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diff --git a/22411.txt b/22411.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c586a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/22411.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6365 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Choice of Life, by Georgette Leblanc, +Translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Choice of Life + + +Author: Georgette Leblanc + + + +Release Date: August 26, 2007 [eBook #22411] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHOICE OF LIFE*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 22411-h.htm or 22411-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/4/1/22411/22411-h/22411-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/4/1/22411/22411-h.zip) + + + + + +THE CHOICE OF LIFE + +by + +GEORGETTE LEBLANC + +Translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Georgette Leblanc] + + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1914 + +Copyright, 1914, by +Dodd, Mead and Company +Published, March, 1914 + + + + +Women are ever divided by a miserable distrust, whereas all their +weaknesses intertwined might make for their lives a crown of love and +strength and beauty.... + +How one of them strove to deliver her unhappy friend, the words which +she spoke to her, the examples which she set before her, the joys which +she offered her: these are what I have tried to record in this book. + + G.L. + + + + + + +PART THE FIRST + +CHAPTER I + + +1 + +Here in the garden, close to the quiet house, I sit thinking of that +strange meeting in the village. A blackbird at regular intervals sings +the same refrain, which is taken up by others in the distance. The +lily's chalice gleams under the blazing sun; and the humbler flowers +meekly droop their heads. White butterflies are everywhere, flitting +restlessly hither and thither. So fierce is the splendour of the day +that I cannot raise my eyes to the summit of the trees; and my quivering +lids show me the whole sky through my lashes. + +Thereupon it seems to me that the emotion which bursts from my heart, +like a too-brilliant light, compels me to close the shutters of my brain +as well. In my mind, even as before my eyes, distances are lessened and +I see stretched before me that more or less illusive goal which we would +all fain reach in the desires of our finer selves. + +This idea is soothing to me, for, in my eagerness to act, I am tired of +demanding from my reason reasons which it cannot vouchsafe me. + +Is there anything definite amid the uncertainty of these blind efforts, +these unaccountable impulses, which have so often, ever since the first +awakening of my unconsciousness, urged me towards other women? What have +I wanted hitherto? What was it that I hoped when I stretched out my +hands to them, when I looked upon their lives, when I searched their +hearts, when at times I changed the very nature of their strivings? I +did not know then; and even now I do not succeed in explaining to myself +the fever that makes my thoughts tingle and burn. I do not understand, I +do not know. How did that dream stand firm amid the total annihilation +of unprofitable illusions? Is there then an element of reality, a +definite truth that encourages me, though I do not discern it? + +I see myself going forward recklessly, like a traveller who knows that +there is somewhere a goal and who makes for it blindly, with the same +assurance as though the goal stood bright and luminous on a +mountain-top. + +My only apology for these continual excursions is that I lay claim to +no rigidity of purpose; and I should almost be ashamed to come with +principles and axioms to those whom I am carrying away. Then why alter +the course of their destiny? Why appeal to their sympathy and their +confidence? What better lot have I to offer them and what can I hope for +even if they respond? Certainly I wish them fairer and more perfect, +freed from their childish dread of criticism, armed with a prouder and +more personal conception of honour than the code which is laid upon +them, respectful of their life and also encompassing it with infinite +indulgence and kindness. But is not that a wild ideal? In my memory, I +still see them smiling at it, those radiant faces which all my sermons +could not cloud, or which, vainly striving to understand them, never +reflected anything but their crudest and most extravagant features! + +The newcomer with the grave countenance, the new soul divined beneath a +beauty that pleases me, will she at long last teach me how much is +possible and realisable in the vague ideal to which I pay homage, +without as yet being able to define it? + +I dare not hope. + +Hitherto, events have not justified me any more than my reason. + +The swift walker goes alone upon his road; there is never any but his +shadow to follow him. + +I know how conscious we are of our weakness when we try to bring our +energies into action; and I know that my pride will suffer, for I have +never seen my footprint on the sand without pitying myself.... + + +2 + +Those who are close to our soul have no need of our words to understand +it; and those who are far removed from it do not hear us speak. Then for +whom do we speak, alas? + +The blackbird's song describes precious waves in the still air; pearls +are scattered over the blue sky. + +The lily's whiteness ascends like a fervent prayer; the bees make haste; +the careless butterflies enjoy their little day. Near me, a tiny ant +exhausts herself in a task too heavy for her strength. Lowly and +excellent counsellors, does not each of them set me the example of her +humble efforts? + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +1 + +It was yesterday. When I woke, the cornfield under my windows, which +seemed a steadfast sea of gold, had already half disappeared. The +scythes flashed in the sun; and the ripe corn fell in great unresisting +masses. + +The smallest details of that meeting are present in my memory; and I do +not weary of living every moment of it over again. The air was cool. I +still feel the caress of my sleeves, which the wind set fluttering over +my arms. I drank the breeze in great gulps. It filled me, it revived me +from head to foot. My skirts hampered me and I went slowly, holding my +hat in both hands before my face and vaguely guided by the little +patches of landscape that showed through the loose straw: a glimpse of +blue sky, of swaying tree-tops, smoking chimneys and a dim horizon. + +I have come to the far end of the field, where the reapers are. It is +the hour of the first meal. The men have laid down their scythes, the +girls have ceased to bind the sheaves and all are sitting on the slope +beside the road. + +Curious, I go closer still. A young woman, whom the others call +"mademoiselle," is kneeling a few steps away from me, in front of the +provision-basket; she has her back turned to me and is distributing +slices of bread and cream-cheese to the labourers; she hands the jug +filled with cider to the one nearest her, who drinks and sends it round. +For one second the movement of her arm passes between the sky and my +gaze, which wavers a little owing to the brilliancy of the light; and +that arm dewy with heat appears to me admirably moulded, with bold, pure +lines. + +She is dressed like her companions, in a coarse linen skirt, whose +uncouth folds disguise her hips, and a calico smock imprisoned in a +black laced bodice, a sort of shapeless, barbarous cuirass. A +broad-brimmed straw hat, adorned with a faded ribbon, casts its shadow +on her shoulders; but, when she bends her head, I see the glint of her +hair, whose tightly bound and twisted masses shine like coils of gold. + +The rather powerful neck is beautifully modelled. It is delicately +hollowed at the nape, where a little silver chain accentuates the +gentle curve. I can see almost nothing of her figure under the clumsy +clothes, but its proportions appear to me accurate and fairly slender. + +I feel inclined to go away without a word; my fastidious eyes bring me +misgivings. When the first taste is good, why risk a second? But one of +the reapers has seen me. He bids me a friendly good-morning; and, before +I have time to answer, she has turned round. + +It is so rare, in our country districts, to see a beautiful woman that, +for an instant, I blame the charm of the hour and accuse the friendly +light of complicity. But little by little her perfection overcomes my +doubts; and, the more I watch her, the lovelier I think her. The almost +statuesque slowness of her movements, the vigorous line of her body, the +glad colours that adorn her mouth, her cheeks and her bare arms seem to +make her share in the health of the soil. The fair human sheaf is bound +to nature like the golden sheaves that surround it. + +Without stirring, we two stand looking at each other face to face. + + +2 + +O miracle of beauty, sovran of happiness and magnet of wandering eyes, +that day it shone in the noon-day sun like a star on the forehead of +that unhappy life; and it and it alone stayed my steps! + +But for it, should I have dreamt, in the presence of that humble girl, +of one of those quests which appeal to the hearts of us women, hearts +fed on eternal illusions? But for it, should I have suspected a +sorrowing soul in the depths of those limpid eyes? And, at this moment, +should I be asking of my weakness the strength that constrains, of my +doubts the faith that saves, of my pity the tenderness that consoles and +heals? + + +3 + +I had moved to go, happy without knowing why; I hastened my steps. With +my soul heavier and my feet lighter than before, I walked away, glorying +in my meeting as in a victory over chance, over the thousand trifles, +the thousand blind agencies that incessantly keep us from what we seek +and from what unconsciously seeks us. + +I could have laughed for joy; and it would have been sweet to me, when +I passed into the garden, to proclaim my glee aloud. But the peace of +things laid silence upon me. I slowly followed the paths, bordered with +marigolds and balsam, that lead to the house; and, when I passed under +the blinds, which a friend's hand had gently drawn for me, I heard my +everyday voice describing my discovery and my delight in sober tones. + +And yet the moment of exaltation still charged my life; it seemed to me +clearer and deeper; and I thought that enthusiasm is in us like a +too-full cup, which overflows at the least movement of the soul. + + +4 + +I made enquiries that same evening; and all that I learnt encourages me. + +She lives at the end of our village of Sainte-Colombe. She was brought +up at the convent in the town hard by and left it at the age of +eighteen. Since then, she has not been happy. On Sunday she is never +with the merrymaking crowd. She has never been seen at church. She +neither prays nor dances. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +1 + +I took the road leading to the farm at which she lives. The yard is a +large one, the trees that hem it in are old and planted close together. +One can hardly see the straggling, thatched buildings from the road; and +I walked round the place without being able to satisfy my curiosity. She +lives there, I was told, with an old woman, her godmother, about whom +the people of the countryside tell stories of murder and debauchery. I +have seen her sometimes. She gives a disagreeable impression. She is a +tall, lean woman, with wisps of white hair straggling about her face. +Her waving arms and twitching hands carry a perpetual vague menace. The +black, deep-set eyes gleam evilly in her ivory face; and her hard thin +mouth, which opens straight across it, often hums coarse ditties in a +cracked voice. + +Her curious attire completes the disorder of her appearance. Over her +rough peasant's clothes, some article of cast-off apparel cuts a strange +and lamentable figure: a muslin morning-wrap, once white and covered +with filmy lace; long, faded ribbons, which fasten a showy Watteau pleat +to the back, with ravelled ends spreading over the thick red-cotton +skirt; old pink-satin slippers, with pointed heels that sink into the +mud. In point of fact, I could say the exact number of times when I have +seen her and why I noticed her, for the sight of her always hurt me +cruelly when I met her in the sweet stillness of the country lanes. + +For a long time, I wandered round the farm. I was moving away, picking +flowers as I went, when suddenly, at a bend in the road, I saw the girl +who filled my thoughts. She was sitting on a heap of stones; and two +large pails of milk stood beside her. Her attitude betokened great +weariness; and her drooping arms seemed to enjoy the rest. + +I lingered a little while in front of her. Her face appeared to me +lovelier than on the first occasion, though her uncovered head allowed +me to see her magnificent hair plastered down so as to leave it no +freedom whatever. She answered my smile with a blush; and, when I looked +at her thick and awkward hands, she clasped and unclasped them with an +embarrassed air. + + +2 + +Just now, at the wane of the day, I was singing in the drawing-room, +with the windows open. I caught sight in the mirror of the sky ablaze +with red and rose quickly from the piano to see the sun dip into the +sea.... Near the garden, behind the hedge, I surprised the young girl +trying to hide.... + + +3 + +I had never seen her; but now, because I saw her one day, I am always +seeing her. + +Do we then behold only what we seek? It is a sad thought. We shall be +called upon to die before we have seen everything, understood +everything, loved and embraced everything. Our skirts will have brushed +against joys which we shall not have felt; our streaming tresses will +have passed through perfumes which we shall not have breathed; our mouth +will have kissed flowers which our hands have not known how to pick; and +very often our eyes will have seen without acquainting our intelligence. +We shall not have been observant continually. + +It is a pity that things possess no other life than that which we +bestow upon them. I dislike to find that, for me, everything is subject +to my observation and my knowledge. The first is great indeed, but the +second is so small!... + + +4 + +A few years ago, the parish priest was on his way to the church at four +o'clock one morning, to celebrate the harvest mass, when he saw a +strange thing floating on the surface of the pool that washes the steps +of the wayside crucifix. As he approached, he perceived that it was a +woman's long hair. A moment later, they drew the body of a young and +beautiful girl to the bank. With nothing on her but her night-dress, she +seemed to have run straight from her bed to the pond. The gossips of the +neighbourhood will never cease chattering over this incident and the +shock which it gave the priest; and, though there is no other pond in +the village, the poor girl will be everlastingly reproached with +choosing "God's Pool" for her attempt at suicide. + +Is it not enough for me to know that she is out of place amid her coarse +surroundings and that she is not happy there? + + +5 + +I have been expecting her for a week. I am wishing with all my might +that she may come; I am drawing her with my eyes, with my smile, with my +manner and with my will. But I say nothing to her. She must be able to +take to herself all the credit of this first act of independence. +Moreover, it will give me the evidence which I require of some sympathy +between us. + +Outwardly, I am following a strict principle. Really, I am yielding to a +fear: am I not about to perform a dangerous and rather mad action, in +once more taking upon myself the responsibility of another's life? + +We are not always unaware of the follies which we are about to commit; +but it is natural that the immediate joys should eclipse the probable +misfortunes and help us to go boldly forward. + +Besides, the inquisitive know no weariness. They go with outstretched +hand to the assistance of events, heedless of increasing the chances of +suffering, because they always find, in return, something to occupy +their restlessness. Let us not blame them. In contemplating the good or +evil outcome of an action, we behold but its main lines; we do not see +the thousand little broken strokes that go to compose it. They make the +total of our days; and they have to be lived. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +1 + +A broad avenue of beeches stretches in front of our garden; and at the +far end is the open country. Here we have placed a seat which looks out +over space. Nothing but fields and fields, as far as the eye can reach; +nothing but land and sky. We love the security of this elemental +landscape, where the alternations of light succeed one another +inexorably. The noontides are fierce and dazzling. The soft, opalescent +mornings are fragrant with love and pleasure. But, most of all, the +sunsets attract us by their unwearied variety, sometimes sober and +tender, ever fainter and more ethereal, sometimes blood-red, monstrous +and barbaric. + +The one which I watched to-day was pale and grey; and the obedient earth +humbly espoused its gentle tones. With my hands clasped in my lap, it +seemed to me that I was drinking in the peace that filled my heart; and +my eyes, which unconsciously fastened on my hands, held for a moment my +whole life enclosed there. + +Then I heard indistinctly steps approaching me. A woman sat down on the +bench. The corner of her apron had brushed against my knees; I raised my +head and saw the young girl sitting by my side. + +She said, simply: + +"Here I am." + +And at this short speech my mind is in a tumult; thoughts rush wildly +through my brain without my being able to follow one of them. I press +her hands, I look at her, I laugh, while little cries of delight burst +from my lips: + +"You are here at last! I was expecting you! Do you know that you are +very pretty ... and that you look sweet and kind?... Make haste and tell +me all about yourself...." + +But she does not answer. She stares at me with wide-open eyes; and my +impulsive phrases strike with such force against her stupefaction that +each one of them seems by degrees to fall back upon myself. I in my turn +am left utterly dumfounded; she is so ill at ease that I myself become +nervous; her astonishment embarrasses me; I secretly laugh at my own +discomfiture; and I end by asking, feebly: + +"What's your name?" + +"Rose." + +"Rose ... Roseline.... My name is...." + +And I burst out laughing. We were really talking like two children +trying to make friends. I threw my arm round her waist and put my lips +to her cheek. I loved its milky perfume. My kiss left a little white +mark which the blood soon flushed again. + +She told me that she had seen me from a distance and that she had come +running up without stopping. I was careful not to ask her what she +wanted to tell me, for I knew that she had obeyed my wishes rather than +her own; and I led her towards the house: + +"Rose, my dear Rose.... I know that you are unhappy." + +She stops, gives me a quick look and then turns red and lowers her eyes. +Thereupon, so as not to startle her, I ask her about her work and about +the farm. + +Rose answers shily, in short sentences, and we walk about in the garden. +From time to time, she stops to pull up a weed; methodically, she breaks +off the flowers hanging faded from their stalks; occasionally, she makes +a reference, full of sound sense, to the care required by plants and +vegetables. But my will passes like an obliterating line over all that +we say, over all that we do; and, while Rose anxiously tries to fill the +silence, I lie in wait, ready for a word, a sigh, a look that will +enable me to go straight to the heart of that soul, which I am eager to +grasp even as we take in our hand a mysterious object of which we are +trying to discover the secret. + +Alas, the darkness between us is too dense and there is only the light +of her beautiful eyes, those sad, submissive eyes, to guide my pity! Our +conversation is somewhat laboured; the girl evades any direct question; +and any opinion which I venture to form can be only of the vaguest. + +She seems to me to be lacking in spirit, of a nervous and despondent +temperament, but not unintelligent. I know nothing of her mental powers. +We sometimes see an active intelligence directing very inferior +abilities, just as our good friend the dog is an excellent shepherd to +his silly, docile flock. In her, the most ordinary ideas are so +logically dovetailed that one is tempted to accept them even when one +hesitates to approve them. Her mind must be free from baseness, for +throughout our conversation she made no effort to please me. Would it +not have needed a very quick discernment, a very uncommon shrewdness to +know so soon that she would please me better like that? + +That was what I said to myself by way of encouragement, so great was my +haste to pour into her ears those instinctive words of hope and +independence which it was natural to utter. And, let them be premature +or tardy, barren or fruitful, I could not refrain from speaking them.... + +But suddenly she released herself: it was already past the time for +milking the cows; they must be waiting for her. Nevertheless, she gave a +shrug of the shoulders which implied that she cared little whether she +was late or not; and, with a "Good-bye till to-morrow!" she went off +heavily, making the ground ring with the steady tramp of her wooden +shoes. + +For an instant I stood motionless in the orchard. Her shrill voice still +sounded in my ears; and the constraint of her attitude oppressed me. The +road by which she had just gone was now hardly visible. A fog rose from +the sea and gradually blotted out everything. The plains, the hills, the +cottages vanished one by one; and already, around me, veils of mist +clung to the branches of the apple-trees. At regular intervals, the boom +of the fog-horn startled the silence. + + +2 + +Those who pass through our life and who will simply play a part there +take shape in successive images. The first, a fair but illusive picture, +fades away as another sadly obtrudes itself; and another, paler yet, +comes in its turn; and thus they all vanish, becoming less and less +distinct until the end, until the day when a last, vague outline is +fixed in our memory. + +How different is the process in the case of those who are to remain in +our existence and blend with it for all time! It is then as though the +living reality at the very outset shattered the image formed by our +admiration and triumphantly took its place. In point of fact, it +vivifies it and, later, heightens it, colours it, ever enriching it with +all the benefits which the daily round brings to healthy minds. Those +beings will always remain with us, whatever happens; they will be more +present in their absence than things which are actually present; and the +taste, the colour, the very life itself of our life will never reach us +except through them. + +I thought of all this vaguely. There were two women before me: one, +coarse and awkward, was obliterating the other, so beautiful amid the +ripe corn. Alas, should I ever see that other again? Was she not one of +those images which fade out of our remembrance, becoming ever paler and +more shadowy? + +I felt a little discouraged. But perhaps the sadness of the hour was +influencing me? My feminine nerves must be affected by this damp, warm +mist. I went back to the house, doing my utmost simply to think that I +was about to undertake a "rather difficult" task. + +Under the lamp, which the outside pall had caused to be lit earlier than +usual, and in the brightness of the red-and-white dining-room, decked +with gorgeous flowers, I discovered another side to my interview. While +I was describing it laughingly, my disappointment had seemed natural; +and, my eagerness being now reinforced by pity, a new fervour inspired +my curiosity. + +In sensitive and therefore anxious natures, the very excess of the +sensation makes the impression received subject to violent reaction. It +goes up and down, down and up; and not until it slackens a little can +reason intervene and bring it to its normal level. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +1 + +I have before me one of those little exercise-books whose covers are gay +with pictures of soldiers or rural scenes. It is Rose's diary. I +received it this morning, I have read it and it has left me both pleased +and touched. + +It is a very simple and rather commonplace narrative, but one which, in +my eyes, has the outstanding merit of sincerity. To me it represents the +story of a real living creature, of a woman whom I saw yesterday, whom I +shall see to-morrow and whose suffering is but a step removed from my +happiness. The smallest details of that story have a familiar voice and +aspect.... + +Poor girl! Would not one think that an evil genius had taken pleasure in +playing with her destiny, like a child playing at ball? She was born of +poor parents. Her father, a carpenter, was a drunkard and frequently out +of work. He would often come home at night intoxicated, when he would +beat his wife and threaten to kill her. Coarse scenes, visions of +murder, screams, oaths and suppressed weeping were the first images and +the first sounds that stamped themselves on Rose's memory. One's heart +bleeds to think of those child-souls which open in the same hour to the +light of day and to horror, gaining their knowledge of life whilst +trembling lest they should lose it. We see them caught in a hurricane of +madness, like little leaves whirling in the storm; and to the end of +their days they will shudder at the thought of it. + +She was left an orphan at the age of six. A neighbour offered to take +her, a wealthy and devout old man, who sent her to the Nuns of the +Visitation at the neighbouring town. + +Of those quiet, uneventful years in the convent there is nothing in +particular to record. The child is perfectly happy, nor could she be +otherwise, for she is naturally reasonable and she is in no danger of +forgetting how kind fate has been to her. She pictures what she might +have been, she sees what she is; and her soul is full of gladness. + +In January 18--, Rose is seventeen. She is to pass her examinations the +following summer. Her diary here gives evidence of a steadfast and +wholehearted optimism; she views the future with joyous eyes, or rather +she does not see it at all, which is the surest way of smiling at it +cheerfully. Her eyes are still the eyes of a child, to whom the +convent-garden is a world and the present hour an eternity. + +Unfortunately, she had a rude awakening to life. The old man who had +adopted her died after a few days' illness, without having time to make +arrangements for her future. The good sisters at once wrote to her +grandmother; and, the next day, Rose was packed off to Sainte-Colombe +with a parcel of indulgences, a few sacred medals and a scapular round +her neck. What more can a young life want to stay its uncertain steps? + + +2 + +From that moment, I see her delicate profile stand out against a +background of pain and sorrow, like a lovely cameo whose dainty +workmanship has been obliterated by the hand of time. Moral suffering +can refine and accentuate the character of a beautiful face, is indeed +nearly always kind to it. But here the mental distress was only the +feeble reflection of a crushing and deadening material torture. In the +evenings, when the hour of rest came at last, Rose, exhausted, accepted +it dully; her whole body called for oblivion; her heavy eyelids drooped; +and her submerged wretchedness had no time for tears. + +How could the poor girl make any resistance? Her environment was too +hostile, her disposition too gentle and the task laid upon her too +oppressive. + +The very look of her diary, during those Sainte-Colombe days, tells us +her story far better than the words which it contains. The first few +pages are filled with wild and incoherent sentences. There are passages +that can scarcely be deciphered and others blotted with tears. Her +suffering is not sufficiently well-expressed for it to be understood and +more or less identified, but it can be felt and divined: it is a +landscape of pain, it is the sight of an inner life which has received a +grievous wound and whose blood is gushing forth in torrents. + +And then hope is exhausted drop by drop; and with it go anger and +resistance. Everything goes under, grows still and silent. For months, +Rose hardly touches her diary: here and there, scattered on pages +bearing no date, are occasional melancholy reflections, the last +flickers of an expiring consciousness.... + +It is then, no doubt, that one day she flies to death for deliverance. +She is saved, but for a long time remains ill and weak. When she +recovers her health, her spirit is finally broken. In silence and gloom, +she drowns all feeling in work too heavy for her strength. + + +3 + +In the district they blame this young girl who, after receiving a good +education, has acquiesced in this miserable existence. And yet I find a +thousand reasons which explain her conduct and cannot find one for +condemning it. Rose's soul is still in the chrysalis-stage. Ignorant of +her own strength and qualities, how could she make use of them? + +Is not this the case with most young girls? If our moral transformations +could bring about physical changes, if a woman, like a butterfly, had to +pass through different phases before attaining her perfect state, we +should almost always see her stop at the first and die without even +approaching the second. + +It is difficult enough for us merely to conceive that there are other +roads to follow than that laid down for us by chance or by parents too +often shortsighted; and when we make the discovery, our first dreams of +liberty appear so momentous and so dangerous! Is it not just then that +we need time to venture upon the most lawful actions, seeing that we +have no sense of their real proportion? + +It is as though a wall separated the life that is forced upon us from +the life which we do not know. Little by little, slowly, by instinct as +much as by volition, we withdraw from the wall and it seems to become +lower. The sky above us becomes vaster, the horizon is disclosed before +our eyes and we at last distinguish what is happening on the other side. +Ah, what sight would compare with that, if it broke suddenly upon our +vision, if we could view life as we view the spreading country beneath +us, when we stand on the summit of a tower! All our senses, being +equally affected, would impart to our will a motive force which is, on +the contrary, dissipated by the tardiness of our feeble comprehension. + +Yes, an age comes when our vision is clear and true; but often it is too +late to find a way out of the circle in which we are imprisoned. That is +the secret tragedy of many women's lives. + +What would one not give to tell them, those women who tremble and weep, +to lift their minds high enough to see beyond their wretchedness! Let +them develop and strengthen themselves while still under the yoke, in +order to throw it off one day like a gossamer garment which one casts +aside without giving it a thought!... + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +1 + +I am happy. Wonderful flowers lie at my feet, flowers which have been +plucked and flung aside: I will pick them all up again, all of them! I +will gather them in my arms and steep myself in their scent! One by one, +I will tend them till they lift their heads again, I will blend them +cunningly; and, when I have bound the fair sheaf, fate may do its worst! + +It is no longer a question of the sanity or insanity of my experiment, +or my wisdom or unwisdom. There is a just action to be accomplished; +and, this time, circumstances favour my plans. In her distress, in her +horror of her present life, all the possibilities of deliverance might +have offered themselves to the girl: she would not have seen them, she +would even have fled from them instinctively, timid as an animal too +long confined. To save her, therefore, chance must take to itself a +substance and a name. Can I not be that chance? + +She suffers; I will give her joy. She is tormented; I will give her +peace again. She knows not liberty; through me she will know its +rapture. Once already she has been snatched from death, but, on that +day, while they were carrying Rose to the presbytery, her long, golden +tresses wept along the wayside. But I will carry her where she pleases. +She shall be free and happy; and her hair shall laugh around her face. +It shall help me to light her destiny, for beauty is a beacon for +benighted hearts. Many will try to steer their course towards my +Roseline. It will be easy for her to choose her happiness. + +True, I am aware how perilous and uncertain is my experiment. Will it be +possible to efface the evil impress left on that mind and body? How much +of her early grace, her early vigour shall we find? What will have +become of all the forces that, at seventeen, should still be frail as +promises, tender as the little green shoots of a first spring-day? + +But no matter? The impulse is irresistible and nothing can stay me now. +Have no misgivings, Rose: hand in hand we will go through peril and +suspense. Embrace the hope which I offer you: I will bring it to pass. +Let nothing astonish you: all that is happening between us to-day is +natural. You will go hence because it is right that you should go; and +you will go of your own free will. It is not so much my heart which will +bring you comfort; it is rather your heart which will open. I shall find +in you all the good that you will receive from me. + + +2 + +I send for the girl without further delay. A fortnight has elapsed since +we first talked together; and I am anxious to know the result. + +I look at her. A different woman is before my eyes. Is it a mistake? Is +it an illusion? No, it is all quite simple; and my words had no need to +be forcible or brilliant. The word that shows a glimpse of hope to the +sufferer has its own power. + +She says nothing and I dare not question her. The wisdom that has made +her understand how serious the effect of my plans may be must also make +her fear their possible flippancy. + +I have brought her into the dining-room. Sitting at the window, with her +hands folded in her lap and her head bowed, she remains there without +moving, heedless of the sun that is scorching her neck. Her wide-eyed +gaze wanders over things which it does not take in; her lips, +half-parted in a smile, betray the indecision of her soul. At last, +blushing all over her face, she stammers out: + +"I am frightened. You have awakened my longings, my dreams. I am +frightened. I would rather be as I was before I knew you, when I only +wanted to die. When your message was brought to the farm, I swore that I +would not come; and yet ... here I am!" + +I put my arm round her neck: + +"It's too late," I whispered, kissing her. "To discuss the idea of +rebellion means to give way to it. Resist no longer, Roseline; let +yourself go." + +Her incredulous eyes remained fixed on mine; and she said, slowly: + +"There is one thing that puzzles me. How am I to express it? I should +like to know why you take so much interest in me: I am neither a friend +nor a relation." And she added, with a knowing air, "You see, what you +are doing doesn't seem quite natural!" + +My heart shrank. So this peasant, this rough, simple girl knew the laws +of the world! She knew that, even in the manner of doing good, there are +customs to be followed, "conventions to be observed!" Ah, poor Rose, +though your instinctive reason is like a broad white fabric which +circumstances have not yet soiled, your character already has ugly +streaks in it; the voice of the multitude spoke through your lovely +mouth and, for a brief second, it became disfigured in my eyes! Alas, if +I wore a queer head-dress and a veil down my back and a chaplet hanging +by my side and said to you, "My child, I wish to save your soul," would +you not think my insistence quite simple and natural? + +Taking her poor, deformed hands in mine, I knelt down beside her: + +"Rose, the happiness which I find in helping you is a sufficient motive +for me; and I will offer you no others.... I give you my confidence +blindly, for one can do nothing without faith. I give you my confidence +and I ask for yours. Will you vouchsafe it me?" + +The sun is streaming upon us; our faces are close together; my smile +calls for hers; my eyes gaze into hers; and I repeat my prayer. + +Then she whispers, shily: + +"You see ... I have been deceived once; perhaps you don't know...." + +I interrupted her: + +"I know that we must have been deceived twenty times before we learn to +give our confidence blindly, like a little child!... I know that we +must have been perpetually deceived before we understand that nothing +proves anything; that everything is unforeseen, inconsistent, and +unexpected; and that we must just simply 'believe,' because it is good +to believe and because it is sweet to offer to others what we ourselves +are unhappy enough to lack." + +She went on: + +"But what do you want me to do?" + +"I want you to go away from here." + +"Why?" + +"Because you are wretched here." + +"Has any one said so?" + +"What does it matter what any one has said? I have only to look at you +to see that you are not happy. Oh, please don't regard this as an act of +charity, I would not even dare to talk about kindness! The interest that +impels me is one which you do not yet know; it looks to none for +recompense; it is its own reward. It is the mere joy, the mere delight +of knowledge.... Do you understand?" + +She shook her head; and I began to laugh: + +"I suppose I really am a little obscure!... But why do you force me to +explain myself now? You learn to understand me by degrees.... I am +leading you towards a goal of which I am almost as ignorant as you are; +I am only the guide waving a hand towards the roads which he himself has +taken and never knowing what the traveller will see or feel in the +depths of his being." + +She was going to speak, but I placed my hand on her lips: + +"Hush! I ask nothing more of you. I shall know how to win your +confidence." + +I feel that she is silenced but not convinced. Hers is not a character +to be thus persuaded: she will wait for deeds before judging the +sincerity of words. I feel clearly that she is searching and judging me, +while I myself am engaged in discovering her; and I shall have some +curiosity in bending over the untroubled waters of that soul in order to +see my image there, as soon as there is sufficient light to reflect my +image. