant + confidence and sincere friendship, but of love there was no trace. Charles + sat down and found nothing to say. A sensation for which no language + exists troubled him. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you?” she asked in a softened voice. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.... Yes; I am thinking of something of which, as yet, you have + not thought at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—the Congress is over.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “and ought you to have been at the Congress?” + </p> + <p> + A direct answer would have been the most eloquent and delicate declaration + of love; but Charles did not make it. Before the candid friendship in Mme. + d’Aiglemont’s face all the calculations of vanity, the hopes of love, and + the diplomatist’s doubts died away. She did not suspect, or she seemed not + to suspect, his love for her; and Charles, in utter confusion turning upon + himself, was forced to admit that he had said and done nothing which could + warrant such a belief on her part. For M. de Vandenesse that evening, the + Marquise was, as she had always been, simple and friendly, sincere in her + sorrow, glad to have a friend, proud to find a nature responsive to her + own—nothing more. It had not entered her mind that a woman could + yield twice; she had known love—love lay bleeding still in the + depths of her heart, but she did not imagine that bliss could bring her + its rapture twice, for she believed not merely in the intellect, but in + the soul; and for her love was no simple attraction; it drew her with all + noble attractions. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Charles became a young man again, enthralled by the splendor + of a nature so lofty. He wished for a fuller initiation into the secret + history of a life blighted rather by fate than by her own fault. Mme. + d’Aiglemont heard him ask the cause of the overwhelming sorrow which had + blended all the harmonies of sadness with her beauty; she gave him one + glance, but that searching look was like a seal set upon some solemn + compact. + </p> + <p> + “Ask no more such questions of me,” she said. “Four years ago, on this + very day, the man who loved me, for whom I would have given up everything, + even my own self-respect, died, and died to save my name. That love was + still young and pure and full of illusions when it came to an end. Before + I gave way to passion—and never was a woman so urged by fate—I + had been drawn into the mistake that ruins many a girl’s life, a marriage + with a man whose agreeable manners concealed his emptiness. Marriage + plucked my hopes away one by one. And now, to-day, I have forfeited + happiness through marriage, as well as the happiness styled criminal, and + I have known no happiness. Nothing is left to me. If I could not die, at + least I ought to be faithful to my memories.” + </p> + <p> + No tears came with the words. Her eyes fell, and there was a slight + twisting of the fingers interclasped, according to her wont. It was simply + said, but in her voice there was a note of despair, deep as her love + seemed to have been, which left Charles without a hope. The dreadful story + of a life told in three sentences, with that twisting of the fingers for + all comment, the might of anguish in a fragile woman, the dark depths + masked by a fair face, the tears of four years of mourning fascinated + Vandenesse; he sat silent and diminished in the presence of her woman’s + greatness and nobleness, seeing not the physical beauty so exquisite, so + perfectly complete, but the soul so great in its power to feel. He had + found, at last, the ideal of his fantastic imaginings, the ideal so + vigorously invoked by all who look on life as the raw material of a + passion for which many a one seeks ardently, and dies before he has + grasped the whole of the dreamed-of treasure. + </p> + <p> + With those words of hers in his ears, in the presence of her sublime + beauty, his own thoughts seemed poor and narrow. Powerless as he felt + himself to find words of his own, simple enough and lofty enough to scale + the heights of this exaltation, he took refuge in platitudes as to the + destiny of women. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, we must either forget our pain, or hollow out a tomb for + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + But reason always cuts a poor figure beside sentiment; the one being + essentially restricted, like everything that is positive, while the other + is infinite. To set to work to reason where you are required to feel, is + the mark of a limited nature. Vandenesse therefore held his peace, sat + awhile with his eyes fixed upon her, then came away. A prey to novel + thoughts which exalted woman for him, he was in something the same + position as a painter who has taken the vulgar studio model for a type of + womanhood, and suddenly confronts the <i>Mnemosyne</i> of the Musée—that + noblest and least appreciated of antique statues. + </p> + <p> + Charles de Vandenesse was deeply in love. He loved Mme. d’Aiglemont with + the loyalty of youth, with the fervor that communicates such ineffable + charm to a first passion, with a simplicity of heart of which a man only + recovers some fragments when he loves again at a later day. Delicious + first passion of youth, almost always deliciously savored by the woman who + calls it forth; for at the golden prime of thirty, from the poetic summit + of a woman’s life, she can look out over the whole course of love—backwards + into the past, forwards into the future—and, knowing all the price + to be paid for love, enjoys her bliss with the dread of losing it ever + present with her. Her soul is still fair with her waning youth, and + passion daily gathers strength from the dismaying prospect of the coming + days. + </p> + <p> + “This is love,” Vandenesse said to himself this time as he left the + Marquise, “and for my misfortune I love a woman wedded to her memories. It + is hard work to struggle against a dead rival, never present to make + blunders and fall out of favor, nothing of him left but his better + qualities. What is it but a sort of high treason against the Ideal to + attempt to break the charm of memory, to destroy the hopes that survive a + lost lover, precisely because he only awakened longings, and all that is + loveliest and most enchanting in love?” + </p> + <p> + These sober reflections, due to the discouragement and dread of failure + with which love begins in earnest, were the last expiring effort of + diplomatic reasoning. Thenceforward he knew no afterthoughts, he was the + plaything of his love, and lost himself in the nothings of that strange + inexplicable happiness which is full fed by a chance word, by silence, or + a vague hope. He tried to love Platonically, came daily to breathe the air + that she breathed, became almost a part of her house, and went everywhere + with her, slave as he was of a tyrannous passion compounded of egoism and + devotion of the completest. Love has its own instinct, finding the way to + the heart, as the feeblest insect finds the way to its flower, with a will + which nothing can dismay or turn aside. If feeling is sincere, its destiny + is not doubtful. Let a woman begin to think that her life depends on the + sincerity or fervor or earnestness which her lover shall put into his + longings, and is there not sufficient in the thought to put her through + all the tortures of dread? It is impossible for a woman, be she wife or + mother, to be secure from a young man’s love. One thing it is within her + power to do—to refuse to see him as soon as she learns a secret + which she never fails to guess. But this is too decided a step to take at + an age when marriage has become a prosaic and tiresome yoke, and conjugal + affection is something less than tepid (if indeed her husband has not + already begun to neglect her). Is a woman plain? she is flattered by a + love which gives her fairness. Is she young and charming? She is only to + be won by a fascination as great as her own power to charm, that is to + say, a fascination well-nigh irresistible. Is she virtuous? There is a + love sublime in its earthliness which leads her to find something like + absolution in the very greatness of the surrender and glory in a hard + struggle. Everything is a snare. No lesson, therefore, is too severe where + the temptation is so strong. The seclusion in which the Greeks and + Orientals kept and keep their women, an example more and more followed in + modern England, is the only safeguard of domestic morality; but under this + system there is an end of all the charm of social intercourse; and + society, and good breeding, and refinement of manners become impossible. + The nations must take their choice. + </p> + <p> + So a few months went by, and Mme. d’Aiglemont discovered that her life was + closely bound with this young man’s life, without overmuch confusion in + her surprise, and felt with something almost like pleasure that she shared + his tastes and his thoughts. Had she adopted Vandenesse’s ideas? Or was it + Vandenesse who had made her lightest whims his own? She was not careful to + inquire. She had been swept out already into the current of passion, and + yet this adorable woman told herself with the confident reiteration of + misgiving; + </p> + <p> + “Ah! no. I will be faithful to him who died for me.” + </p> + <p> + Pascal said that “the doubt of God implies belief in God.” And similarly + it may be said that a woman only parleys when she has surrendered. A day + came when the Marquise admitted to herself that she was loved, and with + that admission came a time of wavering among countless conflicting + thoughts and feelings. The superstitions of experience spoke their + language. Should she be happy? Was it possible that she should find + happiness outside the limits of the laws which society rightly or wrongly + has set up for humanity to live by? Hitherto her cup of life had been full + of bitterness. Was there any happy issue possible for the ties which + united two human beings held apart by social conventions? And might not + happiness be bought too dear? Still, this so ardently desired happiness, + for which it is so natural to seek, might perhaps be found after all. + Curiosity is always retained on the lover’s side in the suit. The secret + tribunal was still sitting when Vandenesse appeared, and his presence put + the metaphysical spectre, reason, to flight. + </p> + <p> + If such are the successive transformations through which a sentiment, + transient though it be, passes in a young man and a woman of thirty, there + comes a moment of time when the shades of difference blend into each + other, when all reasonings end in a single and final reflection which is + lost and absorbed in the desire which it confirms. Then the longer the + resistance, the mightier the voice of love. And here endeth this lesson, + or rather this study made from the <i>écorché</i>, to borrow a most + graphic term from the studio, for in this history it is not so much + intended to portray love as to lay bare its mechanism and its dangers. + From this moment every day adds color to these dry bones, clothes them + again with living flesh and blood and the charm of youth, and puts + vitality into their movements; till they glow once more with the beauty, + the persuasive grace of sentiment, the loveliness of life. + </p> + <p> + Charles found Mme. d’Aiglemont absorbed in thought, and to his “What is + it?” spoken in thrilling tones grown persuasive with the heart’s soft + magic, she was careful not to reply. The delicious question bore witness + to the perfect unity of their spirits; and the Marquise felt, with a + woman’s wonderful intuition, that to give any expression to the sorrow in + her heart would be to make an advance. If, even now, each one of those + words was fraught with significance for them both, in what fathomless + depths might she not plunge at the first step? She read herself with a + clear and lucid glance. She was silent, and Vandenesse followed her + example. + </p> + <p> + “I am not feeling well,” she said at last, taking alarm at the pause + fraught with such great moment for them both, when the language of the + eyes completely filled the blank left by the helplessness of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said Charles, and his voice was tender but unsteady with strong + feeling, “soul and body are both dependent on each other. If you were + happy, you would be young and fresh. Why do you refuse to ask of love all + that love has taken from you? You think that your life is over when it is + only just beginning. Trust yourself to a friend’s care. It is so sweet to + be loved.” + </p> + <p> + “I am old already,” she said; “there is no reason why I should not + continue to suffer as in the past. And ‘one must love,’ do you say? Well, + I must not, and I cannot. Your friendship has put some sweetness into my + life, but beside you I care for no one, no one could efface my memories. A + friend I accept; I should fly from a lover. Besides, would it be a very + generous thing to do, to exchange a withered heart for a young heart; to + smile upon illusions which now I cannot share, to cause happiness in which + I should either have no belief, or tremble to lose? I should perhaps + respond to his devotion with egoism, should weigh and deliberate while he + felt; my memory would resent the poignancy of his happiness. No, if you + love once, that love is never replaced, you see. Indeed, who would have my + heart at this price?” + </p> + <p> + There was a tinge of heartless coquetry in the words, the last effort of + discretion. + </p> + <p> + “If he loses courage, well and good, I shall live alone and faithful.” The + thought came from the very depths of the woman, for her it was the too + slender willow twig caught in vain by a swimmer swept out by the current. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse’s involuntary shudder at her dictum plead more eloquently for + him than all his past assiduity. Nothing moves a woman so much as the + discovery of a gracious delicacy in us, such a refinement of sentiment as + her own, for a woman the grace and delicacy are sure tokens of truth. + Charles’ start revealed the sincerity of his love. Mme. d’Aiglemont + learned the strength of his affection from the intensity of his pain. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right,” he said coldly. “New love, new vexation of + spirit.” + </p> + <p> + Then he changed the subject, and spoke of indifferent matters; but he was + visibly moved, and he concentrated his gaze on Mme. d’Aiglemont as if he + were seeing her for the last time. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, madame,” he said, with emotion in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Au revoir</i>,” said she, with that subtle coquetry, the secret of a + very few among women. + </p> + <p> + He made no answer and went. + </p> + <p> + When Charles was no longer there, when his empty chair spoke for him, + regrets flocked in upon her, and she found fault with herself. Passion + makes an immense advance as soon as a woman persuades herself that she has + failed somewhat in generosity or hurt a noble nature. In love there is + never any need to be on our guard against the worst in us; that is a + safeguard; a woman only surrenders at the summons of a virtue. “The floor + of hell is paved with good intentions,”—it is no preacher’s paradox. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse stopped away for several days. Every evening at the accustomed + hour the Marquise sat expectant in remorseful impatience. She could not + write—that would be a declaration, and, moreover, her instinct told + her that he would come back. On the sixth day he was announced, and never + had she heard the name with such delight. Her joy frightened her. + </p> + <p> + “You have punished me well,” she said, addressing him. + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse gazed at her in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Punished?” he echoed. “And for what?” He understood her quite well, but + he meant to be avenged for all that he had suffered as soon as she + suspected it. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you not come to see me?” she demanded with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have seen no visitors?” asked he, parrying the question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. M. de Ronquerolles and M. de Marsay and young d’Escrignon came and + stayed for nearly two hours, the first two yesterday, the last this + morning. And besides, I have had a call, I believe, from Mme. Firmiani and + from your sister, Mme. de Listomere.” + </p> + <p> + Here was a new infliction, torture which none can comprehend unless they + know love as a fierce and all-invading tyrant whose mildest symptom is a + monstrous jealousy, a perpetual desire to snatch away the beloved from + every other influence. + </p> + <p> + “What!” thought he to himself, “she has seen visitors, she has been with + happy creatures, and talking to them, while I was unhappy and all alone.” + </p> + <p> + He buried his annoyance forthwith, and consigned love to the depths of his + heart, like a coffin to the sea. His thoughts were of the kind that never + find expression in words; they pass through the mind swiftly as a deadly + acid, that poisons as it evaporates and vanishes. His brow, however, was + over-clouded; and Mme. d’Aiglemont, guided by her woman’s instinct, shared + his sadness without understanding it. She had hurt him, unwittingly, as + Vandenesse knew. He talked over his position with her, as if his jealousy + were one of those hypothetical cases which lovers love to discuss. Then + the Marquise understood it all. She was so deeply moved, that she could + not keep back the tears—and so these lovers entered the heaven of + love. + </p> + <p> + Heaven and Hell are two great imaginative conceptions formulating our + ideas of Joy and Sorrow—those two poles about which human existence + revolves. Is not heaven a figure of speech covering now and for evermore + an infinite of human feeling impossible to express save in its accidents—since + that Joy is one? And what is Hell but the symbol of our infinite power to + suffer tortures so diverse that of our pain it is possible to fashion + works of art, for no two human sorrows are alike? + </p> + <p> + One evening the two lovers sat alone and side by side, silently watching + one of the fairest transformations of the sky, a cloudless heaven taking + hues of pale gold and purple from the last rays of the sunset. With the + slow fading of the daylight, sweet thoughts seem to awaken, and soft + stirrings of passion, and a mysterious sense of trouble in the midst of + calm. Nature sets before us vague images of bliss, bidding us enjoy the + happiness within our reach, or lament it when it has fled. In those + moments fraught with enchantment, when the tender light in the canopy of + the sky blends in harmony with the spells working within, it is difficult + to resist the heart’s desires grown so magically potent. Cares are + blunted, joy becomes ecstasy; pain, intolerable anguish. The pomp of + sunset gives the signal for confessions and draws them forth. Silence + grows more dangerous than speech for it gives to eyes all the power of the + infinite of the heavens reflected in them. And for speech, the least word + has irresistible might. Is not the light infused into the voice and purple + into the glances? Is not heaven within us, or do we feel that we are in + the heavens? + </p> + <p> + Vandenesse and Julie—for so she had allowed herself to be called for + the past few days by him whom she loved to speak of as Charles—Vandenesse + and Julie were talking together, but they had drifted very far from their + original subject; and if their spoken words had grown meaningless they + listened in delight to the unspoken thoughts that lurked in the sounds. + Her hand lay in his. She had abandoned it to him without a thought that + she had granted a proof of love. + </p> + <p> + Together they leaned forward to look out upon a majestic cloud country, + full of snows and glaciers and fantastic mountain peaks with gray stains + of shadow on their sides, a picture composed of sharp contrasts between + fiery red and the shadows of darkness, filling the skies with a fleeting + vision of glory which cannot be reproduced—magnificent + swaddling-bands of sunrise, bright shrouds of the dying sun. As they + leaned Julie’s hair brushed lightly against Vandenesse’s cheek. She felt + that light contact, and shuddered violently, and he even more, for + imperceptibly they both had reached one of those inexplicable crises when + quiet has wrought upon the senses until every faculty of perception is so + keen that the slightest shock fills the heart lost in melancholy with + sadness that overflows in tears; or raises joy to ecstasy in a heart that + is lost in the vertigo of love. Almost involuntarily Julie pressed her + lover’s hand. That wooing pressure gave courage to his timidity. All the + joy of the present, all the hopes of the future were blended in the + emotion of a first caress, the bashful trembling kiss that Mme. + d’Aiglemont received upon her cheek. The slighter the concession, the more + dangerous and insinuating it was. For their double misfortune it was only + too sincere a revelation. Two noble natures had met and blended, drawn + each to each by every law of natural attraction, held apart by every + ordinance. + </p> + <p> + General d’Aiglemont came in at that very moment. + </p> + <p> + “The Ministry has gone out,” he said. “Your uncle will be in the new + cabinet. So you stand an uncommonly good chance of an embassy, + Vandenesse.” + </p> + <p> + Charles and Julie looked at each other and flushed red. That blush was one + more tie to unite them; there was one thought and one remorse in either + mind; between two lovers guilty of a kiss there is a bond quite as strong + and terrible as the bond between two robbers who have murdered a man. + Something had to be said by way of reply. + </p> + <p> + “I do not care to leave Paris now,” Charles said. + </p> + <p> + “We know why,” said the General, with the knowing air of a man who + discovers a secret. “You do not like to leave your uncle, because you do + not wish to lose your chance of succeeding to the title.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise took refuge in her room, and in her mind passed a pitiless + verdict upon her husband. + </p> + <p> + “His stupidity is really beyond anything!” