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diff --git a/old/thrtn10.txt b/old/thrtn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf97334 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thrtn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14405 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Thirteen, by Honore de Balzac + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Thirteen + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7416] +[This file was first posted on April 26, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE THIRTEEN *** + + + + +Etext prepared by Dagny <dagnypg@yahoo.com>, Bonnie Sala, and John Bickers +<jbickers@ihug.co.nz> + + + +THE THIRTEEN + +By Honore de Balzac + + + + + THE THIRTEEN + + BY + + HONORE DE BALZAC + + + + INTRODUCTION + +The /Histoire des Treize/ consists--or rather is built up--of three +stories: /Ferragus/ or the /Rue Soly/, /La Duchesse de Langeais/ or +/Ne touchez-paz a la hache/, and /La Fille aux Yeux d'Or/. + + + +To tell the truth, there is more power than taste throughout the +/Histoire des Treize/, and perhaps not very much less unreality than +power. Balzac is very much better than Eugene Sue, though Eugene Sue +also is better than it is the fashion to think him just now. But he is +here, to a certain extent competing with Sue on the latter's own +ground. The notion of the "Devorants"--of a secret society of men +devoted to each other's interests, entirely free from any moral or +legal scruple, possessed of considerable means in wealth, ability, and +position, all working together, by fair means or foul, for good ends +or bad--is, no doubt, rather seducing to the imagination at all times; +and it so happened that it was particularly seducing to the +imagination of that time. And its example has been powerful since; it +gave us Mr. Stevenson's /New Arabian Nights/ only, as it were, the +other day. + +But there is something a little schoolboyish in it; and I do not know +that Balzac has succeeded entirely in eliminating this something. The +pathos of the death, under persecution, of the innocent Clemence does +not entirely make up for the unreasonableness of the whole situation. +Nobody can say that the abominable misconduct of Maulincour--who is a +hopeless "cad"--is too much punished, though an Englishman may think +that Dr. Johnson's receipt of three or four footmen with cudgels, +applied repeatedly and unsparingly, would have been better than +elaborately prepared accidents and duels, which were too honorable for +a Peeping Tom of this kind; and poisonings, which reduced the avengers +to the level of their victim. But the imbroglio is of itself stupid; +these fathers who cannot be made known to husbands are mere stage +properties, and should never be fetched out of the theatrical lumber- +room by literature. + +/La Duchesse de Langeais/ is, I think, a better story, with more +romantic attraction, free from the objections just made to /Ferragus/, +and furnished with a powerful, if slightly theatrical catastrophe. It +is as good as anything that its author has done of the kind, subject +to those general considerations of probability and otherwise which +have been already hinted at. For those who are not troubled by any +such critical reflections, both, no doubt, will be highly +satisfactory. + +The third of the series, /La Fille aux Yeux d'Or/, in some respects +one of Balzac's most brilliant effects, has been looked at askance by +many of his English readers. At one time he had the audacity to think +of calling it /La Femme aux Yeux Rouges/. To those who consider the +story morbid or, one may say, /bizarre/, one word of justification, +hardly of apology, may be offered. It was in the scheme of the +/Comedie Humaine/ to survey social life in its entirety by a minute +analysis of its most diverse constituents. It included all the +pursuits and passions, was large and patient, and unafraid. And the +patience, the curiosity, of the artist which made Cesar Birotteau and +his bankrupt ledgers matters of high import to us, which did not +shrink from creating a Vautrin and a Lucien de Rubempre, would have +been incomplete had it stopped short of a Marquise de San-Real, of a +Paquita Valdes. And in the great mass of the /Comedie Humaine/, with +its largeness and reality of life, as in life itself; the figure of +Paquita justifies its presence. + +Considering the /Histoire des Treize/ as a whole, it is of engrossing +interest. And I must confess I should not think much of any boy who, +beginning Balzac with this series, failed to go rather mad over it. I +know there was a time when I used to like it best of all, and thought +not merely /Eugenie Grandet/, but /Le Pere Goriot/ (though not the +/Peau de Chagrin/), dull in comparison. Some attention, however, must +be paid to two remarkable characters, on whom it is quite clear that +Balzac expended a great deal of pains, and one of whom he seems to +have "caressed," as the French say, with a curious admixture of +dislike and admiration. + +The first, Bourignard or Ferragus, is, of course, another, though a +somewhat minor example--Collin or Vautrin being the chief--of that +strange tendency to take intense interest in criminals, which seems to +be a pretty constant eccentricity of many human minds, and which laid +an extraordinary grasp on the great French writers of Balzac's time. I +must confess, though it may sink me very low in some eyes, that I have +never been able to fully appreciate the attractions of crime and +criminals, fictitious or real. Certain pleasant and profitable things, +no doubt, retain their pleasure and their profit, to some extent, when +they are done in the manner which is technically called criminal; but +they seem to me to acquire no additional interest by being so. As the +criminal of fact is, in the vast majority of cases, an exceedingly +commonplace and dull person, the criminal of fiction seems to me only, +or usually, to escape these curses by being absolutely improbable and +unreal. But I know this is a terrible heresy. + +Henri de Marsay is a much more ambitious and a much more interesting +figure. In him are combined the attractions of criminality, beauty, +brains, success, and, last of all, dandyism. It is a well-known and +delightful fact that the most Anglophobe Frenchmen--and Balzac might +fairly be classed among them--have always regarded the English dandy +with half-jealous, half-awful admiration. Indeed, our novelist, it +will be seen, found it necessary to give Marsay English blood. But +there is a tradition that this young Don Juan--not such a good fellow +as Byron's, nor such a /grand seigneur/ as Moliere's--was partly +intended to represent Charles de Remusat, who is best known to this +generation by very sober and serious philosophical works, and by his +part in his mother's correspondence. I do not know that there ever +were any imputation on M. de Remusat's morals; but in memoirs of the +time, he is, I think, accused of a certain selfishness and /hauteur/, +and he certainly made his way, partly by journalism, partly by +society, to power very much as Marsay did. But Marsay would certainly +not have written /Abelard/ and the rest, or have returned to +Ministerial rank in our own time. Marsay, in fact, more fortunate than +Rubempre, and of a higher stamp and flight than Rastignac, makes with +them Balzac's trinity of sketches of the kind of personage whose part, +in his day and since, every young Frenchman has aspired to play, and +some have played. It cannot be said that "a moral man is Marsay"; it +cannot be said that he has the element of good-nature which redeems +Rastignac. But he bears a blame and a burden for which we Britons are +responsible in part--the Byronic ideal of the guilty hero coming to +cross and blacken the old French model of unscrupulous good humor. It +is not a very pretty mixture or a very worthy ideal; but I am not so +sure that it is not still a pretty common one. + +The association of the three stories forming the /Histoire des Treize/ +is, in book form, original, inasmuch as they filled three out of the +four volumes of /Etudes des Moeurs/ published in 1834-35, and +themselves forming part of the first collection of /Scenes de la Vie +Parisienne/. But /Ferragus/ had appeared in parts (with titles to +each) in the /Revue de Paris/ for March and April 1833, and part of +/La Duchesse de Langeais/ in the /Echo de la Jeune France/ almost +contemporaneously. There are divisions in this also. /Ferragus/ and +/La Duchesse/ also appeared without /La Fille aux Yeux d'Or/ in 1839, +published in one volume by Charpentier, before their absorption at the +usual time in the /Comedie/. + + George Saintsbury + + + + + + THE THIRTEEN + + + + AUTHOR'S PREFACE + +In the Paris of the Empire there were found Thirteen men equally +impressed with the same idea, equally endowed with energy enough to +keep them true to it, while among themselves they were loyal enough to +keep faith even when their interests seemed to clash. They were strong +enough to set themselves above all laws; bold enough to shrink from no +enterprise; and lucky enough to succeed in nearly everything that they +undertook. So profoundly politic were they, that they could dissemble +the tie which bound them together. They ran the greatest risks, and +kept their failures to themselves. Fear never entered into their +calculations; not one of them had trembled before princes, before the +executioner's axe, before innocence. They had taken each other as they +were, regardless of social prejudices. Criminals they doubtless were, +yet none the less were they all remarkable for some one of the virtues +which go to the making of great men, and their numbers were filled up +only from among picked recruits. Finally, that nothing should be +lacking to complete the dark, mysterious romance of their history, +nobody to this day knows who they were. The Thirteen once realized all +the wildest ideas conjured up by tales of the occult powers of a +Manfred, a Faust, or a Melmoth; and to-day the band is broken up or, +at any rate, dispersed. Its members have quietly returned beneath the +yoke of the Civil Code; much as Morgan, the Achilles of piracy, gave +up buccaneering to be a peaceable planter; and, untroubled by qualms +of conscience, sat himself down by the fireside to dispose of blood- +stained booty acquired by the red light of blazing towns. + +After Napoleon's death, the band was dissolved by a chance event which +the author is bound for the present to pass over in silence, and its +mysterious existence, as curious, it may be, as the darkest novel by +Mrs. Radcliffe, came to an end. + +It was only lately that the present writer, detecting, as he fancied, +a faint desire for celebrity in one of the anonymous heroes to whom +the whole band once owed an occult allegiance, received the somewhat +singular permission to make public certain of the adventures which +befell that band, provided that, while telling the story in his own +fashion, he observed certain limits. + +The aforesaid leader was still an apparently young man with fair hair +and blue eyes, and a soft, thin voice which might seem to indicate a +feminine temperament. His face was pale, his ways mysterious. He +chatted pleasantly, and told me that he was only just turned of forty. +He might have belonged to any one of the upper classes. The name which +he gave was probably assumed, and no one answering to his description +was known in society. Who is he, do you ask? No one knows. + +Perhaps when he made his extraordinary disclosures to the present +writer, he wished to see them in some sort reproduced; to enjoy the +effect of the sensation on the multitude; to feel as Macpherson might +have felt when the name of Ossian, his creation, passed into all +languages. And, in truth, that Scottish advocate knew one of the +keenest, or, at any rate, one of the rarest sensations in human +experience. What was this but the incognito of genius? To write an +/Itineraire de Paris a Jerusalem/ is to take one's share in the glory +of a century, but to give a Homer to one's country--this surely is a +usurpation of the rights of God. + +The writer is too well acquainted with the laws of narration to be +unaware of the nature of the pledge given by this brief preface; but, +at the same time, he knows enough of the history of the Thirteen to +feel confident that he shall not disappoint any expectations raised by +the programme. Tragedies dripping with gore, comedies piled up with +horrors, tales of heads taken off in secret have been confided to him. +If any reader has not had enough of the ghastly tales served up to the +public for some time past, he has only to express his wish; the author +is in a position to reveal cold-blooded atrocities and family secrets +of a gloomy and astonishing nature. But in preference he has chosen +those pleasanter stories in which stormy passions are succeeded by +purer scenes, where the beauty and goodness of woman shine out the +brighter for the darkness. And, to the honor of the Thirteen, such +episodes as these are not wanting. Some day perhaps it may be thought +worth while to give their whole history to the world; in which case it +might form a pendant to the history of the buccaneers--that race apart +so curiously energetic, so attractive in spite of their crimes. + +When a writer has a true story to tell, he should scorn to turn it +into a sort of puzzle toy, after the manner of those novelists who +take their reader for a walk through one cavern after another to show +him a dried-up corpse at the end of the fourth volume, and inform him, +by way of conclusion, that he has been frightened all along by a door +hidden somewhere or other behind some tapestry; or a dead body, left +by inadvertence, under the floor. So the present chronicler, in spite +of his objection to prefaces, felt bound to introduce his fragment by +a few remarks. + +/Ferragus/, the first episode, is connected by invisible links with +the history of the Thirteen, for the power which they acquired in a +natural manner provides the apparently supernatural machinery. + +Again, although a certain literary coquetry may be permissible to +retailers of the marvelous, the sober chronicler is bound to forego +such advantage as he may reap from an odd-sounding name, on which many +ephemeral successes are founded in these days. Wherefore the present +writer gives the following succinct statement of the reasons which +induced him to adopt the unlikely sounding title and sub-title. + +In accordance with old-established custom, /Ferragus/ is a name taken +by the head of a guild of /Devorants/, /id est Devoirants/ or +journeymen. Every chief on the day of his election chooses a pseudonym +and continues a dynasty of /Devorants/ precisely as a pope changes his +name on his accession to the triple tiara; and as the Church has its +Clement XIV., Gregory XII., Julius II., or Alexander VI., so the +workmen have their Trempe-la-Soupe IX., Ferragus XXII., Tutanus XIII., +or Masche-Fer IV. Who are the /Devorants/, do you ask? + +The /Devorants/ are one among many tribes of /compagnons/ whose origin +can be traced to a great mystical association formed among the workmen +of Christendom for the rebuilding of the Temple at Jerusalem. +/Compagnonnage/ is still a popular institution in France. Its +traditions still exert a power over little enlightened minds, over men +so uneducated that they have not learned to break their oaths; and the +various organizations might be turned to formidable account even yet +if any rough-hewn man of genius arose to make use of them, for his +instruments would be, for the most part, almost blind. + +Wherever journeymen travel, they find a hostel for /compagnons/ which +has been in existence in the town from time immemorial. The /obade/, +as they call it, is a kind of lodge with a "Mother" in charge, an old, +half-gypsy wife who has nothing to lose. She hears all that goes on in +the countryside; and, either from fear or from long habit, is devoted +to the interests of the tribe boarded and lodged by her. And as a +result, this shifting population, subject as it is to an unalterable +law of custom, has eyes in every place, and will carry out an order +anywhere without asking questions; for the oldest journeyman is still +at an age when a man has some beliefs left. What is more, the whole +fraternity professes doctrines which, if unfolded never so little, are +both true enough and mysterious enough to electrify all the adepts +with patriotism; and the /compagnons/ are so attached to their rules, +that there have been bloody battles between different fraternities on +a question of principle. Fortunately, however, for peace and public +order; if a /Devorant/ is ambitious, he takes to building houses, +makes a fortune, and leaves the guild. + +A great many curious things might be told of their rivals, the +/Compagnons du Devior/, of all the different sects of workmen, their +manners and customs and brotherhoods, and of the resemblances between +them and the Freemasons; but there, these particulars would be out of +place. The author will merely add, that before the Revolution a +Trempe-la-Soupe had been known in the King's service, which is to say, +that he had the tenure of a place in His Majesty's galleys for one +hundred and one years; but even thence he ruled his guild, and was +religiously consulted on all matters, and if he escaped from the hulks +he met with help, succor, and respect wherever he went. To have a +chief in the hulks is one of those misfortunes for which Providence is +responsible; but a faithful lodge of /devorants/ is bound, as before, +to obey a power created by and set above themselves. Their lawful +sovereign is in exile for the time being, but none the less is he +their king. And now any romantic mystery hanging about the words +/Ferragus/ and the /devorants/ is completely dispelled. + +As for the Thirteen, the author feels that, on the strength of the +details of this almost fantastic story, he can afford to give away yet +another prerogative, though it is one of the greatest on record, and +would possibly fetch a high price if brought into a literary auction +mart; for the owner might inflict as many volumes on the public as La +Contemporaine.[*] + +[*] A long series of so-called Memoirs, which appeared about 1830. + +The Thirteen were all of them men tempered like Byron's friend +Trelawney, the original (so it is said) of /The Corsair/. All of them +were fatalists, men of spirit and poetic temperament; all of them were +tired of the commonplace life which they led; all felt attracted +towards Asiatic pleasures by all the vehement strength of newly +awakened and long dormant forces. One of these, chancing to take up +/Venice Preserved/ for the second time, admired the sublime friendship +between Pierre and Jaffir, and fell to musing on the virtues of +outlaws, the loyalty of the hulks, the honor of thieves, and the +immense power that a few men can wield if they bring their whole minds +to bear upon the carrying out of a single will. It struck him that the +individual man rose higher than men. Then he began to think that if a +few picked men should band themselves together; and if, to natural +wit, and education, and money, they could join a fanaticism hot enough +to fuse, as it were, all those separate forces into a single one, then +the whole world would be at their feet. From that time forth, with a +tremendous power of concentration, they could wield an occult power +against which the organization of society would be helpless; a power +which would push obstacles aside and defeat the will of others; and +the diabolical power of all would be at the service of each. A hostile +world apart within the world, admitting none of the ideas, recognizing +none of the laws of the world; submitting only to the sense of +necessity, obedient only from devotion; acting all as one man in the +interests of the comrade who should claim the aid of the rest; a band +of buccaneers with carriages and yellow kid gloves; a close +confederacy of men of extraordinary power, of amused and cool +spectators of an artificial and petty world which they cursed with +smiling lips; conscious as they were that they could make all things +bend to their caprice, weave ingenious schemes of revenge, and live +with the life in thirteen hearts, to say nothing of the unfailing +pleasure of facing the world of men with a hidden misanthropy, a sense +that they were armed against their kind, and could retire into +themselves with one idea which the most remarkable men had not,--all +this constituted a religion of pleasure and egoism which made fanatics +of the Thirteen. The history of the Society of Jesus was repeated for +the Devil's benefit. It was hideous and sublime. + +The pact was made; and it lasted, precisely because it seemed +impossible. And so it came to pass that in Paris there was a +fraternity of thirteen men, each one bound, body and soul, to the +rest, and all of them strangers to each other in the sight of the +world. But evening found them gathered together like conspirators, and +then they had no thoughts apart; riches, like the wealth of the Old +Man of the Mountain, they possessed in common; they had their feet in +every salon, their hands in every strong box, their elbows in the +streets, their heads upon all pillows, they did not scruple to help +themselves at their pleasure. No chief commanded them, nobody was +strong enough. The liveliest passion, the most urgent need took +precedence--that was all. They were thirteen unknown kings; unknown, +but with all the power and more than the power of kings; for they were +both judges and executioners, they had taken wings that they might +traverse the heights and depths of society, scorning to take any place +in it, since all was theirs. If the author learns the reason of their +abdication, he will communicate it. + +And now the author is free to give those episodes in the History of +the Thirteen which, by reason of the Parisian flavor of the details or +the strangeness of the contrasts, possessed a peculiar attraction for +him. + + Paris + + + + + + THE THIRTEEN + + + + I. + + + + FERRAGUS, + CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS + + By HONORE DE BALZAC + + + Translated By + Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + DEDICATION + + To Hector Berlioz. + + + + CHAPTER I + + MADAME JULES + +Certain streets in Paris are as degraded as a man covered with infamy; +also, there are noble streets, streets simply respectable, young +streets on the morality of which the public has not yet formed an +opinion; also cut-throat streets, streets older than the age of the +oldest dowagers, estimable streets, streets always clean, streets +always dirty, working, laboring, and mercantile streets. In short, the +streets of Paris have every human quality, and impress us, by what we +must call their physiognomy, with certain ideas against which we are +defenceless. There are, for instance, streets of a bad neighborhood in +which you could not be induced to live, and streets where you would +willingly take up your abode. Some streets, like the rue Montmartre, +have a charming head, and end in a fish's tail. The rue de la Paix is +a wide street, a fine street, yet it wakens none of those gracefully +noble thoughts which come to an impressible mind in the middle of the +rue Royale, and it certainly lacks the majesty which reigns in the +Place Vendome. + +If you walk the streets of the Ile Saint-Louis, do not seek the reason +of the nervous sadness that lays hold upon you save in the solitude of +the spot, the gloomy look of the houses, and the great deserted +mansions. This island, the ghost of /fermiers-generaux/, is the Venice +of Paris. The Place de la Bourse is voluble, busy, degraded; it is +never fine except by moonlight at two in the morning. By day it is +Paris epitomized; by night it is a dream of Greece. The rue +Traversiere-Saint-Honore--is not that a villainous street? Look at the +wretched little houses with two windows on a floor, where vice, crime, +and misery abound. The narrow streets exposed to the north, where the +sun never comes more than three or four times a year, are the +cut-throat streets which murder with impunity; the authorities of the +present day do not meddle with them; but in former times the +Parliament might perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police and +reprimanded him for the state of things; and it would, at least, have +issued some decree against such streets, as it once did against the +wigs of the Chapter of Beauvais. And yet Monsieur Benoiston de +Chateauneuf has proved that the mortality of these streets is double +that of others! To sum up such theories by a single example: is not +the rue Fromentin both murderous and profligate! + +These observations, incomprehensible out of Paris, will doubtless be +understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure, who know, +while rambling about Paris, how to harvest the mass of floating +interests which may be gathered at all hours within her walls; to them +Paris is the most delightful and varied of monsters: here, a pretty +woman; farther on, a haggard pauper; here, new as the coinage of a new +reign; there, in this corner, elegant as a fashionable woman. A +monster, moreover, complete! Its garrets, as it were, a head full of +knowledge and genius; its first storeys stomachs repleted; its shops, +actual feet, where the busy ambulating crowds are moving. Ah! what an +ever-active life the monster leads! Hardly has the last vibration of +the last carriage coming from a ball ceased at its heart before its +arms are moving at the barriers and it shakes itself slowly into +motion. Doors open; turning on their hinges like the membrane of some +huge lobster, invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand men or women, +of whom each individual occupies a space of six square feet, but has a +kitchen, a workshop, a bed, children, a garden, little light to see +by, but must see all. Imperceptibly, the articulations begin to crack; +motion communicates itself; the street speaks. By mid-day, all is +alive; the chimneys smoke, the monster eats; then he roars, and his +thousand paws begin to ramp. Splendid spectacle! But, O Paris! he who +has not admired your gloomy passages, your gleams and flashes of +light, your deep and silent /cul-de-sacs/, who has not listened to +your murmurings between midnight and two in the morning, knows nothing +as yet of your true poesy, nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts. + +There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly; who savor +their Paris, so to speak; who know its physiognomy so well that they +see every wart, and pimple, and redness. To others, Paris is always +that monstrous marvel, that amazing assemblage of activities, of +schemes, of thoughts; the city of a hundred thousand tales, the head +of the universe. But to those few, Paris is sad or gay, ugly or +beautiful, living or dead; to them Paris is a creature; every man, +every fraction of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that +great courtesan whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know +so well. These men are lovers of Paris; they lift their noses at such +or such a corner of a street, certain that they can see the face of a +clock; they tell a friend whose tobacco-pouch is empty, "Go down that +passage and turn to the left; there's a tobacconist next door to a +confectioner, where there's a pretty girl." Rambling about Paris is, +to these poets, a costly luxury. How can they help spending precious +minutes before the dramas, disasters, faces, and picturesque events +which meet us everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities, clothed in +posters,--who has, nevertheless, not a single clean corner, so +complying is she to the vices of the French nation! Who has not +chanced to leave his home early in the morning, intending to go to +some extremity of Paris, and found himself unable to get away from the +centre of it by the dinner-hour? Such a man will know how to excuse +this vagabondizing start upon our tale; which, however, we here sum up +in an observation both useful and novel, as far as any observation can +be novel in Paris, where there is nothing new,--not even the statue +erected yesterday, on which some young gamin has already scribbled his +name. + +Well, then! there are streets, or ends of streets, there are houses, +unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction, to which a +woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding +things to be thought of her. Whether the woman be rich and has a +carriage, whether she is on foot, or is disguised, if she enters one +of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day, she compromises her +reputation as a virtuous woman. If, by chance, she is there at nine in +the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make +upon her may prove fearful in their consequences. But if the woman is +young and pretty, if she enters a house in one of those streets, if +the house has a long, dark, damp, and evil-smelling passage-way, at +the end of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp, and if +beneath that gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman +with fleshless fingers, ah, then! and we say it in the interests of +young and pretty women, that woman is lost. She is at the mercy of the +first man of her acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough. +There is more than one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead +to a frightful drama, a bloody drama of death and love, a drama of the +modern school. + +Unhappily, this scene, this modern drama itself, will be comprehended +by only a small number of persons; and it is a pity to tell the tale +to a public which cannot enter into its local merit. But who can +flatter himself that he will ever be understood? We all die unknown-- +'tis the saying of women and of authors. + +At half-past eight o'clock one evening, in the rue Pagevin, in the +days when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous +word, and was, in the direction of the rue Soly, the narrowest and +most impassable street in Paris (not excepting the least frequented +corner of the most deserted street),--at the beginning of the month of +February about thirteen years ago, a young man, by one of those +chances which come but once in life, turned the corner of the rue +Pagevin to enter the rue des Vieux-Augustins, close to the rue Soly. +There, this young man, who lived himself in the rue de Bourbon, saw in +a woman near whom he had been unconsciously walking, a vague +resemblance to the prettiest woman in Paris; a chaste and delightful +person, with whom he was secretly and passionately in love,--a love +without hope; she was married. In a moment his heart leaped, an +intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed through all his +veins; his back turned cold, the skin of his head crept. He loved, he +was young, he knew Paris; and his knowledge did not permit him to be +ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant, rich, +young, and beautiful woman walking there, alone, with a furtively +criminal step. /She/ in that mud! at that hour! + +The love that this young man felt for that woman may seem romantic, +and all the more so because he was an officer in the Royal Guard. If +he had been in the infantry, the affair might have seemed more likely; +but, as an officer of rank in the cavalry, he belonged to that French +arm which demands rapidity in its conquests and derives as much vanity +from its amorous exploits as from its dashing uniform. But the passion +of this officer was a true love, and many young hearts will think it +noble. He loved this woman because she was virtuous; he loved her +virtue, her modest grace, her imposing saintliness, as the dearest +treasures of his hidden passion. This woman was indeed worthy to +inspire one of those platonic loves which are found, like flowers amid +bloody ruins, in the history of the middle-ages; worthy to be the +hidden principle of all the actions of a young man's life; a love as +high, as pure as the skies when blue; a love without hope and to which +men bind themselves because it can never deceive; a love that is +prodigal of unchecked enjoyment, especially at an age when the heart +is ardent, the imagination keen, and the eyes of a man see very +clearly. + +Strange, weird, inconceivable effects may be met with at night in +Paris. Only those who have amused themselves by watching those effects +have any idea how fantastic a woman may appear there at dusk. At times +the creature whom you are following, by accident or design, seems to +you light and slender; the stockings, if they are white, make you +fancy that the legs must be slim and elegant; the figure though +wrapped in a shawl, or concealed by a pelisse, defines itself +gracefully and seductively among the shadows; anon, the uncertain +gleam thrown from a shop-window or a street lamp bestows a fleeting +lustre, nearly always deceptive, on the unknown woman, and fires the +imagination, carrying it far beyond the truth. The senses then bestir +themselves; everything takes color and animation; the woman appears in +an altogether novel aspect; her person becomes beautiful. Behold! she +is not a woman, she is a demon, a siren, who is drawing you by +magnetic attraction to some respectable house, where the worthy +/bourgeoise/, frightened by your threatening step and the clack of +your boots, shuts the door in your face without looking at you. + +A vacillating gleam, thrown from the shop-window of a shoemaker, +suddenly illuminated from the waist down the figure of the woman who +was before the young man. Ah! surely, /she/ alone had that swaying +figure; she alone knew the secret of that chaste gait which innocently +set into relief the many beauties of that attractive form. Yes, that +was the shawl, and that the velvet bonnet which she wore in the +mornings. On her gray silk stockings not a spot, on her shoes not a +splash. The shawl held tightly round the bust disclosed, vaguely, its +charming lines; and the young man, who had often seen those shoulders +at a ball, knew well the treasures that the shawl concealed. By the +way a Parisian woman wraps a shawl around her, and the way she lifts +her feet in the street, a man of intelligence in such studies can +divine the secret of her mysterious errand. There is something, I know +not what, of quivering buoyancy in the person, in the gait; the woman +seems to weigh less; she steps, or rather, she glides like a star, and +floats onward led by a thought which exhales from the folds and motion +of her dress. The young man hastened his step, passed the woman, and +then turned back to look at her. Pst! she had disappeared into a +passage-way, the grated door of which and its bell still rattled and +sounded. The young man walked back to the alley and saw the woman +reach the farther end, where she began to mount--not without receiving +the obsequious bow of an old portress--a winding staircase, the lower +steps of which were strongly lighted; she went up buoyantly, eagerly, +as though impatient. + +"Impatient for what?" said the young man to himself, drawing back to +lean against a wooden railing on the other side of the street. He +gazed, unhappy man, at the different storeys of the house, with the +keen attention of a detective searching for a conspirator. + +It was one of those houses of which there are thousands in Paris, +ignoble, vulgar, narrow, yellowish in tone, with four storeys and +three windows on each floor. The outer blinds of the first floor were +closed. Where was she going? The young man fancied he heard the tinkle +of a bell on the second floor. As if in answer to it, a light began to +move in a room with two windows strongly illuminated, which presently +lit up the third window, evidently that of a first room, either the +salon or the dining-room of the apartment. Instantly the outline of a +woman's bonnet showed vaguely on the window, and a door between the +two rooms must have closed, for the first was dark again, while the +two other windows resumed their ruddy glow. At this moment a voice +said, "Hi, there!" and the young man was conscious of a blow on his +shoulder. + +"Why don't you pay attention?" said the rough voice of a workman, +carrying a plank on his shoulder. The man passed on. He was the voice +of Providence saying to the watcher: "What are you meddling with? +Think of your own duty; and leave these Parisians to their own +affairs." + +The young man crossed his arms; then, as no one beheld him, he +suffered tears of rage to flow down his cheeks unchecked. At last the +sight of the shadows moving behind the lighted windows gave him such +pain that he looked elsewhere and noticed a hackney-coach, standing +against a wall in the upper part of the rue des Vieux-Augustins, at a +place where there was neither the door of a house, nor the light of a +shop-window. + +Was it she? Was it not she? Life or death to a lover! This lover +waited. He stood there during a century of twenty minutes. After that +the woman came down, and he then recognized her as the one whom he +secretly loved. Nevertheless, he wanted still to doubt. She went to +the hackney-coach, and got into it. + +"The house will always be there and I can search it later," thought +the young man, following the carriage at a run, to solve his last +doubts; and soon he did so. + +The carriage stopped in the rue de Richelieu before a shop for +artificial flowers, close to the rue de Menars. The lady got out, +entered the shop, sent out the money to pay the coachman, and +presently left the shop herself, on foot, after buying a bunch of +marabouts. Marabouts for her black hair! The officer beheld her, +through the window-panes, placing the feathers to her head to see the +effect, and he fancied he could hear the conversation between herself +and the shop-woman. + +"Oh! madame, nothing is more suitable for brunettes: brunettes have +something a little too strongly marked in their lines, and marabouts +give them just that /flow/ which they lack. Madame la Duchesse de +Langeais says they give a woman something vague, Ossianic, and very +high-bred." + +"Very good; send them to me at once." + +Then the lady turned quickly toward the rue de Menars, and entered her +own house. When the door closed on her, the young lover, having lost +his hopes, and worse, far worse, his dearest beliefs, walked through +the streets like a drunken man, and presently found himself in his own +room without knowing how he came there. He flung himself into an arm- +chair, put his head in his hands and his feet on the andirons, drying +his boots until he burned them. It was an awful moment,--one of those +moments in human life when the character is moulded, and the future +conduct of the best of men depends on the good or evil fortune of his +first action. Providence or fatality?--choose which you will. + +This young man belonged to a good family, whose nobility was not very +ancient; but there are so few really old families in these days, that +all men of rank are ancient without dispute. His grandfather had +bought the office of counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, where he +afterwards became president. His sons, each provided with a handsome +fortune, entered the army, and through their marriages became attached +to the court. The Revolution swept the family away; but one old +dowager, too obstinate to emigrate, was left; she was put in prison, +threatened with death, but was saved by the 9th Thermidor and +recovered her property. When the proper time came, about the year +1804, she recalled her grandson to France. Auguste de Maulincour, the +only scion of the Carbonnon de Maulincour, was brought up by the good +dowager with the triple care of a mother, a woman of rank, and an +obstinate dowager. When the Restoration came, the young man, then +eighteen years of age, entered the Maison-Rouge, followed the princes +to Ghent, was made an officer in the body-guard, left it to serve in +the line, but was recalled later to the Royal Guard, where, at twenty- +three years of age, he found himself major of a cavalry regiment,--a +splendid position, due to his grandmother, who had played her cards +well to obtain it, in spite of his youth. This double biography is a +compendium of the general and special history, barring variations, of +all the noble families who emigrated having debts and property, +dowagers and tact. + +Madame la Baronne de Maulincour had a friend in the old Vidame de +Pamiers, formerly a commander of the Knights of Malta. This was one of +those undying friendships founded on sexagenary ties which nothing can +weaken, because at the bottom of such intimacies there are certain +secrets of the human heart, delightful to guess at when we have the +time, insipid to explain in twenty words, and which might make the +text of a work in four volumes as amusing as the Doyen de Killerine,-- +a work about which young men talk and judge without having read it. + +Auguste de Maulincour belonged therefore to the faubourg Saint-Germain +through his grandmother and the vidame, and it sufficed him to date +back two centuries to take the tone and opinions of those who assume +to go back to Clovis. This young man, pale, slender, and delicate in +appearance, a man of honor and true courage, who would fight a duel +for a yes or a no, had never yet fought upon a battle-field, though he +wore in his button-hole the cross of the Legion of honor. He was, as +you perceive, one of the blunders of the Restoration, perhaps the most +excusable of them. The youth of those days was the youth of no epoch. +It came between the memories of the Empire and those of the +Emigration, between the old traditions of the court and the +conscientious education of the /bourgeoisie/; between religion and +fancy-balls; between two political faiths, between Louis XVIII., who +saw only the present, and Charles X., who looked too far into the +future; it was moreover bound to accept the will of the king, though +the king was deceiving and tricking it. This unfortunate youth, blind +and yet clear-sighted, was counted as nothing by old men jealously +keeping the reins of the State in their feeble hands, while the +monarchy could have been saved by their retirement and the accession +of this Young France, which the old doctrinaires, the /emigres/ of the +Restoration, still speak of slightingly. Auguste de Maulincour was a +victim to the ideas which weighed in those days upon French youth, and +we must here explain why. + +The Vidame de Pamiers was still, at sixty-seven years of age, a very +brilliant man, having seen much and lived much; a good talker, a man +of honor and a gallant man, but who held as to women the most +detestable opinions; he loved them, and he despised them. /Their/ +honor! /their/ feelings! Ta-ra-ra, rubbish and shams! When he was with +them, he believed in them, the ci-devant "monstre"; he never +contradicted them, and he made them shine. But among his male friends, +when the topic of the sex came up, he laid down the principle that to +deceive women, and to carry on several intrigues at once, should be +the occupation of those young men who were so misguided as to wish to +meddle in the affairs of the State. It is sad to have to sketch so +hackneyed a portrait, for has it not figured everywhere and become, +literally, as threadbare as that of a grenadier of the Empire? But the +vidame had an influence on Monsieur de Maulincour's destiny which +obliges us to preserve his portrait; he lectured the young man after +his fashion, and did his best to convert him to the doctrines of the +great age of gallantry. + +The dowager, a tender-hearted, pious woman, sitting between God and +her vidame, a model of grace and sweetness, but gifted with that +well-bred persistency which triumphs in the long run, had longed to +preserve for her grandson the beautiful illusions of life, and had +therefore brought him up in the highest principles; she instilled into +him her own delicacy of feeling and made him, to outward appearance, a +timid man, if not a fool. The sensibilities of the young fellow, +preserved pure, were not worn by contact without; he remained so +chaste, so scrupulous, that he was keenly offended by actions and +maxims to which the world attached no consequence. Ashamed of this +susceptibility, he forced himself to conceal it under a false +hardihood; but he suffered in secret, all the while scoffing with +others at the things he reverenced. + +It came to pass that he was deceived; because, in accordance with a +not uncommon whim of destiny, he, a man of gentle melancholy, and +spiritual in love, encountered in the object of his first passion a +woman who held in horror all German sentimentalism. The young man, in +consequence, distrusted himself, became dreamy, absorbed in his +griefs, complaining of not being understood. Then, as we desire all +the more violently the things we find difficult to obtain, he +continued to adore women with that ingenuous tenderness and feline +delicacy the secret of which belongs to women themselves, who may, +perhaps, prefer to keep the monopoly of it. In point of fact, though +women of the world complain of the way men love them, they have little +liking themselves for those whose soul is half feminine. Their own +superiority consists in making men believe they are their inferiors in +love; therefore they will readily leave a lover if he is inexperienced +enough to rob them of those fears with which they seek to deck +themselves, those delightful tortures of feigned jealousy, those +troubles of hope betrayed, those futile expectations,--in short, the +whole procession of their feminine miseries. They hold Sir Charles +Grandison in horror. What can be more contrary to their nature than a +tranquil, perfect love? They want emotions; happiness without storms +is not happiness to them. Women with souls that are strong enough to +bring infinitude into love are angelic exceptions; they are among +women what noble geniuses are among men. Their great passions are rare +as masterpieces. Below the level of such love come compromises, +conventions, passing and contemptible irritations, as in all things +petty and perishable. + +Amid the hidden disasters of his heart, and while he was still seeking +the woman who could comprehend him (a search which, let us remark in +passing, is one of the amorous follies of our epoch), Auguste met, in +the rank of society that was farthest from his own, in the secondary +sphere of money, where banking holds the first place, a perfect being, +one of those women who have I know not what about them that is saintly +and sacred,--women who inspire such reverence that love has need of +the help of a long familiarity to declare itself. + +Auguste then gave himself up wholly to the delights of the deepest and +most moving of passions, to a love that was purely adoring. +Innumerable repressed desires there were, shadows of passion so vague +yet so profound, so fugitive and yet so actual, that one scarcely +knows to what we may compare them. They are like perfumes, or clouds, +or rays of the sun, or shadows, or whatever there is in nature that +shines for a moment and disappears, that springs to life and dies, +leaving in the heart long echoes of emotion. When the soul is young +enough to nurture melancholy and far-off hope, to find in woman more +than a woman, is it not the greatest happiness that can befall a man +when he loves enough to feel more joy in touching a gloved hand, or a +lock of hair, in listening to a word, in casting a single look, than +in all the ardor of possession given by happy love? Thus it is that +rejected persons, those rebuffed by fate, the ugly and unfortunate, +lovers unrevealed, women and timid men, alone know the treasures +contained in the voice of the beloved. Taking their source and their +element from the soul itself, the vibrations of the air, charged with +passion, put our hearts so powerfully into communion, carrying thought +between them so lucidly, and being, above all, so incapable of +falsehood, that a single inflection of a voice is often a revelation. +What enchantments the intonations of a tender voice can bestow upon +the heart of a poet! What ideas they awaken! What freshness they shed +there! Love is in the voice before the glance avows it. Auguste, poet +after the manner of lovers (there are poets who feel, and poets who +express; the first are the happiest), Auguste had tasted all these +early joys, so vast, so fecund. SHE possessed the most winning organ +that the most artful woman of the world could have desired in order to +deceive at her ease; /she/ had that silvery voice which is soft to the +ear, and ringing only for the heart which it stirs and troubles, +caresses and subjugates. + +And this woman went by night to the rue Soly through the rue Pagevin! +and her furtive apparition in an infamous house had just destroyed the +grandest of passions! The vidame's logic triumphed. + +"If she is betraying her husband we will avenge ourselves," said +Auguste. + +There was still faith in that "if." The philosophic doubt of Descartes +is a politeness with which we should always honor virtue. Ten o'clock +sounded. The Baron de Maulincour remembered that this woman was going +to a ball that evening at a house to which he had access. He dressed, +went there, and searched for her through all the salons. The mistress +of the house, Madame de Nucingen, seeing him thus occupied, said:-- + +"You are looking for Madame Jules; but she has not yet come." + +"Good evening, dear," said a voice. + +Auguste and Madame de Nucingen turned round. Madame Jules had arrived, +dressed in white, looking simple and noble, wearing in her hair the +marabouts the young baron had seen her choose in the flower-shop. That +voice of love now pierced his heart. Had he won the slightest right to +be jealous of her he would have petrified her then and there by saying +the words, "Rue Soly!" But if he, an alien to her life, had said those +words in her ear a thousand times, Madame Jules would have asked him +in astonishment what he meant. He looked at her stupidly. + +For those sarcastic persons who scoff at all things it may be a great +amusement to detect the secret of a woman, to know that her chastity +is a lie, that her calm face hides some anxious thought, that under +that pure brow is a dreadful drama. But there are other souls to whom +the sight is saddening; and many of those who laugh in public, when +withdrawn into themselves and alone with their conscience, curse the +world while they despise the woman. Such was the case with Auguste de +Maulincour, as he stood there in presence of Madame Jules. Singular +situation! There was no other relation between them than that which +social life establishes between persons who exchange a few words seven +or eight times in the course of a winter, and yet he was calling her +to account on behalf of a happiness unknown to her; he was judging +her, without letting her know of his accusation. + +Many young men find themselves thus in despair at having broken +forever with a woman adored in secret, condemned and despised in +secret. There are many hidden monologues told to the walls of some +solitary lodging; storms roused and calmed without ever leaving the +depths of hearts; amazing scenes of the moral world, for which a +painter is wanted. Madame Jules sat down, leaving her husband to make +a turn around the salon. After she was seated she seemed uneasy, and, +while talking with her neighbor, she kept a furtive eye on Monsieur +Jules Desmarets, her husband, a broker chiefly employed by the Baron +de Nucingen. The following is the history of their home life. + +Monsieur Desmarets was, five years before his marriage, in a broker's +office, with no other means than the meagre salary of a clerk. But he +was a man to whom misfortune had early taught the truths of life, and +he followed the strait path with the tenacity of an insect making for +its nest; he was one of those dogged young men who feign death before +an obstacle and wear out everybody's patience with their own beetle- +like perseverance. Thus, young as he was, he had all the republican +virtue of poor peoples; he was sober, saving of his time, an enemy to +pleasure. He waited. Nature had given him the immense advantage of an +agreeable exterior. His calm, pure brow, the shape of his placid, but +expressive face, his simple manners,--all revealed in him a laborious +and resigned existence, that lofty personal dignity which is imposing +to others, and the secret nobility of heart which can meet all events. +His modesty inspired a sort of respect in those who knew him. Solitary +in the midst of Paris, he knew the social world only by glimpses +during the brief moments which he spent in his patron's salon on +holidays. + +There were passions in this young man, as in most of the men who live +in that way, of amazing profundity,--passions too vast to be drawn +into petty incidents. His want of means compelled him to lead an +ascetic life, and he conquered his fancies by hard work. After paling +all day over figures, he found his recreation in striving obstinately +to acquire that wide general knowledge so necessary in these days to +every man who wants to make his mark, whether in society, or in +commerce, at the bar, or in politics or literature. The only peril +these fine souls have to fear comes from their own uprightness. They +see some poor girl; they love her; they marry her, and wear out their +lives in a struggle between poverty and love. The noblest ambition is +quenched perforce by the household account-book. Jules Desmarets went +headlong into this peril. + +He met one evening at his patron's house a girl of the rarest beauty. +Unfortunate men who are deprived of affection, and who consume the +finest hours of youth in work and study, alone know the rapid ravages +that passion makes in their lonely, misconceived hearts. They are so +certain of loving truly, all their forces are concentrated so quickly +on the object of their love, that they receive, while beside her, the +most delightful sensations, when, as often happens, they inspire none +at all. Nothing is more flattering to a woman's egotism than to divine +this passion, apparently immovable, and these emotions so deep that +they have needed a great length of time to reach the human surface. +These poor men, anchorites in the midst of Paris, have all the +enjoyments of anchorites; and may sometimes succumb to temptations. +But, more often deceived, betrayed, and misunderstood, they are rarely +able to gather the sweet fruits of a love which, to them, is like a +flower dropped from heaven. + +One smile from his wife, a single inflection of her voice sufficed to +make Jules Desmarets conceive a passion which was boundless. Happily, +the concentrated fire of that secret passion revealed itself artlessly +to the woman who inspired it. These two beings then loved each other +religiously. To express all in a word, they clasped hands without +shame before the eyes of the world and went their way like two +children, brother and sister, passing serenely through a crowd where +all made way for them and admired them. + +The young girl was in one of those unfortunate positions which human +selfishness entails upon children. She had no civil status; her name +of "Clemence" and her age were recorded only by a notary public. As +for her fortune, that was small indeed. Jules Desmarets was a happy +man on hearing these particulars. If Clemence had belonged to an +opulent family, he might have despaired of obtaining her; but she was +only the poor child of love, the fruit of some terrible adulterous +passion; and they were married. Then began for Jules Desmarets a +series of fortunate events. Every one envied his happiness; and +henceforth talked only of his luck, without recalling either his +virtues or his courage. + +Some days after their marriage, the mother of Clemence, who passed in +society for her godmother, told Jules Desmarets to buy the office and +good-will of a broker, promising to provide him with the necessary +capital. In those days, such offices could still be bought at a modest +price. That evening, in the salon as it happened of his patron, a +wealthy capitalist proposed, on the recommendation of the mother, a +very advantageous transaction for Jules Desmarets, and the next day +the happy clerk was able to buy out his patron. In four years +Desmarets became one of the most prosperous men in his business; new +clients increased the number his predecessor had left to him; he +inspired confidence in all; and it was impossible for him not to feel, +by the way business came to him, that some hidden influence, due to +his mother-in-law, or to Providence, was secretly protecting him. + +At the end of the third year Clemence lost her godmother. By that time +Monsieur Jules (so called to distinguish him from an elder brother, +whom he had set up as a notary in Paris) possessed an income from +invested property of two hundred thousand francs. There was not in all +Paris another instance of the domestic happiness enjoyed by this +couple. For five years their exceptional love had been troubled by +only one event,--a calumny for which Monsieur Jules exacted vengeance. +One of his former comrades attributed to Madame Jules the fortune of +her husband, explaining that it came from a high protection dearly +paid for. The man who uttered the calumny was killed in the duel that +followed it. + +The profound passion of this couple, which survived marriage, obtained +a great success in society, though some women were annoyed by it. The +charming household was respected; everybody feted it. Monsieur and +Madame Jules were sincerely liked, perhaps because there is nothing +more delightful to see than happy people; but they never stayed long +at any festivity. They slipped away early, as impatient to regain +their nest as wandering pigeons. This nest was a large and beautiful +mansion in the rue de Menars, where a true feeling for art tempered +the luxury which the financial world continues, traditionally, to +display. Here the happy pair received their society magnificently, +although the obligations of social life suited them but little. + +Nevertheless, Jules submitted to the demands of the world, knowing +that, sooner or later, a family has need of it; but he and his wife +felt themselves, in its midst, like green-house plants in a tempest. +With a delicacy that was very natural, Jules had concealed from his +wife the calumny and the death of the calumniator. Madame Jules, +herself, was inclined, through her sensitive and artistic nature, to +desire luxury. In spite of the terrible lesson of the duel, some +imprudent women whispered to each other that Madame Jules must +sometimes be pressed for money. They often found her more elegantly +dressed in her own home than when she went into society. She loved to +adorn herself to please her husband, wishing to show him that to her +he was more than any social life. A true love, a pure love, above all, +a happy love! Jules, always a lover, and more in love as time went by, +was happy in all things beside his wife, even in her caprices; in +fact, he would have been uneasy if she had none, thinking it a symptom +of some illness. + +Auguste de Maulincour had the personal misfortune of running against +this passion, and falling in love with the wife beyond recovery. +Nevertheless, though he carried in his heart so intense a love, he was +not ridiculous; he complied with all the demands of society, and of +military manners and customs. And yet his face wore constantly, even +though he might be drinking a glass of champagne, that dreamy look, +that air of silently despising life, that nebulous expression which +belongs, though for other reasons, to /blases/ men,--men dissatisfied +with hollow lives. To love without hope, to be disgusted with life, +constitute, in these days, a social position. The enterprise of +winning the heart of a sovereign might give, perhaps, more hope than a +love rashly conceived for a happy woman. Therefore Maulincour had +sufficient reason to be grave and gloomy. A queen has the vanity of +her power; the height of her elevation protects her. But a pious +/bourgeoise/ is like a hedgehog, or an oyster, in its rough wrappings. + +At this moment the young officer was beside his unconscious mistress, +who certainly was unaware that she was doubly faithless. Madame Jules +was seated, in a naive attitude, like the least artful woman in +existence, soft and gentle, full of a majestic serenity. What an abyss +is human nature! Before beginning a conversation, the baron looked +alternately at the wife and at the husband. How many were the +reflections he made! He recomposed the "Night Thoughts" of Young in a +second. And yet the music was sounding through the salons, the light +was pouring from a thousand candles. It was a banker's ball,--one of +those insolent festivals by means of which the world of solid gold +endeavored to sneer at the gold-embossed salons where the faubourg +Saint-Germain met and laughed, not foreseeing the day when the bank +would invade the Luxembourg and take its seat upon the throne. The +conspirators were now dancing, indifferent to coming bankruptcies, +whether of Power or of the Bank. The gilded salons of the Baron de +Nucingen were gay with that peculiar animation that the world of +Paris, apparently joyous at any rate, gives to its fetes. There, men +of talent communicate their wit to fools, and fools communicate that +air of enjoyment that characterizes them. By means of this exchange +all is liveliness. But a ball in Paris always resembles fireworks to a +certain extent; wit, coquetry, and pleasure sparkle and go out like +rockets. The next day all present have forgotten their wit, their +coquetry, their pleasure. + +"Ah!" thought Auguste, by way of conclusion, "women are what the +vidame says they are. Certainly all those dancing here are less +irreproachable actually than Madame Jules appears to be, and yet +Madame Jules went to the rue Soly!" + +The rue Soly was like an illness to him; the very word shrivelled his +heart. + +"Madame, do you ever dance?" he said to her. + +"This is the third time you have asked me that question this winter," +she answered, smiling. + +"But perhaps you have never answered it." + +"That is true." + +"I knew very well that you were false, like other women." + +Madame Jules continued to smile. + +"Listen, monsieur," she said; "if I told you the real reason, you +would think it ridiculous. I do not think it false to abstain from +telling things that the world would laugh at." + +"All secrets demand, in order to be told, a friendship of which I am +no doubt unworthy, madame. But you cannot have any but noble secrets; +do you think me capable of jesting on noble things?" + +"Yes," she said, "you, like all the rest, laugh at our purest +sentiments; you calumniate them. Besides, I have no secrets. I have +the right to love my husband in the face of all the world, and I say +so,--I am proud of it; and if you laugh at me when I tell you that I +dance only with him, I shall have a bad opinion of your heart." + +"Have you never danced since your marriage with any one but your +husband?" + +"Never. His arm is the only one on which I have leaned; I have never +felt the touch of another man." + +"Has your physician never felt your pulse?" + +"Now you are laughing at me." + +"No, madame, I admire you, because I comprehend you. But you let a man +hear your voice, you let yourself be seen, you--in short, you permit +our eyes to admire you--" + +"Ah!" she said, interrupting him, "that is one of my griefs. Yes, I +wish it were possible for a married woman to live secluded with her +husband, as a mistress lives with her lover, for then--" + +"Then why were you, two hours ago, on foot, disguised, in the rue +Soly?" + +"The rue Soly, where is that?" + +And her pure voice gave no sign of any emotion; no feature of her face +quivered; she did not blush; she remained calm. + +"What! you did not go up to the second floor of a house in the rue des +Vieux-Augustins at the corner of the rue Soly? You did not have a +hackney-coach waiting near by? You did not return in it to the flower- +shop in the rue Richelieu, where you bought the feathers that are now +in your hair?" + +"I did not leave my house this evening." + +As she uttered that lie she was smiling and imperturbable; she played +with her fan; but if any one had passed a hand down her back they +would, perhaps, have found it moist. At that instant Auguste +remembered the instructions of the vidame. + +"Then it was some one who strangely resembled you," he said, with a +credulous air. + +"Monsieur," she replied, "if you are capable of following a woman and +detecting her secrets, you will allow me to say that it is a wrong, a +very wrong thing, and I do you the honor to say that I disbelieve +you." + +The baron turned away, placed himself before the fireplace and seemed +thoughtful. He bent his head; but his eyes were covertly fixed on +Madame Jules, who, not remembering the reflections in the mirror, cast +two or three glances at him that were full of terror. Presently she +made a sign to her husband and rising took his arm to walk about the +salon. As she passed before Monsieur de Maulincour, who at that moment +was speaking to a friend, he said in a loud voice, as if in reply to a +remark: "That woman will certainly not sleep quietly this night." +Madame Jules stopped, gave him an imposing look which expressed +contempt, and continued her way, unaware that another look, if +surprised by her husband, might endanger not only her happiness but +the lives of two men. Auguste, frantic with anger, which he tried to +smother in the depths of his soul, presently left the house, swearing +to penetrate to the heart of the mystery. Before leaving, he sought +Madame Jules, to look at her again; but she had disappeared. + +What a drama cast into that young head so eminently romantic, like all +who have not known love in the wide extent which they give to it. He +adored Madame Jules under a new aspect; he loved her now with the fury +of jealousy and the frenzied anguish of hope. Unfaithful to her +husband, the woman became common. Auguste could now give himself up to +the joys of successful love, and his imagination opened to him a +career of pleasures. Yes, he had lost the angel, but he had found the +most delightful of demons. He went to bed, building castles in the +air, excusing Madame Jules by some romantic fiction in which he did +not believe. He resolved to devote himself wholly, from that day +forth, to a search for the causes, motives, and keynote of this +mystery. It was a tale to read, or better still, a drama to be played, +in which he had a part. + + + + CHAPTER II + + FERRAGUS + +A fine thing is the task of a spy, when performed for one's own +benefit and in the interests of a passion. Is it not giving ourselves +the pleasure of a thief and a rascal while continuing honest men? But +there is another side to it; we must resign ourselves to boil with +anger, to roar with impatience, to freeze our feet in the mud, to be +numbed, and roasted, and torn by false hopes. We must go, on the faith +of a mere indication, to a vague object, miss our end, curse our luck, +improvise to ourselves elegies, dithyrambics, exclaim idiotically +before inoffensive pedestrians who observe us, knock over old apple- +women and their baskets, run hither and thither, stand on guard +beneath a window, make a thousand suppositions. But, after all, it is +a chase, a hunt; a hunt in Paris, a hunt with all its chances, minus +dogs and guns and the tally-ho! Nothing compares with it but the life +of gamblers. But it needs a heart big with love and vengeance to +ambush itself in Paris, like a tiger waiting to spring upon its prey, +and to enjoy the chances and contingencies of Paris, by adding one +special interest to the many that abound there. But for this we need a +many-sided soul--for must we not live in a thousand passions, a +thousand sentiments? + +Auguste de Maulincour flung himself into this ardent existence +passionately, for he felt all its pleasures and all its misery. He +went disguised about Paris, watching at the corners of the rue Pagevin +and the rue des Vieux-Augustins. He hurried like a hunter from the rue +de Menars to the rue Soly, and back from the rue Soly to the rue de +Menars, without obtaining either the vengeance or the knowledge which +would punish or reward such cares, such efforts, such wiles. But he +had not yet reached that impatience which wrings our very entrails and +makes us sweat; he roamed in hope, believing that Madame Jules would +only refrain for a few days from revisiting the place where she knew +she had been detected. He devoted the first days therefore, to a +careful study of the secrets of the street. A novice at such work, he +dared not question either the porter or the shoemaker of the house to +which Madame Jules had gone; but he managed to obtain a post of +observation in a house directly opposite to the mysterious apartment. +He studied the ground, trying to reconcile the conflicting demands of +prudence, impatience, love, and secrecy. + +Early in the month of March, while busy with plans by which he +expected to strike a decisive blow, he left his post about four in the +afternoon, after one of those patient watches from which he had +learned nothing. He was on his way to his own house whither a matter +relating to his military service called him, when he was overtaken in +the rue Coquilliere by one of those heavy showers which instantly +flood the gutters, while each drop of rain rings loudly in the puddles +of the roadway. A pedestrian under these circumstances is forced to +stop short and take refuge in a shop or cafe if he is rich enough to +pay for the forced hospitality, or, if in poorer circumstances, under +a /porte-cochere/, that haven of paupers or shabbily dressed persons. +Why have none of our painters ever attempted to reproduce the +physiognomies of a swarm of Parisians, grouped, under stress of +weather, in the damp /porte-cochere/ of a building? First, there's the +musing philosophical pedestrian, who observes with interest all he +sees,--whether it be the stripes made by the rain on the gray +background of the atmosphere (a species of chasing not unlike the +capricious threads of spun glass), or the whirl of white water which +the wind is driving like a luminous dust along the roofs, or the +fitful disgorgements of the gutter-pipes, sparkling and foaming; in +short, the thousand nothings to be admired and studied with delight by +loungers, in spite of the porter's broom which pretends to be sweeping +out the gateway. Then there's the talkative refugee, who complains and +converses with the porter while he rests on his broom like a grenadier +on his musket; or the pauper wayfarer, curled against the wall +indifferent to the condition of his rags, long used, alas, to contact +with the streets; or the learned pedestrian who studies, spells, and +reads the posters on the walls without finishing them; or the smiling +pedestrian who makes fun of others to whom some street fatality has +happened, who laughs at the muddy women, and makes grimaces at those +of either sex who are looking from the windows; and the silent being +who gazes from floor to floor; and the working-man, armed with a +satchel or a paper bundle, who is estimating the rain as a profit or +loss; and the good-natured fugitive, who arrives like a shot +exclaiming, "Ah! what weather, messieurs, what weather!" and bows to +every one; and, finally, the true /bourgeois/ of Paris, with his +unfailing umbrella, an expert in showers, who foresaw this particular +one, but would come out in spite of his wife; this one takes a seat in +the porter's chair. According to individual character, each member of +this fortuitous society contemplates the skies, and departs, skipping +to avoid the mud,--because he is in a hurry, or because he sees other +citizens walking along in spite of wind and slush, or because, the +archway being damp and mortally catarrhal, the bed's edge, as the +proverb says, is better than the sheets. Each one has his motive. No +one is left but the prudent pedestrian, the man who, before he sets +forth, makes sure of a scrap of blue sky through the rifting clouds. + +Monsieur de Maulincour took refuge, as we have said, with a whole +family of fugitives, under the porch of an old house, the court-yard +of which looked like the flue of a chimney. The sides of its +plastered, nitrified, and mouldy walls were so covered with pipes and +conduits from all the many floors of its four elevations, that it +might have been said to resemble at that moment the /cascatelles/ of +Saint-Cloud. Water flowed everywhere; it boiled, it leaped, it +murmured; it was black, white, blue, and green; it shrieked, it +bubbled under the broom of the portress, a toothless old woman used to +storms, who seemed to bless them as she swept into the street a mass +of scraps an intelligent inventory of which would have revealed the +lives and habits of every dweller in the house,--bits of printed +cottons, tea-leaves, artificial flower-petals faded and worthless, +vegetable parings, papers, scraps of metal. At every sweep of her +broom the old woman bared the soul of the gutter, that black fissure +on which a porter's mind is ever bent. The poor lover examined this +scene, like a thousand others which our heaving Paris presents daily; +but he examined it mechanically, as a man absorbed in thought, when, +happening to look up, he found himself all but nose to nose with a man +who had just entered the gateway. + +In appearance this man was a beggar, but not the Parisian beggar,-- +that creation without a name in human language; no, this man formed +another type, while presenting on the outside all the ideas suggested +by the word "beggar." He was not marked by those original Parisian +characteristics which strike us so forcibly in the paupers whom +Charlet was fond of representing, with his rare luck in observation,-- +coarse faces reeking of mud, hoarse voices, reddened and bulbous +noses, mouths devoid of teeth but menacing; humble yet terrible +beings, in whom a profound intelligence shining in their eyes seems +like a contradiction. Some of these bold vagabonds have blotched, +cracked, veiny skins; their foreheads are covered with wrinkles, their +hair scanty and dirty, like a wig thrown on a dust-heap. All are gay +in their degradation, and degraded in their joys; all are marked with +the stamp of debauchery, casting their silence as a reproach; their +very attitude revealing fearful thoughts. Placed between crime and +beggary they have no compunctions, and circle prudently around the +scaffold without mounting it, innocent in the midst of crime, and +vicious in their innocence. They often cause a laugh, but they always +cause reflection. One represents to you civilization stunted, +repressed; he comprehends everything, the honor of the galleys, +patriotism, virtue, the malice of a vulgar crime, or the fine +astuteness of elegant wickedness. Another is resigned, a perfect +mimer, but stupid. All have slight yearnings after order and work, but +they are pushed back into their mire by society, which makes no +inquiry as to what there may be of great men, poets, intrepid souls, +and splendid organizations among these vagrants, these gypsies of +Paris; a people eminently good and eminently evil--like all the masses +who suffer--accustomed to endure unspeakable woes, and whom a fatal +power holds ever down to the level of the mire. They all have a dream, +a hope, a happiness,--cards, lottery, or wine. + +There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned +carelessly against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour, like +some fantastic idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the +front of which is turned to the wall. This tall, spare man, whose +leaden visage expressed some deep but chilling thought, dried up all +pity in the hearts of those who looked at him by the scowling look and +the sarcastic attitude which announced an intention of treating every +man as an equal. His face was of a dirty white, and his wrinkled +skull, denuded of hair, bore a vague resemblance to a block of +granite. A few gray locks on either side of his head fell straight to +the collar of his greasy coat, which was buttoned to the chin. He +resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote; he was, apparently, scoffing +but melancholy, full of disdain and philosophy, but half-crazy. He +seemed to have no shirt. His beard was long. A rusty black cravat, +much worn and ragged, exposed a protuberant neck deeply furrowed, with +veins as thick as cords. A large brown circle like a bruise was +strongly marked beneath his eyes, He seemed to be at least sixty years +old. His hands were white and clean. His boots were trodden down at +the heels, and full of holes. A pair of blue trousers, mended in +various places, were covered with a species of fluff which made them +offensive to the eye. Whether it was that his damp clothes exhaled a +fetid odor, or that he had in his normal condition the "poor smell" +which belongs to Parisian tenements, just as offices, sacristies, and +hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness, of which no +words can give the least idea, or whether some other reason affected +them, those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and +left him alone. He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm, +expressionless look, the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand, a +dull, wan glance, without warmth, a species of impenetrable veil, +beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close +estimation of men and things and events. Not a fold of his face +quivered. His mouth and forehead were impassible; but his eyes moved +and lowered themselves with a noble, almost tragic slowness. There +was, in fact, a whole drama in the motion of those withered eyelids. + +The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour +to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question +and end by comprising a world of thought. The storm was past. Monsieur +de Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his +coat as it brushed the gate-post, but as he turned to leave his own +place he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the +unknown beggar when he took, as the baron had seen him take, a +handkerchief from his pocket. The young man picked it up, and read, +involuntarily, the address: "To Monsieur Ferragusse, Rue des Grands- +Augustains, corner of rue Soly." + +The letter bore no postmark, and the address prevented Monsieur de +Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it; for there are +few passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run. The +baron had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall. +He determined to keep the letter, which would give him the right to +enter the mysterious house to return it to the strange man, not +doubting that he lived there. Suspicions, vague as the first faint +gleams of daylight, made him fancy relations between this man and +Madame Jules. A jealous lover supposes everything; and it is by +supposing everything and selecting the most probable of their +conjectures that judges, spies, lovers, and observers get at the truth +they are looking for. + +"Is the letter for him? Is it from Madame Jules?" + +His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him; but +when he read the first words of the letter he smiled. Here it is, +textually, in all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its +miserable orthography,--a letter to which it would be impossible to +add anything, or to take anything away, unless it were the letter +itself. But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating it. In the +original there were neither commas nor stops of any kind, not even +notes of exclamation,--a fact which tends to undervalue the system of +notes and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the +great disasters of all the passions:-- + + Henry,--Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your + sake was that of not giving you anny news of me; but an + iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you + have done me. I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise + will not pitty me. Your heart is deaf to feeling. Is it deaf to + the cries of nature? But what matter? I must tell you to what a + dredful point you are gilty, and the horror of the position to + which you have brought me. Henry, you knew what I sufered from my + first wrong-doing, and yet you plunged me into the same misery, + and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering. Yes, I will say + it, the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me + corage to bare my fate. But now, what have I left? Have you not + made me loose all that was dear to me, all that held me to life; + parents, frends, onor, reputation,--all, I have sacrifised all to + you, and nothing is left me but shame, oprobrum, and--I say this + without blushing--poverty. Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes + but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred; and now I have them + I find the corage that my project requires. My decision is made; + the onor of my famly commands it. I must put an end to my + suferins. Make no remarks upon my conduct, Henry; it is orful, I + know, but my condition obliges me. Without help, without suport, + without one frend to comfort me, can I live? No. Fate has desided + for me. So in two days, Henry, two days, Ida will have seased to + be worthy of your regard. Oh, Henry! oh, my frend! for I can never + change to you, promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do. + Do not forget that you have driven me to it; it is your work, and + you must judge it. May heven not punish you for all your crimes. I + ask your pardon on my knees, for I feel nothing is wanting to my + misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy. In spite of the + poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you. If you had loved + me I would have taken all from your friendship; but a benfit given + by pitty /my soul refussis/. I would be baser to take it than he + who offered it. I have one favor to ask of you. I don't know how + long I must stay at Madame Meynardie's; be genrous enough not to + come there. Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer. + I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours. You + hate me,--you said so; that word is writen on my heart, and + freeses it with fear. Alas! it is now, when I need all my corage, + all my strength, that my faculties abandon me. Henry, my frend, + before I put a barrier forever between us, give me a last pruf of + your esteem. Write me, answer me, say you respect me still, though + you have seased to love me. My eyes are worthy still to look into + yours, but I do not ask an interfew; I fear my weakness and my + love. But for pitty's sake write me a line at once; it will give + me the corage I need to meet my trubbles. Farewell, orther of all + my woes, but the only frend my heart has chosen and will never + forget. + +Ida. + + +This life of a young girl, with its love betrayed, its fatal joys, its +pangs, its miseries, and its horrible resignation, summed up in a few +words, this humble poem, essentially Parisian, written on dirty paper, +influenced for a passing moment Monsieur de Maulincour. He asked +himself whether this Ida might not be some poor relation of Madame +Jules, and that strange rendezvous, which he had witnessed by chance, +the mere necessity of a charitable effort. But could that old pauper +have seduced this Ida? There was something impossible in the very +idea. Wandering in this labyrinth of reflections, which crossed, +recrossed, and obliterated one another, the baron reached the rue +Pagevin, and saw a hackney-coach standing at the end of the rue des +Vieux-Augustins where it enters the rue Montmartre. All waiting +hackney-coaches now had an interest for him. + +"Can she be there?" he thought to himself, and his heart beat fast +with a hot and feverish throbbing. + +He pushed the little door with the bell, but he lowered his head as he +did so, obeying a sense of shame, for a voice said to him secretly:-- + +"Why are you putting your foot into this mystery?" + +He went up a few steps, and found himself face to face with the old +portress. + +"Monsieur Ferragus?" he said. + +"Don't know him." + +"Doesn't Monsieur Ferragus live here?" + +"Haven't such a name in the house." + +"But, my good woman--" + +"I'm not your good woman, monsieur, I'm the portress." + +"But, madame," persisted the baron, "I have a letter for Monsieur +Ferragus." + +"Ah! if monsieur has a letter," she said, changing her tone, "that's +another matter. Will you let me see it--that letter?" + +Auguste showed the folded letter. The old woman shook her head with a +doubtful air, hesitated, seemed to wish to leave the lodge and inform +the mysterious Ferragus of his unexpected visitor, but finally said:-- + +"Very good; go up, monsieur. I suppose you know the way?" + +Without replying to this remark, which he thought might be a trap, the +young officer ran lightly up the stairway, and rang loudly at the door +of the second floor. His lover's instinct told him, "She is there." + +The beggar of the porch, Ferragus, the "orther" of Ida's woes, opened +the door himself. He appeared in a flowered dressing-gown, white +flannel trousers, his feet in embroidered slippers, and his face +washed clean of stains. Madame Jules, whose head projected beyond the +casing of the door in the next room, turned pale and dropped into a +chair. + +"What is the matter, madame?" cried the officer, springing toward her. + +But Ferragus stretched forth an arm and flung the intruder back with +so sharp a thrust that Auguste fancied he had received a blow with an +iron bar full on his chest. + +"Back! monsieur," said the man. "What do you want there? For five or +six days you have been roaming about the neighborhood. Are you a spy?" + +"Are you Monsieur Ferragus?" said the baron. + +"No, monsieur." + +"Nevertheless," continued Auguste, "it is to you that I must return +this paper which you dropped in the gateway beneath which we both took +refuge from the rain." + +While speaking and offering the letter to the man, Auguste did not +refrain from casting an eye around the room where Ferragus received +him. It was very well arranged, though simply. A fire burned on the +hearth; and near it was a table with food upon it, which was served +more sumptuously than agreed with the apparent conditions of the man +and the poorness of his lodging. On a sofa in the next room, which he +could see through the doorway, lay a heap of gold, and he heard a +sound which could be no other than that of a woman weeping. + +"The paper belongs to me; I am much obliged to you," said the +mysterious man, turning away as if to make the baron understand that +he must go. + +Too curious himself to take much note of the deep examination of which +he was himself the object, Auguste did not see the half-magnetic +glance with which this strange being seemed to pierce him; had he +encountered that basilisk eye he might have felt the danger that +encompassed him. Too passionately excited to think of himself, Auguste +bowed, went down the stairs, and returned home, striving to find a +meaning in the connection of these three persons,--Ida, Ferragus, and +Madame Jules; an occupation equivalent to that of trying to arrange +the many-cornered bits of a Chinese puzzle without possessing the key +to the game. But Madame Jules had seen him, Madame Jules went there, +Madame Jules had lied to him. Maulincour determined to go and see her +the next day. She could not refuse his visit, for he was now her +accomplice; he was hands and feet in the mysterious affair, and she +knew it. Already he felt himself a sultan, and thought of demanding +from Madame Jules, imperiously, all her secrets. + +In those days Paris was seized with a building-fever. If Paris is a +monster, it is certainly a most mania-ridden monster. It becomes +enamored of a thousand fancies: sometimes it has a mania for building, +like a great seigneur who loves a trowel; soon it abandons the trowel +and becomes all military; it arrays itself from head to foot as a +national guard, and drills and smokes; suddenly, it abandons military +manoeuvres and flings away cigars; it is commercial, care-worn, falls +into bankruptcy, sells its furniture on the place de Chatelet, files +its schedule; but a few days later, lo! it has arranged its affairs +and is giving fetes and dances. One day it eats barley-sugar by the +mouthful, by the handful; yesterday it bought "papier Weymen"; to-day +the monster's teeth ache, and it applies to its walls an +alexipharmatic to mitigate their dampness; to-morrow it will lay in a +provision of pectoral paste. It has its manias for the month, for the +season, for the year, like its manias of a day. + +So, at the moment of which we speak, all the world was building or +pulling down something,--people hardly knew what as yet. There were +very few streets in which high scaffoldings on long poles could not be +seen, fastened from floor to floor with transverse blocks inserted +into holes in the walls on which the planks were laid,--a frail +construction, shaken by the brick-layers, but held together by ropes, +white with plaster, and insecurely protected from the wheels of +carriages by the breastwork of planks which the law requires round all +such buildings. There is something maritime in these masts, and +ladders, and cordage, even in the shouts of the masons. About a dozen +yards from the hotel Maulincour, one of these ephemeral barriers was +erected before a house which was then being built of blocks of free- +stone. The day after the event we have just related, at the moment +when the Baron de Maulincour was passing this scaffolding in his +cabriolet on his way to see Madame Jules, a stone, two feet square, +which was being raised to the upper storey of this building, got loose +from the ropes and fell, crushing the baron's servant who was behind +the cabriolet. A cry of horror shook both the scaffold and the masons; +one of them, apparently unable to keep his grasp on a pole, was in +danger of death, and seemed to have been touched by the stone as it +passed him. + +A crowd collected rapidly; the masons came down the ladders swearing +and insisting that Monsieur de Maulincour's cabriolet had been driven +against the boarding and so had shaken their crane. Two inches more +and the stone would have fallen on the baron's head. The groom was +dead, the carriage shattered. 'Twas an event for the whole +neighborhood, the newspapers told of it. Monsieur de Maulincour, +certain that he had not touched the boarding, complained; the case +went to court. Inquiry being made, it was shown that a small boy, +armed with a lath, had mounted guard and called to all foot-passengers +to keep away. The affair ended there. Monsieur de Maulincour obtained +no redress. He had lost his servant, and was confined to his bed for +some days, for the back of the carriage when shattered had bruised him +severely, and the nervous shock of the sudden surprise gave him a +fever. He did not, therefore, go to see Madame Jules. + +Ten days after this event, he left the house for the first time, in +his repaired cabriolet, when, as he drove down the rue de Bourgogne +and was close to the sewer opposite to the Chamber of Deputies, the +axle-tree broke in two, and the baron was driving so rapidly that the +breakage would have caused the two wheels to come together with force +enough to break his head, had it not been for the resistance of the +leather hood. Nevertheless, he was badly wounded in the side. For the +second time in ten days he was carried home in a fainting condition to +his terrified grandmother. This second accident gave him a feeling of +distrust; he thought, though vaguely, of Ferragus and Madame Jules. To +throw light on these suspicions he had the broken axle brought to his +room and sent for his carriage-maker. The man examined the axle and +the fracture, and proved two things: First, the axle was not made in +his workshop; he furnished none that did not bear the initials of his +name on the iron. But he could not explain by what means this axle had +been substituted for the other. Secondly, the breakage of the +suspicious axle was caused by a hollow space having been blown in it +and a straw very cleverly inserted. + +"Eh! Monsieur le baron, whoever did that was malicious!" he said; "any +one would swear, to look at it, that the axle was sound." + +Monsieur de Maulincour begged the carriage-maker to say nothing of the +affair; but he felt himself warned. These two attempts at murder were +planned with an ability which denoted the enmity of intelligent minds. + +"It is war to the death," he said to himself, as he tossed in his bed, +--"a war of savages, skulking in ambush, of trickery and treachery, +declared in the name of Madame Jules. What sort of man is this to whom +she belongs? What species of power does this Ferragus wield?" + +Monsieur de Maulincour, though a soldier and brave man, could not +repress a shudder. In the midst of many thoughts that now assailed +him, there was one against which he felt he had neither defence nor +courage: might not poison be employed ere long by his secret enemies? +Under the influence of fears, which his momentary weakness and fever +and low diet increased, he sent for an old woman long attached to the +service of his grandmother, whose affection for himself was one of +those semi-maternal sentiments which are the sublime of the +commonplace. Without confiding in her wholly, he charged her to buy +secretly and daily, in different localities, the food he needed; +telling her to keep it under lock and key and bring it to him herself, +not allowing any one, no matter who, to approach her while preparing +it. He took the most minute precautions to protect himself against +that form of death. He was ill in his bed and alone, and he had +therefore the leisure to think of his own security,--the one necessity +clear-sighted enough to enable human egotism to forget nothing! + +But the unfortunate man had poisoned his own life by this dread, and, +in spite of himself, suspicion dyed all his hours with its gloomy +tints. These two lessons of attempted assassination did teach him, +however, the value of one of the virtues most necessary to a public +man; he saw the wise dissimulation that must be practised in dealing +with the great interests of life. To be silent about our own secret is +nothing; but to be silent from the start, to forget a fact as Ali +Pacha did for thirty years in order to be sure of a vengeance waited +for for thirty years, is a fine study in a land where there are few +men who can keep their own counsel for thirty days. Monsieur de +Maulincour literally lived only through Madame Jules. He was +perpetually absorbed in a sober examination into the means he ought to +employ to triumph in this mysterious struggle with these mysterious +persons. His secret passion for that woman grew by reason of all these +obstacles. Madame Jules was ever there, erect, in the midst of his +thoughts, in the centre of his heart, more seductive by her presumable +vices than by the positive virtues for which he had made her his idol. + +At last, anxious to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, he thought +he might without danger initiate the vidame into the secrets of his +situation. The old commander loved Auguste as a father loves his +wife's children; he was shrewd, dexterous, and very diplomatic. He +listened to the baron, shook his head, and they both held counsel. The +worthy vidame did not share his young friend's confidence when Auguste +declared that in the time in which they now lived, the police and the +government were able to lay bare all mysteries, and that if it were +absolutely necessary to have recourse to those powers, he should find +them most powerful auxiliaries. + +The old man replied, gravely: "The police, my dear boy, is the most +incompetent thing on this earth, and government the feeblest in all +matters concerning individuals. Neither the police nor the government +can read hearts. What we might reasonably ask of them is to search for +the causes of an act. But the police and the government are both +eminently unfitted for that; they lack, essentially, the personal +interest which reveals all to him who wants to know all. No human +power can prevent an assassin or a poisoner from reaching the heart of +a prince or the stomach of an honest man. Passions are the best +police." + +The vidame strongly advised the baron to go to Italy, and from Italy +to Greece, from Greece to Syria, from Syria to Asia, and not to return +until his secret enemies were convinced of his repentance, and would +so make tacit peace with him. But if he did not take that course, then +the vidame advised him to stay in the house, and even in his own room, +where he would be safe from the attempts of this man Ferragus, and not +to leave it until he could be certain of crushing him. + +"We should never touch an enemy until we can be sure of taking his +head off," he said, gravely. + +The old man, however, promised his favorite to employ all the +astuteness with which Heaven had provided him (without compromising +any one) in reconnoitring the enemy's ground, and laying his plans for +future victory. The Commander had in his service a retired Figaro, the +wiliest monkey that ever walked in human form; in earlier days as +clever as a devil, working his body like a galley-slave, alert as a +thief, sly as a woman, but now fallen into the decadence of genius for +want of practice since the new constitution of Parisian society, which +has reformed even the valets of comedy. This Scapin emeritus was +attached to his master as to a superior being; but the shrewd old +vidame added a good round sum yearly to the wages of his former +provost of gallantry, which strengthened the ties of natural affection +by the bonds of self-interest, and obtained for the old gentleman as +much care as the most loving mistress could bestow on a sick friend. +It was this pearl of the old-fashioned comedy-valets, relic of the +last century, auxiliary incorruptible from lack of passions to +satisfy, on whom the old vidame and Monsieur de Maulincour now relied. + +"Monsieur le baron will spoil all," said the great man in livery, when +called into counsel. "Monsieur should eat, drink, and sleep in peace. +I take the whole matter upon myself." + +Accordingly, eight days after the conference, when Monsieur de +Maulincour, perfectly restored to health, was breakfasting with his +grandmother and the vidame, Justin entered to make his report. As soon +as the dowager had returned to her own apartments he said, with that +mock modesty which men of talent are so apt to affect:-- + +"Ferragus is not the name of the enemy who is pursuing Monsieur le +baron. This man--this devil, rather--is called Gratien, Henri, Victor, +Jean-Joseph Bourignard. The Sieur Gratien Bourignard is a former ship- +builder, once very rich, and, above all, one of the handsomest men of +his day in Paris,--a Lovelace, capable of seducing Grandison. My +information stops short there. He has been a simple workman; and the +Companions of the Order of the Devorants did, at one time, elect him +as their chief, under the title of Ferragus XXIII. The police ought to +know that, if the police were instituted to know anything. The man has +moved from the rue des Vieux-Augustins, and now roosts rue Joquelet, +where Madame Jules Desmarets goes frequently to see him; sometimes her +husband, on his way to the Bourse, drives her as far as the rue +Vivienne, or she drives her husband to the Bourse. Monsieur le vidame +knows about these things too well to want me to tell him if it is the +husband who takes the wife, or the wife who takes the husband; but +Madame Jules is so pretty, I'd bet on her. All that I have told you is +positive. Bourignard often plays at number 129. Saving your presence, +monsieur, he's a rogue who loves women, and he has his little ways +like a man of condition. As for the rest, he wins sometimes, disguises +himself like an actor, paints his face to look like anything he +chooses, and lives, I may say, the most original life in the world. I +don't doubt he has a good many lodgings, for most of the time he +manages to evade what Monsieur le vidame calls 'parliamentary +investigations.' If monsieur wishes, he could be disposed of +honorably, seeing what his habits are. It is always easy to get rid of +a man who loves women. However, this capitalist talks about moving +again. Have Monsieur le vidame and Monsieur le baron any other +commands to give me?" + +"Justin, I am satisfied with you; don't go any farther in the matter +without my orders, but keep a close watch here, so that Monsieur le +baron may have nothing to fear." + +"My dear boy," continued the vidame, when they were alone, "go back to +your old life, and forget Madame Jules." + +"No, no," said Auguste; "I will never yield to Gratien Bourignard. I +will have him bound hand and foot, and Madame Jules also." + +That evening the Baron Auguste de Maulincour, recently promoted to +higher rank in the company of the Body-Guard of the king, went to a +ball given by Madame la Duchesse de Berry at the Elysee-Bourbon. +There, certainly, no danger could lurk for him; and yet, before he +left the palace, he had an affair of honor on his hands,--an affair it +was impossible to settle except by a duel. + +His adversary, the Marquis de Ronquerolles, considered that he had +strong reasons to complain of Monsieur de Maulincour, who had given +some ground for it during his former intimacy with Monsieur de +Ronquerolles' sister, the Comtesse de Serizy. That lady, the one who +detested German sentimentality, was all the more exacting in the +matter of prudery. By one of those inexplicable fatalities, Auguste +now uttered a harmless jest which Madame de Serizy took amiss, and her +brother resented it. The discussion took place in the corner of a +room, in a low voice. In good society, adversaries never raise their +voices. The next day the faubourg Saint-Germain and the Chateau talked +over the affair. Madame de Serizy was warmly defended, and all the +blame was laid on Maulincour. August personages interfered. Seconds of +the highest distinction were imposed on Messieurs de Maulincour and de +Ronquerolles and every precaution was taken on the ground that no one +should be killed. + +When Auguste found himself face to face with his antagonist, a man of +pleasure, to whom no one could possibly deny sentiments of the highest +honor, he felt it was impossible to believe him the instrument of +Ferragus, chief of the Devorants; and yet he was compelled, as it +were, by an inexplicable presentiment, to question the marquis. + +"Messieurs," he said to the seconds, "I certainly do not refuse to +meet the fire of Monsieur de Ronquerolles; but before doing so, I here +declare that I was to blame, and I offer him whatever excuses he may +desire, and publicly if he wishes it; because when the matter concerns +a woman, nothing, I think, can degrade a man of honor. I therefore +appeal to his generosity and good sense; is there not something rather +silly in fighting without a cause?" + +Monsieur de Ronquerolles would not allow of this way of ending the +affair, and then the baron, his suspicions revived, walked up to him. + +"Well, then! Monsieur le marquis," he said, "pledge me, in presence of +these gentlemen, your word as a gentleman that you have no other +reason for vengeance than that you have chosen to put forward." + +"Monsieur, that is a question you have no right to ask." + +So saying, Monsieur de Ronquerolles took his place. It was agreed, in +advance, that the adversaries were to be satisfied with one exchange +of shots. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, in spite of the great distance +determined by the seconds, which seemed to make the death of either +party problematical, if not impossible, brought down the baron. The +ball went through the latter's body just below the heart, but +fortunately without doing vital injury. + +"You aimed too well, monsieur," said the baron, "to be avenging only a +paltry quarrel." + +And he fainted. Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who believed him to be a +dead man, smiled sardonically as he heard those words. + +After a fortnight, during which time the dowager and the vidame gave +him those cares of old age the secret of which is in the hands of long +experience only, the baron began to return to life. But one morning +his grandmother dealt him a crushing blow, by revealing anxieties to +which, in her last days, she was now subjected. She showed him a +letter signed F, in which the history of her grandson's secret +espionage was recounted step by step. The letter accused Monsieur de +Maulincour of actions that were unworthy of a man of honor. He had, it +said, placed an old woman at the stand of hackney-coaches in the rue +de Menars; an old spy, who pretended to sell water from her cask to +the coachmen, but who was really there to watch the actions of Madame +Jules Desmarets. He had spied upon the daily life of a most +inoffensive man, in order to detect his secrets,--secrets on which +depended the lives of three persons. He had brought upon himself a +relentless struggle, in which, although he had escaped with life three +times, he must inevitably succumb, because his death had been sworn +and would be compassed if all human means were employed upon it. +Monsieur de Maulincour could no longer escape his fate by even +promising to respect the mysterious life of these three persons, +because it was impossible to believe the word of a gentleman who had +fallen to the level of a police-spy; and for what reason? Merely to +trouble the respectable life of an innocent woman and a harmless old +man. + +The letter itself was nothing to Auguste in comparison to the tender +reproaches of his grandmother. To lack respect to a woman! to spy upon +her actions without a right to do so! Ought a man ever to spy upon a +woman whom he loved?--in short, she poured out a torrent of those +excellent reasons which prove nothing; and they put the young baron, +for the first time in his life, into one of those great human furies +in which are born, and from which issue the most vital actions of a +man's life. + +"Since it is war to the knife," he said in conclusion, "I shall kill +my enemy by any means that I can lay hold of." + +The vidame went immediately, at Auguste's request, to the chief of the +private police of Paris, and without bringing Madame Jules' name or +person into the narrative, although they were really the gist of it, +he made the official aware of the fears of the family of Maulincour +about this mysterious person who was bold enough to swear the death of +an officer of the Guards, in defiance of the law and the police. The +chief pushed up his green spectacles in amazement, blew his nose +several times, and offered snuff to the vidame, who, to save his +dignity, pretended not to use tobacco, although his own nose was +discolored with it. Then the chief took notes and promised, Vidocq and +his spies aiding, to send in a report within a few days to the +Maulincour family, assuring them meantime that there were no secrets +for the police of Paris. + +A few days after this the police official called to see the vidame at +the Hotel de Maulincour, where he found the young baron quite +recovered from his last wound. He gave them in bureaucratic style his +thanks for the indications they had afforded him, and told them that +Bourignard was a convict, condemned to twenty years' hard labor, who +had miraculously escaped from a gang which was being transported from +Bicetre to Toulon. For thirteen years the police had been endeavoring +to recapture him, knowing that he had boldly returned to Paris; but so +far this convict had escaped the most active search, although he was +known to be mixed up in many nefarious deeds. However, the man, whose +life was full of very curious incidents, would certainly be captured +now in one or other of his several domiciles and delivered up to +justice. The bureaucrat ended his report by saying to Monsieur de +Maulincour that if he attached enough importance to the matter to wish +to witness the capture of Bourignard, he might come the next day at +eight in the morning to a house in the rue Sainte-Foi, of which he +gave him the number. Monsieur de Maulincour excused himself from going +personally in search of certainty,--trusting, with the sacred respect +inspired by the police of Paris, in the capability of the authorities. + +Three days later, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing in the +newspapers about the projected arrest, which was certainly of enough +importance to have furnished an article, Monsieur de Maulincour was +beginning to feel anxieties which were presently allayed by the +following letter:-- + + Monsieur le Baron,--I have the honor to announce to you that you + need have no further uneasiness touching the affair in question. + The man named Gratien Bourignard, otherwise called Ferragus, died + yesterday, at his lodgings, rue Joquelet No. 7. The suspicions we + naturally conceived as to the identity of the dead body have been + completely set at rest by the facts. The physician of the + Prefecture of police was despatched by us to assist the physician + of the arrondissement, and the chief of the detective police made + all the necessary verifications to obtain absolute certainty. + Moreover, the character of the persons who signed the certificate + of death, and the affidavits of those who took care of the said + Bourignard in his last illness, among others that of the worthy + vicar of the church of the Bonne-Nouvelle (to whom he made his + last confession, for he died a Christian), do not permit us to + entertain any sort of doubt. + +Accept, Monsieur le baron, etc., etc. + + +Monsieur de Maulincour, the dowager, and the vidame breathed again +with joy unspeakable. The good old woman kissed her grandson leaving a +tear upon his cheek, and went away to thank God in prayer. The dear +soul, who was making a novena for Auguste's safety, believed her +prayers were answered. + +"Well," said the vidame, "now you had better show yourself at the ball +you were speaking of. I oppose no further objections." + + + + CHAPTER III + + THE WIFE ACCUSED + +Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball +because he knew that Madame Jules would be present. The fete was given +by the Prefect of the Seine, in whose salons the two social worlds of +Paris met as on neutral ground. Auguste passed through the rooms +without finding the woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on +his fate. He entered an empty boudoir where card-tables were placed +awaiting players; and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up to +the most contradictory thoughts about her. A man presently took the +young officer by the arm, and looking up the baron was stupefied to +behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere, the Ferragus of Ida, the +lodger in the rue Soly, the Bourignard of Justin, the convict of the +police, and the dead man of the day before. + +"Monsieur, not a sound, not a word," said Bourignard, whose voice he +recognized. The man was elegantly dressed; he wore the order of the +Golden-Fleece, and a medal on his coat. "Monsieur," he continued, and +his voice was sibilant like that of a hyena, "you increase my efforts +against you by having recourse to the police. You will perish, +monsieur; it has now become necessary. Do you love Madame Jules? Are +you beloved by her? By what right do you trouble her peaceful life, +and blacken her virtue?" + +Some one entered the card-room. Ferragus rose to go. + +"Do you know this man?" asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new-comer, +seizing Ferragus by the collar. But Ferragus quickly disengaged +himself, took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair, and shook his head +rapidly. + +"Must you have lead in it to make it steady?" he said. + +"I do not know him personally," replied Henri de Marsay, the spectator +of this scene, "but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal, a rich +Portuguese." + +Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared. The baron followed but without +being able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle, where he +saw Ferragus, who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant +equipage which was driven away at high speed. + +"Monsieur," said Auguste, re-entering the salon and addressing de +Marsay, whom he knew, "I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de +Funcal lives." + +"I do not know; but some one here can no doubt tell you." + +The baron, having questioned the prefect, ascertained that the Comte +de Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy. At this moment, while he +still felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair, he saw +Madame Jules in all her dazzling beauty, fresh, gracious, artless, +resplendent with the sanctity of womanhood which had won his love. +This creature, now infernal to him, excited no emotion in his soul but +that of hatred; and this hatred shone in a savage, terrible look from +his eyes. He watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard, +and then he said:-- + +"Madame, your /bravi/ have missed me three times." + +"What do you mean, monsieur?" she said, flushing. "I know that you +have had several unfortunate accidents lately, which I have greatly +regretted; but how could I have had anything to do with them?" + +"You knew that /bravi/ were employed against me by that man of the rue +Soly?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Madame, I now call you to account, not for my happiness only, but for +my blood--" + +At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them. + +"What are you saying to my wife, monsieur?" + +"Make that inquiry at my own house, monsieur, if you are curious," +said Maulincour, moving away, and leaving Madame Jules in an almost +fainting condition. + +There are few women who have not found themselves, once at least in +their lives, /a propos/ of some undeniable fact, confronted with a +direct, sharp, uncompromising question,--one of those questions +pitilessly asked by husbands, the mere apprehension of which gives a +chill, while the actual words enter the heart like the blade of a +dagger. It is from such crises that the maxim has come, "All women +lie." Falsehood, kindly falsehood, venial falsehood, sublime +falsehood, horrible falsehood,--but always the necessity to lie. This +necessity admitted, ought they not to know how to lie well? French +women do it admirably. Our manners and customs teach them deception! +Besides, women are so naively saucy, so pretty, graceful, and withal +so true in lying,--they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in +order to avoid in social life the violent shocks which happiness might +not resist,--that lying is seen to be as necessary to their lives as +the cotton-wool in which they put away their jewels. Falsehood becomes +to them the foundation of speech; truth is exceptional; they tell it, +if they are virtuous, by caprice or by calculation. According to +individual character, some women laugh when they lie; others weep; +others are grave; some grow angry. After beginning life by feigning +indifference to the homage that deeply flatters them, they often end +by lying to themselves. Who has not admired their apparent superiority +to everything at the very moment when they are trembling for the +secret treasures of their love? Who has never studied their ease, +their readiness, their freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments +of life? In them, nothing is put on. Deception comes as the snow from +heaven. And then, with what art they discover the truth in others! +With what shrewdness they employ a direct logic in answer to some +passionate question which has revealed to them the secret of the heart +of a man who was guileless enough to proceed by questioning! To +question a woman! why, that is delivering one's self up to her; does +she not learn in that way all that we seek to hide from her? Does she +not know also how to be dumb, through speaking? What men are daring +enough to struggle with the Parisian woman?--a woman who knows how to +hold herself above all dagger thrusts, saying: "You are very +inquisitive; what is it to you? Why do you wish to know? Ah! you are +jealous! And suppose I do not choose to answer you?"--in short, a +woman who possesses the hundred and thirty-seven methods of saying +/No/, and incommensurable variations of the word /Yes/. Is not a +treatise on the words /yes/ and /no/, a fine diplomatic, philosophic, +logographic, and moral work, still waiting to be written? But to +accomplish this work, which we may also call diabolic, isn't an +androgynous genius necessary? For that reason, probably, it will never +be attempted. And besides, of all unpublished works isn't it the best +known and the best practised among women? Have you studied the +behavior, the pose, the /disinvoltura/ of a falsehood? Examine it. + +Madame Desmarets was seated in the right-hand corner of her carriage, +her husband in the left. Having forced herself to recover from her +emotion in the ballroom, she now affected a calm demeanor. Her husband +had then said nothing to her, and he still said nothing. Jules looked +out of the carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses +before which they passed; but suddenly, as if driven by a determining +thought, when turning the corner of a street he examined his wife, who +appeared to be cold in spite of the fur-lined pelisse in which she was +wrapped. He thought she seemed pensive, and perhaps she really was so. +Of all communicable things, reflection and gravity are the most +contagious. + +"What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly?" +said Jules; "and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out?" + +"He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here," +she replied. + +Then, with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue, +Madame Jules waited for another question. Her husband turned his face +back to the houses, and continued his study of their walls. Another +question would imply suspicion, distrust. To suspect a woman is a +crime in love. Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife. +Clemence did not know all there was of true passion, of loyal +reflection, in her husband's silence; just as Jules was ignorant of +the generous drama that was wringing the heart of his Clemence. + +The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris, bearing the couple,-- +two lovers who adored each other, and who, gently leaning on the same +silken cushion, were being parted by an abyss. In these elegant coupes +returning from a ball between midnight and two in the morning, how +many curious and singular scenes must pass,--meaning those coupes with +lanterns, which light both the street and the carriage, those with +their windows unshaded; in short, legitimate coupes, in which couples +can quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians, because the +civil code gives a right to provoke, or beat, or kiss, a wife in a +carriage or elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere! How many secrets must be +revealed in this way to nocturnal pedestrians,--to those young fellows +who have gone to a ball in a carriage, but are obliged, for whatever +cause it may be, to return on foot. It was the first time that Jules +and Clemence had been together thus,--each in a corner; usually the +husband pressed close to his wife. + +"It is very cold," remarked Madame Jules. + +But her husband did not hear her; he was studying the signs above the +shop windows. + +"Clemence," he said at last, "forgive me the question I am about to +ask you." + +He came closer, took her by the waist, and drew her to him. + +"My God, it is coming!" thought the poor woman. "Well," she said +aloud, anticipating the question, "you want to know what Monsieur de +Maulincour said to me. I will tell you, Jules; but not without fear. +Good God! how is it possible that you and I should have secrets from +one another? For the last few moments I have seen you struggling +between a conviction of our love and vague fears. But that conviction +is clear within us, is it not? And these doubts and fears, do they not +seem to you dark and unnatural? Why not stay in that clear light of +love you cannot doubt? When I have told you all, you will still desire +to know more; and yet I myself do not know what the extraordinary +words of that man meant. What I fear is that this may lead to some +fatal affair between you. I would rather that we both forget this +unpleasant moment. But, in any case, swear to me that you will let +this singular adventure explain itself naturally. Here are the facts. +Monsieur de Maulincour declared to me that the three accidents you +have heard mentioned--the falling of a stone on his servant, the +breaking down of his cabriolet, and his duel about Madame de Serizy-- +were the result of some plot I had laid against him. He also +threatened to reveal to you the cause of my desire to destroy him. Can +you imagine what all this means? My emotion came from the sight of his +face convulsed with madness, his haggard eyes, and also his words, +broken by some violent inward emotion. I thought him mad. That is all +that took place. Now, I should be less than a woman if I had not +perceived that for over a year I have become, as they call it, the +passion of Monsieur de Maulincour. He has never seen me except at a +ball; and our intercourse has been most insignificant,--merely that +which every one shares at a ball. Perhaps he wants to disunite us, so +that he may find me at some future time alone and unprotected. There, +see! already you are frowning! Oh, how cordially I hate society! We +were so happy without him; why take any notice of him? Jules, I +entreat you, forget all this! To-morrow we shall, no doubt, hear that +Monsieur de Maulincour has gone mad." + +"What a singular affair!" thought Jules, as the carriage stopped under +the peristyle of their house. He gave his arm to his wife and together +they went up to their apartments. + +To develop this history in all its truth of detail, and to follow its +course through many windings, it is necessary here to divulge some of +love's secrets, to glide beneath the ceilings of a marriage chamber, +not shamelessly, but like Trilby, frightening neither Dougal nor +Jeannie, alarming no one,--being as chaste as our noble French +language requires, and as bold as the pencil of Gerard in his picture +of Daphnis and Chloe. + +The bedroom of Madame Jules was a sacred plot. Herself, her husband, +and her maid alone entered it. Opulence has glorious privileges, and +the most enviable are those which enable the development of sentiments +to their fullest extent,--fertilizing them by the accomplishment of +even their caprices, and surrounding them with a brilliancy that +enlarges them, with refinements that purify them, with a thousand +delicacies that make them still more alluring. If you hate dinners on +the grass, and meals ill-served, if you feel a pleasure in seeing a +damask cloth that is dazzlingly white, a silver-gilt dinner service, +and porcelain of exquisite purity, lighted by transparent candles, +where miracles of cookery are served under silver covers bearing coats +of arms, you must, to be consistent, leave the garrets at the tops of +the houses, and the grisettes in the streets, abandon garrets, +grisettes, umbrellas, and overshoes to men who pay for their dinners +with tickets; and you must also comprehend Love to be a principle +which develops in all its grace only on Savonnerie carpets, beneath +the opal gleams of an alabaster lamp, between guarded walls silk-hung, +before gilded hearths in chambers deadened to all outward sounds by +shutters and billowy curtains. Mirrors must be there to show the play +of form and repeat the woman we would multiply as love itself +multiplies and magnifies her; next low divans, and a bed which, like a +secret, is divined, not shown. In this coquettish chamber are fur- +lined slippers for pretty feet, wax-candles under glass with muslin +draperies, by which to read at all hours of the night, and flowers, +not those oppressive to the head, and linen, the fineness of which +might have satisfied Anne of Austria. + +Madame Jules had realized this charming programme, but that was +nothing. All women of taste can do as much, though there is always in +the arrangement of these details a stamp of personality which gives to +this decoration or that detail a character that cannot be imitated. +To-day, more than ever, reigns the fanaticism of individuality. The +more our laws tend to an impossible equality, the more we shall get +away from it in our manners and customs. Thus, rich people are +beginning, in France, to become more exclusive in their tastes and +their belongings, than they have been for the last thirty years. +Madame Jules knew very well how to carry out this programme; and +everything about her was arranged in harmony with a luxury that suits +so well with love. Love in a cottage, or "Fifteen hundred francs and +my Sophy," is the dream of starvelings to whom black bread suffices in +their present state; but when love really comes, they grow fastidious +and end by craving the luxuries of gastronomy. Love holds toil and +poverty in horror. It would rather die than merely live on from hand +to mouth. + +Many women, returning from a ball, impatient for their beds, throw off +their gowns, their faded flowers, their bouquets, the fragrance of +which has now departed. They leave their little shoes beneath a chair, +the white strings trailing; they take out their combs and let their +hair roll down as it will. Little they care if their husbands see the +puffs, the hairpins, the artful props which supported the elegant +edifices of the hair, and the garlands or the jewels that adorned it. +No more mysteries! all is over for the husband; no more painting or +decoration for him. The corset--half the time it is a corset of a +reparative kind--lies where it is thrown, if the maid is too sleepy to +take it away with her. The whalebone bustle, the oiled-silk +protections round the sleeves, the pads, the hair bought from a +coiffeur, all the false woman is there, scattered about in open sight. +/Disjecta membra poetae/, the artificial poesy, so much admired by +those for whom it is conceived and elaborated, the fragments of a +pretty woman, litter every corner of the room. To the love of a +yawning husband, the actual presents herself, also yawning, in a +dishabille without elegance, and a tumbled night-cap, that of last +night and that of to-morrow night also,--"For really, monsieur, if you +want a pretty cap to rumple every night, increase my pin-money." + +There's life as it is! A woman makes herself old and unpleasing to her +husband; but dainty and elegant and adorned for others, for the rival +of all husbands,--for that world which calumniates and tears to shreds +her sex. + +Inspired by true love, for Love has, like other creations, its +instinct of preservation, Madame Jules did very differently; she found +in the constant blessing of her love the necessary impulse to fulfil +all those minute personal cares which ought never to be relaxed, +because they perpetuate love. Besides, such personal cares and duties +proceed from a personal dignity which becomes all women, and are among +the sweetest of flatteries, for is it not respecting in themselves the +man they love? + +So Madame Jules denied to her husband all access to her dressing-room, +where she left the accessories of her toilet, and whence she issued +mysteriously adorned for the mysterious fetes of her heart. Entering +their chamber, which was always graceful and elegant, Jules found a +woman coquettishly wrapped in a charming /peignoir/, her hair simply +wound in heavy coils around her head; a woman always more simple, more +beautiful there than she was before the world; a woman just refreshed +in water, whose only artifice consisted in being whiter than her +muslins, sweeter than all perfumes, more seductive than any siren, +always loving and therefore always loved. This admirable understanding +of a wife's business was the secret of Josephine's charm for Napoleon, +as in former times it was that of Caesonia for Caius Caligula, of +Diane de Poitiers for Henri II. If it was largely productive to women +of seven or eight lustres what a weapon is it in the hands of young +women! A husband gathers with delight the rewards of his fidelity. + +Returning home after the conversation which had chilled her with fear, +and still gave her the keenest anxiety, Madame Jules took particular +pains with her toilet for the night. She wanted to make herself, and +she did make herself enchanting. She belted the cambric of her +dressing-gown round her waist, defining the lines of her bust; she +allowed her hair to fall upon her beautifully modelled shoulders. A +perfumed bath had given her a delightful fragrance, and her little +bare feet were in velvet slippers. Strong in a sense of her advantages +she came in stepping softly, and put her hands over her husband's +eyes. She thought him pensive; he was standing in his dressing-gown +before the fire, his elbow on the mantel and one foot on the fender. +She said in his ear, warming it with her breath, and nibbling the tip +of it with her teeth:-- + +"What are you thinking about, monsieur?" + +Then she pressed him in her arms as if to tear him away from all evil +thoughts. The woman who loves has a full knowledge of her power; the +more virtuous she is, the more effectual her coquetry. + +"About you," he answered. + +"Only about me?