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +1 + +Rose is already almost happy. Hope is penetrating her life; and the +moments of rest filter into her days of wearisome toil like the cool +water trickling through the rocks. + +As soon as she can get away on any excuse, she runs across to me. +Flushed and laughing, she hurls herself into my arms with all the +violence of a catastrophe; she crushes my cheek with a vehement kiss +which waits for no response; and my hair catches in the rough hands +squeezing my head. Smiling, I cannot help warding off the attack, while +she pours out a torrent of incoherent words at the top of her voice.... + +During our early talks, I tried speaking very quietly, as a hint that +she should do the same. She would shake the house with the thunder of +her most intimate confidences, bellowed after the fashion of the +peasants, who are accustomed to keep up a conversation from one end of a +field to the other. As I obtained no result, I had to speak to her +about it; and, because I did so as delicately as possible, in order not +to wound her feelings, she burst into a roar of laughter which showed me +that her rustic life had robbed her of all sensitiveness. + +Being now authorised to admonish her at all times with regard to her +gestures, her voice and her accent, I often make her repeat the same +sentence; and, when I at last hear her natural voice, her original sweet +and attractive voice, to which the music is beginning to return, shily +and timidly, my heart overflows with joy. But, two minutes after, she is +again bawling out her most trivial remarks, with a cheerful unconcern +that disarms my wrath. Then I plead for silence as I would for mercy, +draw her down upon my lap, take her head in my arms and nurse her as I +would a child. + + +2 + +The stillness is so intense in the grove where we are sitting side by +side, I am so anxious for her to feel it, that I become impatient and +irritable. When I am with her, I am in a perpetual ferment. Her beauty +and her coarseness hurt me, like two ill-matched colours that attract +and wound the eyes. I calm myself by scattering all my thoughts over her +promiscuously; and, though most of them are carried away by the wind, I +imagine that I am sprinkling them on her life to make it blossom anew. + +"I am nursing you in my arms to wake you, my Roseline, just as one +nurses children to put them to sleep. See what poor creatures we are! As +a rule, it is the conventions and constraint of our upbringing, with all +its artificiality and falsehood, that divide us. To-day, it is the +opposite that rises between you and me and spoils our happiness! I have +often longed to meet a woman who was so simple as to be almost +uncivilised; and, now that you are here, I dread your gestures and your +voice, which grate upon me and annoy me!" + +"But am I not simple?" Rose asks, ingenuously. + +"People generally confuse simplicity with ignorance, too often also with +silliness--which is not the case with you," I added, with a smile. +"Real, that is to say, conscious simplicity is not even recognised; and, +when it becomes active, it appears to vulgar minds a danger that must be +averted. The better to attack it, they disfigure it. It is this proud +and noble grace that I want you to acquire. Look, it may be compared +with this diamond which I wear on my finger. The stone is absolutely +simple; and yet through how many hands has it passed before becoming so! +How many transformations has it undergone! How magnificent is its bare +simplicity when set off by the plain gold ring! It is the same with us. +For simplicity to be beautiful in us, we must have cut and polished our +soul and person many times over. Above all, we must have learnt the +harmony of things and become fixed in that knowledge, like the stone +which you see held in these gold claws." + +She asked, with an effort to modulate her voice: + +"Oughtn't I to take you for my model?" + +"No, Rose! You frighten me when you say that! You must not think of it. +Listen to me: if ever we are permitted to imitate any one, it is only in +the pains which she herself takes to improve herself. As for me, I +wanted to achieve simplicity and I looked for it as one looks for a spot +that is difficult to reach and easy to miss. For a long time, I wandered +beyond it. Rather than stoop to false customs, to lying conventions, I +followed the strangest fancies.... Now it all makes me laugh." + +"Makes you laugh?" + +"Yes, past errors are dead branches that make our present life burn +more brightly. But, when I see how I judge my former selves, I become +suspicious as to what I may soon think of my actual self; and therefore +I do not wish you to take me as an example." + +Rose was still lying in my arms; and her beautiful eyes were looking up +at me. I raised her head in my hands and whispered, tenderly: + +"I feel that you understand me, that my words touch you, that you trust +me and that you love me deep down in your heart; I feel that you also +will soon be able to speak and unburden yourself freely, to be silent +amid silence and peaceful amid the peace of things...." + + +3 + +The girl rose to her feet, with a glint of emotion animating her +features; and, as though to escape my eyes, she took a few steps in the +garden. While she was hidden by the bend of the narrow path fenced by +the tall sunflowers, my heart was filled with misgiving: her step was so +heavy, so clumsy! Would she ever be able to improve her walk? Judging by +the ponderous rhythm of her hips, one would always think that she was +carrying invisible burdens at the end of each of her drooping arms.... + +But she soon returned; and her fair countenance was so adorable amid the +golden glory of the great flowers that I could not suppress a cry of +admiration. She came towards me smiling; and, to protect herself a +little from the blinding sunlight, she was holding both hands over her +head. Was it simply the curve of her raised arms that thus transfigured +her whole bearing, that reduced the unwieldiness of her figure and made +its lines freer? It was, no doubt; but it was also the soft breeze which +now blew against her and accentuated the movement of her limbs by +plastering her thin cotton skirt against them. And the heavy gait now +seemed stately; and the excessive stride appeared virile and bold. I +watched the humble worker in the fields, the poor farm-girl; and I +thought of the proud _Victory_ whom my mind pictured enfolding all the +beauties of the Louvre in her mighty wings! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +1 + +We were lying in the long grass, looking up at the sky through the +branches of the apple-trees and watching the clouds drift past. + +The light was fading slowly, the leaves became dim, the birds stopped +singing. + +"Rose, I do nothing but think of you. Who are you? What will become of +you? I should like to anticipate everything, so as to save you every +pain. Had you been happy and well-cared-for, I would have wished you +trouble and grief. But, strengthened as you now are by many trials, you +will be able to find in sorrows avoided and only seen in the distance +all the good which we usually draw from them by draining them to the +dregs." + +"I am not afraid, I expect to be unhappy." + +"I hope that you will not be unhappy. The change will be quite simple if +it is wisely brought about; you will drop out of your present life like +a ripe fruit dropping from its stalk." + +"How shall I prepare myself?" + +"So far, your chief merit has been patience. But now rouse yourself, +look around you, judge, find out your good and bad qualities." + +Rose interrupted me: + +"My good qualities! Have I any?" + +"Indeed you have: plenty of common sense, a great power of resistance, +shrewdness. By means of these, you have been able to subdue the tyranny +of others: can you not escape from that of your failings? Your life has +adapted itself to an evil and stupid environment; it must now adapt +itself to the environment of your own self." + + +2 + +From the neighbouring farms came the plaintive, monotonous cry calling +the cattle home. The drowsy sky became one universal grey, while the +night dews covered the earth with a faint haze. + +"I am surprised that, when you were so unhappy, solitude did not appear +to you in the light of a beautiful dream." + +Rose's timid and astonished voice echoed my last words: + +"A beautiful dream! Then do you like solitude?" + +"Oh, Rose, I owe it the greatest, the only joys of my childhood! It was +to gain solitude that, later, I set myself to win my independence, +knowing that, if I did not meet with the love I wished, I should yet be +happier alone than among others." + +"But, still, you do not live alone!" + +I remained silent for a moment, stirred by that question which filled my +mind with the thought of my own happiness; and then I said in a whisper, +as though speaking to myself: + +"Rose, my present life is the most exquisite form of independence and +solitude." + +And I went on: + +"Ah, Rose, to know how to be alone! That is the finest conquest that a +woman can make! You cannot imagine my rapture when I first found myself +in a home of my own, surrounded by all the things purchased by my work. +When I came in at the end of the day, my heart used to throb with +gladness. No pleasure has ever seemed to equal that blessed harmony +which reigned and reigns in my soul or that assured peace which no one +can take from me, because it depends only on my mood." + +"Teach me that joy." + +"It is only a brighter light of our own consciousness, a more detached +and loftier contemplation of what affects us, a truer way of seeing and +understanding...." + +The girl murmured: + +"Shall I ever have it?" + +"Later, when you have gone away." + +And, in response to her anxious sigh, I went on, confidently: + +"And you will go away when you want to go as badly as I did, when your +object is not so much to escape unhappiness as to secure happiness; for, +when you become what I hope to see you, you will look at things so +differently! You will pity those about you, you will not judge them. The +irksome duties laid upon you will not be a burden to you. You will +understand the beauty of the country for the first time; and the thought +of leaving it will reveal its sweetness to you. But, on the other hand, +fortunately, new reasons for going will appeal to your conscience: +first, your just pride in what you are and what you may become; the +sense of your independence; and the vision of a wider and nobler +existence. And, in this way, you will go not to escape annoyance or to +please me, but as a duty towards yourself." + + +3 + +It was the silent hour when nature seems to be awaiting the darkness. +Not a breath, not a sound, while the colours of the day vanish one by +one before the life of the evening has yet begun to throb. + +I turned to my companion. With a great labourer's knife in her hand, she +was solemnly whittling a piece of wood. She answered my enquiring +glance: + +"It is to fasten to Blossom's horns; she's getting into bad ways...." + +And, quickly, fearing lest she had hurt me, she added: + +"I was listening, you know!" + + +4 + +Standing in the porch, we breathe the scent of the rose-trees laden with +roses. It has been raining heavily. Tiny drops drip from leaf to leaf; +the flowers, for a moment bowed down, raise their heads; the birds +resume their singing; and, in the sunbeams that now appear, slanting and +a little treacherous, the pebbles on the path glitter like precious +stones. + +We had taken shelter, during the storm, inside the house, where we sat +eating sweets, laughing and talking without restraint. But now Rose is +uneasy; she looks at me and says, abruptly: + +"Do you love me?" + +"I cannot tell you yet." + +She insists, coaxingly: + +"Do tell me!" + +"Darling, I have become very chary of words like that, for I know what +pain we can give if, after our lips have uttered them, they are not +borne out by all our later acts. As we grow in understanding, I believe +that it becomes more difficult for us to distinguish the exact value of +the friendship which we bestow." + +"Why?" + +"For the very reason that we grow at the same time less capable of +hatred, contempt and indifference. If a fellow-creature is natural, he +interests us by the sole fact of the life which he represents; and, if +circumstances make us meet him often, it will be hard for us to be +certain whether what we are actually lavishing upon him is friendship +or only interest." + +She seemed to like listening to me; and I continued in the same strain: + +"A moment, therefore, comes when our understanding is like a second +heart, a heart that seems to anticipate and complete the other, by +giving perfect security to its movements...." + +A breath of wind passed and stripped the petals from a rose that hung in +the doorway. And our shoulders were covered with little scented wings. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +1 + +Beside the house, two old cypresses make great pools of shadow in the +bright, green garden. Motionless, they keep a pious and jealous watch +over the stone fountain whose basin seems to round itself into an +obliging mirror for their benefit. Here, amid the cool stillness, the +running water murmurs its unceasing orison. + +I make Rose sit beside the fountain and slowly I begin unbinding her +hair. + +Oh, the beauty of the honey-coloured waves that roll down her shoulders +and frame her face in their sweetness! Again and again I lifted and +shook out those long-imprisoned tresses, giving them life and liberty at +last. Rose, following the ancient fashion of our Norman peasant-women, +does her hair into a mass of tight little plaits, twisted so cruelly as +to forbid all freedom. + +The better to efface the impress of their tyrannical past, I had to dip +them into water. They opened out, like sea-weed. + +I had brought rich materials, jewels and flowers for Rose's adornment. +All her beauty, so long hidden, was at last to stand revealed. I knew +its potency, I divined its splendour; but her hair was too barbarously +done, her garments too coarse and rough for me to discover the character +of her beauty or say what constituted its nobility. + +Rose, still smiling, held her head back patiently and, with closed eyes, +gave herself over to my tender mercies. Then another picture, a similar +picture, but tragic and now fading into dimness, rose in my mind; and, +almost in spite of myself, I said, softly: + +"Your long hair must have floated like this, I expect, on the day when +you wished to die. And it must have been its splendour that would not +suffer such a catastrophe. I wonder, dear, that you should have wished +that, you who are so faint-hearted in the presence of life!" + +Her forehead, bronzed by the summer suns, turned a warmer colour, like a +ripe apricot; the veins on her temples swelled a little; and she +murmured: + +"I don't know ... I don't know...." + +I made fruitless efforts to find out the cause of her embarrassment; +her face clouded; and she said nothing more. Then, after doing up her +hair, I began to drape a material around her. I was thoroughly enjoying +myself. Rose noticed it and asked me why I was smiling. + +"Why?" I cried. "Why? Oh, of course, you are incapable at present of +understanding the pleasure which I feel! And how many are there who +could distinguish its true quality? People admire the new-blown flower, +they are touched by a child's first smile, they travel day and night to +stand on a mountain-top and see the dawn conquering the shadows of the +earth; and it is considered natural that, at such moments, our feminine +hearts, always ready to be poured out, should be filled with love and +incense. But it is thought strange that one of us should recognise and +greet the union of all the graces in the fairest of her sisters! And yet +one must be a woman to feel what I feel to-day, in unveiling and +adorning your beauty. For it charms me without intoxicating me, sheds +its radiance on me without dazzling me and makes my heart throb without +causing my hands to tremble.... When the lover for the first time +beholds the object of his love, longing clouds his eyes. Certainly, his +sentiment is no less noble or less great, but it is of a very different +nature! Other joys are mine, a thousand, new and glorious emotions, +emotions of the heart and of the mind, the childish and girlish joys of +dressing up, decorating and adorning, of creating form and colour, in a +word, beauty, the stuff of which happiness is made!" + +Rose interrupted me: + +"Happiness? Do you think so?" + +"Yes, because beauty calls for love. Does not our happiness as women lie +above everything in love?" + +Making one of those horrible movements with her feet, hands and +shoulders of which I had done my best to correct her, Rose expressed her +disgust with such violence as to undo the brooch with which I had just +fastened the folds of a long white drapery to her shoulders: + +"Oh," she cried, "I hate love, I hate it!" + +Then she covered her face with her open hands; slowly the material +slipped down to her waist; and her bust stood out against the dark +trees, white and pure as that of a marble statue. + +The great calm that is born of beauty compelled me to silence. Rose +remained without moving, untroubled by the nudity which, at any other +time, she would have refused to unveil. Did her emotion make her +unconscious, or was it, on the contrary, lifting her to a plane in which +false modesty had no place? Did she, in that brief minute, realise how +our actions change their values in proportion to the fineness of our +perception?... + +I threw my cloak round her and drew aside her hands: her face was wet +with tears. I cross-examined her: could she have suffered through love? + +"What is the matter, Roseline? Why are you so bitter against something +you have never experienced?" + +She tried to smile through her tears and said, innocently: + +"It's nothing.... It was like a shower: it's over now, quite over.... +You are right, I really don't know why love fills me with such horror!" + +And she came quietly and sat down again beside the fountain. + + +2 + +For the third time, I began to coil and uncoil her hair: + +"You see, I was wrong just now," I said, "when I uncovered your neck and +crowned your forehead. This is what suits you: the severe Roman style! +And, though that loathing which you expressed just now seems to me +unnatural, I feel almost tempted to excuse it in you, because it is so +much in keeping with your impassive loveliness." + +Kneeling in front of her, I tried to make the folds of the material +follow the natural curves of her body. Meanwhile, Rose seemed to be +watching other reflections in the water than ours. Suddenly, she leant +forward and put her beautiful bronzed arms round my neck; and I felt +that she was willing me to look up. Then I raised my head and, when we +were gazing into each other's eyes, she said, laying a sort of grave +stress on every syllable: + +"Do you forgive everything, absolutely everything?" + +"To answer yes is not answering half enough," I said. And, kissing her, +I added, "If you had to tell me of a serious fault, I should love to +give proof of my indulgence; but are you not the best of girls?" + +I had an impression, for a second, that she was hesitating and that I +was about to receive the solemn confession of a childish fault. But she +at once replied, in a decisive little way: + +"I could not be as indulgent as you, really!" + +"Because you are not so happy yet, my dearest.... Come, I have my own +reasons for spoiling you and coaxing you and wanting you to be +beautiful. I know what good fruits are born of those flowers of joy!... +But I have finished my work. Get up, Rose, come with me! Come and see +yourself a goddess!" + +And I carried her off to the drawing-room. + +Straight and slender in the long white folds falling to her feet, the +girl stands before the mirror and stares with astonishment at her +glorified image. Does she grasp the importance of this hour? Does she +reflect that, at this minute, one of the great secrets of her destiny +has been revealed to me by this woman's game which has given me a +child's pleasure? Does she know that the moment is grave, unmatched and +marvellous and that, by my friendly hands, chance is to-day showing her +the power which she can wield and the realm over which she can rule? + +Her everyday clothes are lying at her feet: the coarse chemise, the +barbarous bodice, the hat trimmed with faded ribbons. Ah, Roseline, why +cannot I as easily fling far from you all that imprisons your life and +fetters your soul! + +"You are beautiful!" I say to her. "You are beautiful! Do you know what +that means? Beauty is the source of happiness; and it is also the source +of goodness, forgiveness and indulgence! Your face, if you take pleasure +in looking at it, will teach you much better than I can what you must +be. It will make you kind and gentle and generous, if you have the wish +to be in perfect harmony with it. Thanks to your beauty, my Rose, you +will be able, if you have a true conception of its dignity, to achieve +one perfect moment in your life!" + +Alas, she does not share my enthusiasm! I take her hand, I lead her +through the house, into all the rooms which she does not know. I keep on +hoping that, in a new mirror, in a different light, she will at last +catch sight of herself as she is and that she will weep for joy!... + +Meanwhile, she accompanies me, serene and smiling, pleased above all at +my delight. In this way, we come to the last mirror; and my hopes are +frustrated. But, in truth, I am too much entranced with the vision which +she offers to my eyes to grieve at anything; and soon I am very much +inclined to think her admirable for not feeling what I should have felt +in her place. After disappointing me, the very excess of her coldness +captivates my interest; and my enthusiasm does not permit me to seek +commonplace or contemptible reasons for it. + +When admiration fills a woman's soul, it becomes nothing but an immense +cup brimming with light, a flower penetrated by the noon-day sun until +the heat makes its perfume overpowering. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +1 + +The shadows lengthen when the sun descends in the heavens; and those +which, in the broad light, enhance the brilliancy of all things now +overspread and gradually extinguish them. Thus do our anxieties increase +when our joy lessens; and those which made us smile in the plenitude of +our happiness before long make us weep.... + +She has lied to me! I am sure now that she has lied! What has she done? +What can she be hiding from me? I can imagine nothing that could kill +the interest which I take in her, but she has lied! I was certain of it +yesterday, after our talk, when I remembered her blushes and her +embarrassment. I wanted to write to her then and could not. Darkness has +fallen suddenly between her and me; and I no longer know to whom I am +speaking; I no longer know what soul hears me nor at what heart I +knocked! + +A friend's lie hurts us even more than it humiliates us; it tells us +that we have not been understood and that we inspire distrust or fear. I +remember saying to her, one day: + +"I would rather know that you hate me than ever feel that you fear me. +You must hide nothing from me, unless you want to wound me deeply; for +the person to whom we feel obliged to lie is much more responsible for +our lie than even we are." + +But how can I hope that every one of my words will be remembered and +understood and turned to account! I enjoy talking into the soul of this +great baby as one likes singing in an unfurnished house; and I am none +the less conscious of the illusion of it all. If we are to influence a +fellow-creature, we do so best without aiming at it too carefully. +Success comes with time, by intercourse and example. + + +2 + +We are now on the threshold of autumn and the days are already short. By +seven o'clock, all the farms are sleeping.... + +When I left Rose yesterday, it was understood that she should sometimes +come to see me in the evening, when her day's work has not been too +hard. She is to come across the downs and tap at the shutters of the +room where I sit every evening after dinner. + +To-day, I was hoping that she would not come and I gave a start of +annoyance when I heard her whisper outside the window: + +"Mummy! Mummy, dear!" + +It is a name which she sometimes gives me in play. Women who have no +children and do not expect ever to have any lend to all their emotions +an extra tenderness, an extra solicitude. It is that unemployed force in +our hearts which is striving for union with others. + +Still, her affection displeased me this evening and, while I was putting +on a wrap, my hands trembled with irritation. Rose, thinking that I had +not heard her, raised her voice a little and repeated: + +"Mummy! It's your little girl!" + +I go out into the moonless, starless night, with my eyes still full of +the light indoors; and our hands meet blindly before exchanging a +pressure. She says good-evening and I kiss her without answering. I am +afraid of betraying my ill-humour; I feel that I am hard and spiteful, +but I hope that the mood will pass; and my anger, because it remains +unspoken, takes a form that favours forgiveness. If she confesses of her +own accord, without being impelled to do so by my attitude, I know that +my confidence in her will revive. + +We walk in silence through the sombre avenue. The night seems darker +because no sound disturbs its stillness; only the dead leaves, swept +along by our skirts, drag along, utter a cry like rending silk. + +Rose sighed: + +"One would think the air was listening!" + +I could not help exclaiming: + +"That's rather fine, what you said then!" + +And silence closes in again around our two little lives, both doubtless +stirred by one and the same thought. + +We go a little farther and sit down in the fields, where an unfinished +haystack offers us a couch. We can hardly distinguish the line of the +horizon between the dark earth and the dark sky. A bat flits across our +faces; and Rose says, quietly: + +"It's flying low. That means fine weather to-morrow. I must get in +the...." + +And suddenly her voice breaks and she covers her face with her hands. +All is silent.... + +I feel myself brutally good. The certainty of the coming confession +encourages me in my coldness and I remain mute, while my heart is +beating with pity and excitement.... + +But she speaks at last and each note of that tear-filled voice, by turns +faltering, violent and plaintive, brings before my eyes, staring into +the darkness, every step of her soul's calvary. I listen in +astonishment. And yet do we not know that every woman's existence has +its secret? I see the long procession of those who have told me their +story. The weakest of them had found strength to love; to yield to man's +desire, the bravest had been cowardly, the truest had betrayed, the most +loyal and upright had lied. Everywhen and everywhere the flame of life +had found its way through rocks, thrust aside obstacles, subjugated +wills. Even the woman whom nature had most jealously defended, the plain +woman whom I saw imprisoned in a stunted shape and condemned to live +behind an ugly mask, even she, when she told me her love-story, +compelled me to believe that she had been the most beloved, perhaps, and +her passion the most heroic. + +Rose, following the common law, had no strength to fulfil her own will, +but all strength to obey another's. Soon after arriving at +Sainte-Colombe, five years ago, she came to know a young man who had +since left the district. One day, when they were alone in the farmhouse +kitchen, he flung his arms around her and, without a word, overcame her +feeble resistance.... + +I could not help interrupting her story: + +"Did you love him, Rose?" + +"No," she said, "I did not!" + +"Then, why did you yield?... Why?" + +"I don't know," she sobbed. "He had such a strange, wild look, I was +frightened...." + +"But what did you do afterwards?" + +"He asked me to go and see him; and I went whenever he asked me...." + +"Then your godmother didn't know?" + +"She guessed it on the first day; and, when I refused to take anything +from him, she beat me and locked me up." + +"Well, what then?" + +"I managed to get out at night, by the roof...." + +I would not let the subject drop: + +"Then you were very, very happy when you were with him?" + +But she exclaimed, artlessly: + +"Oh, not at all! But he loved me, he said; and I thought that he would +always stay here, for my sake.... He went away soon, without letting me +know. When I understood that he was not coming back, I loathed myself +and him ... and I tried to do away with myself...." + +She burst into fresh sobs. + +I should have liked to rise and lead her away. I should have liked to +say: + +"Come, cease these repinings; let us walk across the silent fields and +forget all this for ever! Every one feels love differently and looks at +it in a different light. Come, waste no time in repentance and don't go +on being angry with that man! Faults that diminish our ignorance are not +faults, but almost graces which chance bestows upon us. Come! And break +away from the bitterness that is spoiling your beauty!" + +But, with a sigh, she leant her head on my shoulder and I sat motionless +and dumb: that little action on her part suddenly altered the whole +course of my feelings. + +At moments of deep emotion, many different voices speak in our hearts. +They seem to clash, to drown and contradict one another; but really +they are hesitating and waiting. Even as human voices require the +striking of a chord before harmonising, so do these inner voices wait +for our unhappy friend to speak a word that shall unconsciously give the +note of the thoughts that will comfort and soothe him. + +Rose whispered: + +"Oh, you do not speak! Your silence frightens me!" + +"Don't be afraid of it, dearest. Silence nearly always means that the +words which will follow will be just." And, summoning all my tenderness, +I added, "You see, I am trying to bind all my most diverse thoughts +together. I should like to hand them to you as I would a bunch of +flowers, for you to choose the one that will restore your peace of mind. +I am afraid of hurting you, I understand your wound so well." + +The girl presses against my breast; and our kisses meet in a spontaneous +outburst of affection.... + +Sadly I think of all those who are weeping, weeping over like sorrows. +There are other wounded hearts bleeding in mine; my memory echoes with +the mournful prayers of the poor deluded victims of love. Alas, we are +all subject to the cruel and exquisite law that absorbs the firmest +wills in its indifferent strength! + +I feel Roseline's hands quivering under my fingers, but I dare not +speak. The silence of the fields and the solemn darkness awe me. Do not +our least words seem to be written on the velvet of the night in +precious and lasting letters?... + + +3 + +At last, I wiped away her tears and long and gently tried to rally her. +But, suddenly drawing herself up, Rose cried: + +"I don't understand you, I no longer understand you! What you are saying +is just so much more silence and I wait for your judgment in vain! You +have, you must have, an opinion on what I have done. The reason why I +hesitated so long to confess my fault was because I knew instinctively +that you would blame me; and now I feel you so far from me.... Please +judge me, be angry with me: it will be easier for you to forgive me +afterwards!..." + +I do not know why this blind insistence offended me. Until then I had +remained calm; but at her words there burst from the depths of my being +the voice of instinct, that voice which I had tried to stifle, almost +unconsciously, by force of habit and training.... Oh, that blatant, +piercing voice! It seemed to me to rend the darkness, to scoff at my +heart and my sweet reasonableness! It was as though I saw all my kindly +dreams of tolerance and indulgence fly into a thousand splinters! Never +had I so clearly realised their brittleness. My anger was all the +greater because it was still trammelled by fragments of my reason. + +I placed my hands on her shoulders and shouted close to her face, which +my eyes could not distinguish: + +"Why, why will you rouse my instinct, my nerves, all those things which +should never interfere in our judgments and beyond which we should try +to look if we would understand the actions of others? You give the name +of silence to the words spoken by my reason and you wish to be judged by +a blind and senseless power! But that idiot power mercilessly condemns +all the faults committed in its name! That power, which is making me +tremble now with excitement, will tell you that you could have done +nothing worse! Do you understand? Nothing, nothing! And it will +overwhelm you with reproaches. For it is not your action that revolts +me; it is your apathy, your flabbiness, your cowardice!... You gave +yourself without knowing why! You did not surrender for the sake of the +joy that makes us fairer and better! You did not surrender because love +had taken your heart by storm! You did not sacrifice yourself to an +idea: had it been vile and base, I could still have accepted it! No, you +gave yourself without knowing why! You obeyed the will of the +first-comer, as the silliest and most docile of wives obeys the +recognised