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + IV. THE FINGER OF GOD + </h2> + <p> + Between the Barrière d’Italie and the Barrière de la Santé, along the + boulevard which leads to the Jardin des Plantes, you have a view of Paris + fit to send an artist or the tourist, the most <i>blase</i> in matters of + landscape, into ecstasies. Reach the slightly higher ground where the line + of boulevard, shaded by tall, thick-spreading trees, curves with the grace + of some green and silent forest avenue, and you see spread out at your + feet a deep valley populous with factories looking almost countrified + among green trees and the brown streams of the Bièvre or the Gobelins. + </p> + <p> + On the opposite slope, beneath some thousands of roofs packed close + together like heads in a crowd, lurks the squalor of the Faubourg + Saint-Marceau. The imposing cupola of the Panthéon, and the grim + melancholy dome of the Val-du-Grace, tower proudly up above a whole town + in itself, built amphitheatre-wise; every tier being grotesquely + represented by a crooked line of street, so that the two public monuments + look like a huge pair of giants dwarfing into insignificance the poor + little houses and the tallest poplars in the valley. To your left behold + the observatory, the daylight, pouring athwart its windows and galleries, + producing such fantastical strange effects that the building looks like a + black spectral skeleton. Further yet in the distance rises the elegant + lantern tower of the Invalides, soaring up between the bluish pile of the + Luxembourg and the gray tours of Saint-Sulpice. From this standpoint the + lines of the architecture are blended with green leaves and gray shadows, + and change every moment with every aspect of the heavens, every alteration + of light or color in the sky. Afar, the skyey spaces themselves seem to be + full of buildings; near, wind the serpentine curves of waving trees and + green footpaths. + </p> + <p> + Away to your right, through a great gap in this singular landscape, you + see the canal Saint-Martin, a long pale stripe with its edging of reddish + stone quays and fringes of lime avenue. The long rows of buildings beside + it, in genuine Roman style, are the public granaries. + </p> + <p> + Beyond, again, on the very last plane of all, see the smoke-dimmed slopes + of Belleville covered with houses and windmills, which blend their freaks + of outline with the chance effects of cloud. And still, between that + horizon, vague as some childish recollection, and the serried range of + roofs in the valley, a whole city lies out of sight: a huge city, + engulfed, as it were, in a vast hollow between the pinnacles of the + Hôpital de la Pitié and the ridge line of the Cimetiere de l’Est, between + suffering on the one hand and death on the other; a city sending up a + smothered roar like Ocean grumbling at the foot of a cliff, as if to let + you know that “I am here!” + </p> + <p> + When the sunlight pours like a flood over this strip of Paris, purifying + and etherealizing the outlines, kindling answering lights here and there + in the window panes, brightening the red tiles, flaming about the golden + crosses, whitening walls and transforming the atmosphere into a gauzy + veil, calling up rich contrasts of light and fantastic shadow; when the + sky is blue and earth quivers in the heat, and the bells are pealing, then + you shall see one of the eloquent fairy scenes which stamp themselves for + ever on the imagination, a scene that shall find as fanatical worshipers + as the wondrous views of Naples and Byzantium or the isles of Florida. + Nothing is wanting to complete the harmony, the murmur of the world of men + and the idyllic quiet of solitude, the voices of a million human creatures + and the voice of God. There lies a whole capital beneath the peaceful + cypresses of Pere-Lachaise. + </p> + <p> + The landscape lay in all its beauty, sparkling in the spring sunlight, as + I stood looking out over it one morning, my back against a huge elm-tree + that flung its yellow flowers to the wind. At the sight of the rich and + glorious view before me, I thought bitterly of the scorn with which even + in our literature we affect to hold this land of ours, and poured + maledictions on the pitiable plutocrats who fall out of love with fair + France, and spend their gold to acquire the right of sneering at their own + country, by going through Italy at a gallop and inspecting that desecrated + land through an opera-glass. I cast loving eyes on modern Paris. I was + beginning to dream dreams, when the sound of a kiss disturbed the solitude + and put philosophy to flight. Down the sidewalk, along the steep bank, + above the rippling water, I saw beyond the Ponte des Gobelins the figure + of a woman, dressed with the daintiest simplicity; she was still young, as + it seemed to me, and the blithe gladness of the landscape was reflected in + her sweet face. Her companion, a handsome young man, had just set down a + little boy. A prettier child has never been seen, and to this day I do not + know whether it was the little one or his mother who received the kiss. In + their young faces, in their eyes, their smile, their every movement, you + could read the same deep and tender thought. Their arms were interlaced + with such glad swiftness; they drew close together with such marvelous + unanimity of impulse that, conscious of nothing but themselves, they did + not so much as see me. A second child, however—a little girl, who + had turned her back upon them in sullen discontent—threw me a + glance, and the expression in her eyes startled me. She was as pretty and + engaging as the little brother whom she left to run about by himself, + sometimes before, sometimes after their mother and her companion; but her + charm was less childish, and now, as she stood mute and motionless, her + attitude and demeanor suggested a torpid snake. There was something + indescribably mechanical in the way in which the pretty woman and her + companion paced up and down. In absence of mind, probably, they were + content to walk to and fro between the little bridge and a carriage that + stood waiting nearby at a corner in the boulevard, turning, stopping short + now and again, looking into each other’s eyes, or breaking into laughter + as their casual talk grew lively or languid, grave or gay. + </p> + <p> + I watched this delicious picture a while from my hiding-place by the great + elm-tree, and should have turned away no doubt and respected their + privacy, if it had not been for a chance discovery. In the face of the + brooding, silent, elder child I saw traces of thought overdeep for her + age. When her mother and the young man at her side turned and came near, + her head was frequently lowered; the furtive sidelong glances of + intelligence that she gave the pair and the child her brother were nothing + less than extraordinary. Sometimes the pretty woman or her friend would + stroke the little boy’s fair curls, or lay a caressing finger against the + baby throat or the white collar as he played at keeping step with them; + and no words can describe the shrewd subtlety, the ingenuous malice, the + fierce intensity which lighted up that pallid little face with the faint + circles already round the eyes. Truly there was a man’s power of passion + in the strange-looking, delicate little girl. Here were traces of + suffering or of thought in her; and which is the more certain token of + death when life is in blossom—physical suffering, or the malady of + too early thought preying upon a soul as yet in bud? Perhaps a mother + knows. For my own part, I know of nothing more dreadful to see than an old + man’s thoughts on a child’s forehead; even blasphemy from girlish lips is + less monstrous. + </p> + <p> + The almost stupid stolidity of this child who had begun to think already, + her rare gestures, everything about her, interested me. I scrutinized her + curiously. Then the common whim of the observer drew me to compare her + with her brother, and to note their likeness and unlikeness. + </p> + <p> + Her brown hair and dark eyes and look of precocious power made a rich + contrast with the little one’s fair curled head and sea-green eyes and + winning helplessness. She, perhaps, was seven or eight years of age; the + boy was full four years younger. Both children were dressed alike; but + here again, looking closely, I noticed a difference. It was very slight, a + little thing enough; but in the light of after events I saw that it meant + a whole romance in the past, a whole tragedy to come. The little + brown-haired maid wore a linen collar with a plain hem, her brother’s was + edged with dainty embroidery, that was all; but therein lay the confession + of a heart’s secret, a tacit preference which a child can read in the + mother’s inmost soul as clearly as if the spirit of God revealed it. The + fair-haired child, careless and glad, looked almost like a girl, his skin + was so fair and fresh, his movements so graceful, his look so sweet; while + his older sister, in spite of her energy, in spite of the beauty of her + features and her dazzling complexion, looked like a sickly little boy. In + her bright eyes there was none of the humid softness which lends such + charm to children’s faces; they seemed, like courtiers’ eyes, to be dried + by some inner fire; and in her pallor there was a certain swarthy olive + tint, the sign of vigorous character. Twice her little brother came to + her, holding out a tiny hunting-horn with a touching charm, a winning + look, and wistful expression, which would have sent Charlet into + ecstasies, but she only scowled in answer to his “Here, Hélène, will you + take it?” so persuasively spoken. The little girl, so sombre and vehement + beneath her apparent indifference, shuddered, and even flushed red when + her brother came near her; but the little one seemed not to notice his + sister’s dark mood, and his unconsciousness, blended with earnestness, + marked a final difference in character between the child and the little + girl, whose brow was overclouded already by the gloom of a man’s knowledge + and cares. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, Hélène will not play,” cried the little one, seizing an + opportunity to complain while the two stood silent on the Ponte des + Gobelins. + </p> + <p> + “Let her alone, Charles; you know very well that she is always cross.” + </p> + <p> + Tears sprang to Hélène’s eyes at the words so thoughtlessly uttered by her + mother as she turned abruptly to the young man by her side. The child + devoured the speech in silence, but she gave her brother one of those + sagacious looks that seemed inexplicable to me, glancing with a sinister + expression from the bank where he stood to the Bièvre, then at the bridge + and the view, and then at me. + </p> + <p> + I was afraid lest my presence should disturb the happy couple; I slipped + away and took refuge behind a thicket of elder trees, which completely + screened me from all eyes. Sitting quietly on the summit of the bank, I + watched the ever-changing landscape and the fierce-looking little girl, + for with my head almost on a level with the boulevard I could still see + her through the leaves. Hélène seemed uneasy over my disappearance, her + dark eyes looked for me down the alley and behind the trees with + indefinable curiosity. What was I to her? Then Charles’ baby laughter rang + out like a bird’s song in the silence. The tall, young man, with the same + fair hair, was dancing him in his arms, showering kisses upon him, and the + meaningless baby words of that “little language” which rises to our lips + when we play with children. The mother looked on smiling, now and then, + doubtless, putting in some low word that came up from the heart, for her + companion would stop short in his full happiness, and the blue eyes that + turned towards her were full of glowing light and love and worship. Their + voices, blending with the child’s voice, reached me with a vague sense of + a caress. The three figures, charming in themselves, composed a lovely + scene in a glorious landscape, filling it with a pervasive unimaginable + grace. A delicately fair woman, radiant with smiles, a child of love, a + young man with the irresistible charm of youth, a cloudless sky; nothing + was wanting in nature to complete a perfect harmony for the delight of the + soul. I found myself smiling as if their happiness had been my own. + </p> + <p> + The clocks struck nine. The young man gave a tender embrace to his + companion, and went towards the tilbury which an old servant drove slowly + to meet him. The lady had grown grave and almost sad. The child’s prattle + sounded unchecked through the last farewell kisses. Then the tilbury + rolled away, and the lady stood motionless, listening to the sound of the + wheels, watching the little cloud of dust raised by its passage along the + road. Charles ran down the green pathway back to the bridge to join his + sister. I heard his silver voice calling to her. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not come to say good-bye to my good friend?” cried he. + </p> + <p> + Hélène looked up. Never surely did such hatred gleam from a child’s eyes + as from hers at that moment when she turned them on the brother who stood + beside her on the bank side. She gave him an angry push. Charles lost his + footing on the steep slope, stumbled over the roots of a tree, and fell + headlong forwards, dashing his forehead on the sharp-edged stones of the + embankment, and, covered with blood, disappeared over the edge into the + muddy river. The turbid water closed over a fair, bright head with a + shower of splashes; one sharp shriek after another rang in my ears; then + the sounds were stifled by the thick stream, and the poor child sank with + a dull sound as if a stone had been thrown into the water. The accident + had happened with more than lightning swiftness. I sprang down the + footpath, and Hélène, stupefied with horror, shrieked again and again: + </p> + <p> + “Mamma! mamma!” + </p> + <p> + The mother was there at my side. She had flown to the spot like a bird. + But neither a mother’s eyes nor mine could find the exact place where the + little one had gone under. There was a wide space of black hurrying water, + and below in the bed of the Bièvre ten feet of mud. There was not the + smallest possibility of saving the child. No one was stirring at that hour + on a Sunday morning, and there are neither barges nor anglers on the + Bièvre. There was not a creature in sight, not a pole to plumb the filthy + stream. What need was there for me to explain how the ugly-looking + accident had happened—accident or misfortune, whichever it might be? + Had Hélène avenged her father? Her jealousy surely was the sword of God. + And yet when I looked at the mother I shivered. What fearful ordeal + awaited her when she should return to her husband, the judge before whom + she must stand all her days? And here with her was an inseparable, + incorruptible witness. A child’s forehead is transparent, a child’s face + hides no thoughts, and a lie, like a red flame set within glows out red + that colors even the eyes. But the unhappy woman had not thought as yet of + the punishment awaiting her at home; she was staring into the Bièvre. + </p> + <p> + Such an event must inevitably send ghastly echoes through a woman’s life, + and here is one of the most terrible of the reverberations that troubled + Julie’s love from time to time. + </p> + <p> + Several years had gone by. The Marquis de Vandenesse wore mourning for his + father, and succeeded to his estates. One evening, therefore, after dinner + it happened that a notary was present in his house. This was no + pettifogging lawyer after Sterne’s pattern, but a very solid, substantial + notary of Paris, one of your estimable men who do a stupid thing + pompously, set down a foot heavily upon your private corn, and then ask + what in the world there is to cry out about? If, by accident, they come to + know the full extent of the enormity, “Upon my word,” cry they, “I hadn’t + a notion!” This was a well-intentioned ass, in short, who could see + nothing in life but deeds and documents. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Aiglemont had been dining with M. de Vandenesse; her husband had + excused himself before dinner was over, for he was taking his two children + to the play. They were to go to some Boulevard theatre or other, to the + Ambigu-Comique or the Gaieté, sensational melodrama being judged harmless + here in Paris, and suitable pabulum for childhood, because innocence is + always triumphant in the fifth act. The boy and girl had teased their + father to be there before the curtain rose, so he had left the table + before dessert was served. + </p> + <p> + But the notary, the imperturbable notary, utterly incapable of asking + himself why Mme. d’Aiglemont should have allowed her husband and children + to go without her to the play, sat on as if he were screwed to his chair. + Dinner was over, dessert had been prolonged by discussion, and coffee + delayed. All these things consumed time, doubtless precious, and drew + impatient movements from that charming woman; she looked not unlike a + thoroughbred pawing the ground before a race; but the man of law, to whom + horses and women were equally unknown quantities, simply thought the + Marquise a very lively and sparkling personage. So enchanted was he to be + in the company of a woman of fashion and a political celebrity, that he + was exerting himself to shine in conversation, and taking the lady’s + forced smile for approbation, talked on with unflagging spirit, till the + Marquise was almost out of patience. + </p> + <p> + The master of the house, in concert with the lady, had more than once + maintained an eloquent silence when the lawyer expected a civil reply; but + these significant pauses were employed by the talkative nuisance in + looking for anecdotes in the fire. M. de Vandenesse had recourse to his + watch; the charming Marquise tried the experiment of fastening her bonnet + strings, and made as if she would go. But she did not go, and the notary, + blind and deaf, and delighted with himself, was quite convinced that his + interesting conversational powers were sufficient to keep the lady on the + spot. + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly have that woman for a client,” said he to himself. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the Marquise stood, putting on her gloves, twisting her fingers, + looking from the equally impatient Marquis de Vandenesse to the lawyer, + still pounding away. At every pause in the worthy man’s fire of witticisms + the charming pair heaved a sigh of relief, and their looks said plainly, + “At last! He is really going!” + </p> + <p> + Nothing of the kind. It was a nightmare which could only end in + exasperating the two impassioned creatures, on whom the lawyer had + something of the fascinating effect of a snake on a pair of birds; before + long they would be driven to cut him short. + </p> + <p> + The clever notary was giving them the history of the discreditable ways in + which one du Tillet (a stockbroker then much in favor) had laid the + foundations of his fortune; all the ins and outs of the whole disgraceful + business were accurately put before them; and the narrator was in the very + middle of his tale when M. de Vandenesse heard the clock strike nine. Then + it became clear to him that his legal adviser was very emphatically an + idiot who must be sent forthwith about his business. He stopped him + resolutely with a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “The tongs, my lord Marquis?” queried the notary, handing the object in + question to his client. + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur, I am compelled to send you away. Mme. d’Aiglemont wishes to + join her children, and I shall have the honor of escorting her.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine o’clock already! Time goes like a shadow in pleasant company,” said + the man of law, who had talked on end for the past hour. + </p> + <p> + He looked for his hat, planted himself before the fire, with a suppressed + hiccough; and, without heeding the Marquise’s withering glances, spoke + once more to his impatient client: + </p> + <p> + “To sum up, my lord Marquis. Business before all things. To-morrow, then, + we must subpoena your brother; we will proceed to make out the inventory, + and faith, after that——” + </p> + <p> + So ill had the lawyer understood his instructions, that his impression was + the exact opposite to the one intended. It was a delicate matter, and + Vandenesse, in spite of himself, began to put the thick-headed notary + right. The discussion which followed took up a certain amount of time. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” the diplomatist said at last at a sign from the lady, “You are + puzzling my brains; come back to-morrow, and if the writ is not issued by + noon to-morrow, the days of grace will expire, and then—” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, a carriage entered the courtyard. The poor woman turned + sharply away at the sound to hide the tears in her eyes. The Marquis rang + to give the servant orders to say that he was not at home; but before the + footman could answer the bell, the lady’s husband reappeared. He had + returned unexpectedly from the Gaieté, and held both children by the hand. + The little girl’s eyes were red; the boy was fretful and very cross. + </p> + <p> + “What can have happened?” asked the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you by and by,” said the General, and catching a glimpse + through an open door of newspapers on the table in the adjoining + sitting-room, he went off. The Marquise, at the end of her patience, flung + herself down on the sofa in desperation. The notary, thinking it incumbent + upon him to be amiable with the children, spoke to the little boy in an + insinuating tone: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my little man, and what is there on at the theatre?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>The Valley of the Torrent</i>,” said Gustave sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word and honor,” declared the notary, “authors nowadays are half + crazy. <i>The Valley of the Torrent</i>! Why not the Torrent of the + Valley? It is conceivable that a valley might be without a torrent in it; + now if they had said the Torrent of the Valley, that would have been + something clear, something precise, something definite and comprehensible. + But never mind that. Now, how is the drama to take place in a torrent and + in a valley? You will tell me that in these days the principal attraction + lies in the scenic effect, and the title is a capital advertisement.—And + did you enjoy it, my little friend?” he continued, sitting down before the + child. + </p> + <p> + When the notary pursued his inquiries as to the possibilities of a drama + in the bed of a torrent, the little girl turned slowly away and began to + cry. Her mother did not notice this in her intense annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, monsieur, I enjoyed it very much,” said the child. “There is a + dear little boy in the play, and he was all alone in the world, because + his papa could not have been his real papa. And when he came to the top of + the bridge over the torrent, a big, naughty man with a beard, dressed all + in black, came and threw him into the water. And then Hélène began to sob + and cry, and everybody scolded us, and father brought us away quick, quick——” + </p> + <p> + M. de Vandenesse and the Marquise looked on in dull amazement, as if all + power to think or move had been suddenly paralyzed. + </p> + <p> + “Do be quiet, Gustave!” cried the General. “I told you that you were not + to talk about anything that happened at the play, and you have forgotten + what I said already.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lord Marquis, your lordship must excuse him,” cried the notary. “I + ought not to have asked questions, but I had no idea—” + </p> + <p> + “He ought not to have answered them,” said the General, looking sternly at + the child. + </p> + <p> + It seemed that the Marquise and the master of the house both perfectly + understood why the children had come back so suddenly. Mme. d’Aiglemont + looked at her daughter, and rose as if to go to her, but a terrible + convulsion passed over her face, and all that could be read in it was + relentless severity. + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Hélène,” she said. “Go into the other room, and leave off + crying.” + </p> + <p> + “What can she have done, poor child!” asked the notary, thinking to + appease the mother’s anger and to stop Hélène’s tears at one stroke. “So + pretty as she is, she must be as good as can be; never anything but a joy + to her mother, I will be bound. Isn’t that so, my little girl?” + </p> + <p> + Hélène cowered, looked at her mother, dried her eyes, struggled for + composure, and took refuge in the next room. + </p> + <p> + “And you, madame, are too good a mother not to love all your children + alike. You are too good a woman, besides, to have any of those lamentable + preferences which have such fatal effects, as we lawyers have only too + much reason to know. Society goes through our hands; we see its passions + in that most revolting form, greed. Here it is the mother of a family + trying to disinherit her husband’s children to enrich the others whom she + loves better; or it is the husband who tries to leave all his property to + the child who has done his best to earn his mother’s hatred. And then + begin quarrels, and fears, and deeds, and defeasances, and sham sales, and + trusts, and all the rest of it; a pretty mess, in fact, it is pitiable, + upon my honor, pitiable! There are fathers that will spend their whole + lives in cheating their children and robbing their wives. Yes, robbing is + the only word for it. We were talking of tragedy; oh! I can assure you of + this that if we were at liberty to tell the real reasons of some donations + that I know of, our modern dramatists would have the material for some + sensational <i>bourgeois</i> dramas. How the wife manages to get her way, + as she invariably does, I cannot think; for in spite of appearances, and + in spite of their weakness, it is always the women who carry the day. Ah! + by the way, they don’t take <i>me</i> in. I always know the reason at the + bottom of those predilections which the world politely styles + ‘unaccountable.’ But in justice to the husbands, I must say that <i>they</i> + never discover anything. You will tell me that this is a merciful dispens—” + </p> + <p> + Hélène had come back to the drawing-room with her father, and was + listening attentively. So well did she understand all that was said, that + she gave her mother a frightened glance, feeling, with a child’s quick + instinct, that these remarks would aggravate the punishment hanging over + her. The Marquise turned her white face to Vandenesse; and, with terror in + her eyes, indicated her husband, who stood with his eyes fixed absently on + the flower pattern of the carpet. The diplomatist, accomplished man of the + world though he was, could no longer contain his wrath, he gave the man of + law a withering glance. + </p> + <p> + “Step this way, sir,” he said, and he went hurriedly to the door of the + ante-chamber; the notary left his sentence half finished, and followed, + quaking, and the husband and wife were left together. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir” said the Marquise de Vandenesse—he banged the + drawing-room door, and spoke with concentrated rage—“ever since + dinner you have done nothing but make blunders and talk folly. For + heaven’s sake, go. You will make the most frightful mischief before you + have done. If you are a clever man in your profession, keep to your + profession; and if by any chance you should go into society, endeavor to + be more circumspect.” + </p> + <p> + With that he went back to the drawing-room, and did not even wish the + notary good-evening. For a moment that worthy stood dumfounded, + bewildered, utterly at a loss. Then, when the buzzing in his ears + subsided, he thought he heard someone moaning in the next room. Footsteps + came and went, and bells were violently rung. He was by no means anxious + to meet the Marquis again, and found the use of his legs to make good his + escape, only to run against a hurrying crowd of servants at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Just the way of all these grand folk,” said he to himself outside in the + street as he looked about for a cab. “They lead you on to talk with + compliments, and you think you are amusing them. Not a bit of it. They + treat you insolently; put you at a distance; even put you out at the door + without scruple. After all, I talked very cleverly, I said nothing but + what was sensible, well turned, and discreet; and, upon my word, he + advises me to be more circumspect in future. I will take good care of + that! Eh! the mischief take it! I am a notary and a member of my chamber!—Pshaw! + it was an ambassador’s fit of temper, nothing is sacred for people of that + kind. To-morrow he shall explain what he meant by saying that I had done + nothing but blunder and talk nonsense in his house. I will ask him for an + explanation—that is, I will ask him to explain my mistake. After all + is done and said, I am in the wrong perhaps—— Upon my word, it + is very good of me to cudgel my brains like this. What business is it of + mine?” + </p> + <p> + So the notary went home and laid the enigma before his spouse, with a + complete account of the evening’s events related in sequence. + </p> + <p> + And she replied, “My dear Crottat, His Excellency was perfectly right when + he said that you had done nothing but blunder and talk folly.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, if I told you why, it would not prevent you from doing the same + thing somewhere else to-morrow. I tell you again—talk of nothing but + business when you go out; that is my advice to you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will not tell me, I shall ask him to-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, dear me! the veriest noodle is careful to hide a thing of that kind, + and do you suppose that an ambassador will tell you about it? Really, + Crottat, I have never known you so utterly devoid of common-sense.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + V. TWO MEETINGS + </h2> + <p> + One of Napoleon’s orderly staff-officers, who shall be known in this + history only as the General or the Marquis, had come to spend the spring + at Versailles. He made a large fortune under the Restoration; and as his + place at Court would not allow him to go very far from Paris, he had taken + a country house between the church and the barrier of Montreuil, on the + road that leads to the Avenue de Saint-Cloud. + </p> + <p> + The house had been built originally as a retreat for the short-lived loves + of some <i>grand seigneur</i>. The grounds were very large; the gardens on + either side extending from the first houses of Montreuil to the thatched + cottages near the barrier, so that the owner could enjoy all the pleasures + of solitude with the city almost at his gates. By an odd piece of + contradiction, the whole front of the house itself, with the principal + entrance, gave directly upon the street. Perhaps in time past it was a + tolerably lonely road, and indeed this theory looks all the more probable + when one comes to think of it; for not so very far away, on this same + road, Louis Quinze built a delicious summer villa for Mlle. de Romans, and + the curious in such things will discover that the wayside <i>casinos</i> + are adorned in a style that recalls traditions of the ingenious taste + displayed in debauchery by our ancestors who, with all the license paid to + their charge, sought to invest it with secrecy and mystery. + </p> + <p> + One winter evening the family were by themselves in the lonely house. The + servants had received permission to go to Versailles to celebrate the + wedding of one of their number. It was Christmas time, and the holiday + makers, presuming upon the double festival, did not scruple to outstay + their leave of absence; yet, as the General was well known to be a man of + his word, the culprits felt some twinges of conscience as they danced on + after the hour of return. The clocks struck eleven, and still there was no + sign of the servants. + </p> + <p> + A deep silence prevailed over the country-side, broken only by the sound + of the northeast wind whistling through the black branches, wailing about + the house, dying in gusts along the corridors. The hard frost had purified + the air, and held the earth in its grip; the roads gave back every sound + with the hard metallic ring which always strikes us with a new surprise; + the heavy footsteps of some belated reveler, or a cab returning to Paris, + could be heard for a long distance with unwonted distinctness. Out in the + courtyard a few dead leaves set a-dancing by some eddying gust found a + voice for the night which fain had been silent. It was, in fact, one of + those sharp, frosty evenings that wring barren expressions of pity from + our selfish ease for wayfarers and the poor, and fills us with a luxurious + sense of the comfort of the fireside. + </p> + <p> + But the family party in the salon at that hour gave not a thought to + absent servants nor houseless folk, nor to the gracious charm with which a + winter evening sparkles. No one played the philosopher out of season. + Secure in the protection of an old soldier, women and children gave + themselves up to the joys of home life, so delicious when there is no + restraint upon feeling; and talk and play and glances are bright with + frankness and affection. + </p> + <p> + The General sat, or more properly speaking, lay buried, in the depths of a + huge, high-back armchair by the hearth. The heaped-up fire burned + scorching clear with the excessive cold of the night. The good father + leaned his head slightly to one side against the back of the chair, in the + indolence of perfect serenity and a glow of happiness. The languid, + half-sleepy droop of his outstretched arms seemed to complete his + expression of placid content. He was watching his youngest, a boy of five + or thereabouts, who, half clad as he was, declined to allow his mother to + undress him. The little one fled from the night-gown and cap with which he + was threatened now and again, and stoutly declined to part with his + embroidered collar, laughing when his mother called to him, for he saw + that she too was laughing at this declaration of infant independence. The + next step was to go back to a game of romps with his sister. She was as + much a child as he, but more mischievous; and she was older by two years, + and could speak distinctly already, whereas his inarticulate words and + confused ideas were a puzzle even to his parents. Little Moïna’s + playfulness, somewhat coquettish already, provoked inextinguishable + laughter, explosions of merriment which went off like fireworks for no + apparent cause. As they tumbled about before the fire, unconcernedly + displaying little plump bodies and delicate white contours, as the dark + and golden curls mingled in a collision of rosy cheeks dimpled with + childish glee, a father surely, a mother most certainly, must have + understood those little souls, and seen the character and power of passion + already developed for their eyes. As the cherubs frolicked about, + struggling, rolling, and tumbling without fear of hurt on the soft carpet, + its flowers looked pale beside the glowing white and red of their cheeks + and the brilliant color of their shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + On the sofa by the fire, opposite the great armchair, the children’s + mother sat among a heap of scattered garments, with a little scarlet shoe + in her hand. She seemed to have given herself up completely to the + enjoyment of the moment; wavering discipline had relaxed into a sweet + smile engraved upon her lips. At the age of six-and-thirty, or + thereabouts, she was a beautiful woman still, by reason of the rare + perfection of the outlines of her face, and at this moment light and + warmth and happiness filled it with preternatural brightness. + </p> + <p> + Again and again her eyes wandered from her children, and their tender gaze + was turned upon her husband’s grave face; and now and again the eyes of + husband and wife met with a silent exchange of happiness and thoughts from + some inner depth. + </p> + <p> + The General’s face was deeply bronzed, a stray lock of gray hair scored + shadows on his forehead. The reckless courage of the battlefield could be + read in the lines carved in his hollow cheeks, and gleams of rugged + strength in the blue eyes; clearly the bit of red ribbon flaunting at his + button-hole had been paid for by hardship and toil. An inexpressible + kindliness and frankness shone out of the strong, resolute face which + reflected his children’s merriment; the gray-haired captain found it not + so very hard to become a child again. Is there not always a little love of + children in the heart of a soldier who has seen enough of the seamy side + of life to know something of the piteous limitations of strength and the + privileges of weakness? + </p> + <p> + At a round table rather further away, in a circle of bright lamplight that + dimmed the feebler illumination of the wax candles on the chimney-piece, + sat a boy of thirteen, rapidly turning the pages of a thick volume which + he was reading, undisturbed by the shouts of the children. There was a + boy’s curiosity in his face. From his <i>lycéens</i> uniform he was + evidently a schoolboy, and the book he was reading was the <i>Arabian + Nights</i>. Small wonder that he was deeply absorbed. He sat perfectly + still in a meditative attitude, with his elbow on the table, and his hand + propping his head—the white fingers contrasting strongly with the + brown hair into which they were thrust. As he sat, with the light turned + full upon his face, and the rest of his body in shadow, he looked like one + of Raphael’s dark portraits of himself—a bent head and intent eyes + filled with visions of the future. + </p> + <p> + Between the table and the Marquise a tall, beautiful girl sat at her + tapestry frame; sometimes she drew back from her work, sometimes she bent + over it, and her hair, picturesque in its ebony smoothness and darkness, + caught the light of the lamp. Hélène was a picture in herself. In her + beauty there was a rare distinctive character of power and refinement. + Though her hair was gathered up and drawn back from her face, so as to + trace a clearly marked line about her head, so thick and abundant was it, + so recalcitrant to the comb, that it sprang back in curl-tendrils to the + nape of her neck. The bountiful line of eyebrows was evenly marked out in + dark contrasting outline upon her pure forehead. On her upper lip, beneath + the Grecian nose with its sensitively perfect curve of nostril, there lay + a faint, swarthy shadow, the sign-manual of courage; but the enchanting + roundness of contour, the frankly innocent expression of her other + features, the transparence of the delicate carnations, the voluptuous + softness of the lips, the flawless oval of the outline of the face, and + with these, and more than all these, the saintlike expression in the + girlish eyes, gave to her vigorous loveliness the distinctive touch of + feminine grace, that enchanting modesty which we look for in these angels + of peace and love. Yet there was no suggestion of fragility about her; + and, surely, with so grand a woman’s frame, so attractive a face, she must + possess a corresponding warmth of heart and strength of soul. + </p> + <p> + She was as silent as her schoolboy brother. Seemingly a prey to the + fateful maiden meditations which baffle a father’s penetration and even a + mother’s sagacity, it was impossible to be certain whether it was the + lamplight that cast those shadows that flitted over her face like thin + clouds over a bright sky, or whether they were passing shades of secret + and painful thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Husband and wife had quite forgotten the two older children at that + moment, though now and again the General’s questioning glance traveled to + that second mute picture; a larger growth, a gracious realization, as it + were, of the hopes embodied in the baby forms rioting in the foreground. + Their faces made up a kind of living poem, illustrating life’s various + phases. The luxurious background of the salon, the different attitudes, + the strong contrasts of coloring in the faces, differing with the + character of differing ages, the modeling of the forms brought into high + relief by the light—altogether it was a page of human life, richly + illuminated beyond the art of painter, sculptor, or poet. Silence, + solitude, night and winter lent a final touch of majesty to complete the + simplicity and sublimity of this exquisite effect of nature’s contriving. + Married life is full of these sacred hours, which perhaps owe their + indefinable charm to some vague memory of a better world. A divine + radiance surely shines upon them, the destined compensation for some + portion of earth’s sorrows, the solace which enables man to accept life. + We seem to behold a vision of an enchanted universe, the great conception + of its system widens out before our eyes, and social life pleads for its + laws by bidding us look to the future. + </p> + <p> + Yet in spite of the tender glances that Hélène gave Abel and Moïna after a + fresh outburst of merriment; in spite of the look of gladness in her + transparent face whenever she stole a glance at her father, a deep + melancholy pervaded her gestures, her attitude, and more than all, her + eyes veiled by their long lashes. Those white, strong hands, through which + the light passed, tinting them with a diaphanous, almost fluid red—those + hands were trembling. Once only did the eyes of the mother and daughter + clash without shrinking, and the two women read each other’s thoughts in a + look, cold, wan, and respectful on Hélène’s part, sombre and threatening + on her mother’s. At once Hélène’s eyes were lowered to her work, she plied + her needle swiftly, and it was long before she raised her head, bowed as + it seemed by a weight of thought too heavy to bear. Was the Marquise over + harsh with this one of her children? Did she think this harshness needful? + Was she jealous of Hélène’s beauty?—She might still hope to rival + Hélène, but only by the magic arts of the toilette. Or again, had her + daughter, like many a girl who reaches the clairvoyant age, read the + secrets which this wife (to all appearance so religiously faithful in the + fulfilment of her duties) believed to be buried in her own heart as deeply + as in a grave? + </p> + <p> + Hélène had reached an age when purity of soul inclines to pass over-rigid + judgments. A certain order of mind is apt to exaggerate transgression into + crime; imagination reacts upon conscience, and a young girl is a hard + judge because she magnifies the seriousness of the offence. Hélène seemed + to think herself worthy of no one. Perhaps there was a secret in her past + life, perhaps something had happened, unintelligible to her at the time, + but with gradually developing significance for a mind grown susceptible to + religious influences; something which lately seemed to have degraded her, + as it were, in her own eyes, and according to her own romantic standard. + This change in her demeanor dated from the day of reading Schiller’s noble + tragedy of <i>Wilhelm Tell</i> in a new series of translations. Her mother + scolded her for letting the book fall, and then remarked to herself that + the passage which had so worked on Hélène’s feelings was the scene in + which Wilhelm Tell, who spilt the blood of a tyrant to save a nation, + fraternizes in some sort with John the Parricide. Hélène had grown humble, + dutiful, and self-contained; she no longer cared for gaiety. Never had she + made so much of her father, especially when the Marquise was not by to + watch her girlish caresses. And yet, if Hélène’s affection for her mother + had cooled at all, the change in her manner was so slight as to be almost + imperceptible; so slight that the General could not have noticed it, + jealous though he might be of the harmony of home. No masculine insight + could have sounded the depths of those two feminine natures; the one was + young and generous, the other sensitive and proud; the first had a wealth + of indulgence in her nature, the second was full of craft and love. If the + Marquise made her daughter’s life a burden to her by a woman’s subtle + tyranny, it was a tyranny invisible to all but the victim; and for the + rest, these conjectures only called forth after the event must remain + conjectures. Until this night no accusing flash of light had escaped + either of them, but an ominous mystery was too surely growing up between + them, a mystery known only to themselves and God. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Abel,” called the Marquise, seizing on her opportunity when the + children were tired of play and still for a moment. “Come, come, child; + you must be put to bed—” + </p> + <p> + And with a glance that must be obeyed, she caught him up and took him on + her knee. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed the General. “Half-past ten o’clock, and not one of the + servants has come back! The rascals!—Gustave,” he added, turning to + his son, “I allowed you to read that book only on the condition that you + should put it away at ten o’clock. You ought to have shut up the book at + the proper time and gone to bed, as you promised. If you mean to make your + mark in the world, you must keep your word; let it be a second religion to + you, and a point of honor. Fox, one of the greatest English orators, was + remarkable, above all things, for the beauty of his character, and the + very first of his qualities was the scrupulous faithfulness with which he + kept his engagements. When he was a child, his father (an Englishman of + the old school) gave him a pretty strong lesson which he never forgot. + Like most rich Englishmen, Fox’s father had a country house and a + considerable park about it. Now, in the park there was an old + summer-house, and orders had been given that this summer-house was to be + pulled down and put up somewhere else where there was a finer view. Fox + was just about your age, and had come home for the holidays. Boys are fond + of seeing things pulled to pieces, so young Fox asked to stay on at home + for a few days longer to see the old summer-house taken down; but his + father said that he must go back to school on the proper day, so there was + anger between father and son. Fox’s mother (like all mammas) took the + boy’s part. Then the father solemnly promised that the summer-house should + stay where it was till the next holidays. + </p> + <p> + “So Fox went back to school; and his father, thinking that lessons would + soon drive the whole thing out of the boy’s mind, had the summer-house + pulled down and put up in the new position. But as it happened, the + persistent youngster thought of nothing but that summer-house; and as soon + as he came home again, his first care was to go out to look at the old + building, and he came in to breakfast looking quite doleful, and said to + his father, ‘You have broken your promise.’ The old English gentleman said + with confusion full of dignity, ‘That is true, my boy; but I will make + amends. A man ought to think of keeping his word before he thinks of his + fortune; for by keeping his word he will gain fortune, while all the + fortunes in the world will not efface the stain left on your conscience by + a breach of faith.’ Then he gave orders that the summer-house should be + put up again in the old place, and when it had been rebuilt he had it + taken down again for his son to see. Let this be a lesson to <i>you</i>, + Gustave.” + </p> + <p> + Gustave had been listening with interest, and now he closed the book at + once. There was a moment’s silence, while the General took possession of + Moïna, who could scarcely keep her eyes open. The little one’s languid + head fell back on her father’s breast, and in a moment she was fast + asleep, wrapped round about in her golden curls. + </p> + <p> + Just then a sound of hurrying footsteps rang on the pavement out in the + street, immediately followed by three knocks on the street door, waking + the echoes of the house. The reverberating blows told, as plainly as a cry + for help that here was a man flying for his life. The house dog barked + furiously. A thrill of excitement ran through Hélène and Gustave and the + General and his wife; but neither Abel, with the night-cap strings just + tied under his chin, nor Moïna awoke. + </p> + <p> + “The fellow is in a hurry!” exclaimed the General. He put the little girl + down on the chair, and hastened out of the room, heedless of his wife’s + entreating cry, “Dear, do not go down—” + </p> + <p> + He stepped into his own room for a pair of pistols, lighted a dark + lantern, sprang at lightning speed down the staircase, and in another + minute reached the house door, his oldest boy fearlessly following. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” demanded he. + </p> + <p> + “Let me in,” panted a breathless voice. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! But let me in; <i>they</i> are after me!” + </p> + <p> + The General had scarcely set the door ajar before a man slipped into the + porch with the uncanny swiftness of a shadow. Before the master of the + house could prevent him, the intruder had closed the door with a + well-directed kick, and set his back against it resolutely, as if he were + determined that it should not be opened again. In a moment the General had + his lantern and pistol at a level with the stranger’s breast, and beheld a + man of medium height in a fur-lined pelisse. It was an old man’s garment, + both too large and too long for its present wearer. Chance or caution had + slouched the man’s hat over his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You can lower your pistol, sir,” said this person. “I do not claim to + stay in your house against your will; but if I leave it, death is waiting + for me at the barrier. And what a death! You would be answerable to God + for it! I ask for your hospitality for two hours. And bear this in mind, + sir, that, suppliant as I am, I have a right to command with the despotism + of necessity. I want the Arab’s hospitality. Either I and my secret must + be inviolable, or open the door and I will go to my death. I want secrecy, + a safe hiding-place, and water. Oh! water!” he cried again, with a rattle + in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” demanded the General, taken aback by the stranger’s + feverish volubility. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! who am I? Good, open the door, and I will put a distance between us,” + retorted the other, and there was a diabolical irony in his tone. + </p> + <p> + Dexterously as the Marquis passed the light of the lantern over the man’s + face, he could only see the lower half of it, and that in nowise + prepossessed him in favor of this singular claimant of hospitality. The + cheeks were livid and quivering, the features dreadfully contorted. Under + the shadow of the hat-brim a pair of eyes gleamed out like flames; the + feeble candle-light looked almost dim in comparison. Some sort of answer + must be made however. + </p> + <p> + “Your language, sir, is so extraordinary that in my place you yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “My life is in your hands!” the intruder broke in. The sound of his voice + was dreadful to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Two hours?” said the Marquis, wavering. + </p> + <p> + “Two hours,” echoed the other. + </p> + <p> + Then quite suddenly, with a desperate gesture, he pushed back his hat and + left his forehead bare, and, as if he meant to try a final expedient, he + gave the General a glance that seemed to plunge like a vivid flash into + his very soul. That electrical discharge of intelligence and will was + swift as lightning and crushing as a thunderbolt; for there are moments + when a human being is invested for a brief space with inexplicable power. + </p> + <p> + “Come, whoever you may be, you shall be in safety under my roof,” the + master of the house said gravely at last, acting, as he imagined, upon one + of those intuitions which a man cannot always explain to himself. + </p> + <p> + “God will repay you!” said the stranger, with a deep, involuntary sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Have you weapons?” asked the General. + </p> + <p> + For all answer the stranger flung open his fur pelisse, and scarcely gave + the other time for a glance before he wrapped it about him again. To all + appearance he was unarmed and in evening dress. Swift as the soldier’s + scrutiny had been, he saw something, however, which made him exclaim: + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil have you been to get yourself in such a mess in such dry + weather?” + </p> + <p> + “More questions!” said the stranger haughtily. + </p> + <p> + At the words the Marquis caught sight of his son, and his own late homily + on the strict fulfilment of a given word came up to his mind. In lively + vexation, he exclaimed, not without a touch of anger: + </p> + <p> + “What! little rogue, you here when you ought to be in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I thought I might be of some good in danger,” answered Gustave. + </p> + <p> + “There, go up to your room,” said his father, mollified by the reply.—“And + you” (addressing the stranger), “come with me.” + </p> + <p> + The two men grew as silent as a pair of gamblers who watch each other’s + play with mutual suspicions. The General himself began to be troubled with + ugly presentiments. The strange visit weighed upon his mind already like a + nightmare; but he had passed his word, there was no help for it now, and + he led the way along the passages and stairways till they reached a large + room on the second floor immediately above the salon. This was an empty + room where linen was dried in the winter. It had but the one door, and for + all decoration boasted one solitary shabby looking-glass above the + chimney-piece, left by the previous owner, and a great pier glass, placed + provisionally opposite the fireplace until such time as a use should be + found for it in the rooms below. The four yellowish walls were bare. The + floor had never been swept. The huge attic was icy-cold, and the furniture + consisted of a couple of rickety straw-bottomed chairs, or rather frames + of chairs. The General set the lantern down upon the chimney-piece. Then + he spoke: + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary for your own safety to hide you in this comfortless + attic. And, as you have my promise to keep your secret, you will permit me + to lock you in.” + </p> + <p> + The other bent his head in acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + “I asked for nothing but a hiding-place, secrecy, and water,” returned he. + </p> + <p> + “I will bring you some directly,” said the Marquis, shutting the door + cautiously. He groped his way down into the salon for a lamp before going + to the kitchen to look for a carafe. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” the Marquise asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, dear,” he returned coolly. + </p> + <p> + “But we listened, and we certainly heard you go upstairs with somebody.” + </p> + <p> + “Hélène,” said the General, and he looked at his daughter, who raised her + face, “bear in mind that your father’s honor depends upon your discretion. + You must have heard nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The girl bent her head in answer. The Marquise was confused and smarting + inwardly at the way in which her husband had thought fit to silence her. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the General went for the bottle and a tumbler, and returned to + the room above. His prisoner was leaning against the chimney-piece, his + head was bare, he had flung down his hat on one of the two chairs. + Evidently he had not expected to have so bright a light turned upon him, + and he frowned and looked anxious as he met the General’s keen eyes; but + his face softened and wore a gracious expression as he thanked his + protector. When the latter placed the bottle and glass on the + mantel-shelf, the stranger’s eyes flashed out on him again; and when he + spoke, it was in musical tones with no sign of the previous guttural + convulsion, though his voice was still unsteady with repressed emotion. + </p> + <p> + “I shall seem to you to be a strange being, sir, but you must pardon the + caprices of necessity. If you propose to remain in the room, I beg that + you will not look at me while I am drinking.” + </p> + <p> + Vexed at this continual obedience to a man whom he disliked, the General + sharply turned his back upon him. The stranger thereupon drew a white + handkerchief from his pocket and wound it about his right hand. Then he + seized the carafe and emptied it at a draught. The Marquis, staring + vacantly into the tall mirror across the room, without a thought of + breaking his implicit promise, saw the stranger’s figure distinctly + reflected by the opposite looking-glass, and saw, too, a red stain + suddenly appear through the folds of the white bandage. The man’s hands + were steeped in blood. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you saw me!” cried the other. He had drunk off the water and wrapped + himself again in his cloak, and now scrutinized the General suspiciously. + “It is all over with me! Here they come!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t hear anything,” said the Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “You have not the same interest that I have in listening for sounds in the + air.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been fighting a duel, I suppose, to be in such a state?” queried + the General, not a little disturbed by the color of those broad, dark + patches staining his visitor’s cloak. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a duel; you have it,” said the other, and a bitter smile flitted + over his lips. + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a sound rang along the distant road, a sound of galloping + horses; but so faint as yet, that it was the merest dawn of a sound. The + General’s trained ear recognized the advance of a troop of regulars. + </p> + <p> + “That is the gendarmerie,” said he. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at his prisoner to reassure him after his own involuntary + indiscretion, took the lamp, and went down to the salon. He had scarcely + laid the key of the room above upon the chimney-piece when the hoof beats + sounded louder and came swiftly nearer and nearer the house. The General + felt a shiver of excitement, and indeed the horses stopped at the house + door; a few words were exchanged among the men, and one of them dismounted + and knocked loudly. There was no help for it; the General went to open the + door. He could scarcely conceal his inward perturbation at the sight of + half a dozen gendarmes outside, the metal rims of their caps gleaming like + silver in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the corporal, “have you heard a man run past towards the + barrier within the last few minutes?” + </p> + <p> + “Towards the barrier? No.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you opened the door to any one?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, am I in the habit of answering the door myself—” + </p> + <p> + “I ask your pardon, General, but just now it seems to me that—” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” cried the Marquis wrathfully. “Have you a mind to try joking + with me? What right have you—?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all, none at all, my lord,” cried the corporal, hastily putting + in a soft answer. “You will excuse our zeal. We know, of course, that a + peer of France is not likely to harbor a murderer at this time of night; + but as we want any information we can get—” + </p> + <p> + “A murderer!” cried the General. “Who can have been—” + </p> + <p> + “M. le Baron de Mauny has just been murdered. It was a blow from an axe, + and we are in hot pursuit of the criminal. We know for certain that he is + somewhere in this neighborhood, and we shall hunt him down. By your leave, + General,” and the man swung himself into the saddle as he spoke. It was + well that he did so, for a corporal of gendarmerie trained to alert + observation and quick surmise would have had his suspicions at once if he + had caught sight of the General’s face. Everything that passed through the + soldier’s mind was faithfully revealed in his frank countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Is it known who the murderer is?” asked he. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the other, now in the saddle. “He left the bureau full of + banknotes and gold untouched.” + </p> + <p> + “It was revenge, then,” said the Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “On an old man? pshaw! No, no, the fellow hadn’t time to take it, that was + all,” and the corporal galloped after his comrades, who were almost out of + sight by this time. + </p> + <p> + For a few minutes the General stood, a victim to perplexities which need + no explanation; but in a moment he heard the servants returning home, + their voices were raised in some sort of dispute at the cross-roads of + Montreuil. When they came in, he gave vent to his feelings in an explosion + of rage, his wrath fell upon them like a thunderbolt, and all the echoes + of the house trembled at the sound of his voice. In the midst of the storm + his own man, the boldest and cleverest of the party, brought out an + excuse; they had been stopped, he said, by the gendarmerie at the gate of + Montreuil, a murder had been committed, and the police were in pursuit. In + a moment the General’s anger vanished, he said not another word; then, + bethinking himself of his own singular position, drily ordered them all + off to bed at once, and left them amazed at his readiness to accept their + fellow servant’s lying excuse. + </p> + <p> + While these incidents took place in the yard, an apparently trifling + occurrence had changed the relative positions of three characters in this + story. The Marquis had scarcely left the room before his wife looked first + towards the key on the mantel-shelf, and then at Hélène; and, after some + wavering, bent towards her daughter and said in a low voice, “Hélène your + father has left the key on the chimney-piece.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked up in surprise and glanced timidly at her mother. The + Marquise’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mamma?” she said, and her voice had a troubled ring. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know what is going on upstairs. If there is anybody up + there, he has not stirred yet. Just go up—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>?” cried the girl, with something like horror in her tones. + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mamma, but I thought I heard a man’s footsteps.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could go myself, I should not have asked you to go, Hélène,” said + her mother with cold dignity. “If your father were to come back and did + not see me, he would go to look for me perhaps, but he would not notice + your absence.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, if you bid me go, I will go,” said Hélène, “but I shall lose my + father’s good opinion—” + </p> + <p> + “What is this!” cried the Marquise in a sarcastic tone. “But since you + take a thing that was said in joke in earnest, I now <i>order</i> you to + go upstairs and see who is in the room above. Here is the key, child. When + your father told you to say nothing about this thing that happened, he did + not forbid you to go up to the room. Go at once—and learn that a + daughter ought never to judge her mother.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were spoken with all the severity of a justly offended + mother. The Marquise took the key and handed it to Hélène, who rose + without a word and left the room. + </p> + <p> + “My mother can always easily obtain her pardon,” thought the girl; “but as + for me, my father will never think the same of me again. Does she mean to + rob me of his tenderness? Does she want to turn me out of his house?” + </p> + <p> + These were the thoughts that set her imagination in a sudden ferment, as + she went down the dark passage to the mysterious door at the end. When she + stood before it, her mental confusion grew to a fateful pitch. Feelings + hitherto forced down into inner depths crowded up at the summons of these + confused thoughts. Perhaps hitherto she had never believed that a happy + life lay before her, but now, in this awful moment, her despair was + complete. She shook convulsively as she set the key in the lock; so great + indeed was her agitation, that she stopped for a moment and laid her hand + on her heart, as if to still the heavy throbs that sounded in her ears. + Then she opened the door. + </p> + <p> + The creaking of the hinges sounded doubtless in vain on the murderer’s + ears. Acute as were his powers of hearing, he stood as if lost in thought, + and so motionless that he might have been glued to the wall against which + he leaned. In the circle of semi-opaque darkness, dimly lit by the + bull’s-eye lantern, he looked like the shadowy figure of some dead knight, + standing for ever in his shadowy mortuary niche in the gloom of some + Gothic chapel. Drops of cold sweat trickled over the broad, sallow + forehead. An incredible fearlessness looked out from every tense feature. + His eyes of fire were fixed and tearless; he seemed to be watching some + struggle in the darkness beyond him. Stormy thoughts passed swiftly across + a face whose firm decision spoke of a character of no common order. His + whole person, bearing, and frame bore out the impression of a tameless + spirit. The man looked power and strength personified; he stood facing the + darkness as if it were the visible image of his own future. + </p> + <p> + These physical characteristics had made no impression upon the General, + familiar as he was with the powerful faces of the group of giants gathered + about Napoleon; speculative curiosity, moreover, as to the why and + wherefore of the apparition had completely filled his mind; but Hélène, + with feminine sensitiveness to surface impressions, was struck by the + blended chaos of light and darkness, grandeur and passion, suggesting a + likeness between this stranger and Lucifer recovering from his fall. + Suddenly the storm apparent in his face was stilled as if by magic; and + the indefinable power to sway which the stranger exercised upon others, + and perhaps unconsciously and as by reflex action upon himself, spread its + influence about him with the progressive swiftness of a flood. A torrent + of thought rolled away from his brow as his face resumed its ordinary + expression. Perhaps it was the strangeness of this meeting, or perhaps it + was the mystery into which she had penetrated, that held the young girl + spellbound in the doorway, so that she could look at a face pleasant to + behold and full of interest. For some moments she stood in the magical + silence; a trouble had come upon her never known before in her young life. + Perhaps some exclamation broke from Hélène, perhaps she moved + unconsciously; or it may be that the hunted criminal returned of his own + accord from the world of ideas to the material world, and heard some one + breathing in the room; however it was, he turned his head towards his + host’s daughter, and saw dimly in the shadow a noble face and queenly + form, which he must have taken for an angel’s, so motionless she stood, so + vague and like a spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur...” a trembling voice cried. + </p> + <p> + The murderer trembled. + </p> + <p> + “A woman!” he cried under his breath. “Is it possible? Go,” he cried, “I + deny that any one has a right to pity, to absolve, or condemn me. I must + live alone. Go, my child,” he added, with an imperious gesture, “I should + ill requite the service done me by the master of the house if I were to + allow a single creature under his roof to breathe the same air with me. I + must submit to be judged by the laws of the world.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were uttered in a lower voice. Even as he realized with a + profound intuition all the manifold misery awakened by that melancholy + thought, the glance that he gave Hélène had something of the power of the + serpent, stirring a whole dormant world in the mind of the strange girl + before him. To her that glance was like a light revealing unknown lands. + She was stricken with strange trouble, helpless, quelled by a magnetic + power exerted unconsciously. Trembling and ashamed, she went out and + returned to the salon. She had scarcely entered the room before her father + came back, so that she had not time to say a word to her mother. + </p> + <p> + The General was wholly absorbed in thought. He folded his arms, and paced + silently to and fro between the windows which looked out upon the street + and the second row which gave upon the garden. His wife lay the sleeping + Abel on her knee, and little Moïna lay in untroubled slumber in the low + chair, like a bird in its nest. Her older sister stared into the fire, a + skein of silk in one hand, a needle in the other. + </p> + <p> + Deep silence prevailed, broken only by lagging footsteps on the stairs, as + one by one the servants crept away to bed; there was an occasional burst + of stifled laughter, a last echo of the wedding festivity, or doors were + opened as they still talked among themselves, then shut. A smothered sound + came now and again from the bedrooms, a chair fell, the old coachman + coughed feebly, then all was silent. + </p> + <p> + In a little while the dark majesty with which sleeping earth is invested + at midnight brought all things under its sway. No lights shone but the + light of the stars. The frost gripped the ground. There was not a sound of + a voice, nor a living creature stirring. The crackling of the fire only + seemed to make the depth of the silence more fully felt. + </p> + <p> + The church clock of Montreuil had just struck one, when an almost + inaudible sound of a light footstep came from the second flight of stairs. + The Marquis and his daughter, both believing that M. de Mauny’s murderer + was a prisoner above, thought that one of the maids had come down, and no + one was at all surprised to hear the door open in the ante-chamber. Quite + suddenly the murderer appeared in their midst. The Marquis himself was + sunk in deep musings, the mother and daughter were silent, the one from + keen curiosity, the other from sheer astonishment, so that the visitor was + almost half-way across the room when he spoke to the General. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, the two hours are almost over,” he said, in a voice that was + strangely calm and musical. + </p> + <p> + “<i>You here</i>!” cried the General. “By what means——?” and + he gave wife and daughter a formidable questioning glance. Hélène grew red + as fire. + </p> + <p> + “You!” he went on, in a tone filled with horror. “<i>You</i> among us! A + murderer covered with blood! You are a blot on this picture! Go, go out!” + he added in a burst of rage. + </p> + <p> + At that word “murderer,” the Marquise cried out; as for Hélène, it seemed + to mark an epoch in her life, there was not a trace of surprise in her + face. She looked as if she had been waiting for this—for him. Those + so vast thoughts of hers had found a meaning. The punishment reserved by + Heaven for her sins flamed out before her. In her own eyes she was as + great a criminal as this murderer; she confronted him with her quiet gaze; + she was his fellow, his sister. It seemed to her that in this accident the + command of God had been made manifest. If she had been a few years older, + reason would have disposed of her remorse, but at this moment she was like + one distraught. + </p> + <p> + The stranger stood impassive and self-possessed; a scornful smile + overspread his features and his thick, red lips. + </p> + <p> + “You appreciate the magnanimity of my behavior very badly,” he said + slowly. “I would not touch with my fingers the glass of water you brought + me to allay my thirst; I did not so much as think of washing my + blood-stained hands under your roof; I am going away, leaving nothing of + <i>my crime</i>” (here his lips were compressed) “but the memory; I have + tried to leave no trace of my presence in this house. Indeed, I would not + even allow your daughter to—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>My daughter</i>!” cried the General, with a horror-stricken glance at + Hélène. “Vile wretch, go, or I will kill you—” + </p> + <p> + “The two hours are not yet over,” said the other; “if you kill me or give + me up, you must lower yourself in your own eyes—and in mine.” + </p> + <p> + At these last words, the General turned to stare at the criminal in dumb + amazement; but he could not endure the intolerable light in those eyes + which for the second time disorganized his being. He was afraid of showing + weakness once more, conscious as he was that his will was weaker already. + </p> + <p> + “An old man! You can never have seen a family,” he said, with a father’s + glance at his wife and children. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, an old man,” echoed the stranger, frowning slightly. + </p> + <p> + “Fly!” cried the General, but he did not dare to look at his guest. “Our + compact is broken. I shall not kill you. No! I will never be purveyor to + the scaffold. But go out. You make us shudder.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said the other patiently. “There is not a spot on French + soil where I can set foot and be safe; but if man’s justice, like God’s, + took all into account, if man’s justice deigned to inquire which was the + monster—the murderer or his victim—then I might hold up my + head among my fellows. Can you not guess that other crimes preceded that + blow from an axe? I constituted myself his judge and executioner; I + stepped in where man’s justice failed. That was my crime. Farewell, sir. + Bitter though you have made your hospitality, I shall not forget it. I + shall always bear in my heart a feeling of gratitude towards one man in + the world, and you are that man.... But I could wish that you had showed + yourself more generous!” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards the door, but in the same instant Hélène leaned to + whisper something in her mother’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!...” + </p> + <p> + At the cry that broke from his wife, the General trembled as if he had + seen Moïna lying dead. There stood Hélène, and the murderer had turned + instinctively, with something like anxiety about these folk in his face. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, dear?” asked the General. + </p> + <p> + “Hélène wants to go with him.” + </p> + <p> + The murderer’s face flushed. + </p> + <p> + “If that is how my mother understands an almost involuntary exclamation,” + Hélène said in a low voice, “I will fulfil her wishes.” She glanced about + her with something like fierce pride; then the girl’s eyes fell, and she + stood, admirable in her modesty. + </p> + <p> + “Hélène, did you go up to the room where——?