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diff --git a/3967-h/3967-h.htm b/3967-h/3967-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ccf33e --- /dev/null +++ b/3967-h/3967-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11207 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Cosmopolis, by Paul Bourget + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cosmopolis, Complete, by Paul Bourget + +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: Cosmopolis, Complete + +Author: Paul Bourget + +Release Date: October 4, 2006 [EBook #3967] +Last Updated: August 23, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COSMOPOLIS, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + COSMOPOLIS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Paul Bourget + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + With a Preface by JULES LEMAITRE, of the French Academy + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> PAUL BOURGET </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>COSMOPOLIS</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0004"> <b>BOOK 1.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>A DILETTANTE AND A BELIEVER <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>THE BEGINNING OF A DRAMA <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>BOLESLAS GORKA <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0008"> <b>BOOK 2.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>APPROACHING DANGER <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>COUNTESS STENO <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>THE INCONSISTENCY OF AN OLD CHOUAN + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>BOOK 3.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>A LITTLE RELATIVE OF IAGO <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>ON THE GROUND <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0015"> <b>BOOK 4.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>LUCID ALBA <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>COMMON MISERY <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>THE LAKE DI PORTO <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>EPILOGUE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PAUL BOURGET + </h2> + <p> + Born in Amiens, September 2, 1852, Paul Bourget was a pupil at the Lycee + Louis le Grand, and then followed a course at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes, + intending to devote himself to Greek philology. He, however, soon gave up + linguistics for poetry, literary criticism, and fiction. When yet a very + young man, he became a contributor to various journals and reviews, among + others to the ‘Revue des deux Mondes, La Renaissance, Le Parlement, La + Nouvelle Revue’, etc. He has since given himself up almost exclusively to + novels and fiction, but it is necessary to mention here that he also wrote + poetry. His poetical works comprise: ‘Poesies (1872-876), La Vie Inquiete + (1875), Edel (1878), and Les Aveux (1882)’. + </p> + <p> + With riper mind and to far better advantage, he appeared a few years later + in literary essays on the writers who had most influenced his own + development—the philosophers Renan, Taine, and Amiel, the poets + Baudelaire and Leconte de Lisle; the dramatist Dumas fils, and the + novelists Turgenieff, the Goncourts, and Stendhal. Brunetiere says of + Bourget that “no one knows more, has read more, read better, or meditated, + more profoundly upon what he has read, or assimilated it more completely.” + So much “reading” and so much “meditation,” even when accompanied by + strong assimilative powers, are not, perhaps, the most desirable and + necessary tendencies in a writer of verse or of fiction. To the + philosophic critic, however, they must evidently be invaluable; and thus + it is that in a certain self-allotted domain of literary appreciation + allied to semi-scientific thought, Bourget stands to-day without a rival. + His ‘Essais de Psychologie Contemporaine (1883), Nouveaux Essais (1885), + and Etudes et Portraits (1888)’ are certainly not the work of a week, but + rather the outcome of years of self-culture and of protracted determined + endeavor upon the sternest lines. In fact, for a long time, Bourget rose + at 3 a.m. and elaborated anxiously study after study, and sketch after + sketch, well satisfied when he sometimes noticed his articles in the + theatrical ‘feuilleton’ of the ‘Globe’ and the ‘Parlement’, until he + finally contributed to the great ‘Debats’ itself. A period of long, hard, + and painful probation must always be laid down, so to speak, as the + foundation of subsequent literary fame. But France, fortunately for + Bourget, is not one of those places where the foundation is likely to be + laid in vain, or the period of probation to endure for ever and ever. + </p> + <p> + In fiction, Bourget carries realistic observation beyond the externals + (which fixed the attention of Zola and Maupassant) to states of the mind: + he unites the method of Stendhal to that of Balzac. He is always + interesting and amusing. He takes himself seriously and persists in + regarding the art of writing fiction as a science. He has wit, humor, + charm, and lightness of touch, and ardently strives after philosophy and + intellectuality—qualities that are rarely found in fiction. It may + well be said of M. Bourget that he is innocent of the creation of a single + stupid character. The men and women we read of in Bourget’s novels are so + intellectual that their wills never interfere with their hearts. + </p> + <p> + The list of his novels and romances is a long one, considering the fact + that his first novel, ‘L’Irreparable,’ appeared as late as 1884. It was + followed by ‘Cruelle Enigme (1885); Un Crime d’Amour (1886); Andre + Cornelis and Mensonges (1887); Le Disciple (1889); La Terre promise; + Cosmopolis (1892), crowned by the Academy; Drames de Famille (1899); + Monique (1902)’; his romances are ‘Une Idylle tragique (1896); La Duchesse + Bleue (1898); Le Fantome (1901); and L’Etape (1902)’. + </p> + <p> + ‘Le Disciple’ and ‘Cosmopolis’ are certainly notable books. The latter + marks the cardinal point in Bourget’s fiction. Up to that time he had seen + environment more than characters; here the dominant interest is psychic, + and, from this point on, his characters become more and more like + Stendhal’s, “different from normal clay.” Cosmopolis is perfectly + charming. Bourget is, indeed, the past-master of “psychological” fiction. + </p> + <p> + To sum up: Bourget is in the realm of fiction what Frederic Amiel is in + the realm of thinkers and philosophers—a subtle, ingenious, highly + gifted student of his time. With a wonderful dexterity of pen, a very + acute, almost womanly intuition, and a rare diffusion of grace about all + his writings, it is probable that Bourget will remain less known as a + critic than as a romancer. Though he neither feels like Loti nor sees like + Maupassant—he reflects. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JULES LEMAITRE + de l’Academie Francaise. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + I send you, my dear Primoli, from beyond the Alps, the romance of + international life, begun in Italy almost under your eyes, to which I have + given for a frame that ancient and noble Rome of which you are so ardent + an admirer. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, the drama of passion which this book depicts has no + particularly Roman features, and nothing was farther from my thoughts than + to trace a picture of the society so local, so traditional, which exists + between the Quirinal and the Vatican. The drama is not even Italian, for + the scene might have been laid, with as much truth, at Venice, Florence, + Nice, St. Moritz, even Paris or London, the various cities which are like + quarters scattered over Europe of the fluctuating ‘Cosmopolis,’ christened + by Beyle: ‘Vengo adesso da Cosmopoli’. It is the contrast between the + rather incoherent ways of the rovers of high life and the character of + perennity impressed everywhere in the great city of the Caesars and of the + Popes which has caused me to choose the spot where even the corners speak + of a secular past, there to evoke some representatives of the most modern, + as well as the most arbitrary and the most momentary, life. You, who know + better than any one the motley world of cosmopolites, understand why I + have confined myself to painting here only a fragment of it. That world, + indeed, does not exist, it can have neither defined customs nor a general + character. It is composed of exceptions and of singularities. We are so + naturally creatures of custom, our continual mobility has such a need of + gravitating around one fixed axis, that motives of a personal order alone + can determine us upon an habitual and voluntary exile from our native + land. It is so, now in the case of an artist, a person seeking for + instruction and change; now in the case of a business man who desires to + escape the consequences of some scandalous error; now in the case of a man + of pleasure in search of new adventures; in the case of another, who + cherishes prejudices from birth, it is the longing to find the “happy + mean;” in the case of another, flight from distasteful memories. The life + of the cosmopolite can conceal all beneath the vulgarity of its whims, + from snobbery in quest of higher connections to swindling in quest of + easier prey, submitting to the brilliant frivolities of the sport, the + sombre intrigues of policy, or the sadness of a life which has been a + failure. Such a variety of causes renders at once very attractive and + almost impracticable the task of the author who takes as a model that + ever-changing society so like unto itself in the exterior rites and + fashions, so really, so intimately complex and composite in its + fundamental elements. The writer is compelled to take from it a series of + leading facts, as I have done, essaying to deduce a law which governs + them. That law, in the present instance, is the permanence of race. + Contradictory as may appear this result, the more one studies the + cosmopolites, the more one ascertains that the most irreducible idea + within them is that special strength of heredity which slumbers beneath + the monotonous uniform of superficial relations, ready to reawaken as soon + as love stirs the depths of the temperament. But there again a difficulty, + almost insurmountable, is met with. Obliged to concentrate his action to a + limited number of personages, the novelist can not pretend to incarnate in + them the confused whole of characters which the vague word race sums up. + Again, taking this book as an example, you and I, my dear Primoli, know a + number of Venetians and of English women, of Poles and of Romans, of + Americans and of French who have nothing in common with Madame Steno, Maud + and Boleslas Gorka, Prince d’Ardea, Marquis Cibo, Lincoln Maitland, his + brother-in-law, and the Marquis de Montfanon, while Justus Hafner only + represents one phase out of twenty of the European adventurer, of whom one + knows neither his religion, his family, his education, his point of + setting out, nor his point of arriving, for he has been through various + ways and means. My ambition would be satisfied were I to succeed in + creating here a group of individuals not representative of the entire race + to which they belong, but only as possibly existing in that race—or + those races. For several of them, Justus Hafner and his daughter Fanny, + Alba Steno, Florent Chapron, Lydia Maitland, have mixed blood in their + veins. May these personages interest you, my dear friend, and become to + you as real as they have been to me for some time, and may you receive + them in your palace of Tor di Nona as faithful messengers of the grateful + affection felt for you by your companion of last winter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PAUL BOURGET. +</pre> + <p> + PARIS, November 16, 1892. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + COSMOPOLIS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 1. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. A DILETTANTE AND A BELIEVER + </h2> + <p> + Although the narrow stall, flooded with heaped-up books and papers, left + the visitor just room enough to stir, and although that visitor was one of + his regular customers, the old bookseller did not deign to move from the + stool upon which he was seated, while writing on an unsteady desk. His odd + head, with its long, white hair, peeping from beneath a once black felt + hat with a broad brim, was hardly raised at the sound of the opening and + shutting of the door. The newcomer saw an emaciated, shriveled face, in + which, from behind spectacles, two brown eyes twinkled slyly. Then the hat + again shaded the paper, which the knotty fingers, with their dirty nails, + covered with uneven lines traced in a handwriting belonging to another + age, and from the thin, tall form, enveloped in a greenish, worn-out coat, + came a faint voice, the voice of a man afflicted with chronic laryngitis, + uttering as an apology, with a strong Italian accent, this phrase in + French: + </p> + <p> + “One moment, Marquis, the muse will not wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I will; I am no muse. Listen to your inspiration comfortably, + Ribalta,” replied, with a laugh, he whom the vendor of old books received + with such original unconstraint. He was evidently accustomed to the + eccentricities of the strange merchant. In Rome—for this scene took + place in a shop at the end of one of the most ancient streets of the + Eternal City, a few paces from the Place d’Espagne, so well known to + tourists—in the city which serves as a confluent for so many from + all points of the world, has not that sense of the odd been obliterated by + the multiplicity of singular and anomalous types stranded and sheltering + there? You will find there revolutionists like boorish Ribalta, who is + ending in a curiosity-shop a life more eventful than the most eventful of + the sixteenth century. + </p> + <p> + Descended from a Corsican family, this personage came to Rome when very + young, about 1835, and at first became a seminarist. On the point of being + ordained a priest, he disappeared only to return, in 1849, so rabid a + republican that he was outlawed at the time of the reestablishment of the + pontifical government. He then served as secretary to Mazzini, with whom + he disagreed for reasons which clashed with Ribalta’s honor. Would passion + for a woman have involved him in such extravagance? In 1870 Ribalta + returned to Rome, where he opened, if one may apply such a term to such a + hole, a book-shop. But he is an amateur bookseller, and will refuse you + admission if you displease him. Having inherited a small income, he sells + or he does not, following his fancy or the requirements of his own + purchases, to-day asking you twenty francs for a wretched engraving for + which he paid ten sous, to-morrow giving you at a low price a costly book, + the value of which he knows. Rabid Gallophobe, he never pardoned his old + general the campaign of Dijon any more than he forgave Victor Emmanuel for + having left the Vatican to Pius IX. “The house of Savoy and the papacy,” + said he, when he was confidential, “are two eggs which we must not eat on + the same dish.” And he would tell of a certain pillar of St. Peter’s + hollowed into a staircase by Bernin, where a cartouch of dynamite was + placed. If you were to ask him why he became a book collector, he would + bid you step over a pile of papers, of boarding and of folios. Then he + would show you an immense chamber, or rather a shed, where thousands of + pamphlets were piled up along the walls: “These are the rules of all the + convents suppressed by Italy. I shall write their history.” Then he would + stare at you, for he would fear that you might be a spy sent by the king + with the sole object of learning the plans of his most dangerous enemy—one + of those spies of whom he has been so much in awe that for twenty years no + one has known where he slept, where he ate, where he hid when the shutters + of his shop in the Rue Borgognona were closed. He expected, on account of + his past, and his secret manner, to be arrested at the time of the outrage + of Passanante as one of the members of those Circoli Barsanti, to whom a + refractory corporal gave his name. + </p> + <p> + But, on examining the dusty cartoons of the old book-stall, the police + discovered nothing except a prodigious quantity of grotesque verses + directed against the Piedmontese and the French, against the Germans and + the Triple Alliance, against the Italian republicans and the ministers, + against Cavour and Signor Crispi, against the University of Rome and the + Inquisition, against the monks and the capitalists! It was, no doubt, one + of those pasquinades which his customers watched him at work upon, + thinking, as he did so, how Rome abounded in paradoxical meetings. + </p> + <p> + For, in 1867, that same old Garibaldian exchanged shots at Mentana with + the Pope’s Zouaves, among whom was Marquis de Montfanon, for so was called + the visitor awaiting Ribalta’s pleasure. Twenty-three years had sufficed + to make of the two impassioned soldiers of former days two inoffensive + men, one of whom sold old volumes to the other! And there is a figure such + as you will not find anywhere else—the French nobleman who has come + to die near St. Peter’s. + </p> + <p> + Would you believe, to see him with his coarse boots, dressed in a simple + coat somewhat threadbare, a round hat covering his gray head, that you + have before you one of the famous Parisian dandies of 1864? Listen to this + other history. Scruples of devoutness coming in the wake of a serious + illness cast at one blow the frequenter of the ‘Cafe Anglais’ and gay + suppers into the ranks of the pontifical zouaves. A first sojourn in Rome + during the last four years of the government of Pius IX, in that + incomparable city to which the presentiment of the approaching termination + of a secular rule, the advent of the Council, and the French occupation + gave a still more peculiar character, was enchantment. All the germs of + piety instilled in the nobleman by the education of the Jesuits of + Brughetti ended by reviving a harvest of noble virtues, in the days of + trial which came only too quickly. Montfanon made the campaign of France + with the other zouaves, and the empty sleeve which was turned up in place + of his left arm attested with what courage he fought at Patay, at the time + of that sublime charge when the heroic General de Sonis unfurled the + banner of the Sacred Heart. He had been a duelist, sportsman, gambler, + lover, but to those of his old companions of pleasure whom chance brought + to Rome he was only a devotee who lived economically, notwithstanding the + fact that he had saved the remnants of a large fortune for alms, for + reading and for collecting. + </p> + <p> + Every one has that vice, more or less, in Rome, which is in itself the + most surprising museum of history and of art. Montfanon is collecting + documents in order to write the history of the French nobility and of the + Church. His mistresses of the time when he was the rival of the + Gramont-Caderousses and the Demidoffs would surely not recognize him any + more than he would them. But are they as happy as he seems to have + remained through his life of sacrifice? There is laughter in his blue + eyes, which attest his pure Germanic origin, and which light up his face, + one of those feudal faces such as one sees in the portraits hung upon the + walls of the priories of Malta, where plainness has race. A thick, white + moustache, in which glimmers a vague reflection of gold, partly hides a + scar which would give to that red face a terrible look were it not for the + expression of those eyes, in which there is fervor mingled with merriment. + For Montfanon is as fanatical on certain subjects as he is genial and + jovial on others. If he had the power he would undoubtedly have Ribalta + arrested, tried, and condemned within twenty-four hours for the crime of + free-thinking. Not having it, he amused himself with him, so much the more + so as the vanquished Catholic and the discontented Socialists have several + common hatreds. Even on this particular morning we have seen with what + indulgence he bore the brusqueness of the old bookseller, at whom he gazed + for ten minutes without disconcerting him in the least. At length the + revolutionist seemed to have finished his epigram, for with a quiet smile + he carefully folded the sheet of paper, put it in a wooden box which he + locked. Then he turned around. + </p> + <p> + “What do you desire, Marquis?” he asked, without any further preliminary. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, you will have to read me your poem, old redshirt,” said + Montfanon, “which will only be my recompense for having awaited your good + pleasure more patiently than an ambassador. Let us see whom are you + abusing in those verses? Is it Don Ciccio or His Majesty? You will not + reply? Are you afraid that I shall denounce you at the Quirinal?” + </p> + <p> + “No flies enter a closed mouth,” replied the old conspirator, justifying + the proverb by the manner in which he shut his toothless mouth, into + which, indeed, at that moment, neither a fly nor the tiniest grain of dust + could enter. + </p> + <p> + “An excellent saying,” returned the Marquis, with a laugh, “and one I + should like to see engraved on the facade of all the modern parliaments. + But between your poetry and your adages have you taken the time to write + for me to that bookseller at Vienna, who owns the last copy of the + pamphlet on the trial of the bandit Hafner?” + </p> + <p> + “Patience,” said the merchant. “I will write.” + </p> + <p> + “And my document on the siege of Rome, by Bourbon, those three notarial + deeds which you promised me, have you dislodged them?” + </p> + <p> + “Patience, patience,” repeated the merchant, adding, as he pointed with a + comical mixture of irony and of despair to the disorder in his shop, “How + can you expect me to know where I am in the midst of all this?” + </p> + <p> + “Patience, patience,” repeated Montfanon. “For a month you have been + singing that old refrain. If, instead of composing wretched verses, you + would attend to your correspondence, and, if, instead of buying + continually, you would classify this confused mass.... But,” said he, more + seriously, with a brusque gesture, “I am wrong to reproach you for your + purchases, since I have come to speak to you of one of the last. Cardinal + Guerillot told me that you showed him, the other day, an interesting + prayer-book, although in very bad condition, which you found in Tuscany. + Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” said Ribalta, who, leaping over several piles of volumes and + thrusting aside with his foot an enormous heap of cartoons, opened the + drawer of a tottering press. In that drawer he rummaged among an + accumulation of odd, incongruous objects: old medals and old nails, + bookbindings and discolored engravings, a large leather box gnawed by + insects, on the outside of which could be distinguished a partly effaced + coat-of-arms. He opened that box and extended toward Montfanon a volume + covered with leather and studded. One of the clasps was broken, and when + the Marquis began to turn over the pages, he could see that the interior + had not been better taken care of than the exterior. Colored prints had + originally ornamented the precious work; they were almost effaced. The + yellow parchment had been torn in places. Indeed, it was a shapeless ruin + which the curious nobleman examined, however, with the greatest care, + while Ribalta made up his mind to speak. + </p> + <p> + “A widow of Montalcino, in Tuscany, sold it to me. She asked me an + enormous price, and it is worth it, although it is slightly damaged. For + those are miniatures by Matteo da Siena, who made them for Pope Pius II + Piccolomini. Look at the one which represents Saint Blaise, who is + blessing the lions and panthers. It is the best preserved. Is it not + fine?” + </p> + <p> + “Why try to deceive me, Ribalta?” interrupted Montfanon, with a gesture of + impatience. “You know as well as I that these miniatures are very + mediocre, and that they do not in the least resemble Matteo’s compact + work; and another proof is that the prayerbook is dated 1554. See!” and, + with his remaining hand, very adroitly he showed the merchant the figures; + “and as I have quite a memory for dates, and as I am interested in Siena, + I have not forgotten that Matteo died before 1500. I did not go to college + with Machiavelli,” continued he, with some brusqueness, “but I will tell + you that which the Cardinal would have told you if you had not deceived + him by your finesse, as you tried to deceive me just now. Look at this + partly effaced signature, which you have not been able to read. I will + decipher it for you. Blaise de Mo, and then a c, with several letters + missing, just three, and that makes Montluc in the orthography of the + time, and the b is in a handwriting which you might have examined in the + archives of that same Siena, since you come from there. Now, with regard + to this coat-of-arms,” and he closed the book to detail to his stupefied + companion the arms hardly visible on the cover, “do you see a wolf, which + was originally of gold, and turtles of gales? Those are the arms which + Montluc has borne since the year 1554, when he was made a citizen of Siena + for having defended it so bravely against the terrible Marquis de + Marignan. As for the box,” he took it in its turn to study it, “these are + really the half-moons of the Piccolominis. But what does that prove? That + after the siege, and just as it was necessary to retire to Montalcino, + Montluc gave his prayer-book, as a souvenir, to some of that family. The + volume was either lost or stolen, and finally reduced to the state in + which it now is. This book, too, is proof that a little French blood was + shed in the service of Italy. But those who have sold it have forgotten + that, like Magenta and Solferino, you have only memory for hatred. Now + that you know why I want your prayer-book, will you sell it to me for five + hundred francs?” + </p> + <p> + The bookseller listened to that discourse with twenty contradictory + expressions upon his face. From force of habit he felt for Montfanon a + sort of respect mingled with animosity, which evidently rendered it very + painful for him to have been surprised in the act of telling an untruth. + It is necessary, to be just, to add that in speaking of the great painter + Matteo and of Pope Pius II in connection with that unfortunate volume, he + had not thought that the Marquis, ordinarily very economical and who + limited his purchases to the strict domain of ecclesiastical history, + would have the least desire for that prayer-book. He had magnified the + subject with a view to forming a legend and to taking advantage of some + rich, unversed amateur. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, if the name of Montluc meant absolutely nothing to him, + it was not the same with the direct and brutal allusion which his + interlocutor had made to the war of 1859. It is always a thorn in the + flesh of those of our neighbors from beyond the Alps who do not love us. + The pride of the Garibaldian was not far behind the generosity of the + former zouave. With an abruptness equal to that of Montfanon, he took up + the volume and grumbled as he turned it over and over in his inky fingers: + </p> + <p> + “I would not sell it for six hundred francs. No, I would not sell it for + six hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very large sum,” said Montfanon. + </p> + <p> + “No,” continued the good man, “I would not sell it.” Then extending it to + the Marquis, in evident excitement, he cried: “But to you I will sell it + for four hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have offered you five hundred francs for it,” said the nonplussed + purchaser. “You know that is a small sum for such a curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it for four,” insisted Ribalta, growing more and more eager, “not a + sou less, not a sou more. It is what it cost me. And you shall have your + documents in two days and the Hafner papers this week. But was that + Bourbon who sacked Rome a Frenchman?” he continued. “And Charles d’Anjou, + who fell upon us to make himself King of the two Sicilies? And Charles + VIII, who entered by the Porte du Peuple? Were they Frenchmen? Why did + they come to meddle in our affairs? Ah, if we were to calculate closely, + how much you owe us! Was it not we who gave you Mazarin, Massena, + Bonaparte and many others who have gone to die in your army in Russia, in + Spain and elsewhere? And at Dijon? Did not Garibaldi stupidly fight for + you, who would have taken from him his country? We are quits on the score + of service.... But take your prayer-book-good-evening, good-evening. You + can pay me later.” + </p> + <p> + And he literally pushed the Marquis out of the stall, gesticulating and + throwing down books on all sides. Montfanon found himself in the street + before having been able to draw from his pocket the money he had got + ready. + </p> + <p> + “What a madman! My God, what a madman!” said he to himself, with a laugh. + He left the shop at a brisk pace, with the precious book under his arm. He + understood, from having frequently come in contact with them, those + southern natures, in which swindling and chivalry elbow without harming + one another—Don Quixotes who set their own windmills in motion. He + asked himself: + </p> + <p> + “How much would he still make after playing the magnamimous with me?” His + question was never to be answered, nor was he to know that Ribalta had + bought the rare volume among a heap of papers, engravings, and old books, + paying twenty-five francs for all. Moreover, two encounters which followed + one upon the other on leaving the shop, prevented him from meditating on + that problem of commercial psychology. He paused for a moment at the end + of the street to cast a glance at the Place d’Espagne, which he loved as + one of those corners unchanged for the last thirty years. On that morning + in the early days of May, the square, with its sinuous edge, was indeed + charming with bustle and light, with the houses which gave it a proper + contour, with the double staircase of La Trinite-des-Monts lined with + idlers, with the water which gushed from a large fountain in the form of a + bark placed in the centre-one of the innumerable caprices in which the + fancy of Bernin, that illusive decorator, delighted to indulge. Indeed, at + that hour and in that light, the fountain was as natural in effect as were + the nimble hawkers who held in their extended arms baskets filled with + roses, narcissus, red anemones, fragile cyclamens and dark pansies. + Barefooted, with sparkling eyes, entreaties upon their lips, they glided + among the carriages which passed along rapidly, fewer than in the height + of the season, still quite numerous, for spring was very late this year, + and it came with delightful freshness. The flower-sellers besieged the + hurried passers-by, as well as those who paused at the shop-windows, and, + devout Catholic as Montfanon was, he tasted, in the face of the + picturesque scene of a beautiful morning in his favorite city, the + pleasure of crowning that impression of a bright moment by a dream of + eternity. He had only to turn his eyes to the right, toward the College de + la Propagande, a seminary from which all the missions of the world set + out. + </p> + <p> + But it was decreed that the impassioned nobleman should not enjoy + undisturbed the bibliographical trifle obtained so cheaply and which he + carried under his arm, nor that feeling so thoroughly Roman; a sudden + apparition surprised him at the corner of a street, at an angle of the + sidewalk. His bright eyes lost their serenity when a carriage passed by + him, a carriage, perfectly appointed, drawn by two black horses, and in + which, notwithstanding the early hour, sat two ladies. The one was + evidently an inferior, a companion who acted as chaperon to the other, a + young girl of almost sublime beauty, with large black eyes, which + contrasted strongly with a pale complexion, but a pallor in which there + was warmth and life. Her profile, of an Oriental purity, was so much on + the order of the Jewish type that it left scarcely a doubt as to the + Hebrew origin of the creature, a veritable vision of loveliness, who + seemed created, as the poets say, “To draw all hearts in her wake.” But + no! The jovial, kindly face of the Marquis suddenly darkened as he watched + the girl about to turn the corner of the street, and who bowed to a very + fashionable young man, who undoubtedly knew the late pontifical zouave, + for he approached him familiarly, saying, in a mocking tone and in a + French which came direct from France: + </p> + <p> + “Well! Now I have caught you, Marquis Claude-Francois de Montfanon!... She + has come, you have seen her, you have been conquered. Have your eyes + feasted upon divine Fanny Hafner? Tremble! I shall denounce you to his + Eminence, Cardinal Guerillot; and if you malign his charming catechist I + will be there to testify that I saw you hypnotized as she passed, as were + the people of Troy by Helen. And I know very positively that Helen had not + so modern a grace, so beautiful a mind, so ideal a profile, so deep a + glance, so dreamy a mouth and such a smile. Ah, how lovely she is! When + shall you call?” + </p> + <p> + “If Monsieur Julien Dorsenne,” replied Montfanon, in the same mocking + tone, “does not pay more attention to his new novel than he is doing at + this moment, I pity his publisher. Come here,” he added, brusquely, + dragging the young man to the angle of Rue Borgognona. “Did you see the + victoria stop at No. 13, and the divine Fanny, as you call her, alight? + .... She has entered the shop of that old rascal, Ribalta. She will not + remain there long. She will come out, and she will drive away in her + carriage. It is a pity she will not pass by us again. We should have had + the pleasure of seeing her disappointed air. This is what she is in search + of,” added he, with a gay laugh, exhibiting his purchase, “but which she + could not have were she to offer all the millions which her honest father + has stolen in Vienna. Ha, ha!” he concluded, laughing still more heartily, + “Monsieur de Montfanon rose first; this morning has not been lost, and + you, Monsieur, can see what I obtained at the curiosity-shop of that old + fellow who will not make a plaything of this object, at least,” he added, + extending the book to his interlocutor, at whom he glanced with a comical + expression of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to look at it,” responded Dorsenne. “But, yes,” he + continued, as Montfanon shrugged his shoulders, “in my capacity of + novelist and observer, since you cast it at my head, I know already what + it is. What do you bet?... It is a prayer-book which bears the signature + of Marshal de Montluc, and which Cardinal Guerillot discovered. Is that + true? He spoke to Mademoiselle Hafner about it, and he thought he would + mitigate your animosity toward her by telling you she was an enthusiast + and wished to buy it. Is that true as well? And you, wretched man, had + only one thought, to deprive that poor little thing of the trifle. Is that + true? We spent the evening before last together at Countess Steno’s; she + talked to me of nothing but her desire to have the book on which the + illustrious soldier, the great believer, had prayed. She told me of all + her heroic resolutions. Later she went to buy it. But the shop was closed; + I noticed it on passing, and you certainly went there, too.... Is that + true?... And, now that I have detailed to you the story, explain to me, + you who are so just, why you cherish an antipathy so bitter and so + childish—excuse the word!—for an innocent, young girl, who has + never speculated on ‘Change, who is as charitable as a whole convent, and + who is fast becoming as devout as yourself. Were it not for her father, + who will not listen to the thought of conversion before marriage, she + would already be a Catholic, and—Protestants as they are for the + moment—she would never go anywhere but to church... When she is + altogether a Catholic, and under the protection of a Sainte-Claudine and a + Sainte-Francoise, as you are under the protection of Saint-Claude and + Saint-Francois, you will have to lay down your arms, old leaguer, and + acknowledge the sincerity of the religious sentiments of that child who + has never harmed you.” + </p> + <p> + “What! She has done nothing to me?”... interrupted Montfanon. “But it is + quite natural that a sceptic should not comprehend what she has done to + me, what she does to me daily, not to me personally, but to my opinions. + When one has, like you, learned intellectual athletics in the circus of + the Sainte-Beuves and Renans, one must think it fine that Catholicism, + that grand thing, should serve as a plaything for the daughter of a pirate + who aims at an aristocratic marriage. It may, too, amuse you that my holy + friend, Cardinal Guerillot, should be the dupe of that intriguer. But I, + Monsieur, who have received the sacrament by the side of a Sonis, I can + not admit that one should make use of what was the faith of that hero to + thrust one’s self into the world. I do not admit that one should play the + role of dupe and accomplice to an old man whom I venerate and whom I shall + enlighten, I give you my word.” + </p> + <p> + “And as for this ancient relic,” he continued, again showing the volume, + “you may think it childish that I do not wish it mixed up in the shameful + comedy. But no, it shall not be. They shall not exhibit with words of + emotion, with tearful eyes, this breviary on which once prayed that grand + soldier; yes, Monsieur, that great believer. She has done nothing to me,” + he repeated, growing more and more excited, his red face becoming purple + with rage, “but they are the quintessence of what I detest the most, + people like her and her father. They are the incarnation of the modern + world, in which there is nothing more despicable than these cosmopolitan + adventurers, who play at grand seigneur with the millions filibustered in + some stroke on the Bourse. First, they have no country. What is this Baron + Justus Hafner—German, Austrian, Italian? Do you know? They have no + religion. The name, the father’s face, that of the daughter, proclaim them + Jews, and they are Protestants—for the moment, as you have too + truthfully said, while they prepare themselves to become Mussulmen or what + not. For the moment, when it is a question of God!... They have no family. + Where was this man reared? What did his father, his mother, his brothers, + his sisters do? Where did he grow up? Where are his traditions? Where is + his past, all that constitutes, all that establishes the moral man?... + Just look. All is mystery in this personage, excepting this, which is very + clear: if he had received his due in Vienna, at the time of the suit of + the ‘Credit Austro-Dalmate’, in 1880, he would be in the galleys, instead + of in Rome. The facts were these: there were innumerable failures. I know + something about it. My poor cousin De Saint-Remy, who was with the Comte + de Chambord, lost the bread of his old age and his daughter’s dowry. There + were suicides and deeds of violence, notably that of a certain Schroeder, + who went mad on account of that crash, and who killed himself, after + murdering his wife and his two children. And the Baron came out of it + unsullied. It is not ten years since the occurrence, and it is forgotten. + When he settled in Rome he found open doors, extended hands, as he would + have found them in Madrid, London, Paris, or elsewhere. People go to his + house; they receive him! And you wish me to believe in the devoutness of + that man’s daughter!... No, a thousand times no; and you yourself, + Dorsenne, with your mania for paradoxes and sophisms, you have the right + spirit in you, and these people horrify you in reality, as they do me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world,” replied the writer, who had listened to the + Marquis’s tirade; with an unconvinced smile, he repeated: “Not the least + in the world.... You have spoken of me as an acrobat or an athlete. I am + not offended, because it is you, and because I know that you love me + dearly. Let me at least have the suppleness of one. First, before passing + judgment on a financial affair I shall wait until I understand it. Hafner + was acquitted. That is enough, for one thing. Were he even the greatest + rogue in the universe, that would not prevent his daughter from being an + angel, for another. As for that cosmopolitanism for which you censure him, + we do not agree there; it is just that which interests me in him. + Thirdly,... I should not consider that I had lost the six months spent in + Rome, if I had met only him. Do not look at me as if I were one of the + patrons of the circus, Uncle Beuve, or poor Monsieur Renan himself,” he + continued, tapping the Marquis’s shoulder. “I swear to you that I am very + serious. Nothing interests me more than these exceptions to the general + rule—than those who have passed through two, three, four phases of + existence. Those individuals are my museum, and you wish me to sacrifice + to your scruples one of my finest subjects.... Moreover,”—and the + malice of the remark he was about to make caused the young man’s eyes to + sparkle “revile Baron Hafner as much as you like,” he continued; “call him + a thief and a snob, an intriguer and a knave, if it pleases you. But as + for being a person who does not know where his ancestors lived, I reply, + as did Bonhomet when he reached heaven and the Lord said to him: ‘Still a + chimney-doctor, Bonhomet?’—‘And you, Lord?’. For you were born in + Bourgogne, Monsieur de Montfanon, of an ancient family, related to all the + nobility-upon which I congratulate you—and you have lived here in + Rome for almost twenty-four years, in the Cosmopolis which you revile.” + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” replied the Pope’s former soldier, holding up his + mutilated arm, “I might say that I no longer count, I do not live. And + then,” his face became inspired, and the depths of that narrow mind, often + blinded but very exalted, suddenly appeared, “and then, my Rome to me, + Monsieur, has nothing in common with that of Monsieur Hafner nor with + yours, since you are come, it seems, to pursue studies of moral + teratology. Rome to me is not Cosmopolis, as you say, it is Metropolis, it + is the mother of cities.... You forget that I am a Catholic in every + fibre, and that I am at home here. I am here because I am a monarchist, + because I believe in old France as you believe in the modern world; and I + serve her in my fashion, which is not very efficacious, but which is one + way, nevertheless.... The post of trustee of Saint Louis, which I accepted + from Corcelle, is to me my duty, and I will sustain it in the best way in + my power.... Ah! that ancient France, how one feels her grandeur here, and + what a part she is known to have had in Christianity! It is that chord + which I should like to have heard vibrate in a fluent writer like you, and + not eternally those paradoxes, those sophisms. But what matters it to you + who date from yesterday and who boast of it,” he added, almost sadly, + “that in the most insignificant corners of this city centuries of history + abound? Does your heart blush at the sight of the facade of the church of + Saint-Louis, the salamander of Francois I and the lilies? Do you know why + the Rue Bargognona is called thus, and that near by is + Saint-Claudedes-Bourguignons, our church? Have you visited, you who are + from the Vosges, that of your province, Saint-Nicolas-des-Lorrains? Do you + know Saint-Yves-des-Bretons?” + </p> + <p> + “But,” and here his voice assumed a gay accent, “I have thoroughly charged + into that rascal of a Hafner. I have laid him before you without any + hesitation. I have spoken to you as I feel, with all the fervor of my + heart, although it may seem sport to you. You will be punished, for I + shall not allow you to escape. I will take you to the France of other + days. You shall dine with me at noon, and between this and then we will + make the tour of those churches I have just named. During that time we + will go back one hundred and fifty years in the past, into that world in + which there were neither cosmopolites nor dilettantes. It is the old + world, but it is hardy, and the proof is that it has endured; while your + society-look where it is after one hundred years in France, in Italy, in + England—thanks to that detestable Gladstone, of whom pride has made + a second Nebuchadnezzar. It is like Russia, your society; according to the + only decent words of the obscene Diderot, ‘rotten before mature!’ Come, + will you go?” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” replied the writer, “in thinking that. I do not love + your old France, but that does not prevent me from enjoying the new. One + can like wine and champagne at the same time. But I am not at liberty. I + must visit the exposition at Palais Castagna this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not do that,” exclaimed impetuous Montfanon, whose severe face + again expressed one of those contrarieties which caused it to brighten + when he was with one of whom he was fond as he was of Dorsenne. “You would + not have gone to see the King assassinated in ‘93? The selling at auction + of the old dwelling of Pope Urban VII is almost as tragical! It is the + beginning of the agony of what was Roman nobility. I know. They deserve it + all, since they were not killed to the last man on the steps of the + Vatican when the Italians took the city. We should have done it, we who + had no popes among our grand-uncles, if we had not been busy fighting + elsewhere. But it is none the less pitiful to see the hammer of the + appraisers raised above a palace with which is connected centuries of + history. Upon my life, if I were Prince d’Ardea—if I had inherited + the blood, the house, the titles of the Castagnas, and if I thought I + should leave nothing behind me of that which my fathers had amassed—I + swear to you, Dorsenne, I should die of grief. And if you recall the fact + that the unhappy youth is a spoiled child of eight-and-twenty, surrounded + by flatterers, without parents, without friends, without counsellors, that + he risked his patrimony on the Bourse among thieves of the integrity of + Monsieur Hafner, that all the wealth collected by that succession of + popes, of cardinals, of warriors, of diplomatists, has served to enrich + ignoble men, you would think the occurrence too lamentable to have any + share in it, even as a spectator. Come, I will take you to Saint-Claude.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you I am expected,” replied Dorsenne, disengaging his arm, which + his despotic friend had already seized. “It is very strange that I should + meet you on the way, having the rendezvous I have. I, who dote on + contrasts, shall not have lost my morning. Have you the patience to listen + to the enumeration of the persons whom I shall join immediately? It will + not be very long, but do not interrupt me. You will be angry if you will + survive the blow I am about to give you. Ah, you do not wish to call your + Rome a Cosmopolis; then what do you say to the party with which, in twenty + minutes, I shall visit the ancient palace of Urban VII? First of all, we + have your beautiful enemy, Fanny Hafner, and her father, the Baron, + representing a little of Germany, a little of Austria, a little of Italy + and a little of Holland. For it seems the Baron’s mother was from + Rotterdam. Do not interrupt. We shall have Countess Steno to represent + Venice, and her charming daughter, Alba, to represent a small corner of + Russia, for the Chronicle claims that she was the child, not of the + defunct Steno, but of Werekiew-Andre, you know, the one who killed himself + in Paris five or six years ago, by casting himself into the Seine, not at + all aristocratically, from the Pont de la Concorde. We shall have the + painter, the celebrated Lincoln Maitland, to represent America. He is the + lover of Steno, whom he stole from Gorka during the latter’s trip to + Poland. We shall have the painter’s wife, Lydia Maitland, and her brother, + Florent Chapron, to represent a little of France, a little of America, and + a little of Africa; for their grandfather was the famous Colonel Chapron + mentioned in the Memorial, who, after 1815, became a planter in Alabama. + That old soldier, without any prejudices, had, by a mulattress, a son whom + he recognized and to whom he left—I do not know how many dollars. + ‘Inde’ Lydia and Florent. Do not interrupt, it is almost finished. We + shall have, to represent England, a Catholic wedded to a Pole, Madame + Gorka, the wife of Boleslas, and, lastly, Paris, in the form of your + servant. It is now I who will essay to drag you away, for were you to join + our party, you, the feudal, it would be complete.... Will you come?” + </p> + <p> + “Has the blow satisfied you?” asked Montfanon. “And the unhappy man has + talent,” he exclaimed, talking of Dorsenne as if the latter were not + present, “and he has written ten pages on Rhodes which are worthy of + Chateaubriand, and he has received from God the noblest gifts—poetry, + wit, the sense of history; and in what society does he delight! But, come, + once for all, explain to me the pleasure which a man of your genius can + find in frequenting that international Bohemia, more or less gilded, in + which there is not one being who has standing or a history. I no longer + allude to that scoundrel Hafner and his daughter, since you have for her, + novelist that you are, the eyes of Monsieur Guerillot. But that Countess + Steno, who must be at least forty, who has a grown daughter, should she + not remain quietly in her palace at Venice, respectably, bravely, instead + of holding here that species of salon for transients, through which pass + all the libertines of Europe, instead of having lover after lover, a Pole + after a Russian, an American after a Pole? And that Maitland, why did he + not obey the only good sentiment with which his compatriots are inspired, + the aversion to negro blood, an aversion which would prevent them from + doing what he has done—from marrying an octoroon? If the young woman + knows of it, it is terrible, and if she does not it is still more + terrible. And Madame Gorka, that honest creature, for I believe she is, + and truly pious as well, who has not observed for the past two years that + her husband was the Countess’s lover, and who does not see, moreover, that + it is now Maitland’s turn. And that poor Alba Steno, that child of twenty, + whom they drag through these improper intrigues! Why does not Florent + Chapron put an end to the adultery of her sister’s husband? I know him. He + once came to see me with regard to a monument he was raising in + Saint-Louis in memory of his cousin. He respects the dead, that pleased + me. But he is a dupe in this sinister comedy at which you are assisting, + you, who know all, while your heart does not revolt.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon!” interrupted Dorsenne, “it is not a question of that. You + wander on and you forget what you have just asked me.... What pleasure do + I find in the human mosaic which I have detailed to you? I will tell you, + and we will not talk of the morals, if you please, when we are simply + dealing with the intellect. I do not pride myself on being a judge of + human nature, sir leaguer; I like to watch and to study it, and among all + the scenes it can present I know of none more suggestive, more peculiar, + and more modern than this: You are in a salon, at a dining-table, at a + party like that to which I am going this morning. You are with ten persons + who all speak the same language, are dressed by the same tailor, have read + the same morning paper, think the same thoughts and feel the same + sentiments.... But these persons are like those I have just enumerated to + you, creatures from very different points of the world and of history. You + study them with all that you know of their origin and their heredity, and + little by little beneath the varnish of cosmopolitanism you discover their + race, irresistible, indestructible race! In the mistress of the house, + very elegant, very cultured, for example, a Madame Steno, you discover the + descendant of the Doges, the patrician of the fifteenth century, with the + form of a queen, strength in her passion and frankness in her incomparable + immorality; while in a Florent Chapron or a Lydia you discover the + primitive slave, the black hypnotized by the white, the unfreed being + produced by centuries of servitude; while in a Madame Gorka you recognize + beneath her smiling amiability the fanaticism of truth of the Puritans; + beneath the artistic refinement of a Lincoln Maitland you find the + squatter, invincibly coarse and robust; in Boleslas Gorka all the nervous + irritability of the Slav, which has ruined Poland. These lineaments of + race are hardly visible in the civilized person, who speaks three or four + languages fluently, who has lived in Paris, Nice, Florence, here, that + same fashionable, monotonous life. But when passion strikes its blow, when + the man is stirred to his inmost depths, then occurs the conflict of + characteristics, more surprising when the people thus brought together + have come from afar: And that is why,” he concluded with a laugh, “I have + spent six months in Rome without hardly having seen a Roman, busy, + observing the little clan which is so revolting to you. It is probably the + twentieth I have studied, and I shall no doubt study twenty more, for not + one resembles another. Are you indulgently inclined toward me, now that + you have got even with me in making me hold forth at this corner, like the + hero of a Russian novel? Well, now adieu.” + </p> + <p> + Montfanon had listened to the discourse with an inpenetrable air. In the + religious solitude in which he was awaiting the end, as he said, nothing + afforded him greater pleasure than the discussion of ideas. But he was + inspired by the enthusiasm of a man who feels with extreme ardor, and when + he was met by the partly ironical dilettanteism of Dorsenne he was almost + pained by it, so much the more so as the author and he had some common + theories, notably an extreme fancy for heredity and race. A sort of + discontented grimace distorted his expressive face. He clicked his tongue + in ill-humor, and said: + </p> + <p> + “One more question!... And the result of all that, the object? To what end + does all this observation lead you?” + </p> + <p> + “To what should it lead me? To comprehend, as I have told you,” replied + Dorsenne. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no then,” answered the young man, “one debauchery is like + another.” + </p> + <p> + “But among the people whom you see living thus,” said Montfanon, after a + pause, “there are some surely whom you like and whom you dislike, for whom + you entertain esteem and for whom you feel contempt? Have you not thought + that you have some duties toward them, that you can aid them in leading + better lives?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Dorsenne, “is another subject which we will treat of some + other day, for I am afraid now of being late.... Adieu.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu,” said the Marquis, with evident regret at parting. Then, + brusquely: “I do not know why I like you so much, for in the main you + incarnate one of those vices of mind which inspire me with the most + horror, that dilettanteism set in vogue by the disciples of Monsieur + Renan, and which is the very foundation of the decline. You will recover + from it, I hope. You are so young!” Then becoming again jovial and + mocking: “May you enjoy yourself in your descent of Courtille; I almost + forgot that I had a message to give to you for one of the supernumeraries + of your troop. Will you tell Gorka that I have dislodged the book for + which he asked me before his departure?” + </p> + <p> + “Gorka,” replied Julien, “has been in Poland three months on family + business. I just told you how that trip cost him his mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” said Montfanon, “in Poland? I saw him this morning as plainly as I + see you. He passed the Fountain du Triton in a cab. If I had not been in + such haste to reach Ribalta’s in time to save the Montluc, I could have + stopped him, but we were both in too great a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure that Gorka is in Rome—Boleslas Gorka?” insisted + Dorsenne. + </p> + <p> + “What is there surprising in that?” said Montfanon. “It is quite natural + that he should not wish to remain away long from a city where he has left + a wife and a mistress. I suppose your Slav and your Anglo-Saxon have no + prejudices, and that they share their Venetian with a dilettanteism quite + modern. It is cosmopolitan, indeed.... Well, once more, adieu.... Deliver + my message to him if you see him, and,” his face again expressed a + childish malice, “do not fail to tell Mademoiselle Hafner that her + father’s daughter will never, never have this volume. It is not for + intriguers!” And, laughing like a mischievous schoolboy, he pressed the + book more tightly under his arm, repeating: “She shall not have it. + Listen.... And tell her plainly. She shall not have it!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE BEGINNING OF A DRAMA + </h2> + <p> + “There is an intelligent man, who never questions his ideas,” said + Dorsenne to himself, when the Marquis had left him. “He is like the + Socialists. What vigor of mind in that old wornout machine!” And for a + brief moment he watched, with a glance in which there was at least as much + admiration as pity, the Marquis, who was disappearing down the Rue de la + Propagande, and who walked at the rapid pace characteristic of + monomaniacs. They follow their thoughts instead of heeding objects. + However, the care he exercised in avoiding the sun’s line for the shade + attested the instincts of an old Roman, who knew the danger of the first + rays of spring beneath that blue sky. For a moment Montfanon paused to + give alms to one of the numerous mendicants who abound in the neighborhood + of the Place d’Espagne, meritorious in him, for with his one arm and + burdened with the prayer-book it required a veritable effort to search in + his pocket. Dorsenne was well enough acquainted with that original + personage to know that he had never been able to say “no” to any one who + asked charity, great or small, of him. Thanks to that system, the enemy of + beautiful Fanny Hafner was always short of cash with forty thousand + francs’ income and leading a simple existence. The costly purchase of the + relic of Montluc proved that the antipathy conceived for Baron Justus’s + charming daughter had become a species of passion. Under any other + circumstances, the novelist, who delighted in such cases, would not have + failed to meditate ironically on that feeling, easy enough of explanation. + There was much more irrational instinct in it than Montfanon himself + suspected. The old leaguer would not have been logical if he had not had + in point of race an inquisition partiality, and the mere suspicion of + Jewish origin should have prejudiced him against Fanny. But he was just, + as Dorsenne had told him, and if the young girl had been an avowed Jewess, + living up zealously to her religion, he would have respected but have + avoided her, and he never would have spoken of her with such bitterness. + </p> + <p> + The true motive of his antipathy was that he loved Cardinal Guerillot, as + was his habit in all things, with passion and with jealousy, and he could + not forgive Mademoiselle Hafner for having formed an intimacy with the + holy prelate in spite of him, Montfanon, who had vainly warned the old + Bishop de Clermont against her whom he considered the most wily of + intriguers. For months vainly did she furnish proofs of her sincerity of + heart, the Cardinal reporting them in due season to the Marquis, who + persisted in discrediting them, and each fresh good deed of his enemy + augmented his hatred by aggravating the uneasiness which was caused him, + notwithstanding all, by a vague sense of his iniquity. + </p> + <p> + But Dorsenne no sooner turned toward the direction of the Palais Castagna + than he quickly forgot both Mademoiselle Hafner’s and Montfanon’s + prejudices, in thinking only of one sentence uttered by the latter that + which related to the return of Boleslas Gorka. The news was unexpected, + and it awakened in the writer such grave fears that he did not even glance + at the shop-window of the French bookseller at the corner of the Corso to + see if the label of the “Fortieth thousand” flamed upon the yellow cover + of his last book, the Eclogue Mondaine, brought out in the autumn, with a + success which his absence of six months from Paris, had, however, + detracted from. He did not even think of ascertaining if the regimen he + practised, in imitation of Lord Byron, against embonpoint, would preserve + his elegant form, of which he was so proud, and yet mirrors were numerous + on the way from the Place d’Espagne to the Palais Castagna, which rears + its sombre mass on the margin of the Tiber, at the extremity of the Via + Giulia, like a pendant of the Palais Sacchetti, the masterwork of + Sangallo. Dorsenne did not indulge in his usual pastime of examining the + souvenirs along the streets which met his eye, and yet he passed in the + twenty minutes which it took him to reach his rendezvous a number of + buildings teeming with centuries of historical reminiscences. There was + first of all the vast Palais Borghese—the piano of the Borghese, as + it has been called, from the form of a clavecin adopted by the architect—a + monument of splendor, which was, less than two years later, to serve as + the scene of a situation more melancholy than that of the Palais Castagna. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne had not an absent glance for the sumptuous building—he + passed unheeding the facade of St.-Louis, the object of Montfanon’s + admiration. If the writer did not profess for that relic of ancient France + the piety of the Marquis, he never failed to enter there to pay his + literary respects to the tomb of Madame de Beaumont, to that ‘quia non + sunt’ of an epitaph which Chateaubriand inscribed upon her tombstone, with + more vanity, alas, than tenderness. For the first time Dorsenne forgot it; + he forgot also to gaze with delight upon the rococo fountain on the Place + Navonne, that square upon which Domitian had his circus, and which recalls + the cruel pageantries of imperial Rome. He forgot, too, the mutilated + statue which forms the angle of the Palais Braschi, two paces farther—two + paces still farther, the grand artery of the Corso Victor-Emmanuel + demonstrated the effort at regeneration of present Rome; two paces farther + yet, the Palais Farnese recalls the grandeur of modern art, and the + tragedy of contemporary monarchies. Does not the thought of Michelangelo + seem to be still imprinted on the sombre cross-beam of that immense + sarcophagus, which was the refuge of the last King of Naples? But it + requires a mind entirely free to give one’s self up to the charm of + historical dilettanteism which cities built upon the past conjure up, and + although Julien prided himself, not without reason, on being above + emotion, he was not possessed of his usual independence of mind during the + walk which took him to his “human mosaic,” as he picturesquely expressed + it, and he pondered and repondered the following questions: + </p> + <p> + “Boleslas Gorka returned? And two days ago I saw his wife, who did not + expect him until next month. Montfanon is not, however, imaginative. + Boleslas Gorka returned? At the moment when Madame Steno is mad over + Maitland—for she is mad! The night before last, at her house at + dinner, she looked at him—it was scandalous. Gorka had a + presentiment of it this winter. When the American attempted to take Alba’s + portrait the first time, the Pole put a stop to it. It was fine for + Montfanon to talk of division between these two men. When Boleslas left + here, Maitland and the Countess were barely acquainted and now——If + he has returned it is because he has discovered that he has a rival. Some + one has warned him—an enemy of the Countess, a confrere of Maitland. + Such pieces of infamy occur among good friends. If Gorka, who is a shot + like Casal, kills Maitland in a duel, it will make one deceiver less. If + he avenges himself upon his mistress for that treason, it would be a + matter of indifference to me, for Catherine Steno is a great rogue.... But + my little friend, my poor, charming Alba, what would become of her if + there should be a scandal, bloodshed, perhaps, on account of her mother’s + folly? Gorka returned? And he did not write it to me, to me who have + received several letters from him since he went away; to me, whom he + selected last autumn as the confidant of his jealousies, under the pretext + that I knew women, and, with the vain hope of inspiring me.... His silence + and return no longer seem like a romance; they savor rather of a drama, + and with a Slav, as much a Slav as he is, one may expect anything. I know + not what to think of it, for he will be at the Palais Castagna. Poor, + charming Alba!” + </p> + <p> + The monologue did not differ much from a monologue uttered under similar + circumstances by any young man interested in a young girl whose mother + does not conduct herself becomingly. It was a touching situation, but a + very common one, and there was no necessity for the author to come to Rome + to study it, one entire winter and spring. If that interest went beyond a + study, Dorsenne possessed a very simple means of preventing his little + friend, as he said, from being rendered unhappy by the conduct of that + mother whom age did not conquer. Why not propose for her hand? He had + inherited a fortune, and his success as an author had augmented it. For, + since the first book which had established his reputation, the ‘Etudes de + Femmes,’ published in 1879, not a single one of the fifteen novels or + selections from novels had remained unnoticed. His personal celebrity + could, strictly speaking, combine with it family celebrity, for he boasted + that his grandfather was a cousin of that brave General Dorsenne whom + Napoleon could only replace at the head of his guard by Friant. All can be + told in a word. Although the heirs of the hero of the Empire had never + recognized the relationship, Julien believed in it, and when he said, in + reply to compliments on his books, “At my age my grand-uncle, the Colonel + of the Guard, did greater things,” he was sincere in his belief. But it + was unnecessary to mention it, for, situated as he was, Countess Steno + would gladly have accepted him as a son-in-law. As for gaining the love of + the young girl, with his handsome face, intelligent and refined, and his + elegant form, which he had retained intact in spite of his thirty-seven + years, he might have done so. Nothing, however, was farther from his + thoughts than such a project, for, as he ascended the steps of the + staircase of the palace formerly occupied by Urban VII, he continued, in + very different terms, his monologue, a species of involuntary “copy” which + is written instinctively in the brain of the man of letters when he is + particularly fond of literature. + </p> + <p> + At times it assumes a written form, and it is the most marked of + professional distortions, the most unintelligible to the illiterate, who + think waveringly and who do not, happily for them, suffer the continual + servitude to precision of word and to too conscientious thought. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; poor, charming Alba!” he repeated to himself. “How unfortunate that + the marriage with Countess Gorka’s brother could not have been arranged + four months ago. Connection with the family of her mother’s lover would be + tolerably immoral! But she would at least have had less chance of ever + knowing it; and the convenient combination by which the mother has caused + her to form a friendship with that wife in order the better to blind the + two, would have bordered a little more on propriety. To-day Alba would be + Lady Ardrahan, leading a prosaic English life, instead of being united to + some imbecile whom they will find for her here or elsewhere. She will then + deceive him as her mother deceived the late Steno—with me, perhaps, + in remembrance of our pure intimacy of to-day. That would be too sad! Do + not let us think of it! It is the future, of the existence of which we are + ignorant, while we do know that the present exists and that it has all + rights. I owe to the Contessina my best impressions of Rome, to the vision + of her loveliness in this scene of so grand a past. And this is a + sensation which is enjoyable; to visit the Palais Castagna with the + adorable creature upon whom rests the menace of a drama. To enjoy the + Countess Steno’s kindness, otherwise the house would not have that tone + and I would never have obtained the little one’s friendship. To rejoice + that Ardea is a fool, that he has lost his fortune on the Bourse, and that + the syndicate of his creditors, presided over by Monsieur Ancona, has laid + hands upon his palace. For, otherwise, I should not have ascended the + steps of this papal staircase, nor have seen this debris of Grecian + sarcophagi fitted into the walls, and this garden of so intense a green. + As for Gorka, he may have returned for thirty-six other reasons than + jealousy, and Montfanon is right: Caterina is cunning enough to inveigle + both the painter and him. She will make Maitland believe that she received + Gorka for the sake of Madame Gorka, and to prevent him from ruining that + excellent woman at gaming. She will tell Boleslas that there was nothing + more between her and Maitland than Platonic discussions on the merits of + Raphael and Perugino.... And I should be more of a dupe than the other two + for missing the visit. It is not every day that one has a chance to see + auctioned, like a simple Bohemian, the grand-nephew of a pope.” + </p> + <p> + The second suite of reflections resembled more than the first the real + Dorsenne, who was often incomprehensible even to his best friends. The + young man with the large, black eyes, the face with delicate features, the + olive complexion of a Spanish monk, had never had but one passion, too + exceptional not to baffle the ordinary observer, and developed in a sense + so singular that to the most charitable it assumed either an attitude + almost outrageous or else that of an abominable egotism and profound + corruption. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne had spoken truly, he loved to comprehend—to comprehend as + the gamester loves to game, the miser to accumulate money, the ambitious + to obtain position—there was within him that appetite, that taste, + that mania for ideas which makes the scholar and the philosopher. But a + philosopher united by a caprice of nature to an artist, and by that of + fortune and of education to a worldly man and a traveller. The abstract + speculations of the metaphysician would not have sufficed for him, nor + would the continuous and simple creation of the narrator who narrates to + amuse himself, nor would the ardor of the semi-animal of the + man-of-pleasure who abandons himself to the frenzy of vice. He invented + for himself, partly from instinct, partly from method, a compromise + between his contradictory tendencies, which he formulated in a fashion + slightly pedantic, when he said that his sole aim was to “intellectualize + the forcible sensations;” in clearer terms, he dreamed of meeting with, in + human life, the greatest number of impressions it could give and to think + of them after having met them. + </p> + <p> + He thought, with or without reason, to discover in his two favorite + writers, Goethe and Stendhal, a constant application of a similar + principle. His studies had, for the past fourteen years when he had begun + to live and to write, passed through the most varied spheres possible to + him. But he had passed through them, lending his presence without giving + himself to them, with this idea always present in his mind: that he + existed to become familiar with other customs, to watch other characters, + to clothe other personages and the sensations which vibrated within them. + The period of his revival was marked by the achievement of each one of his + books which he composed then, persuaded that, once written and construed, + a sentimental or social experience was not worth the trouble of being + dwelt upon. Thus is explained the incoherence of custom and the + atmospheric contact, if one may so express it, which are the + characteristics of his work. Take, for example, his first collection of + novels, the ‘Etudes de Femmes,’ which made him famous. They are about a + sentimental woman who loved unwisely, and who spent hours from excess of + the romantic studying the avowed or disguised demi-monde. By the side of + that, ‘Sans Dieu,’ the story of a drama of scientific consciousness, + attests a continuous frequenting of the Museum, the Sorbonne and the + College of France, while ‘Monsieur de Premier’ presents one of the most + striking pictures of the contemporary political world, which could only + have been traced by a familiar of the Palais Bourbon. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, the three books of travel pretentiously named + ‘Tourisime,’ ‘Les Profils d’Etrangeres’ and the ‘Eclogue Mondaine,’ which + fluctuated between Florence and London, St.-Moritz and Bayreuth, revealed + long sojourns out of France; a clever analysis of the Italian, English, + and German worlds; a superficial but true knowledge of the languages, the + history and literature, which in no way accords with ‘l’odor di femina’, + exhale from every page. These contrasts are brought out by a mind endowed + with strangely complex qualities, dominated by a firm will and, it must be + said, a very mediocre sensibility. The last point will appear + irreconcilable with the extreme and almost morbid delicacy of certain of + Dorsenne’s works. It is thus however. He had very little heart. But, on + the other hand, he had an abundance of nerves and nerves, and their + irritability suffice for him who desires to paint human passions, above + all, love, with its joys and its sorrows, of which one does not speak to a + certain extent when one experiences them. Success had come to Julien too + early not to have afforded him occasion for several adventures. In each of + the centres traversed in the course of his sentimental vagabondage he + tried to find a woman in whom was embodied all the scattered charms of the + district. He had formed innumerable intimacies. Some had been frankly + affectionate. The majority were Platonic. Others had consisted of the + simple coquetry of friendship, as was the case with Mademoiselle Steno. + The young man had never employed more vanity than enthusiasm. Every woman, + mistress or friend, had been to him, nine times out of ten, a curiosity, + then a model. But, as he held that the model could not be recognized by + any exterior sign, he did not think that he was wrong in making use of his + prestige as a writer, for what he called his “culture.” He was capable of + justice, the defense which he made of Fanny Hafner to Montfanon proved it; + of admiration, his respect for the noble qualities of that same Montfanon + testify to it; of compassion, for without it he would not have apprehended + at once with so much sympathy the result which the return of Count Gorka + would have on the destiny of innocent Alba Steno. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the staircase of the Palais Castagna, instead of hastening, as + was natural, to find out at least what meant the return to Rome of the + lover whom Madame Steno deceived, he collected his startled sensibilities + before meeting Alba, and, pausing, he scribbled in a note-book which he + drew from his pocket, with a pencil always within reach of his fingers, in + a firm hand, precise and clear, this note savoring somewhat of + sentimentalism: + </p> + <p> + “25 April, ‘90. Palais Castagna.—Marvellous staircase constructed by + Balthazar Peruzzi; so broad and long, with double rows of stairs, like + those of Santa Colomba, near Siena. Enjoyed above all the sight of an + interior garden so arranged, so designed that the red flowers, the + regularity of the green shrubs, the neat lines of the graveled walks + resemble the features of a face. The idea of the Latin garden, opposed to + the Germanic or Anglo-Saxon, the latter respecting the irregularity of + nature, the other all in order, humanizing and administering even to the + flower-garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Subject the complexity of life to a thought harmonious and clear, a + constant mark of the Latin genus, for a group of trees as well as an + entire nation, an entire religion—Catholicism. It is the contrary in + the races of the North. Significance of the word: the forests have taught + man liberty.” + </p> + <p> + He had hardly finished writing that oddly interpreted memorandum, and was + closing his note-book, when the sound of a familiar voice caused him to + turn suddenly. He had not heard ascend the stairs a personage who waited + until he finished writing, and who was no other than one of the actors in + his “troupe” to use his expression, one of the persons of the party of + that morning organized the day before at Madame Steno’s, and just the one + whom the intolerable marquis had defamed with so much ardor, the father of + beautiful Fanny Hafner, Baron Justus himself. The renowned founder of the + ‘Credit Austro-Dalmate’ was a small, thin man, with blue eyes of an + acuteness almost insupportable, in a face of neutral color. His + ever-courteous manner, his attire, simple and neat, his speech serious and + discreet, gave to him that species of distinction so common to old + diplomatists. But the dangerous adventurer was betrayed by the glance + which Hafner could not succeed in veiling with indifferent amiability. The + man-of-the-world, which he prided himself upon having become, was visible + through all by certain indefinable trifles, and above all by those eyes, + of a restlessness so singular in so wealthy a man, indicating an + enigmatical and obscure past of dark and contrasting struggles, of + covetous sharpness, of cold calculation and indomitable energy. Fanatical + Montfanon, who abused the daughter with such unjustness, judged the father + justly. The son of a Jew of Berlin and of a Dutch Protestant, Justus + Hafner was inscribed on the civil state registers as belonging to his + mother’s faith. But the latter died when Justus was very young, and he was + not reared in any other liturgy than that of money. From his father, a + persevering and skilful jeweller, but too prudent to risk or gain much, he + learned the business of precious stones, to which he added that of laces, + paintings, old materials, tapestries, rare furniture. + </p> + <p> + An infallible eye, the patience of a German united with his Israelitish + and Dutch extraction, soon amassed for him a small capital, which his + father’s bequest augmented. At twenty-seven Justus had not less than five + hundred thousand marks. Two imprudent operations on the Bourse, + enterprises to force fortune and to obtain the first million, ruined the + too-audacious courtier, who began again the building up of his fortune by + becoming a diamond broker. + </p> + <p> + He went to Paris, and there, in a wretched little room on the Rue + Montmartre, in three years, he made his second capital. He then managed it + so well that in 1870, at the time of the war, he had made good his losses. + The armistice found him in England, where he had married the daughter of a + Viennese agent, in London, for the purpose of starting a vast enterprise + of revictualing the belligerent armies. The enormous profits made by the + father-in-law and the son-in-law during that year determined them to found + a banking-house which should have its principal seat in Vienna and a + branch in Berlin. Justus Hafner, a passionate admirer of Herr von + Bismarck, controlled, besides, a newspaper. He tried to gain the favor of + the great statesman, who refused to aid the former diamond merchant in + gratifying political ambitions cherished from an early age. + </p> + <p> + It was a bitter disappointment to the persevering man, who, having tried + his luck in Prussia, emigrated definitively to Vienna. The establishment + of the ‘Credit Austro-Dalmate,’ launched with extraordinary claims, + permitted him at length to realize at least one of his chimeras. His + wealth, while not equaling that of the mighty financiers of the epoch, + increased with a rapidity almost magical to a cipher high enough to permit + him, from 1879, to indulge in the luxurious life which can not be led by + any one with an income short of five hundred thousand francs. Contrary to + the custom of speculators of his genus, Hafner in time invested his + earnings safely. He provided against the coming demolition of the + structure so laboriously built up. The ‘Credit Austro-Dalmate’ had + suffered in great measure owing to innumerable public and private + disasters and scandals, such as the suicide and murder in the Schroeder + family. + </p> + <p> + Suits were begun against a number of the founders, among them Justus + Hafner. He was acquitted, but with such damage to his financial integrity + and in the face of such public indignation that he abandoned Austria for + Italy and Vienna for Rome. There, heedless of first rebuffs, he undertook + to realize the third great object of his life, the gaining of social + position. To the period of avidity had succeeded, as it frequently does + with those formidable handlers of money, the period of vanity. Being now a + widower, he aimed at his daughter’s marriage with a strength of will and a + complication of combinations equal to his former efforts, and that + struggle for connection with high life was disguised beneath the cloak of + the most systematically adopted politeness of deportment. How had he found + the means, in the midst of struggles and hardships, to refine himself so + that the primitive broker and speculator were almost unrecognizable in the + baron of fifty-four, decorated with several orders, installed in a + magnificent palace, the father of a charming daughter, and himself an + agreeable conversationalist, a courteous gentleman, an ardent sportsman? + It is the secret of those natures created for social conquest, like a + Napoleon for war and a Talleyrand for diplomacy. Dorsenne asked himself + the question frequently, and he could not solve it. Although he boasted of + watching the Baron with an intellectual curiosity, he could not restrain a + shudder of antipathy each time he met the eyes of the man. + </p> + <p> + And on this particular morning it was especially disagreeable to him that + those eyes had seen him making his unoffending notes, although there was + scarcely a shade of gentle condescension—that of a great lord who + patronizes a great artist—in the manner in which Hafner addressed + him. + </p> + <p> + “Do not inconvenience yourself for me, dear sir,” said he to Dorsenne. + “You work from nature, and you are right. I see that your next novel will + touch upon the ruin of our poor Prince d’Ardea. Do not be too hard on him, + nor on us.” + </p> + <p> + The artist could not help coloring at that benign pleasantry. It was all + the more painful to him because it was at once true and untrue. How should + he explain the sort of literary alchemy, thanks to which he was enabled to + affirm that he never drew portraits, although not a line of his fifteen + volumes was traced without a living model? He replied, therefore, with a + touch of ill-humor: + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, my dear Baron. I do not make notes on persons.” + </p> + <p> + “All authors say that,” answered the Baron, shrugging his shoulders with + the assumed good-nature which so rarely forsook him, “and they are + right.... At any rate, it is fortunate that you had something to write, + for we shall both be late in arriving at a rendezvous where there are + ladies.... It is almost a quarter past eleven, and we should have been + there at eleven precisely.... But I have one excuse, I waited for my + daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “And she has not come?” asked Dorsenne. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Hafner, “at the last moment she could not make up her mind. + She had a slight annoyance this morning—I do not know what old book + she had set her heart on. Some rascal found out that she wanted it, and he + obtained it first.... But that is not the true cause of her absence. The + true cause is that she is too sensitive, and she finds it so sad that + there should be a sale of the possessions of this ancient family.... I did + not insist. What would she have experienced had she known the late + Princess Nicoletta, Pepino’s mother? When I came to Rome on a visit for + the first time, in ‘75, what a salon that was and what a Princess!... She + was a Condolmieri, of the family of Eugene IV.” + </p> + <p> + “How absurd vanity renders the most refined man,” thought Julien, suiting + his pace to the Baron’s. “He would have me believe that he was received at + the house of that woman who was politically the blackest of the black, the + most difficult to please in the recruiting of her salon.... Life is more + complex than the Montfanons even know of! This girl feels by instinct that + which the chouan of a marquis feels by doctrine, the absurdity of this + striving after nobility, with a father who forgets the broker and who + talks of the popes of the Middle Ages as of a trinket!... While we are + alone, I must ask this old fox what he knows of Boleslas Gorka’s return. + He is the confidant of Madame Steno. He should be informed of the doings + and whereabouts of the Pole.” + </p> + <p> + The friendship of Baron Hafner for the Countess, whose financial adviser + he was, should have been for Dorsenne a reason for avoiding such a + subject, the more so as he was convinced of the man’s dislike for him. The + Baron could, by a single word perfidiously repeated, injure him very much + with Alba’s mother. But the novelist, similar on that point to the + majority of professional observers, had only the power of analysis of a + retrospective order. Never had his keen intelligence served him to avoid + one of those slight errors of conversation which are important mistakes on + the pitiful checker-board of life. Happily for him, he cherished no + ambition except for his pleasure and his art, without which he would have + found the means of making for himself, gratuitously, enough enemies to + clear all the academies. + </p> + <p> + He, therefore, chose the moment when the Baron arrived at the landing on + the first floor, pausing somewhat out of breath, and after the agent had + verified their passes, to say to his companion: + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Gorka since his arrival?” + </p> + <p> + “What? Is Boleslas here?” asked Justus Hafner, who manifested his + astonishment in no other manner than by adding: “I thought he was still in + Poland.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen him myself,” said Dorsenne. He already regretted having + spoken too hastily. It is always more prudent not to spread the first + report. But the ignorance of that return of Countess Steno’s best friend, + who saw her daily, struck the young man with such surprise that he could + not resist adding: “Some one, whose veracity I can not doubt, met him this + morning.” Then, brusquely: “Does not this sudden return make you fearful?” + </p> + <p> + “Fearful?” repeated the Baron. “Why so?” As he uttered those words he + glanced at the writer with his usual impassive expression, which, however, + a very slight sign, significant to those who knew him, belied. In + exchanging those few words the two men had passed into the first room of + “objects of art,” having belonged to the apartment of “His Eminence Prince + d’Ardea,” as the catalogue said, and the Baron did not raise the gold + glass which he held at the end of his nose when near the smallest display + of bric-a-brac, as was his custom. As he walked slowly through the + collection of busts and statues of that first room, called “Marbles” on + the catalogue, without glancing with the eye of a practised judge at the + Gobelin tapestry upon the walls, it must have been that he considered as + very grave the novelist’s revelation. The latter had said too much not to + continue: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I who have not been connected with Madame Steno for years, like + you, trembled for her when that return was announced to me. She does not + know what Gorka is when he is jealous, or of what he is capable.” + </p> + <p> + “Jealous? Of whom?” interrupted Hafner. “It is not the first time I have + heard the name of Boleslas uttered in connection with the Countess. I + confess I have never taken those words seriously, and I should not have + thought that you, a frequenter of her salon, one of her friends, would + hesitate on that subject. Rest assured, Gorka is in love with his charming + wife, and he could not make a better choice. Countess Caterina is an + excellent person, very Italian. She is interested in him, as in you, as in + Maitland, as in me; in you because you write such admirable books, in + Maitland because he paints like our best masters, in Boleslas on account + of the sorrow he had in the death of his first child, in me because I have + so delicate a charge. She is more than an excellent person, she is a truly + superior woman, very superior.” He uttered his hypocritical speech with + such perfect ease that Dorsenne was surprised and irritated. That Hafner + did not believe one treacherous word of what he said the novelist was + sure, he who, from the indiscreet confidences of Gorka, knew what to think + of the Venetian’s manner, and he; too, understood the Baron’s glance! At + any other time he would have admired the policy of the old stager. At that + moment the novelist was vexed by it, for it caused him to play a role, + very common but not very elevating, that of a calumniator, who has spoken + ill of a woman with whom he dined the day before. He, therefore, quickened + his pace as much as politeness would permit, in order not to remain + tete-a-tete with the Baron, and also to rejoin the persons of their party + already arrived. + </p> + <p> + They emerged from the first room to enter a second, marked “Porcelain;” + then a third, “Frescoes of Perino del Vaga,” on account of the ceiling + upon which the master painted a companion to his vigorous piece at Genoa—“Jupiter + crushing the Giants”—and, lastly, into a fourth, called “The + Arazzi,” from the wonderful panels with which it was decorated. + </p> + <p> + A few visitors were lounging there, for the season was somewhat advanced, + and the date which M. Ancona had chosen for the execution proved either + the calculation of profound hatred or else the adroit ruse of a syndicate + of retailers. All the magnificent objects in the palace were adjudged at + half the value they would have brought a few months sooner or later. The + small group of curios stood out in contrast to the profusion of furniture, + materials, objects of art of all kinds, which filled the vast rooms. It + was the residence of five hundred years of power and of luxury, where + masterpieces, worthy of the great Medicis, and executed in their time, + alternated with the gewgaws of the eighteenth century and bronzes of the + First Empire, with silver trinkets ordered but yesterday in London. Baron + Justus could not resist these. He raised his glass and called Dorsenne to + show him a curious armchair, the carving of a cartel, the embroidery on + some material. One glance sufficed for him to judge.... If the novelist + had been capable of observing, he would have perceived in the detailed + knowledge the banker had of the catalogue the trace of a study too deep + not to accord with some mysterious project. + </p> + <p> + “There are treasures here,” said he. “See these two Chinese vases with + convex lids, with the orange ground decorated with gilding. Those are + pieces no longer made in China. It is a lost art. And this tete-a-tete + decorated with flowers; and this pluvial cope in this case. What a marvel! + It is as good as the one of Pius Second, which was at Pienza and which has + been stolen. I could have bought it at one time for fifteen hundred + francs. It is worth fifteen thousand, twenty thousand, all of that. Here + is some faience. It was brought from Spain when Cardinal Castagna came + from Madrid, when he took the place of Pius Fifth as sponsor of Infanta + Isabella. Ah, what treasures! But you go like the wind,” he added, “and + perhaps it is better, for I would stop, and Cavalier Fossati, the + auctioneer, to whom those terrible creditors of Peppino have given charge + of the sale, has spies everywhere. You notice an object, you are marked as + a solid man, as they say in Germany. You are noted. I shall be down on his + list. I have been caught by him enough. Ha! He is a very shrewd man! But + come, I see the ladies. We should have remembered that they were here,” + and smiling—but at whom?—at Fossati, at himself or his + companion?—he made the latter read the notice hung on the door of a + transversal room, which bore this inscription: “Salon of marriage-chests.” + </p> + <p> + There were, indeed, ranged along the walls about fifteen of those wooden + cases painted and carved, of those ‘cassoni’ in which it was the fashion, + in grand Italian families, to keep the trousseaux destined for the brides. + Those of the Castagnas proved, by their escutcheons, what alliances the + last of the grand-nephews of Urban VII, the actual Prince d’Ardea, entered + into. Three very elegant ladies were examining the chests; in them + Dorsenne recognized at once fair and delicate Alba Steno, Madame Gorka, + with her tall form, her fair hair, too, and her strong English profile, + and pretty Madame Maitland, with her olive complexion, who did not seem to + have inherited any more negro blood than just enough to tint her delicate + face. Florent Chapron, the painter’s brother-in-law, was the only man with + those three ladies. Countess Steno and Lincoln Maitland were not there, + and one could hear the musical voice of Alba spelling the heraldry carved + on the coffers, formerly opened with tender curiosity by young girls, + laughing and dreaming by turns like her. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Maud,” said she to Madame Gorka, “there is the oak of the Della + Rovere, and there the stars of the Altieri.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have found the column of the Colonna,” replied Maud Gorka. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Lydia?” said Mademoiselle Steno to Madame Maitland. + </p> + <p> + “And I, the bees of the Barberini.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, the lilies of the Farnese,” said in his turn Florent Chapron, who, + having raised his head first, perceived the newcomers. He greeted them + with a pleasant smile, which was reflected in his eyes and which showed + his white teeth. “We no longer expected you, sirs. Every one has + disappointed us. Lincoln did not wish to leave his atelier. It seems that + Mademoiselle Hafner excused herself yesterday to these ladies. Countess + Steno has a headache. We did not even count on the Baron, who is usually + promptness personified.” + </p> + <p> + “I was sure Dorsenne would not fail us,” said Alba, gazing at the young + man with her large eyes, of a blue as clear as those of Madame Gorka were + dark. “Only that I expected we should meet him on the staircase as we were + leaving, and that he would say to us, in surprise: ‘What, I am not on + time?’ Ah,” she continued, “do not excuse yourself, but reply to the + examination in Roman history we are about to put you through. We have to + follow here a veritable course studying all these old chests. What are the + arms of this family?” she asked, leaning with Dorsenne over one of the + cassoni. “You do not know? The Carafa, famous man! And what Pope did they + have? You do not know that either? Paul Fourth, sir novelist. If ever you + visit us in Venice, you will be surprised at the Doges.” + </p> + <p> + She employed so affectionate a grace in that speech, and she was so + apparently in one of her moods—so rare, alas! of childish + joyousness, that Dorsenne, preoccupied as he was, felt his heart contract + on her account. The simultaneous absence of Madame Steno and Lincoln + Maitland could only be fortuitous. But persuaded that the Countess loved + Maitland, and not doubting that she was his mistress, the absence of both + appeared singularly suspicious to him. Such a thought sufficed to render + the young girl’s innocent gayety painful to him. That gayety would become + tragical if it were true that the Countess’s other lover had returned + unexpectedly, warned by some one. Dorsenne experienced genuine agitation + on asking Madame Gorka: + </p> + <p> + “How is Boleslas?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I suppose,” said his wife. “I have not had a letter to-day. + Does not one of your proverbs say, ‘No news is good news?’” + </p> + <p> + Baron Hafner was beside Maud Gorka when she uttered that sentence. + Involuntarily Dorsenne looked at him, and involuntarily, master as he was + of himself, he looked at Dorsenne. It was no longer a question of a simple + hypothesis. That Boleslas Gorka had returned to Rome unknown to his wife + constituted, for any one who knew of his relations with Madame Steno, and + of the infidelity of the latter, an event full of formidable consequences. + Both men were possessed by the same thought. Was there still time to + prevent a catastrophe? But each of them in this circumstance, as is so + often the case in important matters of life, was to show the deepness of + his character. Not a muscle of Hafner’s face quivered. It was a question, + perhaps, of rendering a service to a woman in danger, whom he loved with + all the feeling of which he was capable. That woman was the mainspring of + his social position in Rome. She was still more. A plan for Fanny’s + marriage, as yet secret, but on the point of being consummated, depended + upon Madame Steno. But he felt it impossible to attempt to render her any + service before having spent half an hour in the rooms of the Palais + Castagna, and he began to employ that half hour in a manner which would be + most profitable to his possible purchases, for he turned to Madame Gorka + and said to her, with the rather exaggerated politeness habitual to him: + </p> + <p> + “Countess, if you will permit me to advise you, do not pause so long + before these coffers, interesting as they may be. First, as I have just + told Dorsenne, Cavalier Fossati, the agent, has his spies everywhere here. + Your position has already been remarked, you may be sure, so that if you + take a fancy for one, he will know it in advance, and he will manage to + make you pay double, triple, and more for it. And then we have to see so + much, notably a cartoon of twelve designs by old masters, which Ardea did + not even suspect he had, and which Fossati discovered—would you + believe?—worm-eaten, in a cupboard in one of the granaries.” + </p> + <p> + “There is some one whom your collection would interest,” said Florent, “my + brother-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Madame Gorka to Hafner with her habitual good-nature, + “there are at least two of these coffers that I like and wish to have. I + said it in so loud a tone that it is not worth the trouble of hoping that + your Cavalier Fossati does not know it, if he really has that mode of + espionage in practice. But forty or fifty pounds more make no difference—nor + forty thousand even.” + </p> + <p> + “Baron Hafner will warn you that your tone is not low enough,” laughed + Alba Steno, “and he will add his great phrase: ‘You will never be + diplomatic.’ But,” added the girl, turning toward Dorsenne, having drawn + back from silent Lydia Maitland, and arranging to fall behind with the + young man, “I am about to employ a little diplomacy in order to find out + whether you have any trouble.” And here her mobile face changed its + expression, looking into Julien’s with genuine anxiety. “Yes,” said she, + “I have never seen you so preoccupied as you seem to be this morning. Do + you not feel well? Have you received ill news from Paris? What ails you?” + </p> + <p> + “I preoccupied?” replied Dorsenne. “You are mistaken. There is absolutely + nothing, I assure you.” It was impossible to lie with more apparent + awkwardness, and if any one merited the scorn of Baron Hafner, it was he. + Hardly had Madame Gorka spoken, when he had, with the rapidity of men of + vivid imagination, seen Countess Steno and Maitland surprised by Gorka, at + that very moment, in some place of rendezvous, and that surprise followed + by a challenge, perhaps an immediate murder. And, as Alba continued to + laugh merrily, his presentiment of her sad fate became so vivid that his + face actually clouded over. He felt impelled to ascertain, when she + questioned him, how great a friendship she bore him. But his effort to + hide his emotion rendered his voice so harsh that the young girl resumed: + </p> + <p> + “I have vexed you by my questioning?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the least in the world,” he replied, without being able to find a + word of friendship. He felt at that moment incapable of talking, as they + usually did, in that tone of familiarity, partly mocking, partly + sentimental, and he added: “I simply think this exposition somewhat + melancholy, that is all.” And, with a smile, “But we shall lose the + opportunity of having it shown us by our incomparable cicerone,” and he + obliged her, by quickening her pace, to rejoin the group piloted by Hafner + through the magnificence of the almost deserted apartment. + </p> + <p> + “See,” said the former broker of Berlin and of Paris, now an enlightened + amateur—“see, how that charlatan of a Fossati has taken care not to + increase the number of trinkets now that we are in the reception-rooms. + These armchairs seem to await invited guests. They are known. They have + been illustrated in a magazine of decorative art in Paris. And that + dining-room through that door, with all the silver on the table, would you + not think a fete had been prepared?” + </p> + <p> + “Baron,” said Madame Gorka, “look at this material; it is of the + eighteenth century, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Baron,” asked Madame Maitland, “is this cup with the lid old Vienna or + Capadimonte?” + </p> + <p> + “Baron,” said Florent Chapron, “is this armor of Florentine or Milanese + workmanship?” + </p> + <p> + The eyeglass was raised to the Baron’s thin nose, his small eyes + glittered, his lips were pursed up, and he replied, in words as exact as + if he had studied all the details of the catalogue verbatim. Their thanks + were soon followed by many other questions, in which two voices alone did + not join, that of Alba Steno and that of Dorsenne. Under any other + circumstances, the latter would have tried to dissipate the increasing + sadness of the young girl, who said no more to him after he repulsed her + amicable anxiety. In reality, he attached no great importance to it. Those + transitions from excessive gayety to sudden depression were so habitual + with the Contessina, above all when with him. Although they were the sign + of a vivid sentiment, the young man saw in them only nervous unrest, for + his mind was absorbed with other thoughts. + </p> + <p> + He asked himself if, at any hazard, after the manner in which Madame Gorka + had spoken, it would not be more prudent to acquaint Lincoln Maitland with + the secret return of his rival. Perhaps the drama had not yet taken place, + and if only the two persons threatened were warned, no doubt Hafner would + put Countess Steno upon her guard. But when would he see her? What if he, + Dorsenne, should at once tell Maitland’s brother-in-law of Gorka’s return, + to that Florent Chapron whom he saw at the moment glancing at all the + objects of the princely exposition? The step was an enormous undertaking, + and would have appeared so to any one but Julien, who knew that the + relations between Florent Chapron and Lincoln Maitland were of a very + exceptional nature. Julien knew that Florent—sent when very young to + the Jesuits of Beaumont, in England, by a father anxious to spare him the + humiliation which his blood would call down upon him in America—had + formed a friendship with Lincoln, a pupil in the same school. He knew that + the friendship for the schoolmate had turned to enthusiasm for the artist, + when the talent of his old comrade had begun to reveal itself. He knew + that the marriage, which had placed the fortune of Lydia at the service of + the development of the painter, had been the work of that enthusiasm at an + epoch when Maitland, spoiled by the unwise government of his mother, and + unappreciated by the public, was wrung by despair. The exceptional + character of the marriage would have surprised a man less heeding of moral + peculiarities than was Dorsenne, who had observed, all too frequently, the + silence and reserve of that sister not to look upon her as a sacrifice. He + fancied that admiration for his brother-in-law’s genius had blinded + Florent to such a degree that he was the first cause of the sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “Drama for drama,” said he to himself, as the visit drew near its close, + and after a long debate with himself. “I should prefer to have it one + rather than the other in that family. I should reproach myself all my life + for not having tried every means.” They were in the last room, and Baron + Hafner was just fastening the strings of an album of drawings, when the + conviction took possession of the young man in a definite manner. Alba + Steno, who still maintained silence, looked at him again with eyes which + revealed the struggle of her interest for him and of her wounded pride. + She longed, without doubt, at the moment they were about to separate, to + ask him, according to their intimate and charming custom, when they should + meet again. He did not heed her—any more than he did the other pair + of eyes which told him to be more prudent, and which were those of the + Baron; any more than he did the observation of Madame Gorka, who, having + remarked the ill-humor of Alba, was seeking the cause, which she had long + since divined was the heart of the young girl; any more than the attitude + of Madame Maitland, whose eyes at times shot fire equal to her brother’s + gentleness. He took the latter by the arm, and said to him aloud: + </p> + <p> + “I should like to have your opinion on a small portrait I have noticed in + the other room, my dear Chapron.” Then, when they were before the canvas + which had served as a pretext for the aside, he continued, in a low voice: + “I heard very strange news this morning. Do you know Boleslas Gorka is in + Rome unknown to his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “That is indeed strange,” replied Maitland’s brother-in-law, adding + simply, after a silence: “Are you certain of it?” + </p> + <p> + “As certain as that we are here,” said Dorsenne. “One of my friends, + Marquis de Montfanon, met him this morning.” + </p> + <p> + A fresh silence ensued between the two, during which Julien felt that the + arm upon which he rested trembled. Then they joined the party, while + Florent said aloud: “It is an excellent piece of painting, which has, + unfortunately, been revarnished too much.” + </p> + <p> + “May I have done right!” thought Julien. “He understood me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. BOLESLAS GORKA + </h2> + <p> + Hardly ten minutes had passed since Dorsenne had spoken as he had to + Florent Chapron, and already the imprudent novelist began to wonder + whether it would not have been wiser not to interfere in any way in an + adventure in which his intervention was of the least importance. + </p> + <p> + The apprehension of an immediate drama which had possessed him, for the + first time, after the conversation with Montfanon, for the second time, in + a stronger manner, by proving the ignorance of Madame Gorka on the subject + of the husband’s return—that frightful and irresistible evocation in + a clandestine chamber, suddenly deluged with blood, was banished by the + simplest event. The six visitors exchanged their last impressions on the + melancholy and magnificence of the Castagna apartments, and they ended by + descending the grand staircase with the pillars, through the windows of + which staircase smiled beneath the scorching sun the small garden which + Dorsenne had compared to a face. The young man walked a little in advance, + beside Alba Steno, whom he now tried, but in vain, to cheer. Suddenly, at + the last turn of the broad steps which tempered the decline gradually, her + face brightened with surprise and pleasure. She uttered a slight cry and + said: “There is my mother!” And Julien saw the Madame Steno, whom he had + seen, in an access of almost delirious anxiety, surprised, assassinated by + a betrayed lover. She was standing upon the gray and black mosaic of the + peristyle, dressed in the most charming morning toilette. Her golden hair + was gathered up under a large hat of flowers, over which was a white veil; + her hand toyed with the silver handle of a white parasol, and in the + reflection of that whiteness, with her clear, fair complexion, with her + lovely blue eyes in which sparkled passion and intelligence, with her + faultless teeth which gleamed when she smiled, with her form still slender + notwithstanding the fulness of her bust, she seemed to be a creature so + youthful, so vigorous, so little touched by age that a stranger would + never have taken her to be the mother of the tall young girl who was + already beside her and who said to her— + </p> + <p> + “What imprudence! Ill as you were this morning, to go out in this sun. Why + did you do so?” + </p> + <p> + “To fetch you and to take you home!” replied the Countess gayly. “I was + ashamed of having indulged myself! I rose, and here I am. Good-day, + Dorsenne. I hope you kept your eyes open up there. A story might be + written on the Ardea affair. I will tell it to you. Good-day, Maud. How + kind of you to make lazy Alba exercise a little! She would have quite a + different color if she walked every morning. Goodday, Florent. Good-day, + Lydia. The master is not here? And you, old friend, what have you done + with Fanny?” + </p> + <p> + She distributed these simple “good-days” with a grace so delicate, a smile + so rare for each one—tender for her daughter, spirituelle for the + author, grateful for Madame Gorka, amicably surprised for Chapron and + Madame Maitland, familiar and confiding for her old friend, as she called + the Baron. She was evidently the soul of the small party, for her mere + presence seemed to have caused animation to sparkle in every eye. + </p> + <p> + All talked at once, and she replied, as they walked toward the carriages, + which waited in a court of honor capable of holding seventy gala chariots. + One after the other these carriages advanced. The horses pawed the ground; + the harnesses shone; the footmen and coachmen were dressed in perfect + liveries; the porter of the Palais Castagna, with his long redingote, on + the buttons of which were the symbolical chestnuts of the family, had + beneath his laced hat such a dignified bearing that Julien suddenly found + it absurd to have imagined an impassioned drama in connection with such + people. The last one left, while watching the others depart, he once more + experienced the sensation so common to those who are familiar with the + worst side of the splendor of society and who perceive in them the moral + misery and ironical gayety. + </p> + <p> + “You are becoming a great simpleton, my friend, Dorsenne,” said he, + seating himself more democratically in one of those open cabs called in + Rome a botte. “To fear a tragical adventure for the woman who is mistress + of herself to such a degree is something like casting one’s self into the + water to prevent a shark from drowning. If she had not upon her lips + Maitland’s kisses, and in her eyes the memory of happiness, I am very much + mistaken. She came from a rendezvous. It was written for me, in her + toilette, in the color upon her cheeks, in her tiny shoes, easy to remove, + which had not taken thirty steps. And with what mastery she uttered her + string of falsehoods! Her daughter, Madame Gorka, Madame Maitland, how + quickly she included them all! That is why I do not like the theatre, + where one finds the actress who employs that tone to utter her: ‘Is the + master not here?’” + </p> + <p> + He laughed aloud, then his thoughts, relieved of all anxiety, took a new + course, and, using the word of German origin familiar to Cosmopolitans, to + express an absurd action, he said: “I have made a pretty schlemylade, as + Hafner would say, in relating to Florent Gorka’s unexpected arrival. It + was just the same as telling him that Maitland was the Countess’s lover. + That is a conversation at which I should like to assist, that which will + take place between the two brothers-in-law. Should I be very much + surprised to learn that this unattached negro is the confidant of his + great friend? It is a subject to paint, which has never been well treated; + the passionate friendships of a Tattet for a Musset, of an Eckermann for a + Goethe, of an Asselineau for a Beaudelaire, the total absorption of the + admirer in the admired. Florent found that the genius of the great painter + had need of a fortune, and he gave him his sister. Were he to find that + that genius required a passion in order to develop still more, he would + not object. My word of honor! He glanced at the Countess just now with + gratitude! Why not, after all? Lincoln is a colorist of the highest order, + although his desire to be with the tide has led him into too many + imitations. But it is his race. Young Madame Maitland has as much sense as + the handle of a basket; and Madame Steno is one of those extraordinary + women truly created to exalt the ideals of an artist. Never has he painted + anything as he painted the portrait of Alba. I can hear this dialogue: + </p> + <p> + “‘You know the Pole has returned? What Pole? The Countess’s. What? You + believe those calumnies?’ Ah, what comedies here below! ‘Gad! The cabman + has also committed his ‘schlemylade’. I told him Rue Sistina, near La + Trinite-des-Monts, and here he is going through Place Barberini instead of + cutting across Capo le Case. It is my fault as well. I should not have + heeded it had there been an earthquake. Let us at least admire the Triton + of Bernin. What a sculptor that man was! yet he never thought of nature + except to falsify it.” + </p> + <p> + These incoherent remarks were made with a good-nature decidedly + optimistic, as could be seen, when the fiacre finally drew up at the given + address. It was that of a very modest restaurant decorated with this + signboard: ‘Trattoria al Marzocco.’ And the ‘Marzocco’, the lion + symbolical of Florence, was represented above the door, resting his paw on + the escutcheon ornamented with the national lys. The appearance of that + front did not justify the choice which the elegant Dorsenne had made of + the place at which to dine when he did not dine in society. But his + dilettantism liked nothing better than those sudden leaps from society, + and M. Egiste Brancadori, who kept the Marzocco, was one of those + unconscious buffoons of whom he was continually in search in real life, + one of those whom he called his “Thebans”, in reference to King Lear. + “I’ll talk a word with this same learned Theban,” cried the mad king, one + knows not why, when he meets “poor Tom” on the heath. + </p> + <p> + That Dorsenne’s Parisian friends, the Casals, the Machaults, the De + Vardes, those habitues of the club, might not judge him too severely, he + explained that the Theban born in Florence was a cook of the first order + and that the modest restaurant had its story. It amused so paradoxical an + observer as Julien was. He often said, “Who will ever dare to write the + truth of the history?” This, for example: Pope Pius IX, having asked the + Emperor to send him some troops to protect his dominions, the latter + agreed to do so—an occupation which bore two results: a Corsican + hatred of the half of Italy against France and the founding of the + Marzocco by Egiste Brancadori, says the Theban or the doctor. It was one + of the pleasantries of the novelist to pretend to have cured his dyspepsia + in Italy, thanks to the wise and wholesome cooking of the said Egiste. In + reality, and more simply, Brancadori was the old cook of a Russian lord, + one of the Werekiews, the cousin of pretty Alba Steno’s real father. That + Werekiew, renowned in Rome for the daintiness of his dinners, died + suddenly in 1866. Several of the frequenters of his house, advised by a + French officer of the army of occupation, and tired of clubs, hotels, and + ordinary restaurants, determined to form a syndicate and to employ his + former cook. They, with his cooperation, established a sort of superior + cafe, to which with some pride they gave the name of the Culinary Club. By + assuring to each one a minimum of sixteen meals for seven francs, they + kept for four years an excellent table, at which were to be found all the + distinguished tourists in Rome. The year 1870 had disbanded that little + society of connoisseurs and of conversationalists, and the club was + metamorphosed into a restaurant, almost unknown, except to a few artists + or diplomats who were attracted by the ancient splendors of the place, + and, above all, by the knowledge of the “doctor’s” talents. + </p> + <p> + It was not unusual at eight o’clock for the three small rooms which + composed the establishment to be full of men in white cravats, white + waistcoats and evening coats. To cosmopolitan Dorsenne this was a + singularly interesting sight; a member of the English embassy here, of the + Russian embassy farther on, two German attaches elsewhere, two French + secretaries near at hand from St. Siege, another from the Quirinal. What + interested the novelist still more was the conversation of the doctor + himself, genial Brancadori, who could neither read nor write. But he had + preserved a faithful remembrance of all his old customers, and when he + felt confidential, standing erect upon the threshold of his kitchen, of + the possession of which he was so insolently proud, he repeated curious + stories of Rome in the days of his youth. His gestures, so conformable to + the appearance of things, his mobile face and his Tuscan tongue, which + softened into h all the harsh e’s between two vowels, gave a savor to his + stories which delighted a seeker after local truths. It was in the morning + especially, when there was no one in the restaurant, that he voluntarily + left his ovens to chat, and if Dorsenne gave the address of the Marzocco + to his cabman, it was in the hope that the old cook would in his manner + sketch for him the story of the ruin of Ardea. Brancadori was standing by + the bar where was enthroned his niece, Signorina Sabatina, with a charming + Florentine face, chin a trifle long, forehead somewhat broad, nose + somewhat short, a sinuous mouth, large, black eyes, an olive complexion + and waving hair, which recalled in a forcible manner the favorite type of + the first of the Ghirlandajos. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” said the young girl, as soon as she perceived Dorsenne, “where + have you put the letter brought for the Prince?” + </p> + <p> + In Italy every foreigner is a prince or a count, and the profound + good-nature which reigns in the habit gives to those titles, in the mouths + of those who employ them, an amiability often free from calculation. There + is no country in the world where there is a truer, a more charming + familiarity of class for class, and Brancadori immediately gave a proof of + it in addressing as “Carolei”—that is to say, “my dear”—him + whom his daughter had blazoned with a coronet, and he cried, fumbling in + the pockets of the alpaca waistcoat which he wore over his apron of + office: + </p> + <p> + “The brain is often lacking in a gray head. I put it in the pocket of my + coat in order to be more sure of not forgetting it. I changed my coat, + because it was warm, and left it with the letter in my apartments.” + </p> + <p> + “You can look for it after lunch,” said Dorsenne. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the young girl, rising, “it is not two steps from here; I + will go. The concierge of the palace where your Excellency lives brought + it himself, and said it must be delivered immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, go and fetch it,” replied Julien, who could not suppress a + smile at the honor paid his dwelling, “and I will remain here and talk + with my doctor, while he gives me the prescription for this morning—that + is to say, his bill of fare. Guess whence I come, Brancadori,” he added, + assured of first stirring the cook’s curiosity, then his power of speech. + “From the Palais Castagna, where they are selling everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Per Bacco!” exclaimed the Tuscan, with evident sorrow upon his old + parchment-like face, scorched from forty years of cooking. “If the + deceased Prince Urban can see it in the other world, his heart will break, + I assure you. The last time he came to dine here, about ten years ago, on + Saint Joseph’s Day, he said to me: ‘Make me some fritters, Egiste, like + those we used to have at Monsieur d’Epinag’s, Monsieur Clairin’s, + Fortuny’s, and poor Henri Regnault’s.’ And he was happy! ‘Egiste,’ said he + to me, ‘I can die contented! I have only one son, but I shall leave him + six millions and the palace. If it was Gigi I should be less easy, but + Peppino!’ Gigi was the other one, the elder, who died, the gay one, who + used to come here every day—a fine fellow, but bad! You should have + heard him tell of his visit to Pius Ninth on the day upon which he + converted an Englishman. Yes, Excellency, he converted him by lending him + by mistake a pious book instead of a novel. The Englishman took the book, + read it, read another, a third, and became a Catholic. Gigi, who was not + in favor at the Vatican, hastened to tell the Holy Father of his good + deed. ‘You see, my son,’ said Pius Ninth, ‘what means our Lord God + employs!’ Ah, he would have used those millions for his amusement, while + Peppino! They were all squandered in signatures. Just think, the name of + Prince d’Ardea meant money! He speculated, he lost, he won, he lost again, + he drew up bills of exchange after bills of exchange. And every time he + made a move such as I am making with my pencil—only I can not sign + my name—it meant one hundred, two hundred thousand francs to go into + the world. And now he must leave his house and Rome. What will he do, + Excellency, I ask you?” With a shake of his head he added: “He should + reconstruct his fortune abroad. We have this saying: ‘He who squanders + gold with his hands will search for it with his feet.’ But Sabatino is + coming! She has been as nimble as a cat.” + </p> + <p> + The good man’s invaluable mimetic art, his proverbs, the story of the fete + of St. Joseph, the original evocation of the heir of the Castagnas + continually signing and signing, the coarse explanation of his ruin—very + true, however—everything in the recital had amused Dorsenne. He knew + enough Italian to appreciate the untranslatable passages of the language + of the man of the people. He was again on the verge of laughter, when the + fresco madonna, as he sometimes designated the young girl, handed him an + envelope the address upon which soon converted his smile into an + undisguised expression of annoyance. He pushed aside the day’s bill of + fare which the old cook presented to him and said, brusquely: “I fear I + can not remain to breakfast.” Then, opening the letter: “No, I can not; + adieu.” And he went out, in a manner so precipitate and troubled that the + uncle and niece exchanged smiling glances. Those typical Southerners could + not think of any other trouble in connection with so handsome a man as + Dorsenne than that of the heart. + </p> + <p> + “Chi ha l’amor nel petto,” said Signorina Sabatina. + </p> + <p> + “Ha lo spron nei fianchi,” replied the uncle. + </p> + <p> + That naive adage which compares the sharp sting which passion drives into + our breasts to the spurring given the flanks of a horse, was not true of + Dorsenne. The application of the proverb to the circumstance was not, + however, entirely erroneous, and the novelist commented upon it in his + passion, although in another form, by repeating to himself, as he went + along the Rue Sistina: “No, no, I can not interfere in that affair, and I + shall tell him so firmly.” + </p> + <p> + He examined again the note, the perusal of which had rendered him more + uneasy than he had been twice before that morning. He had not been + mistaken in recognizing on the envelope the handwriting of Boleslas Gorka, + and these were the terms, teeming with mystery under the circumstances, in + which the brief message was worded: + </p> + <p> + “I know you to be such a friend to me, dear Julien, and I have for your + character, so chivalrous and so French, such esteem that I have determined + to turn to you in an era of my life thoroughly tragical. I wish to see you + immediately. I shall await you at your lodging. I have sent a similar note + to the Cercle de la Chasse, another to the bookshop on the Corso, another + to your antiquary’s. Wheresoever my appeal finds you, leave all and come + at once. You will save more for me than life. For a reason which I will + tell you, my return is a profound secret. No one, you understand, knows of + it but you. I need not write more to a friend as sincere as you are, and + whom I embrace with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It is unequalled!” said Dorsenne, crumpling the letter with rising anger. + “He embraces me with all his heart. I am his most sincere friend! I am + chivalrous, French, the only person he esteems! What disagreeable + commission does he wish me to undertake for him? Into what scrape is he + about to ask me to enter, if he has not already got me into it? I know + that school of protestation. We are allied for life and death, are we not? + Do me a favor! And they upset your habits, encroach upon your time, embark + you in tragedies, and when you say ‘No’ to them-then they squarely accuse + you of selfishness and of treason! It is my fault, too. Why did I listen + to his confidences? Have I not known for years that a man who relates his + love-affairs on so short an acquaintance as ours is a scoundrel and a + fool? And with such people there can be no possible connection. He amused + me at the beginning, when he told me his sly intrigue, without naming the + person, as they all do at first. He amused me still more by the way he + managed to name her without violating that which people in society call + honor. And to think that the women believe in that honor and that + discretion! And yet it was the surest means of entering Steno’s, and + approaching Alba.... I believe I am about to pay for my Roman flirtation. + If Gorka is a Pole, I am from Lorraine, and the heir of the Castellans + will only make me do what I agree to, nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + In such an ill-humor and with such a resolution, Julien reached the door + of his house. If that dwelling was not the palace alluded to by Signorina + Sabatina, it was neither the usually common house as common today in new + Rome as in contemporary Paris, modern Berlin, and in certain streets of + London opened of late in the neighborhood of Hyde Park. It was an old + building on the Place de la Trinite-des-Monts, at an angle of the two + streets Sistina and Gregoriana. Although reduced to the state of a simple + pension, more or less bourgeoise, that house had its name marked in + certain guide-books, and like all the corners of ancient Rome it preserved + the traces of a glorious, artistic history. The small columns of the porch + gave it the name of the tempietto, or little temple, while several + personages dear to litterateurs had lived there, from the landscape + painter Claude Lorrain to the poet Francois Coppee. A few paces distant, + almost opposite, lived Poussin, and one of the greatest among modern + English poets, Keats, died quite near by, the John Keats whose tomb is to + be seen in Rome, with that melancholy epitaph upon it, written by himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Here lies one whose name was writ in water. +</pre> + <p> + It was seldom that Dorsenne returned home without repeating to himself the + translation he had attempted of that beautiful ‘Ci-git un don’t le nom, + jut ecrit sur de l’eau’. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes he repeated, at evening, this delicious fragment: + </p> + <p> + The sky was tinged with tender green and pink. + </p> + <p> + This time he entered in a more prosaic manner; for he addressed the + concierge in the tone of a jealous husband or a debtor hunted by + creditors: + </p> + <p> + “Have you given the key to any one, Tonino?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Count Gorka said that your Excellency asked him to await you here,” + replied the man, with a timidity rendered all the more comical by the + formidable cut of his gray moustache and his imperial, which made him a + caricature of the late King Victor Emmanuel. + </p> + <p> + He had served in ‘59 under the Galantuomo, and he paid the homage of a + veteran of Solferino to that glorious memory. His large eyes rolled with + fear at the least confusion, and he repeated: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he said that your Excellency asked him to wait,” while Dorsenne + ascended the staircase, saying aloud: “More and more perfect. But this + time the familiarity passes all bounds; and it is better so. I have been + so surprised and annoyed from the first that I shall be easily able to + refuse the imprudent fellow what he will ask of me.” In his anger the + novelist sought to arm himself against his weakness, of which he was aware—not + the weakness of insufficient will, but of a too vivid perception of the + motives which the person with whom he was in conflict obeyed. He, however, + was to learn that there is no greater dissolvent of rancor than + intelligent curiosity. His was, indeed, aroused by a simple detail, which + consisted in ascertaining under what conditions the Pole had travelled; + his dressing-case, his overcoat and his hat, still white with the dust of + travel, were lying upon the table in the antechamber. + </p> + <p> + Evidently he had come direct from Warsaw to the Place de la + Trinite-des-Monts. A prey to what delirium of passion? Dorsenne had not + time to ask the question any more than he had presence of mind to compose + his manner to such severity that it would cut short all familiarity on the + part of his strange visitor. At the noise made by the opening of the + antechamber door, Boleslas started up. He seized both hands of the man + into whose apartments he had obtruded himself. He pressed them. He gazed + at him with feverish eyes, with eyes which had not closed for hours, and + he murmured, drawing the novelist into the tiny salon: + </p> + <p> + “You have come, Julien, you are here! Ah, I thank you for having answered + my call at once! Let me look at you, for I am sure I have a friend beside + me, one in whom I can trust, with whom I can speak frankly, upon whom I + can depend. If this solitude had lasted much longer I should have become + mad.” + </p> + <p> + Although Madame Steno’s lover belonged to the class of excitable, nervous + people who exaggerate their feelings by an unconscious wildness of tone + and of manner, his face bore the traces of a trouble too deep not to be + startling. + </p> + <p> + Julien, who had seen him set out, three months before, so radiantly + handsome, was struck by the change which had taken place during such a + brief absence. He was the same Boleslas Gorka, that handsome man, that + admirable human animal, so refined and so strong, in which was embodied + centuries of aristocracy—the Counts de Gorka belong to the ancient + house of Lodzia, with which are connected so many illustrious Polish + families, the Opalenice-Opalenskis, the Bnin-Bninskis, the + Ponin-Poniniskis and many others—but his cheeks were sunken beneath + his long, brown beard, in which were glints of gold; his eyes were heavy + as if from wakeful nights, his nostrils were pinched and his face was + pale. The travel-stains upon his face accentuated the alteration. + </p> + <p> + Yet the native elegance of that face and form gave grace to his lassitude. + Boleslas, in the vigorous and supple maturity of his thirty-four years, + realized one of those types of manly beauty so perfect that they resist + the strongest tests. The excesses of emotion, as those of libertinism, + seem only to invest the man with a new prestige; the fact is that the + novelist’s room, with its collection of books, photographs, engravings, + paintings and moldings, invested that form, tortured by the bitter + sufferings of passion, with a poesy to which Dorsenne could not remain + altogether insensible. The atmosphere, impregnated with Russian tobacco + and the bluish vapor which filled the room, revealed in what manner the + betrayed lover had diverted his impatience, and in the centre of the + writing-table a cup with a bacchanal painted in red on a black ground, of + which Julien was very proud, contained the remains of about thirty + cigarettes, thrown aside almost as soon as lighted. Their paper ends had + been gnawed with a nervousness which betrayed the young man’s condition, + while he repeated, in a tone so sad that it almost called forth a shudder: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should have gone mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Calm yourself, my dear Boleslas, I implore you,” replied Dorsenne. What + had become of his ill-humor? How could he preserve it in the presence of a + person so evidently beside himself? Julien continued, speaking to his + companion as one speaks to a sick child: “Come, be seated. Be a little + more tranquil, since I am here, and you have reason to count on my + friendship. Speak to me. Explain to me what has happened. If there is any + advice to give you, I am ready. I am prepared to render you a service. My + God! In what a state you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not so?” said the other, with a sort of ironical pride. It was + sufficient that he had a witness of his grief for him to display it with + secret vanity. “Is it not so?” he continued. “Could you only know how I + have suffered. This is nothing,” said he, alluding to his haggard + appearance. “It is here that you should read,” he struck his breast, then + passing his hands over his brow and his eyes, as if to exorcise a + nightmare. “You are right. I must be calm, or I am lost.” + </p> + <p> + After a prolonged silence, during which he seemed to have gathered + together his thoughts and to collect his will, for his voice had become + decided and sharp, he began: “You know that I am here unknown to any one, + even to my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” replied Dorsenne. “I have just left the Countess. This + morning I visited the Palais Castagna with her, Hafner, Madame Maitland, + Florent Chapron.” He paused and added, thinking it better not to lie on + minor points, “Madame Steno and Alba were there, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Any one else?” asked Boleslas, with so keen a glance that the author had + to employ all his strength to reply: + </p> + <p> + “No one else.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence between the two men. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne anticipated from his question toward what subject the + conversation was drifting. Gorka, now lying rather than sitting upon the + divan in the small room, appeared like a beast that, at any moment, might + bound. Evidently he had come to Julien’s a prey to the mad desire to find + out something, which is to jealousy what thirst is to certain punishments. + When one has tasted the bitter draught of certainty, one does not suffer + less. Yet one walks toward it, barefooted, on the heated pavement, + heedless of the heat. The motives which led Boleslas to choose the French + novelist as the one from whom to obtain his information, demonstrated that + the feline character of his physiognomy was not deceptive. He understood + Dorsenne much better than Dorsenne understood him. He knew him to be + nervous, on the one hand, and perspicacious on the other. If there was an + intrigue between Maitland and Madame Steno, Julien had surely observed it, + and, approached in a certain manner, he would surely betray it. Moreover—for + that violent and crafty nature abounded in perplexities—Boleslas, + who passionately admired the author’s talent, experienced a sort of + indefinable attraction in exhibiting himself before him in the role of a + frantic lover. He was one of the persons who would have his photograph + taken on his deathbed, so much importance did he attach to his person. He + would, no doubt, have been insulted, if the author of ‘Une Eglogue + Mondaine’ had portrayed in a book himself and his love for Countess Steno, + and yet he had only approached the author, had only chosen him as a + confidant with the vague hope of impressing him. He had even thought of + suggesting to him some creation resembling himself. Yes, Gorka was very + complex, for he was not contented with deceiving his wife, he allowed the + confiding creature to form a friendship with the daughter of her husband’s + mistress. Still, he deceived her with remorse, and had never ceased + bearing her an affection as sorrowful as it was respectful. But it + required Dorsenne to admit the like anomalies, and the rare sensation of + being observed in his passionate frenzy attracted the young man to some + one who was at once a sure confidant, a possible portrayer, a moral + accomplice. It was necessary now, but it would not be an easy matter, to + make of him his involuntary detective. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” resumed he suddenly, “to what miserable, detailed inquiries I + have descended, I who always had a horror of espionage, as of some + terrible degradation. I shall question you frankly, for you are my friend. + And what a friend! I intended to use artifice with you at first, but I was + ashamed. Passion takes possession of me and distorts me. No matter what + infamy presents itself, I rush into it, and then I am afraid. Yes, I am + afraid of myself! But I have suffered so much! You do not understand? + Well! Listen,” continued he, covering Dorsenne with one of those glances + so scrutinizing that not a gesture, not a quiver of his eyelids, escaped + him, “and tell me if you have ever imagined for one of your romances a + situation similar to mine. You remember the mortal fear in which I lived + last winter, with the presence of my brother-in-law, and the danger of his + denouncing me to my poor Maud, from stupidity, from a British sense of + virtue, from hatred. You remember, also, what that voyage to Poland cost + me, after those long months of anxiety? The press of affairs and the + illness of my aunt coming just at the moment when I was freed from + Ardrahan, inspired me with miserable forebodings. I have always believed + in presentiments. I had one. I was not mistaken. From the first letter I + received—from whom you can guess—I saw that there was taking + place in Rome something which threatened me in what I held dearest on + earth, in that love for which I sacrificed all, toward which I walked by + trampling on the noblest of hearts. Was Catherine ceasing to love me? When + one has spent two years of one’s life in a passion—and what years!—one + clings to it with every fibre! I will spare you the recital of those first + weeks spent in going here and there, in paying visits to relatives, in + consulting lawyers, in caring for my sick aunt, in fulfilling my duty + toward my son, since the greater part of the fortune will go to him. And + always with this firm conviction: She no longer writes to me as formerly, + she no longer loves me. Ah! if I could show you the letter she wrote when + I was absent once before. You have a great deal of talent, Julien, but you + have never composed anything more beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, as if the part of the confession he was approaching cost him a + great effort, while Dorsenne interpolated: + </p> + <p> + “A change of tone in correspondence is not, however, sufficient to explain + the fever in which I see you.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” resumed Gorka, “but it was not merely a change of tone. I + complained. For the first time my complaint found no echo. I threatened to + cease writing. No reply. I wrote to ask forgiveness. I received a letter + so cold that in my turn I wrote an angry one. Another silence! Ah! You can + imagine the terrible effect produced upon me by an unsigned letter which I + received fifteen days since. It arrived one morning. It bore the Roman + postmark. I did not recognize the handwriting. I opened it. I saw two + sheets of paper on which were pasted cuttings from a French journal. I + repeat it was unsigned; it was an anonymous letter.” + </p> + <p> + “And you read it?” interrupted Dorsenne. “What folly!” + </p> + <p> + “I read it,” replied the Count. “It began with words of startling truth + relative to my own situation. That our affairs are known to others we may + be sure, since we know theirs. We should, consequently, remember that we + are at the mercy of their indiscretion, as they are at ours. The beginning + of the note served as a guarantee of the truth of the end, which was a + detailed, minute recital of an intrigue which Madame Steno had been + carrying on during my absence, and with whom? With the man whom I always + mistrusted, that dauber who wanted to paint Alba’s portrait—but + whose desires I nipped in the bud—with the fellow who degraded + himself by a shameful marriage for money, and who calls himself an artist—with + that American—with Lincoln Maitland!” + </p> + <p> + Although the childish and unjust hatred of the jealous—the hatred + which degrades us in lowering the one we love-had poisoned his discourse + with its bitterness, he did not cease watching Dorsenne. He partly raised + himself on the couch and thrust his head forward as he uttered the name of + his rival, glancing keenly at the novelist meanwhile. The latter + fortunately had been rendered indignant at the news of the anonymous + letter, and he repeated, with an astonishment which in no way aided his + interlocutor: + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” resumed Boleslas; “that was merely a beginning. The next day I + received another letter, written and sent under the same conditions; the + day after, a third. I have twelve of them—do you hear? twelve—in + my portfolio, and all composed with the same atrocious knowledge of the + circle in which we move, as was the first. At the same time I was + receiving letters from my poor wife, and all coincided, in the terrible + series, in a frightful concordance. The anonymous letter told me: ‘To-day + they were together two hours and a quarter,’ while Maud wrote: ‘I could + not go out to-day, as agreed upon, with Madame Steno, for she had a + headache.’ Then the portrait of Alba, of which they told me incidentally. + The anonymous letters detailed to me the events, the prolongation of + sitting, while my wife wrote: ‘We again went to see Alba’s portrait + yesterday. The painter erased what he had done.’ Finally it became + impossible for me to endure it. With their abominable minuteness of + detail, the anonymous letters gave me even the address of their + rendezvous! I set out. I said to myself, ‘If I announce my arrival to my + wife they will find it out, they will escape me.’ I intended to surprise + them. I wanted—Do I know what I wanted? I wanted to suffer no longer + the agony of uncertainty. I took the train. I stopped neither day nor + night. I left my valet yesterday in Florence, and this morning I was in + Rome. + </p> + <p> + “My plan was made on the way. I would hire apartments near theirs, in the + same street, perhaps in the same house. I would watch them, one, two days, + a week. And then—would you believe it? It was in the cab which was + bearing me directly toward that street that I saw suddenly, clearly within + me, and that I was startled. I had my hand upon this revolver.” He drew + the weapon from his pocket and laid it upon the divan, as if he wished to + repulse any new temptation. “I saw myself as plainly as I see you, killing + those two beings like two animals, should I surprise them. At the same + time I saw my son and my wife. Between murder and me there was, perhaps, + just the distance which separated me from the street, and I felt that it + was necessary to fly at once—to fly that street, to fly from the + guilty ones, if they were really guilty; to fly from myself! I thought of + you, and I have come to say to you, ‘My friend, this is how things are; I + am drowning, I am lost; save me.’” + </p> + <p> + “You have yourself found the salvation,” replied Dorsenne. “It is in your + son and your wife. See them first, and if I can not promise you that you + will not suffer any more, you will no longer be tempted by that horrible + idea.” And he pointed to the pistol, which gleamed in the sunlight that + entered through the casement. Then he added: “And you will have the idea + still less when you will have been able to prove ‘de visu’ what those + anonymous letters were worth. Twelve letters in fifteen days, and cuttings + from how many papers? And they claim that we invent heinousness in our + books! If you like, we will search together for the person who can have + elaborated that little piece of villany. It must be a Judas, a Rodin, an + Iago—or Iaga. But this is not the moment to waste in hypotheses. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of your valet? You must send him a despatch, and in that + despatch the copy of another addressed to Madame Gorka, which your man + will send this very evening. You will announce your arrival for tomorrow, + making allusion to a letter written, so to speak, from Poland, and which + was lost. This evening from here you will take the train for Florence, + from which place you will set out again this very night. You will be in + Rome again to-morrow morning. You will have avoided, not only the + misfortune of having become a murderer, though you would not have + surprised any one, I am sure, but the much more grave misfortune of + awakening Madame Gorka’s suspicions. Is it a promise?” + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne rose to prepare a pen and paper: “Come, write the despatch + immediately, and render thanks to your good genius which led you to a + friend whose business consists in imagining the means of solving insoluble + situations.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right,” Boleslas replied, after taking in his hand the pen + which he offered to the other, “it is fortunate.” Then, casting aside the + pen as he had the revolver, “I can not. No, I can not, as long as I have + this doubt within me. Ah, it is too horrible! I can see them plainly. You + speak to me of my wife; but you forget that she loves me, and at the first + glance she would read me, as you did. You can not imagine what an effort + it has cost me for two years never to arouse suspicion. I was happy, and + it is easy to deceive when one has nothing to hide but happiness. To-day + we should not be together five minutes before she would seek, and she + would find. No, no; I can not. I need something more.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately,” replied Julien, “I cannot give it to you. There is no + opium to lull asleep doubts such as those horrible anonymous letters have + awakened. What I know is this, that if you do not follow my advice Madame + Gorka will not have a suspicion, but certainty. It is now perhaps too + late. Do you wish me to tell you what I concealed from you on seeing you + so troubled? You did not lose much time in coming from the station hither, + and probably you did not look out of your cab twice. But you were seen. By + whom? By Montfanon. He told me so this morning almost on the threshold of + the Palais Castagna. If I had not gathered from some words uttered by your + wife that she was ignorant of your presence in Rome, I—do you hear?—I + should have told her of it. Judge now of your situation!” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with an agitation which was not assumed, so much was he troubled + by the evidence of danger which Gorka’s obstinacy presented. The latter, + who had begun to collect himself, had a strange light in his eyes. Without + doubt his companion’s nervousness marked the moment he was awaiting to + strike a decisive blow. He rose with so sudden a start that Dorsenne drew + back. He seized both of his hands, but with such force that not a quiver + of the muscles escaped him: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Julien, you have the means of consoling me, you have it,” said he in + a voice again hoarse with emotion. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked the novelist. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? You are an honest man, Dorsenne; you are a great artist; you + are my friend, and a friend allied to me by a sacred bond, almost a + brother-in-arms; you, the grandnephew of a hero who shed his blood by the + side of my grandfather at Somo-Sierra. Give me your word of honor that you + are absolutely certain Madame Steno is not Maitland’s mistress, that you + never thought it, have never heard it said, and I will believe you, I will + obey you! Come,” continued he, pressing the writer’s hand with more + fervor, “I see you hesitate!