canons and conventions ... without knowing why!... Ah, Rose, +Rose! I wanted to help you to become strong and free. What a character, +what a disposition you bring me! And yet I did not ask so much! I wanted +your nature to have strength and flexibility, so that my hands might +have taken it and moulded it. I looked forward to shaping it and giving +it nobility and refinement...." + +Tears choked my words. At that moment, the disappointment appeared to me +complete and irreparable. Still, so as not to sadden her unduly, I +murmured: + +"Do not misunderstand me, my poor Rose; I am not saying that you soiled +yourself by yielding to that man. I should not care much if you had; +for, if the fairest forms could take birth from the mud in the gutter, +you would see me plunge my hands in it without reluctance. No, what +distresses me is your weakness; and I have simply likened your nature to +a substance without consistency and impossible to mould." + +Rose moaned and sobbed: + +"To please you, I will brave everything.... Don't forsake me!... Go on +loving me!..." + +I divined rather than saw the body lying prone, with her head on the +ground; and the paler shadow of her hair reminded me of the dear beauty +of her. I grew calmer. The comfort of having said all that I had to say +relieved my heart and sent rippling through my veins, like a cool +stream, a more natural indulgence than that which had animated me at +first. Bending over Rose, I reflected that reason weighs heavily on a +woman's breast and that it is well to thrust it aside occasionally. I +tried to reassure her between my kisses: + +"I am wrong to be so irritable and despondent; forgive me! I believe +that your nature will never be vivid or strong; but your newly-developed +conscience will save you from fresh weaknesses. Besides, in some +direction we shall find what you are capable of. Destiny asks little of +us when we have little to give it; and events pass us by of their own +accord. Your life can be gentle and passive and still be useful and +good. It is my own fault if I am disappointed: I am always more or less +of a child; and I become passionately enthusiastic on the strength of a +smile, or a pure outline, or a beautiful profile. I ought not to have +looked in you for what existed only in my imagination...." + +"Then you are no longer angry with me?" + +"Why should I be?" + +I kissed her tenderly. Poor child, so she had suffered through love! I +pitied her; and yet the happiness of knowing her a little better +swallowed up my pity. Things move quickly in those who, not believing in +heaven, seek upon earth the beginning and the end of life and all that +comes between. And they come to prefer to the highest joys those which +foster a clearer vision and a truer comprehension. + +And, trying to explain myself, I added: + +"One would think that a time comes when we judge like a traveller +looking out from the top of a tower. All the differences melt into unity +before his eyes. He turns slowly and sees, on the one side, the forest; +on the other, the sea; at his feet, the noisy town, the world; a little +farther, the calm and peace of the fields; and, overhead, the infinite +indifference of the skies. And, like him, we are engrossed in what we +discover and we no longer see the tower by which we climbed nor feel +that on which our feet stand; and we are nothing, nothing but a thinking +light that settles upon some life." + + +4 + +We lay stretched in the clover that was still warm from the heat of the +day; and our arms were locked and our hair intertwined. My cheek cooled +hers, which her tears had set on fire; and the sombre peace of the sky +sank into us. We were both filled with the peculiar happiness that comes +after a painful confession, a happiness whose source is a sense of +security, a joy that seems yearning to cover us with its wings for one +halcyon hour. + +"Rose, darling, never forget the feeling of relief which you have now. +That sense of security is infinitely precious. Let its fragrance remain +with you for ever. May it become impossible for you to do without it. +Seek it, insist upon it silently, even from the strangers whom you may +meet. Falsehood destroys the perfume and the bloom of women: it makes +them colourless and uniformly commonplace. Always have the courage to be +true. A sort of secret combat is waged between any two persons who meet +for the first time. Remember that, as a woman, you have always the +choice of weapons; and choose them frankly. In so doing, you will gain +courage and assurance and the great strength that springs from harmony, +from the perfect accord of our body, our mind and our speech. I do not +say that you will necessarily conquer with that weapon, but I do say +that, even if defeated, you will, contrary to the general rule, feel +mightier and more exultant than before!" + +A star appeared, a quiver ran through the trees near by and passed over +all the earth. The night was rising. + +I was at my ease beside my companion; our hearts were again at one. That +love-incident, however lacking in love, had brought her nearer to me. + +"I do not know which path you will choose, my Rose; but we all have two +roads by which to reach the goal for which we are making: to be or to +seem. The real lovers of life will always choose the first. They will +arrive later; perhaps they will never arrive. But, after all, what does +arriving mean?" + +Rose at once retorted: + +"Still, why have a goal, if not to reach it?" + +The girl's practical logic amused me; and our laughter rang out in +unison across the fields. + +"Rose, morally speaking, the goal is really the means which we employ to +attain it. It is a light which we voluntarily flash in front of our +footsteps. We can neither miss it nor reach it, because it moves with +us. It becomes greater or smaller or is renewed, according to the +evolution of our strength and our life...." + +We had risen from the ground and, as we talked, were slowly following +the path that skirts the orchard. Rose asked: + +"Cannot you more or less describe your goal, the one you are speaking +about?" + +I hesitated for a moment and, almost involuntarily, murmured: + +"To know a little more ... to see a little farther ... to understand a +little better...." + +Rose repeated, slowly and earnestly: + +"To know a little more ... to see a little...." + +But I laughingly stopped her, for the words sounded too serious in our +young souls. + +The orchard-gate closed between us. I was walking away, when Rose called +to me: + +"Come and kiss me again...." + +I ran back to her. She leant over the hedge and I could only just +distinguish her face. Then our lips met of themselves, like flowers that +touch. + +For a long time, in the still air, I heard her heavy footfall. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +1 + +Next day, Rose was with me early in the morning: + +"I could not sleep," she said. "I wanted to speak to you without tears +or blushes. If I have done wrong, I have atoned for it; and it is done +with. All that remained of it was a sad memory; and, now that I have +considered it with you, even that is gone." + +I look at her. Her appearance pleases me. Her step is firm, her cheeks +are pale, her eyes burning; she is living more ardently than usual. She +continues, with animation: + +"You said to me once that people who believe in another life seem to +sweep their sins and their remorse up to the doors of eternity. For us, +you said, who have not that illusion, everything is different: we do not +put off paying the bill for our sins. We can recognise their +consequences; and that is our expiation." And you added, proudly, "It is +cowardly to look to another for it, even if that other were God!" + +We are walking in the orchard. The long grass is bending under the +weight of the dew, which has decked it with a thousand glittering +jewels. As we pass by a tree laden with apples, Rose pulls a branch to +her and, without plucking the fruit, bites into it. I watch the lips +part and the white teeth meet and disappear in the juicy pulp. For a +second, the soft red mouth rounds over the fruit, which seems to match +its beauty and to be questioning Rose about her pitiful love-affairs. + +"Then, Rose dear, you were not really happy for a moment with your +lover?" + +"No." + +"But he was young, I suppose, and more or less good-looking?" + +She thinks for a moment and then bends her head. + +"You remember it, Rose?" + +The girl appears astonished and answers, hesitatingly: + +"It is five years ago, I don't remember now...." + +I was surprised in my turn and looked at her. What! She didn't remember! +She had forgotten that! Her lips had not retained the impress of the +first kiss! + +My eyes closed and from the background of my life a bygone moment rose, +one of those memories that linger in the hearts of women with such +fidelity and vividness that they lack not a scent, a sound, a line, a +word, a look, a gesture! + +I was twelve years old and he fifteen. It was at the seaside. Our +parents were talking a few steps away, but night was falling and a +fisherman's hut hid us from their eyes. He bent over to me and our lips +met in a simple kiss, simple as a flower with petals still unopened, for +we were both of us innocent.... + +I can still see the colour and the shape of the drifting clouds. I can +smell the mingled breath of the sea and of his boyish mouth. I can +remember how I felt as a frightened, trembling and enraptured little +girl.... A sailor was singing some way off; and the gulls that circled +between sea and sky seemed to be keeping the last rays of daylight upon +their white wings. + +Why, I know that boy's mouth by heart and shall always know it! We often +kissed again, without even dreaming that, at this game as at all games, +there might be room for progress!... And then ... and then ... that's +all I remember of him.... The next is another memory, at another place +and another age.... And then another again.... + + +2 + +Would one not think that, in the more or less happy lives of us women, +in our more or less easily traversed roads, the sensations of love are +so many illuminated floral arches that mark the different stages of our +accomplishment? We go up to them, we pass through them with hopes, +smiles or sighs. But, whatever they may be, we come out of them fairer +and better. What should we be without that, without love? The love which +is rebuked, which we are supposed to hide and blush for! The love that +entreats both our strength and our weakness, our patience and our +fervour, our passion and our reason! The love that sets in motion our +highest faculties and our lowest instincts, that makes each of us know +her own power and her own poverty by the part which she allows it to +play in her life! + +In that moment, I saw and lived my joys in the kisses of childhood and +girlhood. I travelled my road again; and the arches of light seemed +higher to me and they followed hard on one another, becoming ever more +radiant and decked with gayer flowers, until this very hour when the +desired happiness has been found, established and kept fast.... + + +3 + +My thoughts return to Rose, who has sat down under a tree; and I stretch +myself beside her. + +A herd of cows suddenly enters the orchard. White and brown, they plunge +among the apple-trees; driven by a child, who is taking them down to the +long grass, they amble heavily along in meek-eyed resignation. A smell +of cow-shed at once reaches our nostrils; and, in the silence, we hear a +noise of busy munching.... + +"Darling, you, who have always lived in the midst of nature, should have +sounder and more accurate ideas on love than those of other women, while +mine are a little warped by my over-cultivated nerves and feelings. If, +for instance, you had said to me, yesterday, 'I gave myself because it +was natural,' you would have dominated my poor reason from the pinnacle +of an essential truth." + +Without quite understanding what I say, Rose smiles in answer to my +smile and we remain silent; our eyes gaze without seeing and our idle +hands trail in the wet grass. We hear, without listening, the hoarse, +fat, cooing-voluptuous voices of the doves: in the cool air of the +morning, among the leaves, the flowers and the branches, it is an +undercurrent of joy rising and falling, suspended for a moment and then +beginning again, in unwearying repetition. + +Rose murmurs: + +"Why are you always saying that I cannot make progress without love? It +makes me unhappy when you say that. I should have liked to have nothing +in the world but your affection. You kissed me so tenderly last night, +over the hedge." + +"It is not the same thing, Rose darling. Certainly, there is nothing +more harmonious and purer than the kiss that joins the lips of two +friends like ourselves. But it is not the same thing as the kiss of +love, for the value of that lies not only in what it is, but in what it +promises; and it is a delight that sometimes echoes through our whole +lives.... You will have to love before you understand." + +The girl folded her arms around my waist as though to bind herself to +me: + +"But how would you have me love any one but yourself?" she asked. "Have +you not given me happiness? When I am with you, I seem to be living in a +fairy-tale." + +Despite the pleasure which her words gave me, I made an effort to combat +them. + +The character of a woman who tries to be just is full of these little +contradictions. In proportion as her heart is satisfied, she finds her +intellect becoming clearer and stronger; and what calls for her judgment +rarely leaves her heart unmoved. If Rose had not protested, I should +still have spoken, from a sense of duty, but my words would have been +without warmth or conviction. Now it seemed to me that her charming +compliment gave added force to what I was about to utter in the interest +of another's happiness. + +She leant her face against my breast and my fingers played with her +sunny hair, her unbound hair, which was now waving joyously, crowning +her with a shimmer of amber and gold. + +"No," I replied, "you must fall in love in order to develop and expand. +Our women's lives are like summer days: wisdom tells us to follow their +evolution. After the morning's waiting, we want the noon-day splendour +and rapture. As you never had that rapture, you have not yet known love: +and, at your age, is not that an absurd and miserable ignorance? Is it +not right to wish for love and even to force its coming? Those who go on +waiting for it in meek resignation appear to me so guilty!... Life has +always seemed to me to be divided into two parts: the search for love; +and love. As long as we are not in love, let us continue the search for +it; let us seek stubbornly, madly, cruelly, if need be; let us be +untiring and unrelenting. There are no obstacles for the woman with a +resolute will. Let each of us follow that quest in her own manner, +according to her strength, her means and her courage, through every +danger and every pain. When we have at last found love, or rather our +love, let us go towards it without fear, without false modesty; and, if +we are loved, let us not wait to be entreated for what we can offer +generously. Let us never be pilfered of that which it is our privilege +to give!" + +A tendril drops from the creeper above us and caresses our faces.... + +How delightful life is at this moment! The air is filled with rejoicing, +with the murmur of an infinite happiness! A tremulous haze hovers over +the fields, the insatiate doves reiterate their glad refrain. Around us, +here and there, a slender blade of grass shakes beneath the light weight +of a butterfly. But is not everything lovely in the eyes of a woman who +is talking of love? It is as though happiness were the harbinger of her +glance, flying ahead and settling upon things. + +Rose, all attention and curiosity, now questioned me: + +"But you, what did you do?" + +"In my case," I said, "when I knew that he loved me too, I went to his +country to find him. I can still see us walking in a meadow all bright +with flowers. On the horizon, the blue sky met the sea; and, behind us, +the red roofs, the church-steeples and the tiny white houses of a Dutch +village slowly vanished from sight. He gave me his arm; and it was a joy +to me to let him feel the gladness in my heart by the motion of my hip, +on which he leant slightly. Then he said, 'You walk like a queen for +whom her subjects wait.' And I knew from his words that he was still +waiting for me, though I was by his side, and they suddenly told me +what a blissful kingdom I had to offer him!" + +"Did you seek long before that day came?" + +"No, once I was free, I found happiness after a few months of trouble +and difficulty; but you see, dear, I would have gone to the other end of +the world to meet my love! I had no need to journey so far; and this +makes me inclined to think that, in our search, we need to be attentive +even more than active!" + +Roseline murmured, pensively: + +"The men say that a certain amount of preliminary experience in love is +indispensable ... to them." + +My whole soul revolted. Releasing myself from the girl's embrace, I +sprang to my feet and faced her: + +"But, Rose, isn't it the same with us? And is it right to expect that a +woman should rivet her whole existence to the first smile, to the first +look, the first word that moves her? Sensible people tell us that +marriage is a lottery! By what aberration of the intellect do they come +to admit that a being's whole life should be voluntarily subjected to +chance? Not one of us would consent to such a degradation, if women in +general were not absolutely ignorant! And that is why many, too +clear-sighted to submit to a ridiculous law and lacking the courage to +infringe it, die without having known the flavour and the goodness of +life. Oh, what injustice! Is youth not short enough as it is? Is the +circle in which our poor intelligence moves not sufficiently limited? +And is it necessary, in addition, to chain us to phantom principles, +which falsify nature, disfigure goodness and vilify the miracle of the +kiss and the innocence of the flesh?" + +I was standing against a tree, a few steps away from Rose; and my hand +plucked nervously at the leaves within my reach. The blue sky seemed +hypocritical to my eyes, the beauty of the flowers crafty and mocking. I +continued, in a tone of conviction: + +"It is right that woman should make her own experiments, it is right +that she should know men to judge which of them harmonises with her.... +It is by constantly encountering alien souls that she will form an idea +of what her twin soul should be. Yes, I know that a natural law rejects +this morality; and that is why I do not think the woman should give +herself until she is quite certain of her choice. It is true that her +experiments will be incomplete; the senses will have played but a small +part in them, or none at all; but must we not accommodate ourselves to +the inevitable? In any case, that woman will indeed be enlightened who, +regardless of public opinion, lives freely in the man's company, +studying him, observing him and sometimes even loving him!" + +Rose listened to me without a word or a movement; only, every now and +then, her long, dark lashes, tipped with gold, would flicker for a +moment and then droop discreetly on her cool, fresh cheeks. But the +thought of her own frailty suggested an objection; and she asked: + +"Don't you think that what you propose is difficult for the woman?" + +"Oh, yes, difficult and, to many of us, impossible! Through a want of +pride, through love or pity, they resign themselves to an act of which +their reason does not approve and they wake up unhappy, sometimes for +ever.... It is difficult, for the woman who resists appears to the man a +sort of monster, abominable and detestable. Ah, there must be no +desertion before possession! Because we have given him our lips, we must +make him a present of our lives! Because we have consented to certain +pleasures, we must, so that he may enjoy a greater, sacrifice our future +to him!... In fact, he goes farther and says that woman, when she +indulges in those experiments, is following the dictates of a loathsome +and mean self-interest. Self-interest, when this conduct entails endless +dangers and bitterness! Self-interest, when it demands of us, before +all, an absolute contempt of a world to which nearly all are slaves, +when it exposes us to insults and suffering and increases the number of +our enemies and multiplies the obstacles in our path!... No, that woman +is not selfish who, in all good faith, plunges boldly into the adventure +at the risk of ruining herself, comes near to a man, thinking that she +has found what she is seeking and hoping that love may result. She feels +the promptings of her senses and does not resist her heart, but her +reason is awake! She will not give herself unless everything that she +learns confirms her expectations; she will give herself if she really +believes that the happiness of both depends upon it; and the combat that +is waged enables her to judge clearly of the quality of their love. She +is judge and combatant in one. She lets herself be carried along so that +she may have fuller knowledge; and it is not without pain, it is not +without love that, at the eleventh hour, she will, if need be, refuse +herself." + +Rose here interrupted me: + +"If she loves, if she suffers, why does she refuse herself?" + +"There are a thousand degrees in love; and a woman of feeling always +suffers when she inflicts suffering." + +I examined my mind for a moment and, as though it were uttering its +thoughts backwards, I continued, slowly: + +"It is sometimes our duty to inflict suffering. The man's instinct is +always more or less blinded by desire; he always, either craftily or +brutally, proposes. It is for us to dispose. We are all-powerful. Peace +or discord springs from our will. He is not as well fitted to choose as +we are, because he has not the same reasons for wishing to see +comradeship follow upon passion, to see rapture give way to security. If +we are one day to be the mother of the child, are we not first of all +the mother of love? Are we not at the same time the cradle and the +tabernacle of that god? In any happy couple, is love not cast in the +woman's image much more than in the man's? The man has a thousand +things that attract and retain him elsewhere; his temperament is more +prodigal and less considerate than ours. It is in the woman that love +dwells; her sensitive nature leads her to a higher knowledge in the art +of loving; and the infinite details of her tenderness can make her seem +perfect in her lover's eyes when they do not render her exclusive...." + +Struck by this last word, Rose exclaimed: + +"What! According to you, love should not be exclusive!" And, lowering +her voice, she asked, "Are you not faithful?" + +"We do not even think of being faithful as long as we love. We should +blush to offer love the cold homage of fidelity: it is a word devoid of +meaning in the presence of a genuine love. In love fidelity is like a +chain disappearing under the flowers. If it is one day seen, that means +that the flowers are faded." + +I kneel beside her and, taking her in my arms, kiss her fondly. Through +the exquisite silence of the day, the church-bell rings out the +_Angelus_ in notes of gold. The garden is flooded with sunshine; and the +marigolds, the phlox, the jasmines, the scabious and the mallows push +their heads above their white railing. Each eager heart turns towards +the light. + +"You see, my Roseline: just as the great sun shines in his glory and +governs the realm of flowers, so love must be king in the lives of us +women! He reigns and is independent of any but himself. Only," I added, +laughing, "though we accept him as king, we must not make a tyrant of +him. Poor love! I wonder what wretched transformation he must have +undergone through the ages for us to have managed to invest him with the +most selfish of human sentiments, the sense of property! So far from +that, we ought mutually to respect the life that goes with ours and +never seek to restrain it." + +There is a pause; and Rose, with her face pressed to my cheek, almost +whispers: + +"You are not jealous?" + +I felt myself flushing and would have liked not to answer. But, alas, +would she not by degrees have discovered all the pettiness that is +ill-concealed under my thin veneer of self-control and determination? I +tried to reveal it all in one sentence: + +"Know this, Rose, that it is in myself and in myself alone that I study +the women that I would not be!" + + +4 + +I watch my great girl while she talks. This rustic beauty, in her cotton +bodice, her blue print skirt and her wooden shoes, no longer shouts. She +expresses herself better and does not gesticulate so violently. She is +quieter in her movements and her shyness is not unattractive. Rays of +light filter through the branches and cast shifting patches of light on +her face and figure. I always love to observe the details of her beauty, +but to-day my heart contracts for a moment as my eyes follow the curve +of her chin, which is charming, but devoid of all firmness, and her +whole profile, which is beautiful, but lacking in decision.... + +Will Rose be one of those who accomplish themselves by means of love, +who exalt themselves by exalting it, who master and improve themselves +the better to control it? + +Love is the great test by which our values are reckoned and weighed. The +fond vagaries of the body have taught the proud soul its limits; and +reason has wilted under a kiss like a flower under the scorching sun. +Every woman has known the exquisite luxury of forgetting herself, of +losing herself so utterly that no other thing at the moment appears to +her worth living for. She has heard the voice of the charmer exhorting +her to abandon pride, ambition, her own personality, to become, in +short, no more than an atom of happiness under a dark and splendid sky +which each moment of felicity seems to adorn with a new star. + +Where the weak woman goes under, her stronger sister is never lost. The +lower she may have fallen, the higher she raises herself. She returns +from each of her strayings more fit for life. She is more resisting, for +she has known how to sway and bend without breaking; more indulgent, +because she has seen herself encompassed with weakness and beset with +longings. She knows how frail is the spring that regulates her strength, +but also how necessary that strength is to her happiness. She has come +to understand what real love means, that the union of man and woman +approaches the nearer to perfection the less the two wills are fused. +She has understood, above all, that, to contain, glorify and keep love, +we need all the energy of our respective personalities and all the +benefit of our dissimilarity! + +Rose was silent. + +I lay on the grass, with my arms outstretched and my eyes fixed on the +sky; and the breeze sent my hair playing over my lips. For a long while +afterwards, my thoughts continued to wander amid the fairest things in +the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +1 + +It is typical autumn weather, a dull, dark day which seems never to have +fully dawned. Beneath the burden of the weary, oppressive clouds, the +grass is greener and the roads more distinct. The light seems to rise to +the sky instead of falling from it. + +I have been in the kitchen-garden for an hour. There all the plants are +beaten down by the wind and the rain; the asparagus-fronds lie across +the paths like tangled hair; but the broad-bottomed cabbages are a joy +to the eye, with their air of comfortable middle-class prosperity. +Looking at their closely enfolded hearts, I seemed to recover the +illusion of my childhood, of the days when my eyes pictured mystery in +their depths.... + +How amazed we are when one of our senses happens to receive a sudden +impression, in the same way as when we were children! We behold the same +object simultaneously in the present and the past; and between those two +points, identical and yet different to our eyes, our memory tries to +stretch a thread that can help it to follow the thousand and one +intermediate transformations which have led us from the false to the +true, from the wonderful to the simple, from dreams to reality. We +should, no doubt, discover here, in the subtle history of our sensations +and the different ways in which we received them, the gradual forming of +our character, the pathetic progress of our little knowledge, all the +frail elements of our personal life; in a word, the plastic substance of +our joys and sorrows.... + +I think of the little girl that I was, but between her and me there +stands a long array of children, girls and women. And I can do nothing +but inwardly repeat: + +"How soon we lose our traces!..." + +I smile at the memory of myself as we smile at the unknown child that +brushes against us in passing; and I leave myself to return to Rose.... + + +2 + +She is a never-failing source of satisfaction to me. My dreams glory in +having discovered so much hidden virtue here, at my door; and I am +surprised at the new pleasures which I am constantly finding in her. + +In certain natures predisposed to happiness, such happy surprises are +prolonged and constantly renewed; and this may be one of the innocent +secrets of the intellect. Are there not a thousand ways of interpreting +a feeling, even as there are a thousand ways of considering an object? +Our mind observes it daily under a different aspect, turns and turns it +again, sees it from above and below, sees it near and from afar and +loves to show it off and place it in the most favourable light. The mind +of every woman, especially of a woman with an artistic bias, is not +without a secret harmony of colour, line and proportion. Something +intentional even enters into it; and the caprices of her soul are often +but an outcome of her desire to please. Her natural instinct, which is +always inclined to give form to the most subtle of her sensations, +enables her to find in goodness the same clinging grace which she loves +in her clothes. She likes her happiness to be obvious and highly +coloured, that it may rejoice the eyes of those around her; and, so as +not to sadden their eyes, she paints the bitterness of her heart in +neutral shades of drab and grey. By thinking herself better, she appears +prettier in her own sight; and it seems to her, as she consults her +mirror, that she is replying to her own destiny. The soft waves of her +hair teach her how frail is her will by the side of her life. She learns +to bestow her own reward on the sympathy of her heart by crowning her +forehead with her two bare arms; and, when she sees the long folds of +her dress winding around her body, she recognises the sinuous, slow, but +determined bent of her feminine power. + +I remember once being present at a meeting between two women who gave me +a charming proof of our natural inclination to lend shape and substance +to our thoughts and feelings. They were of different nationalities and +neither of them could speak the other's language. Both were of a warm +and sensitive nature, endowed with an analytical and artistic +temperament; and, as soon as they came together amidst the boredom of a +fashionable crowd, they sat down in a corner and, with the aid of a few +ordinary words, of facial expression, of vocal intonation, but above all +by means of gesticulation, they succeeded, in a few moments, in +explaining themselves and knowing each other better than many do after +months of intercourse. + +I was interested in this strange conversation, this dialogue without a +sentence, but so vivid and expressive, in the same breath childish and +profound; for they wished to show each other the inmost recesses of +their souls and they had nothing to do it with but two or three +elementary words. How pretty they were, the fair one dressed in red and +the other, who was dark, all in white, with camellias in the dusk of her +hair. They were not at all afraid of being frivolous and would linger +now and then to examine the filmy muslins and laces in which they were +arrayed. + +The elder had already chosen her path, the younger was still seeking +hers; but the characters of both were alike matured and their minds +completely formed. Both of them in love and happy in their love, they +tried above all to express their tastes and ideas. + +To understand each other, they employed a thousand ingenious means. +Their mobile faces eagerly questioned each other with the unconscious +boldness of children who meet for the first time. They took each other's +hands, looked at each other, read each other's features. At times, they +would make use of things around them: a light here, a shadow there, +people, objects. Once I saw the fair-haired one take up a Galle cup that +stood near. For a minute, she held her white arm up to the light; and +through her fingers the lovely thing seemed like a flash of crystallised +mist in which precious stones were shedding their last lustre. + +I forget the various images, childish and subtle, by which she was able +to show her friend all her sensitive soul in that fragile cup. A little +later, there was some music; and the dark one sang while the fair one +accompanied her on the piano. Through the sounds and harmonies I heard +the perfect concord of those two lives, which had known nothing of each +other an hour or two before.... + +It was an exquisite lesson for me, a wonderful proof that women's souls +are able to love and unite more easily than men's, if they wish. And I +once again regretted the unhappy distrust that severs and disunites us, +whereas all our weaknesses interwoven might be garlands of strength and +love crowning the life of men. + + +3 + +By a natural trend of thought, Rose appeared to me contrasted with those +two rare creatures.... + +Rose is not sensitive and is not artistic. No doubt, when she left +school, she could play the piano correctly and likewise draw those +still-life studies and little landscapes by means of which the +principles of art and beauty are carefully instilled into the young +mind. But she did not suspect that there could be anything else. She saw +nothing beyond the ruined mill which she drew religiously in charcoal; +twenty times over, she set an orange, a ball of worsted and a pair of +scissors together on the window-sill without seeing any of the wonders +which the garden offered her. + +Later, when every Sunday she played _The Young Savoyard's Prayer_ on the +organ, her placid soul conceived no other harmonies. She never felt, +within the convent-walls, that divine curiosity, that blessed +insubordination of the artist-child which obtains its first +understanding of beauty from its hatred of the ugliness around it and +which turns towards pretty things as flowers and plants turn towards the +light. + +Ah, my poor Rose, how I should like to see you more eager and alive! In +the close attention which you give me, in the absolute faith which you +place in me, my least words are invested with a precision of meaning +that invites me to go on speaking; but how weary I am at heart! Oh, let +us pass on to other things: it is high time! Let us not sink into +slumber and call it prudence: up to now I have been content to see you +sitting patiently at my feet; but I no longer want you there. Enough of +this! I dream of roaming with you at random in the open fields, I dream +of making you laugh and cry, of feeling your young soul fresh and +sensitive as your cheeks. I dream of stirring your heart and rousing +your imagination. We will go far across the countryside; together we +shall see the light wane and the darkness begin; and, since you love me, +you must needs admire with me the rare beauty of all these things!... + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +1 + +Rose was to have a holiday the next day. We arranged that she should +come with the trap from the farm, the first thing in the morning, to +fetch me. + +We start at six o'clock. The harness-bells tinkle gaily to the