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! that's a very doubtful 'yes.'" + +They went to bed. As she fell asleep, Madame Jules said to herself:-- + +"Monsieur de Maulincour will certainly cause some evil. Jules' mind is +preoccupied, disturbed; he is nursing thoughts he does not tell me." + +It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a +presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both +physical and moral of her husband's absence. She did not feel the arm +Jules passed beneath her head,--that arm in which she had slept, +peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A +voice said to her, "Jules suffers, Jules is weeping." She raised her +head, and then sat up; felt that her husband's place was cold, and saw +him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting +against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor +woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her +husband's knees. + +"Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you +love me!" and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest +tenderness. + +Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with +fresh tears:-- + +"Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the +one we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to +me to-night have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of +myself, and confound me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I +blush to say it, your explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts +gleams into my soul which my love rejects. It is an awful combat. +Could I stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within +it to me unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!" he cried, +seeing her smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. "Say +nothing; do not reproach me. Besides, could you say anything I have +not said myself for the last three hours? Yes, for three hours, I have +been here, watching you as you slept, so beautiful! admiring that +pure, peaceful brow. Yes, yes! you have always told me your thoughts, +have you not? I alone am in that soul. While I look at you, while my +eyes can plunge into yours I see all plainly. Your life is as pure as +your glance is clear. No, there is no secret behind those transparent +eyes." He rose and kissed their lids. "Let me avow to you, dearest +soul," he said, "that for the last five years each day has increased +my happiness, through the knowledge that you are all mine, and that no +natural affection even can take any of your love. Having no sister, no +father, no mother, no companion, I am neither above nor below any +living being in your heart; I am alone there. Clemence, repeat to me +those sweet things of the spirit you have so often said to me; do not +blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I have an odious suspicion on +my conscience, and you have nothing in your heart to sear it. My +beloved, tell me, could I stay there beside you? Could two heads +united as ours have been lie on the same pillow when one was suffering +and the other tranquil? What are you thinking of?" he cried abruptly, +observing that Clemence was anxious, confused, and seemed unable to +restrain her tears. + +"I am thinking of my mother," she answered, in a grave voice. "You +will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother's dying +farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the +solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with +those assurances of your precious love." + +She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force +greater than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears. + +"Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you +happy; that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women +to you. Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don't +know the meaning of those words 'duty,' 'virtue.' Jules, I love you +for yourself; I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more +to my dying day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to +have one sole emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is +dreadful, I know--but I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for +any. I feel I am more wife than mother. Well, then, can you fear? +Listen to me, my own beloved, promise to forget, not this hour of +mingled tenderness and doubt, but the words of that madman. Jules, you +/must/. Promise me not to see him, not to go to him. I have a deep +conviction that if you set one foot in that maze we shall both roll +down a precipice where I shall perish--but with your name upon my +lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high in that heart and +yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so many as to +money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the first +occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless trust, +do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman and me, +it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!" She stopped, +threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and then, in a +heart-rending tone, she added: "I have said too much; one word should +suffice. If your soul and your forehead still keep this cloud, however +light it be, I tell you now that I shall die of it." + +She could not repress a shudder, and turned pale. + +"Oh! I will kill that man," thought Jules, as he lifted his wife in +his arms and carried her to her bed. + +"Let us sleep in peace, my angel," he said. "I have forgotten all, I +swear it!" + +Clemence fell asleep to the music of those sweet words, softly +repeated. Jules, as he watched her sleeping, said in his heart:-- + +"She is right; when love is so pure, suspicion blights it. To that +young soul, that tender flower, a blight--yes, a blight means death." + +When a cloud comes between two beings filled with affection for each +other and whose lives are in absolute unison, that cloud, though it +may disperse, leaves in those souls a trace of its passage. Either +love gains a stronger life, as the earth after rain, or the shock +still echoes like distant thunder through a cloudless sky. It is +impossible to recover absolutely the former life; love will either +increase or diminish. + +At breakfast, Monsieur and Madame Jules showed to each other those +particular attentions in which there is always something of +affectation. There were glances of forced gaiety, which seemed the +efforts of persons endeavoring to deceive themselves. Jules had +involuntary doubts, his wife had positive fears. Still, sure of each +other, they had slept. Was this strained condition the effect of a +want of faith, or was it only a memory of their nocturnal scene? They +did not know themselves. But they loved each other so purely that the +impression of that scene, both cruel and beneficent, could not fail to +leave its traces in their souls; both were eager to make those traces +disappear, each striving to be the first to return to the other, and +thus they could not fail to think of the cause of their first +variance. To loving souls, this is not grief; pain is still far-off; +but it is a sort of mourning, which is difficult to depict. If there +are, indeed, relations between colors and the emotions of the soul, +if, as Locke's blind man said, scarlet produces on the sight the +effect produced upon the hearing by a blast of trumpets, it is +permissible to compare this reaction of melancholy to mourning tones +of gray. + +But even so, love saddened, love in which remains a true sentiment of +its happiness, momentarily troubled though it be, gives enjoyments +derived from pain and pleasure both, which are all novel. Jules +studied his wife's voice; he watched her glances with the freshness of +feeling that inspired him in the earliest days of his passion for her. +The memory of five absolutely happy years, her beauty, the candor of +her love, quickly effaced in her husband's mind the last vestiges of +an intolerable pain. + +The day was Sunday,--a day on which there was no Bourse and no +business to be done. The reunited pair passed the whole day together, +getting farther into each other's hearts than they ever yet had done, +like two children who in a moment of fear, hold each other closely and +cling together, united by an instinct. There are in this life of two- +in-one completely happy days, the gift of chance, ephemeral flowers, +born neither of yesterday nor belonging to the morrow. Jules and +Clemence now enjoyed this day as though they forboded it to be the +last of their loving life. What name shall we give to that mysterious +power which hastens the steps of travellers before the storm is +visible; which makes the life and beauty of the dying so resplendent, +and fills the parting soul with joyous projects for days before death +comes; which tells the midnight student to fill his lamp when it +shines brightest; and makes the mother fear the thoughtful look cast +upon her infant by an observing man? We all are affected by this +influence in the great catastrophes of life; but it has never yet been +named or studied; it is something more than presentiment, but not as +yet clear vision. + +All went well till the following day. On Monday, Jules Desmarets, +obliged to go to the Bourse on his usual business, asked his wife, as +usual, if she would take advantage of his carriage and let him drive +her anywhere. + +"No," she said, "the day is too unpleasant to go out." + +It was raining in torrents. At half-past two o'clock Monsieur +Desmarets reached the Treasury. At four o'clock, as he left the +Bourse, he came face to face with Monsieur de Maulincour, who was +waiting for him with the nervous pertinacity of hatred and vengeance. + +"Monsieur," he said, taking Monsieur Desmarets by the arm, "I have +important information to give you. Listen to me. I am too loyal a man +to have recourse to anonymous letters with which to trouble your peace +of mind; I prefer to speak to you in person. Believe me, if my very +life were not concerned, I should not meddle with the private affairs +of any household, even if I thought I had the right to do so." + +"If what you have to say to me concerns Madame Desmarets," replied +Jules, "I request you to be silent, monsieur." + +"If I am silent, monsieur, you may before long see Madame Jules on the +prisoner's bench at the court of assizes beside a convict. Now, do you +wish me to be silent?" + +Jules turned pale; but his noble face instantly resumed its calmness, +though it was now a false calmness. Drawing the baron under one of the +temporary sheds of the Bourse, near which they were standing, he said +to him in a voice which concealed his intense inward emotion:-- + +"Monsieur, I will listen to you; but there will be a duel to the death +between us if--" + +"Oh, to that I consent!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour. "I have the +greatest esteem for your character. You speak of death. You are +unaware that your wife may have assisted in poisoning me last Saturday +night. Yes, monsieur, since then some extraordinary evil has developed +in me. My hair appears to distil an inward fever and a deadly languor +through my skull; I know who clutched my hair at that ball." + +Monsieur de Maulincour then related, without omitting a single fact, +his platonic love for Madame Jules, and the details of the affair in +the rue Soly which began this narrative. Any one would have listened +to him with attention; but Madame Jules' husband had good reason to be +more amazed than any other human being. Here his character displayed +itself; he was more amazed than overcome. Made a judge, and the judge +of an adored woman, he found in his soul the equity of a judge as well +as the inflexibility. A lover still, he thought less of his own +shattered life than of his wife's life; he listened, not to his own +anguish, but to some far-off voice that cried to him, "Clemence cannot +lie! Why should she betray you?" + +"Monsieur," said the baron, as he ended, "being absolutely certain of +having recognized in Monsieur de Funcal the same Ferragus whom the +police declared dead, I have put upon his traces an intelligent man. +As I returned that night I remembered, by a fortunate chance, the name +of Madame Meynardie, mentioned in that letter of Ida, the presumed +mistress of my persecutor. Supplied with this clue, my emissary will +soon get to the bottom of this horrible affair; for he is far more +able to discover the truth than the police themselves." + +"Monsieur," replied Desmarets, "I know not how to thank you for this +confidence. You say that you can obtain proofs and witnesses; I shall +await them. I shall seek the truth of this strange affair +courageously; but you must permit me to doubt everything until the +evidence of the facts you state is proved to me. In any case you shall +have satisfaction, for, as you will certainly understand, we both +require it." + +Jules returned home. + +"What is the matter, Jules?" asked his wife, when she saw him. "You +look so pale you frighten me!" + +"The day is cold," he answered, walking with slow steps across the +room where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room +so calm and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering. + +"Did you go out to-day?" he asked, as though mechanically. + +He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of +thoughts which had gathered themselves together into a lucid +meditation, though jealousy was actively prompting them. + +"No," she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid. + +At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room +the velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were +drops of rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of +delicacy. It was repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with +a lie. When such a situation occurs, all has come to an end forever +between certain beings. And yet those drops of rain were like a flash +tearing through his brain. + +He left the room, went down to the porter's lodge, and said to the +porter, after making sure that they were alone:-- + +"Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if +you deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question +and your answer." + +He stopped to examine the man's face, leading him under the window. +Then he continued:-- + +"Did madame go out this morning?" + +"Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in +about half an hour ago." + +"That is true, upon your honor?" + +"Yes, monsieur." + +"You will have the money; but if you speak of this, remember, you will +lose all." + +Jules returned to his wife. + +"Clemence," he said, "I find I must put my accounts in order. Do not +be offended at the inquiry I am going to make. Have I not given you +forty thousand francs since the beginning of the year?" + +"More," she said,--"forty-seven." + +"Have you spent them?" + +"Nearly," she replied. "In the first place, I had to pay several of +our last year's bills--" + +"I shall never find out anything in this way," thought Jules. "I am +not taking the best course." + +At this moment Jules' own valet entered the room with a letter for his +master, who opened it indifferently, but as soon as his eyes had +lighted on the signature he read it eagerly. The letter was as +follows:-- + + Monsieur,--For the sake of your peace of mind as well as ours, I + take the course of writing you this letter without possessing the + advantage of being known to you; but my position, my age, and the + fear of some misfortune compel me to entreat you to show + indulgence in the trying circumstances under which our afflicted + family is placed. Monsieur Auguste de Maulincour has for the last + few days shown signs of mental derangement, and we fear that he + may trouble your happiness by fancies which he confided to + Monsieur le Vidame de Pamiers and myself during his first attack + of frenzy. We think it right, therefore, to warn you of his + malady, which is, we hope, curable; but it will have such serious + and important effects on the honor of our family and the career of + my grandson that we must rely, monsieur, on your entire + discretion. + + If Monsieur le Vidame or I could have gone to see you we would not + have written. But I make no doubt that you will regard this prayer + of a mother, who begs you to destroy this letter. + + Accept the assurance of my perfect consideration. + +Baronne de Maulincour, /nee/ de Rieux. + + +"Oh! what torture!" cried Jules. + +"What is it? what is in your mind?" asked his wife, exhibiting the +deepest anxiety. + +"I have come," he answered, slowly, as he threw her the letter, "to +ask myself whether it can be you who have sent me that to avert my +suspicions. Judge, therefore, what I suffer." + +"Unhappy man!" said Madame Jules, letting fall the paper. "I pity him; +though he has done me great harm." + +"Are you aware that he has spoken to me?" + +"Oh! have you been to see him, in spite of your promise?" she cried in +terror. + +"Clemence, our love is in danger of perishing; we stand outside of the +ordinary rules of life; let us lay aside all petty considerations in +presence of this great peril. Explain to me why you went out this +morning. Women think they have the right to tell us little falsehoods. +Sometimes they like to hide a pleasure they are preparing for us. Just +now you said a word to me, by mistake, no doubt, a no for a yes." + +He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet. + +"See," he said, "your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are +raindrops. You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and +these drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or +left the house where you went. But a woman can leave her own home for +many innocent purposes, even after she has told her husband that she +did not mean to go out. There are so many reasons for changing our +plans! Caprices, whims, are they not your right? Women are not +required to be consistent with themselves. You had forgotten +something,--a service to render, a visit, some kind action. But +nothing hinders a woman from telling her husband what she does. Can we +ever blush on the breast of a friend? It is not a jealous husband who +speaks to you, my Clemence; it is your lover, your friend, your +brother." He flung himself passionately at her feet. "Speak, not to +justify yourself, but to calm my horrible sufferings. I know that you +went out. Well--what did you do? where did you go?" + +"Yes, I went out, Jules," she answered in a strained voice, though her +face was calm. "But ask me nothing more. Wait; have confidence; +without which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse. Jules, my +Jules, trust is the virtue of love. I owe to you that I am at this +moment too troubled to answer you: but I am not a false woman; I love +you, and you know it." + +"In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his +jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine +own self--well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe +that voice, to believe those eyes. If you deceive me, you deserve--" + +"Ten thousand deaths!" she cried, interrupting him. + +"I have never hidden a thought from you, but you--" + +"Hush!" she said, "our happiness depends upon our mutual silence." + +"Ha! I /will/ know all!" he exclaimed, with sudden violence. + +At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,--the yelping of a +shrill little voice came from the antechamber. + +"I tell you I will go in!" it cried. "Yes, I shall go in; I will see +her! I shall see her!" + +Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the +antechamber was violently burst open. A young woman entered hastily, +followed by two servants, who said to their master:-- + +"Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us. We told her that +madame was not at home. She answered that she knew very well madame +had been out, but she saw her come in. She threatened to stay at the +door of the house till she could speak to madame." + +"You can go," said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men. "What do you +want, mademoiselle?" he added, turning to the strange woman. + +This "demoiselle" was the type of a woman who is never to be met with +except in Paris. She is made in Paris, like the mud, like the +pavement, like the water of the Seine, such as it becomes in Paris +before human industry filters it ten times ere it enters the cut-glass +decanters and sparkles pure and bright from the filth it has been. She +is therefore a being who is truly original. Depicted scores of times +by the painter's brush, the pencil of the caricaturist, the charcoal +of the etcher, she still escapes analysis, because she cannot be +caught and rendered in all her moods, like Nature, like this fantastic +Paris itself. She holds to vice by one thread only, and she breaks +away from it at a thousand other points of the social circumference. +Besides, she lets only one trait of her character be known, and that +the only one which renders her blamable; her noble virtues are hidden; +she prefers to glory in her naive libertinism. Most incompletely +rendered in dramas and tales where she is put upon the scene with all +her poesy, she is nowhere really true but in her garret; elsewhere she +is invariably calumniated or over-praised. Rich, she deteriorates; +poor, she is misunderstood. She has too many vices, and too many good +qualities; she is too near to pathetic asphyxiation or to a dissolute +laugh; too beautiful and too hideous. She personifies Paris, to which, +in the long run, she supplies the toothless portresses, washerwomen, +street-sweepers, beggars, occasionally insolent countesses, admired +actresses, applauded singers; she has even given, in the olden time, +two quasi-queens to the monarchy. Who can grasp such a Proteus? She is +all woman, less than woman, more than woman. From this vast portrait +the painter of manners and morals can take but a feature here and +there; the /ensemble/ is infinite. + +She was a grisette of Paris; a grisette in all her glory; a grisette +in a hackney-coach,--happy, young, handsome, fresh, but a grisette; a +grisette with claws, scissors, impudent as a Spanish woman, snarling +as a prudish English woman proclaiming her conjugal rights, coquettish +as a great lady, though more frank, and ready for everything; a +perfect /lionne/ in her way; issuing from the little apartment of +which she had dreamed so often, with its red-calico curtains, its +Utrecht velvet furniture, its tea-table, the cabinet of china with +painted designs, the sofa, the little moquette carpet, the alabaster +clock and candlesticks (under glass cases), the yellow bedroom, the +eider-down quilt,--in short, all the domestic joys of a grisette's +life; and in addition, the woman-of-all-work (a former grisette +herself, now the owner of a moustache), theatre-parties, unlimited +bonbons, silk dresses, bonnets to spoil,--in fact, all the felicities +coveted by the grisette heart except a carriage, which only enters her +imagination as a marshal's baton into the dreams of a soldier. Yes, +this grisette had all these things in return for a true affection, or +in spite of a true affection, as some others obtain it for an hour a +day,--a sort of tax carelessly paid under the claws of an old man. + +The young woman who now entered the presence of Monsieur and Madame +Jules had a pair of feet so little covered by her shoes that only a +slim black line was visible between the carpet and her white +stockings. This peculiar foot-gear, which Parisian caricaturists have +well-rendered, is a special attribute of the grisette of Paris; but +she is even more distinctive to the eyes of an observer by the care +with which her garments are made to adhere to her form, which they +clearly define. On this occasion she was trigly dressed in a green +gown, with a white chemisette, which allowed the beauty of her bust to +be seen; her shawl, of Ternaux cashmere, had fallen from her +shoulders, and was held by its two corners, which were twisted round +her wrists. She had a delicate face, rosy cheeks, a white skin, +sparkling gray eyes, a round, very promising forehead, hair carefully +smoothed beneath her little bonnet, and heavy curls upon her neck. + +"My name is Ida," she said, "and if that's Madame Jules to whom I have +the advantage of speaking, I've come to tell her all I have in my +heart against her. It is very wrong, when a woman is set up and in her +furniture, as you are here, to come and take from a poor girl a man +with whom I'm as good as married, morally, and who did talk of making +it right by marrying me before the municipality. There's plenty of +handsome young men in the world--ain't there, monsieur?--to take your +fancy, without going after a man of middle age, who makes my +happiness. Yah! I haven't got a fine hotel like this, but I've got my +love, I have. I hate handsome men and money; I'm all heart, and--" + +Madame Jules turned to her husband. + +"You will allow me, monsieur, to hear no more of all this," she said, +retreating to her bedroom. + +"If the lady lives with you, I've made a mess of it; but I can't help +that," resumed Ida. "Why does she come after Monsieur Ferragus every +day?" + +"You are mistaken, mademoiselle," said Jules, stupefied; "my wife is +incapable--" + +"Ha! so you're married, you two," said the grisette showing some +surprise. "Then it's very wrong, monsieur,--isn't it?--for a woman who +has the happiness of being married in legal marriage to have relations +with a man like Henri--" + +"Henri! who is Henri?" said Jules, taking Ida by the arm and pulling +her into an adjoining room that his wife might hear no more. + +"Why, Monsieur Ferragus." + +"But he is dead," said Jules. + +"Nonsense; I went to Franconi's with him last night, and he brought me +home--as he ought. Besides, your wife can tell you about him; didn't +she go there this very afternoon at three o'clock? I know she did, for +I waited in the street, and saw her,--all because that good-natured +fellow, Monsieur Justin, whom you know perhaps,--a little old man with +jewelry who wears corsets,--told me that Madame Jules was my rival. +That name, monsieur, sounds mighty like a feigned one; but if it is +yours, excuse me. But this I say, if Madame Jules was a court duchess, +Henri is rich enough to satisfy all her fancies, and it is my business +to protect my property; I've a right to, for I love him, that I do. He +is my /first/ inclination; my happiness and all my future fate depends +on it. I fear nothing, monsieur; I am honest; I never lied, or stole +the property of any living soul, no matter who. If an empress was my +rival, I'd go straight to her, empress as she was; because all pretty +women are equals, monsieur--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. "Where do you live?" + +"Rue de la Corderie-du-Temple, number 14, monsieur,--Ida Gruget, +corset-maker, at your service,--for we make lots of corsets for men." + +"Where does the man whom you call Ferragus live?" + +"Monsieur," she said, pursing up her lips, "in the first place, he's +not a man; he is a rich monsieur, much richer, perhaps, than you are. +But why do you ask me his address when your wife knows it? He told me +not to give it. Am I obliged to answer you? I'm not, thank God, in a +confessional or a police-court; I'm responsible only to myself." + +"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs to tell me where Monsieur +Ferragus lives, how then?" + +"Ha! n, o, /no/, my little friend, and that ends the matter," she +said, emphasizing this singular reply with a popular gesture. "There's +no sum in the world could make me tell you. I have the honor to bid +you good-day. How do I get out of here?" + +Jules, horror-struck, allowed her to go without further notice. The +whole world seemed to crumble beneath his feet, and above him the +heavens were falling with a crash. + +"Monsieur is served," said his valet. + +The valet and the footman waited in the dining-room a quarter of an +hour without seeing master or mistress. + +"Madame will not dine to-day," said the waiting-maid, coming in. + +"What's the matter, Josephine?" asked the valet. + +"I don't know," she answered. "Madame is crying, and is going to bed. +Monsieur has no doubt got some love-affair on hand, and it has been +discovered at a very bad time. I wouldn't answer for madame's life. +Men are so clumsy; they'll make you scenes without any precaution." + +"That's not so," said the valet, in a low voice. "On the contrary, +madame is the one who--you understand? What times does monsieur have +to go after pleasures, he, who hasn't slept out of madame's room for +five years, who goes to his study at ten and never leaves it till +breakfast, at twelve. His life is all known, it is regular; whereas +madame goes out nearly every day at three o'clock, Heaven knows +where." + +"And monsieur too," said the maid, taking her mistress's part. + +"Yes, but he goes straight to the Bourse. I told him three times that +dinner was ready," continued the valet, after a pause. "You might as +well talk to a post." + +Monsieur Jules entered the dining-room. + +"Where is madame?" he said. + +"Madame is going to bed; her head aches," replied the maid, assuming +an air of importance. + +Monsieur Jules then said to the footmen composedly: "You can take +away; I shall go and sit with madame." + +He went to his wife's room and found her weeping, but endeavoring to +smother her sobs with her handkerchief. + +"Why do you weep?" said Jules; "you need expect no violence and no +reproaches from me. Why should I avenge myself? If you have not been +faithful to my love, it is that you were never worthy of it." + +"Not worthy?" The words were repeated amid her sobs and the accent in +which they were said would have moved any other man than Jules. + +"To kill you, I must love more than perhaps I do love you," he +continued. "But I should never have the courage; I would rather kill +myself, leaving you to your--happiness, and with--whom!--" + +He did not end his sentence. + +"Kill yourself!" she cried, flinging herself at his feet and clasping +them. + +But he, wishing to escape the embrace, tried to shake her off, +dragging her in so doing toward the bed. + +"Let me alone," he said. + +"No, no, Jules!" she cried. "If you love me no longer I shall die. Do +you wish to know all?" + +"Yes." + +He took her, grasped her violently, and sat down on the edge of the +bed, holding her between his legs. Then, looking at that beautiful +face now red as fire and furrowed with tears,-- + +"Speak," he said. + +Her sobs began again. + +"No; it is a secret of life and death. If I tell it, I--No, I cannot. +Have mercy, Jules!" + +"You have betrayed me--" + +"Ah! Jules, you think so now, but soon you will know all." + +"But this Ferragus, this convict whom you go to see, a man enriched by +crime, if he does not belong to you, if you do not belong to him--" + +"Oh, Jules!" + +"Speak! Is he your mysterious benefactor?--the man to whom we owe our +fortune, as persons have said already?" + +"Who said that?" + +"A man whom I killed in a duel." + +"Oh, God! one death already!" + +"If he is not your protector, if he does not give you money, if it is +you, on the contrary, who carry money to him, tell me, is he your +brother?" + +"What if he were?" she said. + +Monsieur Desmarets crossed his arms. + +"Why should that have been concealed from me?" he said. "Then you and +your mother have both deceived me? Besides, does a woman go to see her +brother every day, or nearly every day?" + +His wife had fainted at his feet. + +"Dead," he said. "And suppose I am mistaken?" + +He sprang to the bell-rope; called Josephine, and lifted Clemence to +the bed. + +"I shall die of this," said Madame Jules, recovering consciousness. + +"Josephine," cried Monsieur Desmarets. "Send for Monsieur Desplein; +send also to my brother and ask him to come here immediately." + +"Why your brother?" asked Clemence. + +But Jules had already left the room. + + + + CHAPTER IV + + WHERE GO TO DIE? + +For the first time in five years Madame Jules slept alone in her bed, +and was compelled to admit a physician into that sacred chamber. These +in themselves were two keen pangs. Desplein found Madame Jules very +ill. Never was a violent emotion more untimely. He would say nothing +definite, and postponed till the morrow giving any opinion, after +leaving a few directions, which were not executed, the emotions of the +heart causing all bodily cares to be forgotten. + +When morning dawned, Clemence had not yet slept. Her mind was absorbed +in the low murmur of a conversation which lasted several hours between +the brothers; but the thickness of the walls allowed no word which +could betray the object of this long conference to reach her ears. +Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, went away at last. The stillness of +the night, and the singular activity of the senses given by powerful +emotion, enabled Clemence to distinguish the scratching of a pen and +the involuntary movements of a person engaged in writing. Those who +are habitually up at night, and who observe the different acoustic +effects produced in absolute silence, know that a slight echo can be +readily perceived in the very places where louder but more equable and +continued murmurs are not distinct. At four o'clock the sound ceased. +Clemence rose, anxious and trembling. Then, with bare feet and without +a wrapper, forgetting her illness and her moist condition, the poor +woman opened the door softly without noise and looked into the next +room. She saw her husband sitting, with a pen in his hand, asleep in +his arm-chair. The candles had burned to the sockets. She slowly +advanced and read on an envelope, already sealed, the words, "This is +my will." + +She knelt down as if before an open grave and kissed her husband's +hand. He woke instantly. + +"Jules, my friend, they grant some days to criminals condemned to +death," she said, looking at him with eyes that blazed with fever and +with love. "Your innocent wife asks only two. Leave me free for two +days, and--wait! After that, I shall die happy--at least, you will +regret me." + +"Clemence, I grant them." + +Then, as she kissed her husband's hands in the tender transport of her +heart, Jules, under the spell of that cry of innocence, took her in +his arms and kissed her forehead, though ashamed to feel himself still +under subjection to the power of that noble beauty. + +On the morrow, after taking a few hours' rest, Jules entered his +wife's room, obeying mechanically his invariable custom of not leaving +the house without a word to her. Clemence was sleeping. A ray of light +passing through a chink in the upper blind of a window fell across the +face of the dejected woman. Already suffering had impaired her +forehead and the freshness of her lips. A lover's eye could not fail +to notice the appearance of dark blotches, and a sickly pallor in +place of the uniform tone of the cheeks and the pure ivory whiteness +of the skin,--two points at which the sentiments of her noble soul +were artlessly wont to show themselves. + +"She suffers," thought Jules. "Poor Clemence! May God protect us!" + +He kissed her very softly on the forehead. She woke, saw her husband, +and remembered all. Unable to speak, she took his hand, her eyes +filling with tears. + +"I am innocent," she said, ending her dream. + +"You will not go out to-day, will you?" asked Jules. + +"No, I feel too weak to leave my bed." + +"If you should change your mind, wait till I return," said Jules. + +Then he went down to the porter's lodge. + +"Fouguereau, you will watch the door yourself to-day. I wish to know +exactly who comes to the house, and who leaves it." + +Then he threw himself into a hackney-coach, and was driven to the +hotel de Maulincour, where he asked for the baron. + +"Monsieur is ill," they told him. + +Jules insisted on entering, and gave his name. If he could not see the +baron, he wished to see the vidame or the dowager. He waited some time +in the salon, where Madame de Maulincour finally came to him and told +him that her grandson was much too ill to receive him. + +"I know, madame, the nature of his illness from the letter you did me +the honor to write, and I beg you to believe--" + +"A letter to you, monsieur, written by me!" cried the dowager, +interrupting him. "I have written you no letter. What was I made to +say in that letter, monsieur?" + +"Madame," replied Jules, "intending to see Monsieur de Maulincour +to-day, I thought it best to preserve the letter in spite of its +injunction to destroy it. There it is." + +Madame de Maulincour put on her spectacles, and the moment she cast +her eyes on the paper she showed the utmost surprise. + +"Monsieur," she said, "my writing is so perfectly imitated that, if +the matter were not so recent, I might be deceived myself. My grandson +is ill, it is true; but his reason has never for a moment been +affected. We are the puppets of some evil-minded person or persons; +and yet I cannot imagine the object of a trick like this. You shall +see my grandson, monsieur, and you will at once perceive that he is +perfectly sound in mind." + +She rang the bell, and sent to ask if the baron felt able to receive +Monsieur Desmarets. The servant returned with an affirmative answer. +Jules went to the baron's room, where he found him in an arm-chair +near the fire. Too feeble to move, the unfortunate man merely bowed +his head with a melancholy gesture. The Vidame de Pamiers was sitting +with him. + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, "I have something to say which makes +it desirable that I should see you alone." + +"Monsieur," replied Auguste, "Monsieur le vidame knows about this +affair; you can speak fearlessly before him." + +"Monsieur le baron," said Jules, in a grave voice, "you have troubled +and well-nigh destroyed my happiness without having any right to do +so. Until the moment when we can see clearly which of us should +demand, or grant, reparation to the other, you are bound to help me in +following the dark and mysterious path into which you have flung me. I +have now come to ascertain from you the present residence of the +extraordinary being who exercises such a baneful effect on your life +and mine. On my return home yesterday, after listening to your +avowals, I received that letter." + +Jules gave him the forged letter. + +"This Ferragus, this Bourignard, or this Monsieur de Funcal, is a +demon!" cried Maulincour, after having read it. "Oh, what a frightful +maze I put my foot into when I meddled in this matter! Where am I +going? I did wrong, monsieur," he continued, looking at Jules; "but +death is the greatest of all expiations, and my death is now +approaching. You can ask me whatever you like; I am at your orders." + +"Monsieur, you know, of course, where this man is living, and I must +know it if it costs me all my fortune to penetrate this mystery. In +presence of so cruel an enemy every moment is precious." + +"Justin shall tell you all," replied the baron. + +At these words the vidame fidgeted on his chair. Auguste rang the +bell. + +"Justin is not in the house!" cried the vidame, in a hasty manner that +told much. + +"Well, then," said Auguste, excitedly, "the other servants must know +where he is; send a man on horseback to fetch him. Your valet is in +Paris, isn't he? He can be found." + +The vidame was visibly distressed. + +"Justin can't come, my dear boy," said the old man; "he is dead. I +wanted to conceal the accident from you, but--" + +"Dead!" cried Monsieur de Maulincour,--"dead! When and how?" + +"Last night. He had been supping with some old friends, and, I dare +say, was drunk; his friends--no doubt they were drunk, too--left him +lying in the street, and a heavy vehicle ran over him." + +"The convict did not miss /him/; at the first stroke he killed," said +Auguste. "He has had less luck with me; it has taken four blows to put +me out of the way." + +Jules was gloomy and thoughtful. + +"Am I to know nothing, then?" he cried, after a long pause. "Your +valet seems to have been justly punished. Did he not exceed your +orders in calumniating Madame Desmarets to a person named Ida, whose +jealousy he roused in order to turn her vindictiveness upon us?" + +"Ah, monsieur! in my anger I informed him about Madame Jules," said +Auguste. + +"Monsieur!" cried the husband, keenly irritated. + +"Oh, monsieur!" replied the baron, claiming silence by a gesture, "I +am prepared for all. You cannot tell me anything my own conscience has +not already told me. I am now expecting the most celebrated of all +professors of toxicology, in order to learn my fate. If I am destined +to intolerable suffering, my resolution is taken. I shall blow my +brains out." + +"You talk like a child!" cried the vidame, horrified by the coolness +with which the baron said these words. "Your grandmother would die of +grief." + +"Then, monsieur," said Jules, "am I to understand that there exist no +means of discovering in what part of Paris this extraordinary man +resides?" + +"I think, monsieur," said the old vidame, "from what I have heard poor +Justin say, that Monsieur de Funcal lives at either the Portuguese or +the Brazilian embassy. Monsieur de Funcal is a nobleman belonging to +both those countries. As for the convict, he is dead and buried. Your +persecutor, whoever he is, seems to me so powerful that it would be +well to take no decisive measures until you are sure of some way of +confounding and crushing him. Act prudently and with caution, my dear +monsieur. Had Monsieur de Maulincour followed my advice, nothing of +all this would have happened." + +Jules coldly but politely withdrew. He was now at a total loss to know +how to reach Ferragus. As he passed into his own house, the porter +told him that Madame had just been out to throw a letter into the post +box at the head of the rue de Menars. Jules felt humiliated by this +proof of the insight with which the porter espoused his cause, and the +cleverness by which he guessed the way to serve him. The eagerness of +servants, and their shrewdness in compromising masters who compromised +themselves, was known to him, and he fully appreciated the danger of +having them as accomplices, no matter for what purpose. But he could +not think of his personal dignity until the moment when he found +himself thus suddenly degraded. What a triumph for the slave who could +not raise himself to his master, to compel his master to come down to +his level! Jules was harsh and hard to him. Another fault. But he +suffered so deeply! His life till then so upright, so pure, was +becoming crafty; he was to scheme and lie. Clemence was scheming and +lying. This to him was a moment of horrible disgust. Lost in a flood +of bitter feelings, Jules stood motionless at the door of his house. +Yielding to despair, he thought of fleeing, of leaving France forever, +carrying with him the illusions of uncertainty. Then, again, not +doubting that the letter Clemence had just posted was addressed to +Ferragus, his mind searched for a means of obtaining the answer that +mysterious being was certain to send. Then his thoughts began to +analyze the singular good fortune of his life since his marriage, and +he asked himself whether the calumny for which he had taken such +signal vengeance was not a truth. Finally, reverting to the coming +answer, he said to himself:-- + +"But this man, so profoundly capable, so logical in his every act, who +sees and foresees, who calculates, and even divines, our very +thoughts, is he likely to make an answer? Will he not employ some +other means more in keeping with his power? He may send his answer by +some beggar; or in a carton brought by an honest man, who does not +suspect what he brings; or in some parcel of shoes, which a shop-girl +may innocently deliver to my wife. If Clemence and he have agreed upon +such means--" + +He distrusted all things; his mind ran over vast tracts and shoreless +oceans of conjecture. Then, after floating for a time among a thousand +contradictory ideas, he felt he was strongest in his own house, and he +resolved to watch it as the ant-lion watches his sandy labyrinth. + +"Fouguereau," he said to the porter, "I am not at home to any one who +comes to see me. If any one calls to see madame, or brings her +anything, ring twice. Bring all letters addressed here to me, no +matter for whom they are intended." + +"Thus," thought he, as he entered his study, which was in the +entresol, "I forestall the schemes of this Ferragus. If he sends some +one to ask for me so as to find out if Clemence is alone, at least I +shall not be tricked like a fool." + +He stood by the window of his study, which looked upon the street, and +then a final scheme, inspired by jealousy, came into his mind. He +resolved to send his head-clerk in his own carriage to the Bourse with +a letter to another broker, explaining his sales and purchases and +requesting him to do his business for that day. He postponed his more +delicate transactions till the morrow, indifferent to the fall or rise +of stocks or the debts of all Europe. High privilege of love!--it +crushes all things, all interests fall before it: altar, throne, +consols! + +At half-past three, just the hour at which the Bourse is in full blast +of reports, monthly settlements, premiums, etc., Fouguereau entered +the study, quite radiant with his news. + +"Monsieur, an old woman has come, but very cautiously; I think she's a +sly one. She asked for monsieur, and seemed much annoyed when I told +her he was out; then she gave me a letter for madame, and here it is." + +Fevered with anxiety, Jules opened the letter; then he dropped into a +chair, exhausted. The letter was mere nonsense throughout, and needed +a key. It was virtually in cipher. + +"Go away, Fouguereau." The porter left him. "It is a mystery deeper +than the sea below the plummet line! Ah! it must be love; love only is +so sagacious, so inventive as this. Ah! I shall kill her." + +At this moment an idea flashed through his brain with such force that +he felt almost physically illuminated by it. In the days of his +toilsome poverty before his marriage, Jules had made for himself a +true friend. The extreme delicacy with which he had managed the +susceptibilities of a man both poor and modest; the respect with which +he had surrounded him; the ingenious cleverness he had employed to +nobly compel him to share his opulence without permitting it to make +him blush, increased their friendship. Jacquet continued faithful to +Desmarets in spite of his wealth. + +Jacquet, a nobly upright man, a toiler, austere in his morals, had +slowly made his way in that particular ministry which develops both +honesty and knavery at the same time. A clerk in the ministry of +Foreign Affairs, he had charge of the most delicate division of its +archives. Jacquet in that office was like a glow-worm, casting his +light upon those secret correspondences, deciphering and classifying +despatches. Ranking higher than a mere /bourgeois/, his position at +the ministry was superior to that of the other subalterns. He lived +obscurely, glad to feel that such obscurity sheltered him from +reverses and disappointments, and was satisfied to humbly pay in the +lowest coin his debt to the country. Thanks to Jules, his position had +been much ameliorated by a worthy marriage. An unrecognized patriot, a +minister in actual fact, he contented himself with groaning in his +chimney-corner at the course of the government. In his own home, +Jacquet was an easy-going king,--an umbrella-man, as they say, who +hired a carriage for his wife which he never entered himself. In +short, to end this sketch of a philosopher unknown to himself, he had +never suspected and never in all his life would suspect the advantages +he might have drawn from his position,--that of having for his +intimate friend a broker, and of knowing every morning all the secrets +of the State. This man, sublime after the manner of that nameless +soldier who died in saving Napoleon by a "qui vive," lived at the +ministry. + +In ten minutes Jules was in his friend's office. Jacquet gave him a +chair, laid aside methodically his green silk eye-shade, rubbed his +hands, picked up his snuff-box, rose, stretched himself till his +shoulder-blades cracked, swelled out his chest, and said:-- + +"What brings you here, Monsieur Desmarets? What do you want with me?" + +"Jacquet, I want you to decipher a secret,--a secret of life and +death." + +"It doesn't concern politics?" + +"If it did, I shouldn't come to you for information," said Jules. "No, +it is a family matter, about which I require you to be absolutely +silent." + +"Claude-Joseph Jacquet, dumb by profession. Don't you know me by this +time?" he said, laughing. "Discretion is my lot." + +Jules showed him the letter. + +"You must read me this letter, addressed to my wife." + +"The deuce! the deuce! a bad business!" said Jacquet, examining the +letter as a usurer examines a note to be negotiated. "Ha! that's a +gridiron letter! Wait a minute." + +He left Jules alone for a moment, but returned immediately. + +"Easy enough to read, my friend! It is written on the gridiron plan, +used by the Portuguese minister under Monsieur de Choiseul, at the +time of the dismissal of the Jesuits. Here, see!" + +Jacquet placed upon the writing a piece of paper cut out in regular +squares, like the paper laces which confectioners wrap round their +sugarplums; and Jules then read with perfect ease the words that were +visible in the interstices. They were as follows:-- + + "Don't be uneasy, my dear Clemence; our happiness cannot again be + troubled; and your husband will soon lay aside his suspicions. + However ill you may be, you must have the courage to come here + to-morrow; find strength in your love for me. Mine for you has + induced me to submit to a cruel operation, and I cannot leave my + bed. I have had the actual cautery applied to my back, and it was + necessary to burn it in a long time; you understand me? But I + thought of you, and I did not suffer. + + "To baffle Maulincour (who will not persecute us much longer), I + have left the protecting roof of the embassy, and am now safe from + all inquiry in the rue des Enfants-Rouges, number 12, with an old + woman, Madame Etienne Gruget, mother of that Ida, who shall pay + dear for her folly. Come to-morrow, at nine in the morning. I am + in a room which is reached only by an interior staircase. Ask for + Monsieur Camuset. Adieu; I kiss your forehead, my darling." + +Jacquet looked at Jules with a sort of honest terror, the sign of a +true compassion, as he made his favorite exclamation in two separate +and distinct tones,-- + +"The deuce! the deuce!" + +"That seems clear to you, doesn't it?" said Jules. "Well, in the +depths of my heart there is a voice that pleads for my wife, and makes +itself heard above the pangs of jealousy. I must endure the worst of +all agony until to-morrow; but to-morrow, between nine and ten I shall +know all; I shall be happy or wretched for all my life. Think of me +then, Jacquet." + +"I shall be at your house to-morrow at eight o'clock. We will go +together; I'll wait for you, if you like, in the street. You may run +some danger, and you ought to have near you some devoted person who'll +understand a mere sign, and whom you can safely trust. Count on me." + +"Even to help me in killing some one?" + +"The deuce! the deuce!" said Jacquet, repeating, as it were, the same +musical note. "I have two children and a wife." + +Jules pressed his friend's hand and went away; but returned +immediately. + +"I forgot the letter," he said. "But that's not all, I must reseal +it." + +"The deuce! the deuce! you opened it without saving the seal; however, +it is still possible to restore it. Leave it with me and I'll bring it +to you /secundum scripturam/." + +"At what time?" + +"Half-past five." + +"If I am not yet in, give it to the porter and tell him to send it up +to madame." + +"Do you want me to-morrow?" + +"No. Adieu." + +Jules drove at once to the place de la Rotonde du Temple, where he +left his cabriolet and went on foot to the rue des Enfants-Rouges. He +found the house of Madame Etienne Gruget and examined it. There, the +mystery on which depended the fate of so many persons would be cleared +up; there, at this moment, was Ferragus, and to Ferragus all the +threads of this strange plot led. The Gordian knot of the drama, +already so bloody, was surely in a meeting between Madame Jules, her +husband, and that man; and a blade able to cut the closest of such +knots would not be wanting. + +The house was one of those which belong to the class called +/cabajoutis/. This significant name is given by the populace of Paris +to houses which are built, as it were, piecemeal. They are nearly +always composed of buildings originally separate but afterwards united +according to the fancy of the various proprietors who successively +enlarge them; or else they are houses begun, left unfinished, again +built upon, and completed,--unfortunate structures which have passed, +like certain peoples, under many dynasties of capricious masters. +Neither the floors nor the windows have an /ensemble/,--to borrow one +of the most picturesque terms of the art of painting; all is discord, +even the external decoration. The /cabajoutis/ is to Parisian +architecture what the /capharnaum/ is to the apartment,--a poke-hole, +where the most heterogeneous articles are flung pell-mell. + +"Madame Etienne?" asked Jules of the portress. + +This portress had her lodge under the main entrance, in a sort of +chicken coop, or wooden house on rollers, not unlike those sentry- +boxes which the police have lately set up by the stands of hackney- +coaches. + +"Hein?" said the portress, without laying down the stocking she was +knitting. + +In Paris the various component parts which make up the physiognomy of +any given portion of the monstrous city, are admirably in keeping with +its general character. Thus porter, concierge, or Suisse, whatever +name may be given to that essential muscle of the Parisian monster, is +always in conformity with the neighborhood of which he is a part; in +fact, he is often an epitome of it. The lazy porter of the faubourg +Saint-Germain, with lace on every seam of his coat, dabbles in stocks; +he of the Chaussee d'Antin takes his ease, reads the money-articles in +the newspapers, and has a business of his own in the faubourg +Montmartre. The portress in the quarter of prostitution was formerly a +prostitute; in the Marais, she has morals, is cross-grained, and full +of crotchets. + +On seeing Monsieur Jules this particular portress, holding her +knitting in one hand, took a knife and stirred the half-extinguished +peat in her foot-warmer; then she said:-- + +"You want Madame Etienne; do you mean Madame Etienne Gruget?" + +"Yes," said Jules, assuming a vexed air. + +"Who makes trimmings?