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Hélène” (and his voice shook with a convulsive tremor), “is this the + first time that you have seen this man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is not natural that you should intend to—” + </p> + <p> + “If it is not natural, father, at any rate it is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! child,” said the Marquise, lowering her voice, but not so much but + that her husband could hear her, “you are false to all the principles of + honor, modesty, and right which I have tried to cultivate in your heart. + If until this fatal hour you life has only been one lie, there is nothing + to regret in your loss. It can hardly be the moral perfection of this + stranger that attracts you to him? Can it be the kind of power that + commits crime? I have too good an opinion of you to suppose that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, suppose everything, madame,” Hélène said coldly. + </p> + <p> + But though her force of character sustained this ordeal, her flashing eyes + could scarcely hold the tears that filled them. The stranger, watching + her, guessed the mother’s language from the girl’s tears, and turned his + eagle glance upon the Marquise. An irresistible power constrained her to + look at this terrible seducer; but as her eyes met his bright, glittering + gaze, she felt a shiver run through her frame, such a shock as we feel at + the sight of a reptile or the contact of a Leyden jar. + </p> + <p> + “Dear!” she cried, turning to her husband, “this is the Fiend himself. He + can divine everything!” + </p> + <p> + The General rose to his feet and went to the bell. + </p> + <p> + “He means ruin for you,” Hélène said to the murderer. + </p> + <p> + The stranger smiled, took one forward stride, grasped the General’s arm, + and compelled him to endure a steady gaze which benumbed the soldier’s + brain and left him powerless. + </p> + <p> + “I will repay you now for your hospitality,” he said, “and then we shall + be quits. I will spare you the shame by giving myself up. After all, what + should I do now with my life?” + </p> + <p> + “You could repent,” answered Hélène, and her glance conveyed such hope as + only glows in a young girl’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I shall never repent</i>,” said the murderer in a sonorous voice, as + he raised his head proudly. + </p> + <p> + “His hands are stained with blood,” the father said. + </p> + <p> + “I will wipe it away,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “But do you so much as know whether he cares for you?” said her father, + not daring now to look at the stranger. + </p> + <p> + The murderer came up a little nearer. Some light within seemed to glow + through Hélène’s beauty, grave and maidenly though it was, coloring and + bringing into relief, as it were, the least details, the most delicate + lines in her face. The stranger, with that terrible face still blazing in + his eyes, gave one tender glance to her enchanting loveliness, then he + spoke, his tones revealing how deeply he had been moved. + </p> + <p> + “And if I refuse to allow this sacrifice of yourself, and so discharge my + debt of two hours of existence to your father; is not this love, love for + yourself alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Then do you too reject me?” Hélène’s cry rang painfully through the + hearts of all who heard her. “Farewell, then, to you all; I will die.” + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” asked the father and mother. + </p> + <p> + Hélène gave her mother an eloquent glance and lowered her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Since the first attempt made by the General and his wife to contest by + word or action the intruder’s strange presumption to the right of staying + in their midst, from their first experience of the power of those + glittering eyes, a mysterious torpor had crept over them, and their + benumbed faculties struggled in vain with the preternatural influence. The + air seemed to have suddenly grown so heavy, that they could scarcely + breathe; yet, while they could not find the reason of this feeling of + oppression, a voice within told them that this magnetic presence was the + real cause of their helplessness. In this moral agony, it flashed across + the General that he must make every effort to overcome this influence on + his daughter’s reeling brain; he caught her by the waist and drew her into + the embrasure of a window, as far as possible from the murderer. + </p> + <p> + “Darling,” he murmured, “if some wild love has been suddenly born in your + heart, I cannot believe that you have not the strength of soul to quell + the mad impulse; your innocent life, your pure and dutiful soul, has given + me too many proofs of your character. There must be something behind all + this. Well, this heart of mine is full of indulgence, you can tell + everything to me; even if it breaks, dear child, I can be silent about my + grief, and keep your confession a secret. What is it? Are you jealous of + our love for your brothers or your little sister? Is it some love trouble? + Are you unhappy here at home? Tell me about it, tell me the reasons that + urge you to leave your home, to rob it of its greatest charm, to leave + your mother and brothers and your little sister?” + </p> + <p> + “I am in love with no one, father, and jealous of no one, not even of your + friend the diplomatist, M. de Vandenesse.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise turned pale; her daughter saw this, and stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Sooner or later I must live under some man’s protection, must I not?” + </p> + <p> + “That is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Do we ever know,” she went on, “the human being to whom we link our + destinies? Now, I believe in this man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, child,” said the General, raising his voice, “you have no idea of all + the misery that lies in store for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking of <i>his</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “What a life!” groaned the father. + </p> + <p> + “A woman’s life,” the girl murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You have a great knowledge of life!” exclaimed the Marquise, finding + speech at last. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, my answers are shaped by the questions; but if you desire it, I + will speak more clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak out, my child... I am a mother.” + </p> + <p> + Mother and daughter looked each other in the face, and the Marquise said + no more. At last she said: + </p> + <p> + “Hélène, if you have any reproaches to make, I would rather bear them than + see you go away with a man from whom the whole world shrinks in horror.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you see yourself, madame, that but for me he would be quite alone.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, madame,” the General cried; “we have but one daughter left + to us now,” and he looked at Moïna, who slept on. “As for you,” he added, + turning to Hélène, “I will put you in a convent.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it, father,” she said, in calm despair, “I shall die there. You are + answerable to God alone for my life and for <i>his</i> soul.” + </p> + <p> + A deep sullen silence fell after these words. The on-lookers during this + strange scene, so utterly at variance with all the sentiments of ordinary + life, shunned each other’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the Marquis happened to glance at his pistols. He caught up one + of them, cocked the weapon, and pointed it at the intruder. At the click + of firearms the other turned his piercing gaze full upon the General; the + soldier’s arm slackened indescribably and fell heavily to his side. The + pistol dropped to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Girl, you are free,” said he, exhausted by this ghastly struggle. “Kiss + your mother, if she will let you kiss her. For my own part, I wish never + to see nor to hear of you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Hélène,” the mother began, “only think of the wretched life before you.” + </p> + <p> + A sort of rattling sound came from the intruder’s deep chest, all eyes + were turned to him. Disdain was plainly visible in his face. + </p> + <p> + The General rose to his feet. “My hospitality has cost me dear,” he cried. + “Before you came you had taken an old man’s life; now you are dealing a + deadly blow at a whole family. Whatever happens, there must be unhappiness + in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “And if your daughter is happy?” asked the other, gazing steadily at the + General. + </p> + <p> + The father made a superhuman effort for self-control. “If she is happy + with you,” he said, “she is not worth regretting.” + </p> + <p> + Hélène knelt timidly before her father. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I love and revere you,” she said, “whether you lavish all the + treasures of your kindness upon me, or make me feel to the full the rigor + of disgrace.... But I entreat that your last words of farewell shall not + be words of anger.” + </p> + <p> + The General could not trust himself to look at her. The stranger came + nearer; there was something half-diabolical, half-divine in the smile that + he gave Hélène. + </p> + <p> + “Angel of pity, you that do not shrink in horror from a murderer, come, + since you persist in your resolution of intrusting your life to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Inconceivable!” cried her father. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise then looked strangely at her daughter, opened her arms, and + Hélène fled to her in tears. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” she said, “farewell, mother!” The stranger trembled as Hélène, + undaunted, made sign to him that she was ready. She kissed her father’s + hand; and, as if performing a duty, gave a hasty kiss to Moïna and little + Abel, then she vanished with the murderer. + </p> + <p> + “Which way are they going?” exclaimed the General, listening to the + footsteps of the two fugitives.—“Madame,” he turned to his wife, “I + think I must be dreaming; there is some mystery behind all this, I do not + understand it; you must know what it means.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise shivered. + </p> + <p> + “For some time past your daughter has grown extraordinarily romantic and + strangely high-flown in her ideas. In spite of the pains I have taken to + combat these tendencies in her character—” + </p> + <p> + “This will not do——” began the General, but fancying that he + heard footsteps in the garden, he broke off to fling open the window. + </p> + <p> + “Hélène!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + His voice was lost in the darkness like a vain prophecy. The utterance of + that name, to which there should never be answer any more, acted like a + counterspell; it broke the charm and set him free from the evil + enchantment which lay upon him. It was as if some spirit passed over his + face. He now saw clearly what had taken place, and cursed his + incomprehensible weakness. A shiver of heat rushed from his heart to his + head and feet; he became himself once more, terrible, thirsting for + revenge. He raised a dreadful cry. + </p> + <p> + “Help!” he thundered, “help!” + </p> + <p> + He rushed to the bell-pull, pulled till the bells rang with a strange + clamor of din, pulled till the cord gave way. The whole house was roused + with a start. Still shouting, he flung open the windows that looked upon + the street, called for the police, caught up his pistols, and fired them + off to hurry the mounted patrols, the newly-aroused servants, and the + neighbors. The dogs barked at the sound of their master’s voice; the + horses neighed and stamped in their stalls. The quiet night was suddenly + filled with hideous uproar. The General on the staircase, in pursuit of + his daughter, saw the scared faces of the servants flocking from all parts + of the house. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter!” he shouted. “Hélène has been carried off. Search the + garden. Keep a lookout on the road! Open the gates for the gendarmerie!—Murder! + Help!” + </p> + <p> + With the strength of fury he snapped the chain and let loose the great + house-dog. + </p> + <p> + “Hélène!” he cried, “Hélène!” + </p> + <p> + The dog sprang out like a lion, barking furiously, and dashed into the + garden, leaving the General far behind. A troop of horses came along the + road at a gallop, and he flew to open the gates himself. + </p> + <p> + “Corporal!” he shouted, “cut off the retreat of M. de Mauny’s murderer. + They have gone through my garden. Quick! Put a cordon of men to watch the + ways by the Butte de Picardie.—I will beat up the grounds, parks, + and houses.—The rest of you keep a lookout along the road,” he + ordered the servants, “form a chain between the barrier and Versailles. + Forward, every man of you!” + </p> + <p> + He caught up the rifle which his man had brought out, and dashed into the + garden. + </p> + <p> + “Find them!” he called to the dog. + </p> + <p> + An ominous baying came in answer from the distance, and he plunged in the + direction from which the growl seemed to come. + </p> + <p> + It was seven o’clock in the morning; all the search made by gendarmes, + servants, and neighbors had been fruitless, and the dog had not come back. + The General entered the salon, empty now for him though the other three + children were there; he was worn out with fatigue, and looked old already + with that night’s work. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very cold to your daughter,” he said, turning his eyes on + his wife.—“And now this is all that is left to us of her,” he added, + indicating the embroidery frame, and the flower just begun. “Only just now + she was there, and now she is lost... lost!” + </p> + <p> + Tears followed; he hid his face in his hands, and for a few minutes he + said no more; he could not bear the sight of the room, which so short a + time ago had made a setting to a picture of the sweetest family happiness. + The winter dawn was struggling with the dying lamplight; the tapers burned + down to their paper-wreaths and flared out; everything was all in keeping + with the father’s despair. + </p> + <p> + “This must be destroyed,” he said after a pause, pointing to the + tambour-frame. “I shall never bear to see anything again that reminds us + of <i>her</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The terrible Christmas night when the Marquis and his wife lost their + oldest daughter, powerless to oppose the mysterious influence exercised by + the man who involuntarily, as it were, stole Hélène from them, was like a + warning sent by Fate. The Marquis was ruined by the failure of his + stock-broker; he borrowed money on his wife’s property, and lost it in the + endeavor to retrieve his fortunes. Driven to desperate expedients, he left + France. Six years went by. His family seldom had news of him; but a few + days before Spain recognized the independence of the American Republics, + he wrote that he was coming home. + </p> + <p> + So, one fine morning, it happened that several French merchants were on + board a Spanish brig that lay a few leagues out from Bordeaux, impatient + to reach their native land again, with wealth acquired by long years of + toil and perilous adventures in Venezuela and Mexico. + </p> + <p> + One of the passengers, a man who looked aged by trouble rather than by + years, was leaning against the bulwark netting, apparently quite + unaffected by the sight to be seen from the upper deck. The bright day, + the sense that the voyage was safely over, had brought all the passengers + above to greet their land. The larger number of them insisted that they + could see, far off in the distance, the houses and lighthouses on the + coast of Gascony and the Tower of Cardouan, melting into the fantastic + erections of white cloud along the horizon. But for the silver fringe that + played about their bows, and the long furrow swiftly effaced in their + wake, they might have been perfectly still in mid-ocean, so calm was the + sea. The sky was magically clear, the dark blue of the vault above paled + by imperceptible gradations, until it blended with the bluish water, a + gleaming line that sparkled like stars marking the dividing line of sea. + The sunlight caught myriads of facets over the wide surface of the ocean, + in such a sort that the vast plains of salt water looked perhaps more full + of light than the fields of sky. + </p> + <p> + The brig had set all her canvas. The snowy sails, swelled by the strangely + soft wind, the labyrinth of cordage, and the yellow flags flying at the + masthead, all stood out sharp and uncompromisingly clear against the vivid + background of space, sky, and sea; there was nothing to alter the color + but the shadow cast by the great cloudlike sails. + </p> + <p> + A glorious day, a fair wind, and the fatherland in sight, a sea like a + mill-pond, the melancholy sound of the ripples, a fair, solitary vessel, + gliding across the surface of the water like a woman stealing out to a + tryst—it was a picture full of harmony. That mere speck full of + movement was a starting-point whence the soul of man could descry the + immutable vast of space. Solitude and bustling life, silence and sound, + were all brought together in strange abrupt contrast; you could not tell + where life, or sound, or silence, and nothingness lay, and no human voice + broke the divine spell. + </p> + <p> + The Spanish captain, the crew, and the French passengers sat or stood, in + a mood of devout ecstasy, in which many memories blended. There was + idleness in the air. The beaming faces told of complete forgetfulness of + past hardships, the men were rocked on the fair vessel as in a golden + dream. Yet, from time to time the elderly passenger, leaning over the + bulwark nettings, looked with something like uneasiness at the horizon. + Distrust of the ways of Fate could be read in his whole face; he seemed to + fear that he should not reach the coast of France in time. This was the + Marquis. Fortune had not been deaf to his despairing cry and struggles. + After five years of endeavor and painful toil, he was a wealthy man once + more. In his impatience to reach his home again and to bring the good news + to his family, he had followed the example set by some French merchants in + Havana, and embarked with them on a Spanish vessel with a cargo for + Bordeaux. And now, grown tired of evil forebodings, his fancy was tracing + out for him the most delicious pictures of past happiness. In that far-off + brown line of land he seemed to see his wife and children. He sat in his + place by the fireside; they were crowding about him; he felt their + caresses. Moïna had grown to be a young girl; she was beautiful, and tall, + and striking. The fancied picture had grown almost real, when the tears + filled his eyes, and, to hide his emotion, he turned his face towards the + sea-line, opposite the hazy streak that meant land. + </p> + <p> + “There she is again.... She is following us!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the Spanish captain. + </p> + <p> + “There is a vessel,” muttered the General. + </p> + <p> + “I saw her yesterday,” answered Captain Gomez. He looked at his + interlocutor as if to ask what he thought; then he added in the General’s + ear, “She has been chasing us all along.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why she has not come up with us, I do not know,” said the General, + “for she is a faster sailor than your damned <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “She will have damaged herself, sprung a leak—” + </p> + <p> + “She is gaining on us!” the General broke in. + </p> + <p> + “She is a Columbian privateer,” the captain said in his ear, “and we are + still six leagues from land, and the wind is dropping.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not <i>going</i> ahead, she is flying, as if she knew that in two + hours’ time her prey would escape her. What audacity!” + </p> + <p> + “Audacity!” cried the captain. “Oh! she is not called the <i>Othello</i> + for nothing. Not so long back she sank a Spanish frigate that carried + thirty guns! This is the one thing I was afraid of, for I had a notion + that she was cruising about somewhere off the Antilles.—Aha!” he + added after a pause, as he watched the sails of his own vessel, “the wind + is rising; we are making way. Get through we must, for ‘the Parisian’ will + show us no mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “She is making way too!” returned the General. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Othello</i> was scarce three leagues away by this time; and + although the conversation between the Marquis and Captain Gomez had taken + place apart, passengers and crew, attracted by the sudden appearance of a + sail, came to that side of the vessel. With scarcely an exception, + however, they took the privateer for a merchantman, and watched her course + with interest, till all at once a sailor shouted with some energy of + language: + </p> + <p> + “By Saint-James, it is all up with us! Yonder is the Parisian captain!” + </p> + <p> + At that terrible name dismay, and a panic impossible to describe, spread + through the brig. The Spanish captain’s orders put energy into the crew + for a while; and in his resolute determination to make land at all costs, + he set all the studding sails, and crowded on every stitch of canvas on + board. But all this was not the work of a moment; and naturally the men + did not work together with that wonderful unanimity so fascinating to + watch on board a man-of-war. The <i>Othello</i> meanwhile, thanks to the + trimming of her sails, flew over the water like a swallow; but she was + making, to all appearance, so little headway, that the unlucky Frenchmen + began to entertain sweet delusive hopes. At last, after unheard-of + efforts, the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> sprang forward, Gomez himself + directing the shifting of the sheets with voice and gesture, when all at + once the man at the tiller, steering at random (purposely, no doubt), + swung the vessel round. The wind striking athwart the beam, the sails + shivered so unexpectedly that the brig heeled to one side, the booms were + carried away, and the vessel was completely out of hand. The captain’s + face grew whiter than his sails with unutterable rage. He sprang upon the + man at the tiller, drove his dagger at him in such blind fury, that he + missed him, and hurled the weapon overboard. Gomez took the helm himself, + and strove to right the gallant vessel. Tears of despair rose to his eyes, + for it is harder to lose the result of our carefully-laid plans through + treachery than to face imminent death. But the more the captain swore, the + less the men worked, and it was he himself who fired the alarm-gun, hoping + to be heard on shore. The privateer, now gaining hopelessly upon them, + replied with a cannon-shot, which struck the water ten fathoms away from + the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Thunder of heaven!” cried the General, “that was a close shave! They must + have guns made on purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! when that one yonder speaks, look you, you have to hold your tongue,” + said a sailor. “The Parisian would not be afraid to meet an English + man-of-war.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all over with us,” the captain cried in desperation; he had pointed + his telescope landwards, and saw not a sign from the shore. “We are + further from the coast than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you despair?” asked the General. “All your passengers are + Frenchmen; they have chartered your vessel. The privateer is a Parisian, + you say? Well and good, run up the white flag, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And he would run us down,” retorted the captain. “He can be anything he + likes when he has a mind to seize on a rich booty!