heavy +trot of the big horse; and we laugh as we are jolted violently one +against the other. We drive through the villages, those happy Normandy +villages where everything seems eloquent of the richness of the soil. +They are still asleep, the white curtains are drawn and the geraniums on +the window-ledges alone are awake in all their glowing bloom. A faint +haze veils the fields and imparts to things a soft warmth of tone that +makes them more soothing to the eyes. The sun rises and we see the +breath of earth shimmer in its first rays. + +We have never yet been for a whole day's outing together; everything is +new in my new pleasure. I look at Rose beside me. I had wanted her to +put on her peasant clothes; and I find her beautiful in her scanty garb +in the cool morning air. + +We follow the long hog's-back that commands a view of the whole country +round. Here and there, tiny villages float like islands of green amid +the wide plains. A row of poplars lines the way on either side. Their +yellow leaves quiver and rustle in the breeze. The rooks stand out +harshly against the white road. And the mist, which is beginning to lift +in places, reveals a deep-blue sky. + +The keen air that enters my throat and makes my mouth cold as ice tells +me of the smile that flickers over my face; and my pleasure is +heightened by the sight of my happiness. A woman sees herself anew in +everything that she beholds; life is her perpetual looking-glass. In our +memory, the flowers in a hat often mingle with those along the road; and +sometimes the muslin of a dress enfolds the recollection of our gravest +emotions. + +O femininity, sublime and ridiculous, wise and foolish! Never shall I +weary of surprising its movements and variations deep down in my being! +How it fascinates me in all its shades and forms! I let it play with my +destiny as much from reason as from love, for we know that nothing can +subdue it. I worship it in myself, I worship it in all of us! It may +exhaust us in the performance of superhuman tasks, it may let us merely +dally with the delight of being beautiful, it may chain us to our bodies +or deliver us from their tyranny, it may adorn life or give it, enrich +it or kill it: always and everywhere it arouses my eager interest. Ever +unexpected and changeful, it floats in front of our woman's souls like a +gracious veil that draws, unites and yet separates.... + +The even motion of the trap lulls my dreams and we drive on, in the +midst of the plains, the fields and the woods. We pass through a dense +flock of sheep. The warm round backs, the gentle, anxious faces push and +hustle, while the thousand slender legs mingle and raise clouds of dust +along the roadside. The timid voices bleat through space; and a pungent +scent fills our nostrils. We are now going down into the valley. The +village appears, among the trees: a cluster of red and grey roofs; +little narrow gardens; white clothes hung out and fluttering in the +sunlight. Beyond are broad meadows dotted with peaceful cows and +streaked with running brooks. There, just in the middle, a factory +displays its grimy buildings. It is an eye-sore, but it leaves the mind +unscathed. Does it not represent definite and deliberate activity amid +the unconsciousness of nature?... + +At this moment, Rose turns towards me; and I seem to read a sadness in +her eyes: + +"What are you thinking of?" I ask. + +"I am thinking that I should like to go away altogether and that we have +to be back tonight." + +I kissed her and laughed. + +"My darling, you must live and be happy in the present: there is plenty +of room there." + +We arrived at the country-house to which I was taking her. Pretty women +in delicate morning-wraps were eagerly awaiting us on the steps, while +some of the men, attracted by the sound of our wheels, leant out from a +window to see my pretty Rose. There was a general cry of admiration: + +"Why, she's magnificent!" + +We stepped out of the trap and I pushed Rose towards the party, with +whispered words of encouragement; but, suddenly bending forward, with +her feet wide apart, her arms-swinging and her cheeks on fire, she dips +here and there in a series of awkward bows.... + +They were kind enough not to laugh; and I led the girl through the +great, cool echoing rooms, multiplied by the mirrors and filled with +marvels.... + + +2 + +The sun streams through the immense, wide-open windows; and the harmony +of the ancient park mingles with that of the silk hangings and the old +furniture. The fallen leaves sprinkle tears of gold upon the deep green +of the lawns. The soft-flowing river welcomes with a quiver the perfect +beauty of the skies; rare shrubs and delicate flowers set here and there +sheaves and garlands of joy; and the golden sand of the paths +accentuates the variety of the colours. On the hill opposite, a wood +gilded by the autumn seems to be lying down like some huge animal; in +the distance, the tree-tops are so close together that one could imagine +a giant hand stroking its tawny fur. On either side of the tall +bow-windows, the scarlet satin of the curtains falls in long, straight +folds. + +Let us be in a palace or a hovel, in a museum or an hotel: is not our +attention always first claimed by the window? However little it reveals, +that little still means light and life, amid our admiration of the rare +or our indifference to the ordinary. The windows represent all the +independence, hope and strength of the little souls behind them; and I +believe that I love them chiefly because they were the confidants and +friends of my early years, when, as an idle, questioning little girl, I +would stand with my hands clasped in front of me and my forehead glued +to the panes. My childhood spent at those windows was a picture of +patient waiting. + +Often they come back to me, the windows of that big house in a +provincial town, on one side lighted up and beautiful with the beauty of +the gay garden on which their lace-veiled casements opened, on the other +a little dark and lone, as though listening to the voice and the dreary +illusion of the church which they enframe.... + + +3 + +The current of my life, diverted for a moment, returned to the present +and, as always, it swelled with the gladness that rises to our hearts +whenever chance conjures up a past whose chains we have shattered. + +Happier and lighter at heart, I continued with Rose my visit to the +galleries, the gardens and the hot-houses. The luncheon passed off well. +Rose was quite at ease and suggested in that elegant setting a stage +shepherdess, whose beauty transfigured the simplest clothes. A silk +kerchief with a bright pattern of flowers is folded loosely round her +neck; her chemisette and skirt are freshly washed and ironed, her hands +well tended and her hair gracefully knotted. She introduces a striking +and very charming note into the Empire dining-room. More than once, +during lunch, I congratulated myself on not having yielded to the +temptation to adorn her with the thousand absurd and cunning trifles +that constitute our modern dress, for her little blunders of speech and +movement found an excuse in her peasant's costume. Nevertheless, she +answered intelligently the questions put to her on the treatment of +cattle and the cultivation of the soil; and I had every reason to be +proud of her. Her grave and reserved air charmed everybody. If she often +grieves and disappoints me, is this not due more particularly to the +absence of certain qualities which her beauty had wrongly led me to +expect? + + +4 + +Before taking our seats in the trap, we go for a stroll through the +village. As we pass in front of the baker's, a splendid young fellow, +naked to the waist, comes out of the house and stands in the doorway. +The flour with which his arms and his bronzed chest are sprinkled +softens their modelling very prettily. His sturdy neck, on which his +head, the head of a young Roman, looks almost small, his straight nose, +long eyes and narrow temples form a combination rarely seen in our +district. I was pointing him out to Rose, when he called to her +familiarly and congratulated her on visiting at the great house. I saw +no movement of foolish vanity in her; on the contrary, there was great +simplicity in her story of the drive and the lunch. I was pleased at +this and told her so, later, when we were back in the trap. + +"The poor fellow is afraid of anything that might take me from him," she +said. "He must be very unhappy just now, for he has been imploring me +for the last two years to marry him." + +I gave her a questioning look; and she went on: + +"I did not want to. I would rather end my days in poverty than languish +for ever behind a counter. Still, his love would perhaps have overcome +my resistance, if I had not met you." + +She leant over to kiss me. I returned her caress, though I felt a little +troubled, as I always do when I receive a positive proof of the way in +which I have changed the course of her life. At the same time, I +realised that her nature contained a sense of pride, in which till then +I had believed her entirely deficient. I remained thoughtful, but not +astonished. We end by having opinions, on both men and things, which are +so delicately jointed that they can constantly twist and turn without +ever breaking. + +Meanwhile, the horse was jogging peacefully along; we were going towards +the sea, for I wanted to finish our holiday there. The willow-edged +river followed our road; and we already saw the white sheen of the +cliffs at the far end of the valley. + +Soon we are passing through the little old town, where a few visitors +are still staying for the bathing, though it is late in the season. At +the inn, where we leave our horse and trap, they seem to think us a +rather odd couple. I laugh at their amused faces, but Rose is +embarrassed and hurries me away. All the dark and winding little streets +lead to the sea. We divine its vastness and immensity beyond the dusky +lanes that give glimpses of it. In front of one of those luminous +chinks, under a rounded archway, an old woman stands motionless; she is +clad like the women of the Pays de Caux: a black dress gathered in thick +pleats around the waist, a brown apron and a smooth, white cap flattened +down over her forehead. Poor shrivelled life, whose features seem to +have been harshly carved out of wood! She is like an interlude in the +perfect harmony of things. I utter my admiration aloud, so that my +Roseline's eyes may share it; and we pass under the archway. + +We are now on the beach; the wind lashes our skirts and batters my large +hat, which flaps around my face. For a more intimate enjoyment of the +sea, we run to it through the glorious, exhilarating air which takes +away our breath. Over yonder, a few people are gathered round a hideous +building all decked out with bunting. It is the casino. We hasten in the +opposite direction. On the patch of sand which the sea uncovers at low +tide, some boys disturb the solitude; but they are attractive in their +fresh and nervous grace, with their slender legs, their energetic +gestures and their as it were beardless voices. Their frolics stand out +against the pale horizon like positive words in a blissful silence. + +As we sat down on the shingle, the sun facing us was still blinding; and +I reflected that, when my eyes could endure its brilliancy, it would be +like our human happiness, very near its end.... + +The excitement of the lunch at the big house has not yet passed off; and +Rose laughs and is amused at everything. Has she to-day at last, by the +contact of those happy, care-free lives, foreseen an approaching +deliverance from hers? Of all the things that we have seen together, how +much has she really observed? Has the test to which I tried to submit +her to-day proved vain? As a guide to her impressions, I traced the +outline of my own before her eyes. I questioned her. Then it seemed to +me that, in bending my thoughts upon Rose, I saw her as we see our image +in the water, with vaguer hues and less decided lines. The girl merely, +from time to time, added a word expressing her contentment, a thought of +her own; and to me it was as though a little sunbeam had played straight +on the water and the image through the leafy branches.... + +Does this mean that we see here a mere reflection, an utterly hollow +soul, into which the leavings of other souls enter naturally? If it +seems to me, at this moment, to borrow light and blood from me, is that +a reason for thinking that it possesses neither sap nor sunshine? No, a +thousand times no! True, I am the mother of her real life and she must, +so to speak, pass through my soul before reaching hers. But, though we +are of one mind, we are two distinct natures, two very different +characters. It is a question not only of one creature attaching herself +to another, but of an awakening and self-enquiring spirit, of a late and +sudden development. Rose does not wish to copy me. Honestly and +diligently, she spells and lisps to me something like a new language, +with the aid of which she will soon be able in her turn to express +herself and to feel. There are moments when she seems to understand me +perfectly, even to my inmost thoughts; and I sometimes say to her: + +"Where was she in the old days, the girl who understands me so well now? +What did she do? Where did she live?..." + +But where are all of us before the hour that reveals us to ourselves? +And what manner of being would he be who had never undergone any +influence or contact, who had never seen anything, felt anything? All +impressions, whether of persons or things, come to us from without, but +little by little and so imperceptibly that there is never a day in our +lives that may be called the day of awakening. And yet it exists for all +of us, shredded into decisive and fugitive minutes throughout our lives. +Imagine for an instant that we could gather them, put them together and +place them all in the hands of one being who, with one movement, would +scatter them all around us. Would not the change in our character, in +our thoughts, in our feelings be very remarkable? Would we not appear +actually "possessed" by that person, who, after all, would have been but +the instrument of a natural reaction of all our inert forces? + +Filled with these thoughts, I said to Roseline: + +"Dearest, once your life is kindled into feeling and expression, I can +no longer distinguish it, for it is absorbed in mine.... I shall soon be +going away; and all that I shall know of you will be your beauty, your +unhappiness and the tenderness of your heart." + +Her great, innocent eyes, lifted to mine, asked: + +"Is not that enough?" + +And, almost ashamed of my doubts, I at once added: + +"You shall come where I am; whatever happens, be sure that I will not +desert you." + +With an abrupt gesture, she flung her arms around me; and, as we looked +into each other's eyes, the same mist rose before them. Was she at last +about to accompany me into the depths of my soul? + +My heart burns with the fire of this new and longed-for emotion; and I +feel two crystal tears, two tears of sheer delight, slowly follow the +curve of my cheeks. Rose's own sensibilities have been blunted for a +time by her rough life; she does not yet know how to weep for happiness; +and, almost frightened, she convulsively presses her clasped hands +against her breast, as though she feared lest it should burst with the +throbbing of her joy. + +I placed my lips to the long golden lashes, I gathered the dear, +timorous tears that seemed still uncertain which path to take; and, +behind the veil of my kisses, they gushed forth without fear or shame. + + +5 + +The setting sun was no more than a thin crimson streak on the dividing +line of sky and sea; and the peaceful billows whispered mysteriously in +the dusk that rose from every side. + +It was time to go. When we were both standing, so frail and +insignificant on the great empty beach, a wave of passionate gratitude +overwhelmed both our hearts; and I at last believed that all nature--the +sea, the meadows and the fields--had wrought its work of love and beauty +in my Rose. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +1 + +Immense black clouds scudded past in the darkness; a furious wind +stripped the groaning branches of their leaves; and, when the moon +suddenly pierced the night, gaunt figures appeared of almost bare trees +twisted and shaken by the wind. Behind the orchards, a few +cottage-windows showed a glimmer of light; and the watch-dogs howled as +I passed, to the accompaniment of their dragging chains. + +I walked quickly, full of misgivings and yet undaunted. I asked myself +at intervals what was taking me to the farm, to probable suffering. Was +it Rose's silence: I had heard nothing of her for a week? Was it the +hope of saying good-bye to her, of letting her know at least that I was +to go away the next day? Or was it not rather the curiosity that makes +us wish to see, without being seen ourselves, the man or woman who +interests us? + +We always influence in some way or other the looks or the words that are +addressed to us. The eye that rests on us becomes unconsciously filled +with our own rest; and the longing that awakens at the sight of us is +often born of the unspoken call of our soul or our blood. From the first +moment when our hands meet, an exchange takes place, and we are no +longer entirely ourselves, we exist in relation to the persons and the +things around us. Two honest lives cannot join in falsehood; but either +of them, if united to a vulgar nature, is perhaps capable of +deterioration. + +While thus arguing, I seek to reassure myself. True, Rose could never be +at the farm, among those coarse people, what she is with me. Still, what +will she be like? + +I remember something she said to me at the beginning of our +acquaintance: + +"For the sake of peace with those about me, by degrees I made myself the +same as they were. After a time, I never said what I really thought and +soon I ceased to notice the difference between the two. As I thought +that it was impossible for me ever to go away, it seemed to me a wise +policy to adapt myself to the life I had to live. It was a lie at first; +later it became second nature...." + +But now? Now that all that existence is no more than a temporary +unpleasantness, what is her attitude? + + +2 + +It was striking eight when I came up to the farm. As a rule, everybody +is in bed by then. But to-day was the feast of the patron-saint of the +village; and there must have been dancing and drinking till nightfall. +At that moment, the darkness was so thick that I could hardly see +anything in front of me. I found the gate locked. Clinging to the trees +and pulling myself through the thorns and brambles, I climbed across the +bank and dropped into the orchard. I at once called softly to the dog, +so that he should recognise a friend's voice, and, as soon as I was +certain of his silence, I walked quietly to the house, where there was a +light in two of the windows at the back of the farm-yard. Not daring to +take the path that led to the door, I made my way as best I could +through the long grass. I was shivering in my dress; and my feet were +frozen. Whenever the moon peeped through two clouds, I quickly flung +myself against a tree and waited without moving for the darkness to +return. Cows were lying here and there on the grass: at each lull in +the storm, I heard the heavy breathing of the sleeping animals; and +their peacefulness soothed my troubled mind. + +Some thirty yards from the house, I stopped, uncertain what to do. It +can be approached only by going a little higher, for it is built on a +mound in the centre of the yard. The whole length of the one-storeyed, +thatched buildings was without a tree or any dark corner where I could +shelter. + +I was still hesitating, when suddenly a shadow passed across one of the +windows. I seemed to recognise Rose, and my rising curiosity made me +cover in a moment the distance that separated me from her. Once there, +against the window-pane, I thought of nothing else. + +No, it was not fear but sorrow that oppressed me from the first glance +within: Rose was laughing at the top of her voice, her mouth opened in a +paroxysm of mirth. She was laughing a silly, brutish laugh, lying back +in her chair, with her knees wide apart and her hands on her hips. A +lamp stood near her on the long table around which the men were eating +and drinking; under its torn shade the light flared unevenly, lighting +up some things with ruthless clearness and leaving others in complete +darkness. Of the men, I could see nothing distinctly except their heavy +jaws and coarse hands and the lighter patches of their white shirts and +blue smocks. I could make out very little of the large, low-ceilinged +room. A rickety chair here; an old dresser there, with a few battered +dishes on it. At regular intervals, a brass pendulum sends forth gleams +as it catches the light; and the smouldering fire in the tall +chimney-place flickers for a moment and illumines the strings of beans +and onions drying round the hearth. On the floor, in the middle of the +room, two little cowherds are quarrelling for the possession of a goose, +no doubt won as a prize in the village. The poor thing, lying half-dead, +with its wings and legs tied up, utters piteous sounds, which are the +signal for a burst of laughter and coarse jokes. + +But suddenly all is silence. A door opens at the far end of the room and +on the threshold stands the mistress, with a candle in her hand and some +bottles under her arm. The fear inspired by the old madwoman is obvious +at once. The two urchins take refuge under the table with their prey, +Rose's laughter ceases abruptly and, through the window-panes, I hear +the steady ticking of the clock and the clatter of the spoons in the +bowls. + +The old woman has sat down in the full light. She is eating, with bent +back, lowered head and jerky, nervous movements, while her wicked little +sunken eyes peer from under her heavy, matted brows. She speaks some +curt words in _patois_, too fast for me to catch their sense; but her +strident voice hurts my ears. The conversation becomes livelier by +degrees and soon everybody is speaking at once.... + +I wait in vain for an absent look, a gesture of annoyance, an expression +of pain on Rose's part. No, she seems at her ease among these people, as +she was at the great house, as she is and as she will be everywhere. She +follows the remarks of one and all and shows the same attention which +she vouchsafes to me when I speak to her. From time to time, she says a +word or two; and I recognise the shrill voice and the vulgar gestures +that used to hurt me so much during our early talks. + +I remained there for a long time, always waiting, always hoping. Excited +by liquor, the men began to quarrel; and I heard the old woman hurl a +torrent of vile insults at them. Rose took the part of one of the men +and interfered, using language as coarse as theirs. + + +3 + +It was late when I went away. The clouds had dispersed, the wind had +dropped; the moonbeams were making pools of silver on the ground through +the trees; and, when I reached the open fields, they appeared to me +cold, immense, infinite under a molten sky. + +The picture which I carry away with me seems to lose its colour before +my eyes: it is harder and sadder, made up of harsh lights and darker +shadows, like an etching. I see the rough hands on the white deal table, +the bony faces brutally outlined by a crude light. I hear the cracked +voice of the old madwoman, now raised in yells of abuse, now breaking +into song ... and Rose ... my beautiful Rose.... + +But I have stolen this sight of a life which I was never meant to see. +The dishonesty of my invisible presence makes a gulf between my actual +vision and my perception; and it seems to me that, in this case, I must +withhold my judgment even as we hold our breath before a flickering +flame. + + + + + + +PART THE SECOND + +CHAPTER I + + +1 + +There is in love, in friendship or in the curiosity that drives us +towards a fellow-creature a period of ascendency when nothing can quench +our enthusiasm. The fire that consumes us must burn itself out; until +then, all that we see, all that we discover feeds it and increases it. + +We are aware of a blemish, but we do not see it. We know the weakness +that to-morrow perhaps will blight our joy, but we do not feel it. We +hear the word that ought to deal our hopes a mortal blow; and it does +not even touch them!... And our reason, which knows, sees, hears and +foresees, remains dumb, as though it delighted in these games which +bring into play our heart and our capacity for feeling. Besides, to us +women this exercise of the emotions is something so delightful and so +salutary that our will has neither the power nor the inclination to +check it either in its soberest or its most extravagant manifestations. +The influence of the will would always be commonplace and sordid by the +side of that generous force which is created by each impulse of the +heart or mind. + +Upon every person or every idea that arouses our enthusiasm we have just +so much to bestow, a definite sum of energy to expend, which seems, like +that of our body, to have its own time and season. I have known Rose for +hardly three months; her picture is still vernal in my heart; nothing +can prevent its colours from being radiant with freshness, radiant with +vigour, radiant with sunshine. I shall therefore go away without regret. +I see the childishness of all the experiments to which I am subjecting +the girl so as to know her a little better. My interest throws such a +light upon her that she cannot, do what she will, shrink back into the +shade. + +She is to me the incarnation of one of my most cherished ideas. Until I +know all, I shall suspend my judgment and my intentions will not change. +I believe that every seed in the rich soil of a noble heart has to +fulfil its tender, gracious work of love and kindness. + +I cannot, therefore, lay upon Rose the burden of my disappointment last +night; and my affection suggests a thousand good reasons for absolving +her. Is this wrong? And are we to consider, with the sapient ones of +the earth, that our vision is never clear until the day when we no +longer have the strength to love, believe and admire? I do not think so. +Setting aside the careful judgment which we exercise in the case of our +companion for life, it is certain that our opinions on the others, on +our chance acquaintances, are but an illusion and owe far more to our +souls than to theirs. In our brief and crowded lives, we have barely +time to catch a note of beauty here, to perceive a sign of truth there. +If, therefore, we have to pass days and years without understanding +everything and loving everything, if we have to remain under a +misapprehension, why not choose that which is on the side of love and +gladdens our hearts? + +We should take care of the images that adorn our soul. Our women's minds +would possess more graciousness if we bestowed upon them a little of the +attention which we lavish on our bodies. + +My beautiful Rose is kind and loving; I will deck her with my hopes as +long as I can. When enthusiasm is shared, it is easy to keep it up. It +weighs lightly in spite of its infinite preciousness. If I ever find it +a strain, the reason will be that Rose did not really bear her share of +it. It will become a burden and I shall relinquish it. All that she +will have of me will be the careless charity bestowed upon the poor. + + +2 + +"Paris, ... 19-- + +"If you knew, Rose, how I miss the lovely autumn landscapes! The weather +was so bright on the day of my departure that, to enjoy it to the full, +I bicycled to the railway-town. After leaving the village, I took the +road through the wood and it was delightful to skim along through the +dead leaves, the softly-streaming tears of autumn. Sometimes, when a +gust of wind blew, I went faster; and little yellow waves seemed to rise +and fall and chase one another all around me. Some of the trees, not yet +bare, but only thinned, traced an exquisite russet lacework against the +blue sky; and the birds warbled, cooed and whistled as in spring. I saw +the noisy, crowded streets of Paris waiting for me at the end of my day; +and this gave a flavour of sadness to the calm of the high roads, the +pureness of the air, the dear beauty of the lanes.... + +"It was quite early in the morning and the fields were still bathed in +a dewy radiance. I sat down for a little while on a roadside bank; an +immense plain began at the level of my face and ended by rising slowly +towards the sky. It was a very young field of corn, which the splendour +of the day turned into pearly down. I could have looked at it for ever, +at one moment letting the full glory of it burst on my dazzled eyes and +then gradually lowering my lids down to the tiny threads that trembled +and glittered in my breath. Then my mouth formed itself into a kiss; and +I amused myself by slowly and lovingly making the cool pearls of the +morning die on my warm lips...." + + +3 + +"Paris, ... 19-- + +"I see you, my Rose, laying supper in the wretched kitchen, while the +farm-hands gather round the hearth. I like to picture you going +cautiously through the old woman's room at night, so as to write to me +by the rays of the moon, without disturbing the household with an +unwonted light. You come and sit on the ledge of the open window, to +receive the full benefit of the moonbeams, and then you write on your +knee those trembling lines which convey your emotion to me. + +"I see you in the wonderful setting of the silver-flooded orchard. The +golden silk of your long tresses embroiders your white night-dress. Your +eyes are filled with peace; you are beautiful like that; and there is +nothing so sweet as an orchard in the moonlight. The apple-trees seem to +lay their even shadows softly upon the pallor of the grass; and their +ordered quiet spreads a serene and simple joy over nature's sleep.... + +"Rose, at the moving period that brought us together, how I would that +your sweet composure had been sometimes a little ruffled! It would have +appeared to me of a finer quality had I found it more variable. A +woman's reason should be less rigid; and I should loathe mine if it were +not a leaven of indulgence and forgiveness in my life.... + +"Oh, Rose, Rose, tell me that the coldness of your soul springs from its +wonderful purity! Tell me that your heart is so deep that the sound of +the joys which fall into it cannot be heard outside! Tell me that it is +the storm of your life that has crushed the flowers of your sensibility +for the time.... + +"I well know that our interest cannot always be active, that it must be +suppressed; I know that indifference is essential to the happy +equilibrium of our faculties and that, beside the exaltation of our +soul, it is the untroubled lake fertilising and refreshing the earth. +And you will find, Rose, how necessary it is to be on our guard against +it in our judgments and how it can take possession of some natures and +slowly destroy them under a hateful appearance of wisdom! I would rather +discover ugly and active defects in you than that beautiful +impassiveness. Besides, as I have told you many a time, the excellence +that seems to me ideal has its weaknesses. It is rather a way of +perfection for our poor humanity, a way that is all the better because +it is adapted for our feeble and wavering steps!... + +"Once, at harvest-time, I met you in the little road near the church. It +was the end of the day; and you were coming back from the fields. You +were standing high on a swaying mountain of hay, you were driving a +great farm-horse, which disappeared under its load. Your tall figure +stood out against the sky ablaze with the last rays of the sun; and I +still see your look of absolute unconcern. You wore a long blue apron +that came all round you and a bodice of the same colour. In that blue +faded by the sun, with your hair a pale cloud in the gold of the +sunset, you looked like an archangel taken from some Italian fresco. + +"As you passed me, you timidly returned my smile; and I followed you for +a long time with my eyes. Do you still remember the trouble you had in +passing under the dark vault of the old oaks? Every now and again, a +branch, longer and lower than the others, threatened your face: you +caught it with a quick movement and lifted it over your head. At one +time, there were so many of those branches and they were so heavy that +you were obliged to lie back on the hay, holding both arms over your +face to save it from being struck. Then, when the lumbering wagon +stopped in front of the farm, my archangel stepped down humbly into the +mud, took the horse by the bridle and disappeared from sight.... + +"The reason why this memory now comes back to me is that I find in it +some affinity with what I would ask of your reason: those simple +movements by which you will be able to thrust aside the bad habits that +disfigure you! May your reason be the beautiful archangel to guide and +sway your humble life, but may it sometimes know how to descend and +stoop in obedience to the necessities of chance. Even as, on the day +when I saw you, you could not alter the road which you had to follow, so +you cannot alter your real nature; but you must 'know the way,' you must +guide and control." + + +4 + +"Paris,... 19-- + +"I am longing to have you here so that I may watch carefully over the +slightest details of your life and put your temperament incessantly to +the test. They say that enthusiasm cannot be acquired. But how can they +tell that it is not merely sleeping, unless they try to awaken it? Those +around us have sometimes, quite unconsciously, an unhappy way of +subduing and oppressing us. + +"Even the most emotional have often to struggle lest their souls should +shrink in the presence of certain people, like the flowers whose petals +exposed to the light timidly hide their hearts as soon as day declines. +You, whom a placid humour reserves for gentle emotions, must try not to +let that very beautiful nature exceed its rights, or cast an unnecessary +shadow over your feelings, or ever check your finest bursts of +admiration with doubt and misgiving. Circumstances have failed to form +your taste; and at first you will pass marvels by and prefer to marvel +at some hideous thing. Never mind! I like to think that, after all, the +best part of a noble work is the enthusiasm which it arouses and that +the greatest dignity of art lies in the flame which it kindles. + +"Time was when I wept in front of things that now leave me unmoved; but, +in captivating my childish heart, did they not accomplish their task +even as those do now which quicken the beating of my woman's heart?... + +"Learn to appreciate life and to look upon all that does not enhance it +as vain and wearisome. As there is nothing in this world which has not +its relation to life, in loving it, my Roseline, you will understand +everything and accept everything. + +"I want your eyes, when presenting to your mind whatever is best in a +great work, to learn the luxury of lingering on it; I want your ears to +perceive the wonderful, voluptuous charm of sounds, your hands to +rejoice in things soft to the touch; I want you to learn how to breathe +with delight and how to eat with pleasure. Don't smile. None of all this +is childish; it is made up of tiny joyous movements which the simplest +existence can command when it knows how to recognise them. And yet ... +and yet I feel a selfish wish to leave you still in your prison, so that +your desire to escape from it may keep on growing! I love that desire, I +love your actual distress, I love the wretchedness of your past, the +wretchedness of your present, I love you to see difficulties in the way +of your deliverance.... + +"Oh, if those obstacles could give you, as they do me, that sort of +intoxication for which I cherish them! When at last I see the goal +beyond them, my heart leaps for joy. But hardly is the goal attained +when I rejoice in it only because it brings me to another, higher and +more distant; and my imagination resumes its course, never looking back +except to measure the road already traversed.... In this way, never +satisfied and yet happy in the mere fact that I am advancing and in the +knowledge that no more can be asked of a poor human will, I have the +feeling that my life never stops." + + +5 + + +"Paris,... 