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, then, monsieur," she said, issuing from her cage, and laying +her hand on Jules' arm and leading him to the end of a long passage- +way, vaulted like a cellar, "go up the second staircase at the end of +the court-yard--where you will see the windows with the pots of pinks; +that's where Madame Etienne lives." + +"Thank you, madame. Do you think she is alone?" + +"Why shouldn't she be alone? she's a widow." + +Jules hastened up a dark stairway, the steps of which were knobby with +hardened mud left by the feet of those who came and went. On the +second floor he saw three doors but no signs of pinks. Fortunately, on +one of the doors, the oiliest and darkest of the three, he read these +words, chalked on a panel: "Ida will come to-night at nine o'clock." + +"This is the place," thought Jules. + +He pulled an old bellrope, black with age, and heard the smothered +sound of a cracked bell and the barking of an asthmatic little dog. By +the way the sounds echoed from the interior he knew that the rooms +were encumbered with articles which left no space for reverberation,-- +a characteristic feature of the homes of workmen and humble +households, where space and air are always lacking. + +Jules looked out mechanically for the pinks, and found them on the +outer sill of a sash window between two filthy drain-pipes. So here +were flowers; here, a garden, two yards long and six inches wide; +here, a wheat-ear; here, a whole life epitomized; but here, too, all +the miseries of that life. A ray of light falling from heaven as if by +special favor on those puny flowers and the vigorous wheat-ear brought +out in full relief the dust, the grease, and that nameless color, +peculiar to Parisian squalor, made of dirt, which crusted and spotted +the damp walls, the worm-eaten balusters, the disjointed window- +casings, and the door originally red. Presently the cough of an old +woman, and a heavy female step, shuffling painfully in list slippers, +announced the coming of the mother of Ida Gruget. The creature opened +the door and came out upon the landing, looked up, and said:-- + +"Ah! is this Monsieur Bocquillon? Why, no? But perhaps you're his +brother. What can I do for you? Come in, monsieur." + +Jules followed her into the first room, where he saw, huddled +together, cages, household utensils, ovens, furniture, little +earthenware dishes full of food or water for the dog and the cats, a +wooden clock, bed-quilts, engravings of Eisen, heaps of old iron, all +these things mingled and massed together in a way that produced a most +grotesque effect,--a true Parisian dusthole, in which were not lacking +a few old numbers of the "Constitutionel." + +Jules, impelled by a sense of prudence, paid no attention to the +widow's invitation when she said civilly, showing him an inner room:-- + +"Come in here, monsieur, and warm yourself." + +Fearing to be overheard by Ferragus, Jules asked himself whether it +were not wisest to conclude the arrangement he had come to make with +the old woman in the crowded antechamber. A hen, which descended +cackling from a loft, roused him from this inward meditation. He came +to a resolution, and followed Ida's mother into the inner room, +whither they were accompanied by the wheezy pug, a personage otherwise +mute, who jumped upon a stool. Madame Gruget showed the assumption of +semi-pauperism when she invited her visitor to warm himself. Her fire- +pot contained, or rather concealed two bits of sticks, which lay +apart: the grating was on the ground, its handle in the ashes. The +mantel-shelf, adorned with a little wax Jesus under a shade of squares +of glass held together with blue paper, was piled with wools, bobbins, +and tools used in the making of gimps and trimmings. Jules examined +everything in the room with a curiosity that was full of interest, and +showed, in spite of himself, an inward satisfaction. + +"Well, monsieur, tell me, do you want to buy any of my things?" said +the old woman, seating herself in a cane arm-chair, which appeared to +be her headquarters. In it she kept her handkerchief, snuffbox, +knitting, half-peeled vegetables, spectacles, calendar, a bit of +livery gold lace just begun, a greasy pack of cards, and two volumes +of novels, all stuck into the hollow of the back. This article of +furniture, in which the old creature was floating down the river of +life, was not unlike the encyclopedic bag which a woman carries with +her when she travels; in which may be found a compendium of her +household belongings, from the portrait of her husband to /eau de +Melisse/ for faintness, sugarplums for the children, and English +court-plaster in case of cuts. + +Jules studied all. He looked attentively at Madame Gruget's yellow +visage, at her gray eyes without either brows or lashes, her toothless +mouth, her wrinkles marked in black, her rusty cap, her still more +rusty ruffles, her cotton petticoat full of holes, her worn-out +slippers, her disabled fire-pot, her table heaped with dishes and +silks and work begun or finished, in wool or cotton, in the midst of +which stood a bottle of wine. Then he said to himself: "This old woman +has some passion, some strong liking or vice; I can make her do my +will." + +"Madame," he said aloud, with a private sign of intelligence, "I have +come to order some livery trimmings." Then he lowered his voice. "I +know," he continued, "that you have a lodger who has taken the name of +Camuset." The old woman looked at him suddenly, but without any sign +of astonishment. "Now, tell me, can we come to an understanding? This +is a question which means fortune for you." + +"Monsieur," she replied, "speak out, and don't be afraid. There's no +one here. But if I had any one above, it would be impossible for him +to hear you." + +"Ha! the sly old creature, she answers like a Norman," thought Jules, +"We shall agree. Do not give yourself the trouble to tell falsehoods, +madame," he resumed, "In the first place, let me tell you that I mean +no harm either to you or to your lodger who is suffering from cautery, +or to your daughter Ida, a stay-maker, the friend of Ferragus. You +see, I know all your affairs. Do not be uneasy; I am not a detective +policeman, nor do I desire anything that can hurt your conscience. A +young lady will come here to-morrow-morning at half-past nine o'clock, +to talk with this lover of your daughter. I want to be where I can see +all and hear all, without being seen or heard by them. If you will +furnish me with the means of doing so, I will reward that service with +the gift of two thousand francs and a yearly stipend of six hundred. +My notary shall prepare a deed before you this evening, and I will +give him the money to hold; he will pay the two thousand to you +to-morrow after the conference at which I desire to be present, as you +will then have given proofs of your good faith." + +"Will it injure my daughter, my good monsieur?" she asked, casting a +cat-like glance of doubt and uneasiness upon him. + +"In no way, madame. But, in any case, it seems to me that your +daughter does not treat you well. A girl who is loved by so rich a man +as Ferragus ought to make you more comfortable than you seem to be." + +"Ah, my dear monsieur, just think, not so much as one poor ticket to +the Ambigu, or the Gaiete, where she can go as much as she likes. It's +shameful! A girl for whom I sold my silver forks and spoons! and now I +eat, at my age, with German metal,--and all to pay for her +apprenticeship, and give her a trade, where she could coin money if +she chose. As for that, she's like me, clever as a witch; I must do +her that justice. But, I will say, she might give me her old silk +gowns,--I, who am so fond of wearing silk. But no! Monsieur, she dines +at the Cadran-Bleu at fifty francs a head, and rolls in her carriage +as if she were a princess, and despises her mother for a Colin-Lampon. +Heavens and earth! what heedless young ones we've brought into the +world; we have nothing to boast of there. A mother, monsieur, can't be +anything else but a good mother; and I've concealed that girl's ways, +and kept her in my bosom, to take the bread out of my mouth and cram +everything into her own. Well, well! and now she comes and fondles one +a little, and says, 'How d'ye do, mother?' And that's all the duty she +thinks of paying. But she'll have children one of these days, and then +she'll find out what it is to have such baggage,--which one can't help +loving all the same." + +"Do you mean that she does nothing for you?" + +"Ah, nothing? No, monsieur, I didn't say that; if she did nothing, +that would be a little too much. She gives me my rent and thirty-six +francs a month. But, monsieur, at my age,--and I'm fifty-two years +old, with eyes that feel the strain at night,--ought I to be working +in this way? Besides, why won't she have me to live with her? I should +shame her, should I? Then let her say so. Faith, one ought to be +buried out of the way of such dogs of children, who forget you before +they've even shut the door." + +She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, and with it a lottery +ticket that dropped on the floor; but she hastily picked it up, +saying, "Hi! that's the receipt for my taxes." + +Jules at once perceived the reason of the sagacious parsimony of which +the mother complained; and he was the more certain that the widow +Gruget would agree to the proposed bargain. + +"Well, then, madame," he said, "accept what I offer you." + +"Did you say two thousand francs in ready money, and six hundred +annuity, monsieur?" + +"Madame, I've changed my mind; I will promise you only three hundred +annuity. This way seems more to my own interests. But I will give you +five thousand francs in ready money. Wouldn't you like that as well?" + +"Bless me, yes, monsieur!" + +"You'll get more comfort out of it; and you can go to the Ambigu and +Franconi's at your ease in a coach." + +"As for Franconi, I don't like that, for they don't talk there. +Monsieur, if I accept, it is because it will be very advantageous for +my child. I sha'n't be a drag on her any longer. Poor little thing! +I'm glad she has her pleasures, after all. Ah, monsieur, youth must be +amused! And so, if you assure me that no harm will come to anybody--" + +"Not to anybody," replied Jules. "But now, how will you manage it?" + +"Well, monsieur, if I give Monsieur Ferragus a little tea made of +poppy-heads to-night, he'll sleep sound, the dear man; and he needs +it, too, because of his sufferings, for he does suffer, I can tell +you, and more's the pity. But I'd like to know what a healthy man like +him wants to burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux +which troubles him once in two years. However, to come back to our +business. I have my neighbor's key; her lodging is just above mine, +and in it there's a room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is, +with only a partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country +for ten days. Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur +Ferragus is sound asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your +ease. I'm on good terms with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who +talks like an angel, and he'll do the work for me and say nothing +about it." + +"Then here's a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur +Desmaret's office; he's a notary, and here's his address. At nine +o'clock the deed will be ready, but--silence!" + +"Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur." + +Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know +the truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him +the letter properly resealed. + +"How do you feel now?" he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness +that separated them. + +"Pretty well, Jules," she answered in a coaxing voice, "do come and +dine beside me." + +"Very good," he said, giving her the letter. "Here is something +Fouguereau gave me for you." + +Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and +that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband. + +"Is that joy," he said, laughing, "or the effect of expectation?" + +"Oh, of many things!" she said, examining the seal. + +"I leave you now for a few moments." + +He went down to his study, and wrote to his brother, giving him +directions about the payment to the widow Gruget. When he returned, he +found his dinner served on a little table by his wife's bedside, and +Josephine ready to wait on him. + +"If I were up how I should like to serve you myself," said Clemence, +when Josephine had left them. "Oh, yes, on my knees!" she added, +passing her white hands through her husband's hair. "Dear, noble +heart, you were very kind and gracious to me just now. You did me more +good by showing me such confidence than all the doctors on earth could +do me with their prescriptions. That feminine delicacy of yours--for +you do know how to love like a woman--well, it has shed a balm into my +heart which has almost cured me. There's truce between us, Jules; +lower your head, that I may kiss it." + +Jules could not deny himself the pleasure of that embrace. But it was +not without a feeling of remorse in his heart; he felt himself small +before this woman whom he was still tempted to think innocent. A sort +of melancholy joy possessed him. A tender hope shone on her features +in spite of their grieved expression. They both were equally unhappy +in deceiving each other; another caress, and, unable to resist their +suffering, all would then have been avowed. + +"To-morrow evening, Clemence." + +"No, no; to-morrow morning, by twelve o'clock, you will know all, and +you'll kneel down before your wife--Oh, no! you shall not be +humiliated; you are all forgiven now; you have done no wrong. Listen, +Jules; yesterday you did crush me--harshly; but perhaps my life would +not have been complete without that agony; it may be a shadow that +will make our coming days celestial." + +"You lay a spell upon me," cried Jules; "you fill me with remorse." + +"Poor love! destiny is stronger than we, and I am not the accomplice +of mine. I shall go out to-morrow." + +"At what hour?" asked Jules. + +"At half-past nine." + +"Clemence," he said, "take every precaution; consult Doctor Desplein +and old Haudry." + +"I shall consult nothing but my heart and my courage." + +"I shall leave you free; you will not see me till twelve o'clock." + +"Won't you keep me company this evening? I feel so much better." + +After attending to some business, Jules returned to his wife,-- +recalled by her invincible attraction. His passion was stronger than +his anguish. + +The next day, at nine o'clock Jules left home, hurried to the rue des +Enfants-Rouges, went upstairs, and rang the bell of the widow Gruget's +lodgings. + +"Ah! you've kept your word, as true as the dawn. Come in, monsieur," +said the old woman when she saw him. "I've made you a cup of coffee +with cream," she added, when the door was closed. "Oh! real cream; I +saw it milked myself at the dairy we have in this very street." + +"Thank you, no, madame, nothing. Take me at once--" + +"Very good, monsieur. Follow me, this way." + +She led him up into the room above her own, where she showed him, +triumphantly, an opening about the size of a two-franc piece, made +during the night, in a place, which, in each room, was above a +wardrobe. In order to look through it, Jules was forced to maintain +himself in rather a fatiguing attitude, by standing on a step-ladder +which the widow had been careful to place there. + +"There's a gentleman with him," she whispered, as she retired. + +Jules then beheld a man employed in dressing a number of wounds on the +shoulders of Ferragus, whose head he recognized from the description +given to him by Monsieur de Maulincour. + +"When do you think those wounds will heal?" asked Ferragus. + +"I don't know," said the other man. "The doctors say those wounds will +require seven or eight more dressings." + +"Well, then, good-bye until to-night," said Ferragus, holding out his +hand to the man, who had just replaced the bandage. + +"Yes, to-night," said the other, pressing his hand cordially. "I wish +I could see you past your sufferings." + +"To-morrow Monsieur de Funcal's papers will be delivered to us, and +Henri Bourignard will be dead forever," said Ferragus. "Those fatal +marks which have cost us so dear no longer exist. I shall become once +more a social being, a man among men, and more of a man than the +sailor whom the fishes are eating. God knows it is not for my own sake +I have made myself a Portuguese count!" + +"Poor Gratien!--you, the wisest of us all, our beloved brother, the +Benjamin of the band; as you very well know." + +"Adieu; keep an eye on Maulincour." + +"You can rest easy on that score." + +"Ho! stay, marquis," cried the convict. + +"What is it?" + +"Ida is capable of everything after the scene of last night. If she +should throw herself into the river, I would not fish her out. She +knows the secret of my name, and she'll keep it better there. But +still, look after her; for she is, in her way, a good girl." + +"Very well." + +The stranger departed. Ten minutes later Jules heard, with a feverish +shudder, the rustle of a silk gown, and almost recognized by their +sound the steps of his wife. + +"Well, father," said Clemence, "my poor father, are you better? What +courage you have shown!" + +"Come here, my child," replied Ferragus, holding out his hand to her. + +Clemence held her forehead to him and he kissed it. + +"Now tell me, what is the matter, my little girl? What are these new +troubles?" + +"Troubles, father! it concerns the life or death of the daughter you +have loved so much. Indeed you must, as I wrote you yesterday, you +/must/ find a way to see my poor Jules to-day. If you knew how good he +has been to me, in spite of all suspicions apparently so legitimate. +Father, my love is my very life. Would you see me die? Ah! I have +suffered so much that my life, I feel it! is in danger." + +"And all because of the curiosity of that miserable Parisian?" cried +Ferragus. "I'd burn Paris down if I lost you, my daughter. Ha! you may +know what a lover is, but you don't yet know what a father can do." + +"Father, you frighten me when you look at me in that way. Don't weigh +such different feelings in the same scales. I had a husband before I +knew that my father was living--" + +"If your husband was the first to lay kisses on your forehead, I was +the first to drop tears upon it," replied Ferragus. "But don't feel +frightened, Clemence, speak to me frankly. I love you enough to +rejoice in the knowledge that you are happy, though I, your father, +may have little place in your heart, while you fill the whole of +mine." + +"Ah! what good such words do me! You make me love you more and more, +though I seem to rob something from my Jules. But, my kind father, +think what his sufferings are. What may I tell him to-day?" + +"My child, do you think I waited for your letter to save you from this +threatened danger? Do you know what will become of those who venture +to touch your happiness, or come between us? Have you never been aware +that a second providence was guarding your life? Twelve men of power +and intellect form a phalanx round your love and your existence,-- +ready to do all things to protect you. Think of your father, who has +risked death to meet you in the public promenades, or see you asleep +in your little bed in your mother's home, during the night-time. Could +such a father, to whom your innocent caresses give strength to live +when a man of honor ought to have died to escape his infamy, could +/I/, in short, I who breathe through your lips, and see with your +eyes, and feel with your heart, could I fail to defend with the claws +of a lion and the soul of a father, my only blessing, my life, my +daughter? Since the death of that angel, your mother, I have dreamed +but of one thing,--the happiness of pressing you to my heart in the +face of the whole earth, of burying the convict,--" He paused a +moment, and then added: "--of giving you a father, a father who could +press without shame your husband's hand, who could live without fear +in both your hearts, who could say to all the world, 'This is my +daughter,'--in short, to be a happy father." + +"Oh, father! father!" + +"After infinite difficulty, after searching the whole globe," +continued Ferragus, "my friends have found me the skin of a dead man +in which to take my place once more in social life. A few days hence, +I shall be Monsieur de Funcal, a Portuguese count. Ah! my dear child, +there are few men of my age who would have had the patience to learn +Portuguese and English, which were spoken fluently by that devil of a +sailor, who was drowned at sea." + +"But, my dear father--" + +"All has been foreseen, and prepared. A few days hence, his Majesty +John VI., King of Portugal will be my accomplice. My child, you must +have a little patience where your father has had so much. But ah! what +would I not do to reward your devotion for the last three years,-- +coming religiously to comfort your old father, at the risk of your own +peace!" + +"Father!" cried Clemence, taking his hands and kissing them. + +"Come, my child, have courage still; keep my fatal secret a few days +longer, till the end is reached. Jules is not an ordinary man, I know; +but are we sure that his lofty character and his noble love may not +impel him to dislike the daughter of a--" + +"Oh!" cried Clemence, "you have read my heart; I have no other fear +than that. The very thought turns me to ice," she added, in a heart- +rending tone. "But, father, think that I have promised him the truth +in two hours." + +"If so, my daughter, tell him to go to the Portuguese embassy and see +the Comte de Funcal, your father. I will be there." + +"But Monsieur de Maulincour has told him of Ferragus. Oh, father, what +torture, to deceive, deceive, deceive!" + +"Need you say that to me? But only a few days more, and no living man +will be able to expose me. Besides, Monsieur de Maulincour is beyond +the faculty of remembering. Come, dry your tears, my silly child, and +think--" + +At this instant a terrible cry rang from the room in which Jules +Desmarets was stationed. + +The clamor was heard by Madame Jules and Ferragus through the opening +of the wall, and struck them with terror. + +"Go and see what it means, Clemence," said her father. + +Clemence ran rapidly down the little staircase, found the door into +Madame Gruget's apartment wide open, heard the cries which echoed from +the upper floor, went up the stairs, guided by the noise of sobs, and +caught these words before she entered the fatal chamber:-- + +"You, monsieur, you, with your horrid inventions,--you are the cause +of her death!" + +"Hush, miserable woman!" replied Jules, putting his handkerchief on +the mouth of the old woman, who began at once to cry out, "Murder! +help!" + +At this instant Clemence entered, saw her husband, uttered a cry, and +fled away. + +"Who will save my child?" cried the widow Gruget. "You have murdered +her." + +"How?" asked Jules, mechanically, for he was horror-struck at being +seen by his wife. + +"Read that," said the old woman, giving him a letter. "Can money or +annuities console me for that?" + + Farewell, mother! I bequeeth you what I have. I beg your pardon + for my forlts, and the last greef to which I put you by ending my + life in the river. Henry, who I love more than myself, says I have + made his misfortune, and as he has drifen me away, and I have lost + all my hops of merrying him, I am going to droun myself. I shall + go abov Neuilly, so that they can't put me in the Morg. If Henry + does not hate me anny more after I am ded, ask him to berry a pore + girl whose hart beet for him only, and to forgif me, for I did + rong to meddle in what didn't consern me. Tak care of his wounds. + How much he sufered, pore fellow! I shall have as much corage to + kill myself as he had to burn his bak. Carry home the corsets I + have finished. And pray God for your daughter. + +Ida. + + +"Take this letter to Monsieur de Funcal, who is upstairs," said Jules. +"He alone can save your daughter, if there is still time." + +So saying he disappeared, running like a man who has committed a +crime. His legs trembled. The hot blood poured into his swelling heart +in torrents greater than at any other moment of his life, and left it +again with untold violence. Conflicting thoughts struggled in his +mind, and yet one thought predominated,--he had not been loyal to the +being he loved most. It was impossible for him to argue with his +conscience, whose voice, rising high with conviction, came like an +echo of those inward cries of his love during the cruel hours of doubt +he had lately lived through. + +He spent the greater part of the day wandering about Paris, for he +dared not go home. This man of integrity and honor feared to meet the +spotless brow of the woman he had misjudged. We estimate wrongdoing in +proportion to the purity of our conscience; the deed which is scarcely +a fault in some hearts, takes the proportions of a crime in certain +unsullied souls. The slightest stain on the white garment of a virgin +makes it a thing ignoble as the rags of a mendicant. Between the two +the difference lies in the misfortune of the one, the wrong-doing of +the other. God never measures repentance; he never apportions it. As +much is needed to efface a spot as to obliterate the crimes of a +lifetime. These reflections fell with all their weight on Jules; +passions, like human laws, will not pardon, and their reasoning is +more just; for are they not based upon a conscience of their own as +infallible as an instinct? + +Jules finally came home pale, despondent, crushed beneath a sense of +his wrong-doing, and yet expressing in spite of himself the joy his +wife's innocence had given him. He entered her room all throbbing with +emotion; she was in bed with a high fever. He took her hand, kissed +it, and covered it with tears. + +"Dear angel," he said, when they were alone, "it is repentance." + +"And for what?" she answered. + +As she made that reply, she laid her head back upon the pillow, closed +her eyes, and remained motionless, keeping the secret of her +sufferings that she might not frighten her husband,--the tenderness of +a mother, the delicacy of an angel! All the woman was in her answer. + +The silence lasted long. Jules, thinking her asleep, went to question +Josephine as to her mistress's condition. + +"Madame came home half-dead, monsieur. We sent at once for Monsieur +Haudry." + +"Did he come? What did he say?" + +"He said nothing, monsieur. He did not seem satisfied; gave orders +that no one should go near madame except the nurse, and said he should +come back this evening." + +Jules returned softly to his wife's room and sat down in a chair +before the bed. There he remained, motionless, with his eyes fixed on +those of Clemence. When she raised her eyelids she saw him, and +through those lids passed a tender glance, full of passionate love, +free from reproach and bitterness,--a look which fell like a flame of +fire upon the heart of that husband, nobly absolved and forever loved +by the being whom he had killed. The presentiment of death struck both +their minds with equal force. Their looks were blended in one anguish, +as their hearts had long been blended in one love, felt equally by +both, and shared equally. No questions were uttered; a horrible +certainty was there,--in the wife an absolute generosity; in the +husband an awful remorse; then, in both souls the same vision of the +end, the same conviction of fatality. + +There came a moment when, thinking his wife asleep, Jules kissed her +softly on the forehead; then after long contemplation of that +cherished face, he said:-- + +"Oh God! leave me this angel still a little while that I may blot out +my wrong by love and adoration. As a daughter, she is sublime; as a +wife, what word can express her?" + +Clemence raised her eyes; they were full of tears. + +"You pain me," she said, in a feeble voice. + +It was getting late; Doctor Haudry came, and requested the husband to +withdraw during his visit. When the doctor left the sick-room Jules +asked him no question; one gesture was enough. + +"Call in consultation any physician in whom you place confidence; I +may be wrong." + +"Doctor, tell me the truth. I am a man, and I can bear it. Besides, I +have the deepest interest in knowing it; I have certain affairs to +settle." + +"Madame Jules is dying," said the physician. "There is some moral +malady which has made great progress, and it has complicated her +physical condition, which was already dangerous, and made still more +so by her great imprudence. To walk about barefooted at night! to go +out when I forbade it! on foot yesterday in the rain, to-day in a +carriage! She must have meant to kill herself. But still, my judgment +is not final; she has youth, and a most amazing nervous strength. It +may be best to risk all to win all by employing some violent reagent. +But I will not take upon myself to order it; nor will I advise it; in +consultation I shall oppose it." + +Jules returned to his wife. For eleven days and eleven nights he +remained beside her bed, taking no sleep during the day when he laid +his head upon the foot of the bed. No man ever pushed the jealousy of +care and the craving for devotion to such an extreme as he. He could +not endure that the slightest service should be done by others for his +wife. There were days of uncertainty, false hopes, now a little +better, then a crisis,--in short, all the horrible mutations of death +as it wavers, hesitates, and finally strikes. Madame Jules always +found strength to smile at her husband. She pitied him, knowing that +soon he would be alone. It was a double death,--that of life, that of +love; but life grew feebler, and love grew mightier. One frightful +night there was, when Clemence passed through that delirium which +precedes the death of youth. She talked of her happy love, she talked +of her father; she related her mother's revelations on her death-bed, +and the obligations that mother had laid upon her. She struggled, not +for life, but for her love which she could not leave. + +"Grant, O God!" she said, "that he may not know I want him to die with +me." + +Jules, unable to bear the scene, was at that moment in the adjoining +room, and did not hear the prayer, which he would doubtless have +fulfilled. + +When this crisis was over, Madame Jules recovered some strength. The +next day she was beautiful and tranquil; hope seemed to come to her; +she adorned herself, as the dying often do. Then she asked to be alone +all day, and sent away her husband with one of those entreaties made +so earnestly that they are granted as we grant the prayer of a little +child. + +Jules, indeed, had need of this day. He went to Monsieur de Maulincour +to demand the satisfaction agreed upon between them. It was not +without great difficulty that he succeeded in reaching the presence of +the author of these misfortunes; but the vidame, when he learned that +the visit related to an affair of honor, obeyed the precepts of his +whole life, and himself took Jules into the baron's chamber. + +Monsieur Desmarets looked about him in search of his antagonist. + +"Yes! that is really he," said the vidame, motioning to a man who was +sitting in an arm-chair beside the fire. + +"Who is it? Jules?" said the dying man in a broken voice. + +Auguste had lost the only faculty that makes us live--memory. Jules +Desmarets recoiled with horror at this sight. He could not even +recognize the elegant young man in that thing without--as Bossuet +said--a name in any language. It was, in truth, a corpse with whitened +hair, its bones scarce covered with a wrinkled, blighted, withered +skin,--a corpse with white eyes motionless, mouth hideously gaping, +like those of idiots or vicious men killed by excesses. No trace of +intelligence remained upon that brow, nor in any feature; nor was +there in that flabby flesh either color or the faintest appearance of +circulating blood. Here was a shrunken, withered creature brought to +the state of those monsters we see preserved in museums, floating in +alchohol. Jules fancied that he saw above that face the terrible head +of Ferragus, and his own anger was silenced by such a vengeance. The +husband found pity in his heart for the vacant wreck of what was once +a man. + +"The duel has taken place," said the vidame. + +"But he has killed many," answered Jules, sorrowfully. + +"And many dear ones," added the old man. "His grandmother is dying; +and I shall follow her soon into the grave." + +On the morrow of this day, Madame Jules grew worse from hour to hour. +She used a moment's strength to take a letter from beneath her pillow, +and gave it eagerly to her husband with a sign that was easy to +understand,--she wished to give him, in a kiss, her last breath. He +took it, and she died. Jules fell half-dead himself and was taken to +his brother's house. There, as he deplored in tears his absence of the +day before, his brother told him that this separation was eagerly +desired by Clemence, who wished to spare him the sight of the +religious paraphernalia, so terrible to tender imaginations, which the +Church displays when conferring the last sacraments upon the dying. + +"You could not have borne it," said his brother. "I could hardly bear +the sight myself, and all the servants wept. Clemence was like a +saint. She gathered strength to bid us all good-bye, and that voice, +heard for the last time, rent our hearts. When she asked pardon for +the pain she might unwillingly have caused her servants, there were +cries and sobs and--" + +"Enough! enough!" said Jules. + +He wanted to be alone, that he might read the last words of the woman +whom all had loved, and who had passed away like a flower. + + "My beloved, this is my last will. Why should we not make wills + for the treasures of our hearts, as for our worldly property? Was + not my love my property, my all? I mean here to dispose of my + love: it was the only fortune of your Clemence, and it is all that + she can leave you in dying. Jules, you love me still, and I die + happy. The doctors may explain my death as they think best; I + alone know the true cause. I shall tell it to you, whatever pain + it may cause you. I cannot carry with me, in a heart all yours, a + secret which you do not share, although I die the victim of an + enforced silence. + + "Jules, I was nurtured and brought up in the deepest solitude, far + from the vices and the falsehoods of the world, by the loving + woman whom you knew. Society did justice to her conventional + charm, for that is what pleases society; but I knew secretly her + precious soul, I could cherish the mother who made my childhood a + joy without bitterness, and I knew why I cherished her. Was not + that to love doubly? Yes, I loved her, I feared her, I respected + her; yet nothing oppressed my heart, neither fear nor respect. I + was all in all to her; she was all in all to me. For nineteen + happy years, without a care, my soul, solitary amid the world + which muttered round me, reflected only her pure image; my heart + beat for her and through her. I was scrupulously pious; I found + pleasure in being innocent before God. My mother cultivated all + noble and self-respecting sentiments in me. Ah! it gives me + happiness to tell you, Jules, that I now know I was indeed a young + girl, and that I came to you virgin in heart. + + "When I left that absolute solitude, when, for the first time, I + braided my hair and crowned it with almond blossoms, when I added, + with delight, a few satin knots to my white dress, thinking of the + world I was to see, and which I was curious to see--Jules, that + innocent and modest coquetry was done for you! Yes, as I entered + the world, I saw /you/ first of all. Your face, I remarked it; it + stood out from the rest; your person pleased me; your voice, your + manners all inspired me with pleasant presentiments. When you came + up, when you spoke to me, the color on your forehead, the tremble + in your voice,--that moment gave me memories with which I throb as + I now write to you, as I now, for the last time, think of them. + Our love was at first the keenest of sympathies, but it was soon + discovered by each of us and then, as speedily, shared; just as, + in after times, we have both equally felt and shared innumerable + happinesses. From that moment my mother was only second in my + heart. Next, I was yours, all yours. There is my life, and all my + life, dear husband. + + "And here is what remains for me to tell you. One evening, a few + days before my mother's death, she revealed to me the secret of + her life,--not without burning tears. I have loved you better + since the day I learned from the priest as he absolved my mother + that there are passions condemned by the world and by the Church. + But surely God will not be severe when they are the sins of souls + as tender as that of my mother; only, that dear woman could never + bring herself to repent. She loved much, Jules; she was all love. + So I have prayed daily for her, but never judged her. + + "That night I learned the cause of her deep maternal tenderness; + then I also learned that there was in Paris a man whose life and + whose love centred on me; that your fortune was his doing, and + that he loved you. I learned also that he was exiled from society + and bore a tarnished name; but that he was more unhappy for me, + for us, than for himself. My mother was all his comfort; she was + dying, and I promised to take her place. With all the ardor of a + soul whose feelings had never been perverted, I saw only the + happiness of softening the bitterness of my mother's last moments, + and I pledged myself to continue her work of secret charity,--the + charity of the heart. The first time that I saw my father was + beside the bed where my mother had just expired. When he raised + his tearful eyes, it was to see in me a revival of his dead hopes. + I had sworn, not to tell a lie, but to keep silence; and that + silence what woman could have broken it? + + "There is my fault, Jules,--a fault which I expiate by death. I + doubted you. But fear is so natural to a woman; above all, a woman + who knows what it is that she may lose. I trembled for our love. + My father's secret seemed to me the death of my happiness; and the + more I loved, the more I feared. I dared not avow this feeling to + my father; it would have wounded him, and in his situation a wound + was agony. But, without a word from me, he shared my fears. That + fatherly heart trembled for my happiness as much as I trembled for + myself; but it dared not speak, obeying the same delicacy that + kept me mute. Yes, Jules, I believed that you could not love the + daughter of Gratien Bourignard as you loved your Clemence. Without + that terror could I have kept back anything from you,--you who + live in every fold of my heart? + + "The day when that odious, unfortunate young officer spoke to you, + I was forced to lie. That day, for the second time in my life, I + knew what pain was; that pain has steadily increased until this + moment, when I speak with you for the last time. What matters now + my father's position? You know all. I could, by the help of my + love, have conquered my illness and borne its sufferings; but I + cannot stifle the voice of doubt. Is it not probable that my + origin would affect the purity of your love and weaken it, + diminish it? That fear nothing has been able to quench in me. + There, Jules, is the cause of my death. I cannot live fearing a + word, a look,--a word you may never say, a look you may never + give; but, I cannot help it, I fear them. I die beloved; there is + my consolation. + + "I have known, for the last three years, that my father and his + friends have well-nigh moved the world to deceive the world. That + I might have a station in life, they have bought a dead man, a + reputation, a fortune, so that a living man might live again, + restored; and all this for you, for us. We were never to have + known of it. Well, my death will save my father from that + falsehood, for he will not survive me. + + "Farewell, Jules, my heart is all here. To show you my love in its + agony of fear, is not that bequeathing my whole soul to you? I + could never have the strength to speak to you; I have only enough + to write. I have just confessed to God the sins of my life. I have + promised to fill my mind with the King of Heaven only; but I must + confess to him who is, for me, the whole of earth. Alas! shall I + not be pardoned for this last sigh between the life that was and + the life that shall be? Farewell, my Jules, my loved one! I go to + God, with whom is Love without a cloud, to whom you will follow + me. There, before his throne, united forever, we may love each + other throughout the ages. This hope alone can comfort me. If I am + worthy of being there at once, I will follow you through life. My + soul shall bear your company; it will wrap you about, for /you/ + must stay here still,--ah! here below. Lead a holy life that you + may the more surely come to me. You can do such good upon this + earth! Is it not an angel's mission for the suffering soul to shed + happiness about him,--to give to others that which he has not? I + bequeath you to the Unhappy. Their smiles, their tears, are the + only ones of which I cannot be jealous. We shall find a charm in + sweet beneficence. Can we not live together still if you would + join my name--your Clemence--in these good works? + + "After loving as we have loved, there is naught but God, Jules. + God does not lie; God never betrays. Adore him only, I charge you! + Lead those who suffer up to him; comfort the sorrowing members of + his Church. Farewell, dear soul that I have filled! I know you; + you will never love again. I may die happy in the thought that + makes all women happy. Yes, my grave will be your heart. After + this childhood I have just related, has not my life flowed on + within that heart? Dead, you will never drive me forth. I am proud + of that rare life! You will know me only in the flower of my + youth; I leave you regrets without disillusions. Jules, it is a + happy death. + + "You, who have so fully understood me, may I ask one thing more of + you,--superfluous request, perhaps, the fulfilment of a woman's + fancy, the prayer of a jealousy we all must feel,--I pray you to + burn all that especially belonged to /us/, destroy our chamber, + annihilate all that is a memory of our happiness. + + "Once more, farewell,--the last farewell! It is all love, and so + will be my parting thought, my parting breath." + +When Jules had read that letter there came into his heart one of those +wild frenzies of which it is impossible to describe the awful anguish. +All sorrows are individual; their effects are not subjected to any +fixed rule. Certain men will stop their ears to hear nothing; some +women close their eyes hoping never to see again; great and splendid +souls are met with who fling themselves into sorrow as into an abyss. +In the matter of despair, all is true. + + + + CHAPTER V + + CONCLUSION + + +Jules escaped from his brother's house and returned home, wishing to +pass the night beside his wife, and see till the last moment that +celestial creature. As he walked along with an indifference to life +known only to those who have reached the last degree of wretchedness, +he thought of how, in India, the law ordained that widows should die; +he longed to die. He was not yet crushed; the fever of his grief was +still upon him. He reached his home and went up into the sacred +chamber; he saw his Clemence on the bed of death, beautiful, like a +saint, her hair smoothly laid upon her forehead, her hands joined, her +body wrapped already in its shroud. Tapers were lighted, a priest was +praying, Josephine kneeling in a corner, wept, and, near the bed, were +two men. One was Ferragus. He stood erect, motionless, gazing at his +daughter with dry eyes; his head you might have taken for bronze: he +did not see Jules. + +The other man was Jacquet,--Jacquet, to whom Madame Jules had been +ever kind. Jacquet felt for her one of those respectful friendships +which rejoice the untroubled heart; a gentle passion; love without its +desires and its storms. He had come to pay his debt of tears, to bid a +long adieu to the wife of his friend, to kiss, for the first time, the +icy brow of the woman he had tacitly made his sister. + +All was silence. Here death was neither terrible as in the churches, +nor pompous as it makes its way along the streets; no, it was death in +the home, a tender death; here were pomps of the heart, tears drawn +from the eyes of all. Jules sat down beside Jacquet and pressed his +hand; then, without uttering a word, all these persons remained as +they were till morning. + +When daylight paled the tapers, Jacquet, foreseeing the painful scenes +which would then take place, drew Jules away into another room. At +this moment the husband looked at the father, and Ferragus looked at +Jules. The two sorrows arraigned each other, measured each other, and +comprehended each other in that look. A flash of fury shone for an +instant in the eyes of Ferragus. + +"You killed her," thought he. + +"Why was I distrusted?" seemed the answer of the husband. + +The scene was one that might have passed between two tigers +recognizing the futility of a struggle and, after a moment's +hesitation, turning away, without even a roar. + +"Jacquet," said Jules, "have you attended to everything?" + +"Yes, to everything," replied his friend, "but a man had forestalled +me who had ordered and paid for all." + +"He tears his daughter from me!" cried the husband, with the violence +of despair. + +Jules rushed back to his wife's room; but the father was there no +longer. Clemence had now been placed in a leaden coffin, and workmen +were employed in soldering the cover. Jules returned, horrified by the +sight; the sound of the hammers the men were using made him +mechanically burst into tears. + +"Jacquet," he said, "out of this dreadful night one idea has come to +me, only one, but one I must make a reality at any price. I cannot let +Clemence stay in any cemetery in Paris. I wish to burn her,--to gather +her ashes and keep her with me. Say nothing of this, but manage on my +behalf to have it done. I am going to /her/ chamber, where I shall +stay until the time has come to go. You alone may come in there to +tell me what you have done. Go, and spare nothing." + +During the morning, Madame Jules, after lying in a mortuary chapel at +the door of her house, was taken to Saint-Roch. The church was hung +with black throughout. The sort of luxury thus displayed had drawn a +crowd; for in Paris all things are sights, even true grief. There are +people who stand at their windows to see how a son deplores a mother +as he follows her body; there are others who hire commodious seats to +see how a head is made to fall. No people in the world have such +insatiate eyes as the Parisians. On this occasion, inquisitive minds +were particularly surprised to see the six lateral chapels at Saint- +Roch also hung in black. Two men in mourning were listening to a +mortuary mass said in each chapel. In the chancel no other persons but +Monsieur Desmarets, the notary, and Jacquet were present; the servants +of the household were outside the screen. To church loungers there was +something inexplicable in so much pomp and so few mourners. But Jules +had been determined that no indifferent persons should be present at +the ceremony. + +High mass was celebrated with the sombre magnificence of funeral +services. Beside the ministers in ordinary of Saint-Roch, thirteen +priests from other parishes were present. Perhaps never did the /Dies +irae/ produce upon Christians, assembled by chance, by curiosity, and +thirsting for emotions, an effect so profound, so nervously glacial as +that now caused by this hymn when the eight voices of the precentors, +accompanied by the voices of the priests and the choir-boys, intoned +it alternately. From the six lateral chapels twelve other childish +voices rose shrilly in grief, mingling with the choir voices +lamentably. From all parts of the church this mourning issued; cries +of anguish responded to the cries of fear. That terrible music was the +voice of sorrows hidden from the world, of secret friendships weeping +for the dead. Never, in any human religion, have the terrors of the +soul, violently torn from the body and stormily shaken in presence of +the fulminating majesty of God, been rendered with such force. Before +that clamor of clamors all artists and their most passionate +compositions must bow humiliated. No, nothing can stand beside that +hymn, which sums all human passions, gives them a galvanic life beyond +the coffin, and leaves them, palpitating still, before the living and +avenging God. These cries of childhood, mingling with the tones of +older voices, including thus in the Song of Death all human life and +its developments, recalling the sufferings of the cradle, swelling to +the griefs of other ages in the stronger male voices and the quavering +of the priests,--all this strident harmony, big with lightning and +thunderbolts, does it not speak with equal force to the daring +imagination, the coldest heart, nay, to philosophers themselves? As we +hear it, we think God speaks; the vaulted arches of no church are mere +material; they have a voice, they tremble, they scatter fear by the +might of their echoes. We think we see unnumbered dead arising and +holding out their hands. It is no more a father, a wife, a child,-- +humanity itself is rising from its dust. + +It is impossible to judge of the catholic, apostolic, and Roman faith, +unless the soul has known that deepest grief of mourning for a loved +one lying beneath the pall; unless it has felt the emotions that fill +the heart, uttered by that Hymn of Despair, by those cries that crush +the mind, by that sacred fear augmenting strophe by strophe, ascending +heavenward, which terrifies, belittles, and elevates the soul, and +leaves within our minds, as the last sound ceases, a consciousness of +immortality. We have met and struggled with the vast idea of the +Infinite. After that, all is silent in the church. No word is said; +sceptics themselves /know not what they are feeling/. Spanish genius +alone was able to bring this untold majesty to untold griefs. + +When the solemn ceremony was over, twelve men came from the six +chapels and stood around the coffin to hear the song of hope which the +Church intones for the Christian soul before the human form is buried. +Then, each man entered alone a mourning-coach; Jacquet and Monsieur +Desmarets took the thirteenth; the servants followed on foot. An hour +later, they were at the summit of that cemetery popularly called Pere- +Lachaise. The unknown twelve men stood in a circle round the grave, +where the coffin had been laid in presence of a crowd of loiterers +gathered from all parts of this public garden. After a few short +prayers the priest threw a handful of earth on the remains of this +woman, and the grave-diggers, having asked for their fee, made haste +to fill the grave in order to dig another. + +Here this history seems to end; but perhaps it would be incomplete if, +after giving a rapid sketch of Parisian life, and following certain of +its capricious undulations, the effects of death were omitted. Death +in Paris is unlike death in any other capital; few persons know the +trials of true grief in its struggle with civilization, and the +government of Paris. Perhaps, also, Monsieur Jules and Ferragus XXIII. +may have proved sufficiently interesting to make a few words on their +after life not entirely out of place. Besides, some persons like to be +told all, and wish, as one of our cleverest critics has remarked, to +know by what chemical process oil was made to burn in Aladdin's lamp. + +Jacquet, being a government employee, naturally applied to the +authorities for permission to exhume the body of Madame Jules and burn +it. He went to see the prefect of police, under whose protection the +dead sleep. That functionary demanded a petition. The blank was +brought that gives to sorrow its proper administrative form; it was +necessary to employ the bureaucratic jargon to express the wishes of a +man so crushed that words, perhaps, were lacking to him, and it was +also necessary to coldly and briefly repeat on the margin the nature +of the request, which was done in these words: "The petitioner +respectfully asks for the incineration of his wife." + +When the official charged with making the report to the Councillor of +State and prefect of police read that marginal note, explaining the +object of the petition, and couched, as requested, in the plainest +terms, he said:-- + +"This is a serious matter! my report cannot be ready under eight +days." + +Jules, to whom Jacquet was obliged to speak of this delay, +comprehended the words that Ferragus had said in his hearing, "I'll +burn Paris!" Nothing seemed to him now more natural than to annihilate +that receptacle of monstrous things. + +"But," he said to Jacquet, "you must go to the minister of the +Interior, and get your minister to speak to him." + +Jacquet went to the minister of the Interior, and asked an audience; +it was granted, but the time appointed was two weeks later. Jacquet +was a persistent man. He travelled from bureau to bureau, and finally +reached the private secretary of the minister of the Interior, to whom +he had made the private secretary of his own minister say a word. +These high protectors aiding, he obtained for the morrow a second +interview, in which, being armed with a line from the autocrat of +Foreign affairs to the pacha of the Interior, Jacquet hoped to carry +the matter by assault. He was ready with reasons, and answers to +peremptory questions,--in short, he was armed at all points; but he +failed. + +"This matter does not concern me," said the minister; "it belongs to +the prefect of police. Besides, there is no law giving a husband any +legal right to the body of his wife, nor to fathers those of their +children. The matter is serious. There are questions of public utility +involved which will have to be examined. The interests of the city of +Paris might suffer. Therefore if the matter depended on me, which it +does not, I could not decide /hic et nunc/; I should require a +report." + +A /report/ is to the present system of administration what limbo or +hades is to Christianity. Jacquet knew very well the mania for +"reports"; he had not waited until this occasion to groan at that +bureaucratic absurdity. He knew that since the invasion into public +business of the /Report/ (an administrative revolution consummated in +1804) there was never known a single minister who would take upon +himself to have an opinion or to decide the slightest matter, unless +that opinion or matter had been winnowed, sifted, and plucked to bits +by the paper-spoilers, quill-drivers, and splendid intellects of his +particular bureau. Jacquet--he was one of those who are worthy of +Plutarch as biographer--saw that he had made a mistake in his +management of the affair, and had, in fact, rendered it impossible by +trying to proceed legally. The thing he should have done was to have +taken Madame Jules to one of Desmaret's estates in the country; and +there, under the good-natured authority of some village mayor to have +gratified the sorrowful longing of his friend. Law, constitutional and +administrative, begets nothing; it is a barren monster for peoples, +for kings, and for private interests. But the peoples decipher no +principles but those that are writ in blood, and the evils of legality +will always be pacific; it flattens a nation down, that is all. +Jacquet, a man of modern liberty, returned home reflecting on the +benefits of arbitrary power. + +When he went with his report to Jules, he found it necessary to +deceive him, for the unhappy man was in a high fever, unable to leave +his bed. The minister of the Interior mentioned, at a ministerial +dinner that same evening, the singular fancy of a Parisian in wishing +to burn his wife after the manner of the Romans. The clubs of Paris +took up the subject, and talked for a while of the burials of +antiquity. Ancient things were just then becoming a fashion, and some +persons declared that it would be a fine thing to re-establish, for +distinguished persons, the funeral pyre. This opinion had its +defenders and its detractors. Some said that there were too many such +personages, and the price of wood would be enormously increased by +such a custom; moreover, it would be absurd to see our ancestors in +their urns in the procession at Longchamps. And if the urns were +valuable, they were likely some day to be sold at auction, full of +respectable ashes, or seized by creditors,--a race of men who +respected nothing. The other side made answer that our ancestors were +much safer in urns than at Pere-Lachaise, for before very long the +city of Paris would be compelled to order a Saint-Bartholomew against +its dead, who were invading the neighboring country, and threatening +to invade the territory of Brie. It was, in short, one of those futile +but witty discussions which sometimes cause deep and painful wounds. +Happily for Jules, he knew nothing of the conversations, the witty +speeches, and arguments which his sorrow had furnished to the tongues +of Paris. + +The prefect of police was indignant that Monsieur Jacquet had appealed +to a minister to avoid the wise delays of the commissioners of the +public highways; for the exhumation of Madame Jules was a question +belonging to that department. The police bureau was doing its best to +reply promptly to the petition; one appeal was quite sufficient to set +the office in motion, and once in motion matters would go far. But as +for the administration, that might take the case before the Council of +state,--a machine very difficult indeed to move. + +After the second day Jacquet was obliged to tell his friend that he +must renounce his desire, because, in a city where the number of tears +shed on black draperies is tariffed, where the laws recognize seven +classes of funerals, where the scrap of ground to hold the dead is +sold at its weight in silver, where grief is worked for what it is +worth, where the prayers of the Church are costly, and the vestry +claim payment for extra voices in the /Dies irae/,--all attempt to get +out of the rut prescribed by the authorities for sorrow is useless and +impossible. + +"It would have been to me," said Jules, "a comfort in my misery. I +meant to have died away from here, and I hoped to hold her in my arms +in a distant grave. I did not know that bureaucracy could send its +claws into our very coffins." + +He now wished to see if room had been left for him beside his wife. +The two friends went to the cemetery. When they reached it they found +(as at the doors of museums, galleries, and coach-offices) /ciceroni/, +who proposed to guide them through the labyrinth of Pere-Lachaise. +Neither Jules nor Jacquet could have found the spot where Clemence +lay. Ah, frightful anguish! They went to the lodge to consult the +porter of the cemetery. The dead have a porter, and there are hours +when the dead are "not receiving." It is necessary to upset all the +rules and regulations of the upper and lower police to obtain +permission to weep at night, in silence and solitude, over the grave +where a loved one lies. There's a rule for summer and a rule for +winter about this. + +Certainly, of all the porters in Paris, the porter of Pere-Lachaise is +the luckiest. In the first place, he has no gate-cord to pull; then, +instead of a lodge, he has a house,--an establishment which is not +quite ministerial, although a vast number of persons come under his +administration, and a good many employees. And this governor of the +dead has a salary, with emoluments, and acts under powers of which +none complain; he plays despot at his ease. His lodge is not a place +of business, though it has departments where the book-keeping of +receipts, expenses, and profits, is carried on. The man is not a +/suisse/, nor a concierge, nor actually a porter. The gate which +admits the dead stands wide open; and though there are monuments and +buildings to be cared for, he is not a care-taker. In short, he is an +indefinable anomaly, an authority which participates in all, and yet +is nothing,--an authority placed, like the dead on whom it is based, +outside of all. Nevertheless, this exceptional man grows out of the +city of Paris,--that chimerical creation like the ship which is its +emblem, that creature of reason moving on a thousand paws which are +seldom unanimous in motion. + +This guardian of the cemetery may be called a concierge who has +reached the condition of a functionary, not soluble by dissolution! +His place is far from being a sinecure. He does not allow any one to +be buried without a permit; he must count his dead. He points out to +you in this vast field the six feet square of earth where you will one +day put all you love, or all you hate, a mistress, or a cousin. Yes, +remember this: all the feelings and emotions of Paris come to end +here, at this porter's lodge, where they are administrationized. This +man has registers in which his dead are booked; they are in their +graves, and also on his records. He has under him keepers, gardeners, +grave-diggers, and their assistants. He is a personage. Mourning +hearts do not speak to him at first. He does not appear at all except +in serious cases, such as one corpse mistaken for another, a murdered +body, an exhumation, a dead man coming to life. The bust of the +reigning king is in his hall; possibly he keeps the late royal, +imperial, and quasi-royal busts in some cupboard,--a sort of little +Pere-Lachaise all ready for revolutions. In short, he is a public man, +an excellent man, good husband and good father,--epitaph apart. But so +many diverse sentiments have passed before him on biers; he has seen +so many tears, true and false; he has beheld sorrow under so many +aspects and on so many faces; he has heard such endless thousands of +eternal woes,--that to him sorrow has come to be nothing more than a +stone an inch thick, four feet long, and twenty-four inches wide. As +for regrets, they are the annoyances of his office; he neither +breakfasts nor dines without first wiping off the rain of an +inconsolable affliction. He is kind and tender to other feelings; he +will weep over a stage-hero, over Monsieur Germeuil in the "Auberge +des Adrets," the man with the butter-colored breeches, murdered by +Macaire; but his heart is ossified in the matter of real dead men. +Dead men are ciphers, numbers, to him; it is his business to organize +death. Yet he does meet, three times in a century, perhaps, with an +occasion when his part becomes sublime, and then he /is/ sublime +through every hour of his day,--in times of pestilence. + +When Jacquet approached him this absolute monarch was evidently out of +temper. + +"I told you," he was saying, "to water the flowers from the rue +Massena to the place Regnault de Saint-Jean-d'Angely. You paid no +attention to me! /Sac-a-papier/! suppose the relations should take it +into their heads to come here to-day because the weather is fine, what +would they say to me? They'd shriek as if they were burned; they'd say +horrid things of us, and calumniate us--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, "we want to know where Madame Jules is +buried." + +"Madame Jules /who/?" he asked. "We've had three Madame Jules within +the last week. Ah," he said, interrupting himself, "here comes the +funeral of Monsieur le Baron de Maulincour! A fine procession, that! +He has soon followed his grandmother. Some families, when they begin +to go, rattle down like a wager. Lots of bad blood in Parisians." + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, touching him on the arm, "the person I spoke +of is Madame Jules Desmarets, the wife of the broker of that name." + +"Ah, I know!" he replied, looking at Jacquet. "Wasn't it a funeral +with thirteen mourning coaches, and only one mourner in the twelve +first? It was so droll we all noticed it--" + +"Monsieur, take care, Monsieur Desmarets is with me; he might hear +you, and what you say is not seemly." + +"I beg pardon, monsieur! you are quite right. Excuse me, I took you +for heirs. Monsieur," he continued, after consulting a plan of the +cemetery, "Madame Jules is in the rue Marechal Lefebre, alley No. 4, +between Mademoiselle Raucourt, of the Comedie-Francaise, and Monsieur +Moreau-Malvin, a butcher, for whom a handsome tomb in white marble has +been ordered, which will be one of the finest in the cemetery--" + +"Monsieur," said Jacquet, interrupting him, "that does not help us." + +"True," said the official, looking round him. "Jean," he cried, to a +man whom he saw at a little distance, "conduct these gentlemen to the +grave of Madame Jules Desmarets, the broker's wife. You know where it +is,--near to Mademoiselle Raucourt, the tomb where there's a bust." + +The two friends followed the guide; but they did not reach the steep +path which leads to the upper part of the cemetery without having to +pass through a score of proposals and