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Julien, disengaging himself from the wild grasp, “I do not + hesitate. I am sorry for you. Were I to give you that word, would it have + any weight with you for five minutes? Would you not be persuaded + immediately that I was perjuring myself to avoid a misfortune?” + </p> + <p> + “You hesitate,” interrupted Boleslas. Then, with a burst of wild laughter, + he said, “It is then true! I like that better! It is frightful to know it, + but one suffers less—To know it’ As if I did not know she had lovers + before me, as if it were not written on Alba’s every feature that she is + Werekiew’s child, as if I had not heard it said seventy times before + knowing her that she had loved Branciforte, San Giobbe, Strabane, ten + others. Before, during, or after, what difference does it make? Ah, I was + sure on knocking at your door—at this door of honor—I should + hear the truth, that I would touch it as I touch this object,” and he laid + his hand upon a marble bust on the table. + </p> + <p> + “You see I hear it like a man. You can speak to me now. Who knows? Disgust + is a great cure for passion. I will listen to you. Do not spare me!” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Gorka,” replied Dorsenne. “What I have to say to you, I + can say very simply. I was, and I am, convinced that in a quarter of an + hour, in an hour, tomorrow, the day after, you will consider me a liar or + an imbecile. But, since you misinterpreted my silence, it is my duty to + speak, and I do so. I give you my word of honor I have never had the least + suspicion of a connection between Madame Steno and Maitland, nor have + their relations seemed changed to me for a second since your absence. I + give you my word of honor that no one, do you hear, no one has spoken of + it to me. And, now, act as you please, think as you please. I have said + all I can say.” + </p> + <p> + The novelist uttered those words with a feverish energy which was caused + by the terrible strain he was making upon his conscience. But Gorka’s + laugh had terrified him so much the more as at the same instant the + jealous lover’s disengaged hand was voluntarily or involuntarily extended + toward the weapon which gleamed upon the couch. The vision of an immediate + catastrophe, this time inevitable, rose before Julien. His lips had + spoken, as his arm would have been out stretched, by an irresistible + instinct, to save several lives, and he had made the false statement, the + first and no doubt the last in his life, without reflecting. He had no + sooner uttered it than he experienced such an excess of anger that he + would at that moment almost have preferred not to be believed. It would + indeed have been a comfort to him if his visitor had replied by one of + those insulting negations which permit one man to strike another, so great + was his irritation. On the contrary, he saw the face of Madame Steno’s + lover turned toward him with an expression of gratitude upon it. + Boleslas’s lips quivered, his hands were clasped, two large tears gushed + from his burning eyes and rolled down his cheeks. When he was able to + speak, he moaned: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friend, how much good you have done me! From what a nightmare you + have relieved me. Ah! Now I am saved! I believe you, I believe you. You + are intimate with them. You see them every day. If there had been anything + between them you would know it. You would have heard it talked of. Ah! + Thanks! Give me your hand that I may press it. Forget all I said to you + just now, the slander I uttered in a moment of delirium. I know very well + it was untrue. And now, let me embrace you as I would if you had really + saved me from drowning. Ah, my friend, my only friend!” + </p> + <p> + And he rushed up to clasp to his bosom the novelist, who replied with the + words uttered at the beginning of this conversation: “Calm yourself, I + beseech you, calm yourself!” and repeating to himself, brave and loyal man + that he was: “I could not act differently, but it is hard!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 2. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. APPROACHING DANGER + </h2> + <p> + “I could not act differently,” repeated Dorsenne on the evening of that + eventful day. He had given his entire afternoon to caring for Gorka. He + made him lunch. He made him lie down. He watched him. He took him in a + closed carriage to Portonaccio, the first stopping-place on the Florence + line. Indeed, he made every effort not to leave alone for a moment the man + whose frenzy he had rather suspended than appeased, at the price, alas, of + his own peace of mind! For, once left alone, in solitude and in the + apartments on the Place de la Trinite, where twenty details testified to + the visit of Gorka, the weight of the perjured word of honor became a + heavy load to the novelist, so much the more heavy when he discovered the + calculating plan followed by Boleslas. His tardy penetration permitted him + to review the general outline of their conversation. He perceived that not + one of his interlocutor’s sentences, not even the most agitated, had been + uttered at random. From reply to reply, from confidence to confidence, he, + Dorsenne, had become involved in the dilemma without being able to foresee + or to avoid it; he would either have had to accuse a woman or to lie with + one of those lies which a manly conscience does not easily pardon. He did + not forgive himself for it. + </p> + <p> + “It is so much worse,” said he to himself, “as it will prevent nothing. A + person vile enough to pen anonymous letters will not stop there. She will + find the means of again unchaining the madman.... But who wrote those + letters? Gorka may have forged them in order to have an opportunity to ask + me the question he did.... And yet, no.... There are two indisputable + facts—his state of jealousy and his extraordinary return. Both would + lead one to suppose a third, a warning. But given by whom?... He told me + of twelve anonymous letters.... Let us assume that he received one or + two.... But who is the author of those?” + </p> + <p> + The immediate development of the drama in which Julien found himself + involved was embodied in the answer to the question. It was not easy to + formulate. The Italians have a proverb of singular depth which the + novelist recalled at that moment. He had laughed a great deal when he + heard sententious Egiste Brancadori repeat it. He repeated it to himself, + and he understood its meaning. ‘Chi non sa fingersi amico, non sa essere + nemico. “He who does not know how to disguise himself as a friend, does + not know how to be an enemy.” In the little corner of society in which + Countess Steno, the Gorkas and Lincoln Maitland moved, who was + hypocritical and spiteful enough to practise that counsel? + </p> + <p> + “It is not Madame Steno,” thought Julien; “she has related all herself to + her lover. I knew a similar case. But it involved degraded Parisians, not + a Dogesse of the sixteenth century found intact in the Venice of today, + like a flower of that period preserved. Let us strike her off. Let us + strike off, too, Madame Gorka, the truthful creature who could not even + condescend to the smallest lie for a trinket which she desires. It is that + which renders her so easily deceived. What irony!... Let us strike off + Florent. He would allow himself to be killed, if necessary, like a + Mameluke at the door of the room where his genial brother-in-law was + dallying with the Countess.... Let us strike off the American himself. I + have met such a case, a lover weary of a mistress, denouncing himself to + her in order to be freed from his love-affair. But he was a roue, and had + nothing in common with this booby, who has a talent for painting as an + elephant has a trunk—what irony! He married this octoroon to have + money. But it was a base act which freed him from commerce, and permitted + him to paint all he wanted, as he wanted. He allows Steno to love him + because she is diabolically pretty, notwithstanding her forty years, and + then she is, in spite of all, a real noblewoman, which flattered him. He + has not one dollar’s-worth of moral delicacy in his heart. But he has an + abundance of knavery.... Let us, too, strike out his wife. She is such a + veritable slave whom the mere presence of a white person annihilates to + such a degree that she dares not look her husband in the face.... It is + not Hafner. The sly fox is capable of doing anything by cunning, but is he + capable of undertaking a useless and dangerous piece of rascality? + Never.... Fanny is a saint escaped from the Golden Legend, no matter what + Montfanon thinks! I have now reviewed the entire coterie.... I was about + to forget Alba.... It is too absurd even to think of her.... Too absurd? + Why?” + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne was, on formulating that fantastic thought, upon the point of + retiring. He took up, as was his habit, one of the books on his table, in + order to read a few pages, when once in bed. He had thus within his reach + the works by which he strengthened his doctrine of intransitive + intellectuality; they were Goethe’s Memoirs; a volume of George Sand’s + correspondence, in which were the letters to Flaubert; the ‘Discours de la + Methode’ by Descartes, and the essay by Burckhart on the Renaissance. + </p> + <p> + But, after turning over the leaves of one of those volumes, he closed it + without having read twenty lines. He extinguished his lamp, but he could + not sleep. The strange suspicion which crossed his mind had something + monstrous about it, applied thus to a young girl. What a suspicion and + what a young girl! The preferred friend of his entire winter, she on whose + account he had prolonged his stay in Rome, for she was the most graceful + vision of delicacy and of melancholy in the framework of a tragical and + solemn past. Any other than Dorsenne would not have admitted such an idea + without being inspired with horror. But Dorsenne, on the contrary, + suddenly began to dive into that sinister hypothesis, to help it forward, + to justify it. No one more than he suffered from a moral deformity which + the abuse of a certain literary work inflicts on some writers. They are so + much accustomed to combining artificial characters with creations of their + imaginations that they constantly fulfil an analogous need with regard to + the individuals they know best. They have some friend who is dear to them, + whom they see almost daily, who hides nothing from them and from whom they + hide nothing. But if they speak to you of him you are surprised to find + that, while continuing to love that friend, they trace to you in him two + contradictory portraits with the same sincerity and the same probability. + </p> + <p> + They have a mistress, and that woman, even in the space sometimes of one + day, sees them, with fear, change toward her, who has remained the same. + It is that they have developed in them to a very intense degree the + imagination of the human soul, and that to observe is to them only a + pretext to construe. That infirmity had governed Julien from early + maturity. It was rarely manifested in a manner more unexpected than in the + case of charming Alba Steno, who was possibly dreaming of him at the very + moment when, in the silence of the night, he was forcing himself to prove + that she was capable of that species of epistolary parricide. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” he said to himself, for there is iconoclasm in the + excessively intellectual, and they delight in destroying their dearest + moral or sentimental idols, the better to prove their strength, “after + all, have I really understood her relations toward her mother? When I came + to Rome in November, when I was to be presented to the Countess, what did + not only one, but nine or ten persons tell me? That Madame Steno had a + liaison with the husband of her daughter’s best friend, and that the + little one was grieving about it. I went to the house. I saw the child. + She was sad that evening. I had the curiosity to wish to read her + heart.... It is six months since then. We have met almost daily, often + twice a day. She is so hermetically sealed that I am no farther advanced + than I was on the first day. I have seen her glance at her mother as she + did this morning, with loving, admiring eyes. I have seen her turn pale at + a word, a gesture, on her part. I have seen her embrace Maud Gorka, and + play tennis with that same friend so gayly, so innocently. I have seen + that she could not bear the presence of Maitland in a room, and yet she + asked the American to take her portrait.... Is she guileless?... Is she a + hypocrite? Or is she tormented by doubt-divining, not divining-believing, + not believing in-her mother? Is she underhand in any case, with her eyes + the color of the sea? Has she the ambiguous mind at once of a Russian and + an Italian?... This would be a solution of the problem, that she was a + girl of extraordinary inward energy, who, both aware of her mother’s + intrigues and detesting them with an equal hatred, had planned to + precipitate the two men upon each other. For a young girl the undertaking + is great. I will go to the Countess’s to-morrow night, and I will amuse + myself by watching Alba, to see... If she is innocent, my deed will be + inoffensive. If perchance she is not?” + </p> + <p> + It is vain to profess to one’s own heart a complaisant dandyism of + misanthropy. Such reflections leave behind them a tinge of a remorse, + above all when they are, as these, absolutely whimsical and founded on a + simple paradox of dilettantism. Dorsenne experienced a feeling of shame + when he awoke the following morning, and, thinking of the mystery of the + letters received by Gorka, he recalled the criminal romance he had + constructed around the charming and tender form of his little friend; + happily for his nerves, which were strained by the consideration of the + formidable problem. If it is not some one in the Countess’s circle, who + has written those letters? He received, on rising, a voluminous package of + proofs with the inscription: “Urgent.” He was preparing to give to the + public a collection of his first articles, under the title of ‘Poussiere + d’Idees.’ + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne was a faithful literary worker. Usually, involved titles serve to + hide in a book-stall shop—made goods, and romance writers or + dramatic authors who pride themselves on living to write, and who seek + inspiration elsewhere than in regularity of habits and the work-table, + have their efforts marked from the first by sterility. Obscure or famous, + rich or poor, an artist must be an artisan and practise these fruitful + virtues—patient application, conscientious technicality, absorption + in work. When he seated himself at his table Dorsenne was heart and soul + in his business. He closed his door, he opened no letters nor telegrams, + and he spent ten hours without taking anything but two eggs and some black + coffee, as he did on this particular day, when looking over the essays of + his twenty-fifth year with the talent of his thirty-fifth, retouching here + a word, rewriting an entire page, dissatisfied here, smiling there at his + thought. The pen flew, carrying with it all the sensibility of the + intellectual man who had completely forgotten Madame Steno, Gorka, + Maitland, and the calumniated Contessina, until he should awake from his + lucid intoxication at nightfall. As he counted, in arranging the slips, + the number of articles prepared, he found there were twelve. + </p> + <p> + “Like Gorka’s letters,” said he aloud, with a laugh. He now felt coursing + through his veins the lightness which all writers of his kind feel when + they have labored on a work they believe good. “I have earned my evening,” + he added, still in a loud voice. “I must now dress and go to Madame + Steno’s. A good dinner at the doctor’s. A half-hour’s walk. The night + promises to be divine. I shall find out if they have news of the + Palatine,”—the name he gave Gorka in his moments of gayety. “I shall + talk in a loud voice of anonymous letters. If the author of those received + by Boleslas is there, I shall be in the best position to discover him; + provided that it is not Alba.... Decidedly—that would be sad!” + </p> + <p> + It was ten o’clock in the evening, when the young man, faithful to his + programme, arrived at the door of the large house on the Rue du Vingt + Septembre occupied by Madame Steno. It was an immense modern structure, + divided into two distinct parts; to the left a revenue building and to the + right a house on the order of those which are to be seen on the borders of + Park Monceau. The Villa Steno, as the inscription in gold upon the black + marble door indicated, told the entire story of the Countess’s fortune—that + fortune appraised by rumor, with its habitual exaggeration, now at twenty, + now at thirty, millions. She had in reality two hundred and fifty thousand + francs’ income. But as, in 1873, Count Michel Steno, her husband, died, + leaving only debts, a partly ruined palace at Venice and much property + heavily mortgaged, the amount of that income proved the truth of the + title, “superior woman,” applied by her friends to Alba’s mother. Her + friends likewise added: “She has been the mistress of Hafner, who has + aided her with his financial advice,” an atrocious slander which was so + much the more false as it was before ever knowing the Baron that she had + begun to amass her wealth. This is how she managed it: + </p> + <p> + At the close of 1873, when, as a young widow, living in retirement in the + sumptuous and ruined dwelling on the Grand Canal, she was struggling with + her creditors, one of the largest bankers in Rome came to propose to her a + very advantageous scheme. It dealt with a large piece of land which + belonged to the Steno estate, a piece of land in Rome, in one of the + suburbs, between the Porta Salara and the Porta Pia, a sort of village + which the deceased Cardinal Steno, Count Michel’s uncle, had begun to lay + out. After his demise, the land had been rented in lots to + kitchen-gardeners, and it was estimated that it was worth about forty + centimes a square metre. The financier offered four francs for it, under + the pretext of establishing a factory on the site. It was a large sum of + money. The Countess required twenty-four hours in which to consider, and, + at the end of that time, she refused the offer, which won for her the + admiration of the men of business who knew of the refusal. In 1882, less + than ten years later, she sold the same land for ninety francs a metre. + She saw, on glancing at a plan of Rome, and in recalling the history of + modern Italy, first, that the new masters of the Eternal City would centre + all their ambition in rebuilding it, then that the portion comprised + between the Quirinal and the two gates of Salara and Pia would be one of + the principal points of development; finally, that if she waited she would + obtain a much greater sum than the first offer. And she had waited, + applying herself to watching the administration of her possessions like + the severest of intendants, depriving herself, stopping up gaps with + unhoped-for profits. In 1875, she sold to the National Gallery a suite of + four panels by Carpaccio, found in one of her country houses, for one + hundred and twenty thousand francs. She had been as active and practical + in her material life as she had been light and audacious in her + sentimental experiences. The story circulated of her infidelity to Steno + with Werekiew at St. Petersburg, where the diplomatist was stationed, + after one year of marriage, was confirmed by the wantonness of her + conduct, of which she gave evidence as soon as free. + </p> + <p> + At Rome, where she lived a portion of the year after the sale of her land, + out of which she retained enough to build the double house, she continued + to increase her fortune with the same intelligence. A very advantageous + investment in Acqua Marcia enabled her to double in five years the + enormous profits of her first operation. And what proved still more the + exceptional good sense with which the woman was endowed, when love was not + in the balance, she stopped on those two gains, just at the time when the + Roman aristocracy, possessed by the delirium of speculation, had begun to + buy stocks which had reached their highest value. + </p> + <p> + To spend the evening at the Villa Steno, after spending all the morning of + the day before at the Palais Castagna, was to realize one of those + paradoxes of contradictory sensations such as Dorsenne loved, for poor + Ardea had been ruined in having attempted to do a few years later that + which Countess Catherine had done at the proper moment. He, too, had hoped + for an increase in the value of property. Only he had bought the land at + seventy francs a metre, and in ‘90 it was not worth more than twenty-five. + He, too, had calculated that Rome would improve, and on the high-priced + land he had begun to build entire streets, imagining he could become like + the Dukes of Bedford and of Westminster in London, the owner of whole + districts. His houses finished, they did not rent, however. To complete + the rest he had to borrow. He speculated in order to pay his debts, lost, + and contracted more debts in order to pay the difference. His signature, + as the proprietor of the Marzocco had said, was put to innumerable bills + of exchange. The result was that on all the walls of Rome, including that + of the Rue Vingt Septembre on which was the Villa Steno, were posted + multi-colored placards announcing the sale, under the management of + Cavalier Fossati, of the collection of art and of furniture of the Palais + Castagna. + </p> + <p> + “To foresee is to possess power,” said Dorsenne to himself, ringing at + Madame Steno’s door and summing up thus the invincible association of + ideas which recalled to him the palace of the ruined Roman Prince at the + door of the villa of the triumphant Venetian: “It is the real Alpha and + Omega.” + </p> + <p> + The comparison between the lot of Madame Steno and that of the heir of the + Castagnas had almost caused the writer to forget his plan of inquiry as to + the author of the anonymous letters. It was to be impressed upon him, + however, when he entered the hall where the Countess received every + evening. Ardea himself was there, the centre of a group composed of Alba + Steno, Madame Maitland, Fanny Hafner and the wealthy Baron, who, standing + aloof and erect, leaning against a console, seemed like a beneficent and + venerable man in the act of blessing youth. Julien was not surprised on + finding so few persons in the vast salon, any more than he was surprised + at the aspect of the room filled with old tapestry, bric-a-brac, + furniture, flowers, and divans with innumerable cushions. + </p> + <p> + He had had the entire winter in which to observe the interior of that + house, similar to hundreds of others in Vienna, Madrid, Florence, Berlin, + anywhere, indeed, where the mistress of the house applies herself to + realizing an ideal of Parisian luxury. He had amused himself many an + evening in separating from the almost international framework local + features, those which distinguished the room from others of the same kind. + No human being succeeds in being absolutely factitious in his home or in + his writings. The author had thus noted that the salon bore a date, that + of the Countess’s last journey to Paris in 1880. It was to be seen in the + plush and silk of the curtains. The general coloring, in which green + predominated, a liberty egotistical in so brilliant a blonde, had too warm + a tone and betrayed the Italian. Italy was also to be found in the painted + ceiling and in the frieze which ran all around, as well as in several + paintings scattered about. There were two panels by Moretti de Brescia in + the second style of the master, called his silvery manner, on account of + the delicate and transparent fluidity of the coloring; a ‘Souper chez le + Pharisien’ and a ‘Jesus ressuscite sur le rivage’, which could only have + come from one of the very old palaces of a very ancient family. Dorsenne + knew all that, and he knew, too, for what reasons he found almost empty at + that time of the year the hall so animated during the entire winter, the + hall through which he had seen pass a veritable carnival of visitors: + great lords, artists, political men, Russians and Austrians, English and + French—pellmell. The Countess was far from occupying in Rome the + social position which her intelligence, her fortune and her name should + have assured her. For, having been born a Navagero, she combined on her + escutcheon the cross of gold of the Sebastien Navagero who was the first + to mount the walls of Lepante, with the star of the grand Doge Michel. + </p> + <p> + But one particular trait of character had always prevented her from + succeeding on that point. She could not bear ennui nor constraint, nor had + she any vanity. She was positive and impassioned, in the manner of the men + of wealth to whom their meditated—upon combinations serve to assure + the conditions of their pleasures. Never had Madame Steno displayed + diplomacy in the changes of her passions, and they had been numerous + before the arrival of Gorka, to whom she had remained faithful two years, + an almost incomprehensible thing! Never had she, save in her own home, + observed the slightest bounds when there was a question of reaching the + object of her desire. Moreover, she had not in Rome to support her any + member of the family to which she belonged, and she had not joined either + of the two sets into which, since 1870, the society of the city was + divided. Of too modern a mind and of a manner too bold, she had not been + received by the admirable woman who reigns at the Quirinal, and who had + managed to gather around her an atmosphere of such noble elevation. + </p> + <p> + These causes would have brought about a sort of semi-ostracism, had the + Countess not applied herself to forming a salon of her own, the recruits + for which were almost altogether foreigners. The sight of new faces, the + variety of conversation, the freedom of manner, all in that moving world, + pleased the thirst for diversion which, in that puissant, spontaneous, and + almost manly immoral nature, was joined with very just clear-sightedness. + If Julien paused for a moment surprised at the door of the hall, it was + not, therefore, on finding it empty at the end of the season; it was on + beholding there, among the inmates, Peppino Ardea, whom he had not met all + winter. Truly, it was a strange time to appear in new scenes when the + hammer of the appraiser was already raised above all which had been the + pride and the splendor of his name. But the grand-nephew of Urban VII, + seated between sublime Fanny Hafner, in pale blue, and pretty Alba Steno, + in bright red, opposite Madame Maitland, so graceful in her mauve + toilette, had in no manner the air of a man crushed by adversity. + </p> + <p> + The subdued light revealed his proud manly face, which had lost none of + its gay hauteur. His eyes, very black, very brilliant, and very unsteady, + seemed almost in the same glance to scorn and to smile, while his mouth, + beneath its brown moustache, wore an expression of disdain, disgust, and + sensuality. The shaven chin displayed a bluish shade, which gave to the + whole face a look of strength, belied by the slender and nervous form. The + heir of the Castagnas was dressed with an affectation of the English + style, peculiar to certain Italians. He wore too many rings on his + fingers, too large a bouquet in his buttonhole, and above all he made too + many gestures to allow for a moment, with his dark complexion, of any + doubt as to his nationality. It was he who, of all the group, first + perceived Julien, and he said to him, or rather called out familiarly: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Dorsenne! I thought you had gone away. We have not seen you at the + club for fifteen days.” + </p> + <p> + “He has been working,” replied Hafner, “at some new masterpiece, at a + romance which is laid in Roman society, I am sure. Mistrust him, Prince, + and you, ladies, disarm the portrayer.” + </p> + <p> + “I,” resumed Ardea, laughing pleasantly, “will give him notes upon myself, + if he wants them, as long as this, and I will illustrate his romance into + the bargain with photographs which I once had a rage for taking.... See, + Mademoiselle,” he added, turning to Fanny, “that is how one ruins one’s + self. I had a mania for the instantaneous ones. It was very innocent, was + it not? It cost me thirty thousand francs a year, for four years.” + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne had heard that it was a watchword between Peppino Ardea and his + friends to take lightly the disaster which came upon the Castagna family + in its last and only scion. He was not expecting such a greeting. He was + so disconcerted by it that he neglected to reply to the Baron’s remark, as + he would have done at any other time. Never did the founder of the ‘Credit + Austyr-Dalmate’ fail to manifest in some such way his profound aversion + for the novelist. Men of his species, profoundly cynical and calculating, + fear and scorn at the same time a certain literature. Moreover, he had too + much tact not to be aware of the instinctive repulsion with which he + inspired Julien. But to Hafner, all social strength was tariffed, and + literary success as much as any other. As he was afraid, as on the + staircase of the Palais Castagna, that he had gone too far, he added, + laying his hand with its long, supple fingers familiarly upon the author’s + shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “This is what I admire in him: It is that he allows profane persons, such + as we are, to plague him, without ever growing angry. He is the only + celebrated author who is so simple.... But he is better than an author; he + is a veritable man-of-the-world.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not the Countess here?” asked Dorsenne, addressing Alba Steno, and + without replying any more to the action, so involuntarily insulting, of + the Baron than he had to his sly malice or to the Prince’s facetious + offer. Madame Steno’s absence had again inspired him with an apprehension + which the young girl dissipated by replying: + </p> + <p> + “My mother is on the terrace.... We were afraid it was too cool for + Fanny.”.... It was a very simple phrase, which the Contessina uttered very + simply, as she fanned herself with a large fan of white feathers. Each + wave of it stirred the meshes of her fair hair, which she wore curled upon + her rather high forehead. Julien understood her too well not to perceive + that her voice, her gestures, her eyes, her entire being, betrayed a + nervousness at that moment almost upon the verge of sadness. + </p> + <p> + Was she still reserved from the day before, or was she a prey to one of + those inexplicable transactions, which had led Dorsenne in his meditations + of the night to such strange suspicions? Those suspicions returned to him + with the feeling that, of all the persons present, Alba was the only one + who seemed to be aware of the drama which undoubtedly was brewing. He + resolved to seek once more for the solution of the living enigma which + that singular girl was. How lovely she appeared to him that evening with, + those two expressions which gave her an almost tragical look! The corners + of her mouth drooped somewhat; her upper lip, almost too short, disclosed + her teeth, and in the lower part of her pale face was a bitterness so + prematurely sad! Why? It was not the time to ask the question. First of + all, it was necessary for the young man to go in search of Madame Steno on + the terrace, which terminated in a paradise of Italian voluptuousness, the + salon furnished in imitation of Paris. Shrubs blossomed in large + terra-cotta vases. Statuettes were to be seen on the balustrade, and, + beyond, the pines of the Villa Bonaparte outlined their black umbrellas + against a sky of blue velvet, strewn with large stars. A vague aroma of + acacias, from a garden near by, floated in the air, which was light, + caressing, and warm. The soft atmosphere sufficed to convict of falsehood + the Contessina, who had evidently wished to justify the tete-a-tete of her + mother and of Maitland. The two lovers were indeed together in the + perfume, the mystery and the solitude of the obscure and quiet terrace. + </p> + <p> + It took Dorsenne, who came from the bright glare of the salon, a moment to + distinguish in the darkness the features of the Countess who, dressed all + in white, was lying upon a willow couch with soft cushions of silk. She + was smoking a cigarette, the lighted end of which, at each breath she + drew, gave sufficient light to show that, notwithstanding the coolness of + the night, her lovely neck, so long and flexible, about which was clasped + a collar of pearls, was bare, as well as her fair shoulders and her + perfect arms, laden with bracelets, which were visible through her wide, + flowing sleeves. On advancing, Julien recognized, through the vegetable + odors of that spring night, the strong scent of the Virginian tobacco + which Madame Steno had used since she had fallen in love with Maitland, + instead of the Russian “papyrus” to which Gorka had accustomed her. It is + by such insignificant traits that amorous women recognize a love + profoundly, insatiably sensual, the only one of which the Venetian was + capable. Their passionate desire to give themselves up still more leads + them to espouse, so to speak, the slightest habits of the men whom they + love in that way. Thus are explained those metamorphoses of tastes, of + thoughts, even of appearance, so complete, that in six months, in three + months of separation they become like different people. By the side of + that graceful and supple vision, Lincoln Maitland was seated on a low + chair. But his broad shoulders, which his evening coat set off in their + amplitude, attested that before having studied “Art”—and even while + studying it—he had not ceased to practise the athletic sports of his + English education. As soon as he was mentioned, the term “large” was + evoked. Indeed, above the large frame was a large face, somewhat red, with + a large, red moustache, which disclosed, in broad smiles, his large, + strong teeth. + </p> + <p> + Large rings glistened on his large fingers. He presented a type exactly + opposite to that of Boleslas Gorka. If the grandson of the Polish + Castellan recalled the dangerous finesse of a feline, of a slender and + beautiful panther, Maitland could be compared to one of those mastiffs in + the legends, with a jaw and muscles strong enough to strangle lions. The + painter in him was only in the eye and in the hand, in consequence of a + gift as physical as the voice to a tenor. But that instinct, almost + abnormal, had been developed, cultivated to excess, by the energy of will + in refinement, a trait so marked in the Anglo-Saxons of the New World when + they like Europe, instead of detesting it. For the time being, the longing + for refinement seemed reduced to the passionate inhalations of that + divine, fair rose of love which was Madame Steno, a rose almost too + full-blown, and which the autumn of forty years had begun to fade. But she + was still charming. And how little Maitland heeded the fact that his wife + was in the room near by, the windows of which cast forth a light which + caused to stand out more prominently the shadow of the voluptuous terrace! + He held his mistress’s hand within his own, but abandoned it when he + perceived Dorsenne, who took particular pains to move a chair noisily on + approaching the couple, and to say, in a loud voice, with a merry laugh: + </p> + <p> + “I should have made a poor gallant abbe of the last century, for at night + I can really see nothing. If your cigarette had not served me as a + beacon-light I should have run against the balustrade.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is you, Dorsenne,” replied Madame Steno, with a sharpness contrary + to her habitual amiability, which proved to the novelist that first of all + he was the “inconvenient third” of the classical comedies, then that + Hafner had reported his imprudent remarks of the day before. + </p> + <p> + “So much the better,” thought he, “I shall have forewarned her. On + reflection she will be pleased. It is true that at this moment there is no + question of reflection.” As he said those words to himself, he talked + aloud of the temperature of the day, of the probabilities of the weather + for the morrow, of Ardea’s good-humor. He made, indeed, twenty trifling + remarks, in order to manage to leave the terrace and to leave the lovers + to their tete-a-tete, without causing his withdrawal to become noticeable + by indiscreet haste, as disagreeable as suggestive. + </p> + <p> + “When may we come to your atelier to see the portrait finished, Maitland?” + he asked, still standing, in order the better to manage his retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Finished?” exclaimed the Countess, who added, employing a diminutive + which she had used for several weeks: “Do you then not know that Linco has + again effaced the head?” + </p> + <p> + “Not the entire head,” said the painter, “but the face is to be done over. + You remember, Dorsenne, those two canvases by Pier delta Francesca, which + are at Florence, Duc Federigo d’Urbino and his wife Battista Sforza. Did + you not see them in the same room with La Calomnie by Botticelli, with a + landscape in the background? It is drawn like this,” and he made a gesture + with his thumb, “and that is what I am trying to obtain, the necessary + curve on which all faces depend. There is no better painter in Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “And Titian and Raphael?” interrupted Madame Steno. + </p> + <p> + “And the Sienese and the Lorenzetti, of whom you once raved? You wrote to + me of them, with regard to my article on your exposition of ‘eighty-six; + do you remember?” inquired the writer. + </p> + <p> + “Raphael?” replied Maitland.... “Do you wish me to tell you what Raphael + really was? A sublime builder. And Titian? A sublime upholsterer. It is + true, I admired the Sienese very much,” he added, turning toward Dorsenne. + “I spent three months in copying the Simone Martini of the municipality, + the Guido Riccio, who rides between two strongholds on a gray heath, where + there is not a sign of a tree or a house, but only lances and towers. Do I + remember Lorenzetti? Above all, the fresco at San Francesco, in which + Saint Francois presents his order to the Pope, that was his best work.... + Then, there is a cardinal, with his fingers on his lips, thus!” another + gesture. “Well, I remember it, you see, because there is an anecdote. It + is portrayed on a wall—oh, a grand portrayal, but without the + subject, flutt!”.... and he made a hissing sound with his lips, “while + Pier della Francesca, Carnevale, Melozzo,”.... he paused to find a word + which would express the very complicated thought in his head, and he + concluded: “That is painting.” + </p> + <p> + “But the Assumption by Titian, and the Transfiguration by Raphael,” + resumed the Countess, who added in Italian, with an accent of enthusiasm: + “Ah, the bellezza!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not worry, Countess,” said Dorsenne, laughing heartily, “those are an + artist’s opinions. Ten years ago, I said that Victor Hugo was an amateur + and Alfred de Musset a bourgeois. But,” he added, “as I am not descended + from the Doges nor the Pilgrim Fathers, I, a poor, degenerate Gallo-Roman, + fear the dampness on account of my rheumatism, and ask your permission to + reenter the house.” Then, as he passed through the door of the salon: + “Raphael, a builder! Titian, an upholsterer! Lorenzetti, a reproducer!” he + repeated to himself. “And the descendant of the Doges, who listened + seriously to those speeches, her ideal should be a madonna en chromo! Of + the first order! As for Gorka, if he had not made me lose my entire day + yesterday, I should think I had been dreaming, so little is there any + question of him.... And Ardea, who continues to laugh at his ruin. He is + not bad for an Italian. But he talks too much about his affairs, and it is + in bad taste!”.... Indeed, as he turned toward the group assembled in a + corner of the salon, he heard the Prince relating a story about Cavalier + Fossati, to whom was entrusted the charge of the sale: + </p> + <p> + “How much do you think will be realized on all?” I asked him, finally. + “Oh,” he replied, “very little.... But a little and a little more end by + making a great deal. With what an air he added: ‘E gia il moschino e + conte’—Already the gnat is a count.’ The gnat was himself. ‘A few + more sales like yours, my Prince, and my son, the Count of Fossati, will + have half a million. He will enter the club and address you with the + familiar ‘thou’ when playing ‘goffo’ against you. That is what there is in + this gia (already).... On my honor, I have not been happier than since I + have, not a sou.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an optimist, Prince,” said Hafner, “and whatsoever our friend + Dorsenne here present may claim, it is necessary to be optimistic.” + </p> + <p> + “You are attacking him again, father,” interrupted Fanny, in a tone of + respectful reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Not the man,” returned the Baron, “but his ideas—yes, and above all + those of his school.... Yes, yes,” he continued, either wishing to change + the conversation, which Ardea persisted in turning upon his ruin, or + finding very well organized a world in which strokes like that of the + Credit Austro-Dalmate are possible, he really felt a deep aversion to the + melancholy and pessimism with which Julien’s works were tinged. And he + continued: “On listening to you, Ardea, just now, and on seeing this great + writer enter, I am reminded by contrast of the fashion now in vogue of + seeing life in a gloomy light.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you find it very gay?” asked Alba, brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Hafner; “I was sure that, in talking against pessimism, I + should make the Contessina talk.... Very gay?” he continued. “No. But when + I think of the misfortunes which might have come to all of us here, for + instance, I find it very tolerable. Better than living in another epoch, + for example. One hundred and fifty years ago, Contessina, in Venice, you + would have been liable to arrest any day under a warrant of the Council of + Ten.... And you, Dorsenne, would have been exposed to the cudgel like + Monsieur de Voltaire, by some jealous lord.... And Prince d’Ardea would + have run the risk of being assassinated or beheaded at each change of + Pope. And I, in my quality of Protestant, should have been driven from + France, persecuted in Austria, molested in Italy, burned in Spain.” + </p> + <p> + As can be seen, he took care to choose between his two inheritances. He + had done so with an enigmatical good-nature which was almost ironical. He + paused, in order not to mention what might have come to Madame Maitland + before the suppression of slavery. He knew that the very pretty and + elegant young lady shared the prejudices of her American compatriots + against negro blood, and that she made every effort to hide the blemish + upon her birth to the point of never removing her gloves. It may, however, + in justice be added, that the slightly olive tinge in her complexion, her + wavy hair, and a vague bluish reflection in the whites of her eyes would + scarcely have betrayed the mixture of race. She did not seem to have + heeded the Baron’s pause, but she arranged, with an absent air, the folds + of her mauve gown, while Dorsenne replied: “It is a fine and specious + argument.... Its only fault is that it has no foundation. For I defy you + to imagine yourself what you would have been in the epoch of which you + speak. We say frequently, ‘If I had lived a hundred years ago.’ We forget + that a hundred years ago we should not have been the same; that we should + not have had the same ideas, the same tastes, nor the same requirements. + It is almost the same as imagining that you could think like a bird or a + serpent.” + </p> + <p> + “One could very well imagine what it would be never to have been born,” + interrupted. Alba Steno. + </p> + <p> + She uttered the sentence in so peculiar a manner that the discussion begun + by Hafner was nipped in the bud. + </p> + <p> + The words produced their effect upon the chatter of the idlers who only + partly believed in the ideas they put forth. Although there is always a + paradox in condemning life amid a scene of luxury when one is not more + than twenty, the Contessina was evidently sincere. Whence came that + sincerity? From what corner of her youthful heart, wounded almost to + death? Dorsenne was the only person who asked himself the question, for + the conversation turned at once, Lydia Maitland having touched with her + fan the sleeve of Alba, who was two seats from her, to ask her this + question with an irony as charming, after the young girl’s words, as it + was involuntary: + </p> + <p> + “It is silk muslin, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Contessina, who rose and leaned over, to offer to the + curious gaze of her pretty neighbor her arm, which gleamed frail, nervous, + and softly fair through the transparent red material, with a bow of ribbon + of the same color tied at her slender shoulder and her graceful wrist, + while Ardea, by the side of Fanny, could be heard saying to the daughter + of Baron Justus, more beautiful than ever that evening, in her pallor + slightly tinged with pink by some secret agitation: + </p> + <p> + “You visited my palace yesterday, Mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Ask her why not, Prince,” said Hafner. + </p> + <p> + “Father!” cried Fanny, with a supplication in her black eyes which Ardea + had the delicacy to obey, as he resumed: + </p> + <p> + “It is a pity. Everything there is very ordinary. But you would have been + interested in the chapel. Indeed, I regret that the most, those objects + before which my ancestors have prayed so long and which end by being + listed in a catalogue.... They even took the reliquary from me, because it + was by Ugolina da Siena. I will buy it back as soon as I can. Your father + applauds my courage. I could not part from those objects without real + sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is the feeling she has for the entire palace,” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Father!” again implored Fanny. + </p> + <p> + “Come, compose yourself, I will not betray you,” said Hafner, while Alba, + taking advantage of having risen, left the group. She walked toward a + table at the other extremity of the room, set in the style of an English + table, with tea and iced drinks, saying to Julien, who followed her: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I prepare your brandy and soda, Dorsenne?” + </p> + <p> + “What ails you, Contessina?” asked the young man, in a whisper, when they + were alone near the plateau of crystal and the collection of silver, which + gleamed so brightly in the dimly lighted part of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he persisted, “what ails you? Are you still vexed with me?” + </p> + <p> + “With you?” said she. “I have never been. Why should I be?” she repeated. + “You have done nothing to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Some one has wounded you?” asked Julien. + </p> + <p> + He saw that she was sincere, and that she scarcely remembered the + ill-humor of the preceding day. “You can not deceive a friend such as I + am,” he continued. “On seeing you fan yourself, I knew that you had some + annoyance. I know you so well.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no annoyance,” she replied, with an impatient frown. “I can not + bear to hear lies of a certain kind. That is all!” + </p> + <p> + “And who has lied?” resumed Dorsenne. + </p> + <p> + “Did you not hear Ardea speak of his chapel just now, he who believes in + God as little as Hafner, of whom no one knows whether he is a Jew or a + Gentile!... Did you not see poor Fanny look at him the while? And did you + not remark with what tact the Baron made the allusion to the delicacy + which had prevented his daughter from visiting the Palais Castagna with + us? And did that comedy enacted between the two men give you no food for + thought?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that why Peppino is here?” asked Julien. “Is there a plan on foot for + the marriage of the heiress of Papa Hafner’s millions and the grand-nephew + of Pope Urban VII? That will furnish me with a fine subject of + conversation with some one of my acquaintance!”.... And the mere thought + of Montfanon learning such news caused him to laugh heartily, while he + continued, “Do not look at me so indignantly, dear Contessina. But I see + nothing so sad in the story. Fanny to marry Peppino? Why not? You yourself + have told me that she is partly Catholic, and that her father is only + awaiting her marriage to have her baptized. She will be happy then. Ardea + will keep the magnificent palace we saw yesterday, and the Baron will + crown his career in giving to a man ruined on the Bourse, in the form of a + dowry, that which he has taken from others.” + </p> + <p> + “Be silent,” said the young girl, in a very grave voice, “you inspire me + with horror. That Ardea should have lost all scruples, and that he should + wish to sell his title of a Roman prince at as high a price as possible, + to no matter what bidder, is so much the more a matter of indifference, + for we Venetians do not allow ourselves to be imposed upon by the Roman + nobility. We all had Doges in our families when the fathers of these + people were bandits in the country, waiting for some poor monk of their + name to become Pope. That Baron Hafner sells his daughter as he once sold + her jewels is also a matter of indifference to me. But you do not know + her. You do not know what a creature, charming and enthusiastic, simple + and sincere, she is, and who will never, never mistrust that, first of + all, her father is a thief, and, then, that he is selling her like a + trinket in order to have grand-children who shall be at the same time + grandnephews of the Pope, and, finally, that Peppino does not love her, + that he wants her dowry, and that he will have for her as little feeling + as they have for her.” She glanced at Madame Maitland. “It is worse than I + can tell you,” she said, enigmatically, as if vexed by her own words, and + almost frightened by them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Julien, “it would be very sad; but are you sure that you do + not exaggerate the situation? There is not so much calculation in life. It + is more mediocre and more facile. Perhaps the Prince and the Baron have a + vague project.” + </p> + <p> + “A vague project?” interrupted Alba, shrugging her shoulders. “There is + never anything vague with a Hafner, you may depend. What if I were to tell + you that I am positive—do you hear—positive that it is he who + holds between his fingers the largest part of the Prince’s debts, and that + he caused the sale by Ancona to obtain the bargain?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible!” exclaimed Dorsenne. “You saw him yourself yesterday + thinking of buying this and that object.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not make me say any more,” said Alba, passing over her brow and her + eyes two or three times her hand, upon which no ring sparkled—that + hand, very supple and white, whose movements betrayed extreme nervousness. + “I have already said too much. It is not my business, and poor Fanny is + only to me a recent friend, although I think her very attractive and + affectionate.... When I think that she is on the point of pledging herself + for life, and that there is no one, that there can be no one, to cry: They + lie to you! I am filled with compassion. That is all. It is childish!” + </p> + <p> + It is always painful to observe in a young person the exact perception of + the sinister dealings of life, which, once entered into the mind, never + allows of the carelessness so natural at the age of twenty. + </p> + <p> + The impression of premature disenchantment Alba Steno had many times given + to Dorsenne, and it had indeed been the principal attraction to the + curious observer of the feminine character, who still was struck by the + terrible absence of illusion which such a view of the projects of Fanny’s + father revealed. Whence did she know them? Evidently from Madame Steno + herself. Either the Baron and the Countess had talked of them before the + young girl too openly to leave her in any doubt, or she had divined what + they did not tell her, through their conversation. On seeing her thus, + with her bitter mouth, her bright eyes, so visibly a prey to the fever of + suppressed loathing, Dorsenne again was impressed by the thought of her + perfect perspicacity. It was probable that she had applied the same force + of thought to her mother’s conduct. It seemed to him that on raising, as + she was doing, the wick of the silver lamp beneath the large teakettle, + that she was glancing sidewise at the terrace, where the end of the + Countess’s white robe could be seen through the shadow. Suddenly the mad + thoughts which had so greatly agitated him on the previous day possessed + him again, and the plan he had formed of imitating his model, Hamlet, in + playing in Madame Steno’s salon the role of the Danish prince before his + uncle occurred to him. Absently, with his customary air of indifference, + he continued: + </p> + <p> + “Rest assured, Ardea does not lack enemies. Hafner, too, has plenty of + them. Some one will be found to denounce their plot, if there is a plot, + to lovely Fanny. An anonymous letter is so quickly written.” + </p> + <p> + He had no sooner uttered those words than he interrupted himself with the + start of a man who handles a weapon which he thinks unloaded and which + suddenly discharges. + </p> + <p> + It was, really, to discharge a duty in the face of his own scepticism that + he had spoken thus, and he did not expect to see another shade of sadness + flit across Alba’s mobile and proud face. + </p> + <p> + There was in the corners of her mouth more disgust, her eyes expressed + more scorn, while her hands, busy preparing the tea, trembled as she said, + with an accent so agitated that her friend regretted his cruel plan: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Do not speak of it! It would be still worse than her present + ignorance. At least, now she knows nothing, and if some miserable person + were to do as you say she would know in part without being sure.... How + could you smile at such a supposition?... No! Poor, gentle Fanny! I hope + she will receive no anonymous letters. They are so cowardly and make so + much trouble!” + </p> + <p> + “I ask your pardon if I have wounded you,” replied Dorsenne. He had + touched, he felt it, a tender spot in that heart, and perceived with grief + that not only had Alba Steno not written the anonymous letters addressed + to Gorka, but that, on the contrary, she had received some herself. From + whom? Who was the mysterious denunciator who had warned in that abominable + manner the daughter of Madame Steno after the lover? Julien shuddered as + he continued: “If I smiled, it was because I believe Mademoiselle Hafner, + in case the misfortune should come to her, sensible enough to treat such + advice as it merits. An anonymous letter does not deserve to be read. Any + one infamous enough to make use of weapons of that sort does not deserve + that one should do him the honor even to glance at what he has written.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not so?” said the girl. There was in her eyes, the pupils of which + suddenly dilated, a gleam of genuine gratitude which convinced her + companion that he had seen correctly. He had uttered just the words of + which she had need. In the face of that proof, he was suddenly overwhelmed + by an access of shame and of pity—of shame, because in his thoughts + he had insulted the unhappy girl—of pity, because she had to suffer + a blow so cruel, if, indeed, her mother had been exposed to her. It must + have been on the preceding afternoon or that very morning that she had + received the horrible letter, for, during the visit to the Palais + Castagna, she had been, by turns, gay and quiet, but so childish, while on + that particular evening it was no longer the child who suffered, but the + woman. Dorsenne resumed: + </p> + <p> + “You see, we writers are exposed to those abominations. A book which + succeeds, a piece which pleases, an article which is extolled, calls forth + from the envious unsigned letters which wound us or those whom we love. In + such cases, I repeat, I burn them unread, and if ever in your life such + come to you, listen to me, little Countess, and follow the advice of your + friend, Dorsenne, for he is your friend; you know it, do you not, your + true friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I receive anonymous letters?” asked the girl, quickly. “I have + neither fame, beauty, nor wealth, and am not to be envied.” + </p> + <p> + As Dorsenne looked at her, regretting that he had said so much, she forced + her sad lips to smile, and added: “If you are really my friend, instead of + making me lose time by your advice, of which I shall probably never have + need, for I shall never become a great authoress, help me to serve the + tea, will you? It should be ready.” And with her slender fingers she + raised the lid of the kettle, saying: “Go and ask Madame Maitland if she + will take some tea this evening, and Fanny, too.... Ardea takes whiskey + and the Baron mineral water.... You can ring for his glass of vichy.... + There.... You have delayed me.... There are more callers and nothing is + ready.... Ah,” she cried, “it is Maud!”—then, with surprise, “and + her husband!” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the folding doors of the hall opened to admit Maud Gorka, a robust + British beauty, radiant with happiness, attired in a gown of black crepe + de Chine with orange ribbons, which set off to advantage her fresh color. + Behind her came Boleslas. But he was no longer the traveller who, + thirty-six hours before, had arrived at the Place de la Trinite-des-Monts, + mad with anxiety, wild with jealousy, soiled by the dust of travel, his + hair disordered, his hands and face dirty. It was, though somewhat + thinner, the elegant Gorka whom Dorsenne had known—tall, slender, + and perfumed, in full dress, a bouquet in his buttonhole, his lips + smiling. To the novelist, knowing what he knew, the smile and the + composure had something in them more terrible than the frenzy of the day + before. He comprehended it by the manner in which the Pole gave him his + hand. One night and a day of reflection had undermined his work, and if + Boleslas had enacted the comedy to the point of lulling his wife’s + suspicions and of deciding on the visit of that evening, it was because he + had resolved not to consult any one and to lead his own inquiry. He was + succeeding in the beginning; he had certainly perceived Madame Steno’s + white gown upon the terrace, while radiant Maud explained his unexpected + return with her usual ingenuousness. + </p> + <p> + “This is what comes of sending to a doting father accounts of our boy’s + health.... I wrote him the other day that Luc had a little fever. He wrote + to ask about its progress. I did not receive his letter. He became uneasy, + and here he is.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell mamma,” said Alba, passing out upon the terrace, but her + haste seemed too slow to Dorsenne. He had such a presentiment of danger + that he did not think of smiling, as he would have done on any other + occasion, at the absolute success of the deception which he and Boleslas + had planned on the preceding day, and of which the Count had said, with a + fatuity now proven: “Maud will be so happy to see me that she will believe + all.” + </p> + <p> + It was a scene both simple and tragical—of that order in which in + society the most horrible incidents occur without a sound, without a + gesture, amid phrases of conventionality and in a festal framework! Two of + the spectators, at least, besides Julien, understood its importance-Ardea + and Hafner. For neither the one nor the other had failed to notice the + relations between Madame Steno and Maitland, much less her position with + regard to Gorka. The writer, the grand seigneur, and the business man had, + notwithstanding the differences of age and of position, a large experience + of analogous circumstances. + </p> + <p> + They knew of what presence of mind a courageous woman was capable, when + surprised, as was the Venetian. All these have declared since that they + had never imagined more admirable self-possession, a composure more + superbly audacious, than that displayed by Madame Steno, at that decisive + moment. She appeared on the threshold of the French window, surprised and + delighted, just in the measure she conformably should be. Her fair + complexion, which the slightest emotion tinged with carmine, was + bewitchingly pink. Not a quiver of her long lashes veiled her deep blue + eyes, which gleamed brightly. With her smile, which exhibited her lovely + teeth, the color of the large pearls which were twined about her neck, + with the emeralds in her fair hair, with her fine shoulders displayed by + the slope of her white corsage, with her delicate waist, with the splendor + of her arms from which she had removed the gloves to yield them to the + caresses of Maitland, and which gleamed with more emeralds, with her + carriage marked by a certain haughtiness, she was truly a woman of another + age, the sister of those radiant princesses whom the painters of Venice + evoke beneath the marble porticoes, among apostles and martyrs. She + advanced to Maud Gorka, whom she embraced affectionately, then, pressing + Boleslas’s hand, she said in a voice so warm, in which at times there were + deep tones, softened by the habitual use of the caressing dialect of the + lagoon: + </p> + <p> + “What a surprise! And you could not come to dine with us? Well, sit down, + both of you, and relate to me the Odyssey of the traveller,” and, turning + toward Maitland, who had followed her into the salon with the insolent + composure of a giant and of a lover: + </p> + <p> + “Be kind, my little Linco, and fetch me my fan and my gloves, which I left + on the couch.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment Dorsenne, who had only one fear, that of meeting Gorka’s + eyes—he could not have borne their glance—was again by the + side of Alba Steno. The young girl’s face, just now so troubled, was + radiant. It seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from the pretty + Contessina’s mind. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child,” thought the writer, “she would not think her mother could be + so calm were she guilty. The Countess’s manner is the reply to the + anonymous letter. Have they written all to her? My God! Who can it be?” + </p> + <p> + And he fell into a deep revery, interrupted only by the hum of the + conversation, in which he did not participate. It would have satisfied him + had he observed, instead of meditated, that the truth with regard to the + author of the anonymous letters might have become clear to him, as clear + as the courage of Madame Steno in meeting danger—as the blind + confidence of Madame Gorka—as the disdainful imperturbability of + Maitland before his rival and the suppressed rage of that rival—as + the finesse of Hafner in sustaining the general conversation—as the + assiduous attentions of Ardea to Fanny—as the emotion of the latter—as + clear as Alba’s sense of relief. All those faces, on Boleslas’s entrance, + had expressed different feelings. Only one had, for several minutes, + expressed the joy of crime and the avidity of ultimately satisfied hatred. + But as it was that of little Madame Maitland, the silent creature, + considered so constantly by him as stupid and insignificant, Dorsenne had + not paid more attention to it than had the other witnesses the surprising + reappearance of the betrayed lover. + </p> + <p> + Every country has a metaphor to express the idea that there is no worse + water than that which is stagnant. Still waters run deep, say the English, + and the Italians, Still waters ruin bridges. + </p> + <p> + These adages would not be accurate if one did not forget them in practise, + and the professional analyst of the feminine heart had entirely forgotten + them on that evening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. COUNTESS STENO + </h2> + <p> + A woman less courageous than the Countess, less capable of looking a + situation in the face and of advancing to it, such an evening would have + marked the prelude to one of those nights of insomnia when the mind + exhausts in advance all the agonies of probable danger. Countess Steno did + not know what weakness and fear were. + </p> + <p> + A creature of energy and of action, who felt herself to be above all + danger, she attached no meaning to the word uneasiness. So she slept, on + the night which followed that soiree, a sleep as profound, as refreshing, + as if Gorka had never returned with vengeance in his heart, with threats + in his eyes. Toward ten o’clock the following morning, she was in the tiny + salon, or rather, the office adjoining her bedroom, examining several + accounts brought by one of her men of business. Rising at seven o’clock, + according to her custom, she had taken the cold bath in which, in summer + as well as winter, she daily quickened her blood. She had breakfasted, ‘a + l’anglaise’, following the rule to which she claimed to owe the + preservation of her digestion, upon eggs, cold meat, and tea. She had made + her complicated toilette, had visited her daughter to ascertain how she + had slept, had written five letters, for her cosmopolitan salon compelled + her to carry on an immense correspondence, which radiated between Cairo + and New York, St. Petersburg and Bombay, taking in Munich, London, and + Madeira, and she was as faithful in friendship as she was inconstant in + love. Her large handwriting, so elegant in its composition, had covered + pages and pages before she said: “I have a rendezvous at eleven o’clock + with Maitland. Ardea will be here at ten to talk of his marriage. I have + accounts from Finoli to examine. I hope that Gorka will not come, too, + this morning.”.... Persons in whom the feeling of love is very complete, + but very physical, are thus. They give themselves and take themselves back + altogether. The Countess experienced no more pity than fear in thinking of + her betrayed lover. She had determined to say to him, “I no longer love + you,” frankly, openly, and to offer him his choice between a final rupture + or a firm friendship. + </p> + <p> + The only annoyance depended upon the word of explanation, which she + desired to see postponed until afternoon, when she would be free, an + annoyance which, however, did not prevent her from examining with her + usual accuracy the additions and multiplications of her intendant, who + stood near her with a face such as Bonifagio gave to his Pharisees. He + managed the seven hundred hectares of Piove, near Padua, Madame Steno’s + favorite estate. She had increased the revenue from it tenfold, by the + draining of a sterile and often malignant lagoon, which, situated a metre + below the water-level, had proved of surprising fertility; and she + calculated the probable operations for weeks in advance with the detailed + and precise knowledge of rural cultivation which is the characteristic of + the Italian aristocracy and the permanent cause of its vitality. + </p> + <p> + “Then you estimate the gain from the silkworms at about fifty kilos of + cocoons to an ounce?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellency,” replied the intendant. + </p> + <p> + “One hundred ounces of yellow; one hundred times fifty makes five + thousand,” resumed the Countess. “At four francs fifty?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps five, Excellency,” said the intendant. + </p> + <p> + “Let us say twenty-two thousand five hundred,” said the Countess, “and as + much for the Japanese.... That will bring us in our outlay for building.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellency. And about the wine?” + </p> + <p> + “I am of the opinion, after what you have told me of the vineyard, that + you should sell as quickly as possible to Kauffmann’s agent all that + remains of the last crop, but not at less than six francs. You know it is + necessary that our casks be emptied and cleaned after the month of + August.... If we were to fail this time, for the first year that we + manufacture our wine with the new machine, it would be too bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Excellency. And the horses?” + </p> + <p> + “I think that is an opportunity we should not let escape. My advice is + that you take the express to Florence to-day at two o’clock. You will + reach Verona to-morrow morning. You will conclude the bargain. The horses + will be sent to Piove the same evening.... + </p> + <p> + “We have finished just in time,” she continued, arranging the intendant’s + papers. She put them herself in their envelope, which she gave him. She + had an extremely delicate sense of hearing, and she knew that the door of + the antechamber opened. It seemed that the administrator took away in his + portfolio all the preoccupation of this extraordinary woman. For, after + concluding that dry conversation, or rather that monologue, she had her + clearest and brightest smile with which to receive the new arrival, who + was, fortunately, Prince d’Ardea. She said to the servant: + </p> + <p> + “I wish to speak with the Prince. If any one asks for me, do not admit him + and do not send any one hither. Bring me the card.” Then, turning toward + the young man, “Well, Simpaticone,” it was the nickname she gave him, “how + did you finish your evening?” + </p> + <p> + “You would not believe me,” replied Peppino Ardea, laughing; “I, who no + longer have anything, not even my bed. I went to the club and I played.... + For the first time in my life I won.” + </p> + <p> + He was so gay in relating his childish prank, he jested so merrily about + his ruin, that the Countess looked at him in surprise, as he had looked at + her on entering.... We understand ourselves so little, and we know so + little about our own singularities of character, that each one was + surprised at finding the other so calm. Ardea could not comprehend that + Madame Steno should not be at least uneasy about Gorka’s return and the + consequences which might result therefrom. She, on the other hand, admired + the strange youth who, in his misfortune, could find such joviality at his + command. He had evidently expended as much care upon his toilette as if he + had not to take some immediate steps to assure his future, and his + waistcoat, the color of his shirt, his cravat, his yellow shoes, the + flower in his buttonhole, all united to make of him an amiable and + incorrigibly frivolous dandy. She felt the need which strong characters + have in the presence of weak ones; that of acting for the youth, of aiding + him in spite of himself, and she attacked at once the question of marriage + with Fanny Hafner. With her usual common-sense, and with her instinct of + arranging everything, Madame Steno perceived in the union so many + advantages for every one that she was in haste to conclude it as quickly + as if it involved a personal affair. + </p> + <p> + The marriage was earnestly desired by the Baron, who had spoken of it to + her for months. It suited Fanny, who would be converted to Catholicism + with the consent of her father. It suited the Prince, who at one stroke + would be freed from his embarrassment. Finally, it suited the name of + Castagna. Although Peppino was its only representative at that time, and + as, by an old family tradition, he bore a title different from the + patronymic title of Pope Urban VII, the sale of the celebrated palace had + called forth a scandal to which it was essential to put an end. The + Countess had forgotten that she had assisted, without a protestation, in + that sale. Had she not known through Hafner that he had bought at a low + price an enormous heap of the Prince’s bills of exchange? Did she not know + the Baron well enough to be sure that M. Noe Ancona, the implacable + creditor who sold the palace, was only the catspaw of this terrible + friend? In a fit of ill-humor at the Baron, had she not herself accused + him in Alba’s presence of this very simple plan, to bring Ardea to a final + catastrophe in order to offer him salvation in the form of the union with + Fanny, and to execute at the same time an excellent operation? For, once + freed from the mortgages which burdened them, the Prince’s lands and + buildings would regain their true value, and the imprudent speculator + would find himself again as rich, perhaps richer. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Madame Steno to the Prince, after a moment’s silence and + without any preamble, “it is now time to talk business. You dined by the + side of my little friend yesterday; you had the entire evening in which to + study her. Answer me frankly, would she not make the prettiest little + Roman princess who could kneel in her wedding-gown at the tomb of the + apostles? Can you not see her in her white gown, under her veil, alighting + at the staircase of Saint Peter’s from the carriage with the superb horses + which her father has given her? Close your eyes and see her in your + thoughts. Would she not be pretty? Would she not?” + </p> + <p> + “Very pretty,” replied Ardea, smiling at the tempting vision Madame Steno + had conjured up, “but she is not fair. And you know, to me, a woman who is + not fair—ah, Countess! What a pity that in Venice, five years ago, + on a certain evening—do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “How much like you that is!” interrupted she, laughing her deep, clear + laugh. “You came to see me this morning to talk to me of a marriage, + unhoped for with your reputation of gamester, of supper-giver, of ‘mauvais + sujet’; of a marriage which fulfils conditions most improbable, so perfect + are they—beauty, youth, intelligence, fortune, and even, if I have + read my little friend aright, the beginning of an interest, of a very deep + interest. And, for a little, you would make a declaration to me. Come, + come!” and she extended to him for a kiss her beautiful hand, on which + gleamed large emeralds. “You are forgiven. But answer—yes or no. + Shall I make the proposal? If it is yes, I will go to the Palace Savorelli + at two o’clock. I will speak to my friend Hafner. He will speak to his + daughter, and it will not depend upon me if you have not their reply this + evening or to-morrow morning. Is it yes? Is it no?” + </p> + <p> + “This evening? To-morrow?” exclaimed the Prince, shaking his head with a + most comical gesture. “I can not decide like that. It is an ambush! I come + to talk, to consult you.” + </p> + <p> + “And on what?” asked Madame Steno, with a vivacity almost impatient. “Can + I tell you anything you do not already know? In twenty-four hours, in + forty-eight, in six months, what difference will there be, I pray you? We + must look at things as they are, however. To-morrow, the day after, the + following days, will you be less embarrassed?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Prince, “but—” + </p> + <p> + “There is no but,” she resumed, allowing him to say no more than she had + allowed her intendant. The despotism natural to puissant personalities + scorned to be disguised in her, when there were practical decisions in + which she was to take part. “The only serious objection you made to me + when I spoke to you of this marriage six months ago was that Fanny was not + a Catholic. I know today that she has only to be asked to be converted. So + do not let us speak of that.