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if he is a pirate—” + </p> + <p> + “Pirate!” said the ferocious looking sailor. “Oh! he always has the law on + his side, or he knows how to be on the same side as the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the General, raising his eyes, “let us make up our minds + to it,” and his remaining fortitude was still sufficient to keep back the + tears. + </p> + <p> + The words were hardly out of his mouth before a second cannon-shot, better + aimed, came crashing through the hull of the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Heave to!” cried the captain gloomily. + </p> + <p> + The sailor who had commended the Parisian’s law-abiding proclivities + showed himself a clever hand at working a ship after this desperate order + was given. The crew waited for half an hour in an agony of suspense and + the deepest dismay. The <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> had four millions of + piastres on board, the whole fortunes of the five passengers, and the + General’s eleven hundred thousand francs. At length the <i>Othello</i> lay + not ten gunshots away, so that those on the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> could + look into the muzzles of her loaded guns. The vessel seemed to be borne + along by a breeze sent by the Devil himself, but the eyes of an expert + would have discovered the secret of her speed at once. You had but to look + for a moment at the rake of her stern, her long, narrow keel, her tall + masts, to see the cut of her sails, the wonderful lightness of her + rigging, and the ease and perfect seamanship with which her crew trimmed + her sails to the wind. Everything about her gave the impression of the + security of power in this delicately curved inanimate creature, swift and + intelligent as a greyhound or some bird of prey. The privateer crew stood + silent, ready in case of resistance to shatter the wretched merchantman, + which, luckily for her, remained motionless, like a schoolboy caught in + flagrant delict by a master. + </p> + <p> + “We have guns on board!” cried the General, clutching the Spanish + captain’s hand. But the courage in Gomez’s eyes was the courage of + despair. + </p> + <p> + “Have we men?” he said. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis looked round at the crew of the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>, and a + cold chill ran through him. There stood the four merchants, pale and + quaking for fear, while the crew gathered about some of their own number + who appeared to be arranging to go over in a body to the enemy. They + watched the <i>Othello</i> with greed and curiosity in their faces. The + captain, the Marquis, and the mate exchanged glances; they were the only + three who had a thought for any but themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Captain Gomez, when I left my home and country, my heart was half + dead with the bitterness of parting, and now must I bid it good-bye once + more when I am bringing back happiness and ease for my children?” + </p> + <p> + The General turned his head away towards the sea, with tears of rage in + his eyes—and saw the steersman swimming out to the privateer. + </p> + <p> + “This time it will be good-bye for good,” said the captain by way of + answer, and the dazed look in the Frenchman’s eyes startled the Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + By this time the two vessels were almost alongside, and at the first sight + of the enemy’s crew the General saw that Gomez’s gloomy prophecy was only + too true. The three men at each gun might have been bronze statues, + standing like athletes, with their rugged features, their bare sinewy + arms, men whom Death himself had scarcely thrown off their feet. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the crew, well armed, active, light, and vigorous, also stood + motionless. Toil had hardened, and the sun had deeply tanned, those + energetic faces; their eyes glittered like sparks of fire with infernal + glee and clear-sighted courage. Perfect silence on the upper deck, now + black with men, bore abundant testimony to the rigorous discipline and + strong will which held these fiends incarnate in check. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the <i>Othello</i> stood with folded arms at the foot of + the main mast; he carried no weapons, but an axe lay on the deck beside + him. His face was hidden by the shadow of a broad felt hat. The men looked + like dogs crouching before their master. Gunners, soldiers, and ship’s + crew turned their eyes first on his face, and then on the merchant vessel. + </p> + <p> + The two brigs came up alongside, and the shock of contact roused the + privateer captain from his musings; he spoke a word in the ear of the + lieutenant who stood beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Grappling-irons!” shouted the latter, and the <i>Othello</i> grappled the + <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> with miraculous quickness. The captain of the + privateer gave his orders in a low voice to the lieutenant, who repeated + them; the men, told off in succession for each duty, went on the upper + deck of the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>, like seminarists going to mass. They + bound crew and passengers hand and foot and seized the booty. In the + twinkling of an eye, provisions and barrels full of piastres were + transferred to the <i>Othello</i>; the General thought that he must be + dreaming when he himself, likewise bound, was flung down on a bale of + goods as if he had been part of the cargo. + </p> + <p> + A brief conference took place between the captain of the privateer and his + lieutenant and a sailor, who seemed to be the mate of the vessel; then the + mate gave a whistle, and the men jumped on board the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>, + and completely dismantled her with the nimble dexterity of a soldier who + strips a dead comrade of a coveted overcoat and shoes. + </p> + <p> + “It is all over with us,” said the Spanish captain coolly. He had eyed the + three chiefs during their confabulation, and saw that the sailors were + proceeding to pull his vessel to pieces. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” asked the General. + </p> + <p> + “What would you have them do with us?” returned the Spaniard. “They have + just come to the conclusion that they will scarcely sell the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> + in any French or Spanish port, so they are going to sink her to be rid of + her. As for us, do you suppose that they will put themselves to the + expense of feeding us, when they don’t know what port they are to put + into?” + </p> + <p> + The words were scarcely out of the captain’s mouth before a hideous outcry + went up, followed by a dull splashing sound, as several bodies were thrown + overboard. He turned, the four merchants were no longer to be seen, but + eight ferocious-looking gunners were still standing with their arms raised + above their heads. He shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” the Spanish captain asked coolly. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis rose to his feet with a spring. The surface of the sea was + quite smooth again; he could not so much as see the place where his + unhappy fellow-passengers had disappeared. By this time they were sinking + down, bound hand and foot, below the waves, if, indeed, the fish had not + devoured them already. + </p> + <p> + Only a few paces away, the treacherous steersman and the sailor who had + boasted of the Parisian’s power were fraternizing with the crew of the <i>Othello</i>, + and pointing out those among their own number, who, in their opinion, were + worthy to join the crew of the privateer. Then the boys tied the rest + together by the feet in spite of frightful oaths. It was soon over; the + eight gunners seized the doomed men and flung them overboard without more + ado, watching the different ways in which the drowning victims met their + death, their contortions, their last agony, with a sort of malignant + curiosity, but with no sign of amusement, surprise, or pity. For them it + was an ordinary event to which seemingly they were quite accustomed. The + older men looked instead with grim, set smiles at the casks of piastres + about the main mast. + </p> + <p> + The General and Captain Gomez, left seated on a bale of goods, consulted + each other with well-nigh hopeless looks; they were, in a sense, the sole + survivors of the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>, for the seven men pointed out by + the spies were transformed amid rejoicings into Peruvians. + </p> + <p> + “What atrocious villains!” the General cried. Loyal and generous + indignation silenced prudence and pain on his own account. + </p> + <p> + “They do it because they must,” Gomez answered coolly. “If you came across + one of those fellows, you would run him through the body, would you not?” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant now came up to the Spaniard. + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” said he, “the Parisian has heard of you. He says that you are + the only man who really knows the passages of the Antilles and the + Brazilian coast. Will you—” + </p> + <p> + The captain cut him short with a scornful exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “I shall die like a sailor,” he said, “and a loyal Spaniard and a + Christian. Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Heave him overboard!” shouted the lieutenant, and a couple of gunners + seized on Gomez. + </p> + <p> + “You cowards!” roared the General, seizing hold of the men. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t get too excited, old boy,” said the lieutenant. “If your red ribbon + has made some impression upon our captain, I myself do not care a rap for + it.—You and I will have our little bit of talk together directly.” + </p> + <p> + A smothered sound, with no accompanying cry, told the General that the + gallant captain had died “like a sailor,” as he had said. + </p> + <p> + “My money or death!” cried the Marquis, in a fit of rage terrible to see. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now you talk sensibly!” sneered the lieutenant. “That is the way to + get something out of us——” + </p> + <p> + Two of the men came up at a sign and hastened to bind the Frenchmen’s + feet, but with unlooked-for boldness he snatched the lieutenant’s cutlass + and laid about him like a cavalry officer who knows his business. + </p> + <p> + “Brigands that you are! You shall not chuck one of Napoleon’s troopers + over a ship’s side like an oyster!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of pistol shots fired point blank at the Frenchman, “the + Parisian” looked round from his occupation of superintending the transfer + of the rigging from the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>. He came up behind the + brave General, seized him, dragged him to the side, and was about to fling + him over with no more concern than if the man had been a broken spar. They + were at the very edge when the General looked into the tawny eyes of the + man who had stolen his daughter. The recognition was mutual. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the privateer, his arm still upraised, suddenly swung it in + the contrary direction as if his victim was but a feather weight, and set + him down at the foot of the main mast. A murmur rose on the upper deck, + but the captain glanced round, and there was a sudden silence. + </p> + <p> + “This is Hélène’s father,” said the captain in a clear, firm voice. “Woe + to any one who meddles with him!” + </p> + <p> + A hurrah of joy went up at the words, a shout rising to the sky like a + prayer of the church; a cry like the first high notes of the <i>Te Deum</i>. + The lads swung aloft in the rigging, the men below flung up their caps, + the gunners pounded away on the deck, there was a general thrill of + excitement, an outburst of oaths, yells, and shrill cries in voluble + chorus. The men cheered like fanatics, the General’s misgivings deepened, + and he grew uneasy; it seemed to him that there was some horrible mystery + in such wild transports. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter!” he cried, as soon as he could speak. “Where is my + daughter?” + </p> + <p> + For all answer, the captain of the privateer gave him a searching glance, + one of those glances which throw the bravest man into a confusion which no + theory can explain. The General was mute, not a little to the satisfaction + of the crew; it pleased them to see their leader exercise the strange + power which he possessed over all with whom he came in contact. Then the + captain led the way down a staircase and flung open the door of a cabin. + </p> + <p> + “There she is,” he said, and disappeared, leaving the General in a stupor + of bewilderment at the scene before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Hélène cried out at the sight of him, and sprang up from the sofa on which + she was lying when the door flew open. So changed was she that none but a + father’s eyes could have recognized her. The sun of the tropics had + brought warmer tones into the once pale face, and something of Oriental + charm with that wonderful coloring; there was a certain grandeur about + her, a majestic firmness, a profound sentiment which impresses itself upon + the coarsest nature. Her long, thick hair, falling in large curls about + her queenly throat, gave an added idea of power to the proud face. The + consciousness of that power shone out from every movement, every line of + Hélène’s form. The rose-tinted nostrils were dilated slightly with the joy + of triumph; the serene happiness of her life had left its plain tokens in + the full development of her beauty. A certain indefinable virginal grace + met in her with the pride of a woman who is loved. This was a slave and a + queen, a queen who would fain obey that she might reign. + </p> + <p> + Her dress was magnificent and elegant in its richness; India muslin was + the sole material, but her sofa and cushions were of cashmere. A Persian + carpet covered the floor in the large cabin, and her four children playing + at her feet were building castles of gems and pearl necklaces and jewels + of price. The air was full of the scent of rare flowers in Sevres + porcelain vases painted by Madame Jacotot; tiny South American birds, like + living rubies, sapphires, and gold, hovered among the Mexican jessamines + and camellias. A pianoforte had been fitted into the room, and here and + there on the paneled walls, covered with red silk, hung small pictures by + great painters—a <i>Sunset</i> by Hippolyte Schinner beside a + Terburg, one of Raphael’s Madonnas scarcely yielded in charm to a sketch + by Gericault, while a Gerard Dow eclipsed the painters of the Empire. On a + lacquered table stood a golden plate full of delicious fruit. Indeed, + Hélène might have been the sovereign lady of some great country, and this + cabin of hers a boudoir in which her crowned lover had brought together + all earth’s treasure to please his consort. The children gazed with + bright, keen eyes at their grandfather. Accustomed as they were to a life + of battle, storm, and tumult, they recalled the Roman children in David’s + <i>Brutus</i>, watching the fighting and bloodshed with curious interest. + </p> + <p> + “What! is it possible?” cried Hélène, catching her father’s arm as if to + assure herself that this was no vision. + </p> + <p> + “Hélène!” + </p> + <p> + “Father!” + </p> + <p> + They fell into each other’s arms, and the old man’s embrace was not so + close and warm as Hélène’s. + </p> + <p> + “Were you on board that vessel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered sadly, and looking at the little ones, who gathered + about him and gazed with wide open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I was about to perish, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But for my husband,” she broke in. “I see how it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the General, “why must I find you again like this, Hélène? + After all the many tears that I have shed, must I still groan for your + fate?” + </p> + <p> + “And why?” she asked, smiling. “Why should you be sorry to learn that I am + the happiest woman under the sun?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Happy</i>?” he cried with a start of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, happy, my kind father,” and she caught his hands in hers and covered + them with kisses, and pressed them to her throbbing heart. Her caresses, + and a something in the carriage of her head, were interpreted yet more + plainly by the joy sparkling in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And how is this?” he asked, wondering at his daughter’s life, forgetful + now of everything but the bright glowing face before him. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, father; I have for lover, husband, servant, and master one whose + soul is as great as the boundless sea, as infinite in his kindness as + heaven, a god on earth! Never during these seven years has a chance look, + or word, or gesture jarred in the divine harmony of his talk, his love, + his caresses. His eyes have never met mine without a gleam of happiness in + them; there has always been a bright smile on his lips for me. On deck, + his voice rises above the thunder of storms and the tumult of battle; but + here below it is soft and melodious as Rossini’s music—for he has + Rossini’s music sent for me. I have everything that woman’s caprice can + imagine. My wishes are more than fulfilled. In short, I am a queen on the + seas; I am obeyed here as perhaps a queen may be obeyed.—Ah!” she + cried, interrupting herself, “<i>happy</i> did I say? Happiness is no word + to express such bliss as mine. All the happiness that should have fallen + to all the women in the world has been my share. Knowing one’s own great + love and self-devotion, to find in <i>his</i> heart an infinite love in + which a woman’s soul is lost, and lost for ever—tell me, is this + happiness? I have lived through a thousand lives even now. Here, I am + alone; here, I command. No other woman has set foot on this noble vessel, + and Victor is never more than a few paces distant from me,—he cannot + wander further from me than from stern to prow,” she added, with a shade + of mischief in her manner. “Seven years! A love that outlasts seven years + of continual joy, that endures all the tests brought by all the moments + that make up seven years—is this love? Oh, no, no! it is something + better than all that I know of life... human language fails to express the + bliss of heaven.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden torrent of tears fell from her burning eyes. The four little ones + raised a piteous cry at this, and flocked like chickens about their + mother. The oldest boy struck the General with a threatening look. + </p> + <p> + “Abel, darling,” said Hélène, “I am crying for joy.” + </p> + <p> + Hélène took him on her knee, and the child fondled her, putting his arms + about her queenly neck, as a lion’s whelp might play with the lioness. + </p> + <p> + “Do you never weary of your life?” asked the General, bewildered by his + daughter’s enthusiastic language. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “sometimes, when we are on land, yet even then I have + never parted from my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “But you need to be fond of music and balls and fetes.” + </p> + <p> + “His voice is music for me; and for fetes, I devise new toilettes for him + to see. When he likes my dress, it is as if all the world admired me. + Simply for that reason I keep the diamonds and jewels, the precious + things, the flowers and masterpieces of art that he heaps upon me, saying, + ‘Hélène, as you live out of the world, I will have the world come to you.’ + But for that I would fling them all overboard.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are others on board, wild, reckless men whose passions—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, father,” she said smiling. “Do not fear for me. Never was + empress encompassed with more observance than I. The men are very + superstitious; they look upon me as a sort of tutelary genius, the luck of + the vessel. But <i>he</i> is their god; they worship him. Once, and once + only, one of the crew showed disrespect, mere words,” she added, laughing; + “but before Victor knew of it, the others flung the offender overboard, + although I forgave him. They love me as their good angel; I nurse them + when they are ill; several times I have been so fortunate as to save a + life, by constant care such as a woman can give. Poor fellows, they are + giants, but they are children at the same time.” + </p> + <p> + “And when there is fighting overhead?” + </p> + <p> + “I am used to it now; I quaked for fear during the first engagement, but + never since.—I am used to such peril, and—I am your daughter,” + she said; “I love it.” + </p> + <p> + “But how if he should fall?” + </p> + <p> + “I should die with him.” + </p> + <p> + “And your children?” + </p> + <p> + “They are children of the sea and of danger; they share the life of their + parents. We have but one life, and we do not flinch from it. We have but + one life, our names are written on the same page of the book of Fate, one + skiff bears us and our fortunes, and we know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you so love him that he is more to you than all beside?” + </p> + <p> + “All beside?” echoed she. “Let us leave that mystery alone. Yet stay! + there is this dear little one—well, this too is <i>he</i>,” and + straining Abel to her in a tight clasp, she set eager kisses on his cheeks + and hair. + </p> + <p> + “But I can never forget that he has just drowned nine men!” exclaimed the + General. + </p> + <p> + “There was no help for it, doubtless,” she said, “for he is generous and + humane. He sheds as little blood as may be, and only in the interests of + the little world which he defends, and the sacred cause for which he is + fighting. Talk to him about anything that seems to you to be wrong, and he + will convince you, you will see.” + </p> + <p> + “There was that crime of his,” muttered the General to himself. + </p> + <p> + “But how if that crime was a virtue?” she asked, with cold dignity. “How + if man’s justice had failed to avenge a great wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “But a private revenge!” exclaimed her father. + </p> + <p> + “But what is hell,” she cried, “but a revenge through all eternity for the + wrong done in a little day?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are lost! He has bewitched and perverted you. You are talking + wildly.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay with us one day, father, and if you will but listen to him, and see + him, you will love him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hélène, France lies only a few leagues away,” he said gravely. + </p> + <p> + Hélène trembled; then she went to the porthole and pointed to the savannas + of green water spreading far and wide. + </p> + <p> + “There lies my country,” she said, tapping the carpet with her foot. + </p> + <p> + “But are you not coming with me to see your mother and your sister and + brothers?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes,” she cried, with tears in her voice, “if <i>he</i> is willing, + if he will come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” the General said sternly, “you have neither country nor kin now, + Hélène?” + </p> + <p> + “I am his wife,” she answered proudly, and there was something very noble + in her tone. “This is the first happiness in seven years that has not come + to me through him,” she said—then, as she caught her father’s hand + and kissed it—“and this is the first word of reproach that I have + heard.” + </p> + <p> + “And your conscience?” + </p> + <p> + “My conscience; he is my conscience!” she cried, trembling from head to + foot. “Here he is! Even in the thick of a fight I can tell his footstep + among all the others on deck,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + A sudden crimson flushed her cheeks and glowed in her features, her eyes + lighted up, her complexion changed to velvet whiteness, there was joy and + love in every fibre, in the blue veins, in the unconscious trembling of + her whole frame. That quiver of the sensitive plant softened the General. + </p> + <p> + It was as she had said. The captain came in, sat down in an easy-chair, + took up his oldest boy, and began to play with him. There was a moment’s + silence, for the General’s deep musing had grown vague and dreamy, and the + daintily furnished cabin and the playing children seemed like a nest of + halcyons, floating on the waves, between sky and sea, safe in the + protection of this man who steered his way amid the perils of war and + tempest, as other heads of household guide those in their care among the + hazards of common life. He gazed admiringly at Hélène—a dreamlike + vision of some sea goddess, gracious in her loveliness, rich in happiness; + all the treasures about her grown poor in comparison with the wealth of + her nature, paling before the brightness of her eyes, the indefinable + romance expressed in her and her surroundings. + </p> + <p> + The strangeness of the situation took the General by surprise; the ideas + of ordinary life were thrown into confusion by this lofty passion and + reasoning. Chill and narrow social conventions faded away before this + picture. All these things the old soldier felt, and saw no less how + impossible it was that his daughter should give up so wide a life, a life + so variously rich, filled to the full with such passionate love. And + Hélène had tasted danger without shrinking; how could she return to the + pretty stage, the superficial circumscribed life of society? + </p> + <p> + It was the captain who broke the silence at last. + </p> + <p> + “Am I in the way?” he asked, looking at his wife. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the General, answering for her. “Hélène has told me all. I see + that she is lost to us—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” the captain put in quickly; “in a few years’ time the statute of + limitations will allow me to go back to France. When the conscience is + clear, and a man has broken the law in obedience to——” he + stopped short, as if scorning to justify himself. + </p> + <p> + “How can you commit new murders, such as I have seen with my own eyes, + without remorse?” + </p> + <p> + “We had no provisions,” the privateer captain retorted calmly. + </p> + <p> + “But if you had set the men ashore—” + </p> + <p> + “They would have given the alarm and sent a man-of-war after us, and we + should never have seen Chili again.” + </p> + <p> + “Before France would have given warning to the Spanish admiralty—” + began the General. + </p> + <p> + “But France might take it amiss that a man, with a warrant still out + against him, should seize a brig chartered by Bordeaux merchants. And for + that matter, have you never fired a shot or so too many in battle?” + </p> + <p> + The General shrank under the other’s eyes. He said no more, and his + daughter looked at him half sadly, half triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “General,” the privateer continued, in a deep voice, “I have made it a + rule to abstract nothing from booty. But even so, my share will be beyond + a doubt far larger than your fortune. Permit me to return it to you in + another form—” + </p> + <p> + He drew a pile of banknotes from the piano, and without counting the + packets handed a million of francs to the Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “You can understand,” he said, “that I cannot spend my time in watching + vessels pass by to Bordeaux. So unless the dangers of this Bohemian life + of ours have some attraction for you, unless you care to see South America + and the nights of the tropics, and a bit of fighting now and again for the + pleasure of helping to win a triumph for a young nation, or for the name + of Simon Bolivar, we must part. The long boat manned with a trustworthy + crew is ready for you. And now let us hope that our third meeting will be + completely happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Victor,” said Hélène in a dissatisfied tone, “I should like to see a + little more of my father.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes more or less may bring up a French frigate. However, so be + it, we shall have a little fun. The men find things dull.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father, go!” cried Hélène, “and take these keepsakes from me to my + sister and brothers and—mother,” she added. She caught up a handful + of jewels and precious stones, folded them in an Indian shawl, and timidly + held it out. + </p> + <p> + “But what shall I say to them from you?” asked he. Her hesitation on the + word “mother” seemed to have struck him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! can you doubt me? I pray for their happiness every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Hélène,” he began, as he watched her closely, “how if we should not meet + again? Shall I never know why you left us?” + </p> + <p> + “That secret is not mine,” she answered gravely. “Even if I had the right + to tell it, perhaps I should not. For ten years I was more miserable than + words can say—” + </p> + <p> + She broke off, and gave her father the presents for her family. The + General had acquired tolerably easy views as to booty in the course of a + soldier’s career, so he took Hélène’s gifts and comforted himself with the + reflection that the Parisian captain was sure to wage war against the + Spaniards as an honorable man, under the influence of Hélène’s pure and + high-minded nature. His passion for courage carried all before it. It was + ridiculous, he thought, to be squeamish in the matter; so he shook hands + cordially with his captor, and kissed Hélène, his only daughter, with a + soldier’s expansiveness; letting fall a tear on the face with the proud, + strong look that once he had loved to see. “The Parisian,” deeply moved, + brought the children for his blessing. The parting was over, the last + good-bye was a long farewell look, with something of tender regret on + either side. + </p> + <p> + A strange sight to seaward met the General’s eyes. The <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> + was blazing like a huge bonfire. The men told off to sink the Spanish brig + had found a cargo of rum on board; and as the <i>Othello</i> was already + amply supplied, had lighted a floating bowl of punch on the high seas, by + way of a joke; a pleasantry pardonable enough in sailors, who hail any + chance excitement as a relief from the apparent monotony of life at sea. + As the General went over the side into the long-boat of the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i>, + manned by six vigorous rowers, he could not help looking at the burning + vessel, as well as at the daughter who stood by her husband’s side on the + stern of the <i>Othello</i>. He saw Hélène’s white dress flutter like one + more sail in the breeze; he saw the tall, noble figure against a + background of sea, queenly still even in the presence of Ocean; and so + many memories crowded up in his mind, that, with a soldier’s recklessness + of life, he forgot that he was being borne over the grave of the brave + Gomez. + </p> + <p> + A vast column of smoke rising spread like a brown cloud, pierced here and + there by fantastic shafts of sunlight. It was a second sky, a murky dome + reflecting the glow of the fire as if the under surface had been + burnished; but above it soared the unchanging blue of the firmament, a + thousand times fairer for the short-lived contrast. The strange hues of + the smoke cloud, black and red, tawny and pale by turns, blurred and + blending into each other, shrouded the burning vessel as it flared, + crackled and groaned; the hissing tongues of flame licked up the rigging, + and flashed across the hull, like a rumor of riot flashing along the + streets of a city. The burning rum sent up blue flitting lights. Some sea + god might have been stirring the furious liquor as a student stirs the + joyous flames of punch in an orgy. But in the overpowering sunlight, + jealous of the insolent blaze, the colors were scarcely visible, and the + smoke was but a film fluttering like a thin scarf in the noonday torrent + of light and heat. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Othello</i> made the most of the little wind she could gain to fly + on her new course. Swaying first to one side, then to the other, like a + stag beetle on the wing, the fair vessel beat to windward on her zigzag + flight to the south. Sometimes she was hidden from sight by the straight + column of smoke that flung fantastic shadows across the water, then + gracefully she shot out clear of it, and Hélène, catching sight of her + father, waved her handkerchief for yet one more farewell greeting. + </p> + <p> + A few more minutes, and the <i>Saint-Ferdinand</i> went down with a + bubbling turmoil, at once effaced by the ocean. Nothing of all that had + been was left but a smoke cloud hanging in the breeze. The <i>Othello</i> + was far away, the long-boat had almost reached land, the cloud came + between the frail skiff and the brig, and it was through a break in the + swaying smoke that the General caught the last glimpse of Hélène. A + prophetic vision! Her dress and her white handkerchief stood out against + the murky background. Then the brig was not even visible between the green + water and the blue sky, and Hélène was nothing but an imperceptible speck, + a faint graceful line, an angel in heaven, a mental image, a memory. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis had retrieved his fortunes, when he died, worn out with toil. + A few months after his death, in 1833, the Marquise was obliged to take + Moïna to a watering-place in the Pyrenees, for the capricious child had a + wish to see the beautiful mountain scenery. They left the baths, and the + following tragical incident occurred on their way home. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, mother,” said Moïna, “it was very foolish of us not to stay + among the mountains a few days longer. It was much nicer there. Did you + hear that horrid child moaning all night, and that wretched woman, + gabbling away in patois no doubt, for I could not understand a single word + she said. What kind of people can they have put in the next room to ours? + This is one of the horridest nights I have ever spent in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard nothing,” said the Marquise, “but I will see the landlady, + darling, and engage the next room, and then we shall have the whole suite + of rooms to ourselves, and there will be no more noise. How do you feel + this morning? Are you tired?” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, the Marquise rose and went to Moïna’s bedside. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see,” she said, feeling for the girl’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! let me alone, mother,” said Moïna; “your fingers are cold.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head round on the pillow as she spoke, pettishly, but with + such engaging grace, that a mother could scarcely have taken it amiss. + Just then a wailing cry echoed through the next room, a faint prolonged + cry, that must surely have gone to the heart of any woman who heard it. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if you heard <i>that</i> all night long, why did you not wake me? We + should have—” + </p> + <p> + A deeper moan than any that had gone before it interrupted the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “Some one is dying there,” she cried, and hurried out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Send Pauline to me!” called Moïna. “I shall get up and dress.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise hastened downstairs, and found the landlady in the courtyard + with a little group about her, apparently much interested in something + that she was telling them. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, you have put some one in the next room who seems to be very ill + indeed—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t talk to me about it!” cried the mistress of the house. “I have + just sent some one for the mayor. Just imagine it; it is a woman, a poor + unfortunate creature that came here last night on foot. She comes from + Spain; she has no passport and no money; she was carrying her baby on her + back, and the child was dying. I could not refuse to take her in. I went + up to see her this morning myself; for when she turned up yesterday, it + made me feel dreadfully bad to look at her. Poor soul! she and the child + were lying in bed, and both of them at death’s door. ‘Madame,’ says she, + pulling a gold ring off her finger, ‘this is all that I have left; take it + in payment, it will be enough; I shall not stay here long. Poor little + one! we shall die together soon!’ she said, looking at the child. I took + her ring, and I asked her who she was, but she never would tell me her + name.... I have just sent for the doctor and M. le Maire.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you must do all that can be done for her,” cried the Marquise. “Good + heavens! perhaps it is not too late! I will pay for everything that is + necessary——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my lady, she looks to me uncommonly proud, and I don’t know that she + would allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go to see her at once.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise went up forthwith to the stranger’s room, without thinking of + the shock that the sight of her widow’s weeds might give to a woman who + was said to be dying. At the sight of that dying woman the Marquise turned + pale. In spite of the changes wrought by fearful suffering in Hélène’s + beautiful face, she recognized her eldest daughter. + </p> + <p> + But Hélène, when she saw a woman dressed in black, sat upright in bed with + a shriek of horror. Then she sank back; she knew her mother. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter,” said Mme. d’Aiglemont, “what is to be done? Pauline!... + Moïna!...” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing now for me,” said Hélène faintly. “I had hoped to see my father + once more, but your mourning—” she broke off, clutched her child to + her heart as if to give it warmth, and kissed its forehead. Then she + turned her eyes on her mother, and the Marquise met the old reproach in + them, tempered with forgiveness, it is true, but still reproach. She saw + it, and would not see it. She forgot that Hélène was the child conceived + amid tears and despair, the child of duty, the cause of one of the + greatest sorrows in her life. She stole to her eldest daughter’s side, + remembering nothing but that Hélène was her firstborn, the child who had + taught her to know the joys of motherhood. The mother’s eyes were full of + tears. “Hélène, my child!...” she cried, with her arms about her daughter. + </p> + <p> + Hélène was silent. Her own babe had just drawn its last breath on her + breast. + </p> + <p> + Moïna came into the room with Pauline, her maid, and the landlady and the + doctor. The Marquise was holding her daughter’s ice-cold hand in both of + hers, and gazing at her in despair; but the widowed woman, who had escaped + shipwreck with but one of all her fair band of children, spoke in a voice + that was dreadful to hear. “All this is your work,” she said. “If you had + but been for me all that—” + </p> + <p> + “Moïna, go! Go out of the room, all of you!” cried Mme. d’Aiglemont, her + shrill tones drowning Hélène’s voice.—“For pity’s sake,” she + continued, “let us not begin these miserable quarrels again now——” + </p> + <p> + “I will be silent,” Hélène answered with a preternatural effort. “I am a + mother; I know that Moïna ought not... Where is my child?” + </p> + <p> + Moïna came back, impelled by curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Sister,” said the spoiled child, “the doctor—” + </p> + <p> + “It is all of no use,” said Hélène. “Oh! why did I not die as a girl of + sixteen when I meant to take my own life? There is no happiness outside + the laws. Moïna... you...” + </p> + <p> + Her head sank till her face lay against the face of the little one; in her + agony she strained her babe to her breast, and died. + </p> + <p> + “Your sister, Moïna,” said Mme. d’Aiglemont, bursting into tears when she + reached her room, “your sister meant no doubt to tell you that a girl will + never find happiness in a romantic life, in living as nobody else does, + and, above all things, far away from her mother.” + </p> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE OLD AGE OF A GUILTY MOTHER + </h2> + <p> + It was one of the earliest June days of the year 1844. A lady of fifty or + thereabouts, for she looked older than her actual age, was pacing up and + down one of the sunny paths in the garden of a great mansion in the Rue + Plumet in Paris. It was noon. The lady took two or three turns along the + gently winding garden walk, careful never to lose sight of a certain row + of windows, to which she seemed to give her whole attention; then she sat + down on a bench, a piece of elegant semi-rusticity made of branches with + the bark left on the wood. From the place where she sat she could look + through the garden railings along the inner boulevards to the wonderful + dome of the Invalides rising above the crests of a forest of elm-trees, + and see the less striking view of her own grounds terminating in the gray + stone front of one of the finest hotels in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. + </p> + <p> + Silence lay over the neighboring gardens, and the boulevards stretching + away to the Invalides. Day scarcely begins at noon in that aristocratic + quarter, and masters and servants are all alike asleep, or just awakening, + unless some young lady takes it into her head to go for an early ride, or + a gray-headed diplomatist rises betimes to redraft a protocol. + </p> + <p> + The elderly lady stirring abroad at that hour was the Marquise + d’Aiglemont, the mother of Mme. de Saint-Héreen, to whom the great house + belonged. The Marquise had made over the mansion and almost her whole + fortune to her daughter, reserving only an annuity for herself. + </p> + <p> + The Comtesse Moïna de Saint-Héreen was Mme. d’Aiglemont’s youngest child. + The Marquise had made every sacrifice to marry her daughter to the eldest + son of one of the greatest houses of France; and this was only what might + have been expected, for the lady had lost her sons, first one and then the + other. Gustave, Marquis d’Aiglemont, had died of the cholera; Abel, the + second, had fallen in Algeria. Gustave had left a widow and children, but + the dowager’s affection for her sons had been only moderately warm, and + for the next generation it was decidedly tepid. She was always civil to + her daughter-in-law, but her feeling towards the young Marquise was the + distinctly conventional affection which good taste and good manners + require us to feel for our relatives. The fortunes of her dead children + having been settled, she could devote her savings and her own property to + her darling Moïna. + </p> + <p> + Moïna, beautiful and fascinating from childhood, was Mme. d’Aiglemont’s + favorite; loved beyond all the others with an instinctive or involuntary + love, a fatal drawing of the heart, which sometimes seems inexplicable, + sometimes, and to a close observer, only too easy to explain. Her + darling’s pretty face, the sound of Moïna’s voice, her ways, her manner, + her looks and gestures, roused all the deepest emotions that can stir a + mother’s heart with trouble, rapture, or delight. The springs of the + Marquise’s life, of yesterday, to-morrow, and to-day, lay in that young + heart. Moïna, with better fortune, had survived four older children. As a + matter of fact, Mme. d’Aiglemont had lost her eldest daughter, a charming + girl, in a most unfortunate manner, said gossip, nobody knew exactly what + became of her; and then she lost a little boy of five by a dreadful + accident. + </p> + <p> + The child of her affections had, however, been spared to her, and + doubtless the Marquise saw the will of Heaven in that fact; for those who + had died, she kept but very shadowy recollections in some far-off corner + of her heart; her memories of her dead children were like the headstones + on a battlefield, you can scarcely see them for the flowers that have + sprung up about them since. Of course, if the world had chosen, it might + have said some hard truths about the Marquise, might have taken her to + task for shallowness and an overweening preference for one child at the + expense of the rest; but the world of Paris is swept along by the full + flood of new events, new ideas, and new fashions, and it was inevitable + the Mme. d’Aiglemont should be in some sort allowed to drop out of sight. + So nobody thought of blaming her for coldness or neglect which concerned + no one, whereas her quick, apprehensive tenderness for Moïna was found + highly interesting by not a few who respected it as a sort of + superstition. Besides, the Marquise scarcely went into society at all; and + the few families who knew her thought of her as a kindly, gentle, + indulgent woman, wholly devoted to her family. What but a curiosity, keen + indeed, would seek to pry beneath the surface with which the world is + quite satisfied? And what would we not pardon to old people, if only they + will efface themselves like shadows, and consent to be regarded as + memories and nothing more! + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Mme. d’Aiglemont became a kind of example complacently held up by + the younger generation to fathers of families, and frequently cited to + mothers-in-law. She had made over her property to Moïna in her own + lifetime; the young Countess’ happiness was enough for her, she only lived + in her daughter. If some cautious old person or morose uncle here and + there condemned the course with—“Perhaps Mme. d’Aiglemont may be + sorry some day that she gave up her fortune to her daughter; she may be + sure of Moïna, but how can she be equally sure of her son-in-law?”—these + prophets were cried down on all sides, and from all sides a chorus of + praise went up for Moïna. + </p> + <p> + “It ought to be said, in justice to Mme. de Saint-Héreen, that her mother + cannot feel the slightest difference,” remarked a young married woman. + “Mme. d’Aiglemont is admirably well housed. She has a carriage at her + disposal, and can go everywhere just as she used to do—” + </p> + <p> + “Except to the Italiens,” remarked a low voice. (This was an elderly + parasite, one of those persons who show their independence—as they + think—by riddling their friends with epigrams.) “Except to the + Italiens. And if the dowager cares for anything on this earth but her + daughter—it is music. Such a good performer she was in her time! But + the Countess’ box is always full of young butterflies, and the Countess’ + mother would be in the way; the young lady is talked about already as a + great flirt. So the poor mother never goes to the Italiens.” + </p> + <p> + “Mme. de Saint-Héreen has delightful ‘At Homes’ for her mother,” said a + rosebud. “All Paris goes to her salon. + </p> + <p> + “And no one pays any attention to the Marquise,” returned the parasite. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is that Mme. d’Aiglemont is never alone,” remarked a coxcomb, + siding with the young women. + </p> + <p> + “In the morning,” the old observer continued in a discreet voice, “in the + morning dear Moïna is asleep. At four o’clock dear Moïna drives in the + Bois. In the evening dear Moïna goes to a ball or to the Bouffes.—Still, + it is certainly true that Mme. d’Aiglemont has the privilege of seeing her + dear daughter while she dresses, and again at dinner, if dear Moïna + happens to dine with her mother. Not a week ago, sir,” continued the + elderly person, laying his hand on the arm of the shy tutor, a new arrival + in the house, “not a week ago, I saw the poor mother, solitary and sad, by + her own fireside.—‘What is the matter?’ I asked. The Marquise looked + up smiling, but I am quite sure that she had been crying.—‘I was + thinking that it is a strange thing that I should be left alone when I + have had five children,’ she said, ‘but that is our destiny! And besides, + I am happy when I know that Moïna is enjoying herself.’—She could + say that to me, for I knew her husband when he was alive. A poor stick he + was, and uncommonly lucky to have such a wife; it was certainly owing to + her that he was made a peer of France, and had a place at Court under + Charles X.” + </p> + <p> + Yet such mistaken ideas get about in social gossip, and such mischief is + done by it, that the historian of manners is bound to exercise his + discretion, and weigh the assertions so recklessly made. After all, who is + to say that either mother or daughter was right or wrong? There is but One + who can read and judge their hearts! And how often does He wreak His + vengeance in the family circle, using throughout all time children as His + instruments against their mothers, and fathers against their sons, raising + up peoples against kings, and princes against peoples, sowing strife and + division everywhere? And in the world of ideas, are not opinions and + feelings expelled by new feelings and opinions, much as withered leaves + are thrust forth by the young leaf-buds in the spring?