requests, made, with honied +softness, by the touts of marble-workers, iron-founders, and +monumental sculptors. + +"If monsieur would like to order /something/, we would do it on the +most reasonable terms." + +Jacquet was fortunate enough to be able to spare his friend the +hearing of these proposals so agonizing to bleeding hearts; and +presently they reached the resting-place. When Jules beheld the earth +so recently dug, into which the masons had stuck stakes to mark the +place for the stone posts required to support the iron railing, he +turned, and leaned upon Jacquet's shoulder, raising himself now and +again to cast long glances at the clay mound where he was forced to +leave the remains of the being in and by whom he still lived. + +"How miserably she lies there!" he said. + +"But she is not there," said Jacquet, "she is in your memory. Come, +let us go; let us leave this odious cemetery, where the dead are +adorned like women for a ball." + +"Suppose we take her away?" + +"Can it be done?" + +"All things can be done!" cried Jules. "So, I shall lie there," he +added, after a pause. "There is room enough." + +Jacquet finally succeeded in getting him to leave the great enclosure, +divided like a chessboard by iron railings and elegant compartments, +in which were tombs decorated with palms, inscriptions, and tears as +cold as the stones on which sorrowing hearts had caused to be carved +their regrets and coats of arms. Many good words are there engraved in +black letters, epigrams reproving the curious, /concetti/, wittily +turned farewells, rendezvous given at which only one side appears, +pretentious biographies, glitter, rubbish and tinsel. Here the +floriated thyrsus, there a lance-head, farther on Egyptian urns, now +and then a few cannon; on all sides the emblems of professions, and +every style of art,--Moorish, Greek, Gothic,--friezes, ovules, +paintings, vases, guardian-angels, temples, together with innumerable +/immortelles/, and dead rose-bushes. It is a forlorn comedy! It is +another Paris, with its streets, its signs, its industries, and its +lodgings; but a Paris seen through the diminishing end of an opera- +glass, a microscopic Paris reduced to the littleness of shadows, +spectres, dead men, a human race which no longer has anything great +about it, except its vanity. There Jules saw at his feet, in the long +valley of the Seine, between the slopes of Vaugirard and Meudon and +those of Belleville and Montmartre, the real Paris, wrapped in a misty +blue veil produced by smoke, which the sunlight tendered at that +moment diaphanous. He glanced with a constrained eye at those forty +thousand houses, and said, pointing to the space comprised between the +column of the Place Vendome and the gilded cupola of the Invalides:-- + +"She was wrenched from me there by the fatal curiosity of that world +which excites itself and meddles solely for excitement and +occupation." + +Twelve miles from where they were, on the banks of the Seine, in a +modest village lying on the slope of a hill of that long hilly basin +the middle of which great Paris stirs like a child in its cradle, a +death scene was taking place, far indeed removed from Parisian pomps, +with no accompaniment of torches or tapers or mourning-coaches, +without prayers of the Church, in short, a death in all simplicity. +Here are the facts: The body of a young girl was found early in the +morning, stranded on the river-bank in the slime and reeds of the +Seine. Men employed in dredging sand saw it as they were getting into +their frail boat on their way to their work. + +"/Tiens/! fifty francs earned!" said one of them. + +"True," said the other. + +They approached the body. + +"A handsome girl! We had better go and make our statement." + +And the two dredgers, after covering the body with their jackets, went +to the house of the village mayor, who was much embarrassed at having +to make out the legal papers necessitated by this discovery. + +The news of this event spread with the telegraphic rapidity peculiar +to regions where social communications have no distractions, where +gossip, scandal, calumny, in short, the social tale which feasts the +world has no break of continuity from one boundary to another. Before +long, persons arriving at the mayor's office released him from all +embarrassment. They were able to convert the /proces-verbal/ into a +mere certificate of death, by recognizing the body as that of the +Demoiselle Ida Gruget, corset-maker, living rue de la Corderie-du- +Temple, number 14. The judiciary police of Paris arrived, and the +mother, bearing her daughter's last letter. Amid the mother's moans, a +doctor certified to death by asphyxia, through the injection of black +blood into the pulmonary system,--which settled the matter. The +inquest over, and the certificates signed, by six o'clock the same +evening authority was given to bury the grisette. The rector of the +parish, however, refused to receive her into the church or to pray for +her. Ida Gruget was therefore wrapped in a shroud by an old peasant- +woman, put into a common pine-coffin, and carried to the village +cemetery by four men, followed by a few inquisitive peasant-women, who +talked about the death with wonder mingled with some pity. + +The widow Gruget was charitably taken in by an old lady who prevented +her from following the sad procession of her daughter's funeral. A man +of triple functions, the bell-ringer, beadle, and grave-digger of the +parish, had dug a grave in the half-acre cemetery behind the church,-- +a church well known, a classic church, with a square tower and pointed +roof covered with slate, supported on the outside by strong corner +buttresses. Behind the apse of the chancel, lay the cemetery, enclosed +with a dilapidated wall,--a little field full of hillocks; no marble +monuments, no visitors, but surely in every furrow, tears and true +regrets, which were lacking to Ida Gruget. She was cast into a corner +full of tall grass and brambles. After the coffin had been laid in +this field, so poetic in its simplicity, the grave-digger found +himself alone, for night was coming on. While filling the grave, he +stopped now and then to gaze over the wall along the road. He was +standing thus, resting on his spade, and looking at the Seine, which +had brought him the body. + +"Poor girl!" cried the voice of a man who suddenly appeared. + +"How you made me jump, monsieur," said the grave-digger. + +"Was any service held over the body you are burying?" + +"No, monsieur. Monsieur le cure wasn't willing. This is the first +person buried here who didn't belong to the parish. Everybody knows +everybody else in this place. Does monsieur--Why, he's gone!" + +Some days had elapsed when a man dressed in black called at the house +of Monsieur Jules Desmarets, and without asking to see him carried up +to the chamber of his wife a large porphyry vase, on which were +inscribed the words:-- + + + INVITA LEGE + CONJUGI MOERENTI + FILIOLAE CINERES + RESTITUIT + AMICIS XII. JUVANTIBUS + MORIBUNDUS PATER. + + +"What a man!" cried Jules, bursting into tears. + +Eight days sufficed the husband to obey all the wishes of his wife, +and to arrange his own affairs. He sold his practice to a brother of +Martin Falleix, and left Paris while the authorities were still +discussing whether it was lawful for a citizen to dispose of the body +of his wife. + +***** + +Who has not encountered on the boulevards of Paris, at the turn of a +street, or beneath the arcades of the Palais-Royal, or in any part of +the world where chance may offer him the sight, a being, man or woman, +at whose aspect a thousand confused thoughts spring into his mind? At +that sight we are suddenly interested, either by features of some +fantastic conformation which reveal an agitated life, or by a singular +effect of the whole person, produced by gestures, air, gait, clothes; +or by some deep, intense look; or by other inexpressible signs which +seize our minds suddenly and forcibly without our being able to +explain even to ourselves the cause of our emotion. The next day other +thoughts and other images have carried out of sight that passing +dream. But if we meet the same personage again, either passing at some +fixed hour, like the clerk of a mayor's office, or wandering about the +public promenades, like those individuals who seem to be a sort of +furniture of the streets of Paris, and who are always to be found in +public places, at first representations or noted restaurants,--then +this being fastens himself or herself on our memory, and remains there +like the first volume of a novel the end of which is lost. We are +tempted to question this unknown person, and say, "Who are you?" "Why +are you lounging here?" "By what right do you wear that pleated +ruffle, that faded waistcoat, and carry that cane with an ivory top; +why those blue spectacles; for what reason do you cling to that cravat +of a dead and gone fashion?" Among these wandering creations some +belong to the species of the Greek Hermae; they say nothing to the +soul; /they are there/, and that is all. Why? is known to none. Such +figure are a type of those used by sculptors for the four Seasons, for +Commerce, for Plenty, etc. Some others--former lawyers, old merchants, +elderly generals--move and walk, and yet seem stationary. Like old +trees that are half uprooted by the current of a river, they seem +never to take part in the torrent of Paris, with its youthful, active +crowd. It is impossible to know if their friends have forgotten to +bury them, or whether they have escaped out of their coffins. At any +rate, they have reached the condition of semi-fossils. + +One of these Parisian Melmoths had come within a few days into a +neighborhood of sober, quiet people, who, when the weather is fine, +are invariably to be found in the space which lies between the south +entrance of the Luxembourg and the north entrance of the Observatoire, +--a space without a name, the neutral space of Paris. There, Paris is +no longer; and there, Paris still lingers. The spot is a mingling of +street, square, boulevard, fortification, garden, avenue, high-road, +province, and metropolis; certainly, all of that is to be found there, +and yet the place is nothing of all that,--it is a desert. Around this +spot without a name stand the Foundling hospital, the Bourbe, the +Cochin hospital, the Capucines, the hospital La Rochefoucauld, the +Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the hospital of the Val-de-Grace; in short, all +the vices and all the misfortunes of Paris find their asylum there. +And (that nothing may lack in this philanthropic centre) Science there +studies the tides and longitudes, Monsieur de Chateaubriand has +erected the Marie-Therese Infirmary, and the Carmelites have founded a +convent. The great events of life are represented by bells which ring +incessantly through this desert,--for the mother giving birth, for the +babe that is born, for the vice that succumbs, for the toiler who +dies, for the virgin who prays, for the old man shaking with cold, for +genius self-deluded. And a few steps off is the cemetery of Mont- +Parnasse, where, hour after hour, the sorry funerals of the faubourg +Saint-Marceau wend their way. This esplanade, which commands a view of +Paris, has been taken possession of by bowl-players; it is, in fact, a +sort of bowling green frequented by old gray faces, belonging to +kindly, worthy men, who seem to continue the race of our ancestors, +whose countenances must only be compared with those of their +surroundings. + +The man who had become, during the last few days, an inhabitant of +this desert region, proved an assiduous attendant at these games of +bowls; and must, undoubtedly, be considered the most striking creature +of these various groups, who (if it is permissible to liken Parisians +to the different orders of zoology) belonged to the genus mollusk. The +new-comer kept sympathetic step with the /cochonnet/,--the little bowl +which serves as a goal and on which the interest of the game must +centre. He leaned against a tree when the /cochonnet/ stopped; then, +with the same attention that a dog gives to his master's gestures, he +looked at the other bowls flying through the air, or rolling along the +ground. You might have taken him for the weird and watchful genii of +the /cochonnet/. He said nothing; and the bowl-players--the most +fanatic men that can be encountered among the sectarians of any faith +--had never asked the reason of his dogged silence; in fact, the most +observing of them thought him deaf and dumb. + +When it happened that the distances between the bowls and the +/cochonnet/ had to be measured, the cane of this silent being was used +as a measure, the players coming up and taking it from the icy hands +of the old man and returning it without a word or even a sign of +friendliness. The loan of his cane seemed a servitude to which he had +negatively consented. When a shower fell, he stayed near the +/cochonnet/, the slave of the bowls, and the guardian of the +unfinished game. Rain affected him no more than the fine weather did; +he was, like the players themselves, an intermediary species between a +Parisian who has the lowest intellect of his kind and an animal which +has the highest. + +In other respects, pallid and shrunken, indifferent to his own person, +vacant in mind, he often came bareheaded, showing his sparse white +hair, and his square, yellow, bald skull, like the knee of a beggar +seen through his tattered trousers. His mouth was half-open, no ideas +were in his glance, no precise object appeared in his movements; he +never smiled; he never raised his eyes to heaven, but kept them +habitually on the ground, where he seemed to be looking for something. +At four o'clock an old woman arrived, to take him Heaven knows where; +which she did by towing him along by the arm, as a young girl drags a +wilful goat which still wants to browse by the wayside. This old man +was a horrible thing to see. + +In the afternoon of the day when Jules Desmarets left Paris, his +travelling-carriage, in which he was alone, passed rapidly through the +rue de l'Est, and came out upon the esplanade of the Observatoire at +the moment when the old man, leaning against a tree, had allowed his +cane to be taken from his hand amid the noisy vociferations of the +players, pacifically irritated. Jules, thinking that he recognized +that face, felt an impulse to stop, and at the same instant the +carriage came to a standstill; for the postilion, hemmed in by some +handcarts, had too much respect for the game to call upon the players +to make way for him. + +"It is he!" said Jules, beholding in that human wreck, Ferragus +XXIII., chief of the Devorants. Then, after a pause, he added, "How he +loved her!--Go on, postilion." + + + +PARIS, February, 1833. + + + +ADDENDUM + + Note: Ferragus is the first part of a trilogy. Part two is + entitled The Duchesse de Langeais and part three is The Girl with + the Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + +Desmartes, Jules + Cesar Birotteau + +Desmartes, Madame Jules + Cesar Birotteau + +Desplein + The Atheist's Mass + Cousin Pons + Lost Illusions + The Government Clerks + Pierrette + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Honorine + +Gruget, Madame Etienne + The Government Clerks + A Bachelor's Establishment + +Haudry (doctor) + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor's Establishment + The Seamy Side of History + Cousin Pons + +Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + The Duchesse of Langeais + +Marsay, Henri de + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + +Maulincour, Baronne de + A Marriage Settlement + +Meynardie, Madame + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + +Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + +Pamiers, Vidame de + The Duchesse of Langeais + Jealousies of a Country Town + +Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Duchess of Langeais + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + +Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + The Duchesse of Langeais + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + + + + II. + + + + THE DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS + + By HONORE DE BALZAC + + + Translated by Ellen Marriage + + + + DEDICATION + + To Franz Liszt. + + + +In a Spanish city on an island in the Mediterranean, there stands +a convent of the Order of Barefoot Carmelites, where the rule +instituted by St. Theresa is still preserved with all the first +rigour of the reformation brought about by that illustrious +woman. Extraordinary as this may seem, it is none the less true. + +Almost every religious house in the Peninsula, or in Europe for +that matter, was either destroyed or disorganised by the outbreak +of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic wars; but as this +island was protected through those times by the English fleet, +its wealthy convent and peaceable inhabitants were secure from +the general trouble and spoliation. The storms of many kinds +which shook the first fifteen years of the nineteenth century +spent their force before they reached those cliffs at so short a +distance from the coast of Andalusia. + +If the rumour of the Emperor's name so much as reached the shore +of the island, it is doubtful whether the holy women kneeling in +the cloisters grasped the reality of his dream-like progress of +glory, or the majesty that blazed in flame across kingdom after +kingdom during his meteor life. + +In the minds of the Roman Catholic world, the convent stood out +pre-eminent for a stern discipline which nothing had changed; the +purity of its rule had attracted unhappy women from the furthest +parts of Europe, women deprived of all human ties, sighing after +the long suicide accomplished in the breast of God. No convent, +indeed, was so well fitted for that complete detachment of the +soul from all earthly things, which is demanded by the religious +life, albeit on the continent of Europe there are many convents +magnificently adapted to the purpose of their existence. Buried +away in the loneliest valleys, hanging in mid-air on the steepest +mountainsides, set down on the brink of precipices, in every +place man has sought for the poetry of the Infinite, the solemn +awe of Silence; in every place man has striven to draw closer to +God, seeking Him on mountain peaks, in the depths below the +crags, at the cliff's edge; and everywhere man has found God. +But nowhere, save on this half-European, half-African ledge of +rock could you find so many different harmonies, combining so to +raise the soul, that the sharpest pain comes to be like other +memories; the strongest impressions are dulled, till the sorrows +of life are laid to rest in the depths. + +The convent stands on the highest point of the crags at the +uttermost end of the island. On the side towards the sea the +rock was once rent sheer away in some globe-cataclysm; it rises +up a straight wall from the base where the waves gnaw at the +stone below high-water mark. Any assault is made impossible by +the dangerous reefs that stretch far out to sea, with the +sparkling waves of the Mediterranean playing over them. So, only +from the sea can you discern the square mass of the convent built +conformably to the minute rules laid down as to the shape, +height, doors, and windows of monastic buildings. From the side +of the town, the church completely hides the solid structure of +the cloisters and their roofs, covered with broad slabs of stone +impervious to sun or storm or gales of wind. + +The church itself, built by the munificence of a Spanish family, +is the crowning edifice of the town. Its fine, bold front gives +an imposing and picturesque look to the little city in the sea. +The sight of such a city, with its close-huddled roofs, arranged +for the most part amphitheatre-wise above a picturesque harbour, +and crowned by a glorious cathedral front with triple-arched +Gothic doorways, belfry towers, and filigree spires, is a +spectacle surely in every way the sublimest on earth. Religion +towering above daily life, to put men continually in mind of the +End and the way, is in truth a thoroughly Spanish conception. +But now surround this picture by the Mediterranean, and a burning +sky, imagine a few palms here and there, a few stunted evergreen +trees mingling their waving leaves with the motionless flowers +and foliage of carved stone; look out over the reef with its +white fringes of foam in contrast to the sapphire sea; and then +turn to the city, with its galleries and terraces whither the +townsfolk come to take the air among their flowers of an evening, +above the houses and the tops of the trees in their little +gardens; add a few sails down in the harbour; and lastly, in the +stillness of falling night, listen to the organ music, the +chanting of the services, the wonderful sound of bells pealing +out over the open sea. There is sound and silence everywhere; +oftener still there is silence over all. + +The church is divided within into a sombre mysterious nave and +narrow aisles. For some reason, probably because the winds are +so high, the architect was unable to build the flying buttresses +and intervening chapels which adorn almost all cathedrals, nor +are there openings of any kind in the walls which support the +weight of the roof. Outside there is simply the heavy wall +structure, a solid mass of grey stone further strengthened by +huge piers placed at intervals. Inside, the nave and its little +side galleries are lighted entirely by the great stained-glass +rose-window suspended by a miracle of art above the centre +doorway; for upon that side the exposure permits of the display +of lacework in stone and of other beauties peculiar to the style +improperly called Gothic. + +The larger part of the nave and aisles was left for the +townsfolk, who came and went and heard mass there. The choir was +shut off from the rest of the church by a grating and thick folds +of brown curtain, left slightly apart in the middle in such a way +that nothing of the choir could be seen from the church except +the high altar and the officiating priest. The grating itself +was divided up by the pillars which supported the organ loft; and +this part of the structure, with its carved wooden columns, +completed the line of the arcading in the gallery carried by the +shafts in the nave. If any inquisitive person, therefore, had +been bold enough to climb upon the narrow balustrade in the +gallery to look down into the choir, he could have seen nothing +but the tall eight-sided windows of stained glass beyond the high +altar. + +At the time of the French expedition into Spain to establish +Ferdinand VII once more on the throne, a French general came to +the island after the taking of Cadiz, ostensibly to require the +recognition of the King's Government, really to see the convent +and to find some means of entering it. The undertaking was +certainly a delicate one; but a man of passionate temper, whose +life had been, as it were, but one series of poems in action, a +man who all his life long had lived romances instead of writing +them, a man pre-eminently a Doer, was sure to be tempted by a +deed which seemed to be impossible. + +To open the doors of a convent of nuns by lawful means! The +metropolitan or the Pope would scarcely have permitted it! And +as for force or strategem--might not any indiscretion cost him +his position, his whole career as a soldier, and the end in view +to boot? The Duc d'Angouleme was still in Spain; and of all the +crimes which a man in favour with the Commander-in-Chief might +commit, this one alone was certain to find him inexorable. The +General had asked for the mission to gratify private motives of +curiosity, though never was curiosity more hopeless. This final +attempt was a matter of conscience. The Carmelite convent on the +island was the only nunnery in Spain which had baffled his +search. + +As he crossed from the mainland, scarcely an hour's distance, he +felt a presentiment that his hopes were to be fulfilled; and +afterwards, when as yet he had seen nothing of the convent but +its walls, and of the nuns not so much as their robes; while he +had merely heard the chanting of the service, there were dim +auguries under the walls and in the sound of the voices to +justify his frail hope. And, indeed, however faint those so +unaccountable presentiments might be, never was human passion +more vehemently excited than the General's curiosity at that +moment. There are no small events for the heart; the heart +exaggerates everything; the heart weighs the fall of a +fourteen-year-old Empire and the dropping of a woman's glove in +the same scales, and the glove is nearly always the heavier of +the two. So here are the facts in all their prosaic simplicity. +The facts first, the emotions will follow. + +An hour after the General landed on the island, the royal +authority was re-established there. Some few Constitutional +Spaniards who had found their way thither after the fall of Cadiz +were allowed to charter a vessel and sail for London. So there +was neither resistance nor reaction. But the change of +government could not be effected in the little town without a +mass, at which the two divisions under the General's command were +obliged to be present. Now, it was upon this mass that the +General had built his hopes of gaining some information as to the +sisters in the convent; he was quite unaware how absolutely the +Carmelites were cut off from the world; but he knew that there +might be among them one whom he held dearer than life, dearer +than honour. + +His hopes were cruelly dashed at once. Mass, it is true, was +celebrated in state. In honour of such a solemnity, the curtains +which always hid the choir were drawn back to display its riches, +its valuable paintings and shrines so bright with gems that they +eclipsed the glories of the ex-votos of gold and silver hung up +by sailors of the port on the columns in the nave. But all the +nuns had taken refuge in the organ-loft. And yet, in spite of +this first check, during this very mass of thanksgiving, the most +intimately thrilling drama that ever set a man's heart beating +opened out widely before him. + +The sister who played the organ aroused such intense enthusiasm, +that not a single man regretted that he had come to the service. +Even the men in the ranks were delighted, and the officers were +in ecstasy. As for the General, he was seemingly calm and +indifferent. The sensations stirred in him as the sister played +one piece after another belong to the small number of things +which it is not lawful to utter; words are powerless to express +them; like death, God, eternity, they can only be realised +through their one point of contact with humanity. Strangely +enough, the organ music seemed to belong to the school of +Rossini, the musician who brings most human passion into his art. + +Some day his works, by their number and extent, will receive the +reverence due to the Homer of music. From among all the scores +that we owe to his great genius, the nun seemed to have chosen +Moses in Egypt for special study, doubtless because the spirit of +sacred music finds therein its supreme expression. Perhaps the +soul of the great musician, so gloriously known to Europe, and +the soul of this unknown executant had met in the intuitive +apprehension of the same poetry. So at least thought two +dilettanti officers who must have missed the Theatre Favart in +Spain. + +At last in the Te Deum no one could fail to discern a French soul +in the sudden change that came over the music. Joy for the +victory of the Most Christian King evidently stirred this nun's +heart to the depths. She was a Frenchwoman beyond mistake. Soon +the love of country shone out, breaking forth like shafts of +light from the fugue, as the sister introduced variations with +all a Parisienne's fastidious taste, and blended vague +suggestions of our grandest national airs with her music. A +Spaniard's fingers would not have brought this warmth into a +graceful tribute paid to the victorious arms of France. The +musician's nationality was revealed. + +"We find France everywhere, it seems," said one of the men. + +The General had left the church during the Te Deum; he could not +listen any longer. The nun's music had been a revelation of a +woman loved to frenzy; a woman so carefully hidden from the +world's eyes, so deeply buried in the bosom of the Church, that +hitherto the most ingenious and persistent efforts made by men +who brought great influence and unusual powers to bear upon the +search had failed to find her. The suspicion aroused in the +General's heart became all but a certainty with the vague +reminiscence of a sad, delicious melody, the air of Fleuve du +Tage. The woman he loved had played the prelude to the ballad in +a boudoir in Paris, how often! and now this nun had chosen the +song to express an exile's longing, amid the joy of those that +triumphed. Terrible sensation! To hope for the resurrection of +a lost love, to find her only to know that she was lost, to catch +a mysterious glimpse of her after five years--five years, in +which the pent-up passion, chafing in an empty life, had grown +the mightier for every fruitless effort to satisfy it! + +Who has not known, at least once in his life, what it is to lose +some precious thing; and after hunting through his papers, +ransacking his memory, and turning his house upside down; after +one or two days spent in vain search, and hope, and despair; +after a prodigious expenditure of the liveliest irritation of +soul, who has not known the ineffable pleasure of finding that +all-important nothing which had come to be a king of monomania? +Very good. Now, spread that fury of search over five years; put +a woman, put a heart, put love in the place of the trifle; +transpose the monomania into the key of high passion; and, +furthermore, let the seeker be a man of ardent temper, with a +lion's heart and a leonine head and mane, a man to inspire awe +and fear in those who come in contact with him--realise this, and +you may, perhaps, understand why the General walked abruptly out +of the church when the first notes of a ballad, which he used to +hear with a rapture of delight in a gilt-panelled boudoir, began +to vibrate along the aisles of the church in the sea. + +The General walked away down the steep street which led to the +port, and only stopped when he could not hear the deep notes of +the organ. Unable to think of anything but the love which broke +out in volcanic eruption, filling his heart with fire, he only +knew that the Te Deum was over when the Spanish congregation came +pouring out of the church. Feeling that his behaviour and +attitude might seem ridiculous, he went back to head the +procession, telling the alcalde and the governor that, feeling +suddenly faint, he had gone out into the air. Casting about for +a plea for prolonging his stay, it at once occurred to him to +make the most of this excuse, framed on the spur of the moment. +He declined, on a plea of increasing indisposition, to preside at +the banquet given by the town to the French officers, betook +himself to his bed, and sent a message to the Major-General, to +the effect that temporary illness obliged him to leave the +Colonel in command of the troops for the time being. This +commonplace but very plausible stratagem relieved him of all +responsibility for the time necessary to carry out his plans. +The General, nothing if not "catholic and monarchical," took +occasion to inform himself of the hours of the services, and +manifested the greatest zeal for the performance of his religious +duties, piety which caused no remark in Spain. + +The very next day, while the division was marching out of the +town, the General went to the convent to be present at vespers. +He found an empty church. The townsfolk, devout though they +were, had all gone down to the quay to watch the embarkation of +the troops. He felt glad to be the only man there. He tramped +noisily up the nave, clanking his spurs till the vaulted roof +rang with the sound; he coughed, he talked aloud to himself to +let the nuns know, and more particularly to let the organist know +that if the troops were gone, one Frenchman was left behind. Was +this singular warning heard and understood? He thought so. It +seemed to him that in the Magnificat the organ made response +which was borne to him on the vibrating air. The nun's spirit +found wings in music and fled towards him, throbbing with the +rhythmical pulse of the sounds. Then, in all its might, the +music burst forth and filled the church with warmth. The Song of +Joy set apart in the sublime liturgy of Latin Christianity to +express the exaltation of the soul in the presence of the glory +of the ever-living God, became the utterance of a heart almost +terrified by its gladness in the presence of the glory of a +mortal love; a love that yet lived, a love that had risen to +trouble her even beyond the grave in which the nun is laid, that +she may rise again as the bride of Christ. + +The organ is in truth the grandest, the most daring, the most +magnificent of all instruments invented by human genius. It is a +whole orchestra in itself. It can express anything in response +to a skilled touch. Surely it is in some sort a pedestal on +which the soul poises for a flight forth into space, essaying on +her course to draw picture after picture in an endless series, to +paint human life, to cross the Infinite that separates heaven +from earth? And the longer a dreamer listens to those giant +harmonies, the better he realises that nothing save this +hundred-voiced choir on earth can fill all the space between +kneeling men, and a God hidden by the blinding light of the +Sanctuary. The music is the one interpreter strong enough to +bear up the prayers of humanity to heaven, prayer in its +omnipotent moods, prayer tinged by the melancholy of many +different natures, coloured by meditative ecstasy, upspringing +with the impulse of repentance--blended with the myriad fancies +of every creed. Yes. In those long vaulted aisles the melodies +inspired by the sense of things divine are blent with a grandeur +unknown before, are decked with new glory and might. Out of the +dim daylight, and the deep silence broken by the chanting of the +choir in response to the thunder of the organ, a veil is woven +for God, and the brightness of His attributes shines through it. + +And this wealth of holy things seemed to be flung down like a +grain of incense upon the fragile altar raised to Love beneath +the eternal throne of a jealous and avenging God. Indeed, in the +joy of the nun there was little of that awe and gravity which +should harmonise with the solemnities of the Magnificat. She had +enriched the music with graceful variations, earthly gladness +throbbing through the rhythm of each. In such brilliant +quivering notes some great singer might strive to find a voice +for her love, her melodies fluttered as a bird flutters about her +mate. There were moments when she seemed to leap back into the +past, to dally there now with laughter, now with tears. Her +changing moods, as it were, ran riot. She was like a woman +excited and happy over her lover's return. + +But at length, after the swaying fugues of delirium, after the +marvellous rendering of a vision of the past, a revulsion swept +over the soul that thus found utterance for itself. With a swift +transition from the major to the minor, the organist told her +hearer of her present lot. She gave the story of long melancholy +broodings, of the slow course of her moral malady. How day by +day she deadened the senses, how every night cut off one more +thought, how her heart was slowly reduced to ashes. The sadness +deepened shade after shade through languid modulations, and in a +little while the echoes were pouring out a torrent of grief. +Then on a sudden, high notes rang out like the voices of angels +singing together, as if to tell the lost but not forgotten lover +that their spirits now could only meet in heaven. Pathetic hope! + +Then followed the Amen. No more Joy, no more tears in the air, +no sadness, no regrets. The Amen was the return to God. The +final chord was deep, solemn, even terrible; for the last +rumblings of the bass sent a shiver through the audience that +raised the hair on their heads; the nun shook out her veiling of +crepe, and seemed to sink again into the grave from which she had +risen for a moment. Slowly the reverberations died away; it +seemed as if the church, but now so full of light, had returned +to thick darkness. + +The General had been caught up and borne swiftly away by this +strong-winged spirit; he had followed the course of its flight +from beginning to end. He understood to the fullest extent the +imagery of that burning symphony; for him the chords reached deep +and far. For him, as for the sister, the poem meant future, +present, and past. Is not music, and even opera music, a sort of +text, which a susceptible or poetic temper, or a sore and +stricken heart, may expand as memories shall determine? If a +musician must needs have the heart of a poet, must not the +listener too be in a manner a poet and a lover to hear all that +lies in great music? Religion, love, and music--what are they +but a threefold expression of the same fact, of that craving for +expansion which stirs in every noble soul. And these three forms +of poetry ascend to God, in whom all passion on earth finds its +end. Wherefore the holy human trinity finds a place amid the +infinite glories of God; of God, whom we always represent +surrounded with the fires of love and seistrons of gold--music +and light and harmony. Is not He the Cause and the End of all +our strivings? + +The French General guessed rightly that here in the desert, on +this bare rock in the sea, the nun had seized upon music as an +outpouring of the passion that still consumed her. Was this her +manner of offering up her love as a sacrifice to God? Or was it +Love exultant in triumph over God? The questions were hard to +answer. But one thing at least the General could not mistake--in +this heart, dead to the world, the fire of passion burned as +fiercely as in his own. + +Vespers over, he went back to the alcalde with whom he was +staying. In the all-absorbing joy which comes in such full +measure when a satisfaction sought long and painfully is attained +at last, he could see nothing beyond this--he was still loved! +In her heart love had grown in loneliness, even as his love had +grown stronger as he surmounted one barrier after another which +this woman had set between them! The glow of soul came to its +natural end. There followed a longing to see her again, to +contend with God for her, to snatch her away--a rash scheme, +which appealed to a daring nature. He went to bed, when the meal +was over, to avoid questions; to be alone and think at his ease; +and he lay absorbed by deep thought till day broke. + +He rose only to go to mass. He went to the church and knelt +close to the screen, with his forehead touching the curtain; he +would have torn a hole in it if he had been alone, but his host +had come with him out of politeness, and the least imprudence +might compromise the whole future of his love, and ruin the new +hopes. + +The organ sounded, but it was another player, and not the nun of +the last two days whose hands touched the keys. It was all +colourless and cold for the General. Was the woman he loved +prostrated by emotion which wellnigh overcame a strong man's +heart? Had she so fully realised and shared an unchanged, +longed-for love, that now she lay dying on her bed in her cell? +While innumerable thoughts of this kind perplexed his mind, the +voice of the woman he worshipped rang out close beside him; he +knew its clear resonant soprano. It was her voice, with that +faint tremor in it which gave it all the charm that shyness and +diffidence gives to a young girl; her voice, distinct from the +mass of singing as a prima donna's in the chorus of a finale. It +was like a golden or silver thread in dark frieze. + +It was she! There could be no mistake. Parisienne now as ever, +she had not laid coquetry aside when she threw off worldly +adornments for the veil and the Carmelite's coarse serge. She +who had affirmed her love last evening in the praise sent up to +God, seemed now to say to her lover, "Yes, it is I. I am here. +My love is unchanged, but I am beyond the reach of love. You +will hear my voice, my soul shall enfold you, and I shall abide +here under the brown shroud in the choir from which no power on +earth can tear me. You shall never see me more!" + +"It is she indeed!" the General said to himself, raising his +head. He had leant his face on his hands, unable at first to +bear the intolerable emotion that surged like a whirlpool in his +heart, when that well-known voice vibrated under the arcading, +with the sound of the sea for accompaniment. + +Storm was without, and calm within the sanctuary. Still that +rich voice poured out all its caressing notes; it fell like balm +on the lover's burning heart; it blossomed upon the air--the air +that a man would fain breathe more deeply to receive the +effluence of a soul breathed forth with love in the words of the +prayer. The alcalde coming to join his guest found him in tears +during the elevation, while the nun was singing, and brought him +back to his house. Surprised to find so much piety in a French +military man, the worthy magistrate invited the confessor of the +convent to meet his guest. Never had news given the General more +pleasure; he paid the ecclesiastic a good deal of attention at +supper, and confirmed his Spanish hosts in the high opinion they +had formed of his piety by a not wholly disinterested respect. +He enquired with gravity how many sisters there were in the +convent, and asked for particulars of its endowment and revenues, +as if from courtesy he wished to hear the good priest discourse +on the subject most interesting to him. He informed himself as +to the manner of life led by the holy women. Were they allowed +to go out of the convent, or to see visitors? + +"Senor," replied the venerable churchman, "the rule is strict. +A woman cannot enter a monastery of the order of St. Bruno +without a special permission from His Holiness, and the rule here +is equally stringent. No man may enter a convent of Barefoot +Carmelites unless he is a priest specially attached to the +services of the house by the Archbishop. None of the nuns may +leave the convent; though the great Saint, St. Theresa, often +left her cell. The Visitor or the Mothers Superior can alone +give permission, subject to an authorisation from the Archbishop, +for a nun to see a visitor, and then especially in a case of +illness. Now we are one of the principal houses, and +consequently we have a Mother Superior here. Among other foreign +sisters there is one Frenchwoman, Sister Theresa; she it is who +directs the music in the chapel." + +"Oh!" said the General, with feigned surprise. "She must have +rejoiced over the victory of the House of Bourbon." + +"I told them the reason of the mass; they are always a little +bit inquisitive." + +"But Sister Theresa may have interests in France. Perhaps she +would like to send some message or to hear news." + +"I do not think so. She would have come to ask me." + +"As a fellow-countryman, I should be quite curious to see her," +said the General. "If it is possible, if the Lady Superior +consents, if----" + +"Even at the grating and in the Reverend Mother's presence, an +interview would be quite impossible for anybody whatsoever; but, +strict as the Mother is, for a deliverer of our holy religion and +the throne of his Catholic Majesty, the rule might be relaxed for +a moment," said the confessor, blinking. "I will speak about +it." + +"How old is Sister Theresa?" enquired the lover. He dared not +ask any questions of the priest as to the nun's beauty. + +"She does not reckon years now," the good man answered, with a +simplicity that made the General shudder. + +Next day before siesta, the confessor came to inform the French +General that Sister Theresa and the Mother consented to receive +him at the grating in the parlour before vespers. The General +spent the siesta in pacing to and fro along the quay in the +noonday heat. Thither the priest came to find him, and brought +him to the convent by way of the gallery round the cemetery. +Fountains, green trees, and rows of arcading maintained a cool +freshness in keeping with the place. + +At the further end of the long gallery the priest led the way +into a large room divided in two by a grating covered with a +brown curtain. In the first, and in some sort of public half of +the apartment, where the confessor left the newcomer, a wooden +bench ran round the wall, and two or three chairs, also of wood, +were placed near the grating. The ceiling consisted of bare +unornamented joists and cross-beams of ilex wood. As the two +windows were both on the inner side of the grating, and the dark +surface of the wood was a bad reflector, the light in the place +was so dim that you could scarcely see the great black crucifix, +the portrait of Saint Theresa, and a picture of the Madonna which +adorned the grey parlour walls. Tumultuous as the General's +feelings were, they took something of the melancholy of the +place. He grew calm in that homely quiet. A sense of something +vast as the tomb took possession of him beneath the chill +unceiled roof. Here, as in the grave, was there not eternal +silence, deep peace--the sense of the Infinite? And besides this +there was the quiet and the fixed thought of the cloister--a +thought which you felt like a subtle presence in the air, and in +the dim dusk of the room; an all-pervasive thought nowhere +definitely expressed, and looming the larger in the imagination; +for in the cloister the great saying, "Peace in the Lord," +enters the least religious soul as a living force. + +The monk's life is scarcely comprehensible. A man seems +confessed a weakling in a monastery; he was born to act, to live +out a life of work; he is evading a man's destiny in his cell. +But what man's strength, blended with pathetic weakness, is +implied by a woman's choice of the convent life! A man may have +any number of motives for burying himself in a monastery; for him +it is the leap over the precipice. A woman has but one +motive--she is a woman still; she betrothes herself to a Heavenly +Bridegroom. Of the monk you may ask, "Why did you not fight +your battle?" But if a woman immures herself in the cloister, +is there not always a sublime battle fought first? + +At length it seemed to the General that that still room, and the +lonely convent in the sea, were full of thoughts of him. Love +seldom attains to solemnity; yet surely a love still faithful in +the breast of God was something solemn, something more than a man +had a right to look for as things are in this nineteenth century? + +The infinite grandeur of the situation might well produce an +effect upon the General's mind; he had precisely enough elevation +of soul to forget politics, honours, Spain, and society in Paris, +and to rise to the height of this lofty climax. And what in +truth could be more tragic? How much must pass in the souls of +these two lovers, brought together in a place of strangers, on a +ledge of granite in the sea; yet held apart by an intangible, +unsurmountable barrier! Try to imagine the man saying within +himself, "Shall I triumph over God in her heart?" when a faint +rustling sound made him quiver, and the curtain was drawn aside. + +Between him and the light stood a woman. Her face was hidden by +the veil that drooped from the folds upon her head; she was +dressed according to the rule of the order in a gown of the +colour become proverbial. Her bare feet were hidden; if the +General could have seen them, he would have known how appallingly +thin she had grown; and yet in spite of the thick folds of her +coarse gown, a mere covering and no ornament, he could guess how +tears, and prayer, and passion, and loneliness had wasted the +woman before him. + +An ice-cold hand, belonging, no doubt, to the Mother Superior, +held back the curtain. The General gave the enforced witness of +their interview a searching glance, and met the dark, inscrutable +gaze of an aged recluse. The Mother might have been a century +old, but the bright, youthful eyes belied the wrinkles that +furrowed her pale face. + +"Mme la Duchesse," he began, his voice shaken with emotion, +"does your companion understand French?" The veiled figure +bowed her head at the sound of his voice. + +"There is no duchess here," she replied. "It is Sister +Theresa whom you see before you. She whom you call my companion +is my mother in God, my superior here on earth." + +The words were so meekly spoken by the voice that sounded in +other years amid harmonious surroundings of refined luxury, the +voice of a queen of fashion in Paris. Such words from the lips +that once spoke so lightly and flippantly struck the General dumb +with amazement. + +"The Holy Mother only speaks Latin and Spanish," she added. + +"I understand neither. Dear Antoinette, make my excuses to +her." + +The light fell full upon the nun's figure; a thrill of deep +emotion betrayed itself in a faint quiver of her veil as she +heard her name softly spoken by the man who had been so hard in +the past. + +"My brother," she said, drawing her sleeve under her veil, +perhaps to brush tears away, "I am Sister Theresa." + +Then, turning to the Superior, she spoke in Spanish; the General +knew enough of the language to understand what she said perfectly +well; possibly he could have spoken it had he chosen to do so. + +"Dear Mother, the gentleman presents his respects to you, and +begs you to pardon him if he cannot pay them himself, but he +knows neither of the languages which you speak----" + +The aged nun bent her head slowly, with an expression of angelic +sweetness, enhanced at the same time by the consciousness of her +power and dignity. + +"Do you know this gentleman?" she asked, with a keen glance. + +"Yes, Mother." + +"Go back to your cell, my daughter!" said the Mother +imperiously. The General slipped aside behind the curtain lest +the dreadful tumult within him should appear in his face; even in +the shadow it seemed to him that he could still see the +Superior's piercing eyes. He was afraid of her; she held his +little, frail, hardly-won happiness in her hands; and he, who had +never quailed under a triple row of guns, now trembled before +this nun. The Duchess went towards the door, but she turned +back. + +"Mother," she said, with dreadful calmness, "the Frenchman is +one of my brothers." + +"Then stay, my daughter," said the Superior, after a pause. + +The piece of admirable Jesuitry told of such love and regret, +that a man less strongly constituted might have broken down under +the keen delight in the midst of a great and, for him, an +entirely novel peril. Oh! how precious words, looks, and +gestures became when love must baffle lynx eyes and tiger's +claws! Sister Theresa came back. + +"You see, my brother, what I have dared to do only to speak to +you for a moment of your salvation and of the prayers that my +soul puts up for your soul daily. I am committing mortal sin. I +have told a lie. How many days of penance must expiate that lie! +But I shall endure it for your sake. My brother, you do not know +what happiness it is to love in heaven; to feel that you can +confess love purified by religion, love transported into the +highest heights of all, so that we are permitted to lose sight of +all but the soul. If the doctrine and the spirit of the Saint to +whom we owe this refuge had not raised me above earth's anguish, +and caught me up and set me, far indeed beneath the Sphere +wherein she dwells, yet truly above this world, I should not have +seen you again. But now I can see you, and hear your voice, and +remain calm----" + +The General broke in, "But, Antoinette, let me see you, you whom +I love passionately, desperately, as you could have wished me to +love you." + +"Do not call me Antoinette, I implore you. Memories of the past +hurt me. You must see no one here but Sister Theresa, a creature +who trusts in the Divine mercy." She paused for a little, and +then added, "You must control yourself, my brother. Our Mother +would separate us without pity if there is any worldly passion in +your face, or if you allow the tears to fall from your eyes." + +The General bowed his head to regain self-control; when he looked +up again he saw her face beyond the grating--the thin, white, but +still impassioned face of the nun. All the magic charm of youth +that once bloomed there, all the fair contrast of velvet +whiteness and the colour of the Bengal rose, had given place to a +burning glow, as of a porcelain jar with a faint light shining +through it. The wonderful hair in which she took such pride had +been shaven; there was a bandage round her forehead and about her +face. An ascetic life had left dark traces about the eyes, which +still sometimes shot out fevered glances; their ordinary calm +expression was but a veil. In a few words, she was but the ghost +of her former self. + +"Ah! you that have come to be my life, you must come out of this +tomb! You were mine; you had no right to give yourself, even to +God. Did you not promise me to give up all at the least command +from me? You may perhaps think me worthy of that promise now +when you hear what I have done for you. I have sought you all +through the world. You have been in my thoughts at every moment +for five years; my life has been given to you. My friends, very +powerful friends, as you know, have helped with all their might +to search every convent in France, Italy, Spain, Sicily, and +America. Love burned more brightly for every vain search. Again +and again I made long journeys with a false hope; I have wasted +my life and the heaviest throbbings of my heart in vain under +many a dark convent wall. I am not speaking of a faithfulness +that knows no bounds, for what is it?--nothing compared with the +infinite longings of my love. If your remorse long ago was +sincere, you ought not to hesitate to follow me today." + +"You forget that I am not free." + +"The Duke is dead," he answered quickly. + +Sister Theresa flushed red. + +"May heaven be open to him!" she cried with a quick rush of +feeling. "He was generous to me.