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Prince, “but—” + </p> + <p> + “As for Hafner,” continued the Countess, “you will say he is my friend and + that I am partial, but that partiality even is an opinion. He is precisely + the father-in-law you need. Do not shake your head. He will repair all + that needs repairing in your fortune. You have been robbed, my poor + Peppino. You told me so yourself.... Become the Baron’s son-in-law, and + you will have news of your robbers. I know.... There is the Baron’s origin + and the suit of ten years ago with all the ‘pettogolezzi’ to which it gave + rise. All that has not the common meaning. The Baron began life in a small + way. He was from a family of Jewish origin—you see, I do not deceive + you—but converted two generations back, so that the story of his + change of religion since his stay in Italy is a calumny, like the rest. He + had a suit in which he was acquitted. You would not require more than the + law, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but—” + </p> + <p> + “For what are you waiting, then?” concluded Madame Steno. “That it may be + too late? How about your lands?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! let me breathe, let me fan myself,” said Ardea, who, indeed, took one + of the Countess’s fans from the desk. “I, who have never known in the + morning what I would do in the evening, I, who have always lived according + to my pleasure, you ask me to take in five minutes the resolution to bind + myself forever!” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you to decide what you wish to do,” returned the Countess. “It is + very amusing to travel at one’s pleasure. But when it is a question of + arranging one’s life, this childishness is too absurd. I know of only one + way: to see one’s aim and to march directly to it. Yours is very clear—to + get out of this dilemma. The way is not less clear; it is marriage with a + girl who has five millions dowry. Yes or no, will you have her?... Ah,” + said she, suddenly interrupting herself, “I shall not have a moment to + myself this morning, and I have an appointment at eleven o’clock!”.... She + looked at the timepiece on her table, which indicated twenty-five minutes + past ten. She had heard the door open. The footman was already before her + and presented to her a card upon a salver. She took the card, looked at + it, frowned, glanced again at the clock, seemed to hesitate, then: “Let + him wait in the small salon, and say that I will be there immediately,” + said she, and turning again toward Ardea: “You think you have escaped. You + have not. I do not give you permission to go before I return. I shall + return in fifteen minutes. Would you like some newspapers? There are some. + Books? There are some. Tobacco? This box is filled with cigars.... In a + quarter of an hour I shall be here and I will have your reply. I wish it, + do you hear? I wish it”.... And on the threshold with another smile, using + that time a term of patois common in Northern Italy and which is only a + corruption of ‘schiavo’ or servant: ‘Ciao Simpaticone.’ + </p> + <p> + “What a woman!” said Peppino Ardea, when the door was closed upon the + Countess. “Yes, what a pity that five years ago in Venice I was not free! + Who knows? If I had dared, when she took me to my hotel in her gondola. + She was about to leave San Giobbe. She had not yet accepted Boleslas. She + would have advised—have directed me. I should have speculated on the + Bourse, as she did, with Hafner’s counsel. But not in the quality of + son-in-law. I should not have been obliged to marry. And she would not now + have such bad tobacco.”.... He was on the point of lighting one of the + Virginian cigarettes, a present from Maitland. He threw it away, making a + grimace with his air of a spoiled child, at the risk of scorching the rug + which lay upon the marble floor; and he passed into the antechamber in + order to fetch his own case in the pocket of the light overcoat he had + prudently taken on coming out after eight o’clock. + </p> + <p> + As he lighted one of the cigarettes in that case, filled with so-called + Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and saltpetre, which he preferred to + the tobacco of the American, he mechanically glanced at the card which the + servant had left on going from the room-the card of the unknown visitor + for whom Madame Steno had left him. + </p> + <p> + Ardea read upon it, with astonishment, these words: + </p> + <p> + Count Boleslas Gorka. + </p> + <p> + “She is better than I thought her,” said he, on reentering the deserted + office. “She had no need to bid me not to go. I think I should wait to see + her return from that conversation.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed Boleslas whom the Countess found in the salon, which she had + chosen as the room the most convenient for the stormy explanation she + anticipated. It was isolated at the end of the hall, and was like a + pendant to the terrace. It formed, with the dining-room, the entire + ground-floor, or, rather, the entresol of the house. Madame Steno’s + apartments, as well as the other small salon in which Peppino was, were on + the first floor, together with the rooms set apart for the Contessina and + her German governess, Fraulein Weber, for the time being on a journey. + </p> + <p> + The Countess had not been mistaken. At the first glance exchanged on the + preceding day with Gorka, she had divined that he knew all. She would have + suspected it, nevertheless, since Hafner had told her the few words + indiscreetly uttered by Dorsenne on the clandestine return of the Pole to + Rome. She had not at that time been mistaken in Boleslas’s intentions, and + she had no sooner looked in his face than she felt herself to be in peril. + When a man has been the lover of a woman as that man had been hers, with + the vibrating communion of a voluptuousness unbroken for two years, that + woman maintains a sort of physiological, quasi-animal instinct. A gesture, + the accent of a word, a sigh, a blush, a pallor, are signs for her that + her intuition interprets with infallible certainty. How and why is that + instinct accompanied by absolute oblivion of former caresses? It is a + particular case of that insoluble and melancholy problem of the birth and + death of love. Madame Steno had no taste for reflection of that order. + Like all vigorous and simple creatures, she acknowledged and accepted it. + As on the previous day, she became aware that the presence of her former + lover no longer touched in her being the chord which had rendered her so + weak to him during twenty-five months, so indulgent to his slightest + caprices. It left her as cold as the marble of the bas-relief by Mino da + Fiesole fitted into the wall just above the high chair upon which he + leaned. + </p> + <p> + Boleslas, notwithstanding the paroxysm of lucid fury which he suffered at + that moment, and which rendered him capable of the worst violence, had on + his part a knowledge of the complete insensibility in which his presence + left her. He had seen her so often, in the course of their long liaison, + arrive at their morning rendezvous at that hour, in similar toilettes, so + fresh, so supple, so youthful in her maturity, so eager for kisses, tender + and ardent. She had now in her blue eyes, in her smile, in her entire + person, some thing at once so gracious and so inaccessible, which gives to + an abandoned lover the mad longing to strike, to murder, a woman who + smiles at him with such a smile. At the same time she was so beautiful in + the morning light, subdued by the lowered blinds, that she inspired him + with an equal desire to clasp her in his arms whether she would or no. He + had recognized, when she entered the room, the aroma of a preparation + which she had used in her bath, and that trifle alone had aroused his + passion far more than when the servant told him Madame Steno was engaged, + and he wondered whether she was not alone with Maitland. Those + impassioned, but suppressed, feelings trembled in the accent of the very + simple phrase with which he greeted her. At certain moments, words are + nothing; it is the tone in which they are uttered. And to the Countess + that of the young man was terrible. + </p> + <p> + “I am disturbing you?” he asked, bowing and barely touching with the tips + of his fingers the hand she had extended to him on entering. “Excuse me, I + thought you alone. Will you be pleased to name another time for the + conversation which I take the liberty of demanding?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she replied, not permitting him to finish his sentence. “I was + with Peppino Ardea, who will await me,” said she, gently. “Moreover, you + know I am in all things for the immediate. When one has something to say, + it should be said, one, two, three?... First, there is not much to say, + and then it is better said.... There is nothing that will sooner render + difficult easy explanations and embroil the best of friends than delay and + maintaining silence.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very happy to find you in such a mind,” replied Boleslas, with a + sarcasm which distorted his handsome face into a smile of atrocious + hatred. The good-nature displayed by her cut him to the heart, and he + continued, already less self-possessed: “It is indeed an explanation which + I think I have the right to ask of you, and which I have come to claim.” + </p> + <p> + “To claim, my dear?” said the Countess, looking him fixedly in the face + without lowering her proud eyes, in which those imperative words had + kindled a flame. + </p> + <p> + If she had been admirable the preceding evening in facing as she had done + the return of her discarded lover, on coming direct from the tete-a-tete + with her new one, perhaps, at that moment, she was doubly so, when she did + not have her group of intimate friends to support her. She was not sure + that the madman who confronted her was not armed, and she believed him + perfectly capable of killing her, while she could not defend herself. But + a part had to be played sooner or later, and she played it without + flinching. She had not spoken an untruth in saying to Peppino Ardea: “I + know only one way: to see one’s aim and to march directly to it.” She + wanted a definitive rupture with Boleslas. Why should she hesitate as to + the means? + </p> + <p> + She was silent, seeking for words. He continued: + </p> + <p> + “Will you permit me to go back three months, although that is, it seems, a + long space of time for a woman’s memory? I do not know whether you recall + our last meeting? Pardon, I meant to say the last but one, since we met + last night. Do you concede that the manner in which we parted then did not + presage the manner in which we met?” + </p> + <p> + “I concede it,” said the Countess, with a gleam of angry pride in her + eyes, “although I do not very much like your style of expression. It is + the second time you have addressed me as an accuser, and if you assume + that attitude it will be useless to continue.” + </p> + <p> + “Catherine!”.... That cry of the young man, whose anger was increasing, + decided her whom he thus addressed to precipitate the issue of a + conversation in which each reply was to be a fresh burst of rancor. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she inquired, crossing her arms in a manner so imperious that he + paused in his menace, and she continued: “Listen, Boleslas, we have talked + ten minutes without saying anything, because neither of us has the courage + to put the question such as we know and feel it to be. Instead of writing + to me, as you did, letters which rendered replies impossible to me; + instead of returning to Rome and hiding yourself like a malefactor; + instead of coming to my home last night with that threatening face; + instead of approaching me this morning with the solemnity of a judge, why + did you not question me simply, frankly, as one who knows that I have + loved him very, very much?... Having been lovers, is that a reason for + detesting each other when we cease those relations?” + </p> + <p> + “‘When we cease those relations!’” replied Gorka. “So you no longer love + me? Ah, I knew it; I guessed it after the first week of that fatal + absence! But to think that you should tell it to me some day like that, in + that calm voice which is a horrible blasphemy for our entire past. No, I + do not believe it. I do not yet believe it. Ah, it is too infamous.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” interrupted the Countess, raising her head with still more + haughtiness.... “There is only one thing infamous in love, and that is a + falsehood. Ah, I know it. You men are not accustomed to meeting true + women, who have the respect, the religion of their sentiment. I have that + respect; I practise that religion. I repeat that I loved you a great deal, + Boleslas. I did not hide it from you formerly. I was as loyal to you as + truth itself. I have the consciousness of being so still, in offering you, + as I do, a firm friendship, the friendship of man for man, who only asks + to prove to you the sincerity of his devotion.” + </p> + <p> + “I, a friendship with you, I—I—I?” exclaimed Boleslas. “Have I + had enough patience in listening to you as I have listened? I heard you + lie to me and scented the lie in the same breath. Why do you not ask me as + well to form a friendship for him with whom you have replaced me? Ah, so + you think I am blind, and you fancy I did not see that Maitland near you, + and that I did not know at the first glance what part he was playing in + your life? You did not think I might have good reasons for returning as I + did? You did not know that one does not dally with one whom one loves as I + love you?... It is not true.... You have not been loyal to me, since you + took this man for a lover while you were still my mistress. You had not + the right, no, no, no, you had not the right!... And what a man!... If it + had been Ardea, Dorsenne, no matter whom, that I might not blush for + you.... But that brute, that idiot, who has nothing in his favor, neither + good looks, birth, elegance, mind nor talent, for he has none—he has + nothing but his neck and shoulders of a bull.... It is as if you had + deceived me with a lackey.... No..... it is too terrible.... Ah, + Catherine, swear to me that it is not true. Tell me that you no longer + love me, I will submit, I will go away, I will accept all, provided that + you swear to me you do not love that man—swear, swear!”... he added, + grasping her hands with such violence that she uttered a slight + exclamation, and, disengaging herself, said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Cease; you pain me. You are mad, Gorka; that can be your sole excuse.... + I have nothing to swear to you. What I feel, what I think, what I do no + longer concerns you after what I have told you.... Believe what it pleases + you to believe.... But,” and the irritation of an enamored woman, wounded + in the man she adores, possessed her, “you shall not speak twice of one of + my friends as you have just spoken. You have deeply offended me, and I + will not pardon you. In place of the friendship I offered you so honestly, + we will have no further connections excepting those of society. That is + what you desired.... Try not to render them impossible to yourself. Be + correct at least in form. Remember you have a wife, I have a daughter, and + that we owe it to them to spare them the knowledge of this unhappy + rupture.... God is my witness, I wished to have it otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “My wife! Your daughter!” cried Boleslas with bitterness. “This is indeed + the hour to remember them and to put them between you and my just + vengeance! They never troubled you formerly, the two poor creatures, when + you began to win my love?... It was convenient for you that they should be + friends! And I lent myself to it!... I accepted such baseness—that + to-day you might take shelter behind the two innocents!... No, it shall + not be.... you shall not escape me thus. Since it is the only point on + which I can strike you, I will strike you there. I hold you by that means, + do you hear, and I will keep you. Either you dismiss that man, or I will + no longer respect anything. My wife shall know all! Her! So much the + better! For some time I have been stifled by my lies.... Your daughter, + too, shall know all. She shall judge you now as she would judge you one + day.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he advanced to her with a manner so cruel that she recoiled. A + few more moments and the man would have carried out his threat. He was + about to strike her, to break objects around him, to call forth a terrible + scandal. She had the presence of mind of an audacity more courageous + still. An electric bell was near at hand. She pressed it, while Gorka said + to her, with a scornful laugh, “That was the only affront left you to + offer me—to summon your servants to defend you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” she replied. “I am not afraid. I repeat you are mad, + and I simply wish to prove it to you by recalling you to the reality of + your situation.... Bid Mademoiselle Alba come down,” said she to the + footman whom her ring had summoned. That phrase was the drop of cold water + which suddenly broke the furious jet of vapor. She had found the only + means of putting an end to the terrible scene. For, notwithstanding his + menace, she knew that Maud’s husband always recoiled before the young + girl, the friend of his wife, of whose delicacy and sensibility he was + aware. + </p> + <p> + Gorka was capable of the most dangerous and most cruel deeds, in an excess + of passion augmented by vanity. + </p> + <p> + He had in him a chivalrous element which would paralyze his frenzy before + Alba. As for the immorality of that combination of defence which involved + her daughter in her rupture with a vindictive lover, the Countess did not + think of that. She often said: “She is my comrade, she is my friend.”.... + And she thought so. To lean upon her in that critical moment was only + natural to her. In the tempest of indignation which shook Gorka, the + sudden appeal to innocent Alba appeared to him the last degree of + cynicism. During the short space of time which elapsed between the + departure of the footman and the arrival of the young girl, he only + uttered these words, repeating them as he paced the floor, while his + former mistress defied him with her bold gaze: + </p> + <p> + “I scorn you, I scorn you; ah, how I scorn you!” Then, when he heard the + door open: “We will resume our conversation, Madame.” + </p> + <p> + “When you wish,” replied Countess Steno, and to her daughter, who entered, + she said: “You know the carriage is to come at ten minutes to eleven, and + it is now the quarter. Are you ready?” + </p> + <p> + “You can see,” replied the young girl, displaying her pearl-gray gloves, + which she was just buttoning, while on her head a large hat of black tulle + made a dark and transparent aureole around her fair head. Her delicate + bust was displayed to advantage in the corsage Maitland had chosen for her + portrait, a sort of cuirass of a dark-blue material, finished at the neck + and wrists with bands of velvet of a darker shade. The fine lines of cuffs + and a collar gave to that pure face a grace of youth younger than her age. + </p> + <p> + She had evidently come at her mother’s call, with the haste and the smile + of that age. Then, to see Gorka’s expression and the feverish brilliance + of the Countess’s eyes had given her what she called, in an odd but very + appropriate way, the sensation of “a needle in the heart,” of a sharp, + fine point, which entered her breast to the left. She had slept a sleep so + profound, after the soiree of the day before, on which she had thought she + perceived in her mother’s attitude between the Polish count and the + American painter a proof of certain innocence. + </p> + <p> + She admired her mother so much, she thought her so intelligent, so + beautiful, so good, that to doubt her was a thought not to be borne! There + were times when she doubted her. A terrible conversation about the + Countess, overheard in a ballroom, a conversation between two men, who did + not know Alba to be behind them, had formed the principal part of the + doubt, which, by turns, had increased and diminished, which had abandoned + and tortured her, according to the signs, as little decisive as Madame + Steno’s tranquillity of the preceding day or her confusion that morning. + It was only an impression, very rapid, instantaneous, the prick of a + needle, which merely leaves after it a drop of blood, and yet she had a + smile with which to say to Boleslas: + </p> + <p> + “How did Maud rest? How is she this morning? And my little friend Luc?” + </p> + <p> + “They are very well,” replied Gorka. The last stage of his fury, suddenly + arrested by the presence of the young girl, was manifested, but only to + the Countess, by the simple phrase to which his eyes and his voice lent an + extreme bitterness: “I found them as I left them.... Ah! They love me + dearly.... I leave you to Peppino, Countess,” added he, walking toward the + door. “Mademoiselle, I will bear your love to Maud.”....He had regained + all the courtesy which a long line of savage ‘grands seigneurs’, but + ‘grands seigneurs’ nevertheless, had instilled in him. If his bow to + Madame Steno was very ceremonious, he put a special grace in the low bow + with which he took leave of the Contessina. It was merely a trifle, but + the Countess was keen enough to perceive it. She was touched by it, she + whom despair, fury, and threats had found so impassive. For an instant she + was vaguely humiliated by the success which she had gained over the man + whom she would, voluntarily, five minutes before, have had cast out of + doors by her servants. She was silent, oblivious even of her daughter’s + presence, until the latter recalled her to herself by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put on my veil and fetch my parasol?” + </p> + <p> + “You can join me in the office, whither I am going to talk with Ardea,” + replied her mother; adding, “I shall perhaps have some news to tell you in + the carriage which will give you pleasure!”.... She had again her bright + smile, and she did not mistrust while she resumed her conversation with + Peppino that poor Alba, on reentering her chamber, wiped from her pale + cheeks two large tears, and that she opened, to re-read it, the infamous + anonymous letter received the day before. She knew by heart all the + perfidious phrases. Must it not have been that the mind which had composed + them was blinded by vengeance to such a degree that it had no scruples + about laying before the innocent child a denunciation which ran thus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A true friend of Mademoiselle Steno warns her that she is + compromised, more than a marriageable young girl should be, in + playing, with regard to M. Maitland the role she has already played + with regard to M. Goyka. There are conditions of blindness so + voluntary that they become complicity.” + </pre> + <p> + Those words, enigmatical to any one else, but to the Contessina horribly + clear, had been, like the letters of which Boleslas had told Dorsenne, cut + from a journal and pasted on a sheet of paper. How had Alba trembled on + reading that note for the first time, with an emotion increased by the + horror of feeling hovering over her and her mother a hatred so relentless! + Later in the day how much had the words exchanged with Dorsenne comforted + her, and how reassured had she been by the Countess’s imperturbability on + the entrance of Boleslas Gorka! Fragile peace, which had vanished when she + saw her mother and the husband of her best friend face to face, with + traces in their eyes, in their gestures, upon their countenances, of an + angry scene! The thought “Why were they thus! What had they said?” again + occurred to her to sadden her. Suddenly she crushed in her hand with + violence the anonymous letter, which gave a concrete form to her sorrow + and her suspicion, and, lighting a taper, she held it to the paper, which + the flames soon reduced to ashes. She ran her fingers through the debris + until there was very little left, and then, opening the window, she cast + it to the winds. + </p> + <p> + She looked at her glove after doing this—her glove, a few moments + before, of so delicate a gray, now stained by the smoky dust. It was + symbolical of the stain which the letter, even when destroyed, had left + upon her mind. The gloves, too, inspired her with horror. She hastily drew + them off, and, when she descended to rejoin Madame Steno, it was not any + more possible to perceive on those hands, freshly gloved, the traces of + that tragical childishness, than it was possible to discern, beneath the + large veil which she had tied over her hat, the traces of tears. She found + the mother for whom she was suffering so much, wearing, too, a large + sun-hat, but a white one with a white veil, beneath which could be seen + her fair hair, her sparkling blue eyes and pink-and-white complexion; her + form was enveloped in a gown of a material and cut more youthful than her + daughter’s, while, radiant with delight, she said to Peppino Ardea: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I congratulate you on having made up your mind. The step shall be + taken to-day, and you will be grateful to me all your life!” + </p> + <p> + “Yet,” replied the young man, “I understand myself. I shall regret my + decision all the afternoon. It is true,” he added, philosophically, “that + I should regret it just as much if I had not made it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have guessed that we were talking of Fanny’s marriage,” said Madame + Steno to her daughter several minutes later, when they were seated side by + side, like two sisters, in the victoria which was bearing them toward + Maitland’s studio. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” asked the Contessina, “you think it will be arranged?” + </p> + <p> + “It is arranged,” gayly replied Madame Steno. “I am commissioned to make + the proposition.... How happy all three will be!... Hafner has aimed at it + this long time! I remember how, in 1880, after his suit, he came to see me + in Venice—you and Fanny played on the balcony of the palace—he + questioned me about the Quirinal, the Vatican and society.... Then he + concluded, pointing to his daughter, ‘I shall make a Roman princess of the + little one!” + </p> + <p> + The ‘dogaresse’ was so delighted at the thought of the success of her + negotiations, so delighted, too, to go, as she was going, to Maitland’s + studio, behind her two English cobs, which trotted so briskly, that she + did not see on the sidewalk Boleslas Gorka, who watched her pass. + </p> + <p> + Alba was so troubled by that fresh proof of her mother’s lack of + conscience that she did not notice Maud’s husband either. Baron Hafner’s + and Prince d’Ardea’s manner toward Fanny had inspired her the day before + with a dolorous analogy between the atmosphere of falsehood in which that + poor girl lived and the atmosphere in which she at times thought she + herself lived. That analogy again possessed her, and she again felt the + “needle in the heart” as she recalled what she had heard before from the + Countess of the intrigue by which Baron Justus Hafner had, indeed, + ensnared his future son-in-law. She was overcome by infinite sadness, and + she lapsed into one of her usual silent moods, while the Countess related + to her Peppino’s indecision. What cared she for Boleslas’s anger at that + moment? What could he do to her? Gorka was fully aware of her utter + carelessness of the scene which had taken place between them, as soon as + he saw the victoria pass. For some time he remained standing, watching the + large white and black hats disappear down the Rue du Vingt Septembre. + </p> + <p> + This thought took possession of him at once. Madame Steno and her daughter + were going to Maitland’s atelier.... He had no sooner conceived that + bitter suspicion than he felt the necessity of proving it at once. He + entered a passing cab, just as Ardea, having left the Villa, Steno after + him, sauntered up, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going? May I go with you that we may have a few moments’ + conversation?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible,” replied Gorka. “I have a very urgent appointment, but in an + hour I shall perhaps have occasion to ask a service of you. Where shall I + find you?” + </p> + <p> + “At home,” said Peppino, “lunching.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied Boleslas, and, raising himself, he whispered in the + cabman’s ear, in a voice too low for his friend to hear what he said: “Ten + francs for you if in five minutes you drive me to the corner of the Rue + Napoleon III and the Place de la Victor-Emmanuel.” + </p> + <p> + The man gathered up his reins, and, by some sleight-of-hand, the jaded + horse which drew the botte was suddenly transformed into a fine Roman + steed, the botte itself into a light carriage as swift as the Tuscan + carrozzelle, and the whole disappeared in a cross street, while Peppino + said to himself: + </p> + <p> + “There is a fine fellow who would do so much better to remain with his + friend Ardea than to go whither he is going. This affair will end in a + duel. If I had not to liquidate that folly,” and he pointed out with the + end of his cane a placard relative to the sale of his own palace, “I would + amuse myself by taking Caterina from both of them. But those little + amusements must wait until after my marriage.” + </p> + <p> + As we have seen, the cunning Prince had not been mistaken as to the course + taken by the cab Gorka had hailed. It was indeed into the neighborhood of + the atelier occupied by Maitland that the discarded lover hastened, but + not to the atelier. The madman wished to prove to himself that the + exhibition of his despair had availed him nothing, and that, scarcely rid + of him, Madame Steno had repaired to the other. What would it avail him to + know it and what would the evidence prove? Had the Countess concealed + those sittings—those convenient sittings—as the jealous lover + had told Dorsenne? The very thought of them caused the blood to flow in + his veins much more feverishly than did the thoughts of the other + meetings. For those he could still doubt, notwithstanding the anonymous + letters, notwithstanding the tete-a-tete on the terrace, notwithstanding + the insolent “Linco,” whom she had addressed thus before him, while of the + long intimacies of the studio he was certain. They maddened him, and, at + the same time, by that strange contradiction which is characteristic of + all jealousy, he hungered and thirsted to prove them. + </p> + <p> + He alighted from his cab at the corner he had named to his cabman, and + from which point he could watch the Rue Leopardi, in which was his rival’s + house. It was a large structure in the Moorish style, built by the + celebrated Spanish artist, Juan Santigosa, who had been obliged to sell + all five years before—house, studio, horses, completed paintings, + sketches begun—in order to pay immense losses at gaming. Florent + Chapron had at the time bought the sort of counterfeit Alhambra, a portion + of which he rented to his brother-in-law. During the few moments that he + stood at the corner, Boleslas Gorka recalled having visited that house the + previous year, while taking, in the company of Madame Steno, Alba, Maud, + and Hafner, one of those walks of which fashionable women are so fond in + Rome as well as in Paris. An irrational instinct had rendered the painter + and his paintings antipathetic to him at their first meeting. Had he had + sufficient cause? Suddenly, on leaning forward in such a manner as to see + without being seen, he perceived a victoria which entered the Rue + Leopardi, and in that victoria the black hat of Mademoiselle Steno and the + light one of her mother. In two minutes more the elegant carriage drew up + at the Moorish structure, which gleamed among the other buildings in that + street, for the most part unfinished, with a sort of insolent, + sumptuousness. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies alighted and disappeared through the door, which closed + upon them, while the coachman started up his horses at the pace of animals + which are returning to their stable. He checked them that they might not + become overheated, and the fine cobs trembled impatiently in their + harnesses. Evidently the Countess and Alba were in the studio for a long + sitting. What had Boleslas learned that he did not already know? Was he + not ridiculous, standing upon the sidewalk of the square in the centre of + which rose the ruin of an antique reservoir, called, for a reason more + than doubtful, the trophy of Marius. With one glance the young man took in + this scene—the empty victoria turning in the opposite direction, the + large square, the ruin, the row of high houses, his cab. He appeared to + himself so absurd for being there to spy out that of which he was only too + sure, that he burst into a nervous laugh and reentered his cab, giving his + own address to the cabman: Palazzetto Doria, Place de Venise. The cab that + time started off leisurely, for the man comprehended that the mad desire + to arrive hastily no longer possessed his fare. By a sudden metamorphosis, + the swift Roman steed became a common nag, and the vehicle a heavy machine + which rumbled along the streets. Boleslas yielded to depression, the + inevitable reaction of an excess of violence such as he had just + experienced. His composure could not last. The studio, in which was Madame + Steno, began to take a clear form in the jealous lover’s mind in + proportion as he drove farther from it. In his thoughts he saw his former + mistress walking about in the framework of tapestry, armor, studies begun, + as he had frequently seen her walking in his smoking-room, with the smile + upon her lips of an amorous woman, touching the objects among which her + lover lives. He saw impassive Alba, who served as chaperon in the new + intrigue of her mother’s with the same naivete she had formerly employed + in shielding their liaison. He saw Maitland with his indifferent glance of + the day before, the glance of a preferred lover, so sure of his triumph + that he did not even feel jealous of the former lover. + </p> + <p> + The absolute tranquillity of one who replaces us in an unfaithful + mistress’s affections augments our fury still more if we have the + misfortune to be placed in a position similar to Gorka’s. In a moment his + rival’s evocation became to him impossible to bear. He was very near his + own home, for he was just at that admirable square encumbered with the + debris of basilica, the Forum of Trajan, which the statue of St. Peter at + the summit of the column overlooks. Around the base of the sculptured + marble, legends attest the triumph of the humble Galilean fisherman who + landed at the port of the Tiber 1800 years ago, unknown, persecuted, a + beggar. What a symbol and what counsel to say with the apostle: “Whither + shall we go, Lord? Thou alone hast the words of eternal life!” + </p> + <p> + But Gorka was neither a Montfanon nor a Dorsenne to hear within his heart + or his mind the echo of such precepts. He was a man of passion and of + action, who only saw his passion and his actions in the position in which + fortune threw him. A fresh access of fury recalled to him Maitland’s + attitude of the preceding day. This time he would no longer control + himself. He violently pulled the surprised coachman’s sleeve, and called + out to him the address of the Rue Leopardi in so imperative a tone that + the horse began again to trot as he had done before, and the cab to go + quickly through the labyrinth of streets. A wave of tragical desire rolled + into the young man’s heart. No, he would not bear that affront. He was too + bitterly wounded in the most sensitive chords of his being, in his love as + well as his pride. Both struggled within him, and another instinct as + well, urging him to the mad step he was about to take. The ancient blood + of the Palatines, with regard to which Dorsenne always jested, boiled in + his veins. If the Poles have furnished many heroes for dramas and modern + romances, they have remained, through their faults, so dearly atoned for, + the race the most chivalrously, the most madly brave in Europe. When men + of so intemperate and so complex an excitability are touched to a certain + depth, they think of a duel as naturally as the descendants of a line of + suicides think of killing themselves. + </p> + <p> + Joyous Ardea, with his Italian keenness, had seen at a glance the end to + which Gorka’s nature would lead him. The betrayed lover required a duel to + enable him to bear the treason. He might wound, he might, perhaps, kill + his rival, and his passion would be satisfied, or else he would risk being + killed himself, and the courage he would display braving death would + suffice to raise him in his own estimation. A mad thought possessed him + and caused him to hasten toward the Rue Leopardi, to provoke his rival + suddenly and before Madame Steno! Ah, what pleasure it would give him to + see her tremble, for she surely would tremble when she saw him enter the + studio! But he would be correct, as she had so insolently asked him to be. + He would go, so to speak, to see Alba’s portrait. He would dissemble, then + he would be better able to find a pretext for an argument. It is so easy + to find one in the simplest conversation, and from an argument a quarrel + is soon born. He would speak in such a manner that Maitland would have to + answer him. The rest would follow. But would Alba Steno be present? Ha, so + much the better! He would be so much more at ease, if the altercation + arose before her, to deceive his own wife as to the veritable reason of + the duel. Ah, he would have his dispute at any price, and from the moment + that the seconds had exchanged visits the American’s fate would be + decided. He knew how to render it impossible for the fellow to remain + longer in Rome. The young man was greatly wrought up by the romance of the + provocation and the duel. + </p> + <p> + “How it refreshes the blood to be avenged upon two fools,” said he to + himself, descending from his cab and inquiring at the door of the Moorish + house. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Maitland?” he asked the footman, who at one blow dissipated his + excitement by replying with this simple phrase, the only one of which he + had not thought in his frenzy: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur is not at home.” + </p> + <p> + “He will be at home to me,” replied Boleslas. “I have an appointment with + Madame and Mademoiselle Steno, who are awaiting me.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur’s orders are strict,” replied the servant. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed, as are all servants entrusted with the defence of an artist’s + work, to a certain rigor of orders, he yet hesitated, in the face of the + untruth which Gorka had invented on the spur of the moment, and he was + about to yield to his importunity when some one appeared on the staircase + of the hall. That some one was none other than Florent Chapron. Chance + decreed that the latter should send for a carriage in which to go to + lunch, and that the carriage should be late. At the sound of wheels + stopping at the door, he looked out of one of the windows of his + apartment, which faced the street. He saw Gorka alight. Such a visit, at + such an hour, with the persons who were in the atelier, seemed to him so + dangerous that he ran downstairs immediately. He took up his hat and his + cane, to justify his presence in the hall by the very natural excuse that + he was going out. He reached the middle of the staircase just in time to + stop the servant, who had decided to “go and see,” and, bowing to Boleslas + with more formality than usual: + </p> + <p> + “My brother-in-law is not there, Monsieur,” said he; and he added, turning + to the footman, in order to dispose of him in case an altercation should + arise between the importunate visitor and himself, “Nero, fetch me a + handkerchief from my room. I have forgotten mine.” + </p> + <p> + “That order could not be meant for me, Monsieur,” insisted Boleslas. + “Monsieur Maitland has made an appointment with me, with Madame Steno, in + order to show us Alba’s portrait.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no order,” replied Florent. “I repeat to you that my brother-in-law + has gone out. The studio is closed, and it is impossible for me to + undertake to open it to show you the picture, since I have not the key. As + for Madame and Mademoiselle Steno, they have not been here for several + days; the sittings have been interrupted.” + </p> + <p> + “What is still more extraordinary, Monsieur,” replied the other, “is that + I saw them with my own eyes, five minutes ago, enter this house and I, + too, saw their carriage drive away.”.... He felt his anger increase and + direct itself altogether against the watch-dog so suddenly raised upon the + threshold of his rival’s house. + </p> + <p> + Florent, on his part, had begun to lose patience. He had within him the + violent irritability of the negro blood, which he did not acknowledge, but + which slightly tinted his complexion. The manner of Madame Steno’s former + lover seemed to him so outrageous that he replied very dryly, as he opened + the door, in order to oblige the caller to leave: + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,—Monsieur, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are aware, Monsieur,” replied Boleslas, “of the fact that you just + addressed me in a tone which is not the one which I have a right to expect + from you.... When one charges one’s self with a certain business, it is at + least necessary to introduce a little form.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, Monsieur,” replied Chapron, “would be very much obliged to you if, + when you address me, you would not do so in enigmas. I do not know what + you mean by ‘a certain business,’ but I know that it is unbefitting a + gentleman to act as you have acted at the door of a house which is not + yours and for reasons that I can not comprehend.” + </p> + <p> + “You will comprehend them very soon, Monsieur,” said Boleslas, beside + himself, “and you have not constituted yourself your brother’s slave + without motives.” + </p> + <p> + He had no sooner uttered that sentence than Florent, incapable any longer + of controlling himself, raised his cane with a menacing gesture, which the + Polish Count arrested just in time, by seizing it in his right hand. It + was the work of a second, and the two men were again face to face, both + pale with anger, ready to collar one another rudely, when the sound of a + door closing above their heads recalled to them their dignity. The servant + descended the stairs. It was Chapron who first regained his + self-possession, and he said to Boleslas, in a voice too low to be heard + by any one but him: + </p> + <p> + “No scandal, Monsieur, eh? I shall have the honor of sending two of my + friends to you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Monsieur,” replied Gorka, “who will send you two. You shall + answer to me for your manner, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Whatsoever you like,” said the other. “I accept all your conditions + in advance.... But one thing I ask of you,” he added, “that no names be + mentioned. There would be too many persons involved. Let it appear that we + had an argument on the street, that we disagreed, and that I threatened + you.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it,” said Boleslas, after a pause. “You have my word. There is a + man,” said he to himself five minutes later, when again rolling through + the streets in his cab, after giving the cabman the address of the Palais + Castagna. “Yes, there is a man.... He was very insolent just now, and I + lacked composure. I am too nervous. I should be sorry to injure the boy. + But, patience, the other will lose nothing by waiting.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE INCONSISTENCY OF AN OLD CHOUAN + </h2> + <p> + While the madman, Boleslas, hastened to Ardea to ask his cooperation in + the most unreasonable of encounters, with a species of savage delight, + Florent Chapron was possessed by only one thought: at any price to prevent + his brother-in-law from suspecting his quarrel with Madame Steno’s former + lover and the duel which was to be the result. His passionate friendship + for Lincoln was so strong that it prevented the nervousness which usually + precedes a first duel, above all when he who appears upon the ground has + all his life neglected practising with the sword or pistol. To a fencer, + and to one accustomed to the use of firearms, a duel means a number of + details which remove the thought of danger. The man conceives the + possibilities of the struggle, of a deed to be bravely accomplished. That + is sufficient to inspire him with a composure which absolute ignorance can + not inspire, unless it is supported by one of those deep attachments often + so strong within us. Such was the case with Florent. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne’s instinct, which could so easily read the heart, was not + mistaken there; the painter had in his wife’s brother a friend of + self-sacrificing devotion. He could exact anything of the Mameluke, or, + rather, of that slave, for it was the blood of the slaves, of his + ancestors, which manifested itself in Chapron by so total an absorption of + his personality. The atavism of servitude has these two effects which are + apparently contradictory: it produces fathomless capacities of sacrifice + or of perfidy. Both of these qualities were embodied in the brother and in + the sister. As happens, sometimes, the two characteristics of their race + were divided between them; one had inherited all the virtue of + self-sacrifice, the other all the puissance of hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + But the drama called forth by Madame Steno’s infidelity, and finally by + Gorka’s rashness, would only expose to light the moral conditions which + Dorsenne had foreseen without comprehending. He was completely ignorant of + the circumstances under which Florent had developed, of those under which + Maitland and he had met, of how Maitland had decided to marry Lydia; + finally an exceptional and lengthy history which it is necessary to sketch + here at least, in order to render clear the singular relations of those + three beings. + </p> + <p> + As we have seen, the allusion coarsely made by Boleslas to negro blood + marked the moment when Florent lost all self-control, to the point even of + raising his cane to his insolent interlocutor. That blemish, hidden with + the most jealous care, represented to the young man what it had + represented to his father, the vital point of self-love, secret and + constant humiliation. It was very faint, the trace of negro blood which + flowed in their veins, so faint that it was necessary to be told of it, + but it was sufficient to render a stay in America so much the more + intolerable to both, as they had inherited all the pride of their name, a + name which the Emperor mentioned at St. Helena as that of one of his + bravest officers. Florent’s grandfather was no other, indeed, than the + Colonel Chapron who, as Napoleon desired information, swam the Dnieper on + horseback, followed a Cossack on the opposite shore, hunted him like a + stag, laid him across his saddle and took him back to the French camp. + When the Empire fell, that hero, who had compromised himself in an + irreparable manner in the army of the Loire, left his country and, + accompanied by a handful of his old comrades, went to found in the + southern part of the United States, in Alabama, a sort of agricultural + colony, to which they gave the name—which it still preserves—of + Arcola, a naive and melancholy tribute to the fabulous epoch which, + however, had been dear to them. + </p> + <p> + Who would have recognized the brilliant colonel, who penetrated by the + side of Montbrun the heart of the Grande Redoute, in the planter of + forty-five, busy with his cotton and his sugar-cane, who made a fortune in + a short time by dint of energy and good sense? His success, told of in + France, was the indirect cause of another emigration to Texas, led by + General Lallemand, and which terminated so disastrously. Colonel Chapron + had not, as can be believed, acquired in roaming through Europe very + scrupulous notions an the relations of the two sexes. Having made the + mother of his child a pretty and sweet-tempered mulattress whom he met on + a short trip to New Orleans, and whom he brought back to Arcola, he became + deeply attached to the charming creature and to his son, so much the more + so as, with a simple difference of complexion and of hair, the child was + the image of him. Indeed, the old warrior, who had no relatives in his + native land, on dying, left his entire fortune to that son, whom he had + christened Napoleon. While he lived, not one of his neighbors dared to + treat the young man differently from the way in which his father treated + him. + </p> + <p> + But it was not the same when the prestige of the Emperor’s soldier was not + there to protect the boy against that aversion to race which is morally a + prejudice, but socially interprets an instinct of preservation of + infallible surety. The United States has grown only on that condition. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Those familiar with the works of Bourget will recognize here again + his well known antipathy for the United States of America. Mark + Twain in the late 1800’s felt obliged to rebut some of Bourget’s + prejudice: “What Paul Bourget Thinks of Us.” D.W.] +</pre> + <p> + The mixture of blood would there have dissolved the admirable Anglo-Saxon + energy which the struggle against a nature at once very rich and very + mutinous has exalted to such surprising splendor. It is not necessary to + ask those who are the victims of such an instinct to comprehend the legal + injustice. They only feel its ferocity. Napoleon Chapron, rejected in + several offers of marriage, thwarted in his plans, humiliated under twenty + trifling circumstances by the Colonel’s former companions, became a + species of misanthrope. He lived, sustained by a twofold desire, on the + one hand to increase his fortune, and on the other to wed a white woman. + It was not until 1857, at the age of thirty-five, that he realized the + second of his two projects. In the course of a trip to Europe, he became + interested on the steamer in a young English governess, who was returning + from Canada, summoned home by family troubles. He met her again in London. + He helped her with such delicacy in her distress, that he won her heart, + and she consented to become his wife. From that union were born, one year + apart, Florent and Lydia. + </p> + <p> + Lydia had cost her mother her life, at the moment when the War of + Secession jeoparded the fortune of Chapron, who, fortunately for him, had, + in his desire to enrich himself quickly, invested his money a little on + all sides. He was only partly ruined, but that semi-ruin prevented him + from returning to Europe, as he had intended. He was compelled to remain + in Alabama to repair that disaster, and he succeeded, for at his death, in + 1880, his children inherited more than four hundred thousand dollars each. + The incomparable father’s devotion had not limited itself to the building + up of a large fortune. He had the courage to deprive himself of the + presence of the two beings whom he adored, to spare them the humiliation + of an American school, and he sent them after their twelfth year to + England, the boy to the Jesuits of Beaumont, the girl to the convent of + the Sacred Heart, at Roehampton. After four years there, he sent them to + Paris, Florent to Vaugirard, Lydia to the Rue de Varenne, and just at the + time that he had realized the amount he considered requisite, when he was + preparing to return to live near them in a country without prejudices, a + stroke of apoplexy took him off suddenly. The double wear of toil and care + had told upon one of those organisms which the mixture of the black and + white races often produces, athletic in appearance, but of a very keen + sensibility, in which the vital resistance is not in proportion to the + muscular vigor. + </p> + <p> + Whatever care the man, so deeply grieved by the blemish upon his birth, + had taken to preserve his children from a similar experience, he had not + been able to do so, and soon after his son entered Beaumont his trials + began. The few boys with whom Florent was thrown in contact, in the hotels + or in his walks, during his sojourn in America, had already made him feel + that humiliation from which his father had suffered so much. The youth of + twelve, silent and absurdly sensitive, who made his appearance on the lawn + of the peaceful English college on an autumn morning, brought with him a + self-love already bleeding, to whom it was a delightful surprise to find + himself among comrades of his age who did not even seem to suspect that + any difference separated them from him. It required the perception of a + Yankee to discern, beneath the nails of the handsome boy with the dark + complexion, the tiny drops of negro blood, so far removed. Between an + octoroon and a creole a European can never tell the difference. Florent + had been represented as what he really was, the grandson of one of the + Emperor’s best officers. His father had taken particular pains to + designate him as French, and his companions only saw in him a pupil like + themselves, coming from Alabama—that is to say, from a country + almost as chimerical as Japan or China. + </p> + <p> + All who in early youth have known the torture of apprehension will be able + to judge of the poor child’s agony when, after four months of a life amid + the warmth of sympathy, one of the Jesuit fathers who directed the college + announced to him, thinking it would afford him pleasure, the expected + arrival of an American, of young Lincoln Maitland. This was to Florent so + violent a shock that he had a fever for forty-eight hours. In after years + he could remember what thoughts possessed him on the day when he descended + from his room to the common refectory, sure that as soon as he was brought + face to face with the new pupil he would have to sustain the disdainful + glance suffered so frequently in the United States. There was no doubt in + his mind that, his origin once discovered, the atmosphere of kindness in + which he moved with so much surprise would soon be changed to hostility. + He could again see himself crossing the yard; could hear himself called by + Father Roberts—the master who had told him of the expected new + arrival—and his surprise when Lincoln Maitland had given him the + hearty handshake of one demi-compatriot who meets another. He was to learn + later that that reception was quite natural, coming from the son of an + Englishman, educated altogether by his mother, and taken from New York to + Europe before his fifth year, there to live in a circle as little American + as possible. Chapron did not reason in that manner. He had an infinitely + tender heart. Gratitude entered it—gratitude as impassioned as had + been his fear. One week later Lincoln Maitland and he were friends, and + friends so intimate that they never parted. + </p> + <p> + The affection, which was merely to the indifferent nature of Maitland a + simple college episode, became to Florent the most serious, most complete + sentiment of his life. Those fraternities of election, the loveliest and + most delicate of the heart of man, usually dawn thus in youth. It is the + ideal age of passionate friendship, that period between ten and sixteen, + when the spirit is so pure, so fresh, still so virtuous, so fertile in + generous projects for the future. One dreams of a companionship almost + mystical with the friend from whom one has no secret, whose character one + sees in such a noble light, on whose esteem one depends as upon the surest + recompense, whom one innocently desires to resemble. Indeed, they are, + between the innocent lads who work side by side on a problem of geometry + or a lesson in history, veritable poems of tenderness at which the man + will smile later, finding so far different from him in all his tastes, him + whom he desired to have for a brother. It happens, however, in certain + natures of a sensibility particularly precocious and faithful at the same + time, that the awakening of effective life is so strong, so encroaching, + that the impassioned friendship persists, first through the other + awakening, that of sensuality, so fatal to all the senses of delicacy, + then through the first tumult of social experience, not less fatal to our + ideal of youth. + </p> + <p> + That was the case with Florent Chapron, whether his character, at once + somewhat wild and yet submissive, rendered him more qualified for that + renunciation of his personality than friendship demands, whether, far from + his father and his sister and not having any mother, his loving heart had + need of attaching itself to some one who could fill the place of his + relatives, or whether Maitland exercised over him a special prestige by + his opposite qualities. Fragile and somewhat delicate, was he seduced by + the strength and dexterity which his friend exhibited in all his + exercises? Timid and naturally taciturn, was he governed by the assurance + of that athlete with the loud laugh, with the invincible energy? Did the + surprising tendency toward art which the other one showed conquer him, as + well as sympathy for the misfortunes which were confided to him and which + touched him more than they touched him who experienced them? + </p> + <p> + Gordon Maitland, Lincoln’s father, of an excellent family of New York, had + been killed at the battle of Chancellorsville, during the same war which + had ruined Florent’s father in part. Mrs. Maitland, the poor daughter of a + small rector of a Presbyterian church at Newport, and who had only married + her husband for his money, had but one idea, when once a widow—to go + abroad. Whither? To Europe, vague and fascinating spot, where she fancied + she would be distinguished by her intelligence and her beauty. She was + pretty, vain and silly, and that voyage in pursuit of a part to play in + the Old World caused her to pass two years first in one hotel and then in + another, after which she married the second son of a poor Irish peer, with + the new chimera of entering that Olympus of British aristocracy of which + she had dreamed so much. She became a Catholic, and her son with her, to + obtain the result which cost her dear, for not only was the lord who had + given her his name brutal, a drunkard and cruel, but he added to all those + faults that of being one of the greatest gamblers in the entire United + Kingdom. He kept his stepson away from home, beat his wife, and died + toward 1880, after dissipating the poor creature’s fortune and almost all + of Lincoln’s. At that time the latter, whom his stepfather had naturally + left to develop in his own way, and who, since leaving Beaumont, had + studied painting at Venice, Rome and Paris, was in the latter city and one + of the first pupils in Bonnat’s studio. Seeing his mother ruined, without + resources at forty-four years of age, persuaded himself of his glorious + future, he had one of those magnificent impulses such as one has in youth + and which prove much less the generosity than the pride of life. Of the + fifteen thousand francs of income remaining to him, he gave up to his + mother twelve thousand five hundred. It is expedient to add that in less + than a year afterward he married the sister of his college friend and four + hundred thousand dollars. He had seen poverty and he was afraid of it. His + action with regard to his mother seemed to justify in his own eyes the + purely interested character of the combination which freed his brush + forever. There are, moreover, such artistic consciences. Maitland would + not have pardoned himself a concession of art. He considered rascals the + painters who begged success by compromise in their style, and he thought + it quite natural to take the money of Mademoiselle Chapron, whom he did + not love, and for whom, now that he had grown to manhood and knew several + of her compatriots, he likewise felt the prejudice of race. “The glory of + the colonel of the Empire and friendship for that good Florent,” as he + said, “covered all.” + </p> + <p> + Poor and good Florent! That marriage was to him the romance of his youth + realized. He had desired it since the first week that Maitland had given + him the cordial handshake which had bound them. To live in the shadow of + his friend, become at once his brother-in-law and his ideal—he did + not dream of any other solution of his own destiny. The faults of + Maitland, developed by age, fortune, and success—we recall the + triumph of his ‘Femme en violet et en jeune’ in the Salon of 1884—found + Florent as blind as at the epoch when they played cricket together in the + fields at Beaumont. Dorsenne very justly diagnosed there one of those + hypnotisms of admiration such as artists, great or small, often inspire + around them. But the author, who always generalized too quickly, had not + comprehended that the admirer with Florent was grafted on a friend worthy + to be painted by La Fontaine or by Balzac, the two poets of friendship, + the one in his sublime and tragic Cousin Pons, the other in that short but + fine fable, in which is this verse, one of the most tender in the French + language: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Vous metes, en dormant, un peu triste apparu. +</pre> + <p> + Florent did not love Lincoln because he admired him; he admired him + because he loved him. He was not wrong in considering the painter as one + of the most gifted who had appeared for thirty years. But Lincoln would + have had neither the bold elegance of his drawing, nor the vivid strength + of coloring, nor the ingenious finesse of imagination if the other had + lent himself with less ardor to the service of the work and to the glory + of the artist. When Lincoln wanted to travel he found his brother-in-law + the most diligent of couriers. When he had need of a model he had only to + say a word for Florent to set about finding one. Did Lincoln exhibit at + Paris or London, Florent took charge of the entire proceeding—seeing + the journalists and picture dealers, composing letters of thanks for the + articles, in a handwriting so like that of the painter that the latter had + only to sign it. Lincoln desired to return to Rome. Florent had discovered + the house on the Rue Leopardi, and he settled it even before Maitland, + then in Egypt, had finished a large study begun at the moment of the + departure of the other. + </p> + <p> + Florent had, by virtue of the affection felt for his brother-in-law, come + to comprehend the paintings as well as the painter himself. These words + will be clear to those who have been around artists and who know what a + distance separates them from the most enlightened amateur. The amateur can + judge and feel. The artist only, who has wielded the implements, knows, + before a painting, how it is done, what stroke of the brush has been + given, and why; in short, the trituration of the matter by the workman. + Florent had watched Maitland work so much, he had rendered him so many + effective little services in the studio, that each of his brother-in-law’s + canvases became animated to him, even to the slightest details. When he + saw them on the wall of the gallery they told him of an intimacy which was + at once his greatest joy and his greatest pride. In short, the absorption + of his personality in that of his former comrade was so complete that it + had led to this anomaly, that Dorsenne himself, notwithstanding his + indulgence for psychological singularities, had not been able to prevent + himself from finding almost monstrous: Florent was Lincoln’s + brother-in-law, and he seemed to find it perfectly natural that the latter + should have adventures outside, if the emotion of those adventures could + be useful to his talent! + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this long and yet incomplete analysis will permit us the better to + comprehend what emotions agitated the young man as he reascended the + staircase of his house—of their house, Lincoln’s and his—after + his unexpected dispute with Boleslas Gorka. It will attenuate, at least + with respect to him, the severity of simple minds. All passion, when + developed in the heart, has the effect of etiolating around it the vigor + of other instincts. Chapron was too fanatical a friend to be a very + equitable brother. It seemed to him very simple and very legitimate that + his sister should be at the service of the genius of Lincoln, as he + himself was. Moreover, if, since the marriage with her brother’s friend, + his sister had been stirred by the tempest of a moral tragedy, Florent did + not suspect it. When had he studied Lydia, the silent, reserved Lydia, of + whom he had once for all formed an opinion, as is the almost invariable + custom of relative with relative? Those who have seen us when young are + like those who see us daily. The images which they trace of us always + reproduce what we were at a certain moment—scarcely ever what we + are. Florent considered his sister very good, because he had formerly + found her so; very gentle, because she had never resisted him; not + intelligent, because she did not seem sufficiently interested in the + painter’s work; as for the suffering and secret rebellion of the oppressed + creature, crushed between his blind partiality and the selfishness of a + scornful husband, he did not even suspect them, much less the terrible + resolution of which that apparent resignation was capable. + </p> + <p> + If he had trembled when Madame Steno began to interest herself in Lincoln, + it was solely for the work of the latter, so much the more as for a year + he had perceived not a decline but a disturbance in the painting of that + artist, too voluntary not to be unequal. Then Florent had seen, on the + other hand, the nerve of Maitland reawakened in the warmth of that little + intrigue. + </p> + <p> + The portrait of Alba promised to be a magnificent study, worthy of being + placed beside the famous ‘Femme en violet et en jaune,’ which those + envious of Lincoln always remembered. Moreover, the painter had finished + with unparalleled ardor two large compositions partly abandoned. In the + face of that proof of a fever of production more and more active, how + would not Florent have blessed Madame Steno, instead of cursing her, so + much the more that it sufficed him to close his eyes and to know that his + conscience was in repose when opposite his sister? He knew all, however. + The proof of it was in his shudder when Dorsenne announced to him the + clandestine arrival in Rome of Madame Steno’s other lover, and one proof + still more certain, the impulse which had precipitated him upon Boleslas, + who was parleying with the servant, and now it was he who had accepted the + duel which an exasperated rival had certainly come to propose to his dear + Lincoln, and he thought only of the latter. + </p> + <p> + “He must know nothing until afterward. He would take the affair upon + himself, and I have a chance to kill him, that Gorka—to wound him, + at least. In any case, I will arrange it so that a second duel will be + rendered difficult to that lunatic.... But, first of all, let us make sure + that we have not spoken too loudly and that they have not heard upstairs + the ill-bred fellow’s loud voice.” + </p> + <p> + It was in such terms that he qualified his adversary of the morrow. For + very little more he would have judged Gorka unpardonable not to thank + Lincoln, who had done him the honor to supplant him in the Countess’s + favor! + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, let us cast a glance at the atelier! When the friend, + devoted to complicity, but also to heroism, entered the vast room, he + could see at the first glance that he had been mistaken and that no sound + of voices had reached that peaceful retreat. + </p> + <p> + The atelier of the American painter was furnished with a harmonious + sumptuousness which real artists know how to gather around them. The large + strip of sky seen through the windows looked down upon a corner veritably + Roman—of the Rome of to-day, which attests an uninterrupted effort + toward forming a new city by the side of the old one. One could see an + angle of the old garden and the fragment of an antique building, with a + church steeple beyond. It was on a background of azure, of verdure and of + ruins, in a horizon larger and more distant, but composed of the same + elements, that was to arise the face of the young girl, designed after the + manner, so sharp and so modelled, of the ‘Pier della Francesca’, with whom + Maitland had been preoccupied for six months. + </p> + <p> + All great composers, of an originality more composite than genitive, have + these infatuations. + </p> + <p> + Maitland was at his easel, dressed with that correct elegance which is the + almost certain mark of Anglo-Saxon artists. With his little varnished + shoes, his fine black socks, spotted with red, his coat of quilted silk, + his light cravat and the purity of his linen, he had the air of a + gentleman who applied himself to an amateur effort, and not of the patient + and laborious worker he really was. But his canvases and his studies, hung + on all sides, among tapestries, arms and trinkets, bespoke patient labor. + It was the history of an energy bent upon the acquisition of a personality + constantly fleeting. Maitland manifested in a supreme degree the trait + common to almost all his compatriots, even those who came in early youth + to Europe, that intense desire not to lack civilization, which is + explained by the fact that the American is a being entirely new, endowed + with an activity incomparable, and deprived of traditional saturation. He + is not born cultivated, matured, already fashioned virtually, if one may + say so, like a child of the Old World. He can create himself at his will. + With superior gifts, but gifts entirely physical, Maitland was a self-made + man of art, as his grand father had been a self-made man of money, as his + father had been a self-made man of war. He had in his eye and in his hand + two marvellous implements for painting, and in his perseverence in + developing a still more marvellous one. He lacked constantly the something + necessary and local which gives to certain very inferior painters the + inexpressible superiority of a savor of soil. It could not be said that he + was not inventive and new, yet one experienced on seeing no matter which + one of his paintings that he was a creature of culture and of acquisition. + The scattered studies in the atelier first of all displayed the influence + of his first master, of solid and simple Bonnat. Then he had been tempted + by the English pre-Raphaelites, and a fine copy of the famous ‘Song of + Love’, by Burne-Jones, attested that reaction on the side of an art more + subtle, more impressed by that poetry which professional painters treat + scornfully as literary. But Lincoln was too vigorous for the languors of + such an ideal, and he quickly turned to other teachings. Spain conquered + him, and Velasquez, the colorist of so peculiar a fancy that, after a + visit to the Museum of the Prado, one carries away the idea that one has + just seen the only painting worthy of the name. + </p> + <p> + The spirit of the great Spaniard, that despotic stroke of the brush which + seems to draw the color in the groundwork of the picture, to make it stand + out in almost solid lights, his absolute absence of abstract intentions + and his newness which affects entirely to ignore the past, all in that + formula of art, suited Maitland’s temperament. To him, too, he owed his + masterpiece, the ‘Femme en violet et en jaune’, but the restless seeker + did not adhere to that style. Italy and the Florentines next influenced + him, just those the most opposed to Velasquez; the Pollajuoli, Andrea del + Castagna, Paolo Uccello and Pier delta Francesca. Never would one have + believed that the same hand which had wielded with so free a brush the + color of the ‘Femme en violet...’ could be that which sketched the contour + of the portrait of Alba with so severe, so rigid a drawing. + </p> + <p> + At the moment Florent entered the studio that work so completely absorbed + the attention of the painter that he did not hear the door open any more + than did Madame Steno, who was smoking cigarettes, reclining indolently + and blissfully upon the divan, her half-closed eyes fixed upon the man she + loved. Lincoln only divined another presence by a change in Alba’s face. + God! How pale she was, seated in the immobility of her pose in a large, + heraldic armchair, with a back of carved wood, her hands grasping the + arms, her mouth so bitter, her eyes so deep in their fixed glance!... Did + she divine that which she could not, however, know, that her fate was + approaching with the visitor who entered, and who, having left the studio + fifteen minutes before, had to justify his return by an excuse. + </p> + <p> + “It is I,” said he. “I forgot to ask you, Lincoln, if you wish to buy + Ardea’s three drawings at the price they offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not tell me of it yesterday, my little Linco?” interrupted + the Countess. “I saw Peppino again this morning.... I would have from him + his lowest figure.” + </p> + <p> + “That would only be lacking,” replied Maitland, laughing his large laugh. + “He does not acknowledge those drawings, dear dogaresse.... They are a + part of the series of trinkets he carefully subtracted from his creditor’s + inventory and put in different places. There are some at seven or eight + antiquaries’, and we may expect that for the next ten years all the + cockneys of my country will be allured by this phrase, ‘This is from the + Palais Castagna. I have it by a little arrangement.’” + </p> + <p> + His eyes sparkled as he imitated one of the most celebrated bric-a-brac + dealers in Rome, with the incomparable art of imitation which + distinguishes all the old habitues of Parisian studios. + </p> + <p> + “At present these three drawings are at an antiquary’s of Babuino, and + very authentic.” + </p> + <p> + “Except when they are represented as Vincis,” said Florent, “when Leonardo + was left-handed, and their hatchings are made from left to right.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think Ardea would not agree with me in it?” resumed the Countess. + </p> + <p> + “Not even with you,” said the painter. “He had the assurance last night, + when I mentioned them before him, to ask me the address in order to go to + see them.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you learn their production?” questioned Madame Steno. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him,” said Maitland, pointing to Chapron with the end of his brush. + “When there is a question of enriching his old Maitland’s collection, he + becomes more of a merchant than the merchants themselves. They tell him + all.... Vinci or no Vinci, it is the pure Lombard style. Buy them. I want + them.