—all in + obedience to the immutable Scheme; all to some end which God alone knows. + Yet, surely, all things proceed to Him, or rather, to Him all things + return. + </p> + <p> + Such thoughts of religion, the natural thoughts of age, floated up now and + again on the current of Mme. d’Aiglemont’s thoughts; they were always + dimly present in her mind, but sometimes they shone out clearly, sometimes + they were carried under, like flowers tossed on the vexed surface of a + stormy sea. + </p> + <p> + She sat on a garden-seat, tired with walking, exhausted with much thinking—with + the long thoughts in which a whole lifetime rises up before the mind, and + is spread out like a scroll before the eyes of those who feel that Death + is near. + </p> + <p> + If a poet had chanced to pass along the boulevard, he would have found an + interesting picture in the face of this woman, grown old before her time. + As she sat under the dotted shadow of the acacia, the shadow the acacia + casts at noon, a thousand thoughts were written for all the world to see + on her features, pale and cold even in the hot, bright sunlight. There was + something sadder than the sense of waning life in that expressive face, + some trouble that went deeper than the weariness of experience. It was a + face of a type that fixes you in a moment among a host of characterless + faces that fail to draw a second glance, a face to set you thinking. Among + a thousand pictures in a gallery, you are strongly impressed by the + sublime anguish on the face of some Madonna of Murillo’s; by some <i>Beatrice + Cenci</i> in which Guido’s art portrays the most touching innocence + against a background of horror and crime; by the awe and majesty that + should encircle a king, caught once and for ever by Velasquez in the + sombre face of a Philip II., and so is it with some living human faces; + they are tyrannous pictures which speak to you, submit you to searching + scrutiny, and give response to your inmost thoughts, nay, there are faces + that set forth a whole drama, and Mme. d’Aiglemont’s stony face was one of + these awful tragedies, one of such faces as Dante Alighieri saw by + thousands in his vision. + </p> + <p> + For the little season that a woman’s beauty is in flower it serves her + admirably well in the dissimulation to which her natural weakness and our + social laws condemn her. A young face and rich color, and eyes that glow + with light, a gracious maze of such subtle, manifold lines and curves, + flawless and perfectly traced, is a screen that hides everything that + stirs the woman within. A flush tells nothing, it only heightens the + coloring so brilliant already; all the fires that burn within can add + little light to the flame of life in eyes which only seem the brighter for + the flash of a passing pain. Nothing is so discreet as a young face, for + nothing is less mobile; it has the serenity, the surface smoothness, and + the freshness of a lake. There is not character in women’s faces before + the age of thirty. The painter discovers nothing there but pink and white, + and the smile and expression that repeat the same thought in the same way—a + thought of youth and love that goes no further than youth and love. But + the face of an old woman has expressed all that lay in her nature; passion + has carved lines on her features; love and wifehood and motherhood, and + extremes of joy and anguish, having wrung them, and left their traces in a + thousand wrinkles, all of which speak a language of their own; then it is + that a woman’s face becomes sublime in its horror, beautiful in its + melancholy, grand in its calm. If it is permissible to carry the strange + metaphor still further, it might be said that in the dried-up lake you can + see the traces of all the torrents that once poured into it and made it + what it is. An old face is nothing to the frivolous world; the frivolous + world is shocked by the sight of the destruction of such comeliness as it + can understand; a commonplace artist sees nothing there. An old face is + the province of the poets among poets of those who can recognize that + something which is called Beauty, apart from all the conventions + underlying so many superstitions in art and taste. + </p> + <p> + Though Mme. d’Aiglemont wore a fashionable bonnet, it was easy to see that + her once black hair had been bleached by cruel sorrows; yet her good taste + and the gracious acquired instincts of a woman of fashion could be seen in + the way she wore it, divided into two <i>bandeaux</i>, following the + outlines of a forehead that still retained some traces of former dazzling + beauty, worn and lined though it was. The contours of her face, the + regularity of her features, gave some idea, faint in truth, of that beauty + of which surely she had once been proud; but those traces spoke still more + plainly of the anguish which had laid it waste, of sharp pain that had + withered the temples, and made those hollows in her cheeks, and empurpled + the eyelids, and robbed them of their lashes, and the eyes of their charm. + She was in every way so noiseless; she moved with a slow, self-contained + gravity that showed itself in her whole bearing, and struck a certain awe + into others. Her diffident manner had changed to positive shyness, due + apparently to a habit now of some years’ growth, of effacing herself in + her daughter’s presence. She spoke very seldom, and in the low tones used + by those who perforce must live within themselves a life of reflection and + concentration. This demeanor led others to regard her with an indefinable + feeling which was neither awe nor compassion, but a mysterious blending of + the many ideas awakened in us by compassion and awe. Finally, there was + something in her wrinkles, in the lines of her face, in the look of pain + in those wan eyes of hers, that bore eloquent testimony to tears that + never had fallen, tears that had been absorbed by her heart. Unhappy + creatures, accustomed to raise their eyes to heaven, in mute appeal + against the bitterness of their lot, would have seen at once from her eyes + that she was broken in to the cruel discipline of ceaseless prayer, would + have discerned the almost imperceptible symptoms of the secret bruises + which destroy all the flowers of the soul, even the sentiment of + motherhood. + </p> + <p> + Painters have colors for these portraits, but words, and the mental images + called up by words, fail to reproduce such impressions faithfully; there + are mysterious signs and tokens in the tones of the coloring and in the + look of human faces, which the mind only seizes through the sense of + sight; and the poet is fain to record the tale of the events which wrought + the havoc to make their terrible ravages understood. + </p> + <p> + The face spoke of cold and steady storm, an inward conflict between a + mother’s long-suffering and the limitations of our nature, for our human + affections are bounded by our humanity, and the infinite has no place in + finite creatures. Sorrow endured in silence had at last produced an + indefinable morbid something in this woman. Doubtless mental anguish had + reacted on the physical frame, and some disease, perhaps an aneurism, was + undermining Julie’s life. Deep-seated grief lies to all appearance very + quietly in the depths where it is conceived, yet, so still and apparently + dormant as it is, it ceaselessly corrodes the soul, like the terrible acid + which eats away crystal. + </p> + <p> + Two tears made their way down the Marquise’s cheeks; she rose to her feet + as if some thought more poignant than any that preceded it had cut her to + the quick. She had doubtless come to a conclusion as to Moïna’s future; + and now, foreseeing clearly all the troubles in store for her child, the + sorrows of her own unhappy life had begun to weigh once more upon her. The + key of her position must be sought in her daughter’s situation. + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Saint-Héreen had been away for nearly six months on a + political mission. The Countess, whether from sheer giddiness, or in + obedience to the countless instincts of woman’s coquetry, or to essay its + power—with all the vanity of a frivolous fine lady, all the + capricious waywardness of a child—was amusing herself, during her + husband’s absence, by playing with the passion of a clever but heartless + man, distracted (so he said) with love, the love that combines readily + with every petty social ambition of a self-conceited coxcomb. Mme. + d’Aiglemont, whose long experience had given her a knowledge of life, and + taught her to judge of men and to dread the world, watched the course of + this flirtation, and saw that it could only end in one way, if her + daughter should fall into the hands of an utterly unscrupulous intriguer. + How could it be other than a terrible thought for her that her daughter + listened willingly to this <i>roue</i>? Her darling stood on the brink of + a precipice, she felt horribly sure of it, yet dared not hold her back. + She was afraid of the Countess. She knew too that Moïna would not listen + to her wise warnings; she knew that she had no influence over that nature—iron + for her, silken-soft for all others. Her mother’s tenderness might have + led her to sympathize with the troubles of a passion called forth by the + nobler qualities of a lover, but this was no passion—it was + coquetry, and the Marquise despised Alfred de Vandenesse, knowing that he + had entered upon this flirtation with Moïna as if it were a game of chess. + </p> + <p> + But if Alfred de Vandenesse made her shudder with disgust, she was obliged—unhappy + mother!—to conceal the strongest reason for her loathing in the + deepest recesses of her heart. She was on terms of intimate friendship + with the Marquis de Vandenesse, the young man’s father; and this + friendship, a respectable one in the eyes of the world, excused the son’s + constant presence in the house, he professing an old attachment, dating + from childhood, for Mme. de Saint-Héreen. More than this, in vain did Mme. + d’Aiglemont nerve herself to come between Moïna and Alfred de Vandenesse + with a terrible word, knowing beforehand that she should not succeed; + knowing that the strong reason which ought to separate them would carry no + weight; that she should humiliate herself vainly in her daughter’s eyes. + Alfred was too corrupt; Moïna too clever to believe the revelation; the + young Countess would turn it off and treat it as a piece of maternal + strategy. Mme. d’Aiglemont had built her prison walls with her own hands; + she had immured herself only to see Moïna’s happiness ruined thence before + she died; she was to look on helplessly at the ruin of the young life + which had been her pride and joy and comfort, a life a thousand times + dearer to her than her own. What words can describe anguish so hideous + beyond belief, such unfathomed depths of pain? + </p> + <p> + She waited for Moïna to rise, with the impatience and sickening dread of a + doomed man, who longs to have done with life, and turns cold at the + thought of the headsman. She had braced herself for a last effort, but + perhaps the prospect of the certain failure of the attempt was less + dreadful to her than the fear of receiving yet again one of those thrusts + that went to her very heart—before that fear her courage ebbed away. + Her mother’s love had come to this. To love her child, to be afraid of + her, to shrink from the thought of the stab, yet to go forward. So great + is a mother’s affection in a loving nature, that before it can fade away + into indifference the mother herself must die or find support in some + great power without her, in religion or another love. Since the Marquise + rose that morning, her fatal memory had called up before her some of those + things, so slight to all appearance, that make landmarks in a life. + Sometimes, indeed, a whole tragedy grows out of a single gesture; the tone + in which a few words were spoken rends a whole life in two; a glance into + indifferent eyes is the deathblow of the gladdest love; and, unhappily, + such gestures and such words were only too familiar to Mme. d’Aiglemont—she + had met so many glances that wound the soul. No, there was nothing in + those memories to bid her hope. On the contrary, everything went to show + that Alfred had destroyed her hold on her daughter’s heart, that the + thought of her was now associated with duty—not with gladness. In + ways innumerable, in things that were mere trifles in themselves, the + Countess’ detestable conduct rose up before her mother; and the Marquise, + it may be, looked on Moïna’s undutifulness as a punishment, and found + excuses for her daughter in the will of Heaven, that so she still might + adore the hand that smote her. + </p> + <p> + All these things passed through her memory that morning, and each + recollection wounded her afresh so sorely, that with a very little + additional pain her brimming cup of bitterness must have overflowed. A + cold look might kill her. + </p> + <p> + The little details of domestic life are difficult to paint; but one or two + perhaps will suffice to give an idea of the rest. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise d’Aiglemont, for instance, had grown rather deaf, but she + could never induce Moïna to raise her voice for her. Once, with the + naivete of suffering, she had begged Moïna to repeat some remark which she + had failed to catch, and Moïna obeyed, but with so bad a grace, that Mme. + d’Aiglemont had never permitted herself to make her modest request again. + Ever since that day when Moïna was talking or retailing a piece of news, + her mother was careful to come near to listen; but this infirmity of + deafness appeared to put the Countess out of patience, and she would + grumble thoughtlessly about it. This instance is one from among very many + that must have gone to the mother’s heart; and yet nearly all of them + might have escaped a close observer, they consisted in faint shades of + manner invisible to any but a woman’s eyes. Take another example. Mme. + d’Aiglemont happened to say one day that the Princesse de Cadignan had + called upon her. “Did she come to see <i>you</i>!” Moïna exclaimed. That + was all, but the Countess’ voice and manner expressed surprise and + well-bred contempt in semitones. Any heart, still young and sensitive, + might well have applauded the philanthropy of savage tribes who kill off + their old people when they grow too feeble to cling to a strongly shaken + bough. Mme. d’Aiglemont rose smiling, and went away to weep alone. + </p> + <p> + Well-bred people, and women especially, only betray their feelings by + imperceptible touches; but those who can look back over their own + experience on such bruises as this mother’s heart received, know also how + the heart-strings vibrate to these light touches. Overcome by her + memories, Mme. d’Aiglemont recollected one of those microscopically small + things, so stinging and so painful was it that never till this moment had + she felt all the heartless contempt that lurked beneath smiles. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of shutters thrown back at her daughter’s windows, she dried + her tears, and hastened up the pathway by the railings. As she went, it + struck her that the gardener had been unusually careful to rake the sand + along the walk which had been neglected for some little time. As she stood + under her daughter’s windows, the shutters were hastily closed. + </p> + <p> + “Moïna, is it you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise went on into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Mme. la Comtesse is in the little drawing-room,” said the maid, when the + Marquise asked whether Mme. de Saint-Héreen had finished dressing. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont hurried to the little drawing-room; her heart was too + full, her brain too busy to notice matters so slight; but there on the + sofa sat the Countess in her loose morning-gown, her hair in disorder + under the cap tossed carelessly on her head, her feet thrust into slippers. + The key of her bedroom hung at her girdle. Her face, aglow with color, + bore traces of almost stormy thought. + </p> + <p> + “What makes people come in!” she cried, crossly. “Oh! it is you, mother,” + she interrupted herself, with a preoccupied look. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, child; it is your mother——” + </p> + <p> + Something in her tone turned those words into an outpouring of the heart, + the cry of some deep inward feeling, only to be described by the word + “holy.” So thoroughly in truth had she rehabilitated the sacred character + of a mother, that her daughter was impressed, and turned towards her, with + something of awe, uneasiness, and remorse in her manner. The room was the + furthest of a suite, and safe from indiscreet intrusion, for no one could + enter it without giving warning of approach through the previous + apartments. The Marquise closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “It is my duty, my child, to warn you in one of the most serious crises in + the lives of us women; you have perhaps reached it unconsciously, and I am + come to speak to you as a friend rather than as a mother. When you + married, you acquired freedom of action; you are only accountable to your + husband now; but I asserted my authority so little (perhaps I was wrong), + that I think I have a right to expect you to listen to me, for once at + least, in a critical position when you must need counsel. Bear in mind, + Moïna that you are married to a man of high ability, a man of whom you may + well be proud, a man who—” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you are going to say, mother!” Moïna broke in pettishly. “I + am to be lectured about Alfred—” + </p> + <p> + “Moïna,” the Marquise said gravely, as she struggled with her tears, “you + would not guess at once if you did not feel—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Moïna, almost haughtily. “Why, really, mother—” + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont summoned up all her strength. “Moïna,” she said, “you + must attend carefully to this that I ought to tell you—” + </p> + <p> + “I am attending,” returned the Countess, folding her arms, and affecting + insolent submission. “Permit me, mother, to ring for Pauline,” she added + with incredible self-possession; “I will send her away first.” + </p> + <p> + She rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, Pauline cannot possibly hear—” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma,” interrupted the Countess, with a gravity which must have struck + her mother as something unusual, “I must—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short, for the woman was in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Pauline, go <i>yourself</i> to Baudran’s, and ask why my hat has not yet + been sent.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Countess reseated herself and scrutinized her mother. The + Marquise, with a swelling heart and dry eyes, in painful agitation, which + none but a mother can fully understand, began to open Moïna’s eyes to the + risk that she was running. But either the Countess felt hurt and indignant + at her mother’s suspicions of a son of the Marquis de Vandenesse, or she + was seized with a sudden fit of inexplicable levity caused by the + inexperience of youth. She took advantage of a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, I thought you were only jealous of <i>the father</i>—” she + said, with a forced laugh. + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont shut her eyes and bent her head at the words, with a very + faint, almost inaudible sigh. She looked up and out into space, as if she + felt the common overmastering impulse to appeal to God at the great crises + of our lives; then she looked at her daughter, and her eyes were full of + awful majesty and the expression of profound sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” she said, and her voice was hardly recognizable, “you have + been less merciful to your mother than he against whom she sinned; less + merciful than perhaps God Himself will be!” + </p> + <p> + Mme. d’Aiglemont rose; at the door she turned; but she saw nothing but + surprise in her daughter’s face. She went out. Scarcely had she reached + the garden when her strength failed her. There was a violent pain at her + heart, and she sank down on a bench. As her eyes wandered over the path, + she saw fresh marks on the path, a man’s footprints were distinctly + recognizable. It was too late, then, beyond a doubt. Now she began to + understand the reason for that order given to Pauline, and with these + torturing thoughts came a revelation more hateful than any that had gone + before it. She drew her own inferences—the son of the Marquis de + Vandenesse had destroyed all feeling of respect for her in her daughter’s + mind. The physical pain grew worse; by degrees she lost consciousness, and + sat like one asleep upon the garden-seat. + </p> + <p> + The Countess de Saint-Héreen, left to herself, thought that her mother had + given her a somewhat shrewd home-thrust, but a kiss and a few attentions + that evening would make all right again. + </p> + <p> + A shrill cry came from the garden. She leaned carelessly out, as Pauline, + not yet departed on her errand, called out for help, holding the Marquise + in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Do not frighten my daughter!” those were the last words the mother + uttered. + </p> + <p> + Moïna saw them carry in a pale and lifeless form that struggled for + breath, and arms moving restlessly as in protest or effort to speak; and + overcome by the sight, Moïna followed in silence, and helped to undress + her mother and lay her on her bed. The burden of her fault was greater + than she could bear. In that supreme hour she learned to know her mother—too + late, she could make no reparation now. She would have them leave her + alone with her mother; and when there was no one else in the room, when + she felt that the hand which had always been so tender for her was now + grown cold to her touch, she broke out into weeping. Her tears aroused the + Marquise; she could still look at her darling Moïna; and at the sound of + sobbing, that seemed as if it must rend the delicate, disheveled breast, + could smile back at her daughter. That smile taught the unnatural child + that forgiveness is always to be found in the great deep of a mother’s + heart. + </p> + <p> + Servants on horseback had been dispatched at once for the physician and + surgeon and for Mme. d’Aiglemont’s grandchildren. Mme. d’Aiglemont the + younger and her little sons arrived with the medical men, a sufficiently + impressive, silent, and anxious little group, which the servants of the + house came to join. The young Marquise, hearing no sound, tapped gently at + the door. That signal, doubtless, roused Moïna from her grief, for she + flung open the doors and stood before them. No words could have spoken + more plainly than that disheveled figure looking out with haggard eyes + upon the assembled family. Before that living picture of Remorse the rest + were dumb. It was easy to see that the Marquise’s feet were stretched out + stark and stiff with the agony of death; and Moïna, leaning against the + door-frame, looking into their faces, spoke in a hollow voice: + </p> + <p> + “I have lost my mother!” + </p> + <h3> + PARIS, 1828-1844. + </h3> + <p> + <br> <br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br> <br> <a id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre> + Aiglemont, General, Marquis Victor d’ + At the Sign of the Cat and Racket + The Firm of Nucingen + + Bonaparte, Napoleon + The Vendetta + The Gondreville Mystery + Colonel Chabert + Domestic Peace + The Seamy Side of History + + Camps, Madame Octave de (nee Cadignan) + Madame Firmiani + The Government Clerks + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + + Chatillonest, De + Modeste Mignon + + Crottat, Alexandre + Cesar Birotteau + Colonel Chabert + A Start in Life + Cousin Pons + + Desroches (son) + A Bachelor’s Establishment + Colonel Chabert + A Start in Life + The Commission in Lunacy + The Government Clerks + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Firm of Nucingen + A Man of Business + The Middle Classes + + Duroc, Gerard-Christophe-Michel + The Gondreville Mystery + + Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + Another Study of Woman + The Thirteen + The Member for Arcis + + Saint-Héreen, Comtesse Moïna de + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + + Sérizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Thirteen + Ursule Mirouet + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + Vandenesse, Marquis Charles de + A Start in Life + A Daughter of Eve +</pre> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1950 ***</div> + </body> +</html> + diff --git a/1950-h/images/cover.jpg b/1950-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..16032ce --- /dev/null +++ b/1950-h/images/cover.jpg |