--But I did not mean such ties; +it was one of my sins that I was ready to break them all without +scruple--for you." + +"Are you speaking of your vows?" the General asked, frowning. +"I did not think that anything weighed heavier with your heart +than love. But do not think twice of it, Antoinette; the Holy +Father himself shall absolve you of your oath. I will surely go +to Rome, I will entreat all the powers of earth; if God could +come down from heaven, I would----" + +"Do not blaspheme." + +"So do not fear the anger of God. Ah! I would far rather hear +that you would leave your prison for me; that this very night you +would let yourself down into a boat at the foot of the cliffs. +And we would go away to be happy somewhere at the world's end, I +know not where. And with me at your side, you should come back +to life and health under the wings of love." + +"You must not talk like this," said Sister Theresa; "you do +not know what you are to me now. I love you far better than I +ever loved you before. Every day I pray for you; I see you with +other eyes. Armand, if you but knew the happiness of giving +yourself up, without shame, to a pure friendship which God +watches over! You do not know what joy it is to me to pray for +heaven's blessing on you. I never pray for myself: God will do +with me according to His will; but, at the price of my soul, I +wish I could be sure that you are happy here on earth, and that +you will be happy hereafter throughout all ages. My eternal life +is all that trouble has left me to offer up to you. I am old now +with weeping; I am neither young nor fair; and in any case, you +could not respect the nun who became a wife; no love, not even +motherhood, could give me absolution. . . . What can you say to +outweigh the uncounted thoughts that have gathered in my heart +during the past five years, thoughts that have changed, and worn, +and blighted it? I ought to have given a heart less sorrowful to +God." + +"What can I say? Dear Antoinette, I will say this, that I love +you; that affection, love, a great love, the joy of living in +another heart that is ours, utterly and wholly ours, is so rare a +thing and so hard to find, that I doubted you, and put you to +sharp proof; but now, today, I love you, Antoinette, with all my +soul's strength. . . . If you will follow me into solitude, I +will hear no voice but yours, I will see no other face." + +"Hush, Armand! You are shortening the little time that we may +be together here on earth." + +"Antoinette, will you come with me?" + +"I am never away from you. My life is in your heart, not +through the selfish ties of earthly happiness, or vanity, or +enjoyment; pale and withered as I am, I live here for you, in the +breast of God. As God is just, you shall be happy----" + +"Words, words all of it! Pale and withered? How if I want you? +How if I cannot be happy without you? Do you still think of +nothing but duty with your lover before you? Is he never to come +first and above all things else in your heart? In time past you +put social success, yourself, heaven knows what, before him; now +it is God, it is the welfare of my soul! In Sister Theresa I +find the Duchess over again, ignorant of the happiness of love, +insensible as ever, beneath the semblance of sensibility. You do +not love me; you have never loved me----" + +"Oh, my brother----!" + +"You do not wish to leave this tomb. You love my soul, do you +say? Very well, through you it will be lost forever. I shall +make away with myself----" + +"Mother!" Sister Theresa called aloud in Spanish, "I have lied +to you; this man is my lover!" + +The curtain fell at once. The General, in his stupor, scarcely +heard the doors within as they clanged. + +"Ah! she loves me still!" he cried, understanding all the +sublimity of that cry of hers. "She loves me still. She must +be carried off. . . ." + + +The General left the island, returned to headquarters, pleaded +ill-health, asked for leave of absence, and forthwith took his +departure for France. + +And now for the incidents which brought the two personages in +this Scene into their present relation to each other. + + +The thing known in France as the Faubourg Saint-Germain is +neither a Quarter, nor a sect, nor an institution, nor anything +else that admits of a precise definition. There are great houses +in the Place Royale, the Faubourg Saint-Honore, and the Chaussee +d'Antin, in any one of which you may breathe the same atmosphere +of Faubourg Saint-Germain. So, to begin with, the whole Faubourg +is not within the Faubourg. There are men and women born far +enough away from its influences who respond to them and take +their place in the circle; and again there are others, born +within its limits, who may yet be driven forth forever. For the +last forty years the manners, and customs, and speech, in a word, +the tradition of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, has been to Paris +what the Court used to be in other times; it is what the Hotel +Saint-Paul was to the fourteenth century; the Louvre to the +fifteenth; the Palais, the Hotel Rambouillet, and the Place +Royale to the sixteenth; and lastly, as Versailles was to the +seventeenth and the eighteenth. + +Just as the ordinary workaday Paris will always centre about some +point; so, through all periods of history, the Paris of the +nobles and the upper classes converges towards some particular +spot. It is a periodically recurrent phenomenon which presents +ample matter for reflection to those who are fain to observe or +describe the various social zones; and possibly an enquiry into +the causes that bring about this centralisation may do more than +merely justify the probability of this episode; it may be of +service to serious interests which some day will be more deeply +rooted in the commonwealth, unless, indeed, experience is as +meaningless for political parties as it is for youth. + +In every age the great nobles, and the rich who always ape the +great nobles, build their houses as far as possible from crowded +streets. When the Duc d'Uzes built his splendid hotel in the Rue +Montmartre in the reign of Louis XIV, and set the fountain at his +gates--for which beneficent action, to say nothing of his other +virtues, he was held in such veneration that the whole quarter +turned out in a body to follow his funeral--when the Duke, I say, +chose this site for his house, he did so because that part of +Paris was almost deserted in those days. But when the +fortifications were pulled down, and the market gardens beyond +the line of the boulevards began to fill with houses, then the +d'Uzes family left their fine mansion, and in our time it was +occupied by a banker. Later still, the noblesse began to find +themselves out of their element among shopkeepers, left the Place +Royale and the centre of Paris for good, and crossed the river to +breathe freely in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where palaces were +reared already about the great hotel built by Louis XIV for the +Duc de Maine--the Benjamin among his legitimated offspring. And +indeed, for people accustomed to a stately life, can there be +more unseemly surroundings than the bustle, the mud, the street +cries, the bad smells, and narrow thoroughfares of a populous +quarter? The very habits of life in a mercantile or +manufacturing district are completely at variance with the lives +of nobles. The shopkeeper and artisan are just going to bed when +the great world is thinking of dinner; and the noisy stir of life +begins among the former when the latter have gone to rest. Their +day's calculations never coincide; the one class represents the +expenditure, the other the receipts. Consequently their manners +and customs are diametrically opposed. + +Nothing contemptuous is intended by this statement. An +aristocracy is in a manner the intellect of the social system, as +the middle classes and the proletariat may be said to be its +organising and working power. It naturally follows that these +forces are differently situated; and of their antagonism there is +bred a seeming antipathy produced by the performance of different +functions, all of them, however, existing for one common end. + +Such social dissonances are so inevitably the outcome of any +charter of the constitution, that however much a Liberal may be +disposed to complain of them, as of treason against those sublime +ideas with which the ambitious plebeian is apt to cover his +designs, he would none the less think it a preposterous notion +that M. le Prince de Montmorency, for instance, should continue +to live in the Rue Saint-Martin at the corner of the street which +bears that nobleman's name; or that M. le Duc de Fitz-James, +descendant of the royal house of Scotland, should have his hotel +at the angle of the Rue Marie Stuart and the Rue Montorgueil. +Sint ut sunt, aut non sint, the grand words of the Jesuit, might +be taken as a motto by the great in all countries. These social +differences are patent in all ages; the fact is always accepted +by the people; its "reasons of state" are self-evident; it is +at once cause and effect, a principle and a law. The common +sense of the masses never deserts them until demagogues stir them +up to gain ends of their own; that common sense is based on the +verities of social order; and the social order is the same +everywhere, in Moscow as in London, in Geneva as in Calcutta. +Given a certain number of families of unequal fortune in any +given space, you will see an aristocracy forming under your eyes; +there will be the patricians, the upper classes, and yet other +ranks below them. Equality may be a RIGHT, but no power on earth +can convert it into FACT. It would be a good thing for France if +this idea could be popularised. The benefits of political +harmony are obvious to the least intelligent classes. Harmony +is, as it were, the poetry of order, and order is a matter of +vital importance to the working population. And what is order, +reduced to its simplest expression, but the agreement of things +among themselves--unity, in short? Architecture, music, and +poetry, everything in France, and in France more than in any +other country, is based upon this principle; it is written upon +the very foundations of her clear accurate language, and a +language must always be the most infallible index of national +character. In the same way you may note that the French popular +airs are those most calculated to strike the imagination, the +best-modulated melodies are taken over by the people; clearness +of thought, the intellectual simplicity of an idea attracts them; +they like the incisive sayings that hold the greatest number of +ideas. + +France is the one country in the world where a little phrase may +bring about a great revolution. Whenever the masses have risen, +it has been to bring men, affairs, and principles into agreement. + +No nation has a clearer conception of that idea of unity which +should permeate the life of an aristocracy; possibly no other +nation has so intelligent a comprehension of a political +necessity; history will never find her behind the time. France +has been led astray many a time, but she is deluded, woman-like, +by generous ideas, by a glow of enthusiasm which at first +outstrips sober reason. + +So, to begin with, the most striking characteristic of the +Faubourg is the splendour of its great mansions, its great +gardens, and a surrounding quiet in keeping with princely +revenues drawn from great estates. + +And what is this distance set between a class and a whole +metropolis but visible and outward expression of the widely +different attitude of mind which must inevitably keep them apart? + +The position of the head is well defined in every organism. If +by any chance a nation allows its head to fall at its feet, it is +pretty sure sooner or later to discover that this is a suicidal +measure; and since nations have no desire to perish, they set to +work at once to grow a new head. If they lack the strength for +this, they perish as Rome perished, and Venice, and so many other +states. + +This distinction between the upper and lower spheres of social +activity, emphasised by differences in their manner of living, +necessarily implies that in the highest aristocracy there is real +worth and some distinguishing merit. In any state, no matter +what form of "government" is affected, so soon as the patrician +class fails to maintain that complete superiority which is the +condition of its existence, it ceases to be a force, and is +pulled down at once by the populace. The people always wish to +see money, power, and initiative in their leaders, hands, hearts, +and heads; they must be the spokesmen, they must represent the +intelligence and the glory of the nation. Nations, like women, +love strength in those who rule them; they cannot give love +without respect; they refuse utterly to obey those of whom they +do not stand in awe. An aristocracy fallen into contempt is a +roi faineant, a husband in petticoats; first it ceases to be +itself, and then it ceases to be. + +And in this way the isolation of the great, the sharply marked +distinction in their manner of life, or in a word, the general +custom of the patrician caste is at once the sign of a real +power, and their destruction so soon as that power is lost. The +Faubourg Saint-Germain failed to recognise the conditions of its +being, while it would still have been easy to perpetuate its +existence, and therefore was brought low for a time. The +Faubourg should have looked the facts fairly in the face, as the +English aristocracy did before them; they should have seen that +every institution has its climacteric periods, when words lose +their old meanings, and ideas reappear in a new guise, and the +whole conditions of politics wear a changed aspect, while the +underlying realities undergo no essential alteration. + +These ideas demand further development which form an essential +part of this episode; they are given here both as a succinct +statement of the causes, and an explanation of the things which +happen in the course of the story. + +The stateliness of the castles and palaces where nobles dwell; +the luxury of the details; the constantly maintained +sumptuousness of the furniture; the "atmosphere" in which the +fortunate owner of landed estates (a rich man before he was born) +lives and moves easily and without friction; the habit of mind +which never descends to calculate the petty workaday gains of +existence; the leisure; the higher education attainable at a much +earlier age; and lastly, the aristocratic tradition that makes of +him a social force, for which his opponents, by dint of study and +a strong will and tenacity of vocation, are scarcely a match-all +these things should contribute to form a lofty spirit in a man, +possessed of such privileges from his youth up; they should stamp +his character with that high self-respect, of which the least +consequence is a nobleness of heart in harmony with the noble +name that he bears. And in some few families all this is +realised. There are noble characters here and there in the +Faubourg, but they are marked exceptions to a general rule of +egoism which has been the ruin of this world within a world. The +privileges above enumerated are the birthright of the French +noblesse, as of every patrician efflorescence ever formed on the +surface of a nation; and will continue to be theirs so long as +their existence is based upon real estate, or money; domaine-sol +and domaine-argent alike, the only solid bases of an organised +society; but such privileges are held upon the understanding that +the patricians must continue to justify their existence. There +is a sort of moral fief held on a tenure of service rendered to +the sovereign, and here in France the people are undoubtedly the +sovereigns nowadays. The times are changed, and so are the +weapons. The knight-banneret of old wore a coat of chain armour +and a hauberk; he could handle a lance well and display his +pennon, and no more was required of him; today he is bound to +give proof of his intelligence. A stout heart was enough in the +days of old; in our days he is required to have a capacious +brain-pan. Skill and knowledge and capital--these three points +mark out a social triangle on which the scutcheon of power is +blazoned; our modern aristocracy must take its stand on these. + +A fine theorem is as good as a great name. The Rothschilds, the +Fuggers of the nineteenth century, are princes de facto. A great +artist is in reality an oligarch; he represents a whole century, +and almost always he is a law to others. And the art of words, +the high pressure machinery of the writer, the poet's genius, the +merchant's steady endurance, the strong will of the statesman who +concentrates a thousand dazzling qualities in himself, the +general's sword--all these victories, in short, which a single +individual will win, that he may tower above the rest of the +world, the patrician class is now bound to win and keep +exclusively. They must head the new forces as they once headed +the material forces; how should they keep the position unless +they are worthy of it? How, unless they are the soul and brain +of a nation, shall they set its hands moving? How lead a people +without the power of command? And what is the marshal's baton +without the innate power of the captain in the man who wields it? + +The Faubourg Saint-Germain took to playing with batons, and +fancied that all the power was in its hands. It inverted the +terms of the proposition which called it into existence. And +instead of flinging away the insignia which offended the people, +and quietly grasping the power, it allowed the bourgeoisie to +seize the authority, clung with fatal obstinacy to its shadow, +and over and over again forgot the laws which a minority must +observe if it would live. When an aristocracy is scarce a +thousandth part of the body social, it is bound today, as of old, +to multiply its points of action, so as to counterbalance the +weight of the masses in a great crisis. And in our days those +means of action must be living forces, and not historical +memories. + +In France, unluckily, the noblesse were still so puffed up with +the notion of their vanished power, that it was difficult to +contend against a kind of innate presumption in themselves. +Perhaps this is a national defect. The Frenchman is less given +than anyone else to undervalue himself; it comes natural to him +to go from his degree to the one above it; and while it is a rare +thing for him to pity the unfortunates over whose heads he rises, +he always groans in spirit to see so many fortunate people above +him. He is very far from heartless, but too often he prefers to +listen to his intellect. The national instinct which brings the +Frenchman to the front, the vanity that wastes his substance, is +as much a dominant passion as thrift in the Dutch. For three +centuries it swayed the noblesse, who, in this respect, were +certainly pre-eminently French. The scion of the Faubourg +Saint-Germain, beholding his material superiority, was fully +persuaded of his intellectual superiority. And everything +contributed to confirm him in his belief; for ever since the +Faubourg Saint-Germain existed at all--which is to say, ever +since Versailles ceased to be the royal residence--the Faubourg, +with some few gaps in continuity, was always backed up by the +central power, which in France seldom fails to support that side. + +Thence its downfall in 1830. + +At that time the party of the Faubourg Saint-Germain was rather +like an army without a base of operation. It had utterly failed +to take advantage of the peace to plant itself in the heart of +the nation. It sinned for want of learning its lesson, and +through an utter incapability of regarding its interests as a +whole. A future certainty was sacrificed to a doubtful present +gain. This blunder in policy may perhaps be attributed to the +following cause. + +The class-isolation so strenuously kept up by the noblesse +brought about fatal results during the last forty years; even +caste-patriotism was extinguished by it, and rivalry fostered +among themselves. When the French noblesse of other times were +rich and powerful, the nobles (gentilhommes) could choose their +chiefs and obey them in the hour of danger. As their power +diminished, they grew less amenable to discipline; and as in the +last days of the Byzantine Empire, everyone wished to be emperor. + +They mistook their uniform weakness for uniform strength. + +Each family ruined by the Revolution and the abolition of the law +of primogeniture thought only of itself, and not at all of the +great family of the noblesse. It seemed to them that as each +individual grew rich, the party as a whole would gain in +strength. And herein lay their mistake. Money, likewise, is +only the outward and visible sign of power. All these families +were made up of persons who preserved a high tradition of +courtesy, of true graciousness of life, of refined speech, with a +family pride, and a squeamish sense of noblesse oblige which +suited well with the kind of life they led; a life wholly filled +with occupations which become contemptible so soon as they cease +to be accessories and take the chief place in existence. There +was a certain intrinsic merit in all these people, but the merit +was on the surface, and none of them were worth their face-value. + +Not a single one among those families had courage to ask itself +the question, "Are we strong enough for the responsibility of +power?" They were cast on the top, like the lawyers of 1830; +and instead of taking the patron's place, like a great man, the +Faubourg Saint-Germain showed itself greedy as an upstart. The +most intelligent nation in the world perceived clearly that the +restored nobles were organising everything for their own +particular benefit. From that day the noblesse was doomed. The +Faubourg Saint-Germain tried to be an aristocracy when it could +only be an oligarchy--two very different systems, as any man may +see for himself if he gives an intelligent perusal to the list of +the patronymics of the House of Peers. + +The King's Government certainly meant well; but the maxim that +the people must be made to WILL everything, even their own +welfare, was pretty constantly forgotten, nor did they bear in +mind that La France is a woman and capricious, and must be happy +or chastised at her own good pleasure. If there had been many +dukes like the Duc de Laval, whose modesty made him worthy of the +name he bore, the elder branch would have been as securely seated +on the throne as the House of Hanover at this day. + +In 1814 the noblesse of France were called upon to assert their +superiority over the most aristocratic bourgeoisie in the most +feminine of all countries, to take the lead in the most highly +educated epoch the world had yet seen. And this was even more +notably the case in 1820. The Faubourg Saint-Germain might very +easily have led and amused the middle classes in days when +people's heads were turned with distinctions, and art and science +were all the rage. But the narrow-minded leaders of a time of +great intellectual progress all of them detested art and science. + +They had not even the wit to present religion in attractive +colours, though they needed its support. While Lamartine, +Lamennais, Montalembert, and other writers were putting new life +and elevation into men's ideas of religion, and gilding it with +poetry, these bunglers in the Government chose to make the +harshness of their creed felt all over the country. Never was +nation in a more tractable humour; La France, like a tired woman, +was ready to agree to anything; never was mismanagement so +clumsy; and La France, like a woman, would have forgiven wrongs +more easily than bungling. + +If the noblesse meant to reinstate themselves, the better to +found a strong oligarchy, they should have honestly and +diligently searched their Houses for men of the stamp that +Napoleon used; they should have turned themselves inside out to +see if peradventure there was a Constitutionalist Richelieu +lurking in the entrails of the Faubourg; and if that genius was +not forthcoming from among them, they should have set out to find +him, even in the fireless garret where he might happen to be +perishing of cold; they should have assimilated him, as the +English House of Lords continually assimilates aristocrats made +by chance; and finally ordered him to be ruthless, to lop away +the old wood, and cut the tree down to the living shoots. But, +in the first place, the great system of English Toryism was far +too large for narrow minds; the importation required time, and in +France a tardy success is no better than a fiasco. So far, +moreover, from adopting a policy of redemption, and looking for +new forces where God puts them, these petty great folk took a +dislike to any capacity that did not issue from their midst; and, +lastly, instead of growing young again, the Faubourg +Saint-Germain grew positively older. + +Etiquette, not an institution of primary necessity, might have +been maintained if it had appeared only on state occasions, but +as it was, there was a daily wrangle over precedence; it ceased +to be a matter of art or court ceremonial, it became a question +of power. And if from the outset the Crown lacked an adviser +equal to so great a crisis, the aristocracy was still more +lacking in a sense of its wider interests, an instinct which +might have supplied the deficiency. They stood nice about M. de +Talleyrand's marriage, when M. de Talleyrand was the one man +among them with the steel-encompassed brains that can forge a new +political system and begin a new career of glory for a nation. +The Faubourg scoffed at a minister if he was not gently born, and +produced no one of gentle birth that was fit to be a minister. +There were plenty of nobles fitted to serve their country by +raising the dignity of justices of the peace, by improving the +land, by opening out roads and canals, and taking an active and +leading part as country gentlemen; but these had sold their +estates to gamble on the Stock Exchange. Again the Faubourg +might have absorbed the energetic men among the bourgeoisie, and +opened their ranks to the ambition which was undermining +authority; they preferred instead to fight, and to fight unarmed, +for of all that they once possessed there was nothing left but +tradition. For their misfortune there was just precisely enough +of their former wealth left them as a class to keep up their +bitter pride. They were content with their past. Not one of +them seriously thought of bidding the son of the house take up +arms from the pile of weapons which the nineteenth century flings +down in the market-place. Young men, shut out from office, were +dancing at Madame's balls, while they should have been doing the +work done under the Republic and the Empire by young, +conscientious, harmlessly employed energies. It was their place +to carry out at Paris the programme which their seniors should +have been following in the country. The heads of houses might +have won back recognition of their titles by unremitting +attention to local interests, by falling in with the spirit of +the age, by recasting their order to suit the taste of the times. + +But, pent up together in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, where the +spirit of the ancient court and traditions of bygone feuds +between the nobles and the Crown still lingered on, the +aristocracy was not whole-hearted in its allegiance to the +Tuileries, and so much the more easily defeated because it was +concentrated in the Chamber of Peers, and badly organised even +there. If the noblesse had woven themselves into a network over +the country, they could have held their own; but cooped up in +their Faubourg, with their backs against the Chateau, or spread +at full length over the Budget, a single blow cut the thread of a +fast-expiring life, and a petty, smug-faced lawyer came forward +with the axe. In spite of M. Royer-Collard's admirable +discourse, the hereditary peerage and law of entail fell before +the lampoons of a man who made it a boast that he had adroitly +argued some few heads out of the executioner's clutches, and now +forsooth must clumsily proceed to the slaying of old +institutions. + +There are examples and lessons for the future in all this. For +if there were not still a future before the French aristocracy, +there would be no need to do more than find a suitable +sarcophagus; it were something pitilessly cruel to burn the dead +body of it with fire of Tophet. + +But though the surgeon's scalpel is ruthless, it sometimes gives +back life to a dying man; and the Faubourg Saint-Germain may wax +more powerful under persecution than in its day of triumph, if it +but chooses to organise itself under a leader. + +And now it is easy to give a summary of this semi-political +survey. The wish to re-establish a large fortune was uppermost +in everyone's mind; a lack of broad views, and a mass of small +defects, a real need of religion as a political factor, combined +with a thirst for pleasure which damaged the cause of religion +and necessitated a good deal of hypocrisy; a certain attitude of +protest on the part of loftier and clearer-sighted men who set +their faces against Court jealousies; and the disaffection of the +provincial families, who often came of purer descent than the +nobles of the Court which alienated them from itself--all these +things combined to bring about a most discordant state of things +in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. It was neither compact in its +organisation, nor consequent in its action; neither completely +moral, nor frankly dissolute; it did not corrupt, nor was it +corrupted; it would neither wholly abandon the disputed points +which damaged its cause, nor yet adopt the policy that might have +saved it. In short, however effete individuals might be, the +party as a whole was none the less armed with all the great +principles which lie at the roots of national existence. What +was there in the Faubourg that it should perish in its strength? + +It was very hard to please in the choice of candidates; the +Faubourg had good taste, it was scornfully fastidious, yet there +was nothing very glorious nor chivalrous truly about its fall. + +In the Emigration of 1789 there were some traces of a loftier +feeling; but in the Emigration of 1830 from Paris into the +country there was nothing discernible but self-interest. A few +famous men of letters, a few oratorical triumphs in the Chambers, +M. de Talleyrand's attitude in the Congress, the taking of +Algiers, and not a few names that found their way from the +battlefield into the pages of history--all these things were so +many examples set before the French noblesse to show that it was +still open to them to take their part in the national existence, +and to win recognition of their claims, if, indeed, they could +condescend thus far. In every living organism the work of +bringing the whole into harmony within itself is always going on. + +If a man is indolent, the indolence shows itself in everything +that he does; and, in the same manner, the general spirit of a +class is pretty plainly manifested in the face it turns on the +world, and the soul informs the body. + +The women of the Restoration displayed neither the proud +disregard of public opinion shown by the court ladies of olden +time in their wantonness, nor yet the simple grandeur of the +tardy virtues by which they expiated their sins and shed so +bright a glory about their names. There was nothing either very +frivolous or very serious about the woman of the Restoration. +She was hypocritical as a rule in her passion, and compounded, so +to speak, with its pleasures. Some few families led the domestic +life of the Duchesse d'Orleans, whose connubial couch was +exhibited so absurdly to visitors at the Palais Royal. Two or +three kept up the traditions of the Regency, filling cleverer +women with something like disgust. The great lady of the new +school exercised no influence at all over the manners of the +time; and yet she might have done much. She might, at worst, +have presented as dignified a spectacle as English-women of the +same rank. But she hesitated feebly among old precedents, became +a bigot by force of circumstances, and allowed nothing of herself +to appear, not even her better qualities. + +Not one among the Frenchwomen of that day had the ability to +create a salon whither leaders of fashion might come to take +lessons in taste and elegance. Their voices, which once laid +down the law to literature, that living expression of a time, now +counted absolutely for nought. Now when a literature lacks a +general system, it fails to shape a body for itself, and dies out +with its period. + +When in a nation at any time there is a people apart thus +constituted, the historian is pretty certain to find some +representative figure, some central personage who embodies the +qualities and the defects of the whole party to which he belongs; +there is Coligny, for instance, among the Huguenots, the +Coadjuteur in the time of the Fronde, the Marechal de Richelieu +under Louis XV, Danton during the Terror. It is in the nature of +things that the man should be identified with the company in +which history finds him. How is it possible to lead a party +without conforming to its ideas? or to shine in any epoch unless +a man represents the ideas of his time? The wise and prudent +head of a party is continually obliged to bow to the prejudices +and follies of its rear; and this is the cause of actions for +which he is afterwards criticised by this or that historian +sitting at a safer distance from terrific popular explosions, +coolly judging the passion and ferment without which the great +struggles of the world could not be carried on at all. And if +this is true of the Historical Comedy of the Centuries, it is +equally true in a more restricted sphere in the detached scenes +of the national drama known as the Manners of the Age. + + +At the beginning of that ephemeral life led by the Faubourg +Saint-Germain under the Restoration, to which, if there is any +truth in the above reflections, they failed to give stability, +the most perfect type of the aristocratic caste in its weakness +and strength, its greatness and littleness, might have been found +for a brief space in a young married woman who belonged to it. +This was a woman artificially educated, but in reality ignorant; +a woman whose instincts and feelings were lofty while the thought +which should have controlled them was wanting. She squandered +the wealth of her nature in obedience to social conventions; she +was ready to brave society, yet she hesitated till her scruples +degenerated into artifice. With more wilfulness than real force +of character, impressionable rather than enthusiastic, gifted +with more brain than heart; she was supremely a woman, supremely +a coquette, and above all things a Parisienne, loving a brilliant +life and gaiety, reflecting never, or too late; imprudent to the +verge of poetry, and humble in the depths of her heart, in spite +of her charming insolence. Like some straight-growing reed, she +made a show of independence; yet, like the reed, she was ready to +bend to a strong hand. She talked much of religion, and had it +not at heart, though she was prepared to find in it a solution of +her life. How explain a creature so complex? Capable of +heroism, yet sinking unconsciously from heroic heights to utter a +spiteful word; young and sweet-natured, not so much old at heart +as aged by the maxims of those about her; versed in a selfish +philosophy in which she was all unpractised, she had all the +vices of a courtier, all the nobleness of developing womanhood. +She trusted nothing and no one, yet there were times when she +quitted her sceptical attitude for a submissive credulity. + +How should any portrait be anything but incomplete of her, in +whom the play of swiftly-changing colour made discord only to +produce a poetic confusion? For in her there shone a divine +brightness, a radiance of youth that blended all her bewildering +characteristics in a certain completeness and unity informed by +her charm. Nothing was feigned. The passion or semi-passion, +the ineffectual high aspirations, the actual pettiness, the +coolness of sentiment and warmth of impulse, were all spontaneous +and unaffected, and as much the outcome of her own position as of +the position of the aristocracy to which she belonged. She was +wholly self-contained; she put herself proudly above the world +and beneath the shelter of her name. There was something of the +egoism of Medea in her life, as in the life of the aristocracy +that lay a-dying, and would not so much as raise itself or +stretch out a hand to any political physician; so well aware of +its feebleness, or so conscious that it was already dust, that it +refused to touch or be touched. + +The Duchesse de Langeais (for that was her name) had been married +for about four years when the Restoration was finally +consummated, which is to say, in 1816. By that time the +revolution of the Hundred Days had let in the light on the mind +of Louis XVIII. In spite of his surroundings, he comprehended +the situation and the age in which he was living; and it was only +later, when this Louis XI, without the axe, lay stricken down by +disease, that those about him got the upper hand. The Duchesse +de Langeais, a Navarreins by birth, came of a ducal house which +had made a point of never marrying below its rank since the reign +of Louis XIV. Every daughter of the house must sooner or later +take a tabouret at Court. So, Antoinette de Navarreins, at the +age of eighteen, came out of the profound solitude in which her +girlhood had been spent to marry the Duc de Langeais's eldest +son. The two families at that time were living quite out of the +world; but after the invasion of France, the return of the +Bourbons seemed to every Royalist mind the only possible way of +putting an end to the miseries of the war. + +The Ducs de Navarreins and de Langeais had been faithful +throughout to the exiled Princes, nobly resisting all the +temptations of glory under the Empire. Under the circumstances +they naturally followed out the old family policy; and Mlle +Antoinette, a beautiful and portionless girl, was married to M. +le Marquis de Langeais only a few months before the death of the +Duke his father. + +After the return of the Bourbons, the families resumed their +rank, offices, and dignity at Court; once more they entered +public life, from which hitherto they held aloof, and took their +place high on the sunlit summits of the new political world. In +that time of general baseness and sham political conversions, the +public conscience was glad to recognise the unstained loyalty of +the two houses, and a consistency in political and private life +for which all parties involuntarily respected them. But, +unfortunately, as so often happens in a time of transition, the +most disinterested persons, the men whose loftiness of view and +wise principles would have gained the confidence of the French +nation and led them to believe in the generosity of a novel and +spirited policy--these men, to repeat, were taken out of affairs, +and public business was allowed to fall into the hands of others, +who found it to their interest to push principles to their +extreme consequences by way of proving their devotion. + +The families of Langeais and Navarreins remained about the Court, +condemned to perform the duties required by Court ceremonial amid +the reproaches and sneers of the Liberal party. They were +accused of gorging themselves with riches and honours, and all +the while their family estates were no larger than before, and +liberal allowances from the civil list were wholly expended in +keeping up the state necessary for any European government, even +if it be a Republic. + +In 1818, M. le Duc de Langeais commanded a division of the army, +and the Duchess held a post about one of the Princesses, in +virtue of which she was free to live in Paris and apart from her +husband without scandal. The Duke, moreover, besides his +military duties, had a place at Court, to which he came during +his term of waiting, leaving his major-general in command. The +Duke and Duchess were leading lives entirely apart, the world +none the wiser. Their marriage of convention shared the fate of +nearly all family arrangements of the kind. Two more +antipathetic dispositions could not well have been found; they +were brought together; they jarred upon each other; there was +soreness on either side; then they were divided once for all. +Then they went their separate ways, with a due regard for +appearances. The Duc de Langeais, by nature as methodical as the +Chevalier de Folard himself, gave himself up methodically to his +own tastes and amusements, and left his wife at liberty to do as +she pleased so soon as he felt sure of her character. He +recognised in her a spirit pre-eminently proud, a cold heart, a +profound submissiveness to the usages of the world, and a +youthful loyalty. Under the eyes of great relations, with the +light of a prudish and bigoted Court turned full upon the +Duchess, his honour was safe. + +So the Duke calmly did as the grands seigneurs of the eighteenth +century did before him, and left a young wife of two-and-twenty +to her own devices. He had deeply offended that wife, and in her +nature there was one appalling characteristic--she would never +forgive an offence when woman's vanity and self-love, with all +that was best in her nature perhaps, had been slighted, wounded +in secret. Insult and injury in the face of the world a woman +loves to forget; there is a way open to her of showing herself +great; she is a woman in her forgiveness; but a secret offence +women never pardon; for secret baseness, as for hidden virtues +and hidden love, they have no kindness. + +This was Mme la Duchesse de Langeais's real position, unknown to +the world. She herself did not reflect upon it. It was the time +of the rejoicings over the Duc de Berri's marriage. The Court +and the Faubourg roused itself from its listlessness and reserve. + +This was the real beginning of that unheard-of splendour which +the Government of the Restoration carried too far. At that time +the Duchess, whether for reasons of her own, or from vanity, +never appeared in public without a following of women equally +distinguished by name and fortune. As queen of fashion she had +her dames d'atours, her ladies, who modelled their manner and +their wit on hers. They had been cleverly chosen. None of her +satellites belonged to the inmost Court circle, nor to the +highest level of the Faubourg Saint-Germain; but they had set +their minds upon admission to those inner sanctuaries. Being as +yet simple dominations, they wished to rise to the neighbourhood +of the throne, and mingle with the seraphic powers in the high +sphere known as le petit chateau. Thus surrounded, the Duchess's +position was stronger and more commanding and secure. Her +"ladies" defended her character and helped her to play her +detestable part of a woman of fashion. She could laugh at men at +her ease, play with fire, receive the homage on which the +feminine nature is nourished, and remain mistress of herself. + +At Paris, in the highest society of all, a woman is a woman +still; she lives on incense, adulation, and honours. No beauty, +however undoubted, no face, however fair, is anything without +admiration. Flattery and a lover are proofs of power. And what +is power without recognition? Nothing. If the prettiest of +women were left alone in a corner of a drawing-room, she would +droop. Put her in the very centre and summit of social grandeur, +she will at once aspire to reign over all hearts--often because +it is out of her power to be the happy queen of one. Dress and +manner and coquetry are all meant to please one of the poorest +creatures extant--the brainless coxcomb, whose handsome face is +his sole merit; it was for such as these that women threw +themselves away. The gilded wooden idols of the Restoration, for +they were neither more nor less, had neither the antecedents of +the petits maitres of the time of the Fronde, nor the rough +sterling worth of Napoleon's heroes, not the wit and fine manners +of their grandsires; but something of all three they meant to be +without any trouble to themselves. Brave they were, like all +young Frenchmen; ability they possessed, no doubt, if they had +had a chance of proving it, but their places were filled up by +the old worn-out men, who kept them in leading strings. It was a +day of small things, a cold prosaic era. Perhaps it takes a long +time for a Restoration to become a Monarchy. + +For the past eighteen months the Duchesse de Langeais had been +leading this empty life, filled with balls and subsequent visits, +objectless triumphs, and the transient loves that spring up and +die in an evening's space. All eyes were turned on her when she +entered a room; she reaped her harvest of flatteries and some few +words of warmer admiration, which she encouraged by a gesture or +a glance, but never suffered to penetrate deeper than the skin. +Her tone and bearing and everything else about her imposed her +will upon others. Her life was a sort of fever of vanity and +perpetual enjoyment, which turned her head. She was daring +enough in conversation; she would listen to anything, corrupting +the surface, as it were, of her heart. Yet when she returned +home, she often blushed at the story that had made her laugh; at +the scandalous tale that supplied the details, on the strength of +which she analysed the love that she had never known, and marked +the subtle distinctions of modern passion, not with comment on +the part of complacent hypocrites. For women know how to say +everything among themselves, and more of them are ruined by each +other than corrupted by men. + +There came a moment when she discerned that not until a woman is +loved will the world fully recognise her beauty and her wit. +What does a husband prove? Simply that a girl or woman was +endowed with wealth, or well brought up; that her mother managed +cleverly that in some way she satisfied a man's ambitions. A +lover constantly bears witness to her personal perfections. Then +followed the discovery still in Mme de Langeais's early +womanhood, that it was possible to be loved without committing +herself, without permission, without vouchsafing any satisfaction +beyond the most meagre dues. There was more than one demure +feminine hypocrite to instruct her in the art of playing such +dangerous comedies. + +So the Duchess had her court, and the number of her adorers and +courtiers guaranteed her virtue. She was amiable and +fascinating; she flirted till the ball or the evening's gaiety +was at an end. Then the curtain dropped. She was cold, +indifferent, self-contained again till the next day brought its +renewed sensations, superficial as before. Two or three men were +completely deceived, and fell in love in earnest. She laughed at +them, she was utterly insensible. "I am loved!" she told +herself. "He loves me!" The certainty sufficed her. It is +enough for the miser to know that his every whim might be +fulfilled if he chose; so it was with the Duchess, and perhaps +she did not even go so far as to form a wish. + +One evening she chanced to be at the house of an intimate friend +Mme la Vicomtesse de Fontaine, one of the humble rivals who +cordially detested her, and went with her everywhere. In a +"friendship" of this sort both sides are on their guard, and +never lay their armour aside; confidences are ingeniously +indiscreet, and not unfrequently treacherous. Mme de Langeais +had distributed her little patronising, friendly, or freezing +bows, with the air natural to a woman who knows the worth of her +smiles, when her eyes fell upon a total stranger. Something in +the man's large gravity of aspect startled her, and, with a +feeling almost like dread, she turned to Mme de Maufrigneuse +with, "Who is the newcomer, dear?" + +"Someone that you have heard of, no doubt. The Marquis de +Montriveau." + +"Oh! is it he?" + +She took up her eyeglass and submitted him to a very insolent +scrutiny, as if he had been a picture meant to receive glances, +not to return them. + +"Do introduce him; he ought to be interesting." + +"Nobody more tiresome and dull, dear. But he is the fashion." + +M. Armand de Montriveau, at that moment all unwittingly the +object of general curiosity, better deserved attention than any +of the idols that Paris needs must set up to worship for a brief +space, for the city is vexed by periodical fits of craving, a +passion for engouement and sham enthusiasm, which must be +satisfied. The Marquis was the only son of General de +Montriveau, one of the ci-devants who served the Republic nobly, +and fell by Joubert's side at Novi. Bonaparte had placed his son +at the school at Chalons, with the orphans of other generals who +fell on the battlefield, leaving their children under the +protection of the Republic. Armand de Montriveau left school +with his way to make, entered the artillery, and had only reached +a major's rank at the time of the Fontainebleau disaster. In his +section of the service the chances of advancement were not many. +There are fewer officers, in the first place, among the gunners +than in any other corps; and in the second place, the feeling in +the artillery was decidedly Liberal, not to say Republican; and +the Emperor, feeling little confidence in a body of highly +educated men who were apt to think for themselves, gave promotion +grudgingly in the service. In the artillery, accordingly, the +general rule of the army did not apply; the commanding officers +were not invariably the most remarkable men in their department, +because there was less to be feared from mediocrities. The +artillery was a separate corps in those days, and only came under +Napoleon in action. + +Besides these general causes, other reasons, inherent in Armand +de Montriveau's character, were sufficient in themselves to +account for his tardy promotion. He was alone in the world. He +had been thrown at the age of twenty into the whirlwind of men +directed by Napoleon; his interests were bounded by himself, any +day he might lose his life; it became a habit of mind with him to +live by his own self-respect and the consciousness that he had +done his duty. Like all shy men, he was habitually silent; but +his shyness sprang by no means from timidity; it was a kind of +modesty in him; he found any demonstration of vanity intolerable. + +There was no sort of swagger about his fearlessness in action; +nothing escaped his eyes; he could give sensible advice to his +chums with unshaken coolness; he could go under fire, and duck +upon occasion to avoid bullets. He was kindly; but his +expression was haughty and stern, and his face gained him this +character. In everything he was rigorous as arithmetic; he never +permitted the slightest deviation from duty on any plausible +pretext, nor blinked the consequences of a fact. He would lend +himself to nothing of which he was ashamed; he never asked +anything for himself; in short, Armand de Montriveau was one of +many great men unknown to fame, and philosophical enough to +despise it; living without attaching themselves to life, because +they have not found their opportunity of developing to the full +their power to do and feel. + +People were afraid of Montriveau; they respected him, but he was +not very popular. Men may indeed allow you to rise above them, +but to decline to descend as low as they can do is the one +unpardonable sin. In their feeling towards loftier natures, +there is a trace of hate and fear. Too much honour with them +implies censure of themselves, a thing forgiven neither to the +living nor to the dead. + +After the Emperor's farewells at Fontainebleau, Montriveau, noble +though he was, was put on half-pay. Perhaps the heads of the War +Office took fright at uncompromising uprightness worthy of +antiquity, or perhaps it was known that he felt bound by his oath +to the Imperial Eagle. During the Hundred Days he was made a +Colonel of the Guard, and left on the field of Waterloo. His +wounds kept him in Belgium he was not present at the disbanding +of the Army of the Loire, but the King's government declined to +recognise promotion made during the Hundred Days, and Armand de +Montriveau left France. + +An adventurous spirit, a loftiness of thought hitherto satisfied +by the hazards of war, drove him on an exploring expedition +through Upper Egypt; his sanity or impulse directed his +enthusiasm to a project of great importance, he turned his +attention to that unexplored Central Africa which occupies the +learned of today. The scientific expedition was long and +unfortunate. He had made a valuable collection of notes bearing +on various geographical and commercial problems, of which +solutions are still eagerly sought; and succeeded, after +surmounting many obstacles, in reaching the heart of the +continent, when he was betrayed into the hands of a hostile +native tribe. Then, stripped of all that he had, for two years +he led a wandering life in the desert, the slave of savages, +threatened with death at every moment, and more cruelly treated +than a dumb animal in the power of pitiless children. Physical +strength, and a mind braced to endurance, enabled him to survive +the horrors of that captivity; but his miraculous escape +well-nigh exhausted his energies. When he reached the French +colony at Senegal, a half-dead fugitive covered with rags, his +memories of his former life were dim and shapeless. The great +sacrifices made in his travels were all forgotten like his +studies of African dialects, his discoveries, and observations. +One story will give an idea of all that he passed through. Once +for several days the children of the sheikh of the tribe amused +themselves by putting him up for a mark and flinging horses' +knuckle-bones at his head. + +Montriveau came back to Paris in 1818 a ruined man. He had no +interest, and wished for none. He would have died twenty times +over sooner than ask a favour of anyone; he would not even press +the recognition of his claims. Adversity and hardship had +developed his energy even in trifles, while the habit of +preserving his self-respect before that spiritual self which we +call conscience led him to attach consequence to the most +apparently trivial actions. His merits and adventures became +known, however, through his acquaintances, among the principal +men of science in Paris, and some few well-read military men. +The incidents of his slavery and subsequent escape bore witness +to a courage, intelligence, and coolness which won him celebrity +without his knowledge, and that transient fame of which Paris +salons are lavish, though the artist that fain would keep it must +make untold efforts. + +Montriveau's position suddenly changed towards the end of that +year. He had been a poor man, he was now rich; or, externally at +any rate, he had all the advantages of wealth. The King's +government, trying to attach capable men to itself and to +strengthen the army, made concessions about that time to +Napoleon's old officers if their known loyalty and character +offered guarantees of fidelity. M. de Montriveau's name once +more appeared in the army list with the rank of colonel; he +received his arrears of pay and passed into the Guards. All +these favours, one after another, came to seek the Marquis de +Montriveau; he had asked for nothing however small. Friends had +taken the steps for him which he would have refused to take for +himself. + +After this, his habits were modified all at once; contrary to his +custom, he went into society. He was well received, everywhere +he met with great deference and respect. He seemed to have found +some end in life; but everything passed within the man, there +were no external signs; in society he was silent and cold, and +wore a grave, reserved face. His social success was great, +precisely because he stood out in such strong contrast to the +conventional faces which line the walls of Paris salons. He was, +indeed, something quite new there. Terse of speech, like a +hermit or a savage, his shyness was thought to be haughtiness, +and people were greatly taken with it. He was something strange +and great. Women generally were so much the more smitten with +this original person because he was not to be caught by their +flatteries, however adroit, nor by the wiles with which they +circumvent the strongest men and corrode the steel temper. Their +Parisian's grimaces were lost upon M. de Montriveau; his nature +only responded to the sonorous vibration of lofty thought and +feeling. And he would very promptly have been dropped but for +the romance that hung about his adventures and his life; but for +the men who cried him up behind his back; but for a woman who +looked for a triumph for her vanity, the woman who was to fill +his thoughts. + +For these reasons the Duchesse de Langeais's curiosity was no +less lively than natural. Chance had so ordered it that her +interest in the man before her had been aroused only the day +before, when she heard the story of one of M. de Montriveau's +adventures, a story calculated to make the strongest impression +upon a woman's ever-changing fancy. + +During M. de Montriveau's voyage of discovery to the sources of +the Nile, he had had an argument with one of his guides, surely +the most extraordinary debate in the annals of travel. The +district that he wished to explore could only be reached on foot +across a tract of desert. Only one of his guides knew the way; +no traveller had penetrated before into that part of the country, +where the undaunted officer hoped to find a solution of several +scientific problems. In spite of the representations made to him +by the guide and the older men of the place, he started upon the +formidable journey. Summoning up courage, already highly strung +by the prospect of dreadful difficulties, he set out in the +morning. + +The loose sand shifted under his feet at every step; and when, at +the end of a long day's march, he lay down to sleep on the +ground, he had never been so tired in his life. He knew, +however, that he must be up and on his way before dawn next day, +and his guide assured him that they should reach the end of their +journey towards noon. That promise kept up his courage and gave +him new strength. In spite of his sufferings, he continued his +march, with some blasphemings against science; he was ashamed to +complain to his guide, and kept his pain to himself. After +marching for a third of the day, he felt his strength failing, +his feet were bleeding, he asked if they should reach the place +soon. + +"In an hour's time," said the guide. Armand braced himself for +another hour's march, and they went on. + +The hour slipped by; he could not so much as see against the sky +the palm-trees and crests of hill that should tell of the end of +the journey near at hand; the horizon line of sand was vast as +the circle of the open sea. + +He came to a stand, refused to go farther, and threatened the +guide--he had deceived him, murdered him; tears of rage and +weariness flowed over his fevered cheeks; he was bowed down with +fatigue upon fatigue, his throat seemed to be glued by the desert +thirst. The guide meanwhile stood motionless, listening to these +complaints with an ironical expression, studying the while, with +the apparent indifference of an Oriental, the scarcely +perceptible indications in the lie of the sands, which looked +almost black, like burnished gold. + +"I have made a mistake," he remarked coolly. "I could not +make out the track, it is so long since I came this way; we are +surely on it now, but we must push on for two hours." + +"The man is right," thought M. de Montriveau. + +So he went on again, struggling to follow the pitiless native. +It seemed as if he were bound to his guide by some thread like +the invisible tie between the condemned man and the headsman. +But the two hours went by, Montriveau had spent his last drops of +energy, and the skyline was a blank, there were no palm-trees, no +hills. He could neither cry out nor groan, he lay down on the +sand to die, but his eyes would have frightened the boldest; +something in his face seemed to say that he would not die alone. +His guide, like a very fiend, gave him back a cool glance like a +man that knows his power, left him to lie there, and kept at a +safe distance out of reach of his desperate victim. At last M. +Montriveau recovered strength enough for a last curse. + +The guide came nearer, silenced him with a steady look, and said, +"Was it not your own will to go where I am taking you, in spite +of us all? You say that I have lied to you. If I had not, you +would not be even here. Do you want the truth? Here it is. WE +HAVE STILL ANOTHER FIVE HOURS' MARCH BEFORE US, AND WE CANNOT GO +BACK. Sound yourself; if you have not courage enough, here is my +dagger." + +Startled by this dreadful knowledge of pain and human strength, +M. de Montriveau would not be behind a savage; he drew a fresh +stock of courage from his pride as a European, rose to his feet, +and followed his guide. The five hours were at an end, and still +M. de Montriveau saw nothing, he turned his failing eyes upon his +guide; but the Nubian hoisted him on his shoulders, and showed +him a wide pool of water with greenness all about it, and a noble +forest lighted up by the sunset. It lay only a hundred paces +away; a vast ledge of granite hid the glorious landscape. It +seemed to Armand that he had taken a new lease of life. His +guide, that giant in courage and intelligence, finished his work +of devotion by carrying him across the hot, slippery, scarcely +discernible track on the granite. Behind him lay the hell of +burning sand, before him the earthly paradise of the most +beautiful oasis in the desert. + +The Duchess, struck from the first by the appearance of this +romantic figure, was even more impressed when she learned that +this was that Marquis de Montriveau of whom she had dreamed +during the night. She had been with him among the hot desert +sands, he had been the companion of her nightmare wanderings; for +such a woman was not this a delightful presage of a new interest +in her life? And never was a man's exterior a better exponent of +his character; never were curious glances so well justified. The +principal characteristic of his great, square-hewn head was the +thick, luxuriant black hair which framed his face, and gave him a +strikingly close resemblance to General Kleber; and the likeness +still held good in the vigorous forehead, in the outlines of his +face, the quiet fearlessness of his eyes, and a kind of fiery +vehemence expressed by strongly marked features. He was short, +deep-chested, and muscular as a lion. There was something of the +despot about him, and an indescribable suggestion of the security +of strength in his gait, bearing, and slightest movements. He +seemed to know that his will was irresistible, perhaps because he +wished for nothing unjust. And yet, like all really strong men, +he was mild of speech, simple in his manners, and kindly natured; +although it seemed as if, in the stress of a great crisis, all +these finer qualities must disappear, and the man would show +himself implacable, unshaken in his resolve, terrific in action. +There was a certain drawing in of the inner line of the lips +which, to a close observer, indicated an ironical bent. + +The Duchesse de Langeais, realising that a fleeting glory was to +be won by such a conquest, made up her mind to gain a lover in +Armand de Montriveau during the brief interval before the +Duchesse de Maufrigneuse brought him to be introduced. She would +prefer him above the others; she would attach him to herself, +display all her powers of coquetry for him. It was a fancy, such +a merest Duchess's whim as furnished a Lope or a Calderon with +the plot of the Dog in the Manger. She would not suffer another +woman to engross him; but she had not the remotest intention of +being his. + +Nature had given the Duchess every qualification for the part of +coquette, and education had perfected her. Women envied her, and +men fell in love with her, not without reason. Nothing that can +inspire love, justify it, and give it lasting empire was wanting +in her. Her style of beauty, her manner, her voice, her bearing, +all combined to give her that instinctive coquetry which seems to +be the consciousness of power. Her shape was graceful; perhaps +there was a trace of self-consciousness in her changes of +movement, the one affectation that could be laid to her charge; +but everything about her was a part of her personality, from her +least little gesture to the peculiar turn of her phrases, the +demure glance of her eyes. Her great lady's grace, her most +striking characteristic, had not destroyed the very French quick +mobility of her person. There was an extraordinary fascination +in her swift, incessant changes of attitude. She seemed as if +she surely would be a most delicious mistress when her corset and +the encumbering costume of her part were laid aside. All the +rapture of love surely was latent in the freedom of her +expressive glances, in her caressing tones, in the charm of her +words. She gave glimpses of the high-born courtesan within her, +vainly protesting against the creeds of the duchess. + +You might sit near her through an evening, she would be gay and +melancholy in turn, and her gaiety, like her sadness, seemed +spontaneous. She could be gracious, disdainful, insolent, or +confiding at will. Her apparent good nature was real; she had no +temptation to descend to malignity. But at each moment her mood +changed; she was full of confidence or craft; her moving +tenderness would give place to a heart-breaking hardness and +insensibility. Yet how paint her as she was, without bringing +together all the extremes of feminine nature? In a word, the +Duchess was anything that she wished to be or to seem. Her face +was slightly too long. There was a grace in it, and a certain +thinness and fineness that recalled the portraits of the Middle +Ages. Her skin was white, with a faint rose tint. Everything +about her erred, as it were, by an excess of delicacy. + +M. de Montriveau willingly consented to be introduced to the +Duchesse de Langeais; and she, after the manner of persons whose +sensitive taste leads them to avoid banalities, refrained from +overwhelming him with questions and compliments. She received +him with a gracious deference which could not fail to flatter a +man of more than ordinary powers, for the fact that a man rises +above the ordinary level implies that he possesses something of +that tact which makes women quick to read feeling. If the +Duchess showed any curiosity, it was by her glances; her +compliments were conveyed in her manner; there was a winning +grace displayed in her words, a subtle suggestion of a desire to +please which she of all women knew the art of manifesting. Yet +her whole conversation was but, in a manner, the body of the +letter; the postscript with the principal thought in it was still +to come. After half an hour spent in ordinary talk, in which the +words gained all their value from her tone and smiles, M. de +Montriveau was about to retire discreetly, when the Duchess +stopped him with an expressive gesture. + +"I do not know, monsieur, whether these few minutes during which +I have had the pleasure of talking to you proved so sufficiently +attractive, that I may venture to ask you to call upon me; I am +afraid that it may be very selfish of me to wish to have you all +to myself. If I should be so fortunate as to find that my house +is agreeable to you, you will always find me at home in the +evening until ten o'clock." + +The invitation was given with such irresistible grace, that M. de +Montriveau could not refuse to accept it. When he fell back +again among the groups of men gathered at a distance from the +women, his friends congratulated him, half laughingly, half in +earnest, on the extraordinary reception vouchsafed him by the +Duchesse de Langeais. The difficult and brilliant conquest had +been made beyond a doubt, and the glory of it was reserved for +the Artillery of the Guard. It is easy to imagine the jests, +good and bad, when this topic had once been started; the world of +Paris salons is so eager for amusement, and a joke lasts for such +a short time, that everyone is eager to make the most of it while +it is fresh. + +All unconsciously, the General felt flattered by this nonsense. +From his place where he had taken his stand, his eyes were drawn +again and again to the Duchess by countless wavering reflections. + +He could not help admitting to himself that of all the women +whose beauty had captivated his eyes, not one had seemed to be a +more exquisite embodiment of faults and fair qualities blended in +a completeness that might realise the dreams of earliest manhood. + +Is there a man in any rank of life that has not felt indefinable +rapture in his secret soul over the woman singled out (if only in +his dreams) to be his own; when she, in body, soul, and social +aspects, satisfies his every requirement, a thrice perfect woman? + +And if this threefold perfection that flatters his pride is no +argument for loving her, it is beyond cavil one of the great +inducements to the sentiment. Love would soon be convalescent, +as the eighteenth century moralist remarked, were it not for +vanity. And it is certainly true that for everyone, man or +woman, there is a wealth of pleasure in the superiority of the +beloved. Is she set so high by birth that a contemptuous glance +can never wound her? is she wealthy enough to surround herself +with state which falls nothing short of royalty, of kings, of +finance during their short reign of splendour? is she so +ready-witted that a keen-edged jest never brings her into +confusion? beautiful enough to rival any woman?