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go, then,” replied Florent. “Countess.... Contessina.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed to Madame Steno and her daughter. The mother bestowed upon him + her pleasantest smile. She was not one of those mistresses to whom their + lovers’ intimate friends are always enemies. On the contrary, she + enveloped them in the abundant and blissful sympathy which love awoke in + her. Besides, she was too cunning not to feel that Florent approved of her + love. But, on the other hand, the intense aversion which Alba at that + moment felt toward her mother’s suspected intrigues was expressed by the + formality with which she inclined her head in response to the farewell of + the young man, who was too happy to have found that the dispute had not + been heard. + </p> + <p> + “From now until to-morrow,” thought he, on redescending the staircase, + “there will be no one to warn Lincoln.... The purchase of the drawings was + an invention to demonstrate my tranquillity....Now I must find two + discreet seconds.” + </p> + <p> + Florent was a very deliberate man, and a man who had at his command + perfect evenness of temperament whenever it was not a question of his + enthusiastic attachment to his brother-in-law. He had the power of + observation habitual to persons whose sensitive amour propre has + frequently been wounded. He therefore deferred until later his difficult + choice and went to luncheon, as if nothing had happened, at the restaurant + where he was expected. Certainly the proprietor did not mistrust, in + replying to the questions of his guest relative to the most recent + portraits of Lenbach, that the young man, so calm, so smiling, had on hand + a duel which might cost him his life. It was only on leaving the + restaurant that Florent, after mentally reviewing ten of his older + acquaintances, resolved to make a first attempt upon Dorsenne. He recalled + the mysterious intelligence given him by the novelist, whose sympathy for + Maitland had been publicly manifested by an eloquent article. Moreover, he + believed him to be madly in love with Alba Steno. That was one probability + more in favor of his discretion. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne would surely maintain silence with regard to a meeting in + connection with which, if it were known, the cause of the contest would + surely be mentioned. It was only too clear that Gorka and Chapron had no + real reason to quarrel and fight a duel. But at ten-thirty, that is to + say, three hours after the unreasonable altercation in the vestibule, + Florent rang at the door of Julien’s apartments. The latter was at home, + busy upon the last correction of the proofs of ‘Poussiere d’Idees’. His + visitor’s confidence upset him to such a degree that his hands trembled as + he arranged his scattered papers. He remembered the presence of Boleslas + on that same couch, at the same time of the day, forty-eight hours before. + How the drama would progress if that madman went away in that mood! He + knew only too well that Maitland’s brother-in-law had not told him all. + </p> + <p> + “It is absurd,” he cried, “it is madness, it is folly!... You are not + going to fight about an argument such as you have related to me? You + talked at the corner of the street, you exchanged a few angry words, and + then, suddenly, seconds, a duel.... Ah, it is absurd.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget that I offered him a violent insult in raising my cane to + him,” interrupted Florent, “and since he demands satisfaction I must give + it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe,” said the writer, “that the public will be contented with + those reasons? Do you think they will not look for the secret motives of + the duel? Do I know the story of a woman?... You see, I ask no questions. + I rely upon what you confide in me. But the world is the world, and you + will not escape its remarks.” + </p> + <p> + “It is precisely for that reason that I ask absolute discretion of you,” + replied Florent, “and for that reason that I have come to ask you to serve + me as a second.... There is no one in whom I trust as implicitly as I do + in you.... It is the only excuse for my step.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” said Dorsenne. He hesitated a moment. Then the image of + Alba, which had haunted him since the previous day, suddenly presented + itself to his mind. He recalled the sombre anguish he had surprised in the + young girl’s eyes, then her comforted glance when her mother smiled at + once upon Gorka and Maitland. He recalled the anonymous letter and the + mysterious hatred which impended over Madame Steno. If the quarrel between + Boleslas and Florent became known, there was no doubt that it would be + said generally that Florent was fighting for his brother-in-law on account + of the Countess. No doubt, too, that the report would reach the poor + Contessina. It was sufficient to cause the writer to reply: “Very well! I + accept. I will serve you. Do not thank me. We are losing valuable time. + You will require another second. Of whom have you thought?” + </p> + <p> + “Of no one,” returned Florent. “I confess I have counted on you to aid + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us make a list,” said Julien. “It is the best way, and then cross off + the names.” + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne wrote down a number of their acquaintances, and they indeed + crossed them off, according to his expression, so effectually that after a + minute examination they had rejected all of them. They were then as much + perplexed as ever, when suddenly Dorsenne’s eyes brightened, he uttered a + slight exclamation, and said brusquely: + </p> + <p> + “What an idea! But it is an idea!... Do you know the Marquis de + Montfanon?” he asked Florent. + </p> + <p> + “He with one arm?” replied the latter. “I saw him once with reference to a + monument I put up at Saint Louis des Francais.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me of it,” said Dorsenne. “For one of your relatives, was it + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a distant cousin,” replied Florent; “one Captain Chapron, killed in + ‘forty-nine in the trenches before Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, to our business,” cried Dorsenne, rubbing his hands. “It is + Montfanon who must be your second. First of all, he is an experienced + duellist, while I have never been on the ground. That is very important. + You know the celebrated saying: ‘It is neither swords nor pistols which + kill; it is the seconds.’.... And then if the matter has to be arranged, + he will have more prestige than your servant.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” said Florent; “Marquis de Montfanon.... He will never + consent. I do not exist for him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is my affair,” cried Dorsenne. “Let me take the necessary steps in + my own name, and then if he agrees you can make it in yours.... Only we + have no time to lose. Do not leave your house until six o’clock. By that + time I shall know upon what to depend.” + </p> + <p> + If, at first, the novelist had felt great confidence in the issue of his + strange attempt with reference to his old friend, that confidence changed + to absolute apprehension when he found himself, half an hour later, at the + house which Marquis Claude Francois occupied in one of the oldest parts of + Rome, from which location he could obtain an admirable view of the Forum. + How many times had Julien come, in the past six months, to that Marquis + who dived constantly in the sentiment of the past, to gaze upon the + tragical and grand panorama of the historical scene! At the voice of the + recluse, the broken columns rose, the ruined temples were rebuilt, the + triumphal view was cleared from its mist. He talked, and the formidable + epopee of the Roman legend was evoked, interpreted by the fervent + Christian in that mystical and providential sense, which all, indeed, + proclaims in that spot, where the Mamertine prison relates the trial of + St. Peter, where the portico of the temple of Faustine serves as a + pediment to the Church of St. Laurent, where Ste.-Marie-Liberatrice rises + upon the site of the Temple of Vesta—‘Sancta Maria, libera nos a + poenis inferni’—Montfanon always added when he spoke of it, and he + pointed out the Arch of Titus, which tells of the fulfilment of the + prophecies of Our Lord against Jerusalem, while, opposite, the groves + reveal the out lines of a nunnery upon the ruins of the dwellings of the + Caesars. And, at the extreme end, the Coliseum recalls to mind the ninety + thousand spectators come to see the martyrs suffer. + </p> + <p> + Such were the sights where lived the former pontifical zouave, and, on + ringing the bell of the third etage, Julien said to himself: “I am a + simpleton to come to propose to such a man what I have to propose. Yet it + is not to be a second in an ordinary duel, but simply to prevent an + adventure which might cost the lives of two men in the first place, then + the honor of Madame Steno, and, lastly, the peace of mind of three + innocent persons, Madame Gorka, Madame Maitland and my little friend + Alba.... He alone has sufficient authority to arrange all. It will be an + act of charity, like any other.... I hope he is at home,” he concluded, + hearing the footstep of the servant, who recognized the visitor and who + anticipated all questions. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis went out this morning before eight o’clock. He will not + return until dinner-time.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where he has gone?” + </p> + <p> + “To hear mass in a catacomb, and to be present at a procession,” replied + the footman, who took Dorsenne’s card, adding: “The Trappists of Saint + Calixtus certainly know where the Marquis is.... He lunched with them.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see,” said the young man to himself, somewhat disappointed. His + carriage rolled in the direction of Porte St. Sebastien, near which was + the catacomb and the humble dwelling contiguous to it—the last + morsel of the Papal domains kept by the poor monks. “Montfanon will have + taken communion this morning,” thought he, “and at the very word duel he + will listen to nothing more. However, the matter must be arranged; it must + be.... What would I not give to know the truth of the scene between Gorka + and Florent? By what strange and diabolical ricochet did the Palatine hit + upon the latter when his business was with the brother-in-law?... Will he + be angry that I am his adversary’s second?... Bah!... After our + conversation of the other day our friendship is ended.... Good, I am + already at the little church of ‘Domine, quo vadis.’—[“Lord, whither + art thou going?”]—I might say to myself: ‘Juliane, quo vadis?’ ‘To + perform an act a little better than the majority of my actions,’ I might + reply.” + </p> + <p> + That impressionable soul which vibrated at the slightest contact was + touched by the souvenir of one of the innumerable pious legends which + nineteen centuries of Catholicism have suspended at all the corners of + Rome and its surrounding districts. He recalled the touching story of St. + Peter flying from persecution and meeting our Lord: “Lord, whither art + thou going?” asked the apostle. “To be crucified a second time,” replied + the Saviour, and Peter was ashamed of his weakness and returned to + martyrdom. Montfanon himself had related that episode to the novelist, who + again began to reflect upon the Marquis’s character and the best means of + approaching him. He forgot to glance at the vast solitude of the Roman + suburbs before him, and so deep was his reverie that he almost passed + unheeded the object of his search. Another disappointment awaited him at + the first point in his voyage of exploration. + </p> + <p> + The monk who came at his ring to open the door of the inclosure contiguous + to St. Calixtus, informed him that he of whom he was in search had left + half an hour before. + </p> + <p> + “You will find him at the Basilica of Saint Neree and Saint Achilles,” + added the Trappist; “it is the fete of those two saints, and at five + o’clock there will be a procession in their catacombs.... It is a fifteen + minutes’ ride from here, near the tower Marancia, on the Via Ardeatina.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I miss him a third time?” thought Dorsenne, alighting from the + carriage finally, and proceeding on foot to the opening which leads to the + subterranean Necropolis dedicated to the two saints who were the eunuchs + of Domitilla, the niece of Emperor Vespasian. A few ruins and a + dilapidated house alone mark the spot where once stood the pious + Princess’s magnificent villa. The gate was open, and, meeting no one who + could direct him, the young man took several steps in the subterranean + passage. He perceived that the long gallery was lighted. He entered there, + saying to himself that the row of tapers, lighted every ten paces, + assuredly marked the line which the procession would follow, and which led + to the central basilica. Although his anxiety as to the issue of his + undertaking was extreme, he could not help being impressed by the grandeur + of the sight presented by the catacomb thus illuminated. The uneven niches + reserved for the dead, asleep in the peace of the Lord for so many + centuries, made recesses in the corridors and gave them a solemn and + tragical aspect. Inscriptions were to be seen there, traced on the stone, + and all spoke of the great hope which those first Christians had + cherished, the same which believers of our day cherish. + </p> + <p> + Julien knew enough of symbols to understand the significance of the images + between which the persecuted of the primitive church had laid their + fathers. They are so touching and so simple! The anchor represents safety + in the storm; the gentle dove and the ewe, symbols of the soul, which + flies away and seeks its shepherd; the phoenix, whose wings announce the + resurrection. Then there were the bread and the wine, the branches of the + olive and the palm. The silent cemetery was filled with a faint aroma of + incense, noticed by Dorsenne on entering. High mass, celebrated in the + morning, left the sacred perfume diffused among those bones, once the + forms of human beings who kneeled there amid the same holy aroma. The + contrast was strong between that spot, where everything spoke of things + eternal, and the drama of passion, worldly and culpable, the progress of + which agitated even Dorsenne. At that moment he appeared to himself in the + light of a profaner, although he was obeying generous and humane + instincts. He experienced a sense of relief when, at a bend in one of the + corridors which he had selected from among many others, he found himself + face to face with a priest, who held in his hand a basket filled with the + petals of flowers, destined, no doubt, for the procession. Dorsenne + inquired of him the way to the Basilica in Italian, while the reply was + given in perfect French. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you know the Marquis de Montfanon, father?” asked the novelist. + </p> + <p> + “I am one of the chaplains of Saint Louis,” said the priest, with a smile, + adding: “You will find him in the Basilica.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, the moment has come,” thought Dorsenne, “I must be subtle.... After + all, it is charity I am about to ask him to do.... Here I am. I recognize + the staircase and the opening above.” + </p> + <p> + A corner of the sky, indeed, was to be seen, and a ray of light entered + which permitted the writer to distinguish him whom he was seeking among + the few persons assembled in the ruined chapel, the most venerable of all + those which encircle Rome with a hidden girdle of sanctuaries. Montfanon, + too recognizable, alas! by the empty sleeve of his black redingote, was + seated on a chair, not very far from the altar, on which burned enormous + tapers. Priests and monks were arranging baskets filled with petals, like + those of the chaplain, whom Dorsenne had just met. A group of three + curious visitors commented in whispers upon the paintings, scarcely + visible on the discolored stucco of the ceiling. Montfanon was entirely + absorbed in the book which he held in his one hand. The large features of + his face, ennobled and almost transfigured by the ardor of devotion, gave + him the admirable expression of an old Christian soldier. ‘Bonus miles + Christi’—a good soldier of Christ—had been inscribed upon the + tomb of the chief under whom he had been wounded at Patay. One would have + taken him for a guardian layman of the tombs of the martyrs, capable of + confessing his faith like them, even to the death. And when Julien + determined to approach and to touch him lightly on the shoulder, he saw + that, in the nobleman’s clear, blue eyes, ordinarily so gay, and sometimes + so choleric, sparkled unshed tears. His voice, too, naturally sharp, was + softened by the emotion of the thought which his reading, the place, the + time, the occupation of his day had awakened within him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you here?” said he to his young friend, without any astonishment. + “You have come for the procession. That is well. You will hear sung the + lovely lines: ‘Hi sunt quos fatue mundus abhorruit.” He pronounced ou as + u, ‘a l’Italienne’; for his liturgic training had been received in Rome. + “The season is favorable for the ceremonies. The tourists have gone. There + will only be people here who pray and who feel, like you.... And to feel + is half of prayer. The other half is to believe. You will become one of + us. I have always predicted it. There is no peace but here.” + </p> + <p> + “I would gladly have come only for the procession,” replied Dorsenne, “but + my visit has another motive, dear friend,” said he, in a still lower tone. + “I have been seeking for you for more than an hour, that you might aid me + in rendering a great service to several people, in preventing a very great + misfortune, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “I can help you to prevent a very great misfortune?” repeated Montfanon. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dorsenne, “but this is not the place in which to explain to + you the details of the long and terrible adventure.... At what hour is the + ceremony? I will wait for you, and tell it to you on leaving here.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not begin until five o’clock-five-thirty,” said Montfanon, + looking at his watch, “and it is now fifteen minutes past four. Let us + leave the catacomb, if you wish, and you can repeat your story to me up + above. A very great misfortune? Well,” he added, pressing the hand of the + young man whom, personally, he liked as much as he detested his views, + “rest assured, my dear child, we will prevent it!” + </p> + <p> + There was in the manner in which he uttered those words the tranquillity + of a mind which knows not uneasiness, that of a believer who feels sure of + always accomplishing all that he wishes to do. It would not have been + Montfanon, that is to say, a species of visionary, who loved to argue with + Dorsenne, because he knew that in spite of all he was understood, if he + had not continued, as they walked along the lighted corridor, while + remounting toward daylight: + </p> + <p> + “If it is all the same to you, sir apologist of the modern world, I should + like to pause here and ask you frankly: Do you not feel yourself more + contemporary with all the dead who slumber within these walls than with a + radical elector or a free-mason deputy? Do you not feel that if these + martyrs had not come to pray beneath these vaults eighteen hundred years + ago, the best part of your soul would not exist? Where will you find a + poetry more touching than that of these symbols and of these epitaphs? + That admirable De Rossi showed me one at Saint Calixtus last year. My + tears flow as I recall it. ‘Pete pro Phoebe et pro virginio ejus’. Pray + for Phoebus and for—How do you translate the word ‘virginius’, the + husband who has known only one wife, the virgin husband of a virgin + spouse? Your youth will pass, Dorsenne. You will one day feel what I feel, + the happiness which is wanting on account of bygone errors, and you will + comprehend that it is only to be found in Christian marriage, whose entire + sublimity is summed up in thus prayer: ‘Pro virginio ejus’.... You will be + like me then, and you will find in this book,” he held up ‘l’Eucologe’, + which he clasped in his hand, “something through which to offer up to God + your remorse and your regrets. Do you know the hymn of the Holy Sacrament, + ‘Adoro te, devote’? No. Yet you are capable of feeling what is contained + in these lines. Listen. It is this idea: That on the cross one sees only + the man, not the God; that in the host one does not even see the man, and + that yet one believes in the real presence. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In cruce latebat sola Deitas. + At hic latet simul et humanitas. + Ambo tamen credens atque confitens.... +</pre> + <p> + “And now this last verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Peto quod petivit latro poenitens! + + [I ask that which the penitent thief asked.] +</pre> + <p> + “What a cry! Ah, but it is beautiful! It is beautiful! What words to say + in dying! And what did the poor thief ask, that Dixmas of whom the church + has made a saint for that one appeal: ‘Remember me, Lord, in Thy kingdom!’ + But we have arrived. Stoop, that you may not spoil your hat. Now, what do + you want with me? You know the motto of the Montfanons: ‘Excelsior et + firmior’—Always higher and always firmer.... One can never do too + many good deeds. If it be possible, ‘present’, as we said to the + rollcall.” + </p> + <p> + A singular mixture of fervor and of good-nature, of enthusiastic eloquence + and of political or religious fanaticism, was Montfanon. But the + good-nature rapidly vanished from his face, at once so haughty and so + simple, in proportion as Dorsenne’s story proceeded. The writer, indeed, + did not make the error of at once formulating his proposition. He felt + that he could not argue with the pontifical zouave of bygone days. Either + the latter would look upon it as monstrous and absurd, or he would see in + it a charitable duty to be accomplished, and then, whatever annoyance the + matter might occasion him, he would accept it, as he would bestow alms. It + was that chord of generosity which Julien, diplomatic for once in his + life, essayed to touch by his confidence. Gaining authority by their + conversation of a few days before, he related all he could of Gorka’s + visit, concealing the fact of that word of honor so falsely given, which + still oppressed him with a mortal weight. He told how he had soothed the + madman, how he conducted him to the station, then he described the meeting + of the two rivals twenty-four hours later. He dwelt upon Alba’s manner + that evening and the infamy of the anonymous letters written to Madame + Steno’s discarded lover and to her daughter. And after he had reported the + mysterious quarrel which had suddenly arisen between Gorka and Chapron: + </p> + <p> + “I, therefore, promised to be his second,” he concluded, “because I + believe it my absolute duty to do all I can to prevent the duel from + taking place. Only think of it. If it should take place, and if one of + them is killed or wounded, how can the affair be kept secret in this + gossiping city of Rome? And what remarks it will call forth! It is evident + that these two boys have quarrelled only on account of the relations + between Madame Steno and Maitland. By what strange coincidence? Of that I + know nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But there will not be a doubt in public opinion. And can you not see + additional anonymous letters written to Alba, Madame Gorka, Madame + Maitland?... The men I do not care for.... Two out of three merit all that + comes to them. But those innocent creatures—is it not frightful?” + </p> + <p> + “Frightful, indeed,” replied Montfanon; “it is that which renders those + adulterous adventures so hideous. There are many people who are affected + by it besides the guilty ones.... You see that, you who thought that + society so pleasant, so refined, so interesting, the day before yesterday? + But it does no good to recriminate. I understand. You have come to ask me + to advise you in your role of second. My follies of youth will enable me + to direct you.... Correctness in the slightest detail and no nerves, when + one has to arrange a duel. Oh! You will have trouble. Gorka is mad. I know + the Poles. They have great faults, but they are brave. Lord, but they are + brave! And little Chapron, I know him, too; he has one of those stubborn + natures, which would allow their breasts to be pierced without saying + ‘Ouf!’ And ‘amour propre’. He has good soldier’s blood in his veins, that + child, notwithstanding the mixture. And with that mixture, do you not see + what a hero the first of the three Dumas, the mulatto general, has + been?... Yes. You have there a hard job, my good Dorsenne.... You will + need another second to assist you, who will have the same views as you and—pardon + me—more experience, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Marquis,” replied Julien, whose voice trembled with anxiety, “there is + only one person in Rome who would be respected enough, venerated by all, + so that his intervention in that delicate and dangerous matter be + decisive, one person who could suggest excuses to Chapron, or obtain them + from the other.... In short, there is only one person who has the + authority of a hero before whom they will remain silent when he speaks of + honor, and that person is you.” + </p> + <p> + “I,” exclaimed Montfanon, “I, you wish me to be—” + </p> + <p> + “One of Chapron’s seconds,” interrupted Dorsenne. “Yes. It is true. I come + on his part and for that. Do not tell me what I already know, that your + position will not allow of such a step. It is because it is what it is, + that I thought of coming to you. Do not tell me that your religious + principles are opposed to duels. It is that there may be no duel that I + conjure you to accept.... It is essential that it does not take place. I + swear to you, that the peace of too many innocent persons is concerned.” + </p> + <p> + And he continued, calling into service at that moment all the intelligence + and all the eloquence of which he was capable. He could follow on the face + of the former duellist, who had become the most ardent of Catholics and + the most monomaniacal of old bachelors, twenty diverse expressions. At + length Montfanon laid his hand with veritable solemnity on his + interlocutor’s arm and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Dorsenne, do not tell me any more.... I consent to what you ask + of me, but on two conditions. They are these: The first is that Monsieur + Chapron will trust absolutely to my judgment, whatsoever it may be; the + second is that you will retire with me if these gentlemen persist in their + childishness.... I promise to aid you in fulfilling a mission of charity, + and not anything else; I repeat, not anything else. Before bringing + Monsieur Chapron to me you will repeat to him what I have said, word for + word.” + </p> + <p> + “Word for word,” replied the other, adding: “He is at home awaiting the + result of my undertaking.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the Marquis, “I will return to Rome with you at once. He has + probably already received Gorka’s seconds, and if they really wish to + arrange a duel the rule is not to put it off.... I shall not see my + procession, but to prevent misfortune is to do a good deed, and it is one + way of praying to God.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me press your hand, my noble friend,” said Dorsenne; “never have I + better understood what a truly brave man is.” + </p> + <p> + When the writer alighted, three-quarters of an hour later, at the house on + the Rue Leopardi, after having seen Montfanon home, he felt sustained by + such moral support that was almost joyous. He found Florent in his species + of salon-smoking-room, arranging his papers with methodical composure. + </p> + <p> + “He accepts,” were the first words the young men uttered, almost + simultaneously, while Dorsenne repeated Montfanon’s words. + </p> + <p> + “I depend absolutely on you two,” replied the other. “I have no thirst for + Monsieur de Gorka’s blood.... But that gentleman must not accuse the + grandson of Colonel Chapron of cowardice.... For that I rely upon the + relative of General Dorsenne and on the old soldier of Charette.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Florent handed a letter to Julien, who asked: “From whom is + this?” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Florent, “is a letter addressed to you, on this very table + half an hour ago by Baron Hafner.... There is some news. I have received + my adversary’s seconds. The Baron is one, Ardea the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Baron Hafner!” exclaimed Dorsenne. “What a singular choice!” He paused, + and he and Florent exchanged glances. They understood one another without + speaking. Boleslas could not have found a surer means of informing Madame + Steno as to the plan he intended to employ in his vengeance. On the other + hand, the known devotion of the Baron for the Countess gave one chance + more for a pacific solution, at the same time that the fanaticism of + Montfanon would be confronted with Fanny’s father, an episode of comedy + suddenly cast across Gorka’s drama of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + Julien resumed with a smile: “You must watch Montfanon’s face when we + inform him of those two witnesses. He is a man of the fifteenth century, + you know, a Montluc, a Duc d’Alba, a Philippe II. I do not know which he + detests the most, the Freemasons, the Free-thinkers, the Protestants, the + Jews, or the Germans. And as this obscure and tortuous Hafner is a little + of everything, he has vowed hatred against him!... Leaving that out of the + question, he suspects him of being a secret agent in the service of the + Triple Alliance! But let us see the letter.” + </p> + <p> + He opened and glanced through it. “This craftiness serves for something, + it is equivalent almost to kindness. He, too, has felt that it is + necessary to end our affair, were it only to avoid scandal. He appoints a + meeting at his house between six and seven o’clock with me and your + second. Come, time is flying. You must come to the Marquis to make your + request officially. Begin this way. Obtain his promise before mentioning + Hafner’s name. I know him. He will not retract his word. But it is just.” + </p> + <p> + The two friends found Montfanon awaiting them in his office, a large room + filled with books, from which could be obtained a fine view of the + panorama of the Forum, more majestic still on that afternoon when the + shadows of the columns and arches grew longer on the sidewalk. The room + with its brick floor had no other comfort than a carpet under the large + desk littered with papers—no doubt fragments of the famous work on + the relations of the French nobility and the Church. A crucifix stood upon + the desk. On the wall were two engravings, that of Monseigneur Pie, the + holy Bishop of Poitiers, and that of General de Sonis, on foot, with his + wooden leg, and a painting representing St. Francois, the patron of the + house. Those were the only artistic decorations of the modest habitation. + The nobleman often said: “I have freed myself from the tyranny of + objects.” But with that marvellous background of grandiose ruins and that + sky, the simple spot was an incomparable retreat in which to end in + meditation and renouncement a life already shaken by the tempests of the + senses and of the world. + </p> + <p> + The hermit of that Thebaide rose to greet his two visitors, and pointing + out to Chapron an open volume on his table, he said to him: + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking of you. It is Chateauvillars’s book on duelling. It + contains a code which is not very complete. I recommend it to you, + however, if ever you have to fulfil a mission like ours,” and he pointed + to Dorsenne and himself, with a gesture which constituted the most + amicable of acceptations. “It seems you had too hasty a hand.... Ha! ha! + Do not defend yourself. Such as you see me, at twenty-one I threw a plate + in the face of a gentleman who bantered Comte de Chambord before a number + of Jacobins at a table d’hote in the provinces. See,” continued he, + raising his white moustache and disclosing a scar, “this is the souvenir. + The fellow was once a dragoon; he proposed the sabre. I accepted, and this + is what I got, while he lost two fingers.... That will not happen to us + this time at least.... Dorsenne has told you our conditions.” + </p> + <p> + “And I replied that I was sure I could not intrust my honor to better + hands,” replied Florent. + </p> + <p> + “Cease!” replied Montfanon, with a gesture of satisfaction. “No more + phrases. It is well. Moreover, I judged you, sir, from the day on which + you spoke to me at Saint Louis. You honor your dead. That is why I shall + be happy, very happy, to be useful to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me very clearly the recital you made to Dorsenne.” + </p> + <p> + Then Florent related concisely that which had taken place between him and + Gorka—that is to say, their argument and his passion, carefully + omitting the details in which the name of his brother-in-law would be + mixed. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” said Montfanon, familiarly, “the affair looks bad, very + bad.... You see, a second is a confessor. You have had a discussion in the + street with Monsieur Gorka, but about what? You can not reply? What did he + say to you to provoke you to the point of wishing to strike him? That is + the first key to the position.” + </p> + <p> + “I can not reply,” said Florent. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” resumed the Marquis, after a silence, “there only remains to + assert that the gesture on your part was—how shall I say? + Unmeditated and unfinished. That is the second key to the position.... You + have no special grudge against Monsieur Gorka?” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor he against you?” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + “The affair looks better,” said Montfanon, who was silent for a time, to + resume, in the voice of a man who is talking to himself, “Count Gorka + considers himself offended? But is there any offence? It is that which we + should discuss.... An assault or the threat of an assault would afford + occasion for an arrangement.... But a gesture restrained, since it was not + carried into effect.... Do not interrupt me,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to understand it clearly.... We must arrive at a solution. We + shall have to express our regret, leaving the field open to another + reparation, if Gorka requires it.... And he will not require it. The + entire problem now rests on the choice of his seconds.... Whom will he + select?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already received visits from them,” said Florent. “Half an hour + ago. One is Prince d’Ardea.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a gentleman,” replied Montfanon. “I shall not be sorry to see him + to tell him my feelings with regard to the public sale of his palace, to + which he should never have allowed himself to be driven.... And the + other?” + </p> + <p> + “The other?” interrupted Dorsenne. “Prepare yourself for a blow.... I + swear to you I did not know his name when I went in search of you at the + catacomb. It is—in short—it is Baron Hafner.” + </p> + <p> + “Baron Hafner!” exclaimed Montfanon. “Boleslas Gorka, the descendant of + the Gorkas, of that grand Luc Gorka who was Palatine of Posen and Bishop + of Cujavie, has chosen for his second Monsieur Justus Hafner, the thief, + the scoundrel, who had the disgraceful suit!... No, Dorsenne, do not tell + me that; it is not possible.” Then, with the air of a combatant: “We will + challenge him; that is all, for his lack of honor. I take it upon myself, + as well as to tell of his deeds to Boleslas. We will spend an enjoyable + quarter of an hour there, I promise you.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not do that,” said Dorsenne, quickly. “First, with regard to + official honor, there is only one law, is there not? Hafner was acquitted + and his adversaries condemned. You told me so the other day.... And then, + you forget the conversation we just had.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon,” interrupted Florent, in his turn. “Monsieur de Montfanon, in + promising to assist me, has done me a great honor, which I shall never + forget. If there should result from it any annoyance to him I should be + deeply grieved, and I am ready to release him from his promise.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Marquis, after another silence. “I will not take it + back.”.... He was so magnanimous when his two or three hobbies were not + involved that the slightest delicacy awoke an echo in him. He again + extended his hand to Chapron and continued, but with an accent which + betrayed suppressed irritation: “After all, it does not concern us if + Monsieur Gorka has chosen to be represented in an affair of honor by one + whom he should not even salute.... You will, then, give our two names to + those two gentlemen.... and Dorsenne and I will await them, as is the + rule.... It is their place to come, since they are the proxies of the + person insulted.” + </p> + <p> + “They have already arranged a meeting for this evening,” replied Chapron. + </p> + <p> + “What’s arranged? With whom? For whom?” exclaimed Montfanon, a prey to a + fresh access of choler. “With you?... For us?... Ah, I do not like such + conduct where such grave matters are concerned.... The code is absolute on + that subject.... Their challenge once made, to which you, Monsieur + Chapron, have to reply by yes or no, these gentlemen should withdraw + immediately.... It is not your fault, it is Ardea’s, who has allowed that + dabbler in spurious dividends to perform his part of intriguer.... But we + will rectify all in the right way, which is the French.... And where is + the rendezvous?” + </p> + <p> + “I will read to you the letter which the Baron left for me with Florent,” + said Dorsenne, who indeed read the very courteous note Hafner had written + to him, in which he excused himself for choosing his own house as a + rendezvous for the four witnesses. “One can not ignore so polite a note.” + </p> + <p> + “There are too many dear sirs, and too many compliments,” said Montfanon, + brusquely. “Sit here,” he continued, relinquishing his armchair to + Florent, “and inform the two men of our names and address, adding that we + are at their service and ignoring the first inaccuracy on their part. Let + them return!... And you, Dorsenne, since you are afraid of wounding that + gentleman, I will not prevent you from going to his house—personally, + do you hear—to warn him that Monsieur Chapron, here present, has + chosen for his first second a disagreeable person, an old duellist, + anything you like, but who desires strict form, and, first of all, a + correct call made upon us by them, in order to settle officially upon a + rendezvous.” + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” asked Dorsenne, when he with Florent descended + Montfanon’s staircase. “He is a different man since you mentioned the + Baron to him. The discussion between them will be a hot one. I hope he + will not spoil all by his folly. On my honor, if I had guessed whom Gorka + would choose I should not have suggested to you the old leaguer, as I call + him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, if Monsieur de Montfanon should make me fight at five paces,” + replied Chapron, with a laugh, “would be grateful to you for having + brought me into relations with him. He is a whole-souled man, as was my + poor father, as is Maitland. I adore such people.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there no means of having at once heart and head?” said Julien to + himself, on reaching the Palais Savorelli, where Hafner lived, and + recalling the Marquis’s choler on the one hand, and on the other the + egotism of Maitland, of which Florent’s last words reminded him. His + apprehension of the afternoon returned in a greater degree, for he knew + Montfanon to be very sensitive on certain points, and it was one of those + points which would be wounded to the quick by the forced relations with + Gorka’s witnesses. “I do not trust Hafner,” thought he; “if the cunning + fellow has accepted the mission utterly contrary to his tastes, his + habits, almost to his age, it must be to connive with his future + son-in-law and to conciliate all. Perhaps even the marriage had been + already settled? I hope not. The Marquis would be so furious he would + require the duel to a letter.” + </p> + <p> + The young man had guessed aright. Chance, which often brings one event + upon another, decreed that Ardea, at the very moment that he was + deliberating with Gorka as to the choice of another second, received a + note from Madame Steno containing simply these words: “Your proposal has + been made, and the answer is yes. May I be the first to embrace you, + Simpaticone?” + </p> + <p> + An ingenious idea occurred to him; to have arranged by his future + father-in-law the quarrel which he considered at once absurd, useless, and + dangerous. The eagerness with which Gorka had accepted Hafner’s name, + proved, as Dorsenne and Florent had divined, his desire that his + perfidious mistress should be informed of his doings. As for the Baron, he + consented—oh, irony of coincidences!—by saying to Peppino + Ardea words almost identical with those which Montfanon had uttered to + Dorsenne: + </p> + <p> + “We will draw up, in advance, an official plan of conciliation, and, if + the matter can not be arranged, we will withdraw.” + </p> + <p> + It was in such terms that the memorable conversation was concluded, a + conversation truly worthy of the combinazione which poor Fanny’s marriage + represented. There had been less question of the marriage itself than that + of the services to be rendered to the infidelity of the woman who presided + over the sorry traffic! Is it necessary to add that neither Ardea nor his + future father-in-law had made the shadow of an allusion to the true side + of the affair? Perhaps at any other time the excessive prudence innate to + the Baron and his care never to compromise himself would have deterred him + from the possible annoyances which might arise from an interference in the + adventure of an exasperated and discarded lover. But his joy at the + thought that his daughter was to become a Roman princess—and with + what a name!—had really turned his brain. + </p> + <p> + He had, however, the good sense to say to the stunned Ardea: “Madame Steno + must know nothing of it, at least beforehand. She would not fail to inform + Madame Gorka, and God knows of what the latter would be capable.” + </p> + <p> + In reality, the two men were convinced that it was essential, directly or + indirectly, to beware of warning Maitland. They employed the remainder of + the afternoon in paying their visit to Florent, then in sending telegram + after telegram to announce the betrothal, with which charming Fanny seemed + more satisfied since Cardinal Guerillot had consented, at simply a word + from her, to preside at her baptism. The Baron, in the face of that + consent, could not restrain his joy. He loved his daughter, strange man, + somewhat in the manner in which a breeder loves a favorite horse which has + won the Grand Prix for him. When Dorsenne arrived, bearing Chapron’s note + and Montfanon’s message, he was received with a cordiality and a + complaisance which at once enlightened him upon the result of the + matrimonial intrigue of which Alba had spoken to him. + </p> + <p> + “Anything that your friend wishes, my dear sir.... Is it not so, Peppino?” + said the Baron, seating himself at his table. “Will you dictate the letter + yourself, Dorsenne?... See, is this all right? You will understand with + what sentiments we have accepted this mission when you learn that Fanny is + betrothed to Prince Ardea, here present. The news dates from three + o’clock. So you are the first to know it, is he not, Peppino?” He had + drawn up not less than two hundred despatches. “Return whenever you like + with the Marquis.... I simply ask, under the circumstances, that the + interview take place, if it be possible, between six and seven, or between + nine and ten, in order not to interfere with our little family dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us say nine o’clock,” said Dorsenne. “Monsieur de Montfanon is + somewhat formal. He would like to have your reply by letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Prince Ardea to marry Mademoiselle Hafner!” That cry which the news + brought by Julien wrested from Montfanon was so dolorous that the young + man did not think of laughing. He had thought it wiser to prepare his + irascible friend, lest the Baron might make some allusion to the grand + event during the course of the conversation, and that the other might not + make some impulsive remark. + </p> + <p> + “Did I not tell you that the girl’s Catholicism was a farce? Did I not + tell Monseigneur Guerillot? This was what she aimed at all those years, + with such perfect hypocrisy? It was the Palais Castagna. And she will + enter there as mistress!... She will bring there the dishonor of that + pirated gold on which there are stains of blood! Warn them, that they do + not speak to me of it, or I will not answer for myself.... The second of a + Gorka, the father-in-law of an Ardea, he triumphs, the thief who should by + rights be a convict!... But we shall see. Will not all the other Roman + princes who have no blots upon their escutcheons, the Orsinis, the + Colonnas, the Odeschalchis, the Borgheses, the Rospigliosis, not combine + to prevent this monstrosity? Nobility is like love, those who buy those + sacred things degrade them in paying for them, and those to whom they are + given are no better than mire.... Princess d’Ardea! That creature! Ah, + what a disgrace!... But we must remember our engagement relative to that + brave young Chapron. The boy pleases me; first, because very probably he + is going to fight for some one else and out of a devotion which I can not + very well understand! It is devotion all the same, and it is chivalry!... + He desires to prevent that miserable Gorka from calling forth a scandal + which would have warned his sister.... And then, as I told him, he + respects the dead.... Let us.... I have my wits no longer about me, that + intelligence has so greatly disturbed me.... Princess d’Ardea!... Well, + write that we will be at Monsieur Hafner’s at nine o’clock.... I do not + want any of those people at my house.... At yours it would not be proper; + you are too young. And I prefer going to the father-in-law’s rather than + to the son-inlaw’s. The rascal has made a good bargain in buying what he + has bought with his stolen millions. But the other.... And his + great-great-uncle might have been Jules Second, Pie Fifth, Hildebrand; he + would have sold all just the same!... He can not deceive himself! He has + heard the suit against that man spoken of! He knows whence come those + millions! He has heard their family, their lives spoken of! And he has not + been inspired with too great a horror to accept the gold of that + adventurer. Does he not know what a name is? Our name! It is ourselves, + our honor, in the mouths, in the thoughts, of others! How happy I am, + Dorsenne, to have been fifty-two years of age last month. I shall be gone + before having seen what you will see, the agony of all the aristocrats and + royalties. It was only in blood that they fell! But they do not fall. + Alas! They fix themselves upon the ground, which is the saddest of all. + Still, what matters it? The monarchy, the nobility, and the Church are + everlasting. The people who disregard them will die, that is all. Come, + write your letter, which I will sign. Send it away, and you will dine with + me. We must go into the den provided with an argument which will prevent + this duel, and sustaining our part toward our client. There must be an + arrangement which I would accept myself. I like him, I repeat.” + </p> + <p> + The excitement which began to startle Dorsenne was only augmented during + dinner, so much the more so as, on discussing the conditions of that + arrangement he hoped to bring about, the recollection of his terrible + youth filled the thoughts and the discourse of the former duellist. Was + it, indeed, the same personage who recited the verses of a hymn in the + catacombs a few hours before? It only required the feudal in him to be + reawakened to transform him. The fire in his eyes and the color in his + face betrayed that the duel in which he had thought best to engage, out of + charity, intoxicated him on his own statement. It was the old amateur, the + epicure of the sword, very ungovernable, which stirred within that man of + faith, in whom passion had burned and who had loved all excitement, + including that of danger, as to-day he loved his ideas, as he loved his + flagi moderately. He no longer thought of the three women to be spared + suspicion, nor of the good deed to be accomplished. He saw all his old + friends and their talent for fighting, the thrusts of this one, the way + another had of striking, the composure of a third, and then this refrain + interrupted constantly his warlike anecdotes: “But why the deuce has Gorka + chosen that Hafner for his second?... It is incomprehensible.”.... On + entering the carriage which was to bear them to their interview, he heard + Dorsenne say to the coachman: “Palais Savorelli.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the final blow,” said he, raising his arm and clenching his fist. + “The adventurer occupies the Pretender’s house, the house of the + Stuarts.”.... He repeated: “The house of the Stuarts!” and then lapsed + into a silence which the writer felt to be laden with more storminess than + his last denunciation. He did not emerge from his meditations until + ushered into the salon of the ci-devant jeweller, now a grand seigneur—into + one of the salons, rather, for there were five. There Montfanon began to + examine everything around him, with an air of such contempt and pride + that, notwithstanding his anxiety, Dorsenne could not resist laughing and + teasing him by saying: + </p> + <p> + “You will not pretend to say that there are no pretty things here? These + two paintings by Moroni, for example?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing that is appropriate,” replied Montfanon. “Yes, they are two + magnificent portraits of ancestors, and this man has no ancestors!... + There are some weapons in that cupboard, and he has never touched a sword! + And there is a piece of tapestry representing the miracles of the loaves, + which is a piece of audacity! You may not believe me, Dorsenne, but it is + making me ill to be here.... I am reminded of the human toil, of the human + soul in all these objects, and to end here, paid for how? Owned by whom? + Close your eyes and think of Schroeder and of the others whom you do not + know. Look into the hovels where there is neither furniture, fire, nor + bread. Then, open your eyes and look at this.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, my dear friend,” replied the novelist, “I conjure you to think + of our conversation in the catacombs, to think of the three ladies in + whose names I besought you to aid Florent.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Montfanon, passing his hand over his brow, “I promise + you to be calm.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely uttered those words when the door opened, disclosing to + view another room, lighted also, and which, to judge by the sound of + voices, contained several persons. No doubt Madame Steno and Alba, thought + Julien; and the Baron entered, accompanied by Peppino Ardea. While going + through the introductions, the writer was struck by the contrast offered + between his three companions. Hafner and Ardea in evening dress, with + buttonhole bouquets, had the open and happy faces of two citizens who had + clear consciences. The usually sallow complexion of the business man was + tinged with excitement, his eyes, as a rule so hard, were gentler. As for + the Prince, the same childish carelessness lighted up his jovial face, + while the hero of Patay, with his coarse boots, his immense form enveloped + in a somewhat shabby redingote, exhibited a face so contracted that one + would have thought him devoured by remorse. A dishonest intendant, forced + to expose his accounts to generous and confiding masters, could not have + had a face more gloomy or more anxious. He had, moreover, put his one arm + behind his back in a manner so formal that neither of the two men who + entered offered him their hands. That appearance was without doubt little + in keeping with what the father and the fiance of Fanny had expected; for + there was, when the four men were seated, a pause which the Baron was the + first to break. He began in his measured tones, in a voice which handles + words as the weight of a usurer weighs gold pieces to the milligramme: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I believe I shall express our common sentiment in first of all + establishing a point which shall govern our meeting.... We are here, it is + understood, to bring about the work of reconciliation between two men, two + gentlemen whom we know, whom we esteem—I might better say, whom we + all love.”.... He turned, in pronouncing those words, successively to each + of his three listeners, who all bowed, with the exception of the Marquis. + Hafner examined the nobleman, with his glance accustomed to read the + depths of the mind in order to divine the intentions. He saw that + Chapron’s first witness was a troublesome customer, and he continued: + “That done, I beg to read to you this little paper.” He drew from his + pocket a sheet of folded paper and placed upon the end of his nose his + famous gold ‘lorgnon’: “It is very trifling, one of those directives, as + Monsieur de Moltke says, which serve to guide operations, a plan of action + which we will modify after discussion. In short, it is a landmark that we + may not launch into space.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, sir,” interrupted Montfanon, whose brows contracted still more at + the mention of the celebrated field-marshal, and, stopping by a gesture + the reader, who, in his surprise, dropped his lorgnon upon the table on + which his elbow rested. “I regret very much,” he continued, “to be obliged + to tell you that Monsieur Dorsenne and I”—here he turned to + Dorsenne, who made an equivocal gesture of vexation—“can not admit + the point of view in which you place yourself.... You claim that we are + here to arrange a reconciliation. That is possible.... I concede that it + is desirable.... But I know nothing of it and, permit me to say, you do + not know any more. I am here—we are here, Monsieur Dorsenne and I, + to listen to the complaints which Count Gorka has commissioned you to + formulate to Monsieur Florent Chapron’s proxies. Formulate those + complaints, and we will discuss them. Formulate the reparation you claim + in the name of your client and we will discuss it. The papers will follow, + if they follow at all, and, once more, neither you nor we know what will + be the issue of this conversation, nor should we know it, before + establishing the facts.” + </p> + <p> + “There is some misunderstanding, sir,” said Ardea, whom Montfanon’s words + had irritated somewhat. He could not, any more than Hafner, understand the + very simple, but very singular, character of the Marquis, and he added: “I + have been concerned in several ‘rencontres’—four times as second, + and once as principal—and I have seen employed without discussion + the proceeding which Baron Hafner has just proposed to you, and which of + itself is, perhaps, only a more expeditious means of arriving at what you + very properly call the establishment of facts.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware of the number of your affairs, sir,” replied Montfanon, + still more nervous since Hafner’s future son-in-law joined in the + conversation; “but since it has pleased you to tell us I will take the + liberty of saying to you that I have fought seven times, and that I have + been a second fourteen.... It is true that it was at an epoch when the + head of your house was your father, if I remember right, the deceased + Prince Urban, whom I had the honor of knowing when I served in the + zouaves. He was a fine Roman nobleman, and did honor to his name. What I + have told you is proof that I have some competence in the matter of a + duel.... Well, we have always held that seconds were constituted to + arrange affairs that could be arranged, but also to settle affairs, as + well as they can, that seem incapable of being arranged. Let us now + inquire into the matter; we are here for that, and for nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “Are these gentlemen of that opinion?” asked Hafner in a conciliatory + voice, turning first to Dorsenne, then to Ardea: “I do not adhere to my + method,” he continued, again folding his paper. He slipped it into his + vest-pocket and continued: “Let us establish the facts, as you say. Count + Gorka, our friend, considers himself seriously, very seriously, offended + by Monsieur Florent Chapron in the course of the discussion in a public + street. Monsieur Chapron was carried away, as you know, sirs, almost to—what + shall I say?—hastiness, which, however, was not followed by + consequences, thanks to the presence of mind of Monsieur Gorka.... But, + accomplished or not, the act remains. Monsieur Gorka was insulted, and he + requires satisfaction.... I do not believe there is any doubt upon that + point which is the cause of the affair, or, rather, the whole affair.” + </p> + <p> + “I again ask your pardon, sir,” said Montfanon, dryly, who no longer took + pains to conceal his anger, “Monsieur Dorsenne and I can not accept your + manner of putting the question.... You say that Monsieur Chapron’s + hastiness was not followed by consequences by reason of Monsieur Gorka’s + presence of mind. We claim that there was only on the part of Monsieur + Chapron a scarcely indicated gesture, which he himself restrained. In + consequence you attribute to Monsieur Gorka the quality of the insulted + party; you are over-hasty. He is merely the plaintiff, up to this time. It + is very different.” + </p> + <p> + “But by rights he is the insulted party,” interrupted Ardea. “Restrained + or not, it constitutes a threat of assault. I did not wish to claim to be + a duellist by telling you of my engagements. But this is the A B C of the + ‘codice cavalleresco’, if the insult be followed by an assault, he who + receives the blow is the offended party, and the threat of an assault is + equivalent to an actual assault. The offended party has the choice of a + duel, weapons and conditions. Consult your authors and ours: + Chateauvillars, Du Verger, Angelini and Gelli, all agree.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for their sakes,” said Montfanon, and he looked at the Prince + with a contraction of the brows almost menacing, “but it is an opinion + which does not hold good generally, nor in this particular case. The proof + is that a duellist, as you have just said,” his voice trembled as he + emphasized the insolence offered by the other, “a bravo, to use the + expression of your country, would only have to commit a justifiable murder + by first insulting him at whom he aims with rude words. The insulted + person replies by a voluntary gesture, on the signification of which one + may be mistaken, and you will admit that the bravo is the offended party, + and that he has the choice of weapons.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Marquis,” resumed Hafner, with evident disgust, so greatly did the + cavilling and the ill-will of the nobleman irritate him, “where are you + wandering to? What do you mean by bringing up chicanery of this sort?” + </p> + <p> + “Chicanery!” exclaimed Montfanon, half rising. + </p> + <p> + “Montfanon!” besought Dorsenne, rising in his turn and forcing the + terrible man to be seated. + </p> + <p> + “I retract the word,” said the Baron, “if it has insulted you. Nothing was + farther from my thoughts.... I repeat that I apologize, Marquis.... But, + come, tell us what you want for your client, that is very simple.... And + then we will do all we can to make your demands agree with those of our + client.... It is a trifling matter to be adjusted.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Montfanon, with insolent severity, “it is justice to be + rendered, which is very different. What we, Monsieur Dorsenne and I, + desire,” he continued in a severe voice, “is this: Count Gorka has gravely + insulted Monsieur Chapron. Let me finish,” he added upon a simultaneous + gesture on the part of Ardea and of Hafner. “Yes, sirs, Monsieur Chapron, + known to us all for his perfect courtesy, must have been very gravely + insulted, even to make the improper gesture of which you just spoke. But + it was agreed upon between these two gentlemen, for reasons of delicacy + which we had to accept—it was agreed, I say, that the nature of the + insult offered by Monsieur Gorka to Monsieur Chapron should not be + divulged.... We have the right, however, and I may add the duty devolves + upon us, to measure the gravity of that insult by the excess of anger + aroused in Monsieur Chapron.... I conclude from it that, to be just, the + plan of reconciliation, if we draw it up, should contain reciprocal + concessions. Count Gorka will retract his words and Monsieur Chapron + apologize for his hastiness.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” exclaimed the Prince; “Gorka will never accept that.” + </p> + <p> + “You, then, wish to have them fight the duel?” groaned Hafner. + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” said Montfanon, exasperated. “It would be better than for + the one to nurse his insults and the other his blow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sirs,” replied the Baron, rising after the silence which followed + that imprudent whim of a man beside himself, “we will confer again with + our client. If you wish, we will resume this conversation tomorrow at ten + o’clock, say here or in any place convenient to you.... You will excuse + me, Marquis. Dorsenne has no doubt told you under what circumstances—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he has told me,” interrupted Montfanon, who again glanced at the + Prince, and in a manner so mournful that the latter felt himself blush + beneath the strange glance, at which, however, it was impossible to feel + angry. Dorsenne had only time to cut short all other explanations by + replying to Justus Hafner himself. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like the meeting at my house? We shall have more chance to + escape remarks.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done well to change the place,” said Montfanon, five minutes + later, on entering the carriage with his young friend. + </p> + <p> + They had descended the staircase without speaking, for the brave and + unreasonable Marquis regretted his strangely provoking attitude of the + moment before. + </p> + <p> + “What would you have?” he added. “The profaned palace, the insolent luxury + of that thief, the Prince who has sold his family, the Baron whose part is + so sinister. I could no longer contain myself! That Baron, above all, with + his directives! Words to repeat when one is German, to a French soldier + who fought in 1870, like those words of Monsieur de Moltke! His terms, + too, applied to honor and that abominable politeness in which there is + servility and insolence!... Still, I am not satisfied with myself. I am + not at all satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + There was in his voice so much good-nature, such evident remorse at not + having controlled himself in so grave a situation, that Dorsenne pressed + his hand instead of reproaching him, as he said: + </p> + <p> + “It will do to-morrow.... We will arrange all; it has only been + postponed.” + </p> + <p> + “You say that to console me,” said the Marquis, “but I know it was very + badly managed. And it is my fault! Perhaps we shall have no other service + to render our brave Chapron than to arrange a duel for him under the most + dangerous conditions. Ah, but I became inopportunely angry!... But why the + deuce did Gorka select such a second? It is incomprehensible!... Did you + see what the cabalistic word gentleman means to those rascals: Steal, + cheat, assassinate, but have carriages perfectly appointed, a magnificent + mansion, well-served dinners, and fine clothes!... No, I have suffered too + much! Ah, it is not right; and on what a day, too? God! That the old man + might die!”.... he added, in a voice so low that his companion did not + hear his words. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 3. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. A LITTLE RELATIVE OF IAGO + </h2> + <p> + The remorse which Montfanon expressed so naively, once acknowledged to + himself, increased rapidly in the honest man’s heart. He had reason to say + from the beginning that the affair looked bad. A quarrel, together with + assault, or an attempt at assault, would not be easily set right. It + required a diplomatic miracle. The slightest lack of self-possession on + the part of the seconds is equivalent to a catastrophe. As happens in such + circumstances, events are hurried, and the pessimistic anticipations of + the irritable Marquis were verified almost as soon as he uttered them. + Dorsenne and he had barely left the Palais Savorelli when Gorka arrived. + The energy with which he repulsed the proposition of an arrangement which + would admit of excuses on his part, served prudent Hafner, and the not + less prudent Ardea, as a signal for withdrawal. It was too evident to the + two men that no reconciliation would result from a collision of such a + madman with a personage so difficult as the most authorized of Florent’s + proxies had shown himself to be. They then asked Gorka to relieve them + from their duty. They had too plausible an excuse in Fanny’s betrothal for + Boleslas to refuse to release them. That retirement was a second + catastrophe. In his impatience to find other seconds who would be firm, + Gorka hastened to the Cercle de la Chasse. Chance willed that he should + meet with two of his comrades—a Marquis Cibo, Roman, and a Prince + Pietrapertoso, Neapolitan, who were assuredly the best he could have + chosen to hasten the simplest affair to its worst consequences. + </p> + <p> + Those two young men of the best Italian families, both very intelligent, + very loyal and very good, belonged to that particular class which is to be + met with in Vienna, Madrid, St. Petersburg, as in Milan and in Rome, of + foreign club-men hypnotized by Paris. And what a Paris! That of showy and + noisy fetes, that which passes the morning in practising the sports in + fashion, the afternoons in racing, in frequenting fencing-schools, the + evening at the theatre and the night at the gaming-table! That Paris which + emigrates by turns, according to the season, to Monte Carlo for the ‘Tir + aux Pigeons’, to Deauville for the race week, to Aix-les-Bains for the + baccarat season; that Paris which has its own customs, its own language, + its own history, even its own cosmopolitanism, for it exercises over + certain minds, throughout Europe, so despotic a rule that Cibo, for + example, and his friend Pietrapertoso never opened a French journal that + was not Parisian. + </p> + <p> + They sought the short paragraphs in which were related, in detail, the + doings of the demi-monde, the last supper given by some well-known viveur, + the details of some large party in such and such a fashionable club, the + result of a shooting match, or of a fencing match between celebrated + fencers! There were between them subjects of conversation of which they + never wearied; to know if spirituelle Gladys Harvey was more elegant than + Leona d’Astri, if Machault made “counters” as rapid as those of General + Garnier, if little Lautrec would adhere or would not adhere to the game he + was playing. Imprisoned in Rome by the scantiness of their means, and also + by the wishes, the one of his uncle, the other of his grandfather, whose + heirs they were, their entire year was summed up in the months which they + spent at Nice in the winter, and in the trip they took to Paris at the + time of the Grand Prix for six weeks. Jealous one of the other, with the + most comical rivalry, of the least occurrence at the ‘Cercle des + Champs-Elysees’ or of the Rue Royale in the Eternal City, they affected, + in the presence of their colleagues of la chasse, the impassive manner of + augurs when the telegraph brought them the news of some Parisian scandal. + That inoffensive mania which had made of stout, ruddy Cibo, and of thin, + pale Pietrapertoso two delightful studies for Dorsenne during his Roman + winter, made of them terrible proxies in the service of Gorka’s vengeance. + </p> + <p> + With what joy and what gravity they accepted that mission all those who + have studied swordsmen will understand after this simple sketch, and with + what promptness they presented themselves to confer at nine o’clock in the + morning with their client’s adversary! In short, at half-past twelve the + duel was arranged in its slightest detail. The energy employed by + Montfanon had only ended in somewhat tempering the conditions—four + balls to be exchanged at twenty-five paces at the word of command. The + duel was fixed for the following morning, in the inclosure which Cibo + owned, with an inn adjoining, not very far distant from the classical tomb + of Cecilia Metella. To obtain that distance and the use of new weapons it + required the prestige with which the Marquis suddenly clothed himself in + the eyes of Gorka’s seconds by pronouncing the name, still legendary in + the provinces and to the foreigner, of Gramont-Caderousse—‘Sic + transit gloria mundi’! On leaving that rendezvous the excellent man really + had tears in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “It is my fault,” he moaned, “it is my fault. With that Hafner we should + have obtained such a fine official plan by mixing in a little of ours. He + offered it to us himself.... Brave Chapron! It is I who have brought him + into this dilemma!... I owe it to him not to abandon him, but to follow + him to the end.... Here I shall be assisting at a duel, at my age!... Did + you see how those young snobs lowered their voices when I mentioned my + encounter with poor Caderousse?... Fifty-two years and a month, and not to + know yet how to conduct one’s self! Let us go to the Rue Leopardi. I wish + to ask pardon of our client, and to give him some advice. We will take him + to one of my old friends who has a garden near the Villa Pamphili, very + secluded. We will spend the rest of the afternoon practising.... Ah! + Accursed choler! Yes, it would have been so simple to accept the other’s + plan yesterday. By the exchange of two or three words, I am sure it could + have been arranged.” + </p> + <p> + “Console yourself, Marquis,” replied Florent, when the unhappy nobleman + had described to him the deplorable result of his negotiations. “I like + that better. Monsieur Gorka needs correction. I have only one regret, that + of not having given it to him more thoroughly.... Since I shall have to + fight a duel, I would at least have had my money’s worth!” + </p> + <p> + “And you have never used a pistol?” asked Montfanon. + </p> + <p> + “Bah! I have hunted a great deal and I believe I can shoot.” + </p> + <p> + “That is like night and day,” interrupted the Marquis. “Hold yourself in + readiness. At three o’clock come for me and I will give you a lesson. And + remember there is a merciful God for the brave!” + </p> + <p> + Although Florent deserved praise for the cheerfulness of which his reply + was proof, the first moments which he spent alone after the departure of + his two witnesses were very painful. + </p> + <p> + That which Chapron experienced during those few moments was simply very + natural anxiety, the enervation caused by looking at the clock, and + saying: + </p> + <p> + “In twenty-four hours the hand will be on this point of the dial. And + shall I still be living?”