19-- + +"Dearest, it is evening; it is cold and wet out of doors; but peace and +gaiety shed their radiance in the great drawing-room which you will +soon know, white and bare as a convent-parlour, living and bright as joy +itself. Chance gave me to-day a long day of solitude, like those at +Sainte-Colombe. And yet the hours passed before me and I could not make +them fruitful. When such favours come to me in the midst of excitement, +I am too glad of them to be able to profit by them; I can but feel them; +and they control me without leaving me time to control them in my turn. +I listen to my life, I contemplate it. It has too many opposing voices, +too many absolutely different shapes; my consciousness is lost in it as +a precious stone is swallowed up by the sea. I blush at such chaos. My +soul appears to me only fit to compare with one of those wretched +table-cloths which country dressmakers patch together, at the end of the +year, out of the thousand scraps of the thousand different materials +which they have cut during the season. But is not this the natural +result of the diversity of our feminine souls? + +"Antagonistic elements have long been at war in me; and the violence of +their blows has sometimes torn my life asunder. I no longer have cause +to complain of it now, because time and love have helped me to reconcile +them. Our powers are injurious to us so long as we do not know how to +use them. I have suffered, I still suffer from my creeping knowledge. I +would like to increase the pace of yours. Is it impossible? + +"And so I dreamed all day and, of course, I dreamed of you, the Rose +whom I am always picturing. I imagined that we had arranged to see each +other this evening. You walked into the drawing-room, drenched with the +rain, pink-cheeked with the cold. You looked very pretty, in a frock +that suited your face and your figure. You knew how to hold yourself! +You knew how to walk! Your movements were graceful! After talking for a +little while by the fire, we both sat down at the table, under the +lamp-light, and there began our usual work. What work it was I cannot +tell; but it will be easy for us to choose: we have everything to learn; +and I feel that both our minds must follow the same path for some time +to come. By placing the same objects before them, we shall succeed in +discovering what you really feel and what you really wish. That is the +only way of delivering your mind from my involuntary dominion and of +distinguishing your image from mine. I have no other ideal than to feel +myself actually moving, even though the movement be an inconsistent +one. How could I invite you to a similarity which is nothing but a +perpetual dissimilarity? + +"You must cease to be an echo. I shall map out no course for you; and we +do not know what will become of you. Let us first walk at random. The +goal is not always visible; but very often the road travelled tells us +which road to take next. It matters little what work we do, provided +that it gives a sort of tone to our meetings and that it regulates our +hours. The freaks of chance and the youthfulness of our minds will +always furnish colour and fancy in plenty.... + +"Understand me, Roseline: it is not a friend that I am seeking, not one +of those uncertain, light-hearted, capricious relations which encumber +life without adding to it. I am dreaming like a child, of a woman who +should realise the greatest possible amount of beauty in her mind and +person and who should add her strength to mine in the service of the +same ideals. Rose, are you that woman? Will you help me to deliver other +women still who are oppressed by circumstances or people, to deliver +those who are shackled by prejudice or fear, to deliver the beauty that +is unable to show itself and the will that dares not act? To deliver! +What a magic word! Rose, does it ring in your heart as it rings in +mine?... + +"But, as you see, my dreams are carrying me too far; and I blush at my +audacity. When I look at you and judge myself, it often seems to me that +what I have done for you is only a form of vanity, that all my generous +aspirations are but vanity!... Is it true? + +"And, if it were! Is it not still greater and more foolish vanity to +require that all our actions should spring from pure and sublime +motives? If, in contributing to your development, I am conscious that I +am assisting my own, will yours be any the less complete for that? If I +no longer know which is dearer, you, who represent my dreams, or my +dreams, which have become embodied in yourself, will you on that account +be less fondly and less nobly loved? + +"And, if it be true that vanity there is, is the vanity vain that sheds +happiness and joy?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +1 + +A long month has passed since my return to Paris. Twice Rose has written +to announce her arrival: I waited for her at the station and she did not +come. Poor child! We all know how difficult it is to break one's bonds, +even the most detested. A thousand invisible ties keep us in the place +where chance has set us; and, when we are about to rend them, they +become so many unsuspected pangs. Instinct blindly resists all change, +as though it were unable to distinguish what reason dimly descries +beyond the trials and dangers of the moment. Rose is leaving nothing but +wretchedness; in front of her is a fair and pleasant prospect. +Nevertheless, she hesitates and she is unhappy. + +In my present restless state, I no longer know what I wish. If she came +to-morrow, should I be glad or not? I cannot tell. I can no longer tell. +Those who do not suffer from this absurd mania for action escape those +painful moments when we are at the mercy of a distracted will that no +longer knows exactly what it ought to want. In absence, our feelings +pass through so many contradictory phases! When the hour of return +comes, finding it impossible to collect so many conflicting sentiments +or to bring back to one point so many different desires, we surrender +ourselves to the impression of the moment; and this impression often has +nothing in common with what we had previously felt and hoped. + +I have done my utmost to make her come. Lately, I have been sending her +urgent and encouraging letters daily. Now, the hour is approaching; and +my only feeling is one of anguish. + +I have told her twenty times that the talk about responsibility which I +hear all around me brings a smile to my lips. I have told her how, by +making my conduct depend on hers, I relieved myself of all personal +anxiety. And to-day my task appears to me so heavy that I can only laugh +at my presumption. + + +2 + +It was foolish of me to write to her: + +"What are your faults? Teach me to know you. Tell me what you are." + +In reality, our faults arise from our circumstances. Events alone set us +the questions to which our actions give a definite answer. Up to the +present, Rose has not lived; she has been accumulating forces that are +now about to come into being. What will they be? Whither will they tend? +We can assume nothing in a life that is but beginning; and is it not +just this that encourages us to seek and to help? Each of us has only to +look back in order to know that, in the shifting soil of characters, we +can fix or establish nothing. I found her acquiescing in a shameful +servitude; and yet I have faith in the nobility of her soul. She was +untruthful; there was no relation between her wishes and her actions, +her thoughts and her words. Nevertheless, I do not doubt her essential +honesty. + +The atmosphere that surrounds us is so often treacherous to our pliant +natures! We women are obliged to lie. So long as we have not found our +"love," we look in vain for a little confidence. No one believes us, no +one receives the best part of our soul. One would think that, for those +who listen to us, our sincerest words are poisoned as they pass through +our fairest smiles. And, when nature has made us beautiful and gifted, +people take pleasure in judging us severely, as they might look at the +summer days through dark-tinted window-panes. + +We are always refused recognition. The first feeling which any work that +we perform arouses is one of doubt. Its merit is disputed. And yet we +have devoted a part of our youth to it; we have left with it a little of +our freshness and our bloom. Very often, it is the ransom of our sorrow. +Our love is written upon it; and it bears the imprint alike of our +smiles and of our tears. Do we not know that woman, for all her culture, +remains closer than man to her instinct and her "soil?" She is less +purely intellectual but more sensitive than man; and, while he can +create everything in the silence of his imagination, she has to live and +suffer everything that she brings into the world. She conceives and +realises with her flesh and with her blood. + +A woman said to me, one day: + +"If I had to begin life over again, I should not have the courage to +avoid a single danger, pain or disappointment. In surmounting them, I +have gained a power of resistance which forms the framework of my +present and my future. I can see the sparkle of my happiness better when +I keep in the shadow of my sad memories; and all that I accomplish, all +that I write seems to me to flow from my past tears." + +To refuse recognition to a woman's work is to refuse to recognise her +soul, her existence and every throb of her heart!... + +Man does not know that torture which every true woman suffers when she +feels that those who are listening to her do not hear her real words, +that those who are looking at her do not see what she is making every +effort to show. Even when she is obeying the simplest impulses of her +nature, people distrust what she says and what she does; and in some +women, good and kind and beautiful, we see repeated the artless miracle +of the flowers that exhaust themselves in giving too much fragrance and +too much blossom. How fearful and timid this moral isolation makes us! +And how thrice courageous we must be in the hour of realisation! If +effort sometimes seems useless to men, what about women, who see +themselves ever confronted by a blank wall of scepticism? + +A man is valued by the weight of the forces which he stirs up for and +against himself. The forces which woman encounters are nearly all +hostile. + + +3 + +I was close upon sixteen. One day, I heard some one say, speaking of +some trifling thing of which I was wrongly suspected: + +"She is no longer a child. She's a woman now and she's lying." + +That was a cruel speech, the sort of speech that influences a whole +life. My eyes were gradually opened to the dreary injustice that casts +its shadow over the fairest destinies of women. Nothing around them +seems clear and natural. Doubt lies in wait for them, calumny rends +them. Now my hour was coming: my skirts, touching the ground for the +first time, had suggested the suspicion of deceit and hypocrisy. + +It was perhaps this wound, inflicted on the soul of the growing girl, +that left the most serious mark on my soul as a woman. Thanks to a +strange prick of conscience, to a singular need to give to others what I +did not obtain, I wanted to trust and I did trust! I gave my confidence +passionately, utterly, rapturously! And this made wells of such deep and +impetuous joy spring up in me that I felt no bitterness when I saw my +confidence marred as it passed through others, even as a clear stream +is muddied in following its course. + +Still, I wanted more; I sought to concentrate in one person, herself +generous and confiding, the happiness which I lacked and whose infinite +value I suspected. Ah, what a blessed relief when I found her! I was as +one who has never seen his face save in distorting mirrors and who +suddenly sees himself as he hoped to be. It seems to me that my +happiness dates from that day. Before then, I suffered, I was all +astray, an ill wind hovered round me; and, on the sands of other lives, +there was never a trace of my footsteps where I believed that I had +passed. Henceforth, another soul would read mine! Another's eyes would +own the candour of my eyes! + +It was little more than a child that introduced me to love and kindness. +She was treated with iron severity, she was unhappy; I was alone: she +became my daily companion. Alas! too early ripe, too intelligent, she +was of those who cannot stay. Is it a presentiment that makes them hurry +so, or is it rather their eagerness to live, their over-sharpened senses +that wear out their strength? + + +4 + +She was not fifteen; but, already matured in body and mind, she +attracted immediate attention. Her walk was so superb that I cannot +think of her without seeing her come swiftly to me, with that dear smile +of hers and with her lovely arms outstretched in greeting. Her limpid +eyes obeyed the light, the light of her heart and the light of the sky, +whereas her dark hair, always tangled and rebellious, bore witness to +the protest of her dauntless spirit. In her company I tasted for the +first time the delight of souls that join and blend and unite in mutual +trust. In an ecstasy of sincerity, for hours I imagined myself baptising +her whole life with my faith. I said to her, over and over again: + +"I believe in you.... I believe in you.... Do you understand what that +means? It is something greater and better than 'I love you:' it means +that one can never be alone again!" + +She died a few months later; and for years I was to seek in vain in +others' hearts and eyes the pure and limpid faith which reflects +everything that bends over it. + +One can love people without knowing them fully; one cannot believe in +them without mingling one's soul with theirs; and the moral luxury of it +is so great that, when we have once known it, if only for a moment, we +demand it from all with whom we come in contact. + +Roseline, all that I then wished for, that charming bond of tenderness +and confidence which should link women together, that difficult and +precious happiness which I knew for one hour through that child-soul: +that is what I am trying to offer you. + +And perhaps you will have something better still, because the assistance +which you receive is deliberate and has stood the test. In the place of +that artless faith rushing to meet life, you find a soul that has been +steeped in it. Rose, may my faith and my soul be your two mirrors. In +one, you will see your forces rise even as we catch the first swell of a +cornfield at dawn. In the other, they will appear to you enlarged, +multiplied, transformed according to nature's laws, ripened by the +dazzling suns of noon, utilised by the intellect, ready at last to +nourish you and nourish others. + + +5 + +Then I met men, I met other women, without ever attaining the wish of my +heart. They came and went. But, at each soul that I lost, I found my own +a little more and I remember most gratefully those who were the most +cruel. This man was ill and unconscious of his actions; that woman was +wicked; that man too frivolous; and another was a liar.... + +A liar! Even to-day, among those withered attachments which it pleases +me to evoke, this last arrests my thoughts. For it was he--O singular +contrast!--who, by his lying and duplicity, finished the work begun by +the frank confidence of the child. + +He was a liar.--Lying came to him so easily and naturally that he +himself did not discriminate between what he had done and what he had +said, between what he had actually experienced and the life which he +pretended to have lived. His was a strange nature, which, in its +eagerness to seem, forgot to be, a nature which, no longer +distinguishing its frontiers from another's, lost in the end its own +domain! A strange example of a strayed consciousness which, knowing no +dividing line, attributed the acts of others to itself, spoke from their +hearts and led their existences! He walked through life as one walks +through a gallery whose walls are panelled with mirrors. He could not +take a step without thinking that he was taking a thousand; and his +vanity enhanced his least actions to such a degree that he actually +believed himself the lover of a woman if he merely kissed her hand. It +was thus that he boasted of making innumerable conquests at every hour +of the day; and, to hear him talk, always tired and exhausted with love, +he was a wreck at twenty, as the price of his inordinate exploits. +Enamoured of his appearance, he saw nothing beyond the blankness of his +little soul, or rather he made it the origin and the end of everything. +Poor empty head! Wretched puppet, whose spring was the vanity which +every passer-by could set in motion at will! + +At a time when I myself did not know it, he had cleverly discovered what +he must appear to be in order to arouse my enthusiasm, thus offering me +the illusion of that faith which I aspire to awaken in you, my Roseline. +Certainly, I owe him much! If an exact copy of a masterpiece can stir us +as deeply as the original, the perfect impersonation of a fine intellect +and a noble character can influence us very happily. How grateful I am +to him for the trouble which he took to give me a representation of +virtues which he did not possess! They were painted on his soul in such +relief, a relief which no reality gives, as I was afterwards to learn! +The artificial lilies that decorate the chapel of the church hard by +have an assurance that is absent from those which will soon fade over +there, on the table. The false boasts an unvarying brilliance, an +imposing emphasis which we never find in the true. And, no doubt, the +qualities of which he vouchsafed me the sight would never have had such +value in my eyes, if his fatuousness had not displayed them to my +youthful admiration as one shows an object behind a magnifying-glass. + +And what does it matter to me now that they were false, those gifts with +which that soul seemed laden, if for a moment I pictured them as real! +After the error was dispelled, the image which I once thought true +remained in me. It had determined my tastes, fixed my opinions, set my +mind at rest. Subsequently, I was to try and refashion the perfection of +which I had beheld the mirage and, with still greater ardour, I was to +pursue in others and conquer at last the reality of the once-known +happiness which I thought that I had found in him. + +We are none the poorer when a sad truth takes the place of a beautiful +dream. Knowledge has already filled the void which the lost illusion +leaves behind it.... + + +6 + +Let us seek then, Rose, let us seek even after we have found! Whether we +be denied or heard, let us go on seeking! When we have lovingly +performed the little things necessary that a flower may peradventure +blossom, if it does not give us what we hoped for, does that prevent us +from loving another exactly like it and from tending it with all the +greater skill and care? + +Our ignorance must be renewed in the presence of each life that touches +ours. May the quest suffice to keep our faith eternally young, that +wonderful, childlike faith which alone encourages, finds and sets free. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +1 + +It was eleven o'clock when I went to meet Rose this morning; but the day +was so dark and the fog so dense that the street-lamps were still lit. + +It was gloomy and depressing. Wrapped in a long cloak and huddled in a +corner of the cab, I shivered with cold and nervousness. I reread her +telegram, dispatched from a railway-station before daybreak; and the +pathos of those few words went to my heart: + + "Am starting. Ran away yesterday. + + "YOUR BABY." + +Yesterday? Then she had spent the night at an inn? Why? + +Alas, in such circumstances, do not we women usually behave like that, +blindly and illogically? We prepare everything, we look out the trains +and choose the most favourable time for flight; we announce the minute +of our arrival to those expecting us; everything is ready, everything is +decided.... Then the appointed day arrives. The hour strikes, the hour +passes and we do not stir. We have been kept by some meaningless trifle +which is magnified in our excitement and acquires an importance which it +never had before: a word, a look from those whom we are going to desert. +We forgive them when we are on the point of leaving them for ever. We +invest them with a little of our own gentleness and kindness. Even as +the colour of things blurs and fades when our eyes are dim with tears, +so the hardest people do not appear so to the anxious heart of a woman. +And pity gains the upper hand, time slips by and we put off to the +morrow and, on the morrow, we put off again.... + +Then, one day, we depart all at once, for no definite reason, depart +empty-handed, with an impassive face and without looking round. We +perform the most energetic action almost without knowing it, for even +our will shirks the too-heavy task. It dreads the preparations, it would +like to be able to tell us feebly that nothing is done, that nothing is +decided, that we can still go back to the past; and this is enough to +hurry our steps towards the future. We go, we walk on and on, we walk +till we are tired. Then does it not seem as if each minute shifted the +problem of our destiny a little more? And in a few hours would it not +need more courage to return than to continue our road? + +But it is nearly always so, by little unforeseen acts, by fear as much +as by weakness, that we perform the inaugural act of our +enfranchisement. We flee bewildered, like poor beasts that have broken +loose; and the first movements of our liberty echo in our hearts with a +melancholy sound of dangling chains. + + +2 + +My dear Rose!... As I go through the damp, dark station, I am already +picturing her fright.... + +The train arrives, full of passengers, who hurry towards the exit in +surging black masses. How shall I recognise her in this crowd, in the +fog? I do not know what she will look like. A lady? A servant? A +servant, I expect, because she will have had nothing ready. I hope so; +and I look out eagerly for a black knitted hood on a head of golden +hair. I am afraid lest she should not see me in her excitement and +nervousness. The flood of passengers separates on either side of the +ticket-collector; and I keep close to him, standing desperately on +tip-toe.... + +The crowd has passed and I have not caught sight of her. There are still +a few people coming from the far end of the train; it is so dark that I +can hardly see.... There is a tall figure all over feathers in the +distance, but it cannot be ... And yet ... yes, yes, it is she! Gracious +goodness, what a sight!... I feel that it would be better to laugh, but +I can't; and I am furious with myself for keeping a grave face. It is +Rose! Rose dressed like a Sainte-Colombe lady! + +She comes along, calmly, smiling and self-possessed; and I am now able +to distinguish the painful hues of that appalling garb: the little +red-velvet hat, studded with glass stones of every imaginable colour and +trimmed with green feathers of the most aggressive shade and style; the +serge skirt, too short in front; the black jacket, quite simple, it is +true, but so badly cut that it murders the figure of the lovely girl! +She has a large basket, carefully corded, on her arm. I really suffer +tortures while she kisses me effusively and says, gaily: + +"You are looking very well, dearest; but you're upset: what's the +matter?" And, before I have time to answer, she adds in a triumphant +tone, "I have a great surprise for you. Look in the basket, look!" + +I need not trouble: at that moment there comes from the basket a +pandemonium of terrified quacks and flapping wings. + +"Yes," Rose continues, laughing merrily, "I stole the old woman's best +two ducks and that's why I'm here.... But first I must tell you, I have +been looking after them for a month, fattening them for your benefit; I +would not go before they were just right. And what do you think? All of +a sudden, she said, at dinner, that she was going to market to-day to +sell them! It gave me an awful turn. As soon as I could leave the +kitchen, I flew to the poultry-yard and I took the train to ---- and +slept there. Luckily, I had already sent my trunk to an hotel." + +I looked at Rose in stupefaction: + +"Your trunk?" + +She went on, with her eyes full of cunning: + +"Oh, your baby was rather clever!... As the old woman never paid me +during the whole of the four years, I worked out what a farm-servant +gets a year and I decided that I was justified in opening an account in +her name with one of our customers who keeps a big drapery-store. And so +I now have a trunk and a complete outfit, as well as these pretty things +which I have on. It was only fair, wasn't it?" + +I turned away my head without a word. It was certainly quite fair; but I +felt my cheeks flushing scarlet. + +Rose gave a yawn which ended in a groan: + +"I'm starving. Suppose we had some lunch; we could come back for the +trunk afterwards." + +I eagerly agreed and hurried her to the exit. From the top of the +stairs, I saw that the fog had lifted at last; the gas-lamps had been +put out and the street lay before us in a melancholy, wan light. The +pavements were covered with mud and the houses showed yellow and +smoke-grimed. Then I looked at Rose and my torture suddenly became more +than I could bear. I placed her in front of me and feverishly unbuttoned +the clumsy jacket, which was too tight at the neck, too narrow across +the shoulders and gave her no waist at all. It fell away on either side; +her bust showed full and uncompressed in a light-coloured blouse; and I +breathed more freely. + +"Now, take off your hat." + +She slowly obeyed; and the gloomy station and the wretched, grimy day +were suddenly illuminated. Oh, those lovely fair curls, which had been +crushed and pushed away under the hideous hat with its too narrow brim, +what bliss it was to see them again full of life and laughter! There +they were in their graceful, natural clusters, some drooping over her +forehead, some brushing her cheeks, others kissing her neck and ears! +How pretty she was! I recognised my Rose at last in her soft, golden, +shimmering, impalpable, incredible tresses. I passed my fingers lightly +over that silk for love's loom, while my eyes feasted on its delicate +colour. No, indeed, nothing was lost. Rose was beautiful, more beautiful +than ever; and the glad words came crowding to my lips. I forgave her +and was angry with myself for my coldness. + +Poor child, she did not know! She had thought, no doubt, that, to go to +Paris, she must absolutely have a hat; and how was she to choose one in +a village-shop? And I told her over and over again how fond I was of +her. + +Rose, a little uncomfortable, with crimson cheeks and downcast eyes, +stood awkwardly turning the unfortunate object in her hands. I looked +round: a few people, intent on their business, were hurrying this way +and that; there was no one on the staircase. Then, bursting with +laughter, I dashed the hat to the floor and, with the tip of my shoe, +precipitated it into space.... + +"Come over to the other side," I said to Rose. "Quick!... Suppose they +brought it back!" + +Good-natured as always and pleased at my amusement, she laughed because +I laughed; and, while we ran to the other exit, the masterpiece of +Sainte-Colombe millinery rolled and rolled and hopped from stair to +stair. + + +3 + +The bustle of the restaurant and the noise of the street outside +affected me tremendously. I was nervous and excited, with a wild desire +to laugh at everything and nothing. I asked Rose all sorts of questions; +and, whenever any one passed: + +"Look!" I said. "Do look!... You're not looking!... There, that's a +pretty dress, a regular Parisienne!... And, over there, by the door: +don't you see that queer woman?" + +The girl looked and then turned to me and, before I could prevent her, +bent down and kissed my hand. I wanted to say: + +"You mustn't do that, Rose!" + +But it was the first charming impulse she had shown: how could I scold +her? Oh, what a miserable thing our education is; and how often should I +not find myself in some ridiculous dilemma! + +Besides, I wished this first day of hers to be all happiness and +expectation! And, while we gaily discussed plans for the future, I tried +to guess what she must be feeling, I scrutinised her movements, I +interpreted her words. But it appeared too soon yet; and it was I, alas, +I who had the best part of her happiness! My eyes fell on her chapped +and swollen hands. She noticed it and murmured, sadly: + +"It's the beetroots. You understand, it's the hard season now." + +"But the beetroot-days are past, my Roseline! The bad seasons are over, +over for good, over for good and all!" + +And I laid stress on every syllable; and, though I was whispering in her +ear, I heard the words "for good and all" bursting from my lips like a +triumphant shout. + +She smiled and went on eating, doing her best to eat nicely, with her +elbows close to her sides and her hands by her plate. Heaven above, did +she understand what I said? + + +4 + +There are some people who seem detached from themselves. They do +something; and the whole flood of their life does not surge into the +action! They draw near to the object of their love; and their whole soul +does not fill their eyes! Their soul is not on their lips, to breathe +love; it is not at their finger-tips, to seize upon happiness; it is not +there to watch life, to attract all that passes, eagerly, greedily and +rapturously! Then where is it and what is it doing outside this dear, +delightful earth?... + +And yet woman, the creature who learns through love the admirable gift +of life, knows better than man how to throw the whole of herself into +fleeting moments. She lives nearer to the edge of her actions. Her mind, +which rarely attaches itself to abstract things, seems to float around +her in search of every sensation. Woman passes and has seen everything; +she remembers and she quivers as though the caressing touch were still +upon her. Her light and charming soul drinks eternity straight out of +the present; and through a man's kisses she has known the art of +absolute oblivion. + +I am afraid that Rose is not much of a woman. Ah, were I in her place, I +should be wild with excitement, out of my mind with joy, as though I +were hearing my own name spoken for the first time! + + +5 + +After lunch, our shopping was a difficult matter. Rose, with her +uncommon figure, could hardly find anything ready-made to suit her. I +had to hunt about and to contrive with thought, for I would not wait a +single day. I was careful to select the quietest and most usual things +for her, so as to conceal her rusticity as far as possible. The neat +dark-velvet toque could have its position altered on her head without +much harm. The black veil would tone down the vividness of a complexion +too long exposed to the open air; and its fine plain net would set off +the admirable regularity of her features. Lastly, the deep leather belt +to her tailor-made frock and the well-starched collar and cuffs would +more or less hide the effort which it cost her to hold herself upright. + + +6 + +Two hours later, I introduced Rose to her new home. We climbed a dark, +interminable staircase. I held a flickering candle in my hand; and, all +out of breath, I explained to her the advantages of this boarding-house, +a quiet place where her privacy would not be invaded and where she could +make useful acquaintances if she wished.... + +At last, we reached the fifth floor. The daylight had faded. A sea of +roofs was beneath us; and, through the panes above our heads, a great +red sky cast lurid gleams over our faces and hands. The girl gave a +start of pleasure as she entered her room. It was peaceful and white; +but the flaming fire and sky at that moment turned it quite rosy, +smiling and aglow. From the rather high window we could see nothing but +space. I had placed a writing-table underneath it, with some books and a +few flowers in a dainty crystal bowl. On the walls, several photographs +of Italian masterpieces disguised the ugliness of the typical +boarding-house paper. The chimney-mantel was bare and the furniture very +simple. + +We were both happy, both talking at once, Rose exclaiming: + +"It's really too lovely, too beautiful!" + +And I was saying: + +"I should have liked to have a room for you arranged after my own taste, +but I had to keep within bounds. So I brought a few little things, as +you see, and bundled the ugly pictures, the tin clock and the plush +flowers into the cupboards. But come and see the best part of it." + +I threw open the window; and, leaning out, we beheld a great expanse +beyond the enormous gutter that edged the roof. Unfortunately, the last +glow of the sunset was swiftly dying away in the mist rising from the +Seine. Opposite us, on the other bank, the Louvre became a heavy, +shapeless mass; on the right, Notre-Dame was nothing but a shadowy +spectre; here and there, in a chance, lingering gleam, we could just +distinguish a steeple, a turret, a house standing out above the rest. + +"We came in too late, Rose; we can see nothing; but how wonderful it all +is! The sound of the quays and bridges hardly reaches us, the city might +be veiled; at this height, its activity is like a dream and I seem to +be living over again those quiet moments which we used to spend side by +side at Sainte-Colombe. Are you happy?" + +Smiling and with her eyes still fixed on the sky, she says: + +"Yes." + +"Perfectly?" + +"Yes." + +"You are not afraid of the future?" + +"Not for my sake, but I am for yours." + +I question her with my eyes; and she adds: + +"I am afraid that I shall never be what you want." + +I put my hand on her shoulder and said: + +"You will be what you are to be; and that is the main thing. It seems to +me at this moment that the greatest ideas are nothing, that the fairest +dreams are childish compared with the simple reality of a human being's +first taste of happiness. You were hidden; and I bring you to the light. +You were a prisoner; and I set you free. I see nothing to fetter you; +and that is all I ask. The life of a beautiful woman should be like a +star whose every beam is the source of a possible joy.... I am glad, for +this is the day of your first deliverance." + +Rose murmured: + +"What will the second be, then?" + +I hesitated for a moment. Then I replied: + +"It is difficult to say, dear; you will come to know gradually. I might +answer, that of your mental or moral life; but I do not wish to lay down +any rule. You are about to start on life's journey; I do not wish to +trace your road with words. How much more precious your smallest actions +are to me!" + +I closed the window and went and sat in a chair by the fire-place. Rose, +standing with uplifted arms in front of the glass, took off her hat and +veil, then undid her mantle and her scarf and put everything carefully +away in the wardrobe. My eyes followed her quiet movements and my heart +rested on each of them. I spoke her name and she came and sat at my +feet, against my knees, with her soft, fair head waiting for my caress. + +It was now night; the fire lit our faces, but the room was dark wherever +the flames did not cast their gleams. A chrysanthemum on a longer stalk +than the others bent its petals into the light. Opposite the fire-place, +within the shade of the bed-curtains, stood a white figure from the +Venice Accademia, an allegory representing _Truth_. We could not see +the mirror which she holds nor the details that surround her. The +pedestal that raises her above mankind was also invisible; only the nude +body of the woman invited and retained the light. + +I called Rose's attention to her: + +"Look, she is more interesting like that. In the doubt which the shadow +casts around her, I see in her a more human and a truer truth." + +After a moment's contemplation, Rose said, gravely: + +"I will never hide one of my thoughts from you." + +Her statement makes me smile; but why disappoint her? She did not yet +know that those who are most sincere find it more difficult than the +others to say what they think. Words, in their souls, are like climbing +plants which, sown by chance in the middle of a roadway, waver and +grope, send out tendrils here and there in despair and end by entangling +themselves with one another. Whereas most people, just as we provide +supports for flowers, bestow certainties and truths upon their words to +which they cling, the sincere refuse to yield to any such illusions. +They hesitate, stammer and contradict themselves without ceasing.... + + +7 + +I drew her head down on my knees; and, softly, in little sentences +interrupted by long pauses, we spoke of the new life that was opening +before her. Soon she said nothing more. The fire went out, the room +became dark and a clock outside struck six. I whispered: + +"I am going, darling...." + +She did not move and I saw that she was asleep. Then I gently released +myself, put a pillow under her head and a wrap over her shoulders and +was almost at the door, when suddenly I pictured her awakening. It would +not do for her to open her eyes in the dark, to feel lost and alone in +an unknown house. I lit the lamp, drew the blinds and made up the fire. + +Roseline was sleeping soundly. Her breathing was hardly perceptible. At +times, a deep sigh sent a quiver through her placid beauty, even as a +keener breath of air ripples the surface of a pool. + +What would she do if she should soon awake?... I looked around. +Everything was peaceful and smiling; the flowers looked fresh and +radiant in the light; the books on the table seemed to be waiting.... I +searched among them for some page to charm her imagination and guide her +first dreams along pleasant paths.... + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +1 + +Rose is sitting by the fire with her bare feet in slippers and a +dressing-wrap flung loosely round her. + +"Are you ill?" + +"No," she says, smiling. + +And her cool hands, pressing mine, and her gay kisses on my cheeks are +no less reassuring than the actual reply. + +"But why are you not dressed?" + +"I don't know; time passed and I let them bring my lunch up to me." + +I look round the darkened bedroom. Through the blind which I lowered +yesterday, the light enters timidly, in a thousand broken little shafts; +on the table, the books still lie as I placed them; on the +chimney-shelf, the flowers, withered by the heat of the fire, are fading +and drooping. + +All these things which had been left untouched were evidence of a +lethargy that hurt me. All the emotions which I had been picturing Rose +as experiencing since the day before had not so much as brushed against +her. One by one, they dropped back sadly upon my heart. + +I rose, moved the flowers, opened the window; and the bright sunshine +restored my confidence. + +"Come, darling, dress and let's go out." + +A thousand questions come crowding to my lips while I help her do her +hair: + +"Do they look after you well? Do you feel very lonely? What are the +other boarders like? Are any of them interesting?" + +Her answers, sensible and placid as usual, did not tell me much, except +that the food was good, that she had slept well and that she was very +comfortable. + +I resolved to wait a few days before asking her any more. + + +2 + +Roseline throws off her wrap and begins dressing. The water trickles +from the sponge which she squeezes over her shoulders, runs down, +lingers here and there and disappears along the flowing lines of her +body, which, in the broad daylight, looks as though it were flooded with +diamonds. A cool fragrance mingles with the scent of the roses. The room +is filled with beauty. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +1 + +It snowed last night for the first time; then it froze; and the trees in +the Tuileries are now showing the white lines of their branches against +a dreary sky. The daylight seems all the duller by comparison with the +glitter of the snow-covered ground.... I slowly follow the little black +path made by the sweepers; I receive an impression of solitude; the +streets are very still; it is as though sick people lay behind the +closed windows; and the voices of the children playing as I pass seem to +come to me through invisible curtains. + +Rose is walking beside me. A keen wind plasters our dresses against us +and raises them behind into dark, waving banners. The icy air whitens +the fine pattern of our veils against our mouth. + +"Where are we going?" asks Rose. + +I hesitate a little before replying: + +"We are going to the Louvre." + +And to put her at her ease and also to guard against a probable +disappointment, I hasten to add: + +"It is a picture-book which we will look at together. You will turn +first to what is bright and attractive to the eye; later on, you will +perceive the shades in the colour, the lines in the form and the +expression in the subject. And, if at first our admiration is given to +what is poor and unworthy, what does it matter, so long as it is aroused +at all?" + + +2 + +We had reached the foot of the stairs that lead to the _Victory of +Samothrace_. After staring at it for a minute, Rose remarked, in a voice +heavy with indifference: + +"It's beautiful, very beautiful." + +I felt that she had no other object than that of pleasing me; but her +natural honesty soon prevailed when I asked her what she admired; and +she answered, simply: + +"I don't know." + +It is in this way, by never utterly and altogether disappointing me, +that she keeps her hold on me. She sees and feels nothing of what we +call beautiful; on the other hand, she is cheerfully oblivious to the +necessity of assuming what she does not feel; she has no idea of posing +either to herself or to others; and the strange coldness of her soul +makes my affection all the warmer. By not trying to appear what she is +not, she constantly keeps alive in me the illusion of what she may be or +of what she will become. + +We walked quickly through a number of rooms and sat down in a quiet +corner. I was already under the spell of that deep, reposeful life which +emanates from some of the Primitives; but Roseline, who had stopped on +the way in order to have a better view of various ugly things, was +talking and laughing loudly. + +This annoyed me; and I was on the point of telling her so. However, I +restrained myself: I should have felt ashamed to be angry with her. Was +she not gay and lively, as I had wished to see her? What right have we +to let ourselves be swayed by the vagaries of our instinct and expect +our companion to feel the same obligation of silence or speech at any +given moment? Our emotion should strike chords so strong and true that +no minor dissonances of varying temperaments can make them ring false. + +Rose chattered away for a long time, speaking all in the same breath of +her convent days, of her terrible godmother, of the scandal which her +sudden disappearance must be creating in the village. Then she stopped; +and I felt her eyes resting vacantly by turns upon myself and upon the +square in the ceiling which at that moment framed a patch of grey sky +studded with whirling snow-flakes. At last, she raised her veil with an +indolent movement, put her hand on my shoulder and, with a long yawn +that revealed all the pearly freshness of her mouth, asked: + +"But what _do_ you see in it?" + +I slipped my arm under hers and led her away through the deserted rooms. +I ought to have spoken. But how empty are our most pregnant words, when +we try to express one iota of our admiration! + +"Why should you mind what I see, my Roseline? It is you and you alone +who can discover what you like and what interests you." + +We were passing in front of Titian's _Laura de' Dianti_. I was struck +with the relationship that existed between her and my companion. +Although Rose was different in colouring, fairer, with lighter eyes, she +had the same purity of feature, the thin, straight nose, the very small +mouth and, above all, the same vague look that lends itself to the most +diverse interpretations. She squeezed my arm: + +"Speak to me, speak to me!" + +I glanced at her. Must it always be so, would she never feel anything +except when my own emotion found utterance? Impressions reached her soul +only after filtering through mine. Love, I thought to myself, love alone +would perhaps one day set free all the raptures now jealously hidden in +those too-chaste nerves. And, in spite of myself, I exclaimed: + +"Don't you think that admiration in a woman is only another form of +love?" + +"But when she is no longer young?" Rose retorted, with a laugh. + +"When she is no longer young, nature doubtless suggests other means of +enthusiasm. Her heart is no longer a bond of union between her and +things. Then her calmer eyes are perhaps able to look at beauty itself, +without having all the joys of a woman's love-filled life to kindle +their fires." + +The Rubens pictures were around us, in all their brilliancy and in all +their glory, uttering cries of passion and luxury with voices of flesh +and blood and youth. They were another proof of what I had just said; +and I confessed to my companion: + +"It is not so long ago, Rose, that I used to pass unmoved through this +dazzling room where the Rubens flourish in their luscious beauty. I used +to look at them: now, I see them; I used to brush by them: now, I grasp +them. I enter into all this riot of happiness around us, which is a +thousand miles away from you, Rose; and it adds to my own joy in +life...." + +"But then what has come to you?" exclaimed the girl. + +I could not help smiling, for, when I tried to explain myself, it seemed +to me that, in the depths of my heart, I was playing with words: + +"All that hurt me yesterday has become a source of admiration to me +to-day. Excess appears riches and plenty, tumult becomes orderly; and I +seem to see in these works the glorification of all that we are bound to +hold supreme in life: health, beauty, strength, love. Is not the +exaggerated splendour of these pictures a triumphant challenge, the +expression of a magnificent principle?" + +We stood silent for a moment; then I added: + +"We never actually realise all that we have in our minds; but one would +think that this man's life and work reached the farthest bounds of his +visions. Or else we are unable even to catch a glimpse of what he saw." + +And, musing upon that mystery, our frail feminine imagination seemed to +us like a landscape fading into the mist: when the day is clear, we can +distinguish the chain of blue mountains whose summits touch the sky, but +our imagination, if it would not be lost in the haze, must keep to the +foreground, in the avenues laid out by man. + +I resumed: + +"We are very far, Rose, from the parsimony of the Primitives, each of +whose works contains almost a human life. In their room and in this, you +will find all the contradictory and complementary instruction which one +would like to give you. Over there, sobriety, patience, assiduous +effort, absolute conscientiousness in the smallest detail; life bowed in +all humility, but yet steadfast and fervent; imagination and beauty that +do not strive to shine: if you want a proof, look at the great number +that remained anonymous! Here, on the contrary, prodigality, exultant +love, blood coursing triumphantly through conquered veins. Rubens is the +apostle of wholehearted happiness. The biggest things seem easy when you +are in his presence. If ever you feel tired and ready to be +discouraged, you should come and look at him. Oh, I wonder, yes, I +wonder to what, to whom I owe this new enthusiasm? What have I seen, +what have I learnt? Through what chance acquaintance, what casual word, +what gesture or action, doubtless far removed from Rubens and his works, +did I suddenly enter into that wonderful kingdom?" + +And, in fact, that is how it had happened. An unknown treasure falls +into the cup of emotion; and the level is raised. Oh, to feel the +long-slumbering sensation rise within one's self; to see that which was +obscure to us yesterday become crystal-clear to-day; to love more +passionately, to understand a little better, to know a little more: that +is, to us women, the real progress, the only progress which we must +desire and seek after! But how can I hope that Rose will progress if she +never feels? + + +3 + +In vain I roamed about with her for an hour, not among the pictures, +whose value she could not yet appreciate, but among the dreams that were +born of them, among the most moving and delectable visions; vain my +emotion, vain my rapture: no answering spark lit her indifferent eyes. +True, there was no question of failure or success; I was putting nothing +to the test: that would have been insanity. But why this weight of +oppression on my spirits? I could not get rid of disturbing memories: +memories of childish raptures finding utterance by chance; memories of +those first loves which fasten upon anything in their haste to live; +memories of virgin hearts nurtured on dreams! + +O enthusiasm, admiration, love, if you were not at first wanderers, +neither seeking nor choosing, if you did not blaze fiercely and +foolishly like a flame burning in the noon-day sun, will you ever be +able to light the darkness with all the splendours that are awaiting +your spark in order to burst into life? + +O sweet eyes of my Roseline, sweet eyes that shine under your soft, fair +lashes like two opals set in pure gold, will you close for all time +without having gazed for a moment upon the wonders of the earth, upon +the real sky of our human life? Is it true that your beams extinguish +life and beauty wherever they rest? + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +1 + +It is six o'clock in the evening; I am taking Rose along the boulevards, +which are so interesting at this time of the year. As usual, I am +astonished at everything that does not astonish her. I look at her as +she walks, beautiful and impassive; I keep step with her stride; and my +thoughts hover to and fro between this life of hers which refuses to +take form and my ideals which are gradually fading out of existence. + +Alas, the days pass over her without arousing either desire or +weariness! From time to time, I suggest some simple, trifling work for +her. But, whether the task be mental or material, whether the duty be +light or complex, she acquiesces in the suggestion only to make it +easier for her to put it aside later, gently and as a matter of course, +like tired arms laying down a burden too heavy for them. + +This evening, I am merciful to her indolence. Going through the hall of +her boarding-house just now, I saw the long table laid, at which the +boarders meet. And I think of those destinies which have been linked +with Rose's during the past fortnight, while I am still unable to obtain +a clear idea of any one of them from her involved and incoherent +accounts. + +The house, which is in the old-fashioned style, has at the back a sort +of glass-covered balcony overhanging the garden of the house next door. +Here the boarders take their coffee after meals, while the proprietress, +a gentle, amiable creature, strives to establish some sort of intimacy +among them, to create an imaginary family out of these strangers who +have come from all parts of the world with varying objects and for +diverse reasons. + +I know from experience the surprises latent in people like these. To +look at them, one would set them down as belonging to stereotyped +models: invalids, travellers, globe-trotters, runaways or students, as +the case may be. I call up figures from my own recollection and describe +them to Rose to encourage her to tell me her impressions. Stray +reminiscences marshal themselves, images rise before my eyes, +obliterating the things and people around me, and a vision appears over +which my memory plays like a reflection in a sheet of water. I see a +long house and its white-and-green front mirrored in a clear lake. A man +and a woman arrive there at the same time; and I tell Rose the story of +the two old wanderers: + +"It was very curious. Imagine those two people unknown to each other, +leaving the same country at about the same age and making the same +journeys in opposite directions. When I met them, they were two +grey-haired, wizened figures, with the same short-sighted eyes blinking +behind the same kind of spectacles. It amused me from the first to look +at them as one and united beforehand, at a time when they were still +unacquainted. I watched them at the meals which brought them closer +together daily, as it were perusing each other with the pleasure of +finding themselves to be alike, as though they were two copies of the +same guide-book. In their equally commonplace minds, recollections took +the place of ideas. To them, life was a sort of long classification; +they recognised no other duty but that of taking notes and cataloguing. +I don't know if they saw some advantage one day in uniting for good, or +if they began at last to think that there are other roads to follow in +the world beside those which lead to lakes, cities, waterfalls and +mountains. At any rate, after a few weeks, they were sharing the same +room; and we learnt that in future they meant to live side by side." + +"Had they got married?" + +"No. And, though they performed a very natural action with the utmost +simplicity, this was certainly not due to loftiness of soul or breadth +of mind. But one felt that their knowledge of the manners and morals of +other civilizations had simplified their moral outlook, just as their +actual physical outlook had been dimmed through seeing nature under so +many aspects." + +Rose began to laugh: + +"There is nothing of that kind at the boarding-house," she said. "For +the moment, we have no old people: nothing but students, two American +women, a Spanish lady...." + +Then she hesitated a little and added: + +"There's an artist, too, an artist who has begun to paint my portrait." + +"Your portrait! And you never told me?" + +I am interrupted by a violent movement from Rose. She has turned round +and, in the gathering dusk, her whirling umbrella comes down furiously +on a man's hat, smashing it in and knocking it off his head. A +gentleman is standing before us, very well-dressed and looking very +uncomfortable. He stammers out a vague excuse and tries to escape, but +the indignant girl addresses him noisily. An altercation follows; the +loafers stop to listen; a crowd gathers round us; and a policeman +hurries towards us from the other side of the road. Fortunately, an +empty cab passes; and I just have time to jump in, followed by Rose, who +continues to brandish a threatening umbrella through the window. + +Then at last I obtain an explanation of the disturbance. It appears +that, without my noticing it, the man had been following us for an hour; +and his silent homage had ended by incensing the girl. + +I kiss her at the door of the boarding-house and walk back thoughtfully +through the streets, reflecting on the surprises which that uncivilised +character holds in store for me. + + +2 + +Rose had perhaps insulted a man who was simply taking pleasure in +admiring her, I thought to myself. What did she know of his intentions? +In any case, is not a silent look enough to keep importunity at a +distance? + +Generally speaking, those who go after us in this way because of the +swing of our hips, or the mass of hair gleaming on our neck, or a +shapely shoe under a lifted skirt, are uninteresting; and among all the +coarse, silly or timid admirers whom a woman can encounter in the street +there are perhaps one or two at most who will leave an ineffaceable mark +on her memory. But why not always admit the most charitable +construction? + + +3 + +I had been wandering a long time at random. Feeling a little tired, I +turned into the Parc Monceau, at the time when it was too late for the +mothers and babies and too early for the lovers' invasion. I sat down by +the transparent lake which so prettily reflects its diadem of arbours. A +young willow drooped in gentle sadness over the face of the water; and +white ducks glided past me in the evening mist. The waning blue light +mingled with the pale vapour that rises over Paris at nightfall; and all +this made a mauve sky behind the dark trees. It was soft and +melancholy, but not grave; and I lingered on, amid the beauty of the +scene, rapt in some woman's reverie. Then a lamp was lighted behind the +bench on which I sat; and on the ground before me I saw a shadow beside +my own. I understood and did not turn my head. + +A man had followed me. I felt his eyes resting heavily on my profile, on +my cheek and on my ungloved hands. He was evidently going to speak. +Annoyed at this, I took a little volume from my pocket and, to protect +my solitude, began to read. + +But soon I guessed that he was reading with me; and my mind thus +mingling with a stranger's passed over the words without quite following +them. His persistency angered me; and I closed the book. + +Then he said to me: + +"Yes, you are very beautiful." + +The words fell into my soul with a disquieting resonance. I rose with a +flushed face and then hesitated. It was certainly one of those gross and +lying pieces of flattery which we all of us hear at times. Nevertheless, +I resisted the instinctive impulse that would have made me move away. Is +not modesty in such a case merely another stratagem of our coquetry? We +flee, the man pursues and the wrong impression is confirmed. + +Standing in front of him, I frankly turned my eyes on his. Then he +softly repeated the same words. + +Was it the exquisite modulation of his voice? Or again were the gentle, +friendly words the sudden revelation of a troubled life, a sensitive +soul ready to pour itself out in a single phrase and longing to +crystallise itself in one unparalleled second? They surprised me, those +words of his, they seemed to me new words, grave words, because I had +not believed that it was possible to speak them in that way to a +stranger, to speak them in a voice that asked for nothing. + +My whole attitude must have betrayed my twofold astonishment. My eyes +questioned his. Their expression underwent no change. He was really +asking for nothing. Then I smiled and answered, simply: + +"I thank you. A woman is always glad to be told that." + +Taking off his hat, he rose and bowed. I moved away with a slight +feeling of discomfort: would he commit the stupidity of following me? +Had I made a mistake? No, he resumed his seat. He had not blundered +either. + + +4 + +When two people do not know each other and will not meet again, the +words exchanged between them, if they are not mere commonplaces, become +fraught with a strange significance and leave behind them a trail of +melancholy like a mourning-veil; it is the surprise of those voices +which speak to each other and will never be heard again, the fleeting +encounter between glance and glance, the smile which knows not where to +rest and yet would fain enrich the remembrance with a ray of kindness. + +The essential image of a human life is contained in a moment like that. +It awakens, hesitates, seeks, thinks that it has found, speaks a word +and relapses into nothingness. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +1 + +Rose's profile stands out in relief against the dark velvet of the box. +Her soft, fair hair parts into two waves that are like two streams of +honey following the curve of her cheek. Her long neck is very white in +the black gown that frames it; and her gloved hands rest near the fan +that lies opened on her knees like a swan's wing. She is sitting +straight up, with her eyes fixed in front of her. Her attitude is as +dignified and cold as a circlet of brilliants on a beautiful forehead. + +I am alone, at the back of the box. I prefer to listen like that, in the +shadow, unseen. Is not the attention of a woman who is anything of a +coquette, that slight, fitful attention, always affected a little by the +thought, however unconscious, of the effect which she is producing? + + +2 + +I am struck by the general attitude of reverence. In the great silence +through which the music swells, the lives of all those present seem +penetrated with harmony. + +I look at them as at so many open temples, which their thoughts have +deserted in order to join one another in an invisible communion. There +is a kind of homage in the bent heads and lowered eyes of the men. The +women are silent. The fans cease fluttering. The souls of the audience +are uplifted like the silent instruments of a human symphony that +mysteriously rises and rises till it mingles with the other and is +absorbed in it. If some part of us exists beyond words and forms, if our +thought sometimes floats in regions of pure mentality, is it not this +principle deprived of consciousness which bathes in the tremulous waves +of sound? + + +3 + +And Rose is also listening. But Rose listens without hearing. She, whom +the most beautiful things leave unmoved, here preserves an appearance of +absolute attention better than any one else in the audience. She +listens in that passive manner which is characteristic of her nature. +She lives a waking sleep. There is no consciousness, no effort, but +neither any desire. + +When the orchestra fills the house with a song of gladness, I forget my +anxiety and let my imagination soar into its heights and weave romances +around that strange, cold beauty; but, if the music stops, if Rose moves +or speaks, then it comes to earth again with some simple little plan, +quite practical and quite ordinary. + + +4 + +She leant forward and I saw glittering under the electric lamp the +little silver chain which she wore round her neck on the day when I saw +her first, in the Normandy cornfields, standing amid the tall golden +sheaves; and, as I recalled that first impression, the difference +between then and now came like a blinding flash. In the cool morning +breeze, the sickles advance with the sound and the surge of waves; and +the golden expanse bows before the oncoming death. The sky is blue, the +village steeple shimmers in the sunlight, a great calm reigns ... and a +woman stands there, bending over the ground. What have I done? What have +I done? Was not everything better so? + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +1 + +"It looks like snowing," says Rose. + +The words falling upon an absolute silence distract me from my work. + +It is a dull, drab winter's day. There is no colour, no light in the sky +that shows through the muslin blinds. On the branches of the bare trees, +a few dead leaves, which the wind has left behind, shiver miserably at +some passing gust. There is just enough noise for us to enjoy the peace +that enfolds the house. From time to time, carriage-wheels roll by and +the crack of a whip cuts into our silence; then the dog wakes, sits up, +looks questioningly at me and quietly puts his nose back between his +paws and begins to snore again. Rose is sitting opposite him, on the +other side of the fire-place. She is holding a book in her hands without +reading it. Her beautiful eyes are staring dreamily at the fitful +flames. + +I rose and went upstairs to fetch a volume which I wanted. Both of +them, the dog and she, accompanied me, yawning and stretching themselves +as they went. They stood beside the book-case, like two witnesses, +equally useless and equally indispensable, and watched me searching. I +shivered in the cold room. Rose gave a little cough; and the dog tried +to curl himself up in the folds of my skirt. + +Then we all three went down again; and, when I had gone back to my +place, they docilely resumed theirs on either side of the chimney. + +The dog, before settling down, turned several times on his cushion, +arching his back, with his tail between his legs and his critical nose +quivering with satisfaction. Rose also has seen that her armchair is as +comfortable as it can be made. Now, lying back luxuriously, with her +elbows on the rests and her head on a soft cushion, she is evidently not +much troubled at the thought of a long day indoors. + + +2 + +In the two months since Rose left Sainte-Colombe, I have drilled her +into an intermittent attempt at style which is the utmost that she will +ever achieve, I fear; for her will, unhappily, is incapable of +sustained effort. When she has to hold herself upright for several hours +at a time, I see her gradually stooping as though invisible forces were +dragging her down. + +Certainly, it is no longer the Rose of Sainte-Colombe who is here beside +me. How much of her remains? Her general appearance is transformed by +her clothes and the way in which she wears her hair; her voice and +gestures are softer; but all this minute and complex change is but the +subtle effect of events, the disconcerting effect of an influence that +has laid itself upon her nature without altering it in any way. And this +is what really causes my uneasiness. She is changed, but she has not +changed. + +I take her with me wherever I have to go. She accompanies me on my walks +and drives, in my shopping, to the play. Men consider her beautiful, but +her indifference keeps love at a distance: love, the passion in which I +placed, in which I still place the hopes that remain to me. + + +3 + +As for Rose herself, she is always pleased, without being enthusiastic, +and never expresses a wish or a desire. + +I sometimes laugh and say: + +"You have a weatherproof soul; and your common sense is as starched as +your Sunday cap used to be!" + +But at heart she saddens me. To keep my interest in her alive, I find +myself wishing that she had some glaring fault. And at the same time I +am angry with myself for not appreciating the exclusiveness of her +affection better. I am actually beginning to think that this extravagant +sentiment is fatal to her. I look upon it in her heart as I look upon +the great tree in my garden, which interferes with the growth of +everything around it: fond as I am of that tree, I consider it something +of an enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +1 + +This afternoon, the whole atmosphere of the house is changed. There is +no silence, no work. The maid fusses about, spreading out my dresses +before Rose and me. We cannot settle upon anything. + +"We shall have to try them on you," I say. + +But at the very first our choice is made. + +A cry of admiration escapes me at the sight of Rose sheathed from head +to foot in a long green-velvet tunic that falls heavily around her, +without ornament or jewellery. From the high velvet collar, her head +rises like a flower from its calyx; and I have never beheld a richer +harmony than that of her golden hair streaming over the emerald green. + +While I finish dressing her, we talk: + +"You are having all your friends," she says. + +"Some of them, those who live in Paris at this season. I have done for +you to-day what I seldom care to do: I have asked them all together. But +I have made a point of insisting that the strictest isolation shall be +maintained." + +Rose laughed as she asked me what I meant. + +"It's quite simple," I answered. "We shall throw open all the doors; and +there will be no crowding permitted! No general conversation, no loud +talking ..." + +"In short," she exclaimed, "the exact opposite to the convent, where we +were forbidden to talk in twos." + +"That is to say, where you were forbidden to talk at all; for there is +no real conversation with more than one. As long as you have not spoken +to a person alone, can you say that you have ever seen her?" + +She did not appear convinced; and I continued: + +"But just think! Conversation in pairs, when two people are in +sympathy--and they are nearly always in sympathy when they are face to +face--can be as sincere as lonely meditations." + +I felt that she shared my sentiment; but her reasonable nature makes her +always steer a middle course, never leaning to either side. + + +2 + +The pale winter sun is beginning to wane, but there is still plenty of +daylight in the white drawing-room. And I look at my friends, who have +formed little groups in harmony with my wishes and their own. When an +increased intimacy brings us all closer together, the party will gain by +that earlier informality. Each life will have been given its normal +pitch and will try at least to keep it. For our souls are such sensitive +instruments that they can rarely strike as much as a true third. + +Blanche, with the agate eyes and the cloud of chestnut hair, is a +picture of autumn in the brown and red of her frock, with its bands of +sable. She is listening attentively to Marcienne. The fair Marcienne +herself, whom I love for her passionate pride, is sitting near the +fire-place; and her wonderful profile stands out against the flames. Her +mouth is a fierce red; but the figure which shows through the +pale-coloured tailor-made dress is full of tender childish curves. The +swansdown toque makes her black hair seem blacker still. She is talking +seriously and holding out to the flames her fingers covered with rings. + +The wide-open door reveals the darker bedroom, in which the lights are +already turned on. A young married woman is sitting with her elbows on +the table. She is reading a poem in a low voice; and from time to time a +few words, spoken more loudly, mingle with the semi-silence of the other +rooms. Bending under the lamp-shade, her brown hair is bathed in the +light, while her profile is veiled by her hand and the lines of her body +are lost in the dark dress which melts into the shadow. Near her, +leaning against the white wall, two white figures listen and dream. + +I see Rose. She is standing, all emerald and gold, in the middle of the +next room. Behind her, a mirror reflects the copper candelabra whose +lighted branches surround her with stars. A placidly-smiling Madonna, +chaste and cold, dazzling and glorious, she talks to the inseparables, +Aurelie and Renee. + +Renee, clad in deep mourning, is a delicious little princess of jet, +with lint-white hair and flax-blue irises. Her companion, crowned with +glowing tresses, knows the splendour of her green eyes and, with a +cunning fan-like play of her long eyelids, amuses herself by making them +appear and disappear. + +My attention is recalled to the visitor by my side, a young Dutchwoman +not yet quite at home in France. She is shy in speaking and she does not +know my friends. I look at her. Her fair round face is quaintly framed +in the smooth coils of her golden hair. Her eyes are a cloudless blue. +Her nose, which is a little heavy and serious, belies the smiling mouth, +with its corners that turn up so readily. The very long and very lovely +neck makes one follow in thought the hollow of the nape and the slope of +the shoulders vanishing in a snowy cloud of Mechlin lace. On the +deliberately antiquated black-silk dress, a gold chain and a miniature +set in brilliants give the finishing touch to a style classic in its +chastity. Seated in a grandfather's chair in the embrasure of the +window, she reminds one of Mme. de Mortsauf in Balzac's _Lys dans la +vallee_. + +But she is also the very embodiment of Zealand. You can picture her head +covered with a lace cap and her temples adorned with gold corkscrews. +Behind her you conjure up flat horizons, slow-turning wind-mills, little +red-and-green houses in which the inmates seem to play at living. How +charming she looks in the last rays of light, at once childish and +dignified, passive and romantic ... and so different from the rest! + +But has not each her particular interest, her special grace? When my +eyes go from one to another, they tell a rosary of precious beads, each +with its own peculiar beauty, neither greater nor less than its fellows! +What a glad and wondrous thing it is to be women, to