--Is it such a +small thing to know that your self-love will never suffer through +her? A man makes these reflections in the twinkling of an eye. +And how if, in the future opened out by early ripened passion, he +catches glimpses of the changeful delight of her charm, the frank +innocence of a maiden soul, the perils of love's voyage, the +thousand folds of the veil of coquetry? Is not this enough to +move the coldest man's heart? + +This, therefore, was M. de Montriveau's position with regard to +woman; his past life in some measure explaining the extraordinary +fact. He had been thrown, when little more than a boy, into the +hurricane of Napoleon's wars; his life had been spent on fields +of battle. Of women he knew just so much as a traveller knows of +a country when he travels across it in haste from one inn to +another. The verdict which Voltaire passed upon his eighty years +of life might, perhaps, have been applied by Montriveau to his +own thirty-seven years of existence; had he not thirty-seven +follies with which to reproach himself? At his age he was as +much a novice in love as the lad that has just been furtively +reading Faublas. Of women he had nothing to learn; of love he +knew nothing; and thus, desires, quite unknown before, sprang +from this virginity of feeling. + +There are men here and there as much engrossed in the work +demanded of them by poverty or ambition, art or science, as M. de +Montriveau by war and a life of adventure--these know what it is +to be in this unusual position if they very seldom confess to it. + +Every man in Paris is supposed to have been in love. No woman in +Paris cares to take what other women have passed over. The dread +of being taken for a fool is the source of the coxcomb's bragging +so common in France; for in France to have the reputation of a +fool is to be a foreigner in one's own country. Vehement desire +seized on M. de Montriveau, desire that had gathered strength +from the heat of the desert and the first stirrings of a heart +unknown as yet in its suppressed turbulence. + +A strong man, and violent as he was strong, he could keep mastery +over himself; but as he talked of indifferent things, he retired +within himself, and swore to possess this woman, for through that +thought lay the only way to love for him. Desire became a solemn +compact made with himself, an oath after the manner of the Arabs +among whom he had lived; for among them a vow is a kind of +contract made with Destiny a man's whole future is solemnly +pledged to fulfil it, and everything even his own death, is +regarded simply as a means to the one end. + +A younger man would have said to himself, "I should very much +like to have the Duchess for my mistress!" or, "If the Duchesse +de Langeais cared for a man, he would be a very lucky rascal!" +But the General said, "I will have Mme de Langeais for my +mistress." And if a man takes such an idea into his head when +his heart has never been touched before, and love begins to be a +kind of religion with him, he little knows in what a hell he has +set his foot. + +Armand de Montriveau suddenly took flight and went home in the +first hot fever-fit of the first love that he had known. When a +man has kept all his boyish beliefs, illusions, frankness, and +impetuosity into middle age, his first impulse is, as it were, to +stretch out a hand to take the thing that he desires; a little +later he realises that there is a gulf set between them, and that +it is all but impossible to cross it. A sort of childish +impatience seizes him, he wants the thing the more, and trembles +or cries. Wherefore, the next day, after the stormiest +reflections that had yet perturbed his mind, Armand de Montriveau +discovered that he was under the yoke of the senses, and his +bondage made the heavier by his love. + +The woman so cavalierly treated in his thoughts of yesterday had +become a most sacred and dreadful power. She was to be his +world, his life, from this time forth. The greatest joy, the +keenest anguish, that he had yet known grew colourless before the +bare recollection of the least sensation stirred in him by her. +The swiftest revolutions in a man's outward life only touch his +interests, while passion brings a complete revulsion of feeling. +And so in those who live by feeling, rather than by +self-interest, the doers rather than the reasoners, the sanguine +rather than the lymphatic temperaments, love works a complete +revolution. In a flash, with one single reflection, Armand de +Montriveau wiped out his whole past life. + +A score of times he asked himself, like a boy, "Shall I go, or +shall I not?" and then at last he dressed, came to the Hotel de +Langeais towards eight o'clock that evening, and was admitted. +He was to see the woman--ah! not the woman--the idol that he had +seen yesterday, among lights, a fresh innocent girl in gauze and +silken lace and veiling. He burst in upon her to declare his +love, as if it were a question of firing the first shot on a +field of battle. + +Poor novice! He found his ethereal sylphide shrouded in a brown +cashmere dressing-gown ingeniously befrilled, lying languidly +stretched out upon a sofa in a dimly lighted boudoir. Mme de +Langeais did not so much as rise, nothing was visible of her but +her face, her hair was loose but confined by a scarf. A hand +indicated a seat, a hand that seemed white as marble to +Montriveau by the flickering light of a single candle at the +further side of the room, and a voice as soft as the light said-- + +"If it had been anyone else, M. le Marquis, a friend with whom I +could dispense with ceremony, or a mere acquaintance in whom I +felt but slight interest, I should have closed my door. I am +exceedingly unwell." + +"I will go," Armand said to himself. + +"But I do not know how it is," she continued (and the simple +warrior attributed the shining of her eyes to fever), "perhaps +it was a presentiment of your kind visit (and no one can be more +sensible of the prompt attention than I), but the vapours have +left my head." + +"Then may I stay?" + +"Oh, I should be very sorry to allow you to go. I told myself +this morning that it was impossible that I should have made the +slightest impression on your mind, and that in all probability +you took my request for one of the commonplaces of which +Parisians are lavish on every occasion. And I forgave your +ingratitude in advance. An explorer from the deserts is not +supposed to know how exclusive we are in our friendships in the +Faubourg." + +The gracious, half-murmured words dropped one by one, as if they +had been weighted with the gladness that apparently brought them +to her lips. The Duchess meant to have the full benefit of her +headache, and her speculation was fully successful. The General, +poor man, was really distressed by the lady's simulated distress. + +Like Crillon listening to the story of the Crucifixion, he was +ready to draw his sword against the vapours. How could a man +dare to speak just then to this suffering woman of the love that +she inspired? Armand had already felt that it would be absurd to +fire off a declaration of love point-blank at one so far above +other women. With a single thought came understanding of the +delicacies of feeling, of the soul's requirements. To love: what +was that but to know how to plead, to beg for alms, to wait? And +as for the love that he felt, must he not prove it? His tongue +was mute, it was frozen by the conventions of the noble Faubourg, +the majesty of a sick headache, the bashfulness of love. But no +power on earth could veil his glances; the heat and the Infinite +of the desert blazed in eyes calm as a panther's, beneath the +lids that fell so seldom. The Duchess enjoyed the steady gaze +that enveloped her in light and warmth. + +"Mme la Duchesse," he answered, "I am afraid I express my +gratitude for your goodness very badly. At this moment I have +but one desire--I wish it were in my power to cure the pain." + +"Permit me to throw this off, I feel too warm now," she said, +gracefully tossing aside a cushion that covered her feet. + +"Madame, in Asia your feet would be worth some ten thousand +sequins. + +"A traveller's compliment!" smiled she. + +It pleased the sprightly lady to involve a rough soldier in a +labyrinth of nonsense, commonplaces, and meaningless talk, in +which he manoeuvred, in military language, as Prince Charles +might have done at close quarters with Napoleon. She took a +mischievous amusement in reconnoitring the extent of his +infatuation by the number of foolish speeches extracted from a +novice whom she led step by step into a hopeless maze, meaning to +leave him there in confusion. She began by laughing at him, but +nevertheless it pleased her to make him forget how time went. + +The length of a first visit is frequently a compliment, but +Armand was innocent of any such intent. The famous explorer +spent an hour in chat on all sorts of subjects, said nothing that +he meant to say, and was feeling that he was only an instrument +on whom this woman played, when she rose, sat upright, drew the +scarf from her hair, and wrapped it about her throat, leant her +elbow on the cushions, did him the honour of a complete cure, and +rang for lights. The most graceful movement succeeded to +complete repose. She turned to M. de Montriveau, from whom she +had just extracted a confidence which seemed to interest her +deeply, and said-- + +"You wish to make game of me by trying to make me believe that +you have never loved. It is a man's great pretension with us. +And we always believe it! Out of pure politeness. Do we not +know what to expect from it for ourselves? Where is the man that +has found but a single opportunity of losing his heart? But you +love to deceive us, and we submit to be deceived, poor foolish +creatures that we are; for your hypocrisy is, after all, a homage +paid to the superiority of our sentiments, which are all +purity." + +The last words were spoken with a disdainful pride that made the +novice in love feel like a worthless bale flung into the deep, +while the Duchess was an angel soaring back to her particular +heaven. + +"Confound it!" thought Armand de Montriveau, "how am I to tell +this wild thing that I love her?" + +He had told her already a score of times; or rather, the Duchess +had a score of times read his secret in his eyes; and the passion +in this unmistakably great man promised her amusement, and an +interest in her empty life. So she prepared with no little +dexterity to raise a certain number of redoubts for him to carry +by storm before he should gain an entrance into her heart. +Montriveau should overleap one difficulty after another; he +should be a plaything for her caprice, just as an insect teased +by children is made to jump from one finger to another, and in +spite of all its pains is kept in the same place by its +mischievous tormentor. And yet it gave the Duchess inexpressible +happiness to see that this strong man had told her the truth. +Armand had never loved, as he had said. He was about to go, in a +bad humour with himself, and still more out of humour with her; +but it delighted her to see a sullenness that she could conjure +away with a word, a glance, or a gesture. + +"Will you come tomorrow evening?" she asked. "I am going to a +ball, but I shall stay at home for you until ten o'clock." + +Montriveau spent most of the next day in smoking an indeterminate +quantity of cigars in his study window, and so got through the +hours till he could dress and go to the Hotel de Langeais. To +anyone who had known the magnificent worth of the man, it would +have been grievous to see him grown so small, so distrustful of +himself; the mind that might have shed light over undiscovered +worlds shrunk to the proportions of a she-coxcomb's boudoir. +Even he himself felt that he had fallen so low already in his +happiness that to save his life he could not have told his love +to one of his closest friends. Is there not always a trace of +shame in the lover's bashfulness, and perhaps in woman a certain +exultation over diminished masculine stature? Indeed, but for a +host of motives of this kind, how explain why women are nearly +always the first to betray the secret?--a secret of which, +perhaps, they soon weary. + +"Mme la Duchesse cannot see visitors, monsieur," said the man; +"she is dressing, she begs you to wait for her here." + +Armand walked up and down the drawing-room, studying her taste in +the least details. He admired Mme de Langeais herself in the +objects of her choosing; they revealed her life before he could +grasp her personality and ideas. About an hour later the Duchess +came noiselessly out of her chamber. Montriveau turned, saw her +flit like a shadow across the room, and trembled. She came up to +him, not with a bourgeoise's enquiry, "How do I look?" She was +sure of herself; her steady eyes said plainly, "I am adorned to +please you." + +No one surely, save the old fairy godmother of some princess in +disguise, could have wound a cloud of gauze about the dainty +throat, so that the dazzling satin skin beneath should gleam +through the gleaming folds. The Duchess was dazzling. The pale +blue colour of her gown, repeated in the flowers in her hair, +appeared by the richness of its hue to lend substance to a +fragile form grown too wholly ethereal; for as she glided towards +Armand, the loose ends of her scarf floated about her, putting +that valiant warrior in mind of the bright damosel flies that +hover now over water, now over the flowers with which they seem +to mingle and blend. + +"I have kept you waiting," she said, with the tone that a woman +can always bring into her voice for the man whom she wishes to +please. + +"I would wait patiently through an eternity," said he, "if I +were sure of finding a divinity so fair; but it is no compliment +to speak of your beauty to you; nothing save worship could touch +you. Suffer me only to kiss your scarf." + +"Oh, fie!" she said, with a commanding gesture, "I esteem you +enough to give you my hand." + +She held it out for his kiss. A woman's hand, still moist from +the scented bath, has a soft freshness, a velvet smoothness that +sends a tingling thrill from the lips to the soul. And if a man +is attracted to a woman, and his senses are as quick to feel +pleasure as his heart is full of love, such a kiss, though chaste +in appearance, may conjure up a terrific storm. + +"Will you always give it me like this?" the General asked +humbly when he had pressed that dangerous hand respectfully to +his lips. + +"Yes, but there we must stop," she said, smiling. She sat +down, and seemed very slow over putting on her gloves, trying to +slip the unstretched kid over all her fingers at once, while she +watched M. de Montriveau; and he was lost in admiration of the +Duchess and those repeated graceful movements of hers. + +"Ah! you were punctual," she said; "that is right. I like +punctuality. It is the courtesy of kings, His Majesty says; but +to my thinking, from you men it is the most respectful flattery +of all. Now, is it not? Just tell me." + +Again she gave him a side glance to express her insidious +friendship, for he was dumb with happiness sheer happiness +through such nothings as these! Oh, the Duchess understood son +metier de femme--the art and mystery of being a woman--most +marvellously well; she knew, to admiration, how to raise a man in +his own esteem as he humbled himself to her; how to reward every +step of the descent to sentimental folly with hollow flatteries. + +"You will never forget to come at nine o'clock." + +"No; but are you going to a ball every night?" + +"Do I know?" she answered, with a little childlike shrug of the +shoulders; the gesture was meant to say that she was nothing if +not capricious, and that a lover must take her as she +was.--"Besides," she added, "what is that to you? You shall +be my escort." + +"That would be difficult tonight," he objected; "I am not +properly dressed." + +"It seems to me," she returned loftily, "that if anyone has a +right to complain of your costume, it is I. Know, therefore, +monsieur le voyageur, that if I accept a man's arm, he is +forthwith above the laws of fashion, nobody would venture to +criticise him. You do not know the world, I see; I like you the +better for it." + +And even as she spoke she swept him into the pettiness of that +world by the attempt to initiate him into the vanities of a woman +of fashion. + +"If she chooses to do a foolish thing for me, I should be a +simpleton to prevent her," said Armand to himself. "She has a +liking for me beyond a doubt; and as for the world, she cannot +despise it more than I do. So, now for the ball if she likes." + +The Duchess probably thought that if the General came with her +and appeared in a ballroom in boots and a black tie, nobody would +hesitate to believe that he was violently in love with her. And +the General was well pleased that the queen of fashion should +think of compromising herself for him; hope gave him wit. He had +gained confidence, he brought out his thoughts and views; he felt +nothing of the restraint that weighed on his spirits yesterday. +His talk was interesting and animated, and full of those first +confidences so sweet to make and to receive. + +Was Mme de Langeais really carried away by his talk, or had she +devised this charming piece of coquetry? At any rate, she looked +up mischievously as the clock struck twelve. + +"Ah! you have made me too late for the ball!" she exclaimed, +surprised and vexed that she had forgotten how time was going. + +The next moment she approved the exchange of pleasures with a +smile that made Armand's heart give a sudden leap. + +"I certainly promised Mme de Beauseant," she added. "They are +all expecting me." + +"Very well--go." + +"No--go on. I will stay. Your Eastern adventures fascinate me. +Tell me the whole story of your life. I love to share in a brave +man's hardships, and I feel them all, indeed I do!" + +She was playing with her scarf, twisting it and pulling it to +pieces, with jerky, impatient movements that seemed to tell of +inward dissatisfaction and deep reflection. + +"WE are fit for nothing," she went on. "Ah! we are +contemptible, selfish, frivolous creatures. We can bore +ourselves with amusements, and that is all we can do. Not one of +us that understands that she has a part to play in life. In old +days in France, women were beneficent lights; they lived to +comfort those that mourned, to encourage high virtues, to reward +artists and stir new life with noble thoughts. If the world has +grown so petty, ours is the fault. You make me loathe the ball +and this world in which I live. No, I am not giving up much for +you." + +She had plucked her scarf to pieces, as a child plays with a +flower, pulling away all the petals one by one; and now she +crushed it into a ball, and flung it away. She could show her +swan's neck. + +She rang the bell. "I shall not go out tonight," she told the +footman. Her long, blue eyes turned timidly to Armand; and by +the look of misgiving in them, he knew that he was meant to take +the order for a confession, for a first and great favour. There +was a pause, filled with many thoughts, before she spoke with +that tenderness which is often in women's voices, and not so +often in their hearts. "You have had a hard life," she said. + +"No," returned Armand. "Until today I did not know what +happiness was." + +"Then you know it now?" she asked, looking at him with a +demure, keen glance. + +"What is happiness for me henceforth but this--to see you, to +hear you? . . . Until now I have only known privation; now I +know that I can be unhappy----" + +"That will do, that will do," she said. "You must go; it is +past midnight. Let us regard appearances. People must not talk +about us. I do not know quite what I shall say; but the headache +is a good-natured friend, and tells no tales." + +"Is there to be a ball tomorrow night?" + +"You would grow accustomed to the life, I think. Very well. +Yes, we will go again tomorrow night." + +There was not a happier man in the world than Armand when he went +out from her. Every evening he came to Mme de Langeais's at the +hour kept for him by a tacit understanding. + +It would be tedious, and, for the many young men who carry a +redundance of such sweet memories in their hearts, it were +superfluous to follow the story step by step--the progress of a +romance growing in those hours spent together, a romance +controlled entirely by a woman's will. If sentiment went too +fast, she would raise a quarrel over a word, or when words +flagged behind her thoughts, she appealed to the feelings. +Perhaps the only way of following such Penelope's progress is by +marking its outward and visible signs. + +As, for instance, within a few days of their first meeting, the +assiduous General had won and kept the right to kiss his lady's +insatiable hands. Wherever Mme de Langeais went, M. de +Montriveau was certain to be seen, till people jokingly called +him "Her Grace's orderly." And already he had made enemies; +others were jealous, and envied him his position. Mme de +Langeais had attained her end. The Marquis de Montriveau was +among her numerous train of adorers, and a means of humiliating +those who boasted of their progress in her good graces, for she +publicly gave him preference over them all. + +"Decidedly, M. de Montriveau is the man for whom the Duchess +shows a preference," pronounced Mme de Serizy. + +And who in Paris does not know what it means when a woman "shows +a preference?" All went on therefore according to prescribed +rule. The anecdotes which people were pleased to circulate +concerning the General put that warrior in so formidable a light, +that the more adroit quietly dropped their pretensions to the +Duchess, and remained in her train merely to turn the position to +account, and to use her name and personality to make better terms +for themselves with certain stars of the second magnitude. And +those lesser powers were delighted to take a lover away from Mme +de Langeais. The Duchess was keen-sighted enough to see these +desertions and treaties with the enemy; and her pride would not +suffer her to be the dupe of them. As M. de Talleyrand, one of +her great admirers, said, she knew how to take a second edition +of revenge, laying the two-edged blade of a sarcasm between the +pairs in these "morganatic" unions. Her mocking disdain +contributed not a little to increase her reputation as an +extremely clever woman and a person to be feared. Her character +for virtue was consolidated while she amused herself with other +people's secrets, and kept her own to herself. Yet, after two +months of assiduities, she saw with a vague dread in the depths +of her soul that M. de Montriveau understood nothing of the +subtleties of flirtation after the manner of the Faubourg +Saint-Germain; he was taking a Parisienne's coquetry in earnest. + +"You will not tame HIM, dear Duchess," the old Vidame de +Pamiers had said. "'Tis a first cousin to the eagle; he will +carry you off to his eyrie if you do not take care." + +Then Mme de Langeais felt afraid. The shrewd old noble's words +sounded like a prophecy. The next day she tried to turn love to +hate. She was harsh, exacting, irritable, unbearable; Montriveau +disarmed her with angelic sweetness. She so little knew the +great generosity of a large nature, that the kindly jests with +which her first complaints were met went to her heart. She +sought a quarrel, and found proofs of affection. She persisted. + +"When a man idolises you, how can he have vexed you?" asked +Armand. + +"You do not vex me," she answered, suddenly grown gentle and +submissive. "But why do you wish to compromise me? For me you +ought to be nothing but a FRIEND. Do you not know it? I wish I +could see that you had the instincts, the delicacy of real +friendship, so that I might lose neither your respect nor the +pleasure that your presence gives me." + +"Nothing but your FRIEND!" he cried out. The terrible word +sent an electric shock through his brain. "On the faith of +these happy hours that you grant me, I sleep and wake in your +heart. And now today, for no reason, you are pleased to destroy +all the secret hopes by which I live. You have required promises +of such constancy in me, you have said so much of your horror of +women made up of nothing but caprice; and now do you wish me to +understand that, like other women here in Paris, you have +passions, and know nothing of love? If so, why did you ask my +life of me? why did you accept it?" + +"I was wrong, my friend. Oh, it is wrong of a woman to yield to +such intoxication when she must not and cannot make any return." + +"I understand. You have merely been coquetting with me, +and----" + +"Coquetting?" she repeated. "I detest coquetry. A coquette +Armand, makes promises to many, and gives herself to none; and a +woman who keeps such promises is a libertine. This much I +believed I had grasped of our code. But to be melancholy with +humorists, gay with the frivolous, and politic with ambitious +souls; to listen to a babbler with every appearance of +admiration, to talk of war with a soldier, wax enthusiastic with +philanthropists over the good of the nation, and to give to each +one his little dole of flattery--it seems to me that this is as +much a matter of necessity as dress, diamonds, and gloves, or +flowers in one's hair. Such talk is the moral counterpart of the +toilette. You take it up and lay it aside with the plumed +head-dress. Do you call this coquetry? Why, I have never +treated you as I treat everyone else. With you, my friend, I am +sincere. Have I not always shared your views, and when you +convinced me after a discussion, was I not always perfectly glad? +In short, I love you, but only as a devout and pure woman may +love. I have thought it over. I am a married woman, Armand. My +way of life with M. de Langeais gives me liberty to bestow my +heart; but law and custom leave me no right to dispose of my +person. If a woman loses her honour, she is an outcast in any +rank of life; and I have yet to meet with a single example of a +man that realises all that our sacrifices demand of him in such a +case. Quite otherwise. Anyone can foresee the rupture between +Mme de Beauseant and M. d'Ajuda (for he is going to marry Mlle de +Rochefide, it seems), that affair made it clear to my mind that +these very sacrifices on the woman's part are almost always the +cause of the man's desertion. If you had loved me sincerely, you +would have kept away for a time.--Now, I will lay aside all +vanity for you; is not that something? What will not people say +of a woman to whom no man attaches himself? Oh, she is +heartless, brainless, soulless; and what is more, devoid of +charm! Coquettes will not spare me. They will rob me of the +very qualities that mortify them. So long as my reputation is +safe, what do I care if my rivals deny my merits? They certainly +will not inherit them. Come, my friend; give up something for +her who sacrifices so much for you. Do not come quite so often; +I shall love you none the less." + +"Ah!" said Armand, with the profound irony of a wounded heart +in his words and tone. "Love, so the scribblers say, only feeds +on illusions. Nothing could be truer, I see; I am expected to +imagine that I am loved. But, there!--there are some thoughts +like wounds, from which there is no recovery. My belief in you +was one of the last left to me, and now I see that there is +nothing left to believe in this earth." + +She began to smile. + +"Yes," Montriveau went on in an unsteady voice, "this Catholic +faith to which you wish to convert me is a lie that men make for +themselves; hope is a lie at the expense of the future; pride, a +lie between us and our fellows; and pity, and prudence, and +terror are cunning lies. And now my happiness is to be one more +lying delusion; I am expected to delude myself, to be willing to +give gold coin for silver to the end. If you can so easily +dispense with my visits; if you can confess me neither as your +friend nor your lover, you do not care for me! And I, poor fool +that I am, tell myself this, and know it, and love you!" + +"But, dear me, poor Armand, you are flying into a passion!" + +"I flying into a passion?" + +"Yes. You think that the whole question is opened because I ask +you to be careful." + +In her heart of hearts she was delighted with the anger that +leapt out in her lover's eyes. Even as she tortured him, she was +criticising him, watching every slightest change that passed over +his face. If the General had been so unluckily inspired as to +show himself generous without discussion (as happens occasionally +with some artless souls), he would have been a banished man +forever, accused and convicted of not knowing how to love. Most +women are not displeased to have their code of right and wrong +broken through. Do they not flatter themselves that they never +yield except to force? But Armand was not learned enough in this +kind of lore to see the snare ingeniously spread for him by the +Duchess. So much of the child was there in the strong man in +love. + +"If all you want is to preserve appearances," he began in his +simplicity, "I am willing to----" + +"Simply to preserve appearances!" the lady broke in; "why, +what idea can you have of me? Have I given you the slightest +reason to suppose that I can be yours?" + +"Why, what else are we talking about?" demanded Montriveau. + +"Monsieur, you frighten me ! . . . No, pardon me. Thank you," +she added, coldly; "thank you, Armand. You have given me timely +warning of imprudence; committed quite unconsciously, believe it, +my friend. You know how to endure, you say. I also know how to +endure. We will not see each other for a time; and then, when +both of us have contrived to recover calmness to some extent, we +will think about arrangements for a happiness sanctioned by the +world. I am young, Armand; a man with no delicacy might tempt a +woman of four-and-twenty to do many foolish, wild things for his +sake. But YOU! You will be my friend, promise me that you +will?" + +"The woman of four-and-twenty," returned he, "knows what she +is about." + +He sat down on the sofa in the boudoir, and leant his head on his +hands. + +"Do you love me, madame?" he asked at length, raising his head, +and turning a face full of resolution upon her. "Say it +straight out; Yes or No!" + +His direct question dismayed the Duchess more than a threat of +suicide could have done; indeed, the woman of the nineteenth +century is not to be frightened by that stale stratagem, the +sword has ceased to be part of the masculine costume. But in the +effect of eyelids and lashes, in the contraction of the gaze, in +the twitching of the lips, is there not some influence that +communicates the terror which they express with such vivid +magnetic power? + +"Ah, if I were free, if----" + +"Oh! is it only your husband that stands in the way?" the +General exclaimed joyfully, as he strode to and fro in the +boudoir. "Dear Antoinette, I wield a more absolute power than +the Autocrat of all the Russias. I have a compact with Fate; I +can advance or retard destiny, so far as men are concerned, at my +fancy, as you alter the hands of a watch. If you can direct the +course of fate in our political machinery, it simply means (does +it not?) that you understand the ins and outs of it. You shall +be free before very long, and then you must remember your +promise." + +"Armand!" she cried. "What do you mean? Great heavens! Can +you imagine that I am to be the prize of a crime? Do you want to +kill me? Why! you cannot have any religion in you! For my own +part, I fear God. M. de Langeais may have given me reason to +hate him, but I wish him no manner of harm." + +M. de Montriveau beat a tattoo on the marble chimneypiece, and +only looked composedly at the lady. + +"Dear," continued she, "respect him. He does not love me, he +is not kind to me, but I have duties to fulfil with regard to +him. What would I not do to avert the calamities with which you +threaten him?--Listen," she continued after a pause, "I will +not say another word about separation; you shall come here as in +the past, and I will still give you my forehead to kiss. If I +refused once or twice, it was pure coquetry, indeed it was. But +let us understand each other," she added as he came closer. +"You will permit me to add to the number of my satellites; to +receive even more visitors in the morning than heretofore; I mean +to be twice as frivolous; I mean to use you to all appearance +very badly; to feign a rupture; you must come not quite so often, +and then, afterwards----" + +While she spoke, she had allowed him to put an arm about her +waist, Montriveau was holding her tightly to him, and she seemed +to feel the exceeding pleasure that women usually feel in that +close contact, an earnest of the bliss of a closer union. And +then, doubtless she meant to elicit some confidence, for she +raised herself on tiptoe, and laid her forehead against Armand's +burning lips. + +"And then," Montriveau finished her sentence for her, "you +shall not speak to me of your husband. You ought not to think of +him again." + +Mme de Langeais was silent awhile. + +"At least," she said, after a significant pause, "at least you +will do all that I wish without grumbling, you will not be +naughty; tell me so, my friend? You wanted to frighten me, did +you not? Come, now, confess it ? . . . You are too good ever to +think of crimes. But is it possible that you can have secrets +that I do not know? How can you control Fate?" + +"Now, when you confirm the gift of the heart that you have +already given me, I am far too happy to know exactly how to +answer you. I can trust you, Antoinette; I shall have no +suspicion, no unfounded jealousy of you. But if accident should +set you free, we shall be one----" + +"Accident, Armand?" (With that little dainty turn of the head +that seems to say so many things, a gesture that such women as +the Duchess can use on light occasions, as a great singer can act +with her voice.) "Pure accident," she repeated. "Mind that. +If anything should happen to M. de Langeais by your fault, I +should never be yours." + +And so they parted, mutually content. The Duchess had made a +pact that left her free to prove to the world by words and deeds +that M. de Montriveau was no lover of hers. And as for him, the +wily Duchess vowed to tire him out. He should have nothing of +her beyond the little concessions snatched in the course of +contests that she could stop at her pleasure. She had so pretty +an art of revoking the grant of yesterday, she was so much in +earnest in her purpose to remain technically virtuous, that she +felt that there was not the slightest danger for her in +preliminaries fraught with peril for a woman less sure of her +self-command. After all, the Duchess was practically separated +from her husband; a marriage long since annulled was no great +sacrifice to make to her love. + +Montriveau on his side was quite happy to win the vaguest +promise, glad once for all to sweep aside, with all scruples of +conjugal fidelity, her stock of excuses for refusing herself to +his love. He had gained ground a little, and congratulated +himself. And so for a time he took unfair advantage of the +rights so hardly won. More a boy than he had ever been in his +life, he gave himself up to all the childishness that makes first +love the flower of life. He was a child again as he poured out +all his soul, all the thwarted forces that passion had given him, +upon her hands, upon the dazzling forehead that looked so pure to +his eyes; upon her fair hair; on the tufted curls where his lips +were pressed. And the Duchess, on whom his love was poured like +a flood, was vanquished by the magnetic influence of her lover's +warmth; she hesitated to begin the quarrel that must part them +forever. She was more a woman than she thought, this slight +creature, in her effort to reconcile the demands of religion with +the ever-new sensations of vanity, the semblance of pleasure +which turns a Parisienne's head. Every Sunday she went to Mass; +she never missed a service; then, when evening came, she was +steeped in the intoxicating bliss of repressed desire. Armand +and Mme de Langeais, like Hindoo fakirs, found the reward of +their continence in the temptations to which it gave rise. +Possibly, the Duchess had ended by resolving love into fraternal +caresses, harmless enough, as it might have seemed to the rest of +the world, while they borrowed extremes of degradation from the +licence of her thoughts. How else explain the incomprehensible +mystery of her continual fluctuations? Every morning she +proposed to herself to shut her door on the Marquis de +Montriveau; every evening, at the appointed hour, she fell under +the charm of his presence. There was a languid defence; then she +grew less unkind. Her words were sweet and soothing. They were +lovers--lovers only could have been thus. For him the Duchess +would display her most sparkling wit, her most captivating wiles; +and when at last she had wrought upon his senses and his soul, +she might submit herself passively to his fierce caresses, but +she had her nec plus ultra of passion; and when once it was +reached, she grew angry if he lost the mastery of himself and +made as though he would pass beyond. No woman on earth can brave +the consequences of refusal without some motive; nothing is more +natural than to yield to love; wherefore Mme de Langeais promptly +raised a second line of fortification, a stronghold less easy to +carry than the first. She evoked the terrors of religion. Never +did Father of the Church, however eloquent, plead the cause of +God better than the Duchess. Never was the wrath of the Most +High better justified than by her voice. She used no preacher's +commonplaces, no rhetorical amplifications. No. She had a +"pulpit-tremor" of her own. To Armand's most passionate +entreaty, she replied with a tearful gaze, and a gesture in which +a terrible plenitude of emotion found expression. She stopped +his mouth with an appeal for mercy. She would not hear another +word; if she did, she must succumb; and better death than +criminal happiness. + +"Is it nothing to disobey God?" she asked him, recovering a +voice grown faint in the crises of inward struggles, through +which the fair actress appeared to find it hard to preserve her +self-control. "I would sacrifice society, I would give up the +whole world for you, gladly; but it is very selfish of you to ask +my whole after-life of me for a moment of pleasure. Come, now! +are you not happy?" she added, holding out her hand; and +certainly in her careless toilette the sight of her afforded +consolations to her lover, who made the most of them. + +Sometimes from policy, to keep her hold on a man whose ardent +passion gave her emotions unknown before, sometimes in weakness, +she suffered him to snatch a swift kiss; and immediately, in +feigned terror, she flushed red and exiled Armand from the sofa +so soon as the sofa became dangerous ground. + +"Your joys are sins for me to expiate, Armand; they are paid for +by penitence and remorse," she cried. + +And Montriveau, now at two chairs' distance from that +aristocratic petticoat, betook himself to blasphemy and railed +against Providence. The Duchess grew angry at such times. + +"My friend," she said drily, "I do not understand why you +decline to believe in God, for it is impossible to believe in +man. Hush, do not talk like that. You have too great a nature +to take up their Liberal nonsense with its pretension to abolish +God." + +Theological and political disputes acted like a cold douche on +Montriveau; he calmed down; he could not return to love when the +Duchess stirred up his wrath by suddenly setting him down a +thousand miles away from the boudoir, discussing theories of +absolute monarchy, which she defended to admiration. Few women +venture to be democrats; the attitude of democratic champion is +scarcely compatible with tyrannous feminine sway. But often, on +the other hand, the General shook out his mane, dropped politics +with a leonine growling and lashing of the flanks, and sprang +upon his prey; he was no longer capable of carrying a heart and +brain at such variance for very far; he came back, terrible with +love, to his mistress. And she, if she felt the prick of fancy +stimulated to a dangerous point, knew that it was time to leave +her boudoir; she came out of the atmosphere surcharged with +desires that she drew in with her breath, sat down to the piano, +and sang the most exquisite songs of modern music, and so baffled +the physical attraction which at times showed her no mercy, +though she was strong enough to fight it down. + +At such times she was something sublime in Armand's eyes; she was +not acting, she was genuine; the unhappy lover was convinced that +she loved him. Her egoistic resistance deluded him into a belief +that she was a pure and sainted woman; he resigned himself; he +talked of Platonic love, did this artillery officer! + +When Mme de Langeais had played with religion sufficiently to +suit her own purposes, she played with it again for Armand's +benefit. She wanted to bring him back to a Christian frame of +mind; she brought out her edition of Le Genie du Christianisme, +adapted for the use of military men. Montriveau chafed; his yoke +was heavy. Oh! at that, possessed by the spirit of +contradiction, she dinned religion into his ears, to see whether +God might not rid her of this suitor, for the man's persistence +was beginning to frighten her. And in any case she was glad to +prolong any quarrel, if it bade fair to keep the dispute on moral +grounds for an indefinite period; the material struggle which +followed it was more dangerous. + +But if the time of her opposition on the ground of the marriage +law might be said to be the epoque civile of this sentimental +warfare, the ensuing phase which might be taken to constitute the +epoque religieuse had also its crisis and consequent decline of +severity. + +Armand happening to come in very early one evening, found M. +l'Abbe Gondrand, the Duchess's spiritual director, established in +an armchair by the fireside, looking as a spiritual director +might be expected to look while digesting his dinner and the +charming sins of his penitent. In the ecclesiastic's bearing +there was a stateliness befitting a dignitary of the Church; and +the episcopal violet hue already appeared in his dress. At sight +of his fresh, well-preserved complexion, smooth forehead, and +ascetic's mouth, Montriveau's countenance grew uncommonly dark; +he said not a word under the malicious scrutiny of the other's +gaze, and greeted neither the lady nor the priest. The lover +apart, Montriveau was not wanting in tact; so a few glances +exchanged with the bishop-designate told him that here was the +real forger of the Duchess's armoury of scruples. + +That an ambitious abbe should control the happiness of a man of +Montriveau's temper, and by underhand ways! The thought burst in +a furious tide over his face, clenched his fists, and set him +chafing and pacing to and fro; but when he came back to his place +intending to make a scene, a single look from the Duchess was +enough. He was quiet. + +Any other woman would have been put out by her lover's gloomy +silence; it was quite otherwise with Mme de Langeais. She +continued her conversation with M. de Gondrand on the necessity +of re-establishing the Church in its ancient splendour. And she +talked brilliantly. + +The Church, she maintained, ought to be a temporal as well as a +spiritual power, stating her case better than the Abbe had done, +and regretting that the Chamber of Peers, unlike the English +House of Lords, had no bench of bishops. Nevertheless, the Abbe +rose, yielded his place to the General, and took his leave, +knowing that in Lent he could play a return game. As for the +Duchess, Montriveau's behaviour had excited her curiosity to such +a pitch that she scarcely rose to return her director's low bow. + +"What is the matter with you, my friend?" + +"Why, I cannot stomach that Abbe of yours." + +"Why did you not take a book?" she asked, careless whether the +Abbe, then closing the door, heard her or no. + +The General paused, for the gesture which accompanied the +Duchess's speech further increased the exceeding insolence of her +words. + +"My dear Antoinette, thank you for giving love precedence of the +Church; but, for pity's sake, allow me to ask one question." + +"Oh! you are questioning me! I am quite willing. You are my +friend, are you not? I certainly can open the bottom of my heart +to you; you will see only one image there." + +"Do you talk about our love to that man?" + +"He is my confessor." + +"Does he know that I love you?" + +"M. de Montriveau, you cannot claim, I think, to penetrate the +secrets of the confessional?" + +"Does that man know all about our quarrels and my love for +you?" + +"That man, monsieur; say God!" + +"God again! /I/ ought to be alone in your heart. But leave God +alone where He is, for the love of God and me. Madame, you SHALL +NOT go to confession again, or----" + +"Or?" she repeated sweetly. + +"Or I will never come back here." + +"Then go, Armand. Good-bye, good-bye forever." + +She rose and went to her boudoir without so much as a glance at +Armand, as he stood with his hand on the back of a chair. How +long he stood there motionless he himself never knew. The soul +within has the mysterious power of expanding as of contracting +space. + +He opened the door of the boudoir. It was dark within. A faint +voice was raised to say sharply-- + +"I did not ring. What made you come in without orders? Go +away, Suzette." + +"Then you are ill," exclaimed Montriveau. + +"Stand up, monsieur, and go out of the room for a minute at any +rate," she said, ringing the bell. + +"Mme la Duchesse rang for lights?" said the footman, coming in +with the candles. When the lovers were alone together, Mme de +Langeais still lay on her couch; she was just as silent and +motionless as if Montriveau had not been there. + +"Dear, I was wrong," he began, a note of pain and a sublime +kindness in his voice. "Indeed, I would not have you without +religion----" + +"It is fortunate that you can recognise the necessity of a +conscience," she said in a hard voice, without looking at him. +"I thank you in God's name." + +The General was broken down by her harshness; this woman seemed +as if she could be at will a sister or a stranger to him. He +made one despairing stride towards the door. He would leave her +forever without another word. He was wretched; and the Duchess +was laughing within herself over mental anguish far more cruel +than the old judicial torture. But as for going away, it was not +in his power to do it. In any sort of crisis, a woman is, as it +were, bursting with a certain quantity of things to say; so long +as she has not delivered herself of them, she experiences the +sensation which we are apt to feel at the sight of something +incomplete. Mme de Langeais had not said all that was in her +mind. She took up her parable and said-- + +"We have not the same convictions, General, I am pained to +think. It would be dreadful if a woman could not believe in a +religion which permits us to love beyond the grave. I set +Christian sentiments aside; you cannot understand them. Let me +simply speak to you of expediency. Would you forbid a woman at +court the table of the Lord when it is customary to take the +sacrament at Easter? People must certainly do something for +their party. The Liberals, whatever they may wish to do, will +never destroy the religious instinct. Religion will always be a +political necessity. Would you undertake to govern a nation of +logic-choppers? Napoleon was afraid to try; he persecuted +ideologists. If you want to keep people from reasoning, you must +give them something to feel. So let us accept the Roman Catholic +Church with all its consequences. And if we would have France go +to mass, ought we not to begin by going ourselves? Religion, you +see, Armand, is a bond uniting all the conservative principles +which enable the rich to live in tranquillity. Religion and the +rights of property are intimately connected. It is certainly a +finer thing to lead a nation by ideas of morality than by fear of +the scaffold, as in the time of the Terror--the one method by +which your odious Revolution could enforce obedience. The priest +and the king--that means you, and me, and the Princess my +neighbour; and, in a word, the interests of all honest people +personified. There, my friend, just be so good as to belong to +your party, you that might be its Sylla if you had the slightest +ambition that way. I know nothing about politics myself; I argue +from my own feelings; but still I know enough to guess that +society would be overturned if people were always calling its +foundations in question----" + +"If that is how your Court and your Government think, I am sorry +for you," broke in Montriveau. "The Restoration, madam, ought +to say, like Catherine de Medici, when she heard that the battle +of Dreux was lost, `Very well; now we will go to the +meeting-house.' Now 1815 was your battle of Dreux. Like the +royal power of those days, you won in fact, while you lost in +right. Political Protestantism has gained an ascendancy over +people's minds. If you have no mind to issue your Edict of +Nantes; or if, when it is issued, you publish a Revocation; if +you should one day be accused and convicted of repudiating the +Charter, which is simply a pledge given to maintain the interests +established under the Republic, then the Revolution will rise +again, terrible in her strength, and strike but a single blow. +It will not be the Revolution that will go into exile; she is the +very soil of France. Men die, but people's interests do not die. +. . . Eh, great Heavens! what are France and the crown and +rightful sovereigns, and the whole world besides, to us? Idle +words compared with my happiness. Let them reign or be hurled +from the throne, little do I care. Where am I now?" + +"In the Duchesse de Langeais's boudoir, my friend." + +"No, no. No more of the Duchess, no more of Langeais; I am with +my dear Antoinette." + +"Will you do me the pleasure to stay where you are," she said, +laughing and pushing him back, gently however. + +"So you have never loved me," he retorted, and anger flashed in +lightning from his eyes. + +"No, dear"; but the "No" was equivalent to "Yes." + +"I am a great ass," he said, kissing her hands. The terrible +queen was a woman once more.--"Antoinette," he went on, laying +his head on her feet, "you are too chastely tender to speak of +our happiness to anyone in this world." + +"Oh!" she cried, rising to her feet with a swift, graceful +spring, "you are a great simpleton." And without another word +she fled into the drawing-room. + +"What is it now?" wondered the General, little knowing that the +touch of his burning forehead had sent a swift electric thrill +through her from foot to head. + +In hot wrath he followed her to the drawing-room, only to hear +divinely sweet chords. The Duchess was at the piano. If the man +of science or the poet can at once enjoy and comprehend, bringing +his intelligence to bear upon his enjoyment without loss of +delight, he is conscious that the alphabet and phraseology of +music are but cunning instruments for the composer, like the wood +and copper wire under the hands of the executant. For the poet +and the man of science there is a music existing apart, +underlying the double expression of this language of the spirit +and senses. Andiamo mio ben can draw tears of joy or pitying +laughter at the will of the singer; and not unfrequently one here +and there in the world, some girl unable to live and bear the +heavy burden of an unguessed pain, some man whose soul vibrates +with the throb of passion, may take up a musical theme, and lo! +heaven is opened for them, or they find a language for themselves +in some sublime melody, some song lost to the world. + +The General was listening now to such a song; a mysterious music +unknown to all other ears, as the solitary plaint of some +mateless bird dying alone in a virgin forest. + +"Great Heavens! what are you playing there?" he asked in an +unsteady voice. + +"The prelude of a ballad, called, I believe, Fleuve du Tage." + +"I did not know that there was such music in a piano," he +returned. + +"Ah!" she said, and for the first time she looked at him as a +woman looks at the man she loves, "nor do you know, my friend, +that I love you, and that you cause me horrible suffering; and +that I feel that I must utter my cry of pain without putting it +too plainly into words. If I did not, I should yield----But you +see nothing." + +"And you will not make me happy!" + +"Armand, I should die of sorrow the next day." + +The General turned abruptly from her and went. But out in the +street he brushed away the tears that he would not let fall. + +The religious phase lasted for three months. At the end of that +time the Duchess grew weary of vain repetitions; the Deity, bound +hand and foot, was delivered up to her lover. Possibly she may +have feared that by sheer dint of talking of eternity she might +perpetuate his love in this world and the next. For her own +sake, it must be believed that no man had touched her heart, or +her conduct would be inexcusable. She was young; the time when +men and women feel that they cannot afford to lose time or to +quibble over their joys was still far off. She, no doubt, was on +the verge not of first love, but of her first experience of the +bliss of love. And from inexperience, for want of the painful +lessons which would have taught her to value the treasure poured +out at her feet, she was playing with it. Knowing nothing of the +glory and rapture of the light, she was fain to stay in the +shadow. + +Armand was just beginning to understand this strange situation; +he put his hope in the first word spoken by nature. Every +evening, as he came away from Mme de Langeais's, he told himself +that no woman would accept the tenderest, most delicate proofs of +a man's love during seven months, nor yield passively to the +slighter demands of passion, only to cheat love at the last. He +was waiting patiently for the sun to gain power, not doubting but +that he should receive the earliest fruits. The married woman's +hesitations and the religious scruples he could quite well +understand. He even rejoiced over those battles. He mistook the +Duchess's heartless coquetry for modesty; and he would not have +had her otherwise. So he had loved to see her devising +obstacles; was he not gradually triumphing over them? Did not +every victory won swell the meagre sum of lovers' intimacies long +denied, and at last conceded with every sign of love? Still, he +had had such leisure to taste the full sweetness of every small +successive conquest on which a lover feeds his love, that these +had come to be matters of use and wont. So far as obstacles +went, there were none now save his own awe of her; nothing else +left between him and his desire save the whims of her who allowed +him to call her Antoinette. So he made up his mind to demand +more, to demand all. Embarrassed like a young lover who cannot +dare to believe that his idol can stoop so low, he hesitated for +a long time. He passed through the experience of terrible +reactions within himself. A set purpose was annihilated by a +word, and definite resolves died within him on the threshold. He +despised himself for his weakness, and still his desire remained +unuttered. + +Nevertheless, one evening, after sitting in gloomy melancholy, he +brought out a fierce demand for his illegally legitimate rights. +The Duchess had not to wait for her bond-slave's request to guess +his desire. When was a man's desire a secret? And have not +women an intuitive knowledge of the meaning of certain changes of +countenance? + +"What! you wish to be my friend no longer?" she broke in at the +first words, and a divine red surging like new blood under the +transparent skin, lent brightness to her eyes. "As a reward for +my generosity, you would dishonour me? Just reflect a little. I +myself have thought much over this; and I think always for us +BOTH. There is such a thing as a woman's loyalty, and we can no +more fail in it than you can fail in honour. /I/ cannot blind +myself. If I am yours, how, in any sense, can I be M. de +Langeais's wife? Can you require the sacrifice of my position, +my rank, my whole life in return for a doubtful love that could +not wait patiently for seven months? What! already you would rob +me of my right to dispose of myself? No, no; you must not talk +like this again. No, not another word. I will not, I cannot +listen to you." + +Mme de Langeais raised both hands to her head to push back the +tufted curls from her hot forehead; she seemed very much excited. + +"You come to a weak woman with your purpose definitely planned +out. You say--`For a certain length of time she will talk to me +of her husband, then of God, and then of the inevitable +consequences. But I will use and abuse the ascendancy I shall +gain over her; I will make myself indispensable; all the bonds of +habit, all the misconstructions of outsiders, will make for me; +and at length, when our liaison is taken for granted by all the +world, I shall be this woman's master.'--Now, be frank; these are +your thoughts! Oh! you calculate, and you say that you love. +Shame on you! You are enamoured? Ah! that I well believe! You +wish to possess me, to have me for your mistress, that is all! +Very well then, No! The DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS will not descend so +far. Simple bourgeoises may be the victims of your treachery--I, +never! Nothing gives me assurance of your love. You speak of my +beauty; I may lose every trace of it in six months, like the dear +Princess, my neighbour. You are captivated by my wit, my grace. +Great Heavens! you would soon grow used to them and to the +pleasures of possession. Have not the little concessions that I +was weak enough to make come to be a matter of course in the last +few months? Some day, when ruin comes, you will give me no +reason for the change in you beyond a curt, `I have ceased to +care for you.'--Then, rank and fortune and honour and all that +was the Duchesse de Langeais will be swallowed up in one +disappointed hope. I shall have children to bear witness to my +shame, and----" With an involuntary gesture she interrupted +herself, and continued: "But I am too good-natured to explain +all this to you when you know it better than I. Come! let us +stay as we are. I am only too fortunate in that I can still +break these bonds which you think so strong. Is there anything +so very heroic in coming to the Hotel de Langeais to spend an +evening with a woman whose prattle amuses you?--a woman whom you +take for a plaything? Why, half a dozen young coxcombs come here +just as regularly every afternoon between three and five. They, +too, are very generous, I am to suppose? I make fun of them; +they stand my petulance and insolence pretty quietly, and make me +laugh; but as for you, I give all the treasures of my soul to +you, and you wish to ruin me, you try my patience in endless +ways. Hush, that will do, that will do," she continued, seeing +that he was about to speak, "you have no heart, no soul, no +delicacy. I know what you want to tell me. Very well, +then--yes. I would rather you should take me for a cold, +insensible woman, with no devotion in her composition, no heart +even, than be taken by everybody else for a vulgar person, and be +condemned to your so-called pleasures, of which you would most +certainly tire, and to everlasting punishment for it afterwards. +Your selfish love is not worth so many sacrifices. . . ." + +The words give but a very inadequate idea of the discourse which +the Duchess trilled out with the quick volubility of a +bird-organ. Nor, truly, was there anything to prevent her from +talking on for some time to come, for poor Armand's only reply to +the torrent of flute notes was a silence filled with cruelly +painful thoughts. He was just beginning to see that this woman +was playing with him; he divined instinctively that a devoted +love, a responsive love, does not reason and count the +consequences in this way. Then, as he heard her reproach him +with detestable motives, he felt something like shame as he +remembered that unconsciously he had made those very +calculations. With angelic honesty of purpose, he looked within, +and self-examination found nothing but selfishness in all his +thoughts and motives, in the answers which he framed and could +not utter. He was self-convicted. In his despair he longed to +fling himself from the window. The egoism of it was intolerable. + +What indeed can a man say when a woman will not believe in love? +Let me prove how much I love you.