.... He was, however, manly, and knew how to + control himself. He struggled against the feeling of weakness, and, while + awaiting the time to rejoin his friends, he resolved to write his last + wishes. For years his intention had been to leave his entire fortune to + his brother-in-law. He, therefore, made a rough draft of his will in that + sense, with a pen at first rather unsteady, then quite firm. His will + completed, he had courage enough to write two letters, addressed the one + to that brother-in-law, the other to his sister. When he had finished his + work the hands of the clock pointed to ten minutes of three. + </p> + <p> + “Still seventeen hours and a half to wait,” said he, “but I think I have + conquered my nerves. A short walk, too, will benefit me.” + </p> + <p> + So he decided to go on foot to the rendezvous named by Montfanon. He + carefully locked the three envelopes in the drawer of his desk. He saw, on + passing, that Lincoln was not in his studio. He asked the footman if + Madame Maitland was at home. The reply received was that she was dressing, + and that she had ordered her carriage for three o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said he, “neither of them will have the slightest suspicion; I am + saved.” + </p> + <p> + How astonished he would have been could he, while walking leisurely toward + his destination, have returned in thought to the smoking-room he had just + left! He would have seen a woman glide noiselessly through the open door, + with the precaution of a malefactor! He would have seen her examine, + without disarranging, all the papers on the table. She frowned on seeing + Dorsenne’s and the Marquis’s cards. She took from the blotting-case some + loose leaves and held them in front of the glass, trying to read there the + imprint left upon them. He would have seen finally the woman draw from her + pocket a bunch of keys. She inserted one of them in the lock of the drawer + which Florent had so carefully turned, and took from that drawer the three + unsealed envelopes he had placed within it. And the woman who thus read, + with a face contracted by anguish, the papers discovered in such a manner, + thanks to a ruse the abominable indelicacy of which gave proof of shameful + habits of espionage, was his own sister, the Lydia whom he believed so + gentle and so simple, to whom he had penned an adieu so tender in case he + should be killed—the Lydia who would have terrified him had he seen + her thus, with passion distorting the face which was considered + insignificant! She herself, the audacious spy, trembled as if she would + fall, her eyes dilated, her bosom heaved, her teeth chattered, so greatly + was she unnerved by what she had discovered, by the terrible consequences + which she had brought about. + </p> + <p> + Had she not written the anonymous letters to Gorka, denouncing to him the + intrigue between Maitland and Madame Steno? Was it not she who had chosen, + the better to poison those terrible letters, phrases the most likely to + strike the betrayed lover in the most sensitive part of his ‘amour + propre’? Was it not she who had hastened the return of the jealous man + with the certain hope of drawing thus a tragical vengeance upon the hated + heads of her husband and the Venetian? That vengeance, indeed, had broken. + But upon whom? Upon the only person Lydia loved in the world, upon the + brother whom she saw endangered through her fault; and that thought was to + her so overwhelming that she sank into the armchair in which Florent had + been seated fifteen minutes before, repeating, with an accent of despair: + “He is going to fight a duel. He is going to fight instead of the other!” + </p> + <p> + All the moral history of that obscure and violent soul was summed up in + the cry in which passionate anxiety for her brother was coupled with a + fierce hatred of her husband. That hatred was the result of a youth and a + childhood without the story of which a duplicity so criminal in a being so + young would be unintelligible. That youth and that childhood had presaged + what Lydia would one day be. But who was there to train the nature in + which the heredity of an oppressed race manifested itself, as has been + already remarked, by the two most detestable characteristics—hypocrisy + and perfidy? Who, moreover, observes in children the truth, as much + neglected in practise as it is common in theory, that the defects of the + tenth year become vices in the thirtieth? When quite a child Lydia + invented falsehoods as naturally as her brother spoke the truth.... + Whosoever observed her would have perceived that those lies were all told + to paint herself in a favorable light. The germ, too, of another defect + was springing up within her—a jealousy instinctive, irrational, + almost wicked. She could not see a new plaything in Florent’s hands + without sulking immediately. She could not bear to see her brother embrace + her father without casting herself between them, nor could she see him + amuse himself with other comrades. + </p> + <p> + Had Napoleon Chapron been interested in the study of character as deeply + as he was in his cotton and his sugarcane, he would have perceived, with + affright, the early traces of a sinful nature. But, on that point, like + his son, he was one of those trustful men who did not judge when they + loved. Moreover, Lydia and Florent, to his wounded sensibility of a + demi-pariah, formed the only pleasant corner in his life—were the + fresh and youthful comforters of his widowerhood and of his misanthropy. + He cherished them with the idolatry which all great workers entertain for + their children, which is one of the most dangerous forms of paternal + tenderness; Lydia’s incipient vices were to the planter delightful + fancies! Did she lie? The excellent man exclaimed: What an imagination she + has! Was she jealous? He would sigh, pressing to his broad breast the tiny + form: How sensitive she is!... The result of that selfish blindness—for + to love children thus is to love them for one’s self and not for them—was + that the girl, at the time of her entrance at Roehampton, was spoiled in + the essential traits of her character. But she was so pretty, she owed to + the singular mixture of three races an originality of grace so seductive + that only the keen glance of a governess of genius could have discerned, + beneath that exquisite exterior, the already marked lines of her + character. Such governesses are rare, still more so at convents than + elsewhere. There was none at Roehampton when Lydia entered that pious + haven which was to prove fatal to her, for a reason precisely contrary to + that which transformed for Florent the lawns of peaceful Beaumont into a + radiant paradise of friendship. + </p> + <p> + Among the pupils with whom Lydia was to be educated were four young girls + from Philadelphia, older than the newcomer by two years, and who, also, + had left America for the first time. They brought with them the + unconquerable aversion to negro blood and that wonderful keenness in + discovering it, even in the most infinitesimal degree, which distinguishes + real Yankees. Little Lydia Chapron, having been entered as French, they at + first hesitated in the face of a suspicion speedily converted into a + certainty and that certainty into an aversion, which they could not + conceal. They would not have been children had they not been unfeeling. + They, therefore, began to offer poor Lydia petty affronts. Convents and + colleges resemble other society. There, too, unjust contempt is like that + “ferret of the woods,” which runs from hand to hand and which always + returns to its point of setting out. All the scornful are themselves + scorned by some one—a merited punishment, which does not correct our + pride any more than the other punishments which abound in life cure our + other faults. Lydia’s persecutors were themselves the objects of outrages + practised by their comrades born in England, on account of certain + peculiarities in their language and for the nasal quality of their voices. + The drama was limited, as we can imagine, to a series of insignificant + episodes and of which the superintendents only surprised a demi-echo. + </p> + <p> + Children nurse passions as strong as ours, but so much interrupted by + playfulness that it is impossible to measure their exact strength. Lydia’s + ‘amour propre’ was wounded in an incurable manner by that revelation of + her own peculiarity. Certain incidents of her American life recurred to + her, which she comprehended more clearly. She recalled the portrait of her + grandmother, the complexion, the hands, the hair of her father, and she + experienced that shame of her birth and of her family much more common + with children than our optimism imagines. Parents of humble origin give + their sons a liberal education, expose them to the demoralization which it + brings with it in their positions, and what social hatreds date from the + moment when the boy of twelve blushes in secret at the condition of his + relatives! With Lydia, so instinctively jealous and untruthful, those + first wounds induced falsehood and jealousy. The slightest superiority + even, noticed in one of her companions, became to her a cause for + suffering, and she undertook to compensate by personal triumphs the + difference of blood, which, once discovered, wounds a vain nature. In + order to assure herself those triumphs she tried to win all the persons + who approached her, mistresses and comrades, and she began to practise + that continued comedy of attitude and of sentiment to which the fatal + desire to please, so quickly leads-that charming and dangerous tendency + which borders much less on goodness than falseness. At eighteen, submitted + to a sort of continual cabotinage, Lydia was, beneath the most attractive + exterior, a being profoundly, though unconsciously, wicked, capable of + very little affection—she loved no one truly but her brother—open + to the invasion of the passions of hatred which are the natural products + of proud and false minds. It was one of these passions, the most fatal of + all, which marriage was to develop within her—envy. + </p> + <p> + That hideous vice, one of those which govern the world, has been so little + studied by moralists, as all too dishonorable for the heart of man, no + doubt, that this statement may appear improbable. Madame Maitland, for + years, had been envious of her husband, but envious as one of the rivals + of an artist would be, envious as one pretty woman is of another, as one + banker is of his opponent, as a politician of his adversary, with the + fierce, implacable envy which writhes with physical pain in the face of + success, which is transported with a sensual joy in the face of disaster. + It is a great mistake to limit the ravages of that guilty passion to the + domain of professional emulation. When it is deep, it does not alone + attack the qualities of the person, but the person himself, and it was + thus that Lydia envied Lincoln. Perhaps the analysis of this sentiment, + very subtle in its ugliness, will explain to some a few of the antipathies + against which they have struck in their relatives. For it is not only + between husband and wife that these unavowed envies are met, it is between + lover and mistress, friend and friend, brother and brother, sometimes, + alas, father and son, mother and daughter! Lydia had married Lincoln + Maitland partly out of obedience to her brother’s wishes, partly from + vanity, because the young man was an American, and because it was a sort + of victory over the prejudices of race, of which she thought constantly, + but of which she never spoke. + </p> + <p> + It required only three months of married life to perceive that Maitland + could not forgive himself for that marriage. Although he affected to scorn + his compatriots, and although at heart he did not share any of the views + of the country in which he had not set foot since his fifth year, he could + not hear remarks made in New York upon that marriage without a pang. He + disliked Lydia for the humiliation, and she felt it. The birth of a child + would no doubt have modified that feeling, and, if it would not have + removed it, would at least have softened the embittered heart of the young + wife. But no child was born to them. They had not returned from their + wedding tour, upon which Florent accompanied them, before their lives + rolled along in that silence which forms the base of all those households + in which husband and wife, according to a simple and grand expression of + the people, do not live heart against heart. + </p> + <p> + After the journey through Spain, which should have been one continued + enchantment, the wife became jealous of the evident preference which + Florent showed for Maitland. For the first time she perceived the hold + which that impassioned friendship had taken upon her brother’s heart. He + loved her, too, but with a secondary love. The comparison annoyed her + daily, hourly, and it did not fail to become a real wound. Returned to + Paris, where they spent almost three years, that wound was increased by + the sole fact that the puissant individuality of the painter speedily + relegated to the shade the individuality of his wife, simply, almost + mechanically, like a large tree which pushes a smaller one into the + background. The composite society of artists, amateurs, and writers who + visited Lincoln came there only for him. The house they had rented was + rented only for him. The journeys they made were for him. In short, Lydia + was borne away, like Florent, in the orbit of the most despotic force in + the world—that of a celebrated talent. An entire book would be + required to paint in their daily truth the continued humiliations which + brought the young wife to detest that talent and that celebrity with as + much ardor as Florent worshipped them. She remained, however, an honest + woman, in the sense in which the word is construed by the world, which + sums up woman’s entire dishonor in errors of love. + </p> + <p> + But within Lydia’s breast grew a rooted aversion toward Lincoln. She + detested him for the pure blood which made of that large, fair, and robust + man so admirable a type of Anglo-Saxon beauty, by the side of her, so + thin, so insignificant indeed, in spite of the grace of her pretty, dark + face. She detested him for his taste, for the original elegance with which + he understood how to adorn the places in which he lived, while she + maintained within her a barbarous lack of taste for the least arrangement + of materials and of colors. When she was forced to acknowledge progress in + the painter, bitter hatred entered her heart. When he lamented over his + work, and when she saw him a prey to the dolorous anxiety of an artist who + doubts himself, she experienced a profound joy, marred only by the evident + sadness into which Lincoln’s struggles plunged Florent. Never had she met + the eyes of Chapron fixed upon Maitland with that look of a faithful dog + which rejoices in the joy of its master, or which suffers in his sadness, + without enduring, like Alba Steno, the sensation of a “needle in the + heart.” + </p> + <p> + The idolatrous worship of her brother for the painter caused her to suffer + still more as she comprehended, with the infallible perspicacity of + antipathy, the immense dupery. She read the very depths of the souls of + the two old comrades of Beaumont. She knew that in that friendship, as is + almost always the case, one alone gave all to receive in exchange only the + most brutal recognition, that with which a huntsman or a master gratifies + a faithful dog! As for enlightening Florent with regard to Lincoln’s + character, she had vainly tried to do so by those fine and perfidious + insinuations in which women excel. She only recognized her impotence, and + myriads of hateful impressions were thus accumulated in her heart, to be + summed up in one of those frenzies of taciturn rancor which bursts on the + first opportunity with terrifying energy. Crime itself has its laws of + development. Between the pretty little girl who wept on seeing a new toy + in her brother’s hand and the Lydia Maitland, forcer of locks, author of + anonymous letters, driven by the thirst for vengeance, even to villainy, + no dramatic revolution of character had taken place. The logical + succession of days had sufficed. + </p> + <p> + The occasion to gratify that deep and mortal longing to touch Lincoln on + some point truly sensitive, how often Lydia had sought it in vain, before + Madame Steno obtained an ascendancy over the painter. She had been reduced + by it to those meannesses of feminine animosity to manage, as if + accidentally, that her husband might read all the disagreeable articles + written about his paintings, innocently to praise before him the rivals + who had given him offense, to repeat to him with an air of embarrassment + the slightest criticisms pronounced on one of his exhibits—all the + unpleasantnesses which had the result of irritating Florent, above all, + for Maitland was one of those artists too well satisfied with the results + of his own work for the opinion of others to annoy him very much. On the + other hand, before the passion for the dogaresse had possessed him, he had + never loved. Many painters are thus, satisfying with magnificent models an + impetuosity of temperament which does not mount from the senses to the + heart. Accustomed to regard the human form from a certain point, they find + in beauty, which would appear to us simply animal, principles of plastic + emotion which at times suffice for their amorous requirements. They are + only more deeply touched by it, when to that rather coarse intoxication is + joined, in the woman who inspires them, the refined graces of mind, the + delicacy of elegance and the subtleties of sentiment. + </p> + <p> + Such was Madame Steno, who at once inspired the painter with a passion as + complete as a first love. It was really such. The Countess, who was + possessed of the penetration of voluptuousness, was not mistaken there. + Lydia, who was possessed of the penetration of hatred, was not mistaken + either. She knew from the first day how matters stood in the beginning, + because she was as observing as she was dissimulating; then, thanks to + means less hypothetic, she had always had the habit of making those + abominable inquiries which are natural, we venture to avow, to nine women + out of ten! And how many men are women, too, on this point, as said the + fabulist. At school Lydia was one of those who ascended to the dormitory, + or who reentered the study to rummage in the cupboards and open trunks of + her companions. When mature, never had a sealed letter passed through her + hands without her having ingeniously managed to read through the envelope, + or at least to guess from the postmark, the seal, the handwriting of the + address, who was the author of it. The instinct of curiosity was so strong + that she could not refrain, at a telegraph office, from glancing over the + shoulders of the persons before her, to learn the contents of their + despatches. She never had her hair dressed or made her toilette without + minutely questioning her maid as to the goings-on in the pantry and the + antechamber. It was through a story of that kind that she learned the + altercation between Florent and Gorka in the vestibule, which proves, + between parentheses, that these espionages by the aid of servants are + often efficacious. But they reveal a native baseness, which will not + recoil before any piece of villainy. + </p> + <p> + When Madame Maitland suspected the liaison of Madame Steno and her + husband, she no more hesitated to open the latter’s secretary than she + later hesitated to open the desk of her brother. The correspondence which + she read in that way was of a nature which exasperated her desire for + vengeance almost to frenzy. For not only did she acquire the evidence of a + happiness shared by them which humiliated in her the woman barren in all + senses of the word, a stranger to voluptuousness as well as to maternity, + but she gathered from it numerous proofs that the Countess cherished, with + regard to her, a scorn of race as absolute as if Venice had been a city of + the United States.... That part of the Adriatic abounds in prejudices of + blood, as do all countries which serve as confluents for every nation. It + is sufficient to convince one’s self of it, to have heard a Venetian treat + of the Slavs as ‘Cziavoni’, and the Levantines as ‘Gregugni’. + </p> + <p> + Madame Steno, in those letters she had written with all the familiarity + and all the liberty of passion, never called Lydia anything but La + Morettina, and by a very strange illogicalness never was the name of the + brother of La Morettina mentioned without a formula of friendship. As the + mistress treated Florent in that manner, it must be that she apprehended + no hostility on the part of her lover’s brother-in-law. Lydia understood + it only too well, as well as the fresh proof of Florent’s sentiments for + Lincoln. Once more he gave precedence to the friend over the sister, and + on what an occasion! The most secret wounds in her inmost being bled as + she read. The success of Alba’s portrait, which promised to be a + masterpiece, ended by precipitating her into a fierce and abominable + action. She resolved to denounce Madame Steno’s new love to the betrayed + lover, and she wrote the twelve letters, wisely calculated and graduated, + which had indeed determined Gorka’s return. His return had even been + delayed too long to suit the relative of Iago, who had decided to aim at + Madame Steno through Alba by a still more criminal denunciation. Lydia was + in that state of exasperation in which the vilest weapons seem the best, + and she included innocent Alba in her hatred for Maitland, on account of + the portrait, a turn of sentiment which will show that it was envy by + which that soul was poisoned above all. Ah, what bitter delight the + simultaneous success of that double infamy had procured for her! What + savage joy, mingled with bitterness and ecstacy, had been hers the day + before, on witnessing the nervousness of poor Alba and the suppressed fury + of Boleslas! + </p> + <p> + In her mind she had seen Maitland provoked by the rival whom she knew to + be as adroit with the sword as with the pistol. She would not have been + the great-grandchild of a slave of Louisiana, if she had not combined with + the natural energy of her hatreds a considerable amount of superstition. A + fortune-teller had once foretold, from the lines in her palm, that she + would cause the violent death of some person. “It will be he,” she had + thought, glancing at her husband with a horrible tremor of hope.... And + now she had the proof, the indisputable proof, that her plot for vengeance + was to terminate in the danger of another. Of what other? + </p> + <p> + The letter and will made by Florent disclosed to her the threat of a fatal + duel suspended over the head which was the dearest to her. So she had + driven to a tragical encounter the only being whom she loved.... The + disappointment of the heart in which palpitated the wild energies of a + bestial atavism was so sudden, so acute, so dolorous, that she uttered an + inarticulate cry, leaning upon her brother’s desk, and, in the face of + those sheets of paper which had revealed so much, she repeated: + </p> + <p> + “He is going to fight a duel! He!... And I am the cause!”.... Then, + returning the letters and the will to the drawer, she closed it and rose, + saying aloud: + </p> + <p> + “No. It shall not be. I will prevent it, if I have to cast myself between + them. I do not wish it! I do not wish it!” + </p> + <p> + It was easy to utter such words. But the execution of them was less easy. + Lydia knew it, for she had no sooner uttered that vow than she wrung her + hands in despair—those weak hands which Madame Steno compared in one + of her letters to the paws of a monkey, the fingers were so supple and so + long—and she uttered this despairing cry: “But how?”.... which so + many criminals have uttered before the issue, unexpected and fatal to + them, of their shrewdest calculations. The poet has sung it in the words + which relate the story of all our faults, great and small: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to plague us.” + </pre> + <p> + It is necessary that the belief in the equity of an incomprehensible judge + be well grounded in us, for the strongest minds are struck by a sinister + apprehension when they have to brave the chance of a misfortune absolutely + merited. The remembrance of the soothsayer’s prediction suddenly occurred + to Lydia. She uttered another cry, rubbing her hands like a somnambulist. + She saw her brother’s blood flowing.... No, the duel should not take + place! But how to prevent it? How-how? she repeated. Florent was not at + home. She could, therefore, not implore him. If he should return, would + there still be time? Lincoln was not at home. Where was he? Perhaps at a + rendezvous with Madame Steno. + </p> + <p> + The image of that handsome idol of love clasped in the painter’s arms, + plunged in the abyss of intoxication which her ardent letters described, + was presented to the mind of the jealous wife. What irony to perceive thus + those two lovers, whom she had wished to strike, with the ecstacy of bliss + in their eyes! Lydia would have liked to tear out their eyes, his as well + as hers, and to trample them beneath her heel. A fresh flood of hatred + filled her heart. God! how she hated them, and with what a powerless + hatred! But her time would come; another need pressed sorely—to + prevent the meeting of the following day, to save her brother. To whom + should she turn, however? To Dorsenne? To Montfanon? To Baron Hafner? To + Peppino Ardea? She thought by turns of the four personages whose almost + simultaneous visits had caused her to believe that they were the seconds + of the two champions. She rejected them, one after the other, + comprehending that none of them possessed enough authority to arrange the + affair. Her thoughts finally reverted to Florent’s adversary, to Boleslas + Gorka, whose wife was her friend and whom she had always found so + courteous. What if she should ask him to spare her brother? It was not + Florent against whom the discarded lover bore a grudge. Would he not be + touched by her tears? Would he not tell her what had led to the quarrel + and what she should ask of her brother that the quarrel might be + conciliated? Could she not obtain from him the promise to discharge his + weapon in the air, if the duel was with pistols, or, if it was with + swords, simply to disarm his enemy? + </p> + <p> + Like nearly all persons unversed in the art, she believed in infallible + fencers, in marksmen who never missed their aim, and she had also ideas + profoundly, absolutely inexact on the relations of one man with another in + the matter of an insult. But how can women admit that inflexible rigor in + certain cases, which forms the foundation of manly relations, when they + themselves allow of a similar rigor neither in their arguments with men, + nor in their discussions among themselves? Accustomed always to appeal + from convention to instinct and from reason to sentiment, they are, in the + face of certain laws, be they those of justice or of honor, in a state of + incomprehension worse than ignorance. A duel, for example, appears to them + like an arbitrary drama, which the wish of one of those concerned can + change at his fancy. Ninety-nine women out of a hundred would think like + Lydia Maitland of hastening to the adversary of the man they love, to + demand, to beg for his life. Let us add, however, that the majority would + not carry out that thought. They would confine themselves to sewing in the + vest of their beloved some blessed medal, in recommending him to the + Providence, which, for them, is still the favoritism of heaven. Lydia felt + that if ever Florent should learn of her step with regard to Gorka, he + would be very indignant. But who would tell him? She was agitated by one + of those fevers of fear and of remorse which are too acute not to act, + cost what it might. Her carriage was announced, and she entered it, giving + the address of the Palazzetto Doria. In what terms should she approach the + man to whom she was about to pay that audacious and absurd visit? Ah, what + mattered it? The circumstances would inspire her. Her desire to cut short + the duel was so strong that she did not doubt of success. + </p> + <p> + She was greatly disappointed when the footman at the palace told her that + the Count had gone out, while at the same moment a voice interrupted him + with a gay laugh. It was Countess Maud Gorka, who, returning from her walk + with her little boy, recognized Lydia’s coup, and who said to her: + </p> + <p> + “What a lucky idea I had of returning a little sooner. I see you were + afraid of a storm, as you drove out in a closed carriage. Will you come + upstairs a moment?” And, perceiving that the young woman, whose hand she + had taken, was trembling: “What ails you? I should think you were ill! You + do not feel well? My God, what ails her! She is ill, Luc,” she added, + turning to her son; “run to my room and bring me the large bottle of + English salts; Rose knows which one. Go, go quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” replied Lydia, who had indeed closed her eyes as if on + the point of swooning. “See, I am better already. I think I will return + home; it will be wiser.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not leave you,” said Maud, seating herself, too, in the carriage; + and, as they handed her the bottle of salts, she made Madame Maitland + inhale it, talking to her the while as to a sick child: “Poor little + thing!” + </p> + <p> + “How her cheeks burn! And you pay visits in this state. It is very + venturesome! Rue Leopardi,” she called to the coachman, “quickly.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage rolled away, and Madame Gorka continued to press the tiny + hands of Lydia, to whom she gave the tender name, so ironical under the + circumstances, of “Poor little one!” Maud was one of those women like whom + England produces many, for the honor of that healthy and robust British + civilization, who are at once all energy and all goodness. As large and + stout as Lydia was slender, she would rather have borne her to her bed in + her vigorous arms than to have abandoned her in the troubled state in + which she had surprised her. Not less practical and, as her compatriots + say, as matter-of-fact as she was charitable, she began to question her + friend on the symptoms which had preceded that attack, when with + astonishment she saw that altered face contract, tears gushing from the + closed eyes, and the fragile form convulsed by sobs. Lydia had a nervous + attack caused by anxiety, by the fresh disappointment of Boleslas’s + absence from home, and no doubt, too, by the gentleness with which Maud + addressed her, and tearing her handkerchief with her white teeth, she + moaned: + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not ill. But it is that thought which I can not bear. No, I can + not. Ah, it is maddening!” And turning toward her companion, she in her + turn pressed her hands, saying: “But you know nothing! You suspect + nothing! It is that which maddens me, when I see you tranquil, calm, + happy, as if the minutes were not valuable, every one, to-day, to you as + well as to me. For if one is my brother, the other is your husband; and + you love him. You must love him, to have pardoned him for what you have + pardoned him.” + </p> + <p> + She had spoken in a sort of delirium, brought about by her extreme nervous + excitement, and she had uttered, she, usually so dissembling, her very + deepest thought. She did not think she was giving Madame Gorka any + information by that allusion, so direct, to the liaison of Boleslas with + Madame Steno. She was persuaded, as was entire Rome, that Maud knew of her + husband’s infidelities, and that she tolerated them by one of those heroic + sacrifices which maternity justifies. How many women have immolated thus + their wifely pride to maintain the domestic relation which the father + shall at least not desert officially! All Rome was mistaken, and Lydia + Maitland was to have an unexpected proof. Not a suspicion that such an + intrigue could unite her husband with the mother of her best friend had + ever entered the thoughts of Boleslas’s wife. But to account for that, it + is necessary to admit, as well, and to comprehend the depth of innocence + of which, notwithstanding her twenty-six years, the beautiful and healthy + Englishwoman, with her eyes so clear, so frank, was possessed. + </p> + <p> + She was one of those persons who command the respect of the boldest of + men, and before whom the most dissolute women exercised care. She might + have seen the freedom of Madame Steno without being disillusioned. She had + only a liking for acquaintances and positive conversation. She was very + intellectual, but without any desire to study character. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne said of her, with more justness than he thought: “Madame Boleslas + Gorka is married to a man who has never been presented to her,” meaning by + that, that first of all she had no idea of her husband’s character, and + then of the treason of which she was the victim. However, the novelist was + not altogether right. Boleslas’s infidelity was of too long standing for + the woman passionately, religiously loyal, who was his wife, not to have + suffered by it. But there was an abyss between such sufferings and the + intuition of a determined fact such as that which Lydia had just + mentioned, and such a suspicion was so far from Maud’s thoughts that her + companion’s words only aroused in her astonishment at the mysterious + danger of which Lydia’s troubles was a proof more eloquent still than her + words. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother? My husband?” she said. “I do not understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” replied Lydia, “he has hidden all from you, as Florent hid + all from me. Well! They are going to fight a duel, and to-morrow + morning.... Do not tremble, in your turn,” she continued, twining her arms + around Maud Gorka. “We shall be two to prevent the terrible affair, and we + shall prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “A duel? To-morrow morning?” repeated Maud, in affright. “Boleslas fights + to-morrow with your brother? No, it is impossible. Who told you so? How do + you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “I read the proof of it with my eyes,” replied Lydia. “I read Florent’s + will. I read the letter which he prepared for Maitland and for me in case + of accident....” + </p> + <p> + “Should I be in the state in which you see me if it were not true?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I believe you!” cried Maud, pressing her hands to her eyelids, as if + to shut out a horrible sight. “But where can they be seen? Boleslas has + been here scarcely any of the time for two days. What is there between + them? What have they said to one another? One does not risk one’s life for + nothing when he has, like Boleslas, a wife and a son. Answer me, I conjure + you. Tell me all. I desire to know all. What is there at the bottom of + this duel?” + </p> + <p> + “What could there be but a woman?” interrupted Lydia, who put into the two + last words more savage scorn than if she had publicly spit in Caterina + Steno’s face. But that fresh access of anger fell before the surprise + caused her by Madame Gorka’s reply. + </p> + <p> + “What woman? I understand you still less than I did just now.” + </p> + <p> + “When we are at home I will speak,”.... replied Lydia, after having looked + at Maud with a surprised glance, which was in itself the most terrible + reply. The two women were silent. It was Maud who now required the + sympathy of friendship, so greatly had the words uttered by Lydia startled + her. The companion whose arm rested upon hers in that carriage, and who + had inspired her with such pity fifteen minutes before, now rendered her + fearful. She seemed to be seated by the side of another person. In the + creature whose thin nostrils were dilated with passion, whose mouth was + distorted with bitterness, whose eyes sparkled with anger, she no longer + recognized little Madame Maitland, so taciturn, so reserved that she was + looked upon as insignificant. What had that voice, usually so musical, + told her; that voice so suddenly become harsh, and which had already + revealed to her the great danger suspended over Boleslas? To what woman + had that voice alluded, and what meant that sudden reticence? + </p> + <p> + Lydia was fully aware of the grief into which she would plunge Maud + without the slightest premeditation. For a moment she thought it almost a + crime to say more to a woman thus deluded. But at the same time she saw in + the revelation two certain results. In undeceiving Madame Gorka she made a + mortal enemy for Madame Steno, and, on the other hand, never would the + woman so deeply in love with her husband allow him to fight for a former + mistress. So, when they both entered the small salon of the Moorish + mansion, Lydia’s resolution was taken. She was determined to conceal + nothing of what she knew from unhappy Maud, who asked her, with a beating + heart, and in a voice choked by emotion: + </p> + <p> + “Now, will you explain to me what you want to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Question me,” replied the other; “I will answer you. I have gone too far + to draw back.” + </p> + <p> + “You claimed that a woman was the cause of the duel between your brother + and my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it,” replied Lydia. + </p> + <p> + “What is that woman’s name?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Steno.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Steno?” repeated Maud. “Catherine Steno is the cause of that duel? + How?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she is my husband’s mistress,” replied Lydia, brutally; “because + she has been your husband’s, because Gorka came here, mad with jealousy, + to provoke Lincoln, and because he met my brother, who prevented him from + entering.... They quarrelled, I know not in what manner. But I know the + cause of the duel.... Am I right, yes or no, in telling you they are to + fight about that woman?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband’s mistress?” cried Maud. “You say Madame Steno has been my + husband’s mistress? It is not true. You lie! You lie! You lie! I do not + believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe me?” said Lydia, shrugging her shoulders. “As if I had + the least interest in deceiving you; as if one would lie when the life of + the only being one loves in the world is in the balance! For I have only + my brother, and perhaps to-morrow I shall no longer have him.... But you + shall believe me. I desire that we both hate that woman, that we both be + avenged upon her, as we both do not wish the duel to take place—the + duel of which, I repeat, she is the cause, the sole cause.... You do not + believe me? Do you know what caused your husband to return? You did not + expect him; confess! It was I—I, do you hear—who wrote him + what Steno and Lincoln were doing; day after day I wrote about their love, + their meetings, their bliss. Ah, I was sure it would not be in vain, and + he returned. Is that a proof?” + </p> + <p> + “You did not do that?” cried Madame Gorka, recoiling with horror. “It was + infamous.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did it,” replied Lydia, with savage pride, “and why not? It was my + right when she took my husband from me. You have only to return and to + look in the place where Gorka keeps his letters. You will certainly find + those I wrote, and others, I assure you, from that woman. For she has a + mania for letter-writing.... Do you believe me now, or will you repeat + that I have lied?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” returned Maud, with sorrowful indignation upon her lovely, loyal + face, “no, never will I descend to such baseness.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will descend for you,” said Lydia. “What you do not dare to do, I + will dare, and you will ask me to aid you in being avenged. Come,” and, + seizing the hand of her stupefied companion, she drew her into Lincoln’s + studio, at that moment unoccupied. She approached one of those Spanish + desks, called baygenos, and she touched two small panels, which disclosed, + on opening, a secret drawer, in which were a package of letters, which she + seized. Maud Gorka watched her with the same terrified horror with which + she would have seen some one killed and robbed. That honorable soul + revolted at the scene in which her mere presence made of her an + accomplice. But at the same time she was a prey, as had been her husband + several days before, to that maddening appetite to know the truth, which + becomes, in certain forms of doubt, a physical need, as imperious as + hunger and thirst, and she listened to Florent’s sister, who continued: + </p> + <p> + “Will it be a proof when you have seen the affair written in her own hand? + Yes,” she continued, with cruel irony, “she loves correspondence, our + fortunate rival. Justice must be rendered her that she may make no more + avowals. She writes as she feels. It seems that the successor was jealous + of his predecessor.... See, is this a proof this time?”.... And, after + having glanced at the first letters as a person familiar with them, she + handed one of those papers to Maud, who had not the courage to avert her + eyes. What she saw written upon that sheet drew from her a cry of anguish. + She had, however, only read ten lines, which proved how much mistaken + psychological Dorsenne was in thinking that Maitland was ignorant of the + former relations between his mistress and Gorka. Countess Steno’s + grandeur, that which made a courageous woman almost a heroine in her + passions, was an absolute sincerity and disgust for the usual pettiness of + flirtations. She would have disdained to deny to a new lover the knowledge + of her past, and the semiavowals, so common to women, would have seemed to + her a cowardice still worse. She had not essayed to hide from Maitland + what connection she had broken off for him, and it was upon one of those + phrases, in which she spoke of it openly, that Madame Gorka’s eyes fell: + </p> + <p> + “You will be pleased with me,” she wrote, “and I shall no longer see in + your dear blue eyes which I kiss, as I love them, that gleam of mistrust + which troubles me. I have stopped the correspondence with Gorka. If you + require it, I will even break with Maud, notwithstanding the reason you + know of and which will render it difficult for me. But how can you be + jealous yet?... Is not my frankness with regard to that liaison the surest + guarantee that it is ended? Come, do not be jealous. Listen to what I know + so well, that I felt I loved, and that my life began only on the day when + you took me in your arms. The woman you have awakened in me, no one has + known—” + </p> + <p> + “She writes well, does she not?” said Lydia, with a gleam of savage + triumph in her eyes. “Do you believe me, now?... Do you see that we have + the same interest to-day, a common affront to avenge? And we will avenge + it.... Do you understand that you can not allow your husband to fight a + duel with my brother? You owe that to me who have given you this weapon by + which you hold him.... Threaten him with a divorce. Fortune is with you. + The law will give you your child. I repeat, you hold him firmly. You will + prevent the duel, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! What do you think it matters to me now if they fight or not?” said + Maud. “From the moment he deceived me was I not widowed? Do not approach + me,” she added, looking at Lydia with wild eyes, while a shudder of + repulsion shook her entire frame.... “Do not speak to me.... I have as + much horror of you as of him.... Let me go, let me leave here.... Even to + feel myself in the same room with you fills me with horror.... Ah, what + disgrace!” + </p> + <p> + She retreated to the door, fixing upon her informant a gaze which the + other sustained, notwithstanding the scorn in it, with the gloomy pride of + defiance. She went out repeating: “Ah, what disgrace!” without Lydia + having addressed her, so greatly had surprise at the unexpected result of + all her attempts paralyzed her. But the formidable creature lost no time + in regret and repentance. She paused a few moments to think. Then, + crushing in her nervous hand the letter she had shown Maud, at the risk of + being discovered by her husband later, she said aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Coward! Lord, what a coward she is! She loves. She will pardon. Will + there, then, be no one to aid me? No one to smite them in their insolent + happiness.” After meditating awhile, her face still more contracted, she + placed the letter in the drawer, which she closed again, and half an hour + later she summoned a commissionaire, to whom she intrusted a letter, with + the order to deliver it immediately, and that letter was addressed to the + inspector of police of the district. She informed him of the intended + duel, giving him the names of the two adversaries and of the four seconds. + If she had not been afraid of her brother, she would even that time have + signed her name. + </p> + <p> + “I should have gone to work that way at first,” said she to herself, when + the door of the small salon closed behind the messenger to whom she had + given her order personally. “The police know how to prevent them from + fighting, even if I do not succeed with Florent.... As for him?”.... and + she looked at a portrait of Maitland upon the desk at which she had just + been writing. “Were I to tell him what is taking place.... No, I will ask + nothing of him.... I hate him too much.”.... And she concluded with a + fierce smile, which disclosed her teeth at the corners of her mouth: + </p> + <p> + “It is all the same. It is necessary that Maud Gorka work with me against + her. There is some one whom she will not pardon, and that is.... Madame + Steno.” And, in spite of her uneasiness, the wicked woman trembled with + delight at the thought of her work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ON THE GROUND + </h2> + <p> + When Maud Gorka left the house on the Rue Leopardi she walked on at first + rapidly, blindly, without seeing, without hearing anything, like a wounded + animal which runs through the thicket to escape danger, to escape its + wounds, to escape itself. It was a little more than half-past three + o’clock when the unhappy woman hastened from the studio, unable to bear + near her the presence of Lydia Maitland, of that sinister worker of + vengeance who had so cruelly revealed to her, with such indisputable + proofs, the atrocious affair, the long, the infamous, the inexpiable + treason. + </p> + <p> + It was almost six o’clock before Maud Gorka really regained consciousness. + A very common occurrence aroused her from the somnambulism of suffering in + which she had wandered for two hours. The storm which had threatened since + noon at length broke. Maud, who had scarcely heeded the first large drops, + was forced to seek shelter when the clouds suddenly burst, and she took + refuge at the right extremity of the colonnade of St. Peter’s. How had she + gone that far? She did not know herself precisely. She remembered vaguely + that she had wandered through a labyrinth of small streets, had crossed + the Tiber—no doubt by the Garibaldi bridge—had passed through + a large garden—doubtless the Janicule, since she had walked along a + portion of the ramparts. She had left the city by the Porte de + Saint-Pancrace, to follow by that of Cavallegieri the sinuous line of the + Urban walls. + </p> + <p> + That corner of Rome, with a view of the pines of the Villa Pamfili on one + side, and on the other the back part of the Vatican, serves as a promenade + during the winter for the few cardinals who go in search of the afternoon + sun, certain there of meeting only a few strangers. In the month of May it + is a desert, scorched by the sun, which glows upon the brick, discolored + by two centuries of that implacable heat which caresses the scales of the + green and gray lizards about to crawl between the bees of Pope Urbain + VIII’s escutcheon of the Barberini family. Madame Gorka’s instinct had at + least served her in leading her upon a route on which she met no one. Now + the sense of reality returned. She recognized the objects around her, and + that framework, so familiar to her piety of fervent Catholicism, the + enormous square, the obelisk of Sixte-Quint in the centre, the fountains, + the circular portico crowned with bishops and martyrs, the palace of the + Vatican at the corner, and yonder the facade of the large papal cathedral, + with the Saviour and the apostles erect upon the august pediment. + </p> + <p> + On any other occasion in life the pious young woman would have seen in the + chance which led her thither, almost unconsciously, an influence from + above, an invitation to enter the church, there to ask the strength to + suffer of the God who said: “Let him who wishes follow me, let him + renounce all, let him take up his cross and follow me!” But she was + passing through that first bitter paroxysm of grief in which it is + impossible to pray, so greatly does the revolt of nature cry out within + us. Later, we may recognize the hand of Providence in the trial imposed + upon us. We see at first only the terrible injustice of fate, and we + tremble in the deepest recesses of our souls with rebellion at the blow + from which we bleed. That which rendered the rebellion more invincible and + more fierce in Maud, was the suddenness of the mortal blow. + </p> + <p> + Daily some pure, honest woman, like her, acquires the proof of the treason + of a husband whom she has not ceased to love. Ordinarily, the indisputable + proof is preceded by a long period of suspicion. The faithless one + neglects his hearth. A change takes place in his daily habits. Various + hints reveal to the outraged wife the trace of a rival, which woman’s + jealousy distinguishes with a scent as certain as that of a dog which + finds a stranger in the house. And, finally, although there is in the + transition from doubt to certainty a laceration of the heart, it is at + least the laceration of a heart prepared. That preparation, that + adaptation, so to speak, of her soul to the truth, Maud had been deprived + of. The care taken by Madame Steno to strengthen the friendship between + her and Alba had suppressed the slightest signs. Boleslas had no need to + change his domestic life in order to see his mistress at his convenience + and in an intimacy entertained, provoked, by his wife herself. The wife, + too, had been totally, absolutely deceived. She had assisted in her + husband’s adultery with one of those illusions so complete that it seemed + improbable to the indifferent and to strangers. The awakening from such + illusions is the most terrible. That man whom society considered a + complaisant husband, that woman who seemed so indulgent a wife, suddenly + find that they have committed a murder or a suicide, to the great + astonishment of the world which, even then, hesitates to recognize in that + access of folly the proof, the blow, more formidable, more instantaneous + in its ravages, than those of love-sudden disillusion. When the disaster + is not interrupted by acts of violence, it causes an irreparable + destruction of the youthfulness of the soul, it is the idea instilled in + us forever that all can betray, since we have been betrayed in that + manner. It is for years, for life, sometimes, that powerlessness to be + affected, to hope, to believe, which caused Maud Gorka to remain, on that + afternoon, leaning against the pedestal of a column, watching the rain + fall, instead of ascending to the Basilica, where the confessional offers + pardon for all sins and the remedy for all sorrows. Alas! It was + consolation simply to kneel there, and the poor woman was only in the + first stage of Calvary. + </p> + <p> + She watched the rain fall, and she found a savage comfort in the + formidable character of the storm, which seemed like a cataclysm of + nature, to such degree did the flash of the lightning and the roar of the + thunder mingle with the echoes of the vast palace beneath the lash of the + wind. Forms began to take shape in her mind, after the whirlwind of blind + suffering in which she felt herself borne away after the first glance cast + upon that fatal letter. Each word rose before her eyes, so feverish that + she closed them with pain. The last two years of her life, those which had + bound her to Countess Steno, returned to her thoughts, illuminated by a + brilliance which drew from her constantly these words, uttered with a + moan: How could he? She saw Venice and their sojourn in the villa to which + Boleslas had conducted her after the death of their little girl, in order + that there, in the restful atmosphere of the lagoon, she might overcome + the keen paroxysm of pain. + </p> + <p> + How very kind and delicate Madame Steno had been at that time; at least + how kind she had seemed, and how delicate likewise, comprehending her + grief and sympathizing with it.... Their superficial relations had + gradually ripened into friendship. Then, no doubt, the treason had begun. + The purloiner of love had introduced herself under cover of the pity in + which Maud had believed. Seeing the Countess so generous, she had treated + as calumny the slander of the world relative to a person capable of such + touching kindness of heart. And it was at that moment that the false woman + took Boleslas from her! A thousand details recurred to her which at the + time she had not understood; the sails of the two lovers in the gondola, + which she had not even thought of suspecting; a visit which Boleslas had + made to Piove and from which he only returned the following day, giving as + a pretext a missed train; words uttered aside on the balcony of the Palais + Steno at night, while she talked with Alba. Yes, it was at Venice that + their adultery began, before her who had divined nothing, her whose heart + was filled with inconsolable regret for her lost darling! Ah, how could + he? she moaned again, and the visions multiplied. + </p> + <p> + In her mind were then opened all the windows which Gorka’s perfidity and + the Countess’s as well, had sealed with such care. She saw again the + months which followed their return to Rome, and that mode of life so + convenient for both. How often had she walked out with Alba, thus freeing + the mother and the husband from the only surveillance annoying to them. + What did the lovers do during those hours? How many times on returning to + the Palazzetto Doria had she found Catherine Steno in the library, seated + on the divan beside Boleslas, and she had not mistrusted that the woman + had come, during her absence, to embrace that man, to talk to him of love, + to give herself to him, without doubt, with the charm of villainy and of + danger! She remembered the episode of their meeting at Bayreuth the + previous summer, when she went to England alone with her son, and when her + husband undertook to conduct Alba and the Countess from Rome to Bavaria. + They had all met at Nuremberg. The apartments of the hotel in which the + meeting took place became again very vivid in Maud’s memory, with Madame + Steno’s bedroom adjoining that of Boleslas’s. + </p> + <p> + The vision of their caresses, enjoyed in the liberty of the night, while + innocent Alba slept near by, and when she rolled away in a carriage with + little Luc, drew from her this cry once more: “Ah, how could he!”.... And + immediately that vision awoke in her the remembrance of her husband’s + recent return. She saw him traversing Europe on the receipt of an + anonymous letter, to reach that woman’s side twenty-four hours sooner. + What a proof of passion was the frenzy which had not allowed him any + longer to bear doubt and absence!... Did he love the mistress who did not + even love him, since she had deceived him with Maitland? And he was going + to fight a duel on her account!... Jealousy, at that moment, wrung the + wife’s heart with a pang still stronger than that of indignation. She, the + strong Englishwoman, so large, so robust, almost masculine in form, + mentally compared herself with the supple Italian with her form so round, + with her gestures so graceful, her hands so delicate, her feet so dainty; + compared herself with the creature of desire, whose every movement implied + a secret wave of passion, and she ceased her cry—“Ah, how could he?”—at + once. She had a clear knowledge of the power of her rival. + </p> + <p> + It is indeed a supreme agony for an honorable woman, who loves, to feel + herself thus degraded by the mere thought of the intoxication her husband + has tasted in arms more beautiful, more caressing, more entwining than + hers. It was, too, a signal for the return of will to the tortured but + proud soul. Disgust possessed her, so violent, so complete, for the + atmosphere of falsehood and of sensuality in which Boleslas had lived two + years, that she drew herself up, becoming again strong and implacable. + Braving the storm, she turned in the direction of her home, with this + resolution as firmly rooted in her mind as if she had deliberated for + months and months. + </p> + <p> + “I will not remain with that man another day. Tomorrow I will leave for + England with my son.” + </p> + <p> + How many, in a similar situation, have uttered such vows, to abjure them + when they find themselves face to face with the man who has betrayed them, + and whom they love. Maud was not of that order. Certainly she loved dearly + the seductive Boleslas, wedded against her parents’ will the perfidious + one for whom she had sacrificed all, living far from her native land and + her family for years, because it pleased him, breathing, living, only for + him and for their boy. But there was within her—as her long, square + chin, her short nose and the strength of her brow revealed—the force + of inflexibility—which is met with in characters of an absolute + uprightness. Love, with her, could be stifled by disgust, or, rather, she + considered it degrading to continue to love one whom she scorned, and, at + that moment, it was supreme scorn which reigned in her heart. She had, in + the highest degree, the great virtue which is found wherever there is + nobility, and of which the English have made the basis of their moral + education—the religion, the fanaticism of loyalty. She had always + grieved on discovering the wavering nature of Boleslas. But if she had + observed in him, with sorrow, any exaggerations of language, any + artificial sentiment, a dangerous suppleness of mind, she had pardoned him + those defects with the magnanimity of love, attributing them to a + defective training. Gorka at a very early age had witnessed a stirring + family drama—his mother and his father lived apart, while neither + the one nor the other had the exclusive guidance of the child. How could + she find indulgence for the shameful hypocrisy of two years’ standing, for + the villainy of that treachery practised at the domestic hearth, for the + continued, voluntary disloyalty of every day, every hour? Though Maud + experienced, in the midst of her despair, the sort of calmness which + proves a firm and just resolution, when she reentered the Palazzetto Doria—what + a drama had been enacted in her heart since her going out!—and it + was in a voice almost as calm as usual that she asked: “Is the Count at + home?” + </p> + <p> + What did she experience when the servant, after answering her in the + affirmative, added: “Madame and Mademoiselle Steno, too, are awaiting + Madame in the salon.” At the thought that the woman who had stolen from + her her husband was there, the betrayed wife felt her blood boil, to use a + common but expressive phrase. It was very natural that Alba’s mother + should call upon her, as was her custom. It was still more natural for her + to come there that day. For very probably a report of the duel the + following day had reached her. Her presence, however, and at that moment, + aroused in Maud a feeling of indignation so impassioned that her first + impulse was to enter, to drive out Boleslas’s mistress as one would drive + out a servant surprised thieving. Suddenly the thought of Alba presented + itself to her mind, of that sweet and pure Alba, of that soul as pure as + her name, of her whose dearest friend she was. Since the dread revelation + she had thought several times of the young girl. But her deep sorrow + having absorbed all the power of her soul, she had not been able to feel + such friendship for the delicate and pretty child. At the thought of + ejecting her rival, as she had the right to do, that sentiment stirred + within her. A strange pity flooded her soul, which caused her to pause in + the centre of the large hall, ornamented with statues and columns, which + she was in the act of crossing. She called the servant just as he was + about to put his hand on the knob of the door. The analogy between her + situation and that of Alba struck her very forcibly. She experienced the + sensation which Alba had so often experienced in connection with Fanny, + sympathy with a sorrow so like her own. She could not give her hand to + Madame Steno after what she had discovered, nor could she speak to her + otherwise than to order her from her house. And to utter before Alba one + single phrase, to make one single gesture which would arouse her + suspicions, would be too implacable, too iniquitous a vengeance! She + turned toward the door which led to her own room, bidding the servant ask + his master to come thither. She had devised a means of satisfying her just + indignation without wounding her dear friend, who was not responsible for + the fact that the two culprits had taken shelter behind her innocence. + </p> + <p> + Having entered the small, pretty boudoir which led into her bedroom, she + seated herself at her desk, on which was a photograph of Madame Steno, in + a group consisting of Boleslas, Alba, and herself. The photograph smiled + with a smile of superb insolence, which suddenly reawakened in the + outraged woman her frenzy of rancor, interrupted or rather suspended for + several moments by pity. She took the frame in her hands, she cast it upon + the ground, trampling the glass beneath her feet, then she began to write, + on the first blank sheet, one of those notes which passion alone dares to + pen, which does not draw back at every word: + </p> + <p> + “I know all. For two years you have been my husband’s mistress. Do not + deny it. I have read the confession written by your own hand. I do not + wish to see nor to speak to you again. Never again set foot in my house. + On account of your daughter I have not driven you out to-day. A second + time I shall not hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + She was just about to sign Maud Gorka, when the sound of the door opening + and shutting caused her to turn. Boleslas was before her. Upon his face + was an ambiguous expression, which exasperated the unhappy wife still + more. Having returned more than an hour before, he had learned that Maud + had accompanied to the Rue Leopardi Madame Maitland, who was ill, and he + awaited her return with impatience, agitated by the thought that Florent’s + sister was no doubt ill owing to the duel of the morrow, and in that case, + Maud, too, would know all. There are conversations and, above all, adieux + which a man who is about to fight a duel always likes to avoid. Although + he forced a smile, he no longer doubted. His wife’s evident agitation + could not be explained by any other cause. Could he divine that she had + learned not only of the duel, but, too, of an intrigue that day ended and + of which she had known nothing for two years? As she was silent, and as + that silence embarrassed him, he tried, in order to keep him in + countenance, to take her hand and kiss it, as was his custom. She repelled + him with a look which he had never seen upon her face and said to him, + handing him the sheet of paper lying before her: + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to read this note before I send it to Madame Steno, who is in + the salon with her daughter?” + </p> + <p> + Boleslas took the letter. He read the terrible lines, and he became livid. + His agitation was so great that he returned the paper to his wife without + replying, without attempting to prevent, as was his duty, the insult + offered to his former mistress, whom he still loved to the point of + risking his life for her. That man, so brave and so yielding at once, was + overwhelmed by one of those surprises which put to flight all the powers + of the mind, and he watched Maud slip the note into an envelope, write the + address and ring. He heard her say to the servant: + </p> + <p> + “You will take this note to Countess Steno and you will excuse me to the + ladies.... I feel too indisposed to receive any one. If they insist, you + will reply that I have forbidden you to admit any one. You understand—any + one.” + </p> + <p> + The man took the note. He left the room and he had no doubt fulfilled his + errand while the husband and wife stood there, face to face, neither of + them breaking the formidable silence. They felt that the hour was a solemn + one. + </p> + <p> + Never, since the day on which Cardinal Manning had united their destinies + in the chapel of Ardrahan Castle, had they been engaged in a crisis so + tragical. Such moments lay bare the very depths of the character. + Courageous and noble, Maud did not think of weighing her words. She did + not try to feed her jealousy, nor to accentuate the cruelty of the cause + of the insult which she had the right to launch at the man toward whom + that very morning she had been so confiding, so tender. The baseness and + the cruelty were to remain forever unknown to the woman who no longer + hesitated as to the bold resolution she had made. No. That which she + expected of the man whom she had loved so dearly, of whom she had + entertained so exalted an opinion, whom she had just seen fall so low, was + a cry of truth, an avowal in which she would find the throb of a last + remnant of honor. If he were silent it was not because he was preparing a + denial. The tenor of Maud’s letter left no doubt as to the nature of the + proofs she had in her hand, which she had there no doubt. How? He did not + ask himself that question, governed as he was by a phenomenon in which was + revealed to the full the singular complexity of his nature. The Slav’s + especial characteristic is a prodigious, instantaneous nervousness. It + seems that those beings with the uncertain hearts have a faculty of + amplifying in themselves, to the point of absorbing the heart altogether, + states of partial, passing, and yet sincere emotion. The intensity of + their momentary excitement thus makes of them sincere comedians, who speak + to you as if they felt certain sentiments of an exclusive order, to feel + contradictory ones the day after, with the same ardor, with the same + untruthfulness, unjustly say the victims of those natures, so much the + more deceitful as they are more vibrating. + </p> + <p> + He suffered, indeed, on discovering that Maud had been initiated into his + criminal intrigue, but he suffered more for her than for himself. It was + sufficient for that suffering to occupy a few moments, a few hours. It + reinvested the personality of the impassioned and weak husband who loved + his wife while betraying her. There was, indeed, a shade of it in his + adventure, but a very slight shade. And yet, he did not think he was + telling an untruth, when he finally broke the silence to say to her whom + he had so long deceived: + </p> + <p> + “You have avenged yourself with much severity, Maud, but you had the + right.... I do not know who has informed you of an error which was very + culpable, very wrong, very unfortunate, too.... I know that I have in Rome + enemies bent upon my ruin, and I am sure they have left me no means of + defending myself. I have deceived you, and I have suffered.” + </p> + <p> + He paused after those words, uttered with a tremor of conviction which was + not assumed. He had forgotten that ten minutes before he had entered the + room with the firm determination to hide his duel and its cause from the + woman for whose pardon he would at that moment have sacrificed his life + without hesitation. He continued, in a voice softened by affection: + “Whatever they have told you, whatever you have read, I swear to you, you + do not know all.” + </p> + <p> + “I know enough,” interrupted Maud, “since I know that you have been the + lover of that woman, of the mother of my intimate friend, at my side, + under my very eyes.... If you had suffered by that deception, as you say, + you would not have waited to avow all to me until I held in my hands the + undeniable proof of your infamy.... You have cast aside the mask, or, + rather, I have wrested it from you.... I desire no more.... As for the + details of the shameful story, spare me them. It was not to hear them that + I reentered a house every corner of which reminds me that I believed in + you implicitly, and that you have betrayed me, not one day, but every day; + that you betrayed me the day before yesterday, yesterday, this morning, an + hour ago.... I repeat, that is sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is not sufficient for me!” exclaimed Boleslas. “Yes, all you have + just said is true, and I deserve to have you tell it to me. But that which + you could not read in those letters shown to you, that which I have kept + for two years in the depths of my heart, and which must now be told—is + that, through all these fatal impulses, I have never ceased to love + you.... Ah, do not recoil from me, do not look at me thus.... I feel it + once more in the agony I have suffered since you are speaking to me; there + is something within me that has never ceased being yours. That woman has + been my aberration. She has had my madness, my senses, my passion, all the + evil instincts of my being.... You have remained my idol, my affection, my + religion.... If I lied to you it was because I knew that the day on which + you would find out my fault I should see you before me, despairing and + implacable as you now are, as I can not bear to have you be. Ah, judge me, + condemn me, curse me; but know, but feel, that in spite of all I have + loved you, I still love you.” + </p> + <p> + Again he spoke with an enthusiasm which was not feigned. Though he had + deceived her, he recognized only too well the value of the loyal creature + before him, whom he feared he should lose. If he could not move her at the + moment when he was about to fight a duel, when could he move her? So he + approached her with the same gesture of suppliant and impassioned + adoration which he employed in the early days of their marriage, and + before his treason, when he had told her of his love. No doubt that + remembrance thrust itself upon Maud and disgusted her, for it was with + veritable horror that she again recoiled, replying: + </p> + <p> + “Be silent! That lie is the worst of all. It pains me. I blush for you, in + seeing that you have not even the courage to acknowledge your fault. God + is my witness, I should have respected you more, had you said: ‘I have + ceased loving you. I have taken a mistress. It was convenient for me to + lie to you. I have lied. I have sacrificed all to my passion, my honor, my + duties, my vows and you.’.... Ah, speak to me like that, that I may have + with you the sentiment of truth.... But that you dare to repeat to me + words of tenderness after what you have done to me, inspires me with + repulsion. It is too bitter.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Boleslas, “you think thus. True and simple as you are, how + could you have learned to understand what a weak will is—a will + which wishes and which does not, which rises and which falls?... And yet, + if I had not loved you, what interest would I have in lying to you? Have I + anything to conceal now? Ah, if you knew in what a position I am, on the + eve of what day, I beseech you to believe that at least the best part of + my being has never ceased to be yours!” + </p> + <p> + It was the strongest effort he could make to bring back the heart of his + wife so deeply wounded—the allusion to his duel. For since she had + not mentioned it to him, it was no doubt because she was still ignorant of + it. He was once more startled by the reply she made, and which proved to + him to what a degree indignation had paralyzed even her love. He resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that you fight a duel to-morrow,” said she, “and for your + mistress, I know, too.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not true,” he exclaimed; “it is not for her.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Maud, energetically. “Was it not on her account that you + went to the Rue Leopardi to provoke your rival? For she is not even true + to you, and it is justice. Was it not on her account that you wished to + enter the house, in spite of that rival’s brother-in-law, and that a + dispute arose between you, followed by this challenge? Was it not on her + account, and to revenge yourself, that you returned from Poland, because + you had received anonymous letters which told you all? And to know all has + not disgusted you forever with that creature?... But if she had deigned to + lie to you, she would have you still at her feet, and you dare to tell me + that you love me when you have not even cared to spare me the affront of + learning all that villainy—all that baseness, all that disgrace—through + some one else?” + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” he asked. “Name that Judas to me, at least?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak thus,” interrupted Maud, bitterly; “you have lost the + right.... And then do not seek too far.... I have seen Madame Maitland + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Maitland?” repeated Boleslas. “Did Madame Maitland denounce me to + you? Did Madame Maitland write those anonymous letters?” + </p> + <p> + “She desired to be avenged,” replied Maud, adding: “She has the right, + since your mistress robbed her of her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I, too, will be avenged!” exclaimed the young man. “I will kill + that husband for her, after I have killed her brother. I will kill them + both, one after the other.”.... His mobile countenance, which had just + expressed the most impassioned of supplications, now expressed only hatred + and rage, and the same change took place in his immoderate sensibility. + “Of what use is it to try to settle matters?” he continued. “I see only + too well all is ended between us. Your pride and your rancor are stronger + than your love. If it had been otherwise, you would have begged me not to + fight, and you would only have reproached me, as you have the right to do, + I do not deny.... But from the moment that you no longer love me, woe to + him whom I find in my path! Woe to Madame Maitland and to those she + loves!” + </p> + <p> + “This time at least you are sincere,” replied Maud, with renewed + bitterness. “Do you think I have not suffered sufficient humiliation? + Would you like me to supplicate you not to fight for that creature? And do + you not feel the supreme outrage which that encounter is to me? Moreover,” + she continued with tragical solemnity, “I did not summon you to have with + you a conversation as sad as it is useless, but to tell you my + resolution.... I hope that you will not oblige me to resort for its + execution to the means which the law puts in my power?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t deserve to be spoken to thus,” said Boleslas, haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “I will remain here to-night,” resumed Maud, without heeding that reply, + “for the last time. To-morrow evening I shall leave for England.” + </p> + <p> + “You are free,” said he, with a bow. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall take my son with me,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Our son!” he replied, with the composure of a man overcome by an access + of tenderness and who controls himself. “That? No. I forbid it.” + </p> + <p> + “You forbid it?” said she. “Very well, we will appeal it. I knew that you + would force me,” she continued, haughtily, in her turn, “to have recourse + to the law.... But I shall not recoil before anything. In betraying me as + you have done, you have also betrayed our child. I will not leave him to + you. You are not worthy of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Maud,” said Boleslas, sadly, after a pause, “remember that it is + perhaps the last time we shall meet.... To-morrow, if I am killed, you + shall do as you like.... If I live, I promise to consent to any + arrangement that will be just.... What I ask of you is—and I have + the right, notwithstanding my faults—in the name of our early years + of wedded life, in the name of that son himself, to leave me in a + different way, to have a feeling, I don’t say of pardon, but of pity.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you have it for me,” she replied, “when you were following your + passion by way of my heart? No!”