be delicate, pretty +things, infinitely sensitive and infinitely varied, living works of art, +matter for kisses, the realised stuff of dreams! When you look at them +like that, solely in the decorative sense, you are ready to condemn +those who work, who think and who concentrate upon an aim of some sort, +for these superfine creatures carry the reason for their existence +within themselves, so great is the perfection which they achieve with a +gesture, an attitude, a glance. And then you reflect upon what they too +often are in the privacy of their lives: narrow and domineering, +attached to petty, useless duties, their minds lacking dignity, their +souls lacking horizon; and you are sorry that they have not grown, +through the sheer consciousness of their beauty, into ways that are +kindly and generous. + +I let my hand rest lightly on Cecilia's hands; and in the sweetness of +the gathering dusk we both dream. Like the scent of flowers, the +different natures seem to find a more precise expression as their +shapes fade. I explain them to Cecilia, who does not know them. + +Aurelie and Renee draw my eyes with their laughter; and I begin with +them. They are the careless lovers, idle for the exquisite pleasure of +idleness. They live a dream-life, the life of a child that sleeps, +dresses itself, goes for a walk, eats sweets and plays with its dolls. +They are good-natured as well as frivolous, lissom of mind as well as of +body, indulgent to others and charming in themselves. Love, resting on +their young and tender lives, makes them more tender yet, like the light +that lingers long and fondly upon a soft-tinted pastel. + +Next comes the turn of Marcienne, who, greatly daring, has broken with +her family and given up worldly luxury, to work and live freely with the +man of her choice. + +Beside her is Blanche, still restless and undecided, attracted by love +and irritated by her sister Hermione, who pursues a vision of charity +and redemption. + +Here my friend's fine profile turns to the other groups; and I continue: + +"The one whom we call Sister Hermione you can see in the dark bedroom, +reading under the light of the lamp, with her face hidden in her +hands." + +"Is she good-looking?" + +"Very, but tries not to seem so. That is why she is always so simply +dressed." + +Cecilia interrupts me: + +"But her dress isn't simple!" + +"You are quite right. It is made complex by a thousand superfluous +fripperies. Hermione has not been slow to understand that, to counteract +perfect beauty, you must read simplicity to mean commonplace +triviality." + +A flutter of silk, a gleam of a silver-white skirt in the waning light, +a whiff of orris-root; and Marcienne glides down to our feet with a +lithe, cat-like movement. In a curt, passionate tone, she says: + +"You are speaking of Hermione. Oh, do try and persuade her sister not to +go the same way: is not one enough? Must more loveliness be wasted?" + +Sitting on a cushion on the floor, she raises her glowing face, her eyes +dark as night, her scarlet mouth, her dazzling pallor. + +"I shall do nothing of the sort," I answer with a laugh, "for I rather +like Hermione's folly; besides, her reason will soon conquer it! The +dangers we run depend on chance; the first roads we take depend on +influences. The way in which we bear those dangers and return from those +roads: that is where the interest begins!" + +"But, tell me," murmurs Cecilia, "what does your Hermione want?" + +"Here is her story, in a couple of words," says Marcienne. "She is rich, +beautiful and talented; and she belongs to an aristocratic English +family. At twenty, she yielded to an impulse and went on the stage; in a +few months, she was a really successful actress; then she made the +acquaintance of a Hindu high-priest. He came and went; and she followed +him. During the last two years, she has been his faithful disciple." + +"But what does she preach?" + +Marcienne made a vague gesture: + +"Buddhist doctrines! She believes that she possesses the true faith and +tries to hand it on to others. In the few days which she has spent in +Paris, she has already made two converts, those two innocents who are +hanging on her words. It would all be charming, you know, if her creed +did not enjoin chastity and if, by holding those views, she did not risk +the awful fate of never knowing love!" + +Marcienne continued, still addressing herself to my new friend: + +"Do you see those pretty creatures in white, standing close to Hermione? +They are two orphans, two girls who fell in love with the same man. I +don't know the details of the romance, nor can I say whether it was +fancy or passion that guided the man's choice. All I know is that he +loved one of them and had a child by her. A little while after, he +deserted her. Thereupon their unhappy love reunited those two hearts +which happy love, as always, had divided. The same devotion and kindness +made them both bend over the one cradle. Oh, the adorable pity that +prompted Anne's heart on the day when, hearing her baby call her mamma +for the first time, she sent for her sister Marie and, holding towards +her those little outstretched arms, those eyes in which consciousness +was dawning, that little fluttering life seeking a resting-place, she +offered the maid, in the exquisite mystery of that first smile, the +first name of love! From that time onward, the baby grew up between its +two mammas as one treads a sunny path between two flowering banks." + +Marcienne had a gift for pretty phrases of this kind, which she would +let fall not without a certain affectation. She liked talking and I +liked listening to her. I asked her what she thought of Rose. She +praised her beauty highly and even said the occasional awkwardness of +her movements made it more uncommon: + +"For that matter," she added, "if it were not so, I should try to be +blind to it. A woman must understand that she lowers herself by +belittling her sisters. How immensely we increase man's ascendancy by +never praising one another!" + +I began to laugh: + +"Alas, I would not dare to say that the wisest among us, in extolling +our own sex, are not once more seeking the admiration of some man!" + +And Marcienne, who has been to such pains to release herself from the +worldly surroundings amid which she suffered, goes on speaking long and +passionately. There is a note of pain in her voice as she says: + +"Everything separates us and removes us one from the other, education +even more than instinct. If woman only knew how she lessens her power by +blindly respecting the petty social laws of which she is nevertheless +the sole judge and dictator! Whereas she hands them down meekly, from +mother to daughter, with all their wearisome restrictions, and grows +indignant if some one bolder ventures to transgress them. And yet it is +in this domain, which is hers, that she might extend her power by +gradually overthrowing the old idols." + +And she also says: + +"Almost always, in defending a woman, we have occasion to strike a +mortal blow at some ancient prejudice. For my part, I must confess that +I take a mischievous delight in bestowing special indulgence on things +which often are too severe a test for that indulgence in others; for, +rather than be suspected of impugning ever so lightly some worn-out +principle, they will wound and wound again the most innocent of their +sisters." + + +3 + +It is almost dark. I leave my companions in order to call for the lamps +and I stop near Rose as I pass through the next room. Here, all the +girls are clustered round Hermione, who is telling them a story of her +travels. + +Anne and Marie are listening respectfully, while the two inseparables, +only half-attentive, are sharing a box of sweets. + +Roseline throws her arms round me and, shrugging her shoulders, says: + +"All this strikes me as such utter nonsense!" + +She is certainly right, with her Normandy common sense; but does she not +need just a touch of this same nonsense to bring her faculties into +play, her powers into action? + + +4 + +When I return to the drawing-room, Blanche calls me with a laugh of +delight: + +"Oh, look!" she cries. "I've found a book with a portrait of my beloved +Elizabeth Browning. Look at that sweet, gentle face, surrounded with +ringlets: it's just as I imagined her. I love her all the better now." + +They had opened other books written by women and, leaning over the +table, were comparing the frontispiece portraits of the authors, +interesting or handsome, grave or smiling, young or old. Even so do +certain little volumes of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries open +nearly always with an engraving faded by time and representing charming +faces all of the same class and often with similar expressions and +features: a delicate nose, a bow-shaped, smiling mouth, intelligent eyes +with no mysterious depths, dimpled cheeks, a string of pearls round the +neck, a loosely-tied kerchief just revealing a swelling bosom, wanton +curls dancing against a dark background in a frame of roses upheld by +Cupids. And the quiver and the arrows and the flying ribbons and the +turtle-doves: all this, joined to the letters, the maxims or the verses, +often grave or even sad, sometimes calm and reasonable, sometimes +passionate, brings before us in a few strokes the harmonious picture of +woman's life. + +"It is no longer the fashion in these days," murmured Blanche. "And yet +is there not an intimate relation between a woman's work and her +appearance?" + +"That is the reason, no doubt," replied Marcienne, "why it seems, unlike +man's, to grow smaller as it passes out of the present. We see the +immortal pages disappear like the fallen petals of a flower. It's sad, +don't you think?" + +Struck with the beauty of her closing words, we listened to her in +silence. She continued to turn the leaves at random and resumed: + +"But, oh, the exquisite art which a woman's work can show when she is +not only beautiful, but truly wise, when a lovely hand indites stately +verse, when a life holds or breathes nothing but high romance ... and +love! For it is love and love alone that makes a woman's brain +conceive." + +Cecilia, who was gradually losing her shyness, made a gesture to silence +us and said, slowly: + +"I'll tell you something!" + +A general peal of laughter greeted this phrase with which the young +Dutchwoman, according to the custom of her country, always ushers in her +least words. To make yourself better understood by slow and absent +minds, is it not well to give a warning? It is a sort of little spring +that goes off first and arouses people's attention. Then the thought is +there, ready for utterance. And sometimes, amid the silence, an +announcement is made that it will be fine to-morrow, or that it is hot +and that a storm is threatening. + +But Cecilia is much too clever to cast aside those little mannerisms of +her native race which so charmingly accentuate her special type of +beauty. So she joined in our laughter with a good grace and, after +repeating her warning, observed, in her hesitating language, that, by +thus admitting ourselves to be the mere creatures of love, we were +justifying the opinion of the men who treat us as "looking-glasses." + +"Looking-glasses? Men's looking-glasses? And why not?" I exclaimed. "It +is not for us women to decry that looking-glass side of us. It is +serious, more serious than you think, for on the beauty of our +reflection often depend our ardour, our courage, our very character and +all the energies that create or affect our actions. Besides, whether men +or women, we can only reflect one another and we ourselves do not become +conscious of our powers until the day of the supreme love, as if, till +then, we had only seen ourselves in pocket-mirrors which never reflect +more than a morsel of our lives, a movement, a gesture ... and which +always distort it!" + +Every mouth quivered with laughter. I insisted: + +"If women often have so much difficulty in learning to know their own +characters, it is because most men are scornful mirrors, occupied with +nothing smaller than the universe and never dreaming of reflecting women +except in a grudging and imperfect fashion." + +"It is true," said Marcienne, thinking of her lover, a man whose +domineering temper often made him unjust to her. "Men's lives would be +less serenely confident if our amiable and accommodating souls did not +afford them a vision incessantly embellished by love ... and always +having infinity for a background!" + +And, with a satirical smile, she added: + +"Let us accept the part of looking-glasses, but let us place our gods in +a still higher light! They will not complain; and we shall at least have +the advantage of seeing beyond them a little space and brightness." + +The conversation then assumed a more personal character, each of us +thinking of the well-beloved: Marcienne, ever mournful and passionate; +the gentle Blanche, anxious, secretly plighted to an absent lover; and +Cecilia, all absorbed in her young happiness with the husband of her +choice. + + +5 + +Hermione and her cluster of girls had gradually come nearer. She dresses +badly, she does her hair with uncompromising severity, but, in spite of +it all, Hermione is very beautiful; and her loveliness triumphs over her +commonplace clothes, even as her generous heart and the noble +restlessness of her mind keep her on a plane which is loftier than the +narrow dogmas of her creed. + +During a moment's silence, I hear her answer a question put by Rose: + +"Oh, what does it matter if I am wrong, as long as I make others happy!" + +And all my friends, like a sheaf of glowing flowers, seemed to be bound +together by that word of loving-kindness. Were they not all, these +bestowers of joy, living in a world into which neither sin nor error +entered, their lives obeying the same eternal principles of love, +following the sacred law of nature which fills our hearts with +tenderness and our bodies with longing? + + +6 + +They were now able to talk together. Their remarks would not be vain, +ordinary or frivolous. During the first moments of isolation, each of +them had pursued her own thoughts and continued her own life. Each had +reached that perfect diapason at which the most antagonistic spirits are +in supreme unison. Heedless of different objects or of diverse aims, the +same yearning for generosity, the same thirst after graciousness and +beauty united their hearts; and their minds, leaping all barriers, came +to an understanding of one another in a region beyond opinions. All +these young and beautiful creatures, all these forms fashioned for +delight exhaled an atmosphere of love. Were they not all alike its +votaries? + +One alone, in a fiercer glow of enthusiasm and with a doubtless finer +sensualism, one alone attempts to offer up her life to a God! The +glorious folly of her! How I love to see her, vainly tormenting her +beauty, seeking infinity, aspiring to bear peace across the world. I see +her soul like a walled garden in which all the flowers lift themselves +higher and higher, struggling to offer themselves to a moment of light. +But, in a day of greater discontent and in an hour of maturity, the +illusory fence will fall and the fair life will stand in open space. +Then, drunk with boundless earth and boundless sky, the woman, restored +to nature, will doubtless find herself more attuned to pleasure than +were the others and more responsive to joy. + +I looked at all those bowed heads, dark or fair, dusky or golden, those +lovely forms revealed by their clinging robes, those delicate profiles +bent over the portraits and writings of their sisters, far-off friends, +vanished, unknown or absent, whose power of love still lives for all men +and for all time ... immortal tears, petals dropped from the flower. + +Then my glistening eyes turned towards my Roseline. She was there, +indifferent, unmoved, perhaps secretly bored. + +And my thoughts wept in my heart. + +The most beautiful things cannot be given. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +1 + +I had been out of town for a time. Returning to Paris a day sooner than +I intended, I wished to give Rose the pleasure of an unexpected arrival +and I went to see her that same evening. Though it was not more than ten +o'clock, the lights were already out in the strictly-managed +boarding-house. There was a row of brass candlesticks on the hall-table. +The man-servant wanted to give me one; but I was impatient, thanked him +hurriedly and ran upstairs in the dark. + +I could not have told why I was so happy; for, though I should not have +been willing to confess it, I had long lost all my illusions about the +girl. But she was so beautiful; and her passive temperament left so much +room for my fancy! I never made any headway; but at the moment it always +seemed to me as if I were heard and understood. I used to write on that +unresisting life as one writes on the sand; and, the easier I found it +to make the impress of my will, the faster was it obliterated. + +When I reached the floor on which Rose's bedroom was, I stopped in the +dark passage. A narrow streak of light showed me that her door was not +quite shut. Then, gathering up my skirts to deaden their sound, I felt +along the wall and crept softly, on tip-toe, so as to take her by +surprise. With infinite precautions, I slowly pushed the door open. I +first caught sight of a corner of the empty bed, with its white curtains +still closed; then of a candle-end burning on the table and of flowers +and a broken vase lying on the ground. What could she be doing? + +I was so far from imagining the truth that I do not know how I beheld it +without betraying my presence by a movement or a sound. There was a +young man in the room. + +I saw his face, straight opposite me, near the guttering candle. A man +in Rose's bedroom! A friend, no doubt; a lover, perhaps! But why had she +never mentioned him to me? I had been away a month; and in not one of +her letters had she ever spoken of him. A friend? A lover? Could she +have a whole existence of which I knew nothing? Could her quiet life be +feigned? But why? + +At the risk of revealing my presence, I opened the door still farther; +and then I saw her profile bending forward. Thus posed, it stood out +against the black marble of the mantel-piece like a cameo. Rose had let +down her hair, as she did every evening. Her bodice was unfastened; and +the two golden tresses brought forward over her breast meekly followed +the curve of her half-exposed bosom. She was not astonished, she was not +even excited. She seemed to acquiesce in the man's presence in her room; +it was no doubt customary. + +And suddenly, amid the thousand details that engaged my attention, a +light flashed across me: was not Rose's companion one of the boarders in +the house, perhaps that painter of whom she had told me, the one who +made a sketch of her head which she brought to me a few days after her +arrival in Paris? + +His eyes never left her. He watched and followed her every movement, +whereas she, in her perfect composure, did not seem even to heed his +presence. And that was what struck me: Rose's impassiveness in the face +of that anxious and silent prayer. Did she not see? Could she not +understand? I almost longed to rush at her and cry: + +"But look, open your eyes; that man is entreating you!... If you do not +share his emotions, at least be touched by his suffering; if not your +lips, give him a glance or a smile!" + +Oh, how like her it all is! And how the anxious pleading of the wooer +resembles the vain waiting of the friend! But, alas, what in my case is +but a disappointment of the heart, a tiresome obstacle to the evolution +of an idea, is perhaps in his case a cruel and lasting ordeal! + +Suddenly, he falls on his knees before the girl. With his shaking hands, +he touches her breast; then he kisses it gently. She does not repel him, +but her bored and absent expression discourages any amorous action and +withers the kisses at the very moment when they alight upon her flesh. +Then he half-raises himself to gaze at her from head to foot; and with +all his ardour he silently asks for the consenting smile and the word +that gives permission. + +I shall never forget his look, the superb animal look, brilliant, +glowing and empty as a ball-room deserted by the dancers, the superb, +outspoken look that accompanies the gift of life and seems to flee its +mystery at the moment when it approaches. + +He stammered a few tender words. His voice thrilled me. It was grave and +clear as a bronze and silver bell. It rang true, for the most ephemeral +desire is not false. I knew, by the sense of his words, that Rose had +not yet given herself. + +Sullenly and as though annoyed by the soft words, she brought the dark +stuff of her bodice over her white bosom. To the young man it was like a +cloud passing over the sky; and, whether or not because the girl's +resistance exasperated him, he suddenly pressed her to him, sought her +lips and made her bend for a moment under the violence of his embrace. +But, with an abrupt movement, with a sort of vindictive rage, she +succeeded in releasing herself. + +Then I fled from the house. + + +2 + +I did not recover myself until I was on the quay outside and felt the +cold night-air against my face. My skirt was trailing on the ground; my +hands made no movement to hold it up. + +With my disgust and resentment there was mingled a vague feeling of +remorse. Was it not I who had taught the girl the shamelessness that +admits desire and the prudence that refuses to submit to it? Had I not +wished for her, above all other treasures, the power of judging, +appreciating, choosing? + +Yes, but when I had talked of choosing, I had never imagined that the +choice could be made in cold blood! So far from that, it had seemed to +me that no more dangerous or painful experience could visit a woman's +heart. The victory of mind over instinct and of will over desire is the +price of a hideous, abnormal struggle opposed to the very law of our +nature. A sad victory baptised with tears, a sacred preparation for the +noble defeat that is to crown a woman's life! + +Besides, it was not her refusal that revolted me, for we cannot judge an +action of which we do not know the reasons; it was her demeanour, her +horrible indifference. The ugliness of the scene would not have offended +me, I reflected, if the woman had been in any way troubled by it; if I +had seen her resist her own desire or at least deplore that which she +was unable to share; if I had seen her struggle for a sentiment or +suffer for an idea, however absurd or wild! But Rose had had neither +tears nor compassion; and the blind instinct that always prompts us to +give our lives had not tempted her. + +I continued to see that face of marble. I heard those impassive words. I +pictured that body which felt no thrill, that mouth which abandoned +itself without giving itself. No, I had never taught her anything of +that kind; for, however light the pain which we cause and whatever its +nature, we are forgiven only if our own heart feels a deeper wound. I +did not understand her conduct. What had prompted it? To what chains of +weakness had her soul stealthily attached itself, that soul which I had +jealously protected against all principles and prejudices? What secret +limits had she assigned herself despite my watchful care to give her +none? + +I felt grieved and disappointed; and yet ... and yet I walked along with +a certain gladness in my step. The tears trembling on my lashes were not +tears of helplessness, but of a too-insistent energy, for they came +above all from my overwrought nerves. My mind saw clear and rent my +remorse like a superfluous veil. + +No, I was not responsible! Our thought, once expressed, no longer +belongs to us. Whether it leave us when scarce ripe, because an accident +has gathered it, or whether it fall in its season, like the leaf +falling from the tree, we know nothing of what it will become; and it is +at once the wretchedness and the greatness of human thought to be +subjected to the infinite forms of every mind and of every existence. + +I walked for a long time without heeding the hour. The sky was clear and +the stars glowed in its depths like live things; in the distance, the +Trocadero decked the night with brilliants. + +And, little by little, hope returned to me. I was persuaded that over +there, in the little room which my care had provided for Rose, love +would yet be the conqueror. She would awaken under those kisses. My +Roseline should yet know passion and rapture. Love would triumph. It +would do what I had been unable to do, it would breathe life into +beauty! And, in the dead stillness, I kept hearing the kisses falling, +falling heavily, like the first drops of a storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +1 + +We are talking like old friends, he and I, in the little white bedroom. +Through the two curtains of the window high up in the wall a great ray +of sunshine falls, a column of dancing light that dies on the table +between us. I sit drumming absent-mindedly with my fingers in the +shimmering motes. He looks at me and I feel no need to speak or to turn +my head. The novelty of his presence makes no impression on me beyond a +feeling of surprise that I do not find it strange. When by chance we do +not hold the same view, the difference of opinion lasts only long enough +to shift the thought which we are considering, even as one shifts an +object to see its different aspects one after the other. + +I came to the boarding-house this morning to see Rose. Her room was +empty. I was on the point of going, when the young man passed. He +recognised me, doubtless from the portraits which Rose had shown him; +and he came up to me of his own accord. His greeting was frank and +natural. There were breadth and spaciousness in his eyes and his smile +as well as in his manner. To justify my friendly interest, I pretended +to have heard about him from Rose as he himself had heard about me: that +is to say, with the most circumstantial details regarding position, +occupations and all the externals of life. He did not therefore enter +into explanations about things of which I was ignorant and we at once +began to talk without any formality. + +What a strange and delightful sensation it was! I remembered all that I +had noticed about him the night before; I knew his character from +admiring its gentleness and patience under the supreme test of +unrequited love, of desire that awakened no response. And he was now +talking to me from the very depths of his soul, while I knew nothing of +who or what he was, nor of what he was doing here. I was really seeing +him from the inside, as we see ourselves behind the scenes of our own +existence, without ever knowing exactly the spectacle which we present +to others. I was observing the inner working of his life before I had +seen the outward presentment. + +Speaking to me of his profession, he told me, with a smile, how little +importance he attached to his painting: + +"It is only a favourable pretext for the life I have chosen. As you +know, my greatest passion is nature; and I cannot but like the work +which trained my eyes to a clearer vision and my nerves to a finer +response." + +He told me of the years which he had wasted in seeking in the customary +amusements the joys which are ordinarily found there. He told me of the +life of luxury and idleness which he had led until the day came when +adverse fate reduced him to living on the income from a small estate +which he owned in the country: a thrice-fortunate day, he added, for +from that moment he had understood that he was made for solitude, +meditation and all the quiet pleasures of nature. Then he +enthusiastically described to me the peaceful charm of his little house +and he employed the words of a lover to extol the charm of his +willow-swept river and the wonders of his flowers and bees. + + +2 + +Then I wanted to know what he thought of Rose. He judged her not +inaccurately; but, with a lover's partiality, he applied the words +balance, gentleness, equanimity to qualities which one day, when the +scales had fallen from his eyes, he would call lack of heart and +feeling. Deep-seated differences, perhaps, but yet not of a nature to +affect the very sound principles that ensured his tranquillity. + +He had no illusions as to the quality of her mind. But to him, as to +most men, a woman's intellectual value was but a relative factor; and he +did not pause to estimate it with any attempt at accuracy, preferring to +repeat: + +"She will not disturb the silence of my life; and her beauty will adorn +it marvellously." + +He had a way of speaking which I liked. He knew how to refine his words +by means of his expression. If they were very positive, his voice would +hesitate; if too grave, a faint smile would lighten their sombreness. If +he spoke ironically, his boyish eyes softened any touch of bitterness in +the wisdom of the satirist. + +I did not like to think that the success of his wooing would mean the +end of his labours. Rose would never become the independent, perfect +woman of my dreams, capable of preserving her personal life in the midst +of love and in all circumstances. Alas, my ambition had soared too +high! Henceforth, I must wish nothing better for her than this purely +ornamental fate. + +"Do you love her?" I asked. + +"I was taken captive at once by her beauty," he answered. "She objected +that this sudden love must be an illusion; and I tried for a time to +think the same. But, before long, suffering taught me the sincerity of +my love. I dare not say whether it is senseless or right or usual; but, +as long as a feeling gives us nothing but joy, we are unable to +recognise it, we doubt it, we smile at it as a light and fleeting thing. +Let anguish come, however, with tears and dread; and it is as though the +seal of reality were placed on our heart. Then we believe in our love." + +I repeated, pensively and happily: + +"Do you really love her?" + +"Yes, I can say so honestly." + +He hesitated a little and, speaking very slowly, as though picking his +words from amid his memories, said: + +"When we are sincere, we are bound to confess that the love which +encircles all the movements of our body follows the movements of its +strength or its weakness equally. It has its hours of exasperation, it +is sometimes a tide that rises and floods everything: the past, the +present, the future, the will, the spirit, the flesh. Then all becomes +peaceful; the waves subside and we think that we love no more. We do +love, however, but with a more detached joy. We have stepped outside +love, as it were, and we contemplate its extent." + +My breath came quickly and my hands, clasped on the table, were pressed +close together. My heart was bursting with gladness for my Roseline. He +saw my emotion and questioned me with deeper interest. + +I replied without hesitation: + +"I am happy in this love which comes to Rose so simply and candidly." + +He pressed my hand as he said: + +"Sometimes, on reading certain passages in your letters, I used to fear +that you might be opposed to my intentions...." + +I began to laugh: + +"Yes, you will have read fine views concerning independence; and a +tirade against the women who surrender too easily; and any number of +things more or less contrary to your hopes. But do you not agree with me +that our principles are at their soundest when they are least rigid and +that our noblest convictions are those of which we see both sides at +once? Woman even more than man must not be afraid of handling her +morality a little roughly when occasion demands it, just as she +sometimes ruffles her laces for the pleasure of the eyes, easily and +naturally and without attaching too much importance to the matter." + + +3 + +He listens to my words as I listen to his, with surprised delight. We +feel as if we were playing with the same thought, for it flashes from +one life to the other without undergoing any alteration. + +In point of fact, the human beings whom we see for the first time are +not always new to us. True, we have never seen each other before, but +our sympathies, our enthusiasms, inasmuch as they are common to both of +us, have met more than once; and, now that we are talking, the form of +our thoughts also corresponds, for, without intending it, we often look +at the most abstract things objectively, because he is a painter and I a +woman. + +Oh, I know no more exquisite surprises than those chance meetings which +suddenly bring you a friend at a turning in life's road! It is like a +charming landscape which one has seen in a dream and which one now finds +in reality, without even having hoped for it. You speak, laugh, +recognise each other and above all you are astonished and go on being +astonished, adorably and shamelessly, like children. + +What we had to say was all interwoven, as though we were both drawing on +the same memories. We were speaking of those friends of a day whom +accident sometimes gives us and whom the very briefness of the emotion +impresses deeply on our heart. They are there for ever, in a few clear, +sharp strokes, like sketches: + +"For instance, you go on a matter of business to see somebody whom you +don't know. You chafe with annoyance as you cross the threshold. In +spite of the material duty which you are performing, you consider that +it is so much time wasted. Then, for some unknown reason, the atmosphere +seems kindly. You find familiar things in the room where you are +waiting: a picture which you might have chosen yourself, books which you +know and like, things which look as if your own hand had arranged them. +And you forget everything. With your forehead against the pane, you look +at the roofs of the houses, at the streets, at all that little scene +which is the constant companion of an existence which you do not know +and with which you are about to come into touch; and your heart beats +very fast, for a sort of foresight tells you that a friend is going to +enter the room." + +"That's quite true; and sometimes even we have already met him at some +house or other; but then his mind displayed itself in a special +attitude, inaccessible, motionless, lifeless, like a thing in a glass +case. Now, we see him before us, in his own surroundings; and everything +is changed. He has a smile which is made of just the same quality of +affection as our own, a look instinct with the same sort of experience, +a laugh that cheerfully faces like dangers, a mind responding to the +same springs. And we talk and are contented and happy; and, when the sun +enters at the window or when the fire flickers merrily in the hearth, we +can easily picture spending the rest of our life there, in gladness and +comfort. Anything that the one says is received by the other with an +exclamation of delight. Yes, we have felt and seen things in the same +way; and this little fact, natural though it may seem, is so rare that +it appears extraordinary!" + +With an abrupt movement that must be customary with him, my companion +shook his head to fling back his thick hair, which darkened his forehead +whenever he leant forward: + +"And very often," he said, "you don't see each other again, or at least +you don't see each other like that, because time is too swift and +because everybody has to go his own road." + +The bright shaft of sunlight was still between us. It came now from a +higher point of the little window. In the shimmering dust, I conjured up +the faces of scarce-seen friends. There were some whose features had +become almost obliterated; but beyond them, as one sees an image in a +crystal, I clearly perceived the ideas, the life, the soul that had for +a moment throbbed on exactly the same level as my own. + +I replied, in a very low voice: + +"We remain infinitely grateful to people who have given us such minutes +as those!" + +And then, certain of hearing myself echoed, I cried, delightedly: + +"Egoists should always be grateful and responsive, for gratitude is +nothing but happiness prolonged by thought...." + +"Yes, that is the whole secret of the responsive soul: to have +sufficient impetus not to stop the sensation at the place where the joy +itself stops." + +"To have simply, like the runner, an impetus that carries us beyond the +goal...." + + +4 + +Thus were our remarks unrolled like the links of one and the same chain; +and yet how different were our two existences! His was devoid of all +restlessness and agitation; and mine was still in need of it. His +intelligence was active, but not at all anxious to appear so. For him, +meditation was the great object; and, when I expressed my admiration of +a modesty impossible to my own undisciplined pride, he replied, in all +simplicity: + +"Do not look upon this as modesty. The over-modest are often those whose +pride is too great to find room on the surface." + +"If I were a man or an older woman than I am," I said, laughingly, "I +would choose your destiny; but, for the time being, I feel a genuine +need to satisfy my youth and to give it a few of the little pleasures +that suit it." + +He tried to jest, like most men who disapprove of the trouble which we +take to please them by making ourselves prettier or more brilliant; but +at heart he was as fond as myself of feminine cajolery and frivolity. + +"You are full of pride," I exclaimed, "when you have accomplished some +noble action or produced some rare work of art; then why should not +women be happy at realising in their persons consummate beauty and +grace? It is very probable that, if Plato or Socrates had suddenly been +turned into beautiful young creatures, their destiny would have been +different from what it was; it is even exceedingly probable that wisdom +would have prompted them very often to lay aside their writings and come +and contemplate their charms in the admiration of men!" + +I quoted the words uttered by a woman who had known and loved admiration +in her day: + +"If life were longer, I would devote as many hours to my body as I now +do to my mind; and I should be right. Unfortunately, I have to make a +choice; and my very love of beauty makes me turn to that which does not +fade...." + + +5 + +We should certainly have gone on talking for hours and without tiring; +but suddenly we both together remembered that Rose must be waiting for +me at my house and I rose to go. + +As I did so, I said: + +"I happen not to know your Christian name. What is it?" + +"Floris." + +Floris! That name, so little known in France but very frequent in +Holland, surprised me; and I had some difficulty in not saying: + +"Then you are not a Frenchman?" + +But all that I said was: + +"Floris, you shall have your Rose!