--The /I/ is always there. + +The heroes of the boudoir, in such circumstances, can follow the +example of the primitive logician who preceded the Pyrrhonists +and denied movement. Montriveau was not equal to this feat. +With all his audacity, he lacked this precise kind which never +deserts an adept in the formulas of feminine algebra. If so many +women, and even the best of women, fall a prey to a kind of +expert to whom the vulgar give a grosser name, it is perhaps +because the said experts are great PROVERS, and love, in spite of +its delicious poetry of sentiment, requires a little more +geometry than people are wont to think. + +Now the Duchess and Montriveau were alike in this--they were both +equally unversed in love lore. The lady's knowledge of theory +was but scanty; in practice she knew nothing whatever; she felt +nothing, and reflected over everything. Montriveau had had but +little experience, was absolutely ignorant of theory, and felt +too much to reflect at all. Both therefore were enduring the +consequences of the singular situation. At that supreme moment +the myriad thoughts in his mind might have been reduced to the +formula--"Submit to be mine ----' words which seem horribly +selfish to a woman for whom they awaken no memories, recall no +ideas. Something nevertheless he must say. And what was more, +though her barbed shafts had set his blood tingling, though the +short phrases that she discharged at him one by one were very +keen and sharp and cold, he must control himself lest he should +lose all by an outbreak of anger. + +"Mme la Duchesse, I am in despair that God should have invented +no way for a woman to confirm the gift of her heart save by +adding the gift of her person. The high value which you yourself +put upon the gift teaches me that I cannot attach less importance +to it. If you have given me your inmost self and your whole +heart, as you tell me, what can the rest matter? And besides, if +my happiness means so painful a sacrifice, let us say no more +about it. But you must pardon a man of spirit if he feels +humiliated at being taken for a spaniel." + +The tone in which the last remark was uttered might perhaps have +frightened another woman; but when the wearer of a petticoat has +allowed herself to be addressed as a Divinity, and thereby set +herself above all other mortals, no power on earth can be so +haughty. + +"M. le Marquis, I am in despair that God should not have +invented some nobler way for a man to confirm the gift of his +heart than by the manifestation of prodigiously vulgar desires. +We become bond-slaves when we give ourselves body and soul, but a +man is bound to nothing by accepting the gift. Who will assure +me that love will last? The very love that I might show for you +at every moment, the better to keep your love, might serve you as +a reason for deserting me. I have no wish to be a second edition +of Mme de Beauseant. Who can ever know what it is that keeps you +beside us? Our persistent coldness of heart is the cause of an +unfailing passion in some of you; other men ask for an untiring +devotion, to be idolised at every moment; some for gentleness, +others for tyranny. No woman in this world as yet has really +read the riddle of man's heart." + +There was a pause. When she spoke again it was in a different +tone. + +"After all, my friend, you cannot prevent a woman from trembling +at the question, `Will this love last always?' Hard though my +words may be, the dread of losing you puts them into my mouth. +Oh, me! it is not I who speaks, dear, it is reason; and how +should anyone so mad as I be reasonable? In truth, I am nothing +of the sort." + +The poignant irony of her answer had changed before the end into +the most musical accents in which a woman could find utterance +for ingenuous love. To listen to her words was to pass in a +moment from martyrdom to heaven. Montriveau grew pale; and for +the first time in his life, he fell on his knees before a woman. +He kissed the Duchess's skirt hem, her knees, her feet; but for +the credit of the Faubourg Saint-Germain it is necessary to +respect the mysteries of its boudoirs, where many are fain to +take the utmost that Love can give without giving proof of love +in return. + +The Duchess thought herself generous when she suffered herself to +be adored. But Montriveau was in a wild frenzy of joy over her +complete surrender of the position. + +"Dear Antoinette," he cried. "Yes, you are right; I will not +have you doubt any longer. I too am trembling at this +moment--lest the angel of my life should leave me; I wish I could +invent some tie that might bind us to each other irrevocably." + +"Ah!" she said, under her breath, "so I was right, you see." + +"Let me say all that I have to say; I will scatter all your +fears with a word. Listen! if I deserted you, I should deserve +to die a thousand deaths. Be wholly mine, and I will give you +the right to kill me if I am false. I myself will write a letter +explaining certain reasons for taking my own life; I will make my +final arrangements, in short. You shall have the letter in your +keeping; in the eye of the law it will be a sufficient +explanation of my death. You can avenge yourself, and fear +nothing from God or men." + +"What good would the letter be to me? What would life be if I +had lost your love? If I wished to kill you, should I not be +ready to follow? No; thank you for the thought, but I do not +want the letter. Should I not begin to dread that you were +faithful to me through fear? And if a man knows that he must +risk his life for a stolen pleasure, might it not seem more +tempting? Armand, the thing I ask of you is the one hard thing +to do." + +"Then what is it that you wish?" + +"Your obedience and my liberty." + +"Ah, God!" cried he, "I am a child." + +"A wayward, much spoilt child," she said, stroking the thick +hair, for his head still lay on her knee. "Ah! and loved far +more than he believes, and yet he is very disobedient. Why not +stay as we are? Why not sacrifice to me the desires that hurt +me? Why not take what I can give, when it is all that I can +honestly grant? Are you not happy?" + +"Oh yes, I am happy when I have not a doubt left. Antoinette, +doubt in love is a kind of death, is it not?" + +In a moment he showed himself as he was, as all men are under the +influence of that hot fever; he grew eloquent, insinuating. And +the Duchess tasted the pleasures which she reconciled with her +conscience by some private, Jesuitical ukase of her own; Armand's +love gave her a thrill of cerebral excitement which custom made +as necessary to her as society, or the Opera. To feel that she +was adored by this man, who rose above other men, whose character +frightened her; to treat him like a child; to play with him as +Poppaea played with Nero--many women, like the wives of King +Henry VIII, have paid for such a perilous delight with all the +blood in their veins. Grim presentiment! Even as she +surrendered the delicate, pale, gold curls to his touch, and felt +the close pressure of his hand, the little hand of a man whose +greatness she could not mistake; even as she herself played with +his dark, thick locks, in that boudoir where she reigned a queen, +the Duchess would say to herself-- + +"This man is capable of killing me if he once finds out that I +am playing with him." + +Armand de Montriveau stayed with her till two o'clock in the +morning. From that moment this woman, whom he loved, was neither +a duchess nor a Navarreins; Antoinette, in her disguises, had +gone so far as to appear to be a woman. On that most blissful +evening, the sweetest prelude ever played by a Parisienne to what +the world calls "a slip"; in spite of all her affectations of a +coyness which she did not feel, the General saw all maidenly +beauty in her. He had some excuse for believing that so many +storms of caprice had been but clouds covering a heavenly soul; +that these must be lifted one by one like the veils that hid her +divine loveliness. The Duchess became, for him, the most simple +and girlish mistress; she was the one woman in the world for him; +and he went away quite happy in that at last he had brought her +to give him such pledges of love, that it seemed to him +impossible but that he should be but her husband henceforth in +secret, her choice sanctioned by Heaven. + +Armand went slowly home, turning this thought in his mind with +the impartiality of a man who is conscious of all the +responsibilities that love lays on him while he tastes the +sweetness of its joys. He went along the Quais to see the widest +possible space of sky; his heart had grown in him; he would fain +have had the bounds of the firmament and of earth enlarged. It +seemed to him that his lungs drew an ampler breath. + +In the course of his self-examination, as he walked, he vowed to +love this woman so devoutly, that every day of her life she +should find absolution for her sins against society in unfailing +happiness. Sweet stirrings of life when life is at the full! +The man that is strong enough to steep his soul in the colour of +one emotion, feels infinite joy as glimpses open out for him of +an ardent lifetime that knows no diminution of passion to the +end; even so it is permitted to certain mystics, in ecstasy, to +behold the Light of God. Love would be naught without the belief +that it would last forever; love grows great through constancy. +It was thus that, wholly absorbed by his happiness, Montriveau +understood passion. + +"We belong to each other forever!" + +The thought was like a talisman fulfilling the wishes of his +life. He did not ask whether the Duchess might not change, +whether her love might not last. No, for he had faith. Without +that virtue there is no future for Christianity, and perhaps it +is even more necessary to society. A conception of life as +feeling occurred to him for the first time; hitherto he had lived +by action, the most strenuous exertion of human energies, the +physical devotion, as it may be called, of the soldier. + +Next day M. de Montriveau went early in the direction of the +Faubourg Saint-Germain. He had made an appointment at a house +not far from the Hotel de Langeais; and the business over, he +went thither as if to his own home. The General's companion +chanced to be a man for whom he felt a kind of repulsion whenever +he met him in other houses. This was the Marquis de +Ronquerolles, whose reputation had grown so great in Paris +boudoirs. He was witty, clever, and what was more--courageous; +he set the fashion to all the young men in Paris. As a man of +gallantry, his success and experience were equally matters of +envy; and neither fortune nor birth was wanting in his case, +qualifications which add such lustre in Paris to a reputation as +a leader of fashion. + +"Where are you going?" asked M. de Ronquerolles. + +"To Mme de Langeais's." + +"Ah, true. I forgot that you had allowed her to lime you. You +are wasting your affections on her when they might be much better +employed elsewhere. I could have told you of half a score of +women in the financial world, any one of them a thousand times +better worth your while than that titled courtesan, who does with +her brains what less artificial women do with----" + +"What is this, my dear fellow?" Armand broke in. "The Duchess +is an angel of innocence." + +Ronquerolles began to laugh. + +"Things being thus, dear boy," said he, "it is my duty to +enlighten you. Just a word; there is no harm in it between +ourselves. Has the Duchess surrendered? If so, I have nothing +more to say. Come, give me your confidence. There is no +occasion to waste your time in grafting your great nature on that +unthankful stock, when all your hopes and cultivation will come +to nothing." + +Armand ingenuously made a kind of general report of his position, +enumerating with much minuteness the slender rights so hardly +won. Ronquerolles burst into a peal of laughter so heartless, +that it would have cost any other man his life. But from their +manner of speaking and looking at each other during that colloquy +beneath the wall, in a corner almost as remote from intrusion as +the desert itself, it was easy to imagine the friendship between +the two men knew no bounds, and that no power on earth could +estrange them. + +"My dear Armand, why did you not tell me that the Duchess was a +puzzle to you? I would have given you a little advice which +might have brought your flirtation properly through. You must +know, to begin with, that the women of our Faubourg, like any +other women, love to steep themselves in love; but they have a +mind to possess and not to be possessed. They have made a sort +of compromise with human nature. The code of their parish gives +them a pretty wide latitude short of the last transgression. The +sweets enjoyed by this fair Duchess of yours are so many venial +sins to be washed away in the waters of penitence. But if you +had the impertinence to ask in earnest for the moral sin to which +naturally you are sure to attach the highest importance, you +would see the deep disdain with which the door of the boudoir and +the house would be incontinently shut upon you. The tender +Antoinette would dismiss everything from her memory; you would be +less than a cipher for her. She would wipe away your kisses, my +dear friend, as indifferently as she would perform her ablutions. +She would sponge love from her cheeks as she washes off rouge. +We know women of that sort--the thorough-bred Parisienne. Have +you ever noticed a grisette tripping along the street? Her face +is as good as a picture. A pretty cap, fresh cheeks, trim hair, +a guileful smile, and the rest of her almost neglected. Is not +this true to the life? Well, that is the Parisienne. She knows +that her face is all that will be seen, so she devotes all her +care, finery, and vanity to her head. The Duchess is the same; +the head is everything with her. She can only feel through her +intellect, her heart lies in her brain, she is a sort of +intellectual epicure, she has a head-voice. We call that kind of +poor creature a Lais of the intellect. You have been taken in +like a boy. If you doubt it, you can have proof of it tonight, +this morning, this instant. Go up to her, try the demand as an +experiment, insist peremptorily if it is refused. You might set +about it like the late Marechal de Richelieu, and get nothing for +your pains." + +Armand was dumb with amazement. + +"Has your desire reached the point of infatuation?" + +"I want her at any cost!" Montriveau cried out despairingly. + +"Very well. Now, look here. Be as inexorable as she is +herself. Try to humiliate her, to sting her vanity. Do NOT try +to move her heart, nor her soul, but the woman's nerves and +temperament, for she is both nervous and lymphatic. If you can +once awaken desire in her, you are safe. But you must drop these +romantic boyish notions of yours. If when once you have her in +your eagle's talons you yield a point or draw back, if you so +much as stir an eyelid, if she thinks that she can regain her +ascendancy over you, she will slip out of your clutches like a +fish, and you will never catch her again. Be as inflexible as +law. Show no more charity than the headsman. Hit hard, and then +hit again. Strike and keep on striking as if you were giving her +the knout. Duchesses are made of hard stuff, my dear Armand; +there is a sort of feminine nature that is only softened by +repeated blows; and as suffering develops a heart in women of +that sort, so it is a work of charity not to spare the rod. Do +you persevere. Ah! when pain has thoroughly relaxed those nerves +and softened the fibres that you take to be so pliant and +yielding; when a shrivelled heart has learned to expand and +contract and to beat under this discipline; when the brain has +capitulated--then, perhaps, passion may enter among the steel +springs of this machinery that turns out tears and affectations +and languors and melting phrases; then you shall see a most +magnificent conflagration (always supposing that the chimney +takes fire). The steel feminine system will glow red-hot like +iron in the forge; that kind of heat lasts longer than any other, +and the glow of it may possibly turn to love. + +"Still," he continued, "I have my doubts. And, after all, is +it worth while to take so much trouble with the Duchess? Between +ourselves a man of my stamp ought first to take her in hand and +break her in; I would make a charming woman of her; she is a +thoroughbred; whereas, you two left to yourselves will never get +beyond the A B C. But you are in love with her, and just now you +might not perhaps share my views on this subject----. A pleasant +time to you, my children," added Ronquerolles, after a pause. +Then with a laugh: "I have decided myself for facile beauties; +they are tender, at any rate, the natural woman appears in their +love without any of your social seasonings. A woman that haggles +over herself, my poor boy, and only means to inspire love! Well, +have her like an extra horse--for show. The match between the +sofa and confessional, black and white, queen and knight, +conscientious scruples and pleasure, is an uncommonly amusing +game of chess. And if a man knows the game, let him be never so +little of a rake, he wins in three moves. Now, if I undertook a +woman of that sort, I should start with the deliberate purpose +of----" His voice sank to a whisper over the last words in +Armand's ear, and he went before there was time to reply. + +As for Montriveau, he sprang at a bound across the courtyard of +the Hotel de Langeais, went unannounced up the stairs straight to +the Duchess's bedroom. + +"This is an unheard-of thing," she said, hastily wrapping her +dressing-gown about her. "Armand! this is abominable of you! +Come, leave the room, I beg. Just go out of the room, and go at +once. Wait for me in the drawing-room.--Come now!" + +"Dear angel, has a plighted lover no privilege whatsoever?" + +"But, monsieur, it is in the worst possible taste of a plighted +lover or a wedded husband to break in like this upon his wife." + +He came up to the Duchess, took her in his arms, and held her +tightly to him. + +"Forgive, dear Antoinette; but a host of horrid doubts are +fermenting in my heart." + +"DOUBTS? Fie!--Oh, fie on you!" + +"Doubts all but justified. If you loved me, would you make this +quarrel? Would you not be glad to see me? Would you not have +felt a something stir in your heart? For I, that am not a woman, +feel a thrill in my inmost self at the mere sound of your voice. +Often in a ballroom a longing has come upon me to spring to your +side and put my arms about your neck." + +"Oh! if you have doubts of me so long as I am not ready to +spring to your arms before all the world, I shall be doubted all +my life long, I suppose. Why, Othello was a mere child compared +with you!" + +"Ah!" he cried despairingly, "you have no love for me----" + +"Admit, at any rate, that at this moment you are not lovable." +Then I have still to find favour in your sight?" + +"Oh, I should think so. Come," added she, "with a little +imperious air, go out of the room, leave me. I am not like you; +I wish always to find favour in your eyes." + +Never woman better understood the art of putting charm into +insolence, and does not the charm double the effect? is it not +enough to infuriate the coolest of men? There was a sort of +untrammelled freedom about Mme de Langeais; a something in her +eyes, her voice, her attitude, which is never seen in a woman who +loves when she stands face to face with him at the mere sight of +whom her heart must needs begin to beat. The Marquis de +Ronquerolles's counsels had cured Armand of sheepishness; and +further, there came to his aid that rapid power of intuition +which passion will develop at moments in the least wise among +mortals, while a great man at such a time possesses it to the +full. He guessed the terrible truth revealed by the Duchess's +nonchalance, and his heart swelled with the storm like a lake +rising in flood. + +"If you told me the truth yesterday, be mine, dear Antoinette," +he cried; "you shall----" + +"In the first place," said she composedly, thrusting him back +as he came nearer--"in the first place, you are not to +compromise me. My woman might overhear you. Respect me, I beg +of you. Your familiarity is all very well in my boudoir in an +evening; here it is quite different. Besides, what may your `you +shall' mean? `You shall.' No one as yet has ever used that word +to me. It is quite ridiculous, it seems to me, absolutely +ridiculous. + +"Will you surrender nothing to me on this point?" + +"Oh! do you call a woman's right to dispose of herself a +`point?' A capital point indeed; you will permit me to be +entirely my own mistress on that `point.'" + +"And how if, believing in your promises to me, I should +absolutely require it?" + +"Oh! then you would prove that I made the greatest possible +mistake when I made you a promise of any kind; and I should beg +you to leave me in peace." + +The General's face grew white; he was about to spring to her +side, when Mme de Langeais rang the bell, the maid appeared, and, +smiling with a mocking grace, the Duchess added, "Be so good as +to return when I am visible." + +Then Montriveau felt the hardness of a woman as cold and keen as +a steel blade; she was crushing in her scorn. In one moment she +had snapped the bonds which held firm only for her lover. She +had read Armand's intention in his face, and held that the moment +had come for teaching the Imperial soldier his lesson. He was to +be made to feel that though duchesses may lend themselves to +love, they do not give themselves, and that the conquest of one +of them would prove a harder matter than the conquest of Europe. + +"Madame," returned Armand, "I have not time to wait. I am a +spoilt child, as you told me yourself. When I seriously resolve +to have that of which we have been speaking, I shall have it." + +"You will have it?" queried she, and there was a trace of +surprise in her loftiness. + +"I shall have it." + +"Oh! you would do me a great pleasure by `resolving' to have it. +For curiosity's sake, I should be delighted to know how you would +set about it----" + +"I am delighted to put a new interest into your life," +interrupted Montriveau, breaking into a laugh which dismayed the +Duchess. "Will you permit me to take you to the ball tonight?" + +"A thousand thanks. M. de Marsay has been beforehand with you. +I gave him my promise." + +Montriveau bowed gravely and went. + +"So Ronquerolles was right," thought he, "and now for a game +of chess." + +Thenceforward he hid his agitation by complete composure. No man +is strong enough to bear such sudden alternations from the height +of happiness to the depths of wretchedness. So he had caught a +glimpse of happy life the better to feel the emptiness of his +previous existence? There was a terrible storm within him; but +he had learned to endure, and bore the shock of tumultuous +thoughts as a granite cliff stands out against the surge of an +angry sea. + +"I could say nothing. When I am with her my wits desert me. +She does not know how vile and contemptible she is. Nobody has +ventured to bring her face to face with herself. She has played +with many a man, no doubt; I will avenge them all." + +For the first time, it may be, in a man's heart, revenge and love +were blended so equally that Montriveau himself could not know +whether love or revenge would carry all before it. That very +evening he went to the ball at which he was sure of seeing the +Duchesse de Langeais, and almost despaired of reaching her heart. + +He inclined to think that there was something diabolical about +this woman, who was gracious to him and radiant with charming +smiles; probably because she had no wish to allow the world to +think that she had compromised herself with M. de Montriveau. +Coolness on both sides is a sign of love; but so long as the +Duchess was the same as ever, while the Marquis looked sullen and +morose, was it not plain that she had conceded nothing? +Onlookers know the rejected lover by various signs and tokens; +they never mistake the genuine symptoms for a coolness such as +some women command their adorers to feign, in the hope of +concealing their love. Everyone laughed at Montriveau; and he, +having omitted to consult his cornac, was abstracted and ill at +ease. M. de Ronquerolles would very likely have bidden him +compromise the Duchess by responding to her show of friendliness +by passionate demonstrations; but as it was, Armand de Montriveau +came away from the ball, loathing human nature, and even then +scarcely ready to believe in such complete depravity. + +"If there is no executioner for such crimes," he said, as he +looked up at the lighted windows of the ballroom where the most +enchanting women in Paris were dancing, laughing, and chatting, +"I will take you by the nape of the neck, Mme la Duchesse, and +make you feel something that bites more deeply than the knife in +the Place de la Greve. Steel against steel; we shall see which +heart will leave the deeper mark." + +For a week or so Mme de Langeais hoped to see the Marquis de +Montriveau again; but he contented himself with sending his card +every morning to the Hotel de Langeais. The Duchess could not +help shuddering each time that the card was brought in, and a dim +foreboding crossed her mind, but the thought was vague as a +presentiment of disaster. When her eyes fell on the name, it +seemed to her that she felt the touch of the implacable man's +strong hand in her hair; sometimes the words seemed like a +prognostication of a vengeance which her lively intellect +invented in the most shocking forms. She had studied him too +well not to dread him. Would he murder her, she wondered? Would +that bull-necked man dash out her vitals by flinging her over his +head? Would he trample her body under his feet? When, where, +and how would he get her into his power? Would he make her +suffer very much, and what kind of pain would he inflict? She +repented of her conduct. There were hours when, if he had come, +she would have gone to his arms in complete self-surrender. + +Every night before she slept she saw Montriveau's face; every +night it wore a different aspect. Sometimes she saw his bitter +smile, sometimes the Jovelike knitting of the brows; or his +leonine look, or some disdainful movement of the shoulders made +him terrible for her. Next day the card seemed stained with +blood. The name of Montriveau stirred her now as the presence of +the fiery, stubborn, exacting lover had never done. Her +apprehensions gathered strength in the silence. She was forced, +without aid from without, to face the thought of a hideous duel +of which she could not speak. Her proud hard nature was more +responsive to thrills of hate than it had ever been to the +caresses of love. Ah! if the General could but have seen her, as +she sat with her forehead drawn into folds between her brows; +immersed in bitter thoughts in that boudoir where he had enjoyed +such happy moments, he might perhaps have conceived high hopes. +Of all human passions, is not pride alone incapable of +engendering anything base? Mme de Langeais kept her thoughts to +herself, but is it not permissible to suppose that M. de +Montriveau was no longer indifferent to her? And has not a man +gained ground immensely when a woman thinks about him? He is +bound to make progress with her either one way or the other +afterwards. + +Put any feminine creature under the feet of a furious horse or +other fearsome beast; she will certainly drop on her knees and +look for death; but if the brute shows a milder mood and does not +utterly slay her, she will love the horse, lion, bull, or what +not, and will speak of him quite at her ease. The Duchess felt +that she was under the lion's paws; she quaked, but she did not +hate him. + +The man and woman thus singularly placed with regard to each +other met three times in society during the course of that week. +Each time, in reply to coquettish questioning glances, the +Duchess received a respectful bow, and smiles tinged with such +savage irony, that all her apprehensions over the card in the +morning were revived at night. Our lives are simply such as our +feelings shape them for us; and the feelings of these two had +hollowed out a great gulf between them. + +The Comtesse de Serizy, the Marquis de Ronquerolles's sister, +gave a great ball at the beginning of the following week, and Mme +de Langeais was sure to go to it. Armand was the first person +whom the Duchess saw when she came into the room, and this time +Armand was looking out for her, or so she thought at least. The +two exchanged a look, and suddenly the woman felt a cold +perspiration break from every pore. She had thought all along +that Montriveau was capable of taking reprisals in some +unheard-of way proportioned to their condition, and now the +revenge had been discovered, it was ready, heated, and boiling. +Lightnings flashed from the foiled lover's eyes, his face was +radiant with exultant vengeance. And the Duchess? Her eyes were +haggard in spite of her resolution to be cool and insolent. She +went to take her place beside the Comtesse de Serizy, who could +not help exclaiming, "Dear Antoinette! what is the matter with +you? You are enough to frighten one." + +"I shall be all right after a quadrille," she answered, giving +a hand to a young man who came up at that moment. + +Mme de Langeais waltzed that evening with a sort of excitement +and transport which redoubled Montriveau's lowering looks. He +stood in front of the line of spectators, who were amusing +themselves by looking on. Every time that SHE came past him, his +eyes darted down upon her eddying face; he might have been a +tiger with the prey in his grasp. The waltz came to an end, Mme +de Langeais went back to her place beside the Countess, and +Montriveau never took his eyes off her, talking all the while +with a stranger. + +"One of the things that struck me most on the journey," he was +saying (and the Duchess listened with all her ears), "was the +remark which the man makes at Westminster when you are shown the +axe with which a man in a mask cut off Charles the First's head, +so they tell you. The King made it first of all to some +inquisitive person, and they repeat it still in memory of him." + +"What does the man say?" asked Mme de Serizy. + +"Do not touch the axe!'" replied Montriveau, and there was +menace in the sound of his voice. + +"Really, my Lord Marquis," said Mme de Langeais, "you tell +this old story that everybody knows if they have been to London, +and look at my neck in such a melodramatic way that you seem to +me to have an axe in your hand." + +The Duchess was in a cold sweat, but nevertheless she laughed as +she spoke the last words. + +"But circumstances give the story a quite new application," +returned he. + +"How so; pray tell me, for pity's sake?" + +"In this way, madame--you have touched the axe," said +Montriveau, lowering his voice. + +"What an enchanting prophecy!" returned she, smiling with +assumed grace. "And when is my head to fall?" + +"I have no wish to see that pretty head of yours cut off. I +only fear some great misfortune for you. If your head were +clipped close, would you feel no regrets for the dainty golden +hair that you turn to such good account?" + +"There are those for whom a woman would love to make such a +sacrifice; even if, as often happens, it is for the sake of a man +who cannot make allowances for an outbreak of temper." + +"Quite so. Well, and if some wag were to spoil your beauty on a +sudden by some chemical process, and you, who are but eighteen +for us, were to be a hundred years old?" + +"Why, the smallpox is our Battle of Waterloo, monsieur," she +interrupted. "After it is over we find out those who love us +sincerely." + +"Would you not regret the lovely face that?" + +"Oh! indeed I should, but less for my own sake than for the sake +of someone else whose delight it might have been. And, after +all, if I were loved, always loved, and truly loved, what would +my beauty matter to me?--What do you say, Clara?" + +"It is a dangerous speculation," replied Mme de Serizy. + +"Is it permissible to ask His Majesty the King of Sorcerers when +I made the mistake of touching the axe, since I have not been to +London as yet?----" + +"NOT SO," he answered in English, with a burst of ironical +laughter. + +"And when will the punishment begin?" + +At this Montriveau coolly took out his watch, and ascertained the +hour with a truly appalling air of conviction. + +"A dreadful misfortune will befall you before this day is out." + +"I am not a child to be easily frightened, or rather, I am a +child ignorant of danger," said the Duchess. "I shall dance +now without fear on the edge of the precipice." + +"I am delighted to know that you have so much strength of +character," he answered, as he watched her go to take her place +in a square dance. + +But the Duchess, in spite of her apparent contempt for Armand's +dark prophecies, was really frightened. Her late lover's +presence weighed upon her morally and physically with a sense of +oppression that scarcely ceased when he left the ballroom. And +yet when she had drawn freer breath, and enjoyed the relief for a +moment, she found herself regretting the sensation of dread, so +greedy of extreme sensations is the feminine nature. The regret +was not love, but it was certainly akin to other feelings which +prepare the way for love. And then--as if the impression which +Montriveau had made upon her were suddenly revived--she +recollected his air of conviction as he took out his watch, and +in a sudden spasm of dread she went out. + +By this time it was about midnight. One of her servants, waiting +with her pelisse, went down to order her carriage. On her way +home she fell naturally enough to musing over M. de Montriveau's +prediction. Arrived in her own courtyard, as she supposed, she +entered a vestibule almost like that of her own hotel, and +suddenly saw that the staircase was different. She was in a +strange house. Turning to call her servants, she was attacked by +several men, who rapidly flung a handkerchief over her mouth, +bound her hand and foot, and carried her off. She shrieked +aloud. + +"Madame, our orders are to kill you if you scream," a voice +said in her ear. + +So great was the Duchess's terror, that she could never recollect +how nor by whom she was transported. When she came to herself, +she was lying on a couch in a bachelor's lodging, her hands and +feet tied with silken cords. In spite of herself, she shrieked +aloud as she looked round and met Armand de Montriveau's eyes. +He was sitting in his dressing-gown, quietly smoking a cigar in +his armchair. + +"Do not cry out, Mme la Duchesse," he said, coolly taking the +cigar out of his mouth; "I have a headache. Besides, I will +untie you. But listen attentively to what I have the honour to +say to you." + +Very carefully he untied the knots that bound her feet. + +"What would be the use of calling out? Nobody can hear your +cries. You are too well bred to make any unnecessary fuss. If +you do not stay quietly, if you insist upon a struggle with me, I +shall tie your hands and feet again. All things considered, I +think that you have self-respect enough to stay on this sofa as +if you were lying on your own at home; cold as ever, if you will. +You have made me shed many tears on this couch, tears that I hid +from all other eyes." + +While Montriveau was speaking, the Duchess glanced about her; it +was a woman's glance, a stolen look that saw all things and +seemed to see nothing. She was much pleased with the room. It +was rather like a monk's cell. The man's character and thoughts +seemed to pervade it. No decoration of any kind broke the grey +painted surface of the walls. A green carpet covered the floor. +A black sofa, a table littered with papers, two big easy-chairs, +a chest of drawers with an alarum clock by way of ornament, a +very low bedstead with a coverlet flung over it--a red cloth with +a black key border--all these things made part of a whole that +told of a life reduced to its simplest terms. A triple +candle-sconce of Egyptian design on the chimney-piece recalled +the vast spaces of the desert and Montriveau's long wanderings; a +huge sphinx-claw stood out beneath the folds of stuff at the +bed-foot; and just beyond, a green curtain with a black and +scarlet border was suspended by large rings from a spear handle +above a door near one corner of the room. The other door by +which the band had entered was likewise curtained, but the +drapery hung from an ordinary curtain-rod. As the Duchess +finally noted that the pattern was the same on both, she saw that +the door at the bed-foot stood open; gleams of ruddy light from +the room beyond flickered below the fringed border. Naturally, +the ominous light roused her curiosity; she fancied she could +distinguish strange shapes in the shadows; but as it did not +occur to her at the time that danger could come from that +quarter, she tried to gratify a more ardent curiosity. + +"Monsieur, if it is not indiscreet, may I ask what you mean to +do with me?" The insolence and irony of the tone stung through +the words. The Duchess quite believed that she read extravagant +love in Montriveau's speech. He had carried her off; was not +that in itself an acknowledgment of her power? + +"Nothing whatever, madame," he returned, gracefully puffing the +last whiff of cigar smoke. "You will remain here for a short +time. First of all, I should like to explain to you what you +are, and what I am. I cannot put my thoughts into words whilst +you are twisting on the sofa in your boudoir; and besides, in +your own house you take offence at the slightest hint, you ring +the bell, make an outcry, and turn your lover out at the door as +if he were the basest of wretches. Here my mind is unfettered. +Here nobody can turn me out. Here you shall be my victim for a +few seconds, and you are going to be so exceedingly kind as to +listen to me. You need fear nothing. I did not carry you off to +insult you, nor yet to take by force what you refused to grant of +your own will to my unworthiness. I could not stoop so low. You +possibly think of outrage; for myself, I have no such thoughts." + +He flung his cigar coolly into the fire. + +"The smoke is unpleasant to you, no doubt, madame?" he said, +and rising at once, he took a chafing-dish from the hearth, burnt +perfumes, and purified the air. The Duchess's astonishment was +only equalled by her humiliation. She was in this man's power; +and he would not abuse his power. The eyes in which love had +once blazed like flame were now quiet and steady as stars. She +trembled. Her dread of Armand was increased by a nightmare +sensation of restlessness and utter inability to move; she felt +as if she were turned to stone. She lay passive in the grip of +fear. She thought she saw the light behind the curtains grow to +a blaze, as if blown up by a pair of bellows; in another moment +the gleams of flame grew brighter, and she fancied that three +masked figures suddenly flashed out; but the terrible vision +disappeared so swiftly that she took it for an optical delusion. + +"Madame," Armand continued with cold contempt, "one minute, +just one minute is enough for me, and you shall feel it +afterwards at every moment throughout your lifetime, the one +eternity over which I have power. I am not God. Listen +carefully to me," he continued, pausing to add solemnity to his +words. "Love will always come at your call. You have boundless +power over men: but remember that once you called love, and love +came to you; love as pure and true-hearted as may be on earth, +and as reverent as it was passionate; fond as a devoted woman's, +as a mother's love; a love so great indeed, that it was past the +bounds of reason. You played with it, and you committed a crime. +Every woman has a right to refuse herself to love which she feels +she cannot share; and if a man loves and cannot win love in +return, he is not to be pitied, he has no right to complain. But +with a semblance of love to attract an unfortunate creature cut +off from all affection; to teach him to understand happiness to +the full, only to snatch it from him; to rob him of his future of +felicity; to slay his happiness not merely today, but as long as +his life lasts, by poisoning every hour of it and every +thought--this I call a fearful crime!" + +"Monsieur----" + +"I cannot allow you to answer me yet. So listen to me still. +In any case I have rights over you; but I only choose to exercise +one--the right of the judge over the criminal, so that I may +arouse your conscience. If you had no conscience left, I should +not reproach you at all; but you are so young! You must feel +some life still in your heart; or so I like to believe. While I +think of you as depraved enough to do a wrong which the law does +not punish, I do not think you so degraded that you cannot +comprehend the full meaning of my words. I resume." + +As he spoke the Duchess heard the smothered sound of a pair of +bellows. Those mysterious figures which she had just seen were +blowing up the fire, no doubt; the glow shone through the +curtain. But Montriveau's lurid face was turned upon her; she +could not choose but wait with a fast-beating heart and eyes +fixed in a stare. However curious she felt, the heat in Armand's +words interested her even more than the crackling of the +mysterious flames. + +"Madame," he went on after a pause, "if some poor wretch +commits a murder in Paris, it is the executioner's duty, you +know, to lay hands on him and stretch him on the plank, where +murderers pay for their crimes with their heads. Then the +newspapers inform everyone, rich and poor, so that the former are +assured that they may sleep in peace, and the latter are warned +that they must be on the watch if they would live. Well, you +that are religious, and even a little of a bigot, may have masses +said for such a man's soul. You both belong to the same family, +but yours is the elder branch; and the elder branch may occupy +high places in peace and live happily and without cares. Want or +anger may drive your brother the convict to take a man's life; +you have taken more, you have taken the joy out of a man's life, +you have killed all that was best in his life--his dearest +beliefs. The murderer simply lay in wait for his victim, and +killed him reluctantly, and in fear of the scaffold; but +YOU . . . ! You heaped up every sin that weakness can commit against +strength that suspected no evil; you tamed a passive victim, the +better to gnaw his heart out; you lured him with caresses; you +left nothing undone that could set him dreaming, imagining, +longing for the bliss of love. You asked innumerable sacrifices +of him, only to refuse to make any in return. He should see the +light indeed before you put out his eyes! It is wonderful how +you found the heart to do it! Such villainies demand a display +of resource quite above the comprehension of those bourgeoises +whom you laugh at and despise. They can give and forgive; they +know how to love and suffer. The grandeur of their devotion +dwarfs us. Rising higher in the social scale, one finds just as +much mud as at the lower end; but with this difference, at the +upper end it is hard and gilded over. + +"Yes, to find baseness in perfection, you must look for a noble +bringing up, a great name, a fair woman, a duchess. You cannot +fall lower than the lowest unless you are set high above the rest +of the world.--I express my thoughts badly; the wounds you dealt +me are too painful as yet, but do not think that I complain. My +words are not the expression of any hope for myself; there is no +trace of bitterness in them. Know this, madame, for a +certainty--I forgive you. My forgiveness is so complete that you +need not feel in the least sorry that you came hither to find it +against your will. . . . But you might take advantage of other +hearts as child-like as my own, and it is my duty to spare them +anguish. So you have inspired the thought of justice. Expiate +your sin here on earth; God may perhaps forgive you; I wish that +He may, but He is inexorable, and will strike." + +The broken-spirited, broken-hearted woman looked up, her eyes +filled with tears. + +"Why do you cry? Be true to your nature. You could look on +indifferently at the torture of a heart as you broke it. That +will do, madame, do not cry. I cannot bear it any longer. Other +men will tell you that you have given them life; as for myself, I +tell you, with rapture, that you have given me blank extinction. +Perhaps you guess that I am not my own, that I am bound to live +for my friends, that from this time forth I must endure the cold +chill of death, as well as the burden of life? Is it possible +that there can be so much kindness in you? Are you like the +desert tigress that licks the wounds she has inflicted?" + +The Duchess burst out sobbing. + +"Pray spare your tears, madame. If I believed in them at all, +it would merely set me on my guard. Is this another of your +artifices? or is it not? You have used so many with me; how can +one think that there is any truth in you? Nothing that you do or +say has any power now to move me. That is all I have to say." + +Mme de Langeais rose to her feet, with a great dignity and +humility in her bearing. + +"You are right to treat me very hardly," she said, holding out +a hand to the man who did not take it; "you have not spoken +hardly enough; and I deserve this punishment." + +"/I/ punish you, madame! A man must love still, to punish, must +he not? From me you must expect no feeling, nothing resembling +it. If I chose, I might be accuser and judge in my cause, and +pronounce and carry out the sentence. But I am about to fulfil a +duty, not a desire of vengeance of any kind. The cruellest +revenge of all, I think, is scorn of revenge when it is in our +power to take it. Perhaps I shall be the minister of your +pleasures; who knows? Perhaps from this time forth, as you +gracefully wear the tokens of disgrace by which society marks out +the criminal, you may perforce learn something of the convict's +sense of honour. And then, you will love!" + +The Duchess sat listening; her meekness was unfeigned; it was no +coquettish device. When she spoke at last, it was after a +silence. + +"Armand," she began, "it seems to me that when I resisted +love, I was obeying all the instincts of woman's modesty; I +should not have looked for such reproaches from YOU. I was weak; +you have turned all my weaknesses against me, and made so many +crimes of them. How could you fail to understand that the +curiosity of love might have carried me further than I ought to +go; and that next morning I might be angry with myself, and +wretched because I had gone too far? Alas! I sinned in +ignorance. I was as sincere in my wrongdoing, I swear to you, as +in my remorse. There was far more love for you in my severity +than in my concessions. And besides, of what do you complain? I +gave you my heart; that was not enough; you demanded, brutally, +that I should give my person----" + +"Brutally?" repeated Montriveau. But to himself he said, "If +I once allow her to dispute over words, I am lost." + +"Yes. You came to me as if I were one of those women. You +showed none of the respect, none of the attentions of love. Had +I not reason to reflect? Very well, I reflected. The +unseemliness of your conduct is not inexcusable; love lay at the +source of it; let me think so, and justify you to myself.--Well, +Armand, this evening, even while you were prophesying evil, I +felt convinced that there was happiness in store for us both. +Yes, I put my faith in the noble, proud nature so often tested +and proved." She bent lower. "And I was yours wholly," she +murmured in his ear. "I felt a longing that I cannot express to +give happiness to a man so violently tried by adversity. If I +must have a master, my master should be a great man. As I felt +conscious of my height, the less I cared to descend. I felt I +could trust you, I saw a whole lifetime of love, while you were +pointing to death. . . . Strength and kindness always go +together. My friend, you are so strong, you will not be unkind +to a helpless woman who loves you. If I was wrong, is there no +way of obtaining forgiveness? No way of making reparation? +Repentance is the charm of love; I should like to be very +charming for you. How could I, alone among women, fail to know a +woman's doubts and fears, the timidity that it is so natural to +feel when you bind yourself for life, and know how easily a man +snaps such ties? The bourgeoises, with whom you compared me just +now, give themselves, but they struggle first. Very well--I +struggled; but here I am!--Ah! God, he does not hear me!" she +broke off, and wringing her hands, she cried out "But I love +you! I am yours!" and fell at Armand's feet. + +"Yours! yours! my one and only master!" + +Armand tried to raise her. + +"Madame, it is too late! Antoinette cannot save the Duchesse de +Langeais. I cannot believe in either. Today you may give +yourself; tomorrow, you may refuse. No power in earth or heaven +can insure me the sweet constancy of love. All love's pledges +lay in the past; and now nothing of that past exists." + +The light behind the curtain blazed up so brightly, that the +Duchess could not help turning her head; this time she distinctly +saw the three masked figures. + +"Armand," she said, "I would not wish to think ill of you. +Why are those men there? What are you going to do to me?" + +"Those men will be as silent as I myself with regard to the +thing which is about to be done. Think of them simply as my +hands and my heart. One of them is a surgeon----" + +"A surgeon! Armand, my friend, of all things, suspense is the +hardest to bear. Just speak; tell me if you wish for my life; I +will give it to you, you shall not take it----" + +"Then you did not understand me? Did I not speak just now of +justice? To put an end to your misapprehensions," continued he, +taking up a small steel object from the table, "I will now +explain what I have decided with regard to you." + +He held out a Lorraine cross, fastened to the tip of a steel rod. + +"Two of my friends at this very moment are heating another +cross, made on this pattern, red-hot. We are going to stamp it +upon your forehead, here between the eyes, so that there will be +no possibility of hiding the mark with diamonds, and so avoiding +people's questions. In short, you shall bear on your forehead +the brand of infamy which your brothers the convicts wear on +their shoulders. The pain is a mere trifle, but I feared a +nervous crisis of some kind, of resistance----" + +"Resistance?" she cried, clapping her hands for joy. "Oh no, +no! I would have the whole world here to see. Ah, my Armand, +brand her quickly, this creature of yours; brand her with your +mark as a poor little trifle belonging to you. You asked for +pledges of my love; here they are all in one. Ah! for me there +is nothing but mercy and forgiveness and eternal happiness in +this revenge of yours. When you have marked this woman with your +mark, when you set your crimson brand on her, your slave in soul, +you can never afterwards abandon her, you will be mine for +evermore? When you cut me off from my kind, you make yourself +responsible for my happiness, or you prove yourself base; and I +know that you are noble and great! Why, when a woman loves, the +brand of love is burnt into her soul by her own will.--Come in, +gentlemen! come in and brand her, this Duchesse de Langeais. She +is M. de Montriveau's forever! Ah! come quickly, all of you, my +forehead burns hotter than your fire!" + +Armand turned his head sharply away lest he should see the +Duchess kneeling, quivering with the throbbings of her heart. He +said some word, and his three friends vanished. + +The women of Paris salons know how one mirror reflects another. +The Duchess, with every motive for reading the depths of Armand's +heart, was all eyes; and Armand, all unsuspicious of the mirror, +brushed away two tears as they fell. Her whole future lay in +those two tears. When he turned round again to help her to rise, +she was standing before him, sure of love. Her pulses must have +throbbed fast when he spoke with the firmness she had known so +well how to use of old while she played with him. + +"I spare you, madame. All that has taken place shall be as if +it had never been, you may believe me. But now, let us bid each +other goodbye. I like to think that you were sincere in your +coquetries on your sofa, sincere again in this outpouring of your +heart. Good-bye. I feel that there is no faith in you left in +me. You would torment me again; you would always be the Duchess, +and---- But there, good-bye, we shall never understand each +other. + +"Now, what do you wish?" he continued, taking the tone of a +master of the ceremonies--"to return home, or to go back to Mme +de Serizy's ball? I have done all in my power to prevent any +scandal. Neither your servants nor anyone else can possibly know +what has passed between us in the last quarter of an hour. Your +servants have no idea that you have left the ballroom; your +carriage never left Mme de Serizy's courtyard; your brougham may +likewise be found in the court of your own hotel. Where do you +wish to be?" + +"What do you counsel, Armand?" + +"There is no Armand now, Mme la Duchesse. We are strangers to +each other." + +"Then take me to the ball," she said, still curious to put +Armand's power to the test. "Thrust a soul that suffered in the +world, and must always suffer there, if there is no happiness for +her now, down into hell again. And yet, oh my friend, I love you +as your bourgeoises love; I love you so that I could come to you +and fling my arms about your neck before all the world if you +asked it off me. The hateful world has not corrupted me. I am +young at least, and I have grown younger still. I am a child, +yes, your child, your new creature. Ah! do not drive me forth +out of my Eden!" + +Armand shook his head. + +"Ah! let me take something with me, if I go, some little thing +to wear tonight on my heart," she said, taking possession of +Armand's glove, which she twisted into her handkerchief. + +"No, I am NOT like all those depraved women. You do not know +the world, and so you cannot know my worth. You shall know it +now! There are women who sell themselves for money; there are +others to be gained by gifts, it is a vile world! Oh, I wish I +were a simple bourgeoise, a working girl, if you would rather +have a woman beneath you than a woman whose devotion is +accompanied by high rank, as men count it. Oh, my Armand, there +are noble, high, and chaste and pure natures among us; and then +they are lovely indeed. I would have all nobleness that I might +offer it all up to you. Misfortune willed that I should be a +duchess; I would I were a royal princess, that my offering might +be complete. I would be a grisette for you, and a queen for +everyone besides." + +He listened, damping his cigars with his lips. + +"You will let me know when you wish to go," he said. + +"But I should like to stay----" + +"That is another matter!" + +"Stay, that was badly rolled," she cried, seizing on a cigar +and devouring all that Armand's lips had touched. + +"Do you smoke?" + +"Oh, what would I not do to please you?" + +"Very well. Go, madame." + +"I will obey you," she answered, with tears in her eyes. + +"You must be blindfolded; you must not see a glimpse of the +way." + +"I am ready, Armand," she said, bandaging her eyes. + +"Can you see?" + +"No." + +Noiselessly he knelt before her. + +"Ah! I can hear you!" she cried, with a little fond gesture, +thinking that the pretence of harshness was over. + +He made as if he would kiss her lips; she held up her face. + +"You can see, madame." + +"I am just a little bit curious." + +"So you always deceive me?" + +"Ah! take off this handkerchief, sir," she cried out, with the +passion of a great generosity repelled with scorn, "lead me; I +will not open my eyes." + +Armand felt sure of her after that cry. He led the way; the +Duchess nobly true to her word, was blind. But while Montriveau +held her hand as a father might, and led her up and down flights +of stairs, he was studying the throbbing pulses of this woman's +heart so suddenly invaded by Love. Mme de Langeais, rejoicing in +this power of speech, was glad to let him know all; but he was +inflexible; his hand was passive in reply to the questionings of +her hand. + +At length, after some journey made together, Armand bade her go +forward; the opening was doubtless narrow, for as she went she +felt that his hand protected her dress. His care touched her; it +was a revelation surely that there was a little love still left; +yet it was in some sort a farewell, for Montriveau left her +without a word. The air was warm; the Duchess, feeling the heat, +opened her eyes, and found herself standing by the fire in the +Comtesse de Serizy's boudoir. + +She was alone. Her first thought was for her disordered +toilette; in a moment she had adjusted her dress and restored her +picturesque coiffure. + +"Well, dear Antoinette, we have been looking for you +everywhere." It was the Comtesse de Serizy who spoke as she +opened the door. + +"I came here to breathe," said the Duchess; "it is unbearably +hot in the rooms." + +"People thought that you had gone; but my brother Ronquerolles +told me that your servants were waiting for you." + +"I am tired out, dear, let me stay and rest here for a minute," +and the Duchess sat down on the sofa. + +"Why, what is the matter with you? You are shaking from head to +foot!" + +The Marquis de Ronquerolles came in. + +"Mme la Duchesse, I was afraid that something might have +happened. I have just come across your coachman, the man is as +tipsy as all the Swiss in Switzerland." + +The Duchess made no answer; she was looking round the room, at +the chimney-piece and the tall mirrors, seeking the trace of an +opening. Then with an extraordinary sensation she recollected +that she was again in the midst of the gaiety of the ballroom +after that terrific scene which had changed the whole course of +her life. She began to shiver violently. + +"M. de Montriveau's prophecy has shaken my nerves," she said. +"It was a joke, but still I will see whether his axe from London +will haunt me even in my sleep. So good-bye, dear.--Good-bye, M. +le Marquis." + +As she went through the rooms she was beset with enquiries and +regrets. Her world seemed to have dwindled now that she, its +queen, had fallen so low, was so diminished. And what, moreover, +were these men compared with him whom she loved with all her +heart; with the man grown great by all that she had lost in +stature? The giant had regained the height that he had lost for +a while, and she exaggerated it perhaps beyond measure. She +looked, in spite of herself, at the servant who had attended her +to the ball. He was fast asleep. + +"Have you been here all the time?" she asked. + +"Yes, madame." + +As she took her seat in her carriage she saw, in fact, that her +coachman was drunk--so drunk, that at any other time she would +have been afraid; but after a great crisis in life, fear loses +its appetite for common food. She reached home, at any rate, +without accident; but even there she felt a change in herself, a +new feeling that she could not shake off. For her, there was now +but one man in the world; which is to say that henceforth she +cared to shine for his sake alone. + +While the physiologist can define love promptly by following out +natural laws, the moralist finds a far more perplexing problem +before him if he attempts to consider love in all its +developments due to social conditions. Still, in spite of the +heresies of the endless sects that divide the church of Love, +there is one broad and trenchant line of difference in doctrine, +a line that all the discussion in the world can never deflect. A +rigid application of this line explains the nature of the crisis +through which the Duchess, like most women, was to pass. Passion +she knew, but she did not love as yet. + +Love and passion are two different conditions which poets and men +of the world, philosophers and fools, alike continually confound. + +Love implies a give and take, a certainty of bliss that nothing +can change; it means so close a clinging of the heart, and an +exchange of happiness so constant, that there is no room left for +jealousy. Then possession is a means and not an end; +unfaithfulness may give pain, but the bond is not less close; the +soul is neither more nor less ardent or troubled, but happy at +every moment; in short, the divine breath of desire spreading +from end to end of the immensity of Time steeps it all for us in +the selfsame hue; life takes the tint of the unclouded heaven. +But Passion is the foreshadowing of Love, and of that Infinite to +which all suffering souls aspire. Passion is a hope that may be +cheated. Passion means both suffering and transition. Passion +dies out when hope is dead. Men and women may pass through this +experience many times without dishonour, for it is so natural to +spring towards happiness; but there is only one love in a +lifetime. All discussions of sentiment ever conducted on paper +or by word of mouth may therefore be resumed by two +questions--"Is it passion? Is it love?" So, since love comes +into existence only through the intimate experience of the bliss +which gives it lasting life, the Duchess was beneath the yoke of +passion as yet; and as she knew the fierce tumult, the +unconscious calculations, the fevered cravings, and all that is +meant by that word PASSION--she suffered. Through all the +trouble of her soul there rose eddying gusts of tempest, raised +by vanity or self-love, or pride or a high spirit; for all these +forms of egoism make common cause together. + +She had said to this man, "I love you; I am yours!" Was it +possible that the Duchesse de Langeais should have uttered those +words--in vain? She must either be loved now or play her part of +queen no longer. And then she felt the loneliness of the +luxurious couch where pleasure had never yet set his glowing +feet; and over and over again, while she tossed and writhed +there, she said, "I want to be loved." + +But the belief that she still had in herself gave her hope of +success. The Duchess might be piqued, the vain Parisienne might +be humiliated; but the woman saw glimpses of wedded happiness, +and imagination, avenging the time lost for nature, took a +delight in kindling the inextinguishable fire in her veins. She +all but attained to the sensations of love; for amid her poignant +doubt whether she was loved in return, she felt glad at heart to +say to herself, "I love him!" As for her scruples, religion, +and the world she could trample them under foot! Montriveau was +her religion now. She spent the next day in a state of moral +torpor, troubled by a physical unrest, which no words could +express. She wrote letters and tore them all up, and invented a +thousand impossible fancies. + +When M. de Montriveau's usual hour arrived, she tried to think +that he would come, and enjoyed the feeling of expectation. Her +whole life was concentrated in the single sense of hearing. +Sometimes she shut her eyes, straining her ears to listen through +space, wishing that she could annihilate everything that lay +between her and her lover, and so establish that perfect silence +which sounds may traverse from afar. In her tense +self-concentration, the ticking of the clock grew hateful to her; +she stopped its ill-omened garrulity. The twelve strokes of +midnight sounded from the drawing-room. + +"Ah, God!" she cried, "to see him here would be happiness. +And yet, it is not so very long since he came here, brought by +desire, and the tones of his voice filled this boudoir. And now +there is nothing." + +She remembered the times that she had played the coquette with +him, and how that her coquetry had cost her her lover, and the +despairing tears flowed for long. + +Her woman came at length with, "Mme la Duchesse does not know, +perhaps, that it is two o'clock in the morning; I thought that +madame was not feeling well." + +"Yes, I am going to bed," said the Duchess, drying her eyes. +"But remember, Suzanne, never to come in again without orders; I +tell you this for the last time." + +For a week, Mme de Langeais went to every house where there was a +hope of meeting M. de Montriveau. Contrary to her usual habits, +she came early and went late; gave up dancing, and went to the +card-tables. Her experiments were fruitless. She did not +succeed in getting a glimpse of Armand. She did not dare to +utter his name now. One evening, however, in a fit of despair, +she spoke to Mme de Serizy, and asked as carelessly as she could, +"You must have quarrelled with M. de Montriveau? He is not to +be seen at your house now." + +The Countess laughed. "So he does not come here either?" she +returned. "He is not to be seen anywhere, for that matter. He +is interested in some woman, no doubt." + +"I used to think that the Marquis de Ronquerolles was one of his +friends----" the