.... And she walked before him in order to + reach the door, fixing upon him eyes so haughty that he involuntarily + lowered his. “You have no longer a wife and I have no longer a husband.... + I am no Madame Maitland; I do not avenge myself by means of anonymous + letters nor by denunciation.... But to pardon you?... Never, do you hear, + never!” + </p> + <p> + With those words she left the room, with those words into which she put + all the indomitable energy of her character.... Boleslas did not essay to + detain her. When, an hour after that horrible conversation, his valet came + to inform him that dinner was served, the wretched man was still in the + same place, his elbow on the mantelpiece and his forehead in his hand. He + knew Maud too well to hope that she would change her determination, and + there was in him, in spite of his faults, his folly and his complications, + too much of the real gentleman to employ means of violence and to detain + her forcibly, when he had erred so gravely. So she went thus. If, just + before, he had exaggerated the expression of his feelings in saying, in + thinking rather, that he had never ceased loving her, it was true that + amid all his errors he had maintained for her an affection composed + particularly of gratitude, remorse, esteem and, it must be said, of + selfishness. + </p> + <p> + He loved for the devotion of which he was absolutely sure, and then, like + many husbands who deceive an irreproachable wife, he was proud of her, + while unfaithful to her. She seemed to him at once the dignity and the + charity of his life. She had remained in his eyes the one to whom he could + always return, the assured friend of moments of trial, the haven after the + tempest, the moral peace when he was weary of the troubles of passion. + What life would he lead when she was gone? For she would go! Her + resolution was irrevocable. All dropped from his side at once. The + mistress, to whom he had sacrificed the noblest and most loving heart, he + had lost under circumstances as abject as their two years of passion had + been dishonorable. His wife was about to leave him, and would he succeed + in keeping his son? He had returned to be avenged, and he had not even + succeeded in meeting his rival. That being so impressionable had + experienced, in the face of so many repeated blows, a disappointment so + absolute that he gladly looked forward to the prospect of exposing himself + to death on the following day, while at the same time a bitter flood of + rancor possessed him at the thought of all the persons concerned in his + adventure. He would have liked to crush Madame Steno and Maitland, Lydia + and Florent—Dorsenne, too—for having given him the false word + of honor, which had strengthened still more his thirst for vengeance by + calming it for a few hours. + </p> + <p> + His confusion of thoughts was only greater when he was seated alone with + his son at dinner. That morning he had seen before him his wife’s smiling + face. The absence of her whom at that moment he valued above all else was + so sad to him that he ventured one last attempt, and after the meal he + sent little Luc to see if his mother would receive him. The child returned + with a reply in the negative. “Mamma is resting.... She does not wish to + be disturbed.” So the matter was irremissible. She would not see her + husband until the morrow—if he lived. For vainly did Boleslas + convince himself that afternoon that he had lost none of his skill in + practising before his admiring seconds; a duel is always a lottery. He + might be killed, and if the possibility of an eternal separation had not + moved the injured woman, what prayer would move her? He saw her in his + thoughts—her who at that moment, with blinds drawn, all lights + subdued, endured in the semi-darkness that suffering which curses but does + not pardon. Ah, but that sight was painful to him! And, in order that she + might at least know how he felt, he took their son in his arms, and, + pressing him to his breast, said: “If you see your mother before I do, you + will tell her that we spent a very lonesome evening without her, will you + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what ails you?” exclaimed the child. “You have wet my cheeks with + tears—you are sweeping!” + </p> + <p> + “You will tell her that, too, promise me,” replied the father, “so that + she will take good care of herself, seeing how we love her.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the little boy, “she was not ill when we walked together after + breakfast. She was so gay.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, too, it will be nothing serious,” replied Gorka. He was obliged + to dismiss his son and to go out. He felt so horribly sad that he was + physically afraid to remain alone in the house. But whither should he go? + Mechanically he repaired to the club, although it was too early to meet + many of the members there. He came upon Pietrapertosa and Cibo, who had + dined there, and who, seated on one of the divans, were conferring in + whispers with the gravity of two ambassadors discussing the Bulgarian or + Egyptian question. + </p> + <p> + “You have a very nervous air,” they said to Boleslas, “you who were in + such good form this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Cibo, “you should have dined with us as we asked you to.” + </p> + <p> + “When one is to fight a duel,” continued Pietrapertosa, sententiously, + “one should see neither one’s wife nor one’s mistress. Madame Gorka + suspects nothing, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely nothing,” replied Boleslas; “you are right. I should have done + better not to have left you. But, here I am. We will exorcise dismal + thoughts by playing cards and supping!” + </p> + <p> + “By playing cards and supping!” exclaimed Pietrapertosa. “And your hand? + Think of your hand.... You will tremble, and you will miss your man.” + </p> + <p> + “Alright dinner,” said Cibo, “to bed at ten o’clock, up at six-thirty, and + two eggs with a glass of old port is the recipe Machault gives.” + </p> + <p> + “And which I shall not follow,” said Boleslas, adding: “I give you my word + that if I had no other cause for care than this duel, you would not see me + in this condition.” He uttered that phrase in a tragical voice, the + sincerity of which the two Italians felt. They looked at each other + without speaking. They were too shrewd and too well aware of the simplest + scandals of Rome not to have divined the veritable cause of the encounter + between Florent and Boleslas. On the other hand, they knew the latter too + well not to mistrust somewhat his attitudes. However, there was such + simple emotion in his accent that they spontaneously pitied him, and, + without another word, they no longer opposed the caprices of their strange + client, whom they did not leave until two o’clock in the morning—and + fortune favored them. For they found themselves at the end of a game, + recklessly played, each the richer by two or three hundred louis apiece. + That meant a few days more in Paris on the next visit. They, too, truly + regretted their friend’s luck, saying, on separating: + </p> + <p> + “I very much fear for him,” said Cibo. “Such luck at gaming, the night + before a duel—bad sign, very bad sign.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the more so that some one was there,” replied Pietrapertosa, + making with his fingers the sign which conjures the jettutura. For nothing + in the world would he have named the personages against whose evil eye he + provided in that manner. But Cibo understood him, and, drawing from his + trousers pocket his watch, which he fastened a l’anglaise by a safety + chain to his belt, he pointed out among the charms a golden horn: + </p> + <p> + “I have not let it go this evening,” said he. “The worst is, that Gorka + will not sleep, and then, his hand!” + </p> + <p> + Only the first of those two prognostics was to be verified. Returning home + at that late hour, Boleslas did not even retire. He employed the remainder + of the night in writing a long letter to his wife, one to his son, to be + given to him on his eighteenth birthday, all in case of an accident. Then + he examined his papers and he came upon the package of letters he had + received from Madame Steno. Merely to reread a few of them, and to glance + at the portraits of that faithless mistress again, heightened his anger to + such a degree that he enclosed the whole in a large envelope, which he + addressed to Lincoln Maitland. He had no sooner sealed it than he shrugged + his shoulders, saying: “Of what use?” He raised the piece of material + which stopped up the chimney, and, placing the envelope on the fire-dogs, + he set it on fire. He shook with the tongs the remains of that which had + been the most ardent, the most complete passion of his life, and he + relighted the flames under the pieces of paper still intact. The + unreasonable employment of a night which might be his last had scarcely + paled his face. But his friends, who knew him well, started on seeing him + with that impassively sinister countenance when he alighted from his + phaeton, at about eight o’clock, at the inn selected for the meeting. He + had ordered the carriage the day before to allay his wife’s suspicions by + the pretense of taking one of his usual morning drives. In his mental + confusion he had forgotten to give a counter order, and that accident + caused him to escape the two policemen charged by the questorship to watch + the Palazzetto Doria, on Lydia Maitland’s denunciation. The hired + victoria, which those agents took, soon lost track of the swift English + horses, driven as a man of his character and of his mental condition could + drive. + </p> + <p> + The precaution of Chapron’s sister was, therefore, baffled in that + direction, and she succeeded no better with regard to her brother, who, to + avoid all explanation with Lincoln, had gone, under the pretext of a visit + to the country, to dine and sleep at the hotel. It was there that + Montfanon and Dorsenne met him to conduct him to the rendezvous in the + classical landau. Hardly had they reached the eminence of the circus of + Maxence, on the Appian Way, when they were passed by Boleslas’s phaeton. + </p> + <p> + “You can rest very easy,” said Montfanon to Florent. “How can one aim + correctly when one tires one’s arm in that way?” + </p> + <p> + That had been the only allusion to the duel made between the three men + during the journey, which had taken about an hour. Florent talked as he + usually did, asking all sorts of questions which attested his care for + minute information—the most of which might be utilized by his + brother-in-law-and the Marquis had replied by evoking, with his habitual + erudition, several of the souvenirs which peopled that vast country, + strewn with tombs, aqueducts, ruined villas, with the line of the Monts + Albains enclosing them beyond. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne was silent. It was the first affair at which he had assisted, and + his nervous anxiety was extreme. + </p> + <p> + Tragical presentiments oppressed him, and at the same time he apprehended + momentarily that, Montfanon’s religious scruples reawakening, he would not + only have to seek another second, but would have to defer a solution so + near. However, the struggle which was taking place in the heart of the + “old leaguer” between the gentleman and the Christian, was displayed + during the drive only by an almost imperceptible gesture. As the carriage + passed the entrance to the catacomb of St. Calixtus, the former soldier of + the Pope turned away his head. Then he resumed the conversation with + redoubled energy, to pause in his turn, however, when the landau took, a + little beyond the Tomb of Caecilia, a transverse road in the direction of + the Ardeatine Way. It was there that ‘l’Osteria del tempo perso’ was + built, upon the ground belonging to Cibo, on which the duel was to take + place. + </p> + <p> + Before l’Osteria, whose signboard was surmounted by the arms of Pope + Innocent VIII, three carriages were already waiting—Gorka’s phaeton, + a landau which had brought Cibo, Pietrapertosa and the doctor, and a + simple botte, in which a porter had come. That unusual number of vehicles + seemed likely to attract the attention of riflemen out for a stroll, but + Cibo answered for the discretion of the innkeeper, who indeed cherished + for his master the devotion of vassal to lord, still common in Italy. The + three newcomers had no need to make the slightest explanation. Hardly had + they alighted from the carriage, when the maid conducted them through the + hall, where at that moment two huntsmen were breakfasting, their guns + between their knees, and who, like true Romans, scarcely deigned to glance + at the strangers, who passed from the common hall into a small court, from + that court, through a shed, into a large field enclosed by boards, with + here and there a few pine-trees. + </p> + <p> + That rather odd duelling-ground had formerly served Cibo as a paddock. He + had essayed to increase his slender income by buying at a bargain some + jaded horses, which he intended fattening by means of rest and good + fodder, and then selling to cabmen, averaging a small profit. The + speculation having miscarried, the place was neglected and unused, save + under circumstances similar to those of this particular morning. + </p> + <p> + “We have arrived last,” said Montfanon, looking at his watch; “we are, + however, five minutes ahead of time. Remember,” he added in a low voice, + turning to Florent, “to keep the body well in the background,” these words + being followed by other directions. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” replied Florent, who looked at the Marquis and Dorsenne with a + glance which he ordinarily had only for Lincoln, “and you know that, + whatever may come, I thank you for all from the depths of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + The young man put so much grace in that adieu, his courage was so simple, + his sacrifice for his brother-in-law so magnanimous and natural—in + fact, for two days both seconds had so fully appreciated the charm of that + disposition, absolutely free from thoughts of self—that they pressed + his hand with the emotion of true friends. They were themselves, moreover, + interested, and at once began the series of preparations without which the + role of assistant would be physically insupportable to persons endowed + with a little sensibility. In experienced hands like those of Montfanon, + Cibo and Pietrapertosa, such preliminaries are speedily arranged. The code + is as exact as the step of a ballet. Twenty minutes after the entrance of + the last arrivals, the two adversaries were face to face. The signal was + given. The two shots were fired simultaneously, and Florent sank upon the + grass which covered the enclosure. He had a bullet in his thigh. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne has often related since, as a singular trait of literary mania, + that at the moment the wounded man fell he, himself, notwithstanding the + anxiety which possessed him, had watched Montfanon, to study him. He adds + that never had he seen a face express such sorrowful piety as that of the + man who, scorning all human respect, made the sign of the cross. It was + the devotee of the catacombs, who had left the altar of the martyrs to + accomplish a work of charity, then carried away by anger so far as to + place himself under the necessity of participating in a duel, who was, no + doubt, asking pardon of God. What remorse was stirring within the heart of + the fervent, almost mystical Christian, so strangely mixed up in an + adventure of that kind? He had at least this comfort, that after the first + examination, and when they had borne Florent into a room prepared hastily + by the care of Cibo, the doctor declared himself satisfied. The ball could + even be removed at once, and as neither the bone nor the muscles had been + injured it was a matter of a few weeks at the most. + </p> + <p> + “All that now remains for us,” concluded Cibo, who had brought back the + news, “is to draw up our official report.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant, and as the witnesses were preparing to reenter the house + for the last formality, an incident occurred, very unexpected, which was + to transform the encounter, up to that time so simple, into one of those + memorable duels which are talked over at clubs and in armories. If + Pietrapertosa and Cibo had ceased since morning to believe in the + jettatura of the “some one” whom neither had named, it must be + acknowledged that they were very unjust, for the good fortune of having + gained something wherewith to swell their Parisian purses was surely + naught by the side of this—to have to discuss with the Cavals, the + Machaults and other professionals the case, almost unprecedented, in which + they were participants. + </p> + <p> + Boleslas Gorka, who, when once his adversary had fallen, paced to and fro + without seeming to care as to the gravity of the wound, suddenly + approached the group formed by the four men, and in a tone of voice which + did not predict the terrible aggression in which he was about to indulge, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “One moment, gentlemen. I desire to say a few words in your presence to + Monsieur Dorsenne.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at your service, Gorka,” replied Julien, who did not suspect the + hostile intention of his old friend. He did not divine the form which that + hostility was about to take, but he had always upon his mind his word of + honor falsely given, and he was prepared to answer for it. + </p> + <p> + “It will not take much time, sir,” continued Boleslas, still with the same + insolently formal politeness, “you know we have an account to settle.... + But as I have some cause not to believe in the validity of your honor, I + should like to remove all cause of evasion.” And before any one could + interfere in the unheard-of proceedings he had raised his glove and struck + Dorsenne in the face. As Gorka spoke, the writer turned pale. He had not + the time to reply to the audacious insult offered him by a similar one, + for the three witnesses of the scene cast themselves between him and his + aggressor. He, however, pushed them aside with a resolute air. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, sirs,” said he, “that by preventing me from inflicting on + Monsieur Gorka the punishment he deserves, you force me to obtain another + reparation. And I demand it immediately.... I will not leave this place,” + he continued, “without having obtained it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I, without having given it to you,” replied Boleslas. “It is all I + ask.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Dorsenne,” cried Montfanon, who had been the first to seize the + raised arm of the writer, “you shall not fight thus. First, you have no + right. It requires at least twenty-four hours between the provocation and + the encounter.... And you, sirs, must not agree to serve as seconds for + Monsieur Gorka, after he has failed in a manner so grave in all the rules + of the ground.... If you lend yourselves to it, it is barbarous, it is + madness, whatsoever you like. It is no longer a duel.” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat, Montfanon,” replied Dorsenne, “that I will not leave here and + that I will not allow Monsieur Gorka to leave until I have obtained the + reparation to which I feel I have the right.” + </p> + <p> + “And I repeat that I am at Monsieur Dorsenne’s service,” replied Boleslas. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sirs,” said Montfanon. “There only remains for us to leave you + to arrange it one with the other as you wish, and for us to withdraw.... + Is not that your opinion?” he continued, addressing Cibo and + Pietrapertosa, who did not reply immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” finally said one; “the case is difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “There are, however, precedents,” insinuated the other. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Cibo, “if it were only the two successive duels of Henry de + Pene.” + </p> + <p> + “Which furnish authority,” concluded Pietrapertosa. + </p> + <p> + “Authority has nothing to do with it,” again exclaimed Montfanon. “I know, + for my part, that I am not here to assist at a butchery, and that I will + not assist at it.... I am going, sirs, and I expect you will do the same, + for I do not suppose you would select coachmen to play the part of + seconds.... Adieu, Dorsenne.... You do not doubt my friendship for you.... + I think I am giving you a veritable proof of it by not permitting you to + fight under such conditions.” + </p> + <p> + When the old nobleman reentered the inn, he waited ten minutes, persuaded + that his departure would determine that of Cibo and of Pietrapertosa, and + that the new affair, following so strangely upon the other, would be + deferred until the next day. He had not told an untruth. It was his strong + friendship for Julien which had made him apprehend a duel organized in + that way, under the influence of a righteous indignation. Gorka’s + unjustifiable violence would certainly not permit a second encounter to be + avoided. But as the insult had been outrageous, it was the more essential + that the conditions should be fixed calmly and after grave consideration. + To divert his impatience, Montfanon bade the innkeeper point out to him + whither they had carried Florent, and he ascended to the tiny room, where + the doctor was dressing the wounded man’s leg. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the latter, with a smile, “I shall have to limp a little + for a month.... And Dorsenne?” + </p> + <p> + “He is all right, I hope,” replied Montfanon, adding, with ill-humor: + “Dorsenne is a fool; that is what Dorsenne is. And Gorka is a wild beast; + that is what Gorka is.” And he related the episode which had just taken + place to the two men, who were so surprised that the doctor, bandage in + hand, paused in his work. “And they wish to fight there at once, like + redskins. Why not scalp one another?... And that Cibo and that + Pietrapertosa would have consented to the duel if I had not opposed it! + Fortunately they lack two seconds, and it is not easy to find in this + district two men who can sign an official report, for it is the mode + nowadays to have those paltry scraps of paper. One of my friends and + myself had two such witnesses at twenty francs apiece. But that was in + Paris in ‘sixty-two.” And he entered upon the recital of the old-time + duel, to calm his anxiety, which burst forth again in these words: “It + seems they do not decide to separate so quickly. It is not, however, + possible that they will fight.... Can we see them from here?” He + approached the window, which indeed looked upon the enclosure. The sight + which met his eyes caused the excellent man to stammer.... “The miserable + men!... It is monstrous.... They are mad.... They have found seconds.... + Whom have they taken?... Those two huntsmen!... Ali, my God! My God!”.... + He could say no more. The doctor had hastened to the window to see what + was passing, regardless of the fact that Florent dragged himself thither + as well. Did they remain there a few seconds, fifteen minutes or longer? + They could never tell, so greatly were they terrified. + </p> + <p> + As Montfanon had anticipated, the conditions of the duel were terrible. + For Pietrapertosa, who seemed to direct the combat, after having measured + a space sufficiently long, of about fifty feet, was in the act of tracing + in the centre two lines scarcely ten or twelve metres apart. + </p> + <p> + “They have chosen the duel a ‘marche interrompue’,” groaned the veteran + duellist, whose knowledge of the ground did not deceive him. Dorsenne and + Gorka, once placed, face to face, commenced indeed to advance, now + raising, now lowering their weapons with the terrible slowness of two + adversaries resolved not to miss their mark. + </p> + <p> + A shot was fired. It was by Boleslas. Dorsenne was unharmed. Several steps + had still to be taken in order to reach the limit. He took them, and he + paused to aim at his opponent with so evident an intention of killing him + that they could distinctly hear Cibo cry: + </p> + <p> + “Fire! For God’s sake, fire!” + </p> + <p> + Julien pressed the trigger, as if in obedience to that order, incorrect, + but too natural to be even noticed. The weapon was discharged, and the + three spectators at the window of the bedroom uttered three simultaneous + exclamations on seeing Gorka’s arm fall and his hand drop the pistol. + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” cried the doctor, “but a broken arm.” + </p> + <p> + “The good Lord has been better to us than we deserve,” said the Marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Now, at least, the madman will be quieted.... Brave Dorsenne!” cried + Florent, who thought of his brother-in-law and who added gayly, leaning on + Montfanon and the doctor in order to reach the couch: “Finish quickly, + doctor, they will need you below immediately.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK 4. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. LUCID ALBA + </h2> + <p> + The doctor had diagnosed the case correctly. Dorsenne’s ball had struck + Gorka below the wrist. Two centimetres more to the right or to the left, + and undoubtedly Boleslas would have been killed. He escaped with a + fracture of the forearm, which would confine him for a few days to his + room, and which would force him to submit for several weeks to the + annoyance of a sling. When he was taken home and his personal physician, + hastily summoned, made him a bandage and prescribed for the first few days + bed and rest, he experienced a new access of rage, which exceeded the + paroxysms of the day before and of that morning. All parts of his soul, + the noblest as well as the meanest, bled at once and caused him to suffer + with another agony than that occasioned by his wounded arm. Was he + satisfied in the desire, almost morbid, to figure in the eyes of those who + knew him as an extraordinary personage? He had hastened from Poland + through Europe as an avenger of his betrayed love, and he had begun by + missing his rival. Instead of provoking him immediately in the salon of + Villa Steno, he had waited, and another had had time to substitute himself + for the one he had wished to chastise. The other, whose death would at + least have given a tragical issue to the adventure, Boleslas had scarcely + touched. He had hoped in striking Dorsenne to execute at least one traitor + whom he considered as having trifled with the most sacred of confidences. + He had simply succeeded in giving that false friend occasion to humiliate + him bitterly, leaving out of the question that he had rendered it + impossible to fight again for many days. None of the persons who had + wronged him would be punished for some time, neither his coarse and + cowardly rival, nor his perfidious mistress, nor monstrous Lydia Maitland, + whose infamy he had just discovered. They were all happy and triumphant, + on that lovely, radiant May day, while he tossed on a bed of pain, and it + was proven too clearly to him that very afternoon by his two seconds, the + only visitors whom he had not denied admission, and who came to see him + about five o’clock. They came from the races of Tor di Quinto, which had + taken place that day. + </p> + <p> + “All is well,” began Cibo, “I will guarantee that no one has talked.... I + have told you before, I am sure of my innkeeper, and we have paid the + witnesses and the coachman.” + </p> + <p> + “Were Madame Steno and her daughter at the races?” interrupted Boleslas. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the Roman, whom the abruptness of the question surprised + too much for him to evade it with his habitual diplomacy. + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” asked the wounded man. + </p> + <p> + “Alone, that time,” replied Cibo, with an eagerness in which Boleslas + distinguished an intention to deceive him. + </p> + <p> + “And Madame Maitland?” + </p> + <p> + “She was there, too, with her husband,” said Pietrapertosa, heedless of + Cibo’s warning glances, “and all Rome besides,” adding: “Do you know the + engagement of Ardea and little Hafner is public? They were all three + there, the betrothed and the father, and so happy! I vow, it was fine. + Cardinal Guerillot baptized pretty Fanny.” + </p> + <p> + “And Dorsenne?” again questioned the invalid. + </p> + <p> + “He was there,” said Cibo. “You will be vexed when I tell you of the reply + he dared to make us. We asked him how he had managed—nervous as he + is—to aim at you as he aimed, without trembling. For he did not + tremble. And guess what he replied? That he thought of a recipe of + Stendhal’s—to recite from memory four Latin verses, before firing. + ‘And might one know what you chose?’ I asked of him. Thereupon he + repeated: ‘Tityre, tu patulae recubens!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a case which recalls the word of Casal,” interrupted Pietrapertosa, + “when that snob of a Figon recommended to us at the club his varnish + manufactured from a recipe of a valet of the Prince of Wales. If the young + man is not settled by us, I shall be sorry for him.” + </p> + <p> + Although the two ‘confreres’ had repeated that mediocre pleasantry a + hundred times, they laughed at the top of their sonorous voices and + succeeded in entirely unnerving the injured man. He gave as a pretext his + need of rest to dismiss the fine fellows, of whose sympathy he was + assured, whom he had just found loyal and devoted, but who caused him pain + in conjuring up, in answer to his question, the images of all his enemies. + When one is suffering from a certain sort of pain, remarks like those + naively exchanged between the two Roman imitators of Casal are intolerable + to the hearer. One desires to be alone to feed upon, at least in peace, + the bitter food, the exasperating and inefficacious rancor against people + and against fate, with which Gorka at that moment felt his heart to be so + full. The presence of his former mistress at the races, and on that + afternoon, wounded him more cruelly than the rest. He did not doubt that + she knew through Maitland, himself, certainly informed by Chapron, of the + two duels and of his injury. It was on her account that he had fought, and + that very day she appeared in public, smiling, coquetting, as if two years + of passion had not united their lives, as if he were to her merely a + social acquaintance, a guest at her dinners and her soirees. He knew her + habits so well, and how eagerly, when she loved, she drank in the presence + of him she loved. No doubt she had an appointment on the race-course with + Maitland, as she had formerly had with him, and the painter had gone + thither when he should have cared for his courageous, his noble + brother-in-law, whom he had allowed to fight for him! What a worthy lover + the selfish and brutal American was of that vile creature! The image of + the happy couple tortured Boleslas with the bitterest jealousy + intermingled with disgust, and, by contrast, he thought of his own wife, + the proud and tender Maud whom he had lost. + </p> + <p> + He pictured to himself other illnesses when he had seen that beautiful + nurse by his bedside. He saw again the true glance with which that wife, + so shamefully betrayed, looked at him, the movements of her loyal hands, + which yielded to no one the care of waiting upon him. To-day she had + allowed him to go to a duel without seeing him. He had returned. She had + not even inquired as to his wound. The doctor had dressed it without her + presence, and all that he knew of her was what he learned from their + child. For he sent for Luc. He explained to him his broken arm, as had + been agreed upon with his friends, by a fall on the staircase, and little + Luc replied: + </p> + <p> + “When will you join us, then? Mamma says we leave for England this evening + or in the morning. All the trunks are almost ready.” + </p> + <p> + That evening or to-morrow? So Maud was going to execute her threat. She + was going away forever, and without an explanation. He could not even + plead his cause once more to the woman who certainly would not respond to + another appeal, since she had found, in her outraged pride, the strength + to be severe, when he was in danger of death. In the face of that evidence + of the desertion of all connected with him, Boleslas suffered one of those + accesses of discouragement, deep, absolute, irremediable, in which one + longs to sleep forever. He asked himself: “Were I to try one more step?” + and he replied: “She will not!” when his valet entered with word that the + Countess desired to speak with him. His agitation was so extreme that, for + a second, he fancied it was with regard to Madame Steno, and he was almost + afraid to see his wife enter. + </p> + <p> + Without any doubt, the emotions undergone during the past few days had + been very great. He had, however, experienced none more violent, even + beneath the pistol raised by Dorsenne, than that of seeing advance to his + bed the embodiment of his remorse. Maud’s face, in which ordinarily glowed + the beauty of a blood quickened by the English habits of fresh air and + daily exercise, showed undeniable traces of tears, of sadness, and of + insomnia. The pallor of the cheeks, the dark circles beneath the eyes, the + dryness of the lips and their bitter expression, the feverish glitter, + above all, in the eyes, related more eloquently than words the terrible + agony of which she was the victim. The past twenty-four hours had acted + upon her like certain long illnesses, in which it seems that the very + essence of the organism is altered. She was another person. The rapid + metamorphosis, so tragical and so striking, caused Boleslas to forget his + own anguish. He experienced nothing but one great regret when the woman, + so visibly bowed down by grief, was seated, and when he saw in her eyes + the look of implacable coldness, even through the fever, before which he + had recoiled the day before. But she was there, and her unhoped-for + presence was to the young man, even under the circumstances, an infinite + consolation. He, therefore, said, with an almost childish grace, which he + could assume when he desired to please: + </p> + <p> + “You recognized the fact that it would be too cruel of you to go away + without seeing me again. I should not have dared to ask it of you, and yet + it was the only pleasure I could have.... I thank you for having given it + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not thank me,” replied Maud, shaking her head, “it is not on your + account that I am here. It is from duty.... Let me speak,” she continued, + stopping by a gesture her husband’s reply, “you can answer me + afterward.... Had it only been a question of you and of me, I repeat, I + should not have seen you again.... But, as I told you yesterday, we have a + son.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Boleslas, sadly. “It is to make me still more wretched + that you have come.... You should remember, however, that I am in no + condition to discuss with you so cruel a question.... I thought I had + already said that I would not disregard your rights on condition that you + did not disregard mine.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not of my rights that I wish to speak, nor of yours,” interrupted + Maud, “but of his, the only ones of importance. When I left you yesterday, + I was suffering too severely to feel anything but my pain. It was then + that, in my mental agony, I recalled words repeated to me by my father: + ‘When one suffers, he should look his grief in the face, and it will + always teach him something.’ I was ashamed of my weakness, and I looked my + grief in the face. It taught me, first, to accept it as a just punishment + for having married against the advice and wishes of my father.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do not abjure our past!” cried the young man; “the past which has + remained so dear to me through all.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not abjure it,” replied Maud, “for it was on recurring to it—it + was on returning to my early impressions—that I could find not an + excuse, but an explanation of your conduct. I remembered what you related + to me of the misfortunes of your childhood and of your youth, and how you + had grown up between your father and your mother, passing six months with + one, six months with the other—not caring for, not being able to + judge either of them—forced to hide from one your feelings for the + other. I saw for the first time that your parents’ separation had the + effect of saddening your heart at that epoch. It is that which perverted + your character.... And I read in advance Luc’s history in yours.... + Listen, Boleslas! I speak to you as I would speak before God! My first + feeling when that thought presented itself to my mind was not to resume + life with you; such a life would be henceforth too bitter. No, it was to + say to myself, I will have my son to myself. He shall feel my influence + alone. I saw you set out this morning—set out to insult me once + more, to sacrifice me once more! If you had been truly repentant would you + have offered me that last affront? And when you returned—when they + informed me that you had a broken arm—I wished to tell the little + one myself that you were ill.... I saw how much he loved you, I discovered + what a place you already occupied in his heart, and I comprehended that, + even if the law gave him to me, as I know it would, his childhood would be + like yours, his youth like your youth.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she went on, with an accent in which emotion struggled through her + pride, “I did not feel justified in destroying the respect so deep, the + love so true, he bears you, and I have come to say to you: You have + wronged me greatly. You have killed within me something that will never + come to life again. I feel that for years I shall carry a weight on my + mind and on my heart at the thought that you could have betrayed me as you + have. But I feel that for our boy this separation on which I had resolved + is too perilous. I feel that I shall find in the certainty of avoiding a + moral danger for him the strength to continue a common existence, and I + will continue it. But human nature is human nature, and that strength I + can have only on one condition.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” asked Boleslas. Maud’s speech, for it was a speech + carefully reflected upon, every phrase of which had been weighed by that + scrupulous conscience, contrasted strongly in its lucid reasoning with the + state of nervous excitement in which he had lived for several days. He had + been more pained by it than he would have been by passionate reproaches. + At the same time he had been moved by the reference to his son’s love for + him, and he felt that if he did not become reconciled with Maud at that + moment his future domestic life would be ended. There was a little of each + sentiment in the few words he added to the anxiety of his question. + “Although you have spoken to me very severely, and although you might have + said the same thing in other terms, although, above all, it is very + painful to me to have you condemn my entire character on one single error, + I love you, I love my son, and I agree in advance to your conditions. I + esteem your character too much to doubt that they will be reconcilable + with my dignity. As for the duel of this morning,” he added, “you know + very well that it was too late to withdraw without dishonor.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like your promise, first of all,” replied Madame Gorka, who did + not answer his last remark, “that during the time in which you are obliged + to keep your room no one shall be admitted.... I could not bear that + creature in my house, nor any one who would speak to me or to you of her.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise,” said the young man, who felt a flood of warmth enter his soul + at the first proof that the jealousy of the loving woman still existed + beneath the indignation of the wife. And he added, with a smile, “That + will not be a great sacrifice. And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then?... That the doctor will permit us to go to England. We will leave + orders for the management of things during our absence. We will go this + winter wherever you like, but not to this house; never again to this + city.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a promise, too,” said Boleslas, “and that will be no great + sacrifice either; and then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said she in a low voice, as if ashamed of herself. “You must + never write to her, you must never try to find out what has become of + her.” + </p> + <p> + “I give you my word,” replied Boleslas, taking her hand, and adding: “And + then?” + </p> + <p> + “There is no then,” said she, withdrawing her hand, but gently. And she + began to realize herself her promise of pardon, for she rearranged the + pillows under the wounded man’s head, while he resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my noble Maud, there is a then. It is that I shall prove to you how + much truth there was in my words of yesterday, in my assurance that I love + you in spite of my faults. It is the mother who returns to me today. But I + want my wife, my dear wife, and I shall win her back.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply. She experienced, on hearing him pronounce those last + words with a transfigured face, an emotion which did not vanish. She had + acquired, beneath the shock of her great sorrow, an intuition too deep of + her husband’s nature, and that facility, which formerly charmed her by + rendering her anxious, now inspired her with horror. That man with the + mobile and complaisant conscience had already forgiven himself. It + sufficed him to conceive the plan of a reparation of years, and to respect + himself for it—as if that was really sufficient—for the + difficult task. At least during the eight days which lapsed between that + conversation and their departure he strictly observed the promise he had + given his wife. In vain did Cibo, Pietrapertosa, Hafner, Ardea try to see + him. When the train which bore them away steamed out he asked his wife, + with a pride that time justified by deeds: + </p> + <p> + “Are you satisfied with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied that we have left Rome,” said she, evasively, and it was + true in two senses of the word: + </p> + <p> + First of all, because she did not delude herself with regard to the return + of the moral energy of which Boleslas was so proud. She knew that his + variable will was at the mercy of the first sensation. Then, what she had + not confessed to her husband, the sorrow of a broken friendship was joined + in her to the sorrows of a betrayed wife. The sudden discovery of the + infamy of Alba’s mother had not destroyed her strong affection for the + young girl, and during the entire week, busy with her preparations for a + final departure, she had not ceased to wonder anxiously: “What will she + think of my silence?... What has her mother told her?... What has she + divined?” + </p> + <p> + She had loved the “poor little soul,” as she called the Contessina in her + pretty English term. She had devoted to her the friendship peculiar to + young women for young girls—a sentiment—very strong and yet + very delicate, which resembles, in its tenderness, the devotion of an + elder sister for a younger. There is in it a little naive protection and + also a little romantic and gracious melancholy. The elder friend is severe + and critical. She tries to assuage, while envying them, the excessive + enthusiasms of the younger. She receives, she provokes her confidence with + the touching gravity of a counsellor. The younger friend is curious and + admiring. She shows herself in all the truth of that graceful awakening of + thoughts and emotions which precede her own period before marriage. And + when there is, as was the case with Alba Steno, a certain discord of soul + between that younger friend and her mother, the affection for the sister + chosen becomes so deep that it can not be broken without wounds on both + sides. It was for that reason that, on leaving Rome, faithful and noble + Maud experienced at once a sense of relief and of pain—of relief, + because she was no longer exposed to the danger of an explanation with + Alba; of pain, because it was so bitter a thought for her that she could + never justify her heart to her friend, could never aid her in emerging + from the difficulties of her life, could, finally, never love her openly + as she had loved her secretly. She said to herself as she saw the city + disappear in the night with its curves and its lights: + </p> + <p> + “If she thinks badly of me, may she divine nothing! Who will now prevent + her from yielding herself up to her sentiment for that dangerous and + perfidious Dorsenne? Who will console her when she is sad? Who will defend + her against her mother? I was perhaps wrong in writing to the woman, as I + did, the letter, which might have been delivered to her in her daughter’s + presence.... Ah, poor little soul!... May God watch over her!” + </p> + <p> + She turned, then, toward her son, whose hair she stroked, as if to + exorcise, by the evidence of present duty, the nostalgia which possessed + her at the thought of an affection sacrificed forever. Hers was a nature + too active, too habituated to the British virtue of self-control to submit + to the languor of vain emotions. + </p> + <p> + The two persons of whom her friendship, now impotent, had thought, were, + for various reasons, the two fatal instruments of the fate of the “poor + little soul,” and the vague remorse which Maud herself felt with regard to + the terrible note sent to Madame Steno in the presence of the young girl, + was only too true. When the servant had given that letter to the Countess, + saying that Madame Gorka excused herself on account of indisposition, Alba + Steno’s first impulse had been to enter her friend’s room. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to embrace her and to see if she has need of anything,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Madame has forbidden any one to enter her room,” replied the footman, + with embarrassment, and, at the same moment, Madame Steno, who had just + opened the note, said, in a voice which struck the young girl by its + change: + </p> + <p> + “Let us go; I do not feel well, either.” + </p> + <p> + The woman, so haughty, so accustomed to bend all to her will, was indeed + trembling in a very pitiful manner beneath the insult of those phrases + which drove her, Caterina Steno, away with such ignominy. She paled to the + roots of her fair hair, her face was distorted, and for the first and last + time Alba saw her form tremble. It was only for a few moments. At the foot + of the staircase energy gained the mastery in that courageous character, + created for the shock of strong emotions and for instantaneous action. But + rapid as had been that passage, it had sufficed to disconcert the young + girl. For not a moment did she doubt that the note was the cause of that + extraordinary metamorphosis in the Countess’s aspect and attitude. The + fact that Maud would not receive her, her friend, in her room was not less + strange. What was happening? What did the letter contain? What were they + hiding from her? If she had, the day before, felt the “needle in the + heart” only on divining a scene of violent explanation between her mother + and Boleslas Gorka, how would she have been agonized to ascertain the + state into which the few lines of Boleslas’s wife had cast that mother! + The anonymous denunciation recurred to her, and with it all the suspicion + she had in vain rejected. The mother was unaware that for months there was + taking place in her daughter a moral drama of which that scene formed a + decisive episode, she was too shrewd not to understand that her emotion + had been very imprudent, and that she must explain it. Moreover, the + rupture with Maud was irreparable, and it was necessary that Alba should + be included in it. + </p> + <p> + The mother, at once so guilty and so loving, so blind and so considerate, + had no sooner foreseen the necessity than her decision was made, and a + false explanation invented: + </p> + <p> + “Guess what Maud has just written me?” said she, brusquely, to her + daughter, when they were seated side by side in their carriage. God, what + balm the simple phrase introduced into Alba’s heart! Her mother was about + to show her the note! Her joy was short-lived! The note remained where the + Countess had slipped it, after having nervously folded it, in the opening + in her glove. And she continued: “She accuses me of being the cause of a + duel between her husband and Florent Chapron, and she quarrels with me by + letter, without seeing me, without speaking to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Boleslas Gorka has fought a duel with Florent Chapron?” repeated the + young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied her mother. “I knew that through Hafner. I did not speak of + it to you in order not to worry you with regard to Maud, and I have only + awaited her so long to cheer her up in case I should have found her + uneasy, and this is how she rewards me for my friendship! It seems that + Gorka took offence at some remark of Chapron’s about Poles, one of those + innocent remarks made daily on any nation—the Italians, the French, + the English, the Germans, the Jews—and which mean nothing.... I + repeated the remark in jest to Gorka!... I leave you to judge.... Is it my + fault if, instead of laughing at it, he insulted poor Florent, and if the + absurd encounter resulted from it? And Maud, who writes me that she will + never pardon me, that I am a false friend, that I did it expressly to + exasperate her husband.... Ah, let her watch her husband, let her lock him + up, if he is mad! And I, who have received them as I have, I, who have + made their position for them in Rome, I, who had no other thought than for + her just now!... You hear,” she added, pressing her daughter’s hand with a + fervor which was at least sincere, if her words were untruthful, “I forbid + you seeing her again or writing to her. If she does not offer me an + apology for her insulting note, I no longer wish to know her. One is + foolish to be so kind!” + </p> + <p> + For the first time, while listening to that speech, Alba was convinced + that her mother was deceiving her. Since suspicion had entered her heart + with regard to her mother, the object until then of such admiration and + affection, she had passed through many stages of mistrust. To talk with + the Countess was always to dissipate them. That was because Madame Steno, + apart from her amorous immorality, was of a frank and truthful nature. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a customary and known weakness of Florent’s to repeat those + witticisms which abound in national epigrams, as mediocre as they are + iniquitous. Alba could recall at least twenty circumstances when the + excellent man had uttered such jests at which a sensitive person might + take offence. She would not have thought it utterly impossible that a duel + between Gorka and Chapron might have been provoked by an incident of that + order. But Chapron was the brother-in-law of Maitland, of the new friend + with whom Madame Steno had become infatuated during the absence of the + Polish Count, and what a brother-in-law! He of whom Dorsenne said: “He + would set Rome on fire to cook an egg for his sister’s husband.” When + Madame Steno announced that duel to her daughter, an invincible and + immediate deduction possessed the poor child—Florent was fighting + for his brother-in-law. And on account of whom, if not of Madame Steno? + The thought would not, however, have possessed her a second in the face of + the very plausible explanation made by the Countess, if Alba had not had + in her heart a certain proof that her mother was not telling the truth. + The young girl loved Maud as much as she was loved by her. She knew the + sensibility of her faithful and, delicate friend, as that friend knew + hers. For Maud to write her mother a letter which produced an immediate + rupture, there must have been some grave reason. + </p> + <p> + Another material proof was soon joined to that moral proof. Granted the + character and the habits of the Countess, since she had not shown Maud’s + letter to her daughter there and then, it was because the letter was not + fit to be shown. But she heard on the following day only the description + of the duel, related by Maitland to Madame Steno, the savage aggression of + Gorka against Dorsenne, the composure of the latter and the issue, + relatively harmless, of the two duels. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said her mother to her, “I was right in saying that Gorka is + mad!... It seems he has had a fit of insanity since the duel, and that + they prevent him from seeing any one.... Can you now comprehend how Maud + could blame me for what is hereditary in the Gorka family?” + </p> + <p> + Such was indeed the story which the Venetian and her friends, Hafner, + Ardea, and others, circulated throughout Rome in order to diminish the + scandal. The accusation of madness is very common to women who have goaded + to excess man’s passion, and who then wish to avoid all blame for the + deeds or words of that man. In this case, Boleslas’s fury and his two + incomprehensible duels, fifteen minutes apart, justified the story. When + it became known in the city that the Palazzetto Doria was strictly closed, + that Maud Gorka received no one, and finally that she was taking away her + husband in the manner which resembled a flight, no doubt remained of the + young man’s wrecked reason. + </p> + <p> + Two persons profited very handsomely by the gossiping, the origin of which + was a mystery. One was the innkeeper of the ‘Tempo Perso’, whose simple + ‘bettola’ became, during those few days, a veritable place of pilgrimage, + and who sold a quantity of wine and numbers of fresh eggs. The other was + Dorsenne’s publisher, of whom the Roman booksellers ordered several + hundred volumes. + </p> + <p> + “If I had had that duel in Paris,” said the novelist to Mademoiselle + Steno, relating to her the unforeseen result, “I should perhaps have at + length known the intoxication of the thirtieth edition.” + </p> + <p> + It was a few days after the departure of the Gorkas that he jested thus, + at a large dinner of twenty-four covers, given at Villa Steno in honor of + Peppino Ardea and Fanny Hafner. Reestablished in the Countess’s favor + since his duel, he had again become a frequenter of her house, so much the + more assiduous as the increasing melancholy of Alba interested him + greatly. The enigma of the young girl’s character redoubled that interest + at each visit in such a degree that, notwithstanding the heat, already + beginning, of the dangerous Roman summer, he constantly deferred his + return to Paris until the morrow. What had she guessed in consequence of + the encounter, the details of which she had asked of him with an emotion + scarcely hidden in her eyes of a blue as clear, as transparent, as + impenetrable at the same time, as the water of certain Alpine lakes at the + foot of the glaciers. He thought he was doing right in corroborating the + story of Boleslas Gorka’s madness, which he knew better than any one else + to be false. But was it not the surest means of exempting Madame Steno + from connection with the affair? Why had he seen Alba’s beautiful eyes + veiled with a sadness inexplicable, as if he had just given her another + blow? He did not know that since the day on which the word insanity had + been uttered before her relative to Maud’s husband, the Contessina was the + victim of a reasoning as simple as irrefutable. + </p> + <p> + “If Boleslas be mad, as they say,” said Alba, “why does Maud, whom I know + to be so just and who loves me so dearly, attribute to my mother the + responsibility of this duel, to the point of breaking with me thus, and of + leaving without a line of explanation?... No.... There is something + else.”.... The nature of the “something else” the young girl comprehended, + on recalling her mother’s face during the perusal of Maud’s letter. During + the ten days following that scene, she saw constantly before her that + face, and the fear imprinted upon those features ordinarily so calm, so + haughty! Ah, poor little soul, indeed, who could not succeed in banishing + this fixed idea “My mother is not a good woman.” + </p> + <p> + Idea! So much the more terrible, as Alba had no longer the ignorance of a + young girl, if she had the innocence. Accustomed to the conversations, at + times very bold, of the Countess’s salon, enlightened by the reading of + novels chanced upon, the words lover and mistress had for her a + signification of physical intimacy such that it was an almost intolerable + torture for her to associate them with the relations of her mother, first + toward Gorka, then toward Maitland. That torture she had undergone during + the entire dinner, at the conclusion of which Dorsenne essayed to chat + gayly with her. She sat beside the painter, and the man’s very breath, his + gestures, the sound of his voice, his manner of eating and of drinking, + the knowledge of his very proximity, had caused her such keen suffering + that it was impossible for her to take anything but large glasses of iced + water. Several times during that dinner, prolonged amid the sparkle of + magnificent silver and Venetian crystal, amid the perfume of flowers and + the gleam of jewels, she had seen Maitland’s eyes fixed upon the Countess + with an expression which almost caused her to cry out, so clearly did her + instinct divine its impassioned sensuality, and once she thought she saw + her mother respond to it. + </p> + <p> + She felt with appalling clearness that which before she had uncertainly + experienced, the immodest character of that mother’s beauty. With the + pearls in her fair hair, with neck and arms bare in a corsage the delicate + green tint of which showed to advantage the incomparable splendor of her + skin, with her dewy lips, with her voluptuous eyes shaded by their long + lashes, the dogaresse looked in the centre of that table like an empress + and like a courtesan. She resembled the Caterina Cornaro, the gallant + queen of the island of Cypress, painted by Titian, and whose name she + worthily bore. For years Alba had been so proud of the ray of seduction + cast forth by the Countess, so proud of those statuesque arms, of the + superb carriage, of the face which defied the passage of time, of the + bloom of opulent life the glorious creature displayed. During that dinner + she was almost ashamed of it. + </p> + <p> + She had been pained to see Madame Maitland seated a few paces farther on, + with brow and lips contracted as if by thoughts of bitterness. She + wondered: Does Lydia suspect them, too? But was it possible that her + mother, whom she knew to be so generous, so magnanimous, so kind, could + have that smile of sovereign tranquillity with such secrets in her heart? + Was it possible that she could have betrayed Maud for months and months + with the same light of joy in her eyes? + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Julien, stopping himself suddenly in the midst of a speech, + in which he had related two or three literary anecdotes. “Instead of + listening to your friend Dorsenne, little Countess, you are following + several blue devils flying through the room.” + </p> + <p> + “They would fly, in any case,” replied Alba, who, pointing to Fanny Hafner + and Prince d’Ardea seated on a couch, continued: “Has what I told you a + few weeks since been realized? You do not know all the irony of it. You + have not assisted, as I did the day before yesterday, at the poor girl’s + baptism.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” replied Julien, “you were godmother. I dreamed of Leo + Thirteenth as godfather, with a princess of the house of Bourbon as + godmother. Hafner’s triumph would have been complete!” + </p> + <p> + “He had to content himself with his ambassador and your servant,” replied + Alba with a faint smile, which was speedily converted into an expression + of bitterness. “Are you satisfied with your pupil?” she added. “I am + progressing.... I laugh—when I wish to weep.... But you yourself + would not have laughed had you seen the fervor of charming Fanny. She was + the picture of blissful faith. Do not scoff at her.” + </p> + <p> + “And where did the ceremony take place?” asked Dorsenne, obeying the + almost suppliant injunction. + </p> + <p> + “In the chapel of the Dames du Cenacle.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the place,” replied the novelist, “one of the most beautiful + corners of Rome! It is in the old Palais Piancini, a large mansion almost + opposite the ‘Calcographie Royale’, where they sell those fantastic + etchings of the great Piranese, those dungeons and those ruins of so + intense a poesy! It is the Gaya of stone. There is a garden on the + terrace. And to ascend to the chapel one follows a winding staircase, an + incline without steps, and one meets nuns in violet gowns, with faces so + delicate in the white framework of their bonnets. In short, an ideal + retreat for one of my heroines. My old friend Montfanon took me there. As + we ascended to that tower, six weeks ago, we heard the shrill voices of + ten little girls, singing: ‘Questo cuor tu la vedrai’. It was a procession + of catechists, going in the opposite direction, with tapers which + flickered dimly in the remnant of daylight.... It was exquisite.... But, + now permit me to laugh at the thought of Montfanon’s choler when I relate + to him this baptism. If I knew where to find the old leaguer! But he has + been hiding since our duel. He is in some retreat doing penance. As I have + already told you, the world for him has not stirred since Francois de + Guise. He only admits the alms of the Protestants and the Jews. When + Monseigneur Guerillot tells him of Fanny’s religious aspirations, he raves + immoderately. Were she to cast herself to the lions, like Saint Blandine, + he would still cry out ‘sacrilege.’” + </p> + <p> + “He did not see her the day before yesterday,” said Alba, “nor the + expression upon her face when she recited the Credo. I do not believe in + mysticism, you know, and I have moments of doubt. There are times when I + can no longer believe in anything, life seems to me so wretched and + sad.... But I shall never forget that expression. She saw God!... Several + women were present with very touching faces, and there were many + devotees.... The Cardinal is very venerable.... All were by Fanny’s side, + like saints around the Madonna in the early paintings which you have + taught me to like, and when the baptism had been gone through, guess what + she said to me: ‘Come, let us pray for my dear father, and for his + conversion.’ Is not such blindness melancholy.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” said Dorsenne again, jocosely, “that in the father’s + dictionary the word has another meaning: Conversion, feminine substantive, + means to him income.... But let us reason a little, Countess. Why do you + think it sad that the daughter should see her father’s character in her + own light?... You should, on the contrary, rejoice at it.... And why do + you find it melancholy that this adorable saint should be the daughter of + a thief?... How I wish that you were really my pupil, and that it would + not be too absurd to give you here, in this corner of the hall, a lesson + in intellectuality!... I would say to you, when you see one of those + anomalies which renders you indignant, think of the causes. It is so easy. + Although Protestant, Fanny is of Jewish origin—that is to say, the + descendant of a persecuted race—which in consequence has developed + by the side of the inherent defects of a proscribed people the + corresponding virtues, the devotion, the abnegation of the woman who feels + that she is the grace of a threatened hearth, the sweet flower which + perfumes the sombre prison.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all beautiful and true,” replied Alba, very seriously. She had hung + upon Dorsenne’s lips while he spoke, with the instinctive taste for ideas + of that order which proved her veritable origin. “But you do not mention + the sorrow. This is what one can not do—look upon as a tapestry, as + a picture, as an object; the creature who has not asked to live and who + suffers. You, who have feeling, what is your theory when you weep?” + </p> + <p> + “I can very clearly foresee the day on which Fanny will feel her + misfortune,” continued the young girl. “I do not know when she will begin + to judge her father, but that she already begins to judge Ardea, alas, I + am only too sure.... Watch her at this moment, I pray you.” + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne indeed looked at the couple. Fanny was listening to the Prince, + but with a trace of suffering upon her beautiful face, so pure in outline + that the nobleness in it was ideal. + </p> + <p> + He was laughing at some anecdote which he thought excellent, and which + clashed with the sense of delicacy of the person to whom he was addressing + himself. They were no longer the couple who, in the early days of their + betrothal, had given to Julien the sentiment of a complete illusion on the + part of the young girl for her future husband. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Contessina,” said he, “the decrystallization has + commenced. It is a little too soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is too soon,” replied Alba. “And yet it is too late. Would you + believe that there are times when I ask myself if it would not be my duty + to tell her the truth about her marriage, such as I know it, with the + story of the weak man, the forced sale, and of the bargaining of Ardea?” + </p> + <p> + “You will not do it,” said Dorsenne. “Moreover, why? This one or another, + the man who marries her will only want her money, rest assured. It is + necessary that the millions be paid for here below, it is one of their + ransoms.... But I shall cause you to be scolded by your mother, for I am + monopolizing you, and I have still two calls to pay this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, postpone them,” said Alba. “I beseech you, do not go.” + </p> + <p> + “I must,” replied Julien. “It is the last Wednesday of old Duchess + Pietrapertosa, and after her grandson’s recent kindness—” + </p> + <p> + “She is so ugly,” said Alba, “will you sacrifice me to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is my compatriot, who goes away tomorrow and of whom I must + take leave this evening, Madame de Sauve, with whom you met me at the + museum.... You will not say she is ugly, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” responded Alba, dreamily, “she is very pretty.”.... She had another + prayer upon her lips, which she did not formulate. Then, with a beseeching + glance: “Return, at least. Promise me that you will return after your two + visits. They will be over in an hour and a half. It will not be midnight. + You know some do not ever come before one and sometimes two o’clock. You + will return?” + </p> + <p> + “If possible, yes. But at any rate, we shall meet to-morrow, at the + studio, to see the portrait.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, adieu,” said the young girl, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. COMMON MISERY + </h2> + <p> + The Contessina’s disposition was too different from her mother’s for the + mother to comprehend that heart, the more contracted in proportion as it + was touched, while emotion was synonymous with expansion in the opulent + and impulsive Venetian. That evening she had not even observed Alba’s + dreaminess, Dorsenne once gone, and it required that Hafner should call + her attention to it. To the scheming Baron, if the novelist was attentive + to the young girl it was certainly with the object of capturing a + considerable dowry. Julien’s income of twenty-five thousand francs meant + independence. The two hundred and fifty thousand francs which Alba would + have at her mother’s death was a very large fortune. So Hafner thought he + would deserve the name of “old friend,” by taking Madame Steno aside and + saying to her: + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think Alba has been a little strange for several days!” + </p> + <p> + “She has always been so,” replied the Countess. “Young people are like + that nowadays; there is no more youth.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think,” continued the Baron, “that perhaps there is another + cause for that sadness—some interest in some one, for example?” + </p> + <p> + “Alba?” exclaimed the mother. “For whom?” + </p> + <p> + “For Dorsenne,” returned Hafner, lowering his voice; “he just left five + minutes ago, and you see she is no longer interested in anything nor in + any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I should be very much pleased,” said Madame Steno, laughing. “He is a + handsome fellow; he has talent, fortune. He is the grand-nephew of a hero, + which is equivalent to nobility, in my opinion. But Alba has no thought of + it, I assure you. She would have told me; she tells me everything. We are + two friends, almost two comrades, and she knows I shall leave her + perfectly free to choose.... No, my old friend, I understand my daughter. + Neither Dorsenne nor any one else interests her, unfortunately. I + sometimes fear she will go into a decline, like her cousin Andryana + Navagero, whom she resembles.... But I must cheer her up. It will not take + long.” + </p> + <p> + “A Dorsenne for a son-in-law!” said Hafner to himself, as he watched the + Countess walk toward Alba through the scattered groups of her guests, and + he shook his head, turning his eyes with satisfaction upon his future + son-in-law. “That is what comes of not watching one’s children closely. + One fancies one understands them until some folly opens one’s eyes!... + And, it is too late!... Well, I have warned her, and it is no affair of + mine!” + </p> + <p> + In spite of Fanny’s observed and increasing vexation Ardea amused himself + by relating to her anecdotes, more or less true, of the goings-on in the + Vatican. He thus attempted to abate a Catholic enthusiasm at which he was + already offended. His sense of the ridiculous and that of his social + interest made him perceive how absurd it would be to go into clerical + society after having taken for a wife a millionaire converted the day + before. To be just, it must be added that the Countess’s dry champagne was + not altogether irresponsible for the persistency with which he teased his + betrothed. It was not the first time he had indulged in the + semi-intoxication which had been one of the sins of his youth, a sin less + rare in the southern climates than the modesty of the North imagines. + </p> + <p> + “You come opportunely, Contessina,” said he, when Mademoiselle Steno had + seated herself upon the couch beside them. “Your friend is scandalized by + a little story I have just told her.... The one of the noble guard who + used the telephone of the Vatican this winter to appoint rendezvous with + Guilia Rezzonico without awakening the jealousy of Ugolino.... But it is + nothing. I have almost quarrelled with Fanny for having revealed to her + that the Holy Father repeated his benediction in Chapel Sixtine, with a + singing master, like a prima donna....” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you that I do not like those jests,” said Fanny, with + visible irritation, which her patience, however, governed. “If you desire + to continue them, I will leave you to converse with Alba.” + </p> + <p> + “Since you see that you annoy her,” said the latter to the Prince, “change + the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Contessina,” replied Peppino, shaking his head, “you support her + already. What will it be later? Well, I apologize for my innocent epigrams + on His Holiness in his dressing-gown. And,” he continued, laughing, “it is + a pity, for I have still two or three entertaining stories, notably one + about a coffer filled with gold pieces, which a faithful bequeathed to the + Pope. And that poor, dear man was about to count them when the coffer + slipped from his hand, and there was the entire treasure on the floor, and + the Pope and a cardinal on all fours were scrambling for the napoleons, + when a servant entered.... Tableau! ....I assure you that good Pius IX + would be the first to laugh with us at all the Vatican jokes. He is not so + much ‘alla mano’. But he is a holy man just the same. Do not think I do + not render him justice. Only, the holy man is a man, and a good old man. + That is what you do not wish to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” said Alba to Fanny, who had risen as she had + threatened to do. + </p> + <p> + “To talk with my father, to whom I have several words to say.” + </p> + <p> + “I warned you to change the subject,” said Alba, when she and the Prince + were alone. Ardea, somewhat abashed, shrugged his shoulders and laughed: + </p> + <p> + “You will confess that the situation is quite piquant, little Countess.... + You will see she will forbid me to go to the Quirinal.... Only one thing + will be lacking, and it is that Papa Hafner should discover religious + scruples which would prevent him from greeting the King.... But Fanny must + be appeased!” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” said Alba to herself, seeing the young man rise in his turn. “I + believe he is intoxicated. What a pity!” + </p> + <p> + As have almost all revolutions of that order, the work of Christianity, + accomplished for years, in Fanny had for its principle an example. + </p> + <p> + The death of a friend, the sublime death of a true believer, ended by + determining her faith. She saw the dying woman receive the sacrament, and + the ineffable joy of the benediction upon the face of the sufferer of + twenty lighted up by ecstasy. She heard her say, with a smile of + conviction: + </p> + <p> + “I go to ask you of Our Lord, Jesus Christ.” + </p> + <p> + How could she have resisted such a cry and such a sight? + </p> + <p> + The very day after that death she asked of her father permission to be + baptized, which request drew from the Baron a reply too significant not to + be repeated here: + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly,” had replied the surprising man, who instead of a heart, had + a Bourse list on which all was tariffed, even God, “undoubtedly I am + touched, very deeply touched, and very happy to see that religious matters + preoccupy you to such a degree. To the people it is a necessary curb, and + to us it accords with a certain rank, a certain society, a certain + deportment. I think that a person called like you to live in Austria and + in Italy should be a Catholic. However, it is necessary to remember that + you might marry some one of another faith. Do not object. I am your + father. I can foresee all. I know you will marry only according to the + dictates of your heart. Wait then until it has spoken, to settle the + question.... If you love a Catholic, you will then have occasion to pay a + compliment to your betrothed by adopting his faith, of which he will be + very sensible.... From now until then, I shall not prevent you from + following ceremonies which please you. Those of the Roman liturgy are, + assuredly, among the best; I myself attended Saint Peter’s at the time of + the pontifical government.... The taste, the magnificence, the music, all + moved me.... But to take a definite, irreparable step, I repeat, you must + wait. Your actual condition of a Protestant has the grand sentiment of + being more neutral, less defined.” + </p> + <p> + What words to listen to by a heart already touched by the attraction of + ‘grace and by the nostalgia of eternal life! But the heart was that of a + young girl very pure and very tender. To judge her father was to her + impossible, and the Baron’s firmness had convinced her that she must obey + his wishes and pray that he be enlightened. She therefore waited, hoping, + sustained and directed meanwhile by Cardinal Guerillot, who later on was + to baptize her and to obtain for her the favor of approaching the holy + table for the first time at the Pope’s mass. That prelate, one of the + noblest figures of which the French bishopric has had cause to be proud, + since Monseigneur Pie, was one of those grand Christians for whom the hand + of God is as visible in the direction of human beings as it is invisible + to doubtful souls. When Fanny, already devoted to her charities, confided + in him the serious troubles of her mind and the discord which had arisen + between her and her father on the so essential point of her baptism, the + Cardinal replied: + </p> + <p> + “Have faith in God. He will give you a sign when your time has come.” And + he uttered those words with an accent whose conviction had filled the + young girl with a certainty which had never left her. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his seventy years, and of the experiences of the confession, + in spite of the disenchanting struggle with the freemasonry of his French + diocese, which had caused his exile to Rome, the venerable man looked at + Fanny’s marriage from a supernatural standpoint. Many priests are thus + capable of a naivete which, on careful analysis, is often in the right. + But at the moment the antithesis between the authentic reality and that + which they believe, constitutes an irony almost absurd. When he had + baptized Fanny, the old Bishop of Clermont was possessed by a joy so deep + that he said to her, to express to her the more delicately the tender + respect of his friendship: + </p> + <p> + “I can now say as did Saint Monica after the baptism of Saint Augustine: + ‘Cur hic sim, nescio; jam consumpta spe hujus saeculi’. I do not know why + I remain here below. All my hope of the age is consummated. And like her I + can add—the only thing which made me desire to remain awhile was to + see you a Catholic before dying. The traveller, who has tarried, has now + nothing to do but to go. He has gathered the last and the prettiest + flower.”.... + </p> + <p> + Noble and faithful apostle, who was indeed to go so shortly after, + meriting what they said of him, that which the African bishop said of his + mother: “That religious soul was at length absolved from her body.”.... He + did not anticipate that he would pay dearly for that realization of his + last wish! He did not foresee that she whom he ingenuously termed his most + beautiful flower was to become to him the principal cause of bitter + sorrow. Poor, grand Cardinal! It was the final trial of his life, the + supremely bitter drop in his chalice, to assist at the disenchantment + which followed so closely upon the blissful intoxication of his gentle + neophyte’s first initiation. To whom, if not to him, should she have gone + to ask counsel, in all the tormenting doubts which she at once began to + have in her feelings with regard to her fiance? + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, that on the day following the evening on which + imprudent Ardea had jested so persistently upon a subject sacred to her + that she rang at the door of the apartment which Monseigneur Guerillot + occupied in the large mansion on Rue des Quatre-Fontaines. There was no + question of incriminating the spirit of those pleasantries, nor of + relating her humiliating observations on the Prince’s intoxication. No. + She wished to ease her mind, on which rested a shade of sorrow. At the + time of her betrothal, she had fancied she loved Ardea, for the emotion of + her religious life at length freed had inspired her with gratitude for him + who was, however, only the pretext of that exemption. She trembled to-day, + not only at not loving him any more, but at hating him, and above all she + felt herself a prey to that repugnance for the useless cares of the world, + to that lassitude of transitory hopes, to that nostalgia of repose in God, + undeniable signs of true vocations. + </p> + <p> + At the thought that she might, if she survived her father and she remained + free, retire to the ‘Dames du Cenacle,’ she felt at her approaching + marriage an inward repugnance, which augmented still more the proof of her + future husband’s deplorable character. Had she the right to form such + bonds with such feelings? Would it be honorable to break, without further + developments, the betrothal which had been between her and her father the + condition of her baptism? She was already there, after so few days! And + her wound was deeper after the night on which the Prince had, uttered his + careless jests. + </p> + <p> + “It is permitted you to withdraw,” replied Monsieur Guerillot, “but you + are not permitted to lack charity in your judgment.” + </p> + <p> + There was within Fanny too much sincerity, her faith was too simple and + too deep for her not to follow out that advice to the letter, and she + conformed to it in deeds as well as in intentions. For, before taking a + walk in the afternoon with Alba, she took the greatest care to remove all + traces which the little scene of the day before could have left in her + friend’s mind. Her efforts went very far. She would ask pardon of her + fiance.... Pardon! For what? For having been wounded by him, wounded to + the depths of her sensibility? She felt that the charity of judgment + recommended by the pious Cardinal was a difficult virtue. It exercises a + discipline of the entire heart, sometimes irreconcilable with the + clearness of the intelligence. Alba looked at her friend with a glance + full of an astonishment, almost sorrowful, and she embraced her, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Peppino is not worthy even to kiss the ground on which you tread, that is + my opinion, and if he does not spend his entire life in trying to be + worthy of you, it will be a crime.” + </p> + <p> + As for the Prince himself, the impulses which dictated to his fiancee + words of apology when he was in the wrong, were not unintelligible to him, + as they would have been to Hafner. He thought that the latter had lectured + his daughter, and he congratulated himself on having cut short at once + that little comedy of exaggerated religious feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that,” said he, with condescension, “it is I who have failed + in form. For at heart you have always found me respectful of that which my + fathers respected. But times have changed, and certain fanaticisms are no + longer admissible. That is what I have wished to say to you in such a + manner that you could take no offence.” + </p> + <p> + And he gallantly kissed Fanny’s tiny hand, not divining that he had + redoubled the melancholy of that too-generous child. The discord continued + to be excessive between the world of ideas in which she moved and that in + which the ruined Prince existed. As the mystics say with so much depth, + they were not of the same heaven. + </p> + <p> + Of all the chimeras which had lasted hours, God alone remained. It + sufficed the noble creature to say: “My father is so happy, I will not mar + his joy.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do my duty toward my husband. I will be so good a wife that I will + transform him. He has religion. He has heart. It will be my role to make + of him a true Christian. And then I shall have my children and the poor.” + Such were the thoughts which filled the mind of the envied betrothed. For + her the journals began to describe the dresses already prepared, for her a + staff of tailors, dressmakers, needlewomen and jewellers were working; she + would have on her contract the same signature as a princess of the blood, + who would be a princess herself and related to one of the most glorious + aristocracies in the world. Such were the thoughts she would no doubt have + through life, as she walked in the garden of the Palais Castagna, that + historical garden in which is still to be seen a row of pear-trees, in the + place where Sixte-Quint, near death, gathered some fruit. He tasted it, + and he said to Cardinal Castagna—playing on their two names, his + being Peretti—“The pears are spoiled. The Romans have had enough. + They will soon eat chestnuts.” That family anecdote enchanted Justus + Hafner. It seemed to him full of the most delightful humor. He repeated it + to his colleagues at the club, to his tradesmen, to it mattered not whom. + He did not even mistrust Dorsenne’s irony. + </p> + <p> + “I met Hafner this morning on the Corso,” said the latter to Alba at one + of the soirees at the end of the month, “and I had my third edition of the + pleasantry on the pears and chestnuts. And then, as we took a few steps in + the same direction, he pointed out to me the Palais Bonaparte, saying, ‘We + are also related to them.’.... Which means that a grand-nephew of the + Emperor married a cousin of Peppino.... I swear he thinks he is related to + Napoleon!... He is not even proud of it. The Bonapartes are nowhere when + it is a question of nobility!... I await the time when he will blush.” + </p> + <p> + “And I the time when he will be punished as he deserves,” interrupted Alba + Steno, in a mournful voice. “He is insolently triumphant. But no. ....He + will succeed.... If it be true that his fortune is one immense theft, + think of those he has ruined. In what can they believe in the face of his + infamous happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “If they are philosophers,” replied Dorsenne, laughing still more gayly, + “this spectacle will cause them to meditate on the words uttered by one of + my friends: ‘One can not doubt the hand of God, for it created the world.’ + Do you remember a certain prayer-book of Montluc’s?” + </p> + <p> + “The one which your friend Montfanon bought to vex the poor little thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. The old-leaguer has returned it to Ribalta; the latter told me + so yesterday; no doubt in a spirit of mortification. I say no doubt for I + have not seen the poor, dear man since the duel, which his impatience + toward Ardea and Hafner rendered in evitable. He retired, I know not for + how many days, to the convent of Mount Olivet, near Sienna, where he has a + friend, one Abbe de Negro, of whom he always speaks as of a saint. I + learned, through Rebalta, that he has returned, but is invisible. I tried + to force an entrance. In short, the volume is again in the shop of the + curiosity-seeker in the Rue Borgognona, if Mademoiselle Hafner still wants + it!” + </p> + <p> + “What good fortune!” exclaimed Fanny, with a sparkle of delight in her + eyes. “I did not know what present to offer my dear Cardinal. Shall we + make the purchase at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Montluc’s prayer-book?” repeated old Ribalta, when the two young ladies + had alighted from the carriage before his small book-shop, more dusty, + more littered than ever with pamphlets, in which he still was, with his + face more wrinkled, more wan and more proud, peering from beneath his + broad-brimmed hat, which he did not raise. “How do you know it is here? + Who has told you? Are there spies everywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “It was Monsieur Dorsenne, one of Monsieur de Montfanon’s friends,” said + Fanny, in her gentle voice. + </p> + <p> + “Sara sara,” replied the merchant with his habitual insolence, and, + opening the drawer of the chest in which he kept the most incongruous + treasures, he drew from it the precious volume, which he held toward them, + without giving it up. Then he began a speech, which reproduced the details + given by Montfanon himself. “Ah, it is very authentic. There is an + indistinct but undeniable signature. I have compared it with that which is + preserved in the archives of Sienna. It is Montluc’s writing, and there is + his escutcheon with the turtles.... Here, too, are the half-moons of the + Piccolomini.... This book has a history....” + </p> + <p> + “The Marshal gave it, after the famous siege, to one of the members of + that illustrious family. And it was for one of the descendants that I was + commissioned to buy it.... They will not give it up for less than two + thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “What a cheat!” said Alba to her companion, in English. “Dorsenne told me + that Monsieur de Monfanon bought it for four hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” asked Fanny, who, on receiving a reply in the affirmative, + addressed the bookseller, with the same gentleness, but with reproach in + her accent: “Two thousand francs, Monsieur Ribalta? But it is not a just + price, since you sold it to Monsieur de Montfanon for one-fifth of that + sum.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am a liar and a thief,” roughly replied the old man; “a thief and + a liar,” he repeated. “Four hundred francs! You wish to have this book for + four hundred francs? I wish Monsieur de Montfanon was here to tell you how + much I asked him for it.” + </p> + <p> + The old bookseller smiled cruelly as he replaced the prayerbook in the + drawer, the key of which he turned, and turning toward the two young + girls, whose delicate beauty, heightened by their fine toilettes, + contrasted so delightfully with the sordid surroundings, he enveloped them + with a glance so malicious that they shuddered and instinctively drew + nearer one another. Then the bookseller resumed, in a voice hoarser and + deeper than ever: “If you wish to spend four hundred francs I have a + volume which is worth it, and which I propose to take to the Palais + Savorelli one of these days.... Ha, ha! It must be one of the very last, + for the Baron has bought them all.” In uttering, those enigmatical words, + he opened the cup board which formed the lower part of the chest, and took + from one of the shelves a book wrapped in a newspaper. He then unfolded + the journal, and, holding the volume in his enormous hand with his dirty + nails, he disclosed the title to the two young girls: ‘Hafner and His + Band; Some Reflections on the Scandalous Acquittal. By a Shareholder.’ It + was a pamphlet, at that date forgotten, but which created much excitement + at one time in the financial circles of Paris, of London and of Berlin, + having been printed at once in three languages—in French, in German + and in English—on the day after the suit of the ‘Credit Austro + Dalmate.’ The dealer’s chestnut-colored eyes twinkled with a truly + ferocious joy as he held out the volume and repeated: + </p> + <p> + “It is worth four hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not read that book, Fanny,” said Alba quickly, after having read the + title of the work, and again speaking in English; “it is one of those + books with which one should not even pollute one’s thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “You may keep the book, sir,” she continued, “since you have made yourself + the accomplice of those who have written it, by speculating on the fear + you hoped it would inspire. Mademoiselle Hafner has known of it long, and + neither she nor her father will give a centime.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well! So much the better, so much the better,” said Ribalta, + wrapping up his volume again; “tell your father I will keep it at his + service.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the miserable man!” said Alba, when Fanny and she had left the shop + and reentered the carriage. “To dare to show you that!” + </p> + <p> + “You saw,” replied Fanny, “I was so surprised I could not utter a word. + That the man should offer me that infamous work is very impertinent. My + father?... You do not know his scrupulousness in business. It is the honor + of his profession. There is not a sovereign in Europe who has not given + him a testimonial.” + </p> + <p> + That impassioned protestation was so touching, the generous child’s + illusion was so sincere, that Alba pressed her hand with a deeper + tenderness. When Alba found herself that evening with her friend Dorsenne, + who again dined at Madame Steno’s, she took him aside to relate to him the + tragical scene, and to ask him: “Have you seen that pamphlet?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day,” said the writer. “Montfanon, whom I have found at length, has + just bought one of the two copies which Ribalta received lately. The old + leaguer believes everything, you know, when a Hafner is in the + question.... I am more skeptical in the bad as well as in the good. It was + only the account given by the trial which produced any impression on me, + for that is truth.” + </p> + <p> + “But he was acquitted.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dorsenne, “though it is none the less true that he ruined + hundreds and hundreds of persons.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, by the account given you of the case, it is clear to you that he is + dishonest,” interrupted Alba. + </p> + <p> + “As clear as that you are here, Contessina,” replied Dorsenne, “if to + steal means to plunder one’s neighbors and to escape justice. But that + would be nothing. The sinister corner in this affair is the suicide of one + Schroeder, a brave citizen of Vienna, who knew our Baron intimately, and + who invested, on the advice of his excellent friend, his entire fortune, + three hundred thousand florins, in the scheme. He lost them, and, in + despair, killed himself, his wife, and their three children.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” cried Alba, clasping her hands. “And Fanny might have read that + letter in the book.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Julien, “and all the rest with proof in support of it. + But rest assured, she shall not have the volume. I will go to that + anarchist of a Ribalta to-morrow and I will buy the last copy, if Hafner + has not already bought it.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his constant affectation of irony, and, notwithstanding, + his assumption of intellectual egotism, Julien was obliging. He never + hesitated to render any one a service. He had not told his little friend + an untruth when he promised her to buy the dangerous work, and the + following morning he turned toward the Rue Borgognona, furnished with the + twenty louis demanded by the bookseller. Imagine his feelings when the + latter said to him: + </p> + <p> + “It is too late, Monsieur Dorsenne. The young lady was here last night. + She pretended not to prefer one volume to the other. It was to bargain, no + doubt. Ha, ha! But she had to pay the price. I would have asked the father + more. One owes some consideration to a young girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” exclaimed the novelist. “And you can jest after having committed + that Judas-like act! To inform a child of her father’s misdeeds, when she + is ignorant of them!... Never, do you hear, never any more will Monsieur + de Montfanon and I set foot in your shop, nor Monseigneur Guerillot, nor + any of the persons of my acquaintance. I will tell the whole world of your + infamy. I will write it, and it shall appear in all the journals of Rome. + I will ruin you, I will force you to close this dusty old shop.” + </p> + <p> + During the entire day, Dorsenne vainly tried to shake off the weight of + melancholy which that visit to the brigand of the Rue Borgognona had left + upon his heart. + </p> + <p> + On crossing, at nine o’clock, the threshold of the Villa Steno to give an + account of his mission to the Contessina, he was singularly moved. There + was no one there but the Maitlands, two tourists and two English + diplomatists, on their way to posts in the East. + </p> + <p> + “I was awaiting you,” said Alba to her friend, as soon as she could speak + with him in a corner of the salon. “I need your advice. Last night a + tragical incident took place at the Hafner’s.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably,” replied Dorsenne. “Fanny has bought Ribalta’s book.” + </p> + <p> + “She has bought the book!” said Alba, changing color and trembling. “Ah, + the unhappy girl; the other thing was not sufficient!” + </p> + <p> + “What other thing?” questioned Julien. + </p> + <p> + “You remember,” said the young girl, “that I told you of that Noe Ancona, + the agent who served Hafner as a tool in selling up Ardea, and in thus + forcing the marriage. Well, it seems this personage did not think himself + sufficiently well-paid for his complicity. He demanded of the Baron a + large sum, with which to found some large swindling scheme, which the + latter refused point-blank. The other threatened to relate their little + dealing to Ardea, and he did so.” + </p> + <p> + “And Peppino was angry?” asked Dorsenne, shaking his head. “That is not + like him.” + </p> + <p> + “Indignant or not,” continued Alba, “last night he went to the Palais + Savorelli to make a terrible scene with his future father-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “And to obtain an increase of dowry,” said Julian. + </p> + <p> + “He was not by any means tactful, then,” replied Alba, “for even in the + presence of Fanny, who entered in the midst of their conversation, he did + not pause. Perhaps he had drunk a little more than he could stand, which + has of late become common with him. But, you see, the poor child was + initiated into the abominable bargain with regard to her future, to her + happiness, and if she has read the book, too! It is too dreadful!” + </p> + <p> + “What a violent scene!” exclaimed Dorsenne. “So the engagement has been + broken off?” + </p> + <p> + “Not officially. Fanny is ill in bed from the excitement. Ardea came this + morning to see my mother, who has also seen Hafner. She has reconciled + them by proving to them, which she thinks true, that they have a common + interest in avoiding all scandal, and arranging matters. But it rests with + the poor little one. Mamma wished me to go, this afternoon, to beseech her + to reconsider her resolution. For she has told her father she never wishes + to hear the Prince’s voice again. I have refused. Mamma insists. Am I not + right?” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” replied Julien. “What would be her life alone with her + father, now that her illusions with regard to him have been swept away?” + </p> + <p> + The touching scene had indeed taken place, and less than twenty-four hours + after the novelist had thus expressed to himself the regret of not + assisting at it. Only he was mistaken as to the tenor of the dialogue, in + a manner which proved that the subtlety of intelligence will never divine + the simplicity of the heart. The most dolorous of all moral tragedies knit + and unknit the most often in silence. It was in the afternoon, toward six + o’clock, that a servant came to announce Mademoiselle Hafner’s visit to + the Contessina, busy at that moment reading for the tenth time the + ‘Eglogue Mondaine,’ that delicate story by Dorsenne. When Fanny entered + the room, Alba could see what a trial her charming god-daughter of the + past week had sustained, by the surprising and rapid alteration in that + expressive and noble visage. She took her hand at first without speaking + to her, as if she was entirely ignorant of the cause of her friend’s real + indisposition. She then said: + </p> + <p> + “How pleased I am to see you! Are you better?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never been ill,” replied Fanny, who did not know how to tell an + untruth. “I have had pain, that is all.” Looking at Alba, as if to beg her + to ask no question, she added: + </p> + <p> + “I have come to bid you adieu.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going away?” asked the Contessina. “Yes,” said Fanny, “I am going + to spend the summer at one of our estates in Styria.” And, in a low voice: + “Has your mother told you that my engagement is broken?” “Yes,” replied + Alba, and both were again silent. After several moments Fanny was the + first to ask: “And how shall you spend your summer?”—“We shall go to + Piove, as usual,” was Alba’s answer. “Perhaps Dorsenne will be there, and + the Maitlands will surely be.” A third pause ensued. They gazed at one + another, and, without uttering another word, they distinctly read one + another’s hearts. The martyrdom they suffered was so similar, they both + knew it to be so like, that they felt the same pity possess them at the + same moment. Forced to condemn with the most irrevocable condemnation, the + one her father, the other, her mother, each felt attracted toward the + friend, like her, unhappy, and, falling into one another’s arms, they both + sobbed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE LAKE DI PORTO + </h2> + <p> + Her friend’s tears had relieved sad Alba’s heart while she held that + friend in her arms, quivering with sorrow and pity; but when she was gone, + and Madame Steno’s daughter was alone, face to face with her thoughts, a + greater distress seized her. The pity which her companion in misery had + shown for her—was it not one more proof that she was right in + mistrusting her mother? Alas! The miserable child did not know that while + she was plunged in despair, there was in Rome and in her immediate + vicinity a creature bent upon realizing a mad vow. And that creature was + the same who had not recoiled before the infamy of an anonymous letter, + pretty and sinister Lydia Maitland—that delicate, that silent young + woman with the large brown eyes, always smiling, always impenetrable in + the midst of that dull complexion which no emotion, it seemed, had ever + tinged. The failure of her first attempt had exasperated her hatred + against her husband and against the Countess to the verge of fury, but a + concentrated fury, which was waiting for another occasion to strike, for + weeks, patiently, obscurely. She had thought to wreak her vengeance by the + return of Gorka, and in what had it ended? In freeing Lincoln from a + dangerous rival and in imperilling the life of the only being for whom she + cared! + </p> + <p> + The sojourn at the country-seat of her husband’s mistress exasperated + Lydia’s hidden anger. She suffered so that she cried aloud, like an + imprisoned animal beating against the bars, when she pictured to herself + the happiness which the two lovers would enjoy in the intimacy of the + villa, with the beauties of the Venetian scenery surrounding them. No + doubt the wife could provoke a scandal and obtain a divorce, thanks to + proofs as indisputable as those with which she had overwhelmed Maud. It + would be sufficient to carry to a lawyer the correspondence in the Spanish + escritoire. But of what use? She would not be avenged on her husband, to + whom a divorce would be a matter of indifference now that he earned as + much money as he required, and she would lose her brother. In vain Lydia + told herself that, warned as Alba had been by her letter, her doubt of + Madame Steno’s misconduct would no longer be impossible. She was convinced + by innumerable trifling signs that the Contessina still doubted, and then + she concluded: + </p> + <p> + “It is there that the blow must be struck. But how?” + </p> + <p> + Yes. How? There was at the service of hatred in that delicate woman, in + appearance oblivious of worldliness, that masculine energy in decision + which is to be found in all families of truly military origin. The blood + of Colonel Chapron stirred within her and gave her the desire to act. By + dint of pondering upon those reasonings, Lydia ended by elaborating one of + those plans of a simplicity really infernal, in which she revealed what + must be called the genius of evil, for there was so much clearness in the + conception and of villainy in the execution. She assured herself that it + was unnecessary to seek any other stage than the studio for the scene she + meditated. She knew too well the fury of passion by which Madame Steno was + possessed to doubt that, as soon as she was alone with Lincoln, she did + not refuse him those kisses of which their correspondence spoke. The snare + to be laid was very simple. It required that Alba and Lydia should be in + some post of observation while the lovers believed themselves alone, were + it only for a moment. The position of the places furnished the formidable + woman with the means of obtaining the place of espionage in all security. + Situated on the second floor, the studio occupied most of the depth of the + house. The wall, which separated it from the side of the apartments, ended + in a partition formed of colored glass, through which it was impossible to + see. That glass lighted a dark corridor adjoining the linen-room. Lydia + employed several hours of several nights in cutting with a diamond a hole, + the size of a fifty centime-piece, in one of those unpolished squares. + </p> + <p> + Her preparations had been completed several days when, notwithstanding her + absence of scruple in the satiating of her hatred, she still hesitated to + employ that mode of vengeance, so much atrocious cruelty was there in + causing a daughter to spy upon her mother. It was Alba herself who kindled + the last spark of humanity with which that dark conscience was lighted up, + and that by the most innocent of conversations. It was the very evening of + the afternoon on which she had exchanged that sad adieu with Fanny Hafner. + She was more unnerved than usual, and she was conversing with Dorsenne in + that corner of the long hall. They did not heed the fact that Lydia drew + near them, by a simple change of seat which permitted her, while herself + conversing with some guest, to lend an ear to the words uttered by the + Contessina. + </p> + <p> + It was Florent who was the subject of their conversation, and she said to + Dorsenne, who was praising him: + </p> + <p> + “What would you have? It is true I almost feel repulsion toward him. He is + to me like a being of another species. His friendship for his + brother-in-law? Yes. It is very beautiful, very touching; but it does not + touch me. It is a devotion which is not human. It is too instinctive and + too blind. Indeed, I know that I am wrong. There is that prejudice of race + which I can never entirely overcome.” + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne touched her fingers at that moment, under the pretext of taking + from her her fan, in reality to warn her, and he said, in a very low voice + that time: + </p> + <p> + “Let us go a little farther on. Lydia Maitland is too near.” + </p> + <p> + He fancied he surprised a start on the part of Florent’s sister, at whom + he accidentally glanced, while his too-sensible interlocutor no longer + watched her! But as the pretty, clear laugh of Lydia rang out at the same + moment, imprudent Alba replied: + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately, she has heard nothing. And see how one can speak of trouble + without mistrusting it.... I have just been wicked,” she continued, “for + it is not their fault, neither Florent’s nor hers, if there is a little + negro blood in their veins, so much the more so as it is connected by the + blood of a hero, and they are both perfectly educated, and what is better, + perfectly good, and then I know very well that if there is a grand thought + in this age it is to have proclaimed that truly all men are brothers.” + </p> + <p> + She had spoken in a lower voice, but too late. Moreover, even if Florent’s + sister could have heard those words, they would not have sufficed to heal + the wound which the first ones had made in the most sensitive part of her + ‘amour propre’! + </p> + <p> + “And I hesitated,” said she to herself, “I thought of sparing her!” + </p> + <p> + The following morning, toward noon, she found herself at the atelier, + seated beside Madame Steno, while Lincoln gave to the portrait the last + touches, and while Alba posed in the large armchair, absent and pale as + usual. Florent Chapron, after having assisted at part of the sitting, left + the room, leaning upon the crutch, which he still used. His withdrawal + seemed so propitious to Lydia that she resolved immediately not to allow + such an opportunity to escape, and as if fatality interfered to render her + work of infamy more easy, Madame Steno aided her by suddenly interrupting + the work of the painter who, after hard working without speaking for half + an hour, paused to wipe his forehead, on which were large drops of + perspiration, so great was his excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my little Linco,” said she, with the affectionate solicitude of an + old mistress, “you must rest. For two hours you have not ceased painting, + and such minute details.... It tires me merely to watch you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all tired,” replied Maitland, who, however, laid down his + palette and brush, and rolling a cigarette, lighted it, continuing, with a + proud smile: “We have only that one superiority, we Americans, but we have + it—it is a power to apply ourselves which the Old World no longer + knows.... It is for that reason that there are professions in which we + have no rivals.” + </p> + <p> + “But see!” replied Lydia, “you have taken Alba for a Bostonian or a New + Yorker, and you have made her pose so long that she is pale. She must have + a change. Come with me, dear, I will show you the costume they have sent + me from Paris, and which I shall wear this afternoon to the garden party + at the English embassy.” + </p> + <p> + She forced Alba Steno to rise from the armchair as she uttered those + words, then she entwined her arms about her waist to draw her away and + kissed her. Ah, if ever a caress merited being compared to the hideous + flattery of Iscariot, it was that, and the young girl might have replied + with the sublime words: “Friend, why hast thou betrayed me by a kiss?” + Alas! She believed in it, in the sincerity of that proof of affection, and + she returned her false friend’s kiss with a gratitude which did not soften + that heart saturated with hatred, for five minutes had not passed ere + Lydia had put into execution her hideous project. Under the pretext of + reaching the liner-room more quickly, she took a servant’s staircase, + which led to that lobby with the glass partition, in which was the opening + through which to look into the atelier. + </p> + <p> + “This is very strange,” said she, pausing suddenly. And, pointing out to + her innocent companion the round spot, she said: “Probably some servant + who has wished to eavesdrop.—But what for? You, who are tall, look + and see how it has been done and what it looks on. If it is a hole cut + purposely, I shall discover the culprit and he shall go.” + </p> + <p> + Alba obeyed the perfidious request absently, and applied her eye to the + aperture. The author of the anonymous letters had chosen her moment only + too well. As soon as the door of the studio was closed, the Countess rose + to approach Lincoln. She entwined around the young man’s neck her arms, + which gleamed through the transparent sleeves of her summer gown, and she + kissed with greedy lips his eyes and mouth. Lydia, who had retained one of + the girl’s hands in hers, felt that hand tremble convulsively. A hunter + who hears rustle the foliage of the thicket through which should pass the + game he is awaiting, does not experience a joy more complete. Her snare + was successful. She said to her unhappy victim: + </p> + <p> + “What ails you? How you tremble!” + </p> + <p> + And she essayed to push her away in order to put herself in her place. + Alba, whom the sight of her mother embracing Lincoln with those passionate + kisses inspired at that moment with an inexplicable horror, had, however, + enough presence of mind in the midst of her suffering to understand the + danger of that mother whom she had surprised thus, clasping in the arms of + a guilty mistress—whom?—the husband of the very woman speaking + to her, who asked her why she trembled with fear, who would look through + that same hole to see that same tableau!... In order to prevent what she + believed would be to Lydia a terrible revelation, the courageous child had + one of those desperate thoughts such as immediate peril inspires. With her + free hand she struck the glass so violently that it was shivered into + atoms, cutting her fingers and her wrist. + </p> + <p> + Lydia exclaimed, angrily: + </p> + <p> + “Miserable girl, you did that purposely!” + </p> + <p> + The fierce creature as she uttered these words, rushed toward the large + hole now made in the panel—too late! + </p> + <p> + She only saw Lincoln erect in the centre of the studio, looking toward the + broken window, while the Countess, standing a few paces from him, + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “My daughter! What has happened to my daughter? I recognized her voice.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not alarm yourself,” replied Lydia, with atrocious sarcasm. “Alba + broke the pane to give you a warning.” + </p> + <p> + “But, is she hurt?” asked the mother. + </p> + <p> + “Very slightly,” replied the implacable woman with the same accent of + irony, and she turned again toward the Contessina with a glance of such + rancor that, even in the state of confusion in which the latter was + plunged by that which she had surprised, that glance paralyzed her with + fear. She felt the same shudder which had possessed her dear friend Maud, + in that same studio, in the face of the sinister depths of that dark soul, + suddenly exposed. She had not time to precisely define her feelings, for + already her mother was beside her, pressing her in her arms—in those + very arms which Alba had just seen twined around the neck of a lover—while + that same mouth showered kisses upon him. The moral shock was so great + that the young girl fainted. She regained consciousness and almost at + once. She saw her mother as mad with anxiety as she had just seen her + trembling with joy and love. She again saw Lydia Maitland’s eyes fixed + upon them both with an expression too significant now. And, as she had had + the presence of mind to save that guilty mother, she found in her + tenderness the strength to smile at her, to lie to her, to blind her + forever as to the truth of that hideous scene which had just been enacted + in that lobby. + </p> + <p> + “I was frightened at the sight of my own blood,” said she, “and I believe + it is only a small cut.... See! I can move my hand without pain.” + </p> + <p> + When the doctor, hastily summoned, had confirmed that no particles of + glass had remained in the cuts, the Countess felt so reassured that her + gayety returned. Never had she been in a mood more charming than in the + carriage which took them to the Villa Steno. + </p> + <p> + To a person obliged by proof to condemn another without ceasing to love + her, there is no greater sorrow than to perceive the absolute + unconsciousness of that other person and her serenity in her fault. Poor + Alba, felt overwhelmed by a sadness greater, more depressing still, and + which became materially insupportable, when, toward half-past two, her + mother bade her farewell, although the fete at the English embassy did not + begin until five o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “I promised poor Hafner to go to see him to-day. I know he is bowed down + with grief. I would like to try to arrange all.... I will send back the + carriage if you wish to go out awhile. I have telephoned Lydia to expect + me at four o’clock.... She will take me.” + </p> + <p> + She had, on detailing the employment so natural of her afternoon, eyes too + brilliant, a smile too happy. She looked too youthful in her light + toilette. Her feet trembled with too nervous an impatience. How could Alba + not have felt that she was telling her an untruth? The undeceived child + had the intuition that the visit to Fanny’s father was only a pretext. It + was not the first time that the Countess employed it to free herself from + inconvenient surveillance, the act of sending back the carriage, which, in + Rome as in Paris, is always the probable sign of clandestine meetings with + women of their rank. It was not the first time that Alba was possessed by + suspicion on certain mysterious disappearances of her mother. That mother + did not mistrust that poor Alba—her Alba, the child so tenderly + loved in spite of all—was suffering at that very moment and on her + account the most terrible of temptations.... When the carriage had + disappeared the fixed gaze of the young girl was turned upon the pavement, + and then she felt arise in her a sudden, instinctive, almost irresistible + idea to end the moral suffering by which she was devoured. It was so + simple!... It was sufficient to end life. One movement which she could + make, one single movement—she could lean over the balustrade, + against which her arm rested, in a certain manner—so, a little more + forward, a little more—and that suffering would be terminated. Yes, + it would be so very simple. She saw herself lying upon the pavement, her + limbs broken, her head crushed, dead—dead—freed! She leaned + forward and was about to leap, when her eyes fell upon a person who was + walking below, the sight of whom suddenly aroused her from the folly, the + strange charm of which had just laid hold so powerfully upon her. She drew + back. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, and she, who was accustomed to + mystical enthusiasm, said aloud: + </p> + <p> + “My God! You send him to me! I am saved.” And she summoned the footman to + tell him that if M. Dorsenne asked for her, he should be shown into Madame + Steno’s small salon. “I am not at home to any one else,” she added. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed Julien, whom she had seen approach the house at the very + instant when she was only separated from the abyss by that last tremor of + animal repugnance, which is found even in suicide of the most ardent kind. + Do not madmen themselves choose to die in one manner rather than in + another? She paused several moments in order to collect herself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she at length, to herself, “it is the only solution. I will + find out if he loves me truly. And if he does not?” + </p> + <p> + She again looked toward the window, in order to assure herself that, in + case that conversation did not end as she desired, the tragical and simple + means remained at her service by which to free herself from that infamous + life which she surely could not bear. + </p> + <p> + Julien began the conversation in his tone of sentimental raillery, so + speedily to be transformed into one of drama! He knew very well, on + arriving at Villa Steno, that he was to have his last tete-a-tete with his + pretty and interesting little friend. For he had at length decided to go + away, and, to be more sure of not failing, he had engaged his + sleeping-berth for that night. He had jested so much with love that he + entered upon that conversation with a jest; when, having tried to take + Alba’s hand to press a kiss upon it, he saw that it was bandaged. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened to you, little Countess? Have my laurels or those of + Florent Chapron prevented you from sleeping, that you are here with the + classical wrist of a duellist?... Seriously, how have you hurt yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I leaned against a window, which broke and the pieces of glass cut my + fingers somewhat,” replied the young girl with a faint smile, adding: “It + is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What an imprudent child you are!” said Dorsenne in his tone of friendly + scolding. “Do you know that you might have severed an artery and have + caused a very serious, perhaps a fatal, hemorrhage?” + </p> + <p> + “That would not have been such a great misfortune,” replied Alba, shaking + her pretty head with an expression so bitter about her mouth that the + young man, too, ceased smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Do not speak in that tone,” said he, “or I shall think you did it + purposely.” + </p> + <p> + “Purposely?” repeated the young girl. “Purposely? Why should I have done + it purposely?” + </p> + <p> + And she blushed and laughed in the same nervous way she had laughed + fifteen minutes before, when she looked down into the street. Dorsenne + felt that she was suffering, and his heart contracted. The trouble against + which he had struggled for several days with all the energy of an + independent artist, and which for some time systematized his celibacy, + again oppressed him. He thought it time to put between “folly” and him the + irreparability of his categorical resolution. So he replied to his little + friend with his habitual gentleness, but in a tone of firmness, which + already announced his determination: + </p> + <p> + “I have again vexed you, Contessina, and you are looking at me with the + glance of our hours of dispute. You will later regret having been unkind + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + As he pronounced those enigmatical words, she saw that he had in his eyes + and in his smile something different and indefinable. It must have been + that she loved him still more than she herself believed as for a second + she forgot both her pain and her resolution, and she asked him, quickly: + </p> + <p> + “You have some trouble? You are suffering? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” replied Dorsenne. “But time is flying, the minutes are going + by, and not only the minutes. There is an old and charming. French ode, + which you do not know and which begins: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Le temps s’en va, le temps s’en va, Madame. + Las, le temps? Non. Mais nous nous en allons.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Which means, little Countess, in simple prose, that this is no doubt the + last conversation we shall have together this season, and that it would be + cruel to mar for me this last visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand you aright?” said Alba. She, too, knew too well Julien’s + way of speaking not to know that that mannerism, half-mocking, + half-sentimental, always served him to prepare phrases more grave, and + against the emotion of which her fear of appearing a dupe rose in advance. + She crossed her arms upon her breast, and after a pause she continued, in + a grave voice: “You are going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, and from his coat-pocket he partly drew his ticket. + “You see I have acted like the poltroons who cast themselves into the + water. My ticket is bought, and I shall no longer hold that little + discourse which I have held for months, that, ‘Sir executioner, one + moment.... Du Barry’.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going away?” repeated the young girl, who did not seem to have + heeded the jest by which Julien had concealed his own confusion at the + effect of his so abruptly announced departure. “I shall not see you any + more!... And if I ask you not to go yet? You have spoken to me of our + friendship.... If I pray you, if I beseech you, in the name of that + friendship, not to deprive me of it at this instant, when I have no one, + when I am so alone, so horribly alone, will you answer no? You have often + told me that you were my friend, my true friend? If it be true, you will + not go. I repeat, I am alone, and I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, little Countess,” replied Dorsenne, who began to be terrified by + the young girl’s sudden excitement, “it is not reasonable to agitate + yourself thus, because yesterday you had a very sad conversation with + Fanny Hafner! First, it is altogether impossible for me to defer my + departure. You force me to give you coarse, almost commercial reasons. But + my book is about to appear, and I must be there for the launching of the + sale, of which I have already told you. And then you are going away, too. + You will have all the diversions of the country, of your Venetian friends + and charming Lydia Maitland!” + </p> + <p> + “Do not mention that name,” interrupted Alba, whose face became + discomposed at the allusion to the sojourn at Piove. “You do not know how + you pain me, nor what that woman is, what a monster of cruelty and of + perfidy! Ask me no more. I shall tell you nothing. But,” the Contessina + that time clasping her hands, her poor, thin hands, which trembled with + the anguish of the words she dared to utter, “do you not comprehend that + if I speak to you as I do, it is because I have need of you in order to + live?” Then in a low voice, choked by emotion: “It is because I love you!” + All the modesty natural to a child of twenty mounted to her pale face in a + flood of purple, when she had uttered that avowal. “Yes, I love you!” she + repeated, in an accent as deep, but more firm. “It is not, however, so + common a thing to find real devotion, a being who only asks to serve you, + to be useful to you, to live in your shadow. And you will understand that + to have the right of giving you my life, to bear your name, to be your + wife, to follow you, I felt very vividly in your presence at the moment I + was about to lose you. You will pardon my lack of modesty for the first, + for the last time. I have suffered too much.” + </p> + <p> + She ceased. Never had the absolute purity of the charming creature, born + and bred in an atmosphere of corruption, and remaining in the same so + intact, so noble, so frank, flashed out as at that moment. All that virgin + and unhappy soul was in her eyes which implored Julien, on her lips which + trembled at having spoken thus, on her brow around which floated, like an + aureole, the fair hair stirred by the breeze which entered the open + window. She had found the means of daring that prodigious step, the + boldest a woman can permit herself, still more so a young girl, with so + chaste a simplicity that at that moment Dorsenne would not have dared to + touch even the hand of that child who confided herself to him so madly, so + loyally. + </p> + <p> + Dorsenne was undoubtedly greatly interested in her, with a curiosity, + without enthusiasm, and against which a reaction had already set in. That + touching speech, in which trembled a distress so tender and each word of + which later on made him weep with regret, produced upon him at that moment + an impression of fear rather than love or pity. When at length he broke + the cruel silence, the sound of his voice revealed to the unhappy girl the + uselessness of that supreme appeal addressed by her to life. + </p> + <p> + She had only kept, to exorcise the demon of suicide, her hope in the heart + of that man, and that heart, toward which she turned in so immoderate a + transport, drew back instead of responding. + </p> + <p> + “Calm yourself, I beseech you,” said he to her. “You can understand that I + am very much moved, very much surprised, at what I have heard! I did not + suspect it. My God! How troubled you are. And yet,” he continued with more + firmness, “I should despise myself were I to lie to you. You have been so + loyal toward me.... To marry you? Ah, it would be the most delightful + dream of happiness if that dream were not prevented by honesty. Poor + child,” and his voice sounded almost bitter, “you do not know me. You do + not know what a writer of my order is, and that to unite your destiny to + mine would be for you martyrdom more severe than your moral solitude of + to-day. You see, I came to your home with so much joy, because I was free, + because each time I could say to myself that I need not return again. Such + a confession is not romantic. But it is thus. If that relation became a + bond, an obligation, a fixed framework in which to move, a circle of + habits in which to imprison me, I should only have one thought—flight. + An engagement for my entire life? No, no, I could not bear it. There are + souls of passage as well as birds of passage, and I am one. You will + understand it tomorrow, now, and you will remember that I have spoken to + you as a man of honor, who would be miserable if he thought he had + augmented, involuntarily, the sorrows of your life when his only desire + was to assuage them. My God! What is to be done?” he cried, on seeing, as + he spoke, tears gush from the young girl’s eyes, which she did not wipe + away. + </p> + <p> + “Go away,” she replied, “leave me. I do not want you. I am grateful to you + for not having deceived me.” + </p> + <p> + “But your presence is too cruel. I am ashamed of having spoken to you, now + that I know you do not love me. I have been mad, do not punish me by + remaining longer. After the conversation we have just had, my honor will + not permit us to talk longer.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Julien, after another pause. He took his hat, which + he had placed upon a table at the beginning of that visit, so rapidly and + abruptly terminated by a confession of sentiments so strange. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Then, farewell.” She inclined her fair head without replying. + </p> + <p> + The door was closed. Alba Steno was again alone. Half an hour later, when + the footman entered to ask for orders relative to the carriage sent back + by the Countess, he found her standing motionless at the window from which + she had watched Dorsenne depart. There she had once more been seized by + the temptation of suicide. She had again felt with an irresistible force + the magnetic attraction of death. Life appeared to her once more as + something too vile, too useless, too insupportable to be borne. The + carriage was at her disposal. By way of the Portese gate and along the + Tiber, with the Countess’s horses, it would take an hour and a half to + reach the Lake di Porto. She had, too, this pretext, to avoid the + curiosity of the servants: one of the Roman noblewomen of her + acquaintance, Princess Torlonia, owned an isolated villa on the border of + that lake.... She ascended hastily to don her hat. And without writing a + word of farewell to any one, without even casting a glance at the objects + among which she had lived and suffered, she descended the staircase and + gave the coachman the name of the villa, adding “Drive quickly; I am late + now.” + </p> + <p> + The Lake di Porto is only, as its name indicates, the port of the ancient + Tiber. The road which leads from Transtevere runs along the river, which + rolls through a plain strewn with ruins and indented with barren hills, + its brackish water discolored from the sand and mud of the Apennines. + </p> + <p> + Here groups of eucalyptus, there groups of pine parasols above some ruined + walls, were all the vegetation which met Alba Steno’s eye. But the scene + accorded so well with the moral devastation she bore within her that the + barrenness around her in her last walk was pleasant to her. + </p> + <p> + The feeling that she was nearing eternal peace, final sleep in which she + should suffer no more, augmented when she alighted from the carriage, and, + having passed the garden of Villa Torlonia, she found herself facing the + small lake, so grandiose in its smallness by the wildness of its + surroundings, and motionless, surprised in even that supreme moment by the + magic of that hidden sight, she paused amid the reeds with their red tufts + to look at that pond which was to become her tomb, and she murmured: + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful it is!” + </p> + <p> + There was in the humid atmosphere which gradually penetrated her a charm + of mortal rest, to which she abandoned herself dreamily, almost with + physical voluptuousness, drinking into her being the feverish fumes of + that place—one of the most fatal at that season and at that hour of + all that dangerous coast—until she shuddered in her light summer + gown. Her shoulders contracted, her teeth chattered, and that feeling of + discomfort was to her as a signal for action. She took another allee of + rose-bushes in flower to reach a point on the bank barren of vegetation, + where was outlined the form of a boat. She soon detached it, and, managing + the heavy oars with her delicate hands, she advanced toward the middle of + the lake. + </p> + <p> + When she was in the spot which she thought the deepest and the most + suitable for her design, she ceased rowing. Then, by a delicate care, + which made her smile herself, so much did it betray instinctive and + childish order at such a solemn moment, she put her hat, her umbrella and + her gloves on one of the transversal boards of the boat. She had made + effort to move the heavy oars, so that she was perspiring. A second + shudder seized her as she was arranging the trifling objects, so keen, so + chilly, so that time that she paused. She lay there motionless, her eyes + fixed upon the water, whose undulations lapped the boat. At the last + moment she felt reenter her heart, not love of life, but love for her + mother. All the details of the events which would follow her suicide were + presented to her mind. + </p> + <p> + She saw herself plunging into the deep water which would close over her + head. Her suffering would be ended, but Madame Steno? She saw the coachman + growing uneasy over her absence, ringing at the door of Villa Torlonia, + the servants in search. The loosened boat would relate enough. Would the + Countess know that she had killed herself? Would she know the cause of + that desperate end? The terrible face of Lydia Maitland appeared to the + young girl. She comprehended that the woman hated her enemy too much not + to enlighten her with regard to the circumstances which had preceded that + suicide. The cry so simple and of a significance so terrible: “You did it + purposely!” returned to Alba’s memory. She saw her mother learning that + her daughter had seen all. She had loved her so much, that mother, she + loved her so dearly still! + </p> + <p> + Then, as a third violent chill shook her from head to foot, Alba began to + think of another mode, and one as sure, of death without any one in the + world being able to suspect that it was voluntary. She recalled the fact + that she was in one of the most dreaded corners of the Roman Campagna; + that she had known persons carried off in a few days by the pernicious + fevers contracted in similar places, at that hour and in that season, + notably one of her friends, one of the Bonapartes living in Rome, who came + thither to hunt when overheated. If she were to try to catch that same + disease?... And she took up the oars. When she felt her brow moist with + the second effort, she opened her bodice and her chemise, she exposed her + neck, her breast, her throat, and she lay down in the boat, allowing the + damp air to envelop, to caress, to chill her, inviting the entrance into + her blood of the fatal germs. How long did she remain thus, + half-unconscious, in the atmosphere more and more laden with miasma in + proportion as the sun sank? A cry made her rise and again take up the + oars. It was the coachman, who, not seeing her return, had descended from + the box and was hailing the boat at all hazards. When she stepped upon the + bank and when he saw her so pale, the man, who had been in the Countess’s + service for years, could not help saying to her, with the familiarity of + an Italian servant: + </p> + <p> + “You have taken cold, Mademoiselle, and this place is so dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” she replied, “I have had a chill. It will be nothing. Let us + return quickly. Above all, do not say that I was in the boat. You will + cause me to be scolded.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. EPILOGUE + </h2> + <p> + “And it was directly after that conversation that the poor child left for + the lake, where she caught the pernicious fever?” asked Montfanon. + </p> + <p> + “Directly,” replied Dorsenne, “and what troubles me the most is that I can + not doubt but that she went there purposely. I was so troubled by our + conversation that I had not the strength to leave Rome the same evening, + as I told her I should. After much hesitation—you understand why, + now that I have told you all—I returned to the Villa Steno at six + o’clock. To speak to her, but of what? Did I know? It was madness. For her + avowal only allowed of two replies, either that which I made her or an + offer of marriage. Ah, I did not reason so much. I was afraid.... Of + what?... I do not know. I reached the villa, where I found the Countess, + gay and radiant, as was her custom, and tete-a-tete with her American. + ‘Only think, there is my child,’ said she to me, ‘who has refused to go to + the English embassy, where she would enjoy herself, and who has gone out + for a drive alone.... Will you await her?’” + </p> + <p> + “At length she began to grow uneasy, and I, seeing that no one returned, + took my leave, my heart oppressed by presentiments.... Alba’s carriage + stopped at the door just as I was going out. She was pale, of a greenish + pallor, which caused me to say on approaching her: ‘Whence have you come?’ + as if I had the right. Her lips, already discolored, trembled as they + replied. When I learned where she had spent that hour of sunset, and near + what lake, the most deadly in the neighborhood, I said to her: ‘What + imprudence!’ I shall all my life see the glance she gave me at the moment, + as she replied: ‘Say, rather, how wise, and pray that I may have taken the + fever and that I die of it.’ You know the rest, and how her wish has been + realized. She indeed contracted the fever, and so severely that she died + in less than six days. I have no doubt, since her last words, that it was + a suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “And the mother,” asked Montfanon, “did she not comprehend finally?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely nothing,” replied Dorsenne. “It is inconceivable, but it is + thus. Ah! she is truly the worthy friend of that knave Hafner, whom his + daughter’s broken engagement has not grieved, in spite of his + discomfiture. I forgot to tell you that he had just sold Palais Castagna + to a joint-stock company to convert it into a hotel. I laugh,” he + continued with singular acrimony, “in order not to weep, for I am arriving + at the most heartrending part. Do you know where I saw poor Alba Steno’s + face for the last time? It was three days ago, the day after her death, at + this hour. I called to inquire for the Countess! She was receiving! ‘Do + you wish to bid her adieu?’ she asked me. ‘Good Lincoln is just molding + her face for me.’ And I entered the chamber of death. Her eyes were + closed, her cheeks were sunken, her pretty nose was pinched, and upon her + brow and in the corners of her mouth was a mixture of bitterness and of + repose which I can not describe to you. I thought: ‘If you had liked, she + would be alive, she would smile, she would love you!’ The American was + beside the bed, while Florent Chapron, always faithful, was preparing the + oil to put upon the face of the corpse, and sinister Lydia Maitland was + watching the scene with eyes which made me shudder, reminding me of what I + had divined at the time of my last conversation with Alba. If she does not + undertake to play the part of a Nemesis and to tell all to the Countess, I + am mistaken in faces! For the moment she was silent, and guess the only + words the mother uttered when her lover, he on whose account her daughter + had suffered so much, approached their common victim: ‘Above all, do not + injure her lovely lashes!’ What horrible irony, was it not? Horrible!” + </p> + <p> + The young man sank upon a bench as he uttered that cry of distress and of + remorse, which Montfanon mechanically repeated, as if startled by the + tragical confidence he had just received. + </p> + <p> + Montfanon shook his gray head several times as if deliberating; then + forced Dorsenne to rise, chiding him thus: + </p> + <p> + “Come, Julien, we can not remain here all the afternoon dreaming and + sighing like young women! The child is dead. We can not restore her to + life, you in despairing, I in deploring. We should do better to look in + the face our responsibility in that sinister adventure, to repent of it + and to expiate it.” + </p> + <p> + “Our responsibility?” interrogated Julien. “I see mine, although I can + truly not see yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Yours and mine,” replied Montfanon. “I am no sophist, and I am not in the + habit of shifting my conscience. Yes or no,” he insisted, with a return of + his usual excitement, “did I leave the catacombs to arrange that + unfortunate duel? Yes or no, did I yield to the paroxysm of choler which + possessed me on hearing of the engagement of Ardea and on finding that I + was in the presence of that equivocal Hafner? Yes or no, did that duel + help to enlighten Madame Gorka as to her husband’s doings, and, in + consequence, Mademoiselle Steno as to her mother’s? Did you not relate to + me the progress of her anguish since that scandal, there just now?... And + if I have been startled, as I have been, by the news of that suicide, know + it has been for this reason especially, because a voice has said to me: ‘A + few of the tears of that dead girl are laid to your account.”’ + </p> + <p> + “But, my poor friend,” interrupted Dorsenne, “whence such reasoning? + According to that, we could not live any more. There enters into our + lives, by indirect means, a collection of actions which in no way concerns + us, and in admitting that we have a debt of responsibility to pay, that + debt commences and ends in that which we have wished directly, sincerely, + clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be very convenient,” replied the Marquis, with still more + vivacity, “but the proof that it is not true is that you yourself are + filled with remorse at not having saved the soul so weak of that + defenseless child. Ah, I do not mince the truth to myself, and I shall not + do so to you. You remember the morning when you were so gay, and when you + gave me the theory of your cosmopolitanism? It amused you, as a perfect + dilettante, so you said, to assist in one of those dramas of race which + bring into play the personages from all points of the earth and of + history, and you then traced to me a programme very true, my faith, and + which events have almost brought about. Madame Steno has indeed conducted + herself toward her two lovers as a Venetian of the time of Aretin; + Chapron, with all the blind devotion of a descendant of an oppressed race; + his sister with the villainous ferocity of a rebel who at length shakes + off the yoke, since you think she wrote those anonymous letters. Hafner + and Ardea have laid bare two detestable souls, the one of an infamous + usurer, half German, half Dutch; the other of a degraded nobleman, in whom + is revived some ancient ‘condottiere’. Gorka has been brave and mad, like + entire Poland; his wife implacable and loyal, like all of England. + Maitland continues to be positive, insensible, and wilful in the midst of + it all, as all America. And poor Alba ended as did her father. I do not + speak to you of Baron Hafner’s daughter,” and he raised his hat. Then, in + an altered voice: + </p> + <p> + “She is a saint, in whom I was deceived. But she has Jewish blood in her + veins, blood which was that of the people of God. I should have remembered + it and the beautiful saying of the Middle Ages: ‘The Jewish women shall be + saved because they have wept for our Lord in secret.’.... You outlined for + me in advance the scene of the drama in which we have been mixed up.... + And do you remember what I said: ‘Is there not among them a soul which you + might aid in doing better?’ You laughed in my face at that moment. You + would have treated me, had you been less polite, as a Philistine and a + cabotin. You wished to be only a spectator, the gentleman in the balcony + who wipes the glasses of his lorgnette in order to lose none of the + comedy. Well, you could not do so. That role is not permitted a man. He + must act, and he acts always, even when he thinks he is looking on, even + when he washes his hands as Pontius Pilate, that dilettante, too, who + uttered the words of your masters and of yourself. What is truth? Truth is + that there is always and everywhere a duty to fulfil. Mine was to prevent + that criminal encounter. Yours was not to pay attention to that young girl + if you did not love her, and if you loved her, to marry her and to take + her from her abominable surroundings. We have both failed, and at what a + price!” + </p> + <p> + “You are very severe,” said the young man; “but if you were right would + not Alba be dead? Of what use is it for me to know what I should have done + when it is too late?” + </p> + <p> + “First, never to do so again,” said the Marquis; “then to judge yourself + and your life.” + </p> + <p> + “There is truth in what you say,” replied Dorsenne, “but you are mistaken + if you think that the most intellectual men of our age have not suffered, + too, from that abuse of thought. What is to be done? Ah, it is the disease + of a century too cultivated, and there is no cure.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one,” interrupted Montfanon, “which you do not wish to see.... + You will not deny that Balzac was the boldest of our modern writers. Is it + necessary for me, an ignorant man, to recite to you the phrase which + governs his work: ‘Thought, principle of evil and of good can only be + prepared, subdued, directed by religion.’ See?” he continued, suddenly + taking his companion by the arm and forcing him to look into a transversal + allee through the copse, “there he is, the doctor who holds the remedy for + that malady of the soul as for all the others. Do not show yourself. They + will have forgotten our presence. But, look, look!....Ah, what a meeting!” + </p> + <p> + The personage who appeared suddenly in that melancholy, deserted garden, + and in a manner almost supernatural, so much did his presence form a + living commentary to the discourse of the impassioned nobleman, was no + other than the Holy Father himself, on the point of entering his carriage + for his usual drive. Dorsenne, who only knew Leo XIII from his portraits, + saw an old man, bent, bowed, whose white cassock gleamed beneath the red + mantle, and who leaned on one side upon a prelate of his court, on the + other upon one of his officers. In drawing back, as Montfanon had advised, + in order not to bring a reprimand upon the keepers, he could study at his + leisure the delicate face of the Sovereign Pontiff, who paused at a bed of + roses to converse familiarly with a kneeling gardener. He saw the + infinitely indulgent smile of that spirituelle mouth. He saw the light of + those eyes which seemed to justify by their brightness the ‘lumen in + coelo’ applied to the successor of Pie IX by a celebrated prophecy. He saw + the venerable hand, that white, transparent hand, which was raised to give + the solemn benediction with so much majesty, turn toward a fine yellow + rose, and the fingers bend the flower without plucking it, as if not to + harm the frail creation of God. The old Pope for a second inhaled its + perfume and then resumed his walk toward the carriage, vaguely to be seen + between the trunks of the green oaks. The black horses set off at a trot, + and Dorsenne, turning again toward Montfanon, perceived large tears upon + the lashes of the former zouave, who, forgetting the rest of their + conversation, said, with a sigh: “And that is the only pleasure allowed + him, who is, however, the successor of the first apostle, to inhale his + flowers and drive in a carriage as rapidly as his horses can go! They have + procured four paltry kilometers of road at the foot of the terrace where + we were half an hour since. And he goes on, he goes on, thus deluding + himself with regard to the vast space which is forbidden him. I have seen + many tragical sights in my life. I have been to the war, and I have spent + one entire night wounded on a battlefield covered with snow, among the + dead, grazed by the wheels of the artillery of the conquerors, who defiled + singing. Nothing has moved me like that drive of the old man, who has + never uttered a complaint and who has for himself only that acre of land + in which to move freely. But these are grand words which the holy man + wrote one day at the foot of his portrait for a missionary. The words + explain his life: ‘Debitricem martyrii fidem’—Faith is bound to + martyrdom.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Debitricem martyrii fidem’,” repeated Dorsenne, “that is beautiful, + indeed. And,” he added, in a low voice, “you just now abused very rudely + the dilettantes and the sceptic. But do you think there would be one of + them who would refuse martyrdom if he could have at the same time faith?” + </p> + <p> + Never had Montfanon heard the young man utter a similar phrase and in such + an accent. The image returned to him, by way of contrast, of Dorsenne, + alert and foppish, the dandy of literature, so gayly a scoffer and a + sophist, to whom antique and venerable Rome was only a city of pleasure, a + cosmopolis more paradoxical than Florence, Nice, Biarritz, St. Moritz, + than such and such other cities of international winter and summer. He + felt that for the first time that soul was strained to its depths, the + tragical death of poor Alba had become in the mind of the writer the point + of remorse around which revolved the moral life of the superior and + incomplete being, exiled from simple humanity by the most invincible pride + of mind. Montfanon comprehended that every additional word would pain the + wounded heart. He was afraid of having already lectured Dorsenne too + severely. He took within his arm the arm of the young man, and he pressed + it silently, putting into that manly caress all the warm and discreet pity + of an elder brother. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + Conditions of blindness so voluntary that they become complicity + Despotism natural to puissant personalities + Egyptian tobacco, mixed with opium and saltpetre + Follow their thoughts instead of heeding objects + Has as much sense as the handle of a basket + Have never known in the morning what I would do in the evening + I no longer love you + Imagine what it would be never to have been born + Mediocre sensibility + Melancholy problem of the birth and death of love + Mobile and complaisant conscience had already forgiven himself + No flies enter a closed mouth + Not an excuse, but an explanation of your conduct + One of those trustful men who did not judge when they loved + Only one thing infamous in love, and that is a falsehood + Pitiful checker-board of life + Scarcely a shade of gentle condescension + Sufficed him to conceive the plan of a reparation + That suffering which curses but does not pardon + That you can aid them in leading better lives? + The forests have taught man liberty + There is an intelligent man, who never questions his ideas + There is always and everywhere a duty to fulfil + Thinking it better not to lie on minor points + Too prudent to risk or gain much + Walked at the rapid pace characteristic of monomaniacs + Words are nothing; it is the tone in which they are uttered +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cosmopolis, Complete, by Paul Bourget + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COSMOPOLIS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 3967-h.htm or 3967-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/6/3967/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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