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +1 + +Going down the stairs, I laughed to myself and said: + +"It is really one of love's miracles, that that man should be interested +in Rose. And yet, to a philosopher, does not that beautiful girl offer a +very unusual sense of security? From the point of view of the life which +I had planned for her, she is a failure; but will she not be perfect in +the eyes of a lover, of a man who expects nothing from her but an +occasion for dreams and pleasure?" + +Filled with gladness, I hastened my steps. Although it was the end of +winter, it was still freezing; and it was pleasant to hear the sound of +my feet on the hard ground. I also noticed the noises of the street: +they were sharp and distinct; and in the crisp air things were all black +and white, as though etched in dry-point. + +For a moment, my dream vanished; then suddenly I became aware of it and +I rifled a shop of its flowers and jumped into a cab in order to be +with my Roseline the sooner. + + +2 + +Rose and Floris! The delicious combination filled my heart to +bursting-point. Is it not always some insignificant little accident that +sets our impressions overflowing? Like a child, at the last minute, I +had felt a wish to know what he was called; and I was delighted to find +that it was a name full of grace and colour. Now all my thoughts +clustered around those harmonious syllables. Those remarkable eyes, that +dark hair with its faint wave, that sensitive heart, that profound +intellect, powerful and yet a little tired, like a tree bowed down with +fruit: all this went through life under the name of Floris! + +Then I saw once more his face, his gentleness, his profound charm; and I +never doubted the girl's secret assent. In my fond hope, I went to the +length of imagining that she had wished to choose her life for herself, +independent of my influence; that she had at last understood that, in +order to please me, she must first assert her liberty, without fear of +hurting or vexing me. It was an illusion, certainly; but there are +times when joy thrusts aside reason in order to burst into full blossom, +even as in moments of sorrow our despair often goes beyond reality to +drain itself to the last drop in one passionate outpouring. + + +3 + +Rose was sitting in the drawing-room, waiting for me. I rushed in like a +mad thing, without knowing what I was doing. My laughter, my flowers, my +words all came together and fell upon her like a shower of joy. In one +breath I told her of my indiscretion of the night before, of those +stolen sensations, of my anguish, of my life at a standstill, waiting on +theirs, of my delightful talk with Floris, of the sympathy between us +and lastly of my conviction that happiness was being offered to her here +and now. + +Then I noticed that she said nothing; and, begging her pardon for my +incoherence, I tried to express in serious words the future that awaited +her. But all those glad impressions had dazzled me; I was like some one +who comes suddenly from the bright sunshine into a room. Shadows fell +and rose before my brain as before eyes that have looked too long at +the light; and I could do nothing but kiss her and repeat: + +"Believe me, happiness lies there! Seize it, seize it!" + +At last she murmured, wearily: + +"No, I can't do it." + +I questioned her, anxiously: + +"Perhaps there is some obstacle that separates you? Do you dislike him?" + +"No, I know his whole life and I have nothing against him." + +"Well, then ...?" + +I tried in vain to obtain a definite reply. Her soul was shut, walled +in, almost hostile. Was she refusing herself, as she had once given +herself, without knowing why? Or else was my vague intuition correct and +was a latent energy escaping from that little low, square forehead, +white and pure as a camellia, a force of which she herself was unaware +and which no doubt would one day reveal to me the final choice of her +life? + +I made her sit down and, kneeling beside her, questioned her patiently +and gently as one asks a sick child to describe the pain which one is +anxious to relieve. Silently, gazing vaguely into space, she let +herself rest on my shoulder. The flowers fell from her listless hands. +Some still hung to her dress, with tangled stalks. Red carnations, +mimosa, tuberose, narcissus, hyacinths drunk with perfume, guelder-roses +and white lilac wept at her feet. + +I rose slowly and looked at her, my heart aching for the heedless one +who dropped the joys which chance laid in her arms! + + + + + + +PART THE THIRD + +CHAPTER I + + +1 + +The reason why we judge people better after a lapse of time is that, +when we look at them from a distance, there is no confusion of detail. +The main lines of their character stand out, relieved of the thousand +little alterations and erasures which the scrupulous hand of truth is +constantly making as it passes hither and thither, now rubbing out, now +redrawing, until at last the impression is no longer a very clear one. + +From the day when I separated my life completely from the life of Rose, +her character appeared to me distinctly; and at the same time, now that +it was free to come down to its own level, it asserted itself in its +turn. Until that moment, while I had been careful to put no pressure +upon her, I had nevertheless been asking her to choose her tastes and +occupations on a plane that was unsuitable for her. + +Her moral outlook was good, true and not at all silly, but it was +limited; and, in trying to make her see life swiftly and from above, as +though in a bird's-eye view, I had made it impossible for her to +distinguish anything. + +Her fault was that she had not been able to change, mine was that I had +had too much faith in her possibilities. My optimism had wound itself +around her immobility and fastened to it, even as ivy coils around a +stone statue, without communicating to it the smallest portion of its +sturdy and luxuriant little life. + + +2 + +And now it is six months since we parted; and I am going to-day to see +her for the first time in her new existence. + +I look out of the window of the railway-carriage; and my mind calls up +memories which glide past with the autumn fields. First comes the +departure of Floris, wearied by the incomprehensible attitude of the +girl. He went away shortly after our meeting, still philosophical and +cheerful, in spite of his disappointment. And the part which he played +in my experiment taught me something that guided my efforts into a fresh +direction: if Rose's beauty was to him sufficient compensation for her +commonplace character, could not I also accept the girl as something out +of which to weave romance and beauty? Does not everything lie in the +mere fact of consent? Passive and silent, would she not become a rare +object in my life, a precious stone? + +"Woman blossoms into fullest flower by doing nothing," some one has +said. "Women who do not work form the beauty of the world." + +I took Rose to live with me and for weeks devoted myself exclusively to +her appearance and her manners. I sought if possible to perfect the +exterior. It was all in vain. This beautiful creature was so totally +ignorant of what beauty meant that she was constantly deforming herself; +and I at last gave up the struggle. + +Sadly I remember the last pulsation of my will. It happened in the +silence of my heart; and life went on for a little while longer. Would +it not have been hateful to send Rose away, as one dismisses a servant? +And what act, what fault had she committed to deserve such treatment? +When it would have been so sweet to me to give her everything, for no +reason at all, how could I find a solid reason for taking everything +from her? + +So I said nothing to her; we had none of those horrible explanations +which set bristling spikes on the barriers--inevitable barriers, +alas!--which dissimilarities in taste or character raise between people. +There are certain persons who cannot bear to make any change without a +preliminary explanation. They seem to carry a sort of map in their +heads: on the far side of the frontier that borders the friendly +territory lies the enemy; and it needs but a word, a gesture, a +difference of opinion for you to find yourself in exile. Alas, have we +not enough with all the limits, demarcations, laws and judgments that +are perhaps necessary to the world at large? And must we lay upon +ourselves still others in the intimate relations of life? + +I had no right to set myself up as a judge and I could not have +pronounced sentence. I waited. And, my will being no longer in the way, +circumstances gradually led my companion to her true destiny better than +I could have done. + +She was bored. She was not really made to be a purely decorative object. +In spite of her trailing silk or velvet dresses, twenty times a day I +would find her in the larder, with a loaf under her arm and a knife in +her hand, contentedly buttering thick slices of bread, which she would +eat slowly in huge mouthfuls, looking straight before her as she did so. + +She was bored; and I was powerless to cure this unfamiliar ill. I looked +out some work for her in my busy life. She wrote letters, kept my +accounts, hemmed the maids' aprons. Soon she was running the errands. +One day she answered the front-door. + +I still remember that moment when she came and told me, in her pretty, +gentle way, that there was some one to see me in the drawing-room. I do +not know why, but that insignificant incident suddenly revealed the +truth to me. I was ashamed of myself and turned away my head so that she +should not see me blush. Poor child, she was unconsciously lowering +herself more and more daily. She was becoming my property. I was making +use of her. + +Without saying anything, I at once began to search for something for +her. I hesitated between first one thing and then another; but at last +chance came to my aid. Country-bred as she was, the girl was losing her +colour in the Paris air; she was ordered to leave town. She knew a +family at Neufchatel, in Normandy, who were willing to take her as a +boarder for a few weeks. She went and did not come back. + + +3 + +What did she do there, how did she spend her time? She wrote to me +before long that she was quite happy, that she was earning her +livelihood without difficulty. There was a little linen-draper's shop, +it seemed, kept by an old maid, who, having no relations of her own, had +taken Rose to assist her at first and perhaps to succeed her in time. + +I was not at all surprised. For that matter, when we follow the natural +evolution of things, their conclusion comes so softly that we hardly +notice it. It is the descent which we are approaching: it becomes less +steep at every step and, when we reach it, it is only a faint depression +in the ground. + + +4 + +Strange temperament! The more I think of it, the more it appears to me +as an instance of the dangers of virtue, or at least of what we +understand by the word. Does it not look as though, in the charts of our +characters, the virtues are the ultimate goals which can be reached only +by the way of our faults? Each virtue stands like a golden statue in the +centre of a cross-roads. We can hardly know every side of it unless we +have beheld it from the various paths that lead to it. It shines in a +different manner at the end of each road. + +Rose never became conscious of her good qualities, because she possessed +them too naturally; and she remained poor in the midst of all the riches +which she was unable to discern. + +Oh, if only she had been less wise and had had that ardour, that flame +which feeds on all that is thrown upon it to extinguish it; if she had +had that inordinate prodigality which teaches us by making us commit a +thousand acts of folly; if, in short, she had had faults, vices, +impulses of curiosity, how different her fate would have been! The +equilibrium of a person's character may be compared with that of a pair +of scales; and it is safe to say that, by weighing more heavily upon one +of these, our defects raise our good qualities to their highest level. + + +5 + +But every minute is now bringing me nearer to this life which I am at +last to know; and I gaze absent-mindedly at the Bray country, that +lovely country red with the gold of autumn. By force of habit, my +nerves spell out a few sensations which my thoughts do not put into +words. My heart is beating. Now, with no idea or purpose in my mind, I +am speeding with a full heart towards the girl who was at least the +inspiration of a splendid hope and above all an incentive to action. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +1 + +I arrived at Neufchatel at the gracious hour when the sun is paling; and +I was at once charmed with the kindly aspect of this little Norman town. + +The house-fronts gleaming with fresh paint, the pigeons picking their +way across the streets, the grass growing between the cobble-stones, the +flowers outside the windows and doors, a cleanliness that adorns the +smallest details: all this is so calm and so empty that our life at once +settles there as in a frame that takes with equal ease the happy or the +sad picture which we propose to fit into it. + +It reminds me of Bruges, whose infinite, patient calm is a clean page on +which the visitor's life is printed, happy or distressful at will, since +there is nothing to define its character. It also has the silence of the +little Flemish towns, with their streets without carriages or wayfarers. +The gardens look as though they were artificial; and in the frame of +the open windows we see interiors which are as sharp as pictures. + +Leading out of the main street is a mysterious little alley, dark and +badly paved. It runs upwards and ends in a clump of trees arching +against the blue of the sky. There is no visible gate or doorway. I turn +up it. All along a high wall hang old fire-backs, bas-reliefs of +cracked, rusty-red iron, once licked by the flames, now washed by the +rain. + +I loiter to examine the subjects: coats of arms, trophies of weapons, or +allegories and half-obliterated love-scenes. It is curious to see these +homely relics thus exposed in the street, conjuring up the peaceful soul +of families gathered round the hearth. From over the wall, the air +reaches me laden with hallowed fragrance. I picture the box-bordered +walks on the other side. + +Then I climb higher; and, when I come to the trees, I find a charming +surprise. The public gardens lie in front of me. In the shade of the +public gardens we seem to find the very spirit of a town; it is to the +gardens or to the church that our curiosity always turns in the first +place. Here is the walk edged with stone benches on which old men and +old women sit coughing and gossiping; here mothers bring their work, +while their children run about; and in the centre, at the junction of +the paths, is the platform where the regimental band plays on Sundays. + +The Neufchatel gardens are in no way elaborate: a number of avenues have +been cut out of an ancient wood; and that is all. There are no shrubs; +just a patch of dahlias, with a ridiculous little iron railing round +them. But its whole charm lies in its picturesque situation up above the +town. In between the tall trees with their interlacing boughs, one can +see the slopes of the hills, the plains, the meadows, the gleaming roofs +and the church with its twin spires piercing the blue of the sky. Then, +in the foreground, I see, behind the houses, the little gardens whose +breath reached me just now. They are there, divided into small plots of +equal size, simple or pretentious, sometimes humble kitchen-gardens, but +sometimes also a patchwork adorned with grottoes, arbours and glass +bells. + +Rose mentioned a garden which brightens her little home. Suppose it were +one of these!... A woman appears over there: she is tall and +fair-haired. She stoops over a well; I cannot make out her features. She +draws herself up again. Oh, no, her figure is clumsy, her hair looks +dull and colourless and her clothes vulgar. Rose would never dress like +that, in two colours that clash! Rose would never ... + +I wander into a delicious reverie. How infinitely superior Rose is to +all these people whose lives I can picture around me. Two women sit +cackling beside me on the bench: they are at once guileless and bad, +with their mania for eternally wagging tongues that know no rest. A +little farther on, a good housewife is shaking her troublesome child; a +stout, overdressed woman of the shop-keeping class is flaunting her +finery down one of the walks; a priest passes and, while his lips mumble +prayers, his eyes, held in leash by fear, prowl around me; one of his +flock curtseys to the ground as she meets him. + +A protest rises in my heart at each of the little incidents: is not Rose +rid of all that? Rose long ago gave up going to mass and confession. She +has lost the hypocritical sense of shame, knows neither envy nor malice +and is a stranger to all ostentation. + +I often used to reproach her with her extreme humility. How wrong I was! +I now think that this humility can achieve the same result as pride +itself. One looks too high, the other too low; but both pass by the +petty vanities of life and either of them can keep us equally +indifferent to those vanities. + + +2 + +I rose from my seat with a happy heart. The time had come for me to go +in search of her. I would kiss her in all gratitude. Had she not +enlarged my will to the extent of making it admit her little existence? + +I went through the silent streets, in search of the charming, old-world +name that was to tell me where the aged spinster lived. Rose had said +that I should see it written over the door in blue letters and that it +was opposite a place where they sold sportsmen's and anglers' +requisites, a shop with a sign that would be certain to attract my +attention. + +I therefore walked along with a sure step and suddenly, at a +street-corner, saw a great silver fish flashing to and fro in the breeze +at the end of a long line. Soon I was in a quiet backwater of the town. +There it was! Opposite me, the last gleams of the setting sun shed their +radiance on a very bright little house covered with a luxuriant vine. On +one side, in the same golden light, the name of Isaline Coquet smiled +in sky-blue letters. + +The shop was white, with pearl-grey shutters; and on the ledges were +bunchy plants gay with pink, starry flowers. In the window, a few +starched caps looked as if they were talking scandal on their respective +stands. + +I walked in. The opening of the door roused the tongue of a little rusty +bell, but nobody came. On a big grandfather's chair, near the counter, +were a pair of spectacles and a book. Perhaps Mlle. Coquet had run away +when she caught sight of me through the panes; Rose said that she was +shy and a little frightened at the thought of my coming visit. And I had +the pleasure of looking for my Rose as I followed the mysterious turns +of a primitive passage. + +The walls were spotless and the red-tiled floor shone in the half-light. +I crossed a neat little kitchen, just as a cuckoo-clock was chiming +five, and found myself on the threshold of a small room opening on a +garden. Rose was sitting in the wide, low window. + +The noise of the clock no doubt deadened the sound of my steps, for the +girl did not turn her head. The room exhaled a faint perfume as of +incense and musk; and I seemed to hold all her peaceful little life in +my breath and in that swift glance. All that I could see of her face was +one cheek and the tips of her long eyelashes. Placed as she was in front +of the light, a golden haze shaded the colours of her beautiful hair; +and I lingered in contemplation of the long and graceful curve of her +figure bending over her work. She was sewing in the midst of floods of +stiff white muslin, which formed a chain of snow-clad peaks with blue +reflections around her. I looked at the low-ceilinged room with its +whitewashed wall and its rows of bodices, petticoats and shiny caps +hanging on lines stretched from one side to the other. A grey tom-cat +lay purring on a corner of the table; and, near it, in a well-scrubbed +pot, a pink geranium displayed its sombre leaves and its bright flowers. + +Rose was sewing. At regular intervals, her right arm rose, drew out the +thread and returned to the spot whence it started: an even and captive +movement symbolical of the amount of activity permitted to women! But +was she not to choose that movement among all others? + + +3 + +We dine in her bedroom. What a surprise her room held in store for me! +Rose had arranged it herself, in harmony with the simplicity which I +loved. + +Brightly-painted wooden shelves make patches of colour on the white +walls; the furniture is rustic; and the curtains of white muslin with +mauve spots complete the frank and artless harmony of the room. How +little this was to be expected from Mlle. Coquet's shop! + +Then, on Rose's table, the books I gave her fill the place of honour. I +dare say that she never reads them; and yet I am glad to see them here. + +Rose goes to and fro between our little table and the kitchen. She looks +pretty, she smiles. The slowness of her movements is no longer +lethargic; it simply exhales an air of repose, a perfume of peace that +suits her beauty. Her eyes have fastened on me at once and, as in the +old days, never leave me. + +Is it the tyranny of habit that used to prevent me from reading anything +in them? Now, those eyes that ingenuously drink in my life as the +flowers do the light, those eyes not veiled by any shadow, constantly +bring the tears to mine. She sees this and fondly lays her head on my +shoulder, whispering: + +"I did nothing but expect you, darling, only I had given up hoping...." + +This term of endearment, which she addresses to me for the first time, +as if, being no longer subject to any effort, she were at last yielding +to the sweets of friendship, this expression and my Christian name, +which she utters lovingly, complete the pleasantness of the evening. + +I feel happy amid it all. We who were brought up in the country never +lose our appreciation of its peaceful charm. It bows down our lives as +we bow our forehead in our hands to think beyond our immediate +surroundings; and from its narrow circle we are better able to judge the +expanse which has become necessary to us. + + +4 + +The night rises, things fade away. The sky is a deep blue in the frame +of the open window. Rose brings the lamp: + +"It was the first companion of my solitude," she says, reminiscently; +then, laughing, "the companion of my boredom, the companion of those +long, long evenings...." + +"But now, dearest?..." + +"Ah, now, the days are too short: I have a thousand duties to perform, +my dear little old woman to look after, my customers, my flowers, my +animals; then, in the evening, we often have a caller: the priest, the +notary, the neighbours...." + +Then, suddenly fearing that she has hurt me, she adds, in a caressing +tone: + +"When I am with them, I am always talking about you, so as to comfort +myself for the loss of you; for that is my only sorrow." + + +5 + +An hour or two later, sitting in the garden, we watched the stars +appearing one by one. Our arms were round each other; our fair tresses +were intermingled. We were at the far end of the town. We heard the +sounds of the country ringing in the transparent air; and the crystal +voice of the frogs, that small, clear note falling steadily and marking +time to our thoughts. We were quiet, like everything around us, +unstirred by a breath of wind. + +Rose spoke of her happiness; and I never wearied of inhaling that +delicious tranquillity. I had been thinking of settling her future for +her. And what an inestimable lesson I was learning from her! Rose was +one of those whose road must be marked from hour to hour by a little +duty of some kind or another. It is thus, by limiting themselves, that +these characters arrive at knowing and asserting themselves. She said, +blithely, "my room," "my garden," "my house;" and I smiled as I +reflected that I had once struggled to rid that mind of all useless +bonds. + + +6 + +What a mistake I had made! In order to find her life, she had had to +earn it and to recognise it in the very things that now belonged to it, +to mark every hour of it with humdrum tasks, to create for herself +little troubles on her own level, difficulties which her good sense +could easily overcome. There was nothing unexpected, nothing +far-reaching in her life, never an event beyond the tinkle of the +shop-bell announcing a customer, a little bell with a short, sharp, +cracked ring, stopping on a single note without vibration, as though it +were the very voice of the little souls which it excited. + +In contrast with this humble destiny, I considered my own full of +difficulty and agitation, so crowded and yet doubtless equally empty; I +followed in my mind's eye the lives of my friends; and I reflected that +the nature of us women, alike of the most wayward and the most direct, +is too delicate and too complex for us easily to keep our balance in a +state of complete liberty. + +"When we achieve it," I said to Rose, "it is thanks to a close and +constant observation of ourselves; for woman never has any real moral +strength. Self-sacrifice and kindness alone lend us some, because our +capacity for loving knows no limit: our strength is then a loan which we +make to ourselves at difficult moments by a miracle of love. Once the +crisis is over, we have to pay ... with interest!" + +"In Paris," said Rose, "even from the very first, I had a feeling that I +should never dare to move in the absolute liberty that was offered me. +You are not angry with me?" + +"How could I be? We were both wanderers, you and I, where circumstances +led us, both of us with a passion for sincerity, both of us with the +best of intentions. A cleverer mind than mine would doubtless have +saved you from going out of your way. It had many unnecessary turnings. +But perhaps they had their uses...." + +"Yes," replied my friend, wisely, "for without them, I should not have +been so certain that my choice was right...." + + +7 + +Around us the mysterious life of the night was gradually awaking. All +the animals that shun the daylight were beginning to stir. A hedgehog +brushed against my skirt. In the grass, two glowworms summoned love with +all their fires. The smell of the garden became overpowering. Our +movements and our words throbbed in a scented air. Rose leant towards +me: + +"There is one thought that troubles me," she said. "Have I discouraged +you? Will others better equipped than I still find you ready to lend +them a helping hand?" + +"Why not, Roseline?" And I would have liked to put my very soul into the +kiss which I gave her. "No, you have not discouraged me. The only thing +that matters is to have the power to choose what suits us. Then alone +is it possible for us to develop ourselves without restraint. With your +limited horizon, you are freer, darling, than when you were living with +me, at the mercy of all the fancies which you did not know how to use. +Everything is relative; and instinct makes no mistakes. Yours, by +placing you here among the lives which I can imagine, gives you the +opportunity of excelling. You felt that you needed to live under +conditions in which the effort and the merit would lie in not changing, +in which action would be immobility. You know, Rose, there is always +some common ground in human beings; to reach it, if you do not stoop, +the others will raise themselves. With your beauty which is the wonder +of every one you meet, with that gentleness which wins all hearts and +with your soul which no longer knows either malice or prayer, you will +be a new example of life to all around you." + +Rose was sitting on a higher chair than mine; and this allowed me to let +my head sink into her lap. I no longer dreamt of looking at the +splendour of the night, for was it not throbbing in my heart, where a +star woke every moment? And I thought out loud: + +"You were always asking me the object of my efforts. Do you now +understand that I could not explain what I myself did not understand +perfectly until you revealed it to me?" + +I reflected for a moment and continued: + +"We can wish nothing for others nor force anything on them: we can only +help them to clear the field before and within themselves...." + +She murmured: + +"I understand." + +And I cried: + +"Ah, my dearest, how grateful I am to you! In looking for you, I have +found myself a little more; and it is always so; and that, you see, is +why we must love action. However tiny, however humble, it may be, it +brings us at the same time the knowledge of others and of ourselves. We +appear to fling ourselves stout-heartedly into the stream whose currents +we cannot foresee; we are hurt, we are wounded, we struggle; but, when +we return to the bank, we feel invigorated and refreshed." + +Roseline stroked my forehead lightly with her hands and softly +whispered: + +"There was nothing lacking to my peace of mind but your approval. Now I +am happy and I can begin my life without anxiety." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +1 + +Rose was still asleep when I entered the drowsy bedroom to bid her +good-bye. A small, heart-shaped opening in the middle of the shutters +allowed the first ray of daylight to penetrate. Sleeping happily and +trustfully, with streaming hair and hands out-flung, she lay strewn like +the petals of a flower. I laid my lips on hers and softly went away. + +As I climb the slope that leads out of Neufchatel, I turn and look down +once more on the little town that slumbers everlastingly in its rich +peace. Just there, by the church, I picture the house with its grey +shutters, its white front and its starched caps behind the flower-pots. +Beyond, the green horizons and the blue hill-sides stand clearly marked +in the dawning sun; and I gaze and gaze as far as my eyes can see, +through my lashes sparkling with tears. + +For all her lethargy, her slumber as of a beautiful plant, the soul of +my Rose is wholesome, wholesome as those meadows, those fields, all that +good Norman earth which gave her to me miserable only to take her back +happy and free. Certainly, Rose has not been able to achieve the +strength that makes use of liberty: in that life, still so young, the +will is a dead branch through which the sap no longer flows. At any +rate, what she does possess she will not lose; she is one of those who +instinctively hold in their breath so as not to tarnish the pane through +which a glimpse of infinity stands revealed to them. Her soul could not +take in unlimited happiness, it had to feel a touch of sorrow in order +to taste a little joy. There are many like her, people who perceive that +the light is good when they come out of the darkness, but who are not +able to recognise the light in the radiant beauty of the noon-day +fields. + +The sun rises as I slowly make my way up-hill; the wood along the road +is still wet with the dawn. It offers me its autumnal fragrance; I +breathe it in, I gaze at its golden tints, I think of Rose, of her past +and her future. But, beyond my dreams, an unformed idea seems to spread +like a clear sky, without outline, without colour, without beginning or +end; and I have a secret feeling that I shall try again. + + +2 + +I shall go towards other strangers. I shall seek at random among hearts +and souls! Fearlessly, in spite of censure and derision, I shall lavish +my confidence in order to win that of others. I shall not linger over +the vain pleasure of discovering the traces of my power. We can pour out +our influence boldly: it is a wine that excites no two souls in a like +manner; and we are always ignorant what the nature of the intoxication +will be, whether fruitful or barren, blithe or cheerless. + +I shall go towards other strangers; I understand now that my sole +ambition is to bring life within their reach. What matter what their +thoughts, their loves, their wishes, if at least they have acquired the +taste and the means of thinking, loving and wishing? + +Shall I ever succeed in evolving from this passion of mine a method, a +system that will make my action less blind and uncertain? I think not. + +In a life that never offers us anything logical or foreseen, our moral +nature must needs resemble a drapery that is folded backwards and +forwards over events, souls or circumstances. Let us ask no more than +that it be beautiful and soft, strong and light, submissive to the +least breath and ready to be transformed at its command. Nothing but an +essential principle of humanity and loving-kindness can serve as a +foundation for our actions, without ever confining them. + + +3 + +On the one hand, we have effort, nearly always vain; on the other, +knowledge, which is the second look that makes us discern the ordinary, +the commonplace, where at first we beheld beauty and charm. +Nevertheless, let us worship effort and knowledge above all things. + +Let us act as simply as the little wave that lifts itself and breaks +against the rock. Others come after it; and it is their light kisses +which, all unseen, end by biting into the granite. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHOICE OF LIFE*** + + +******* This file should be named 22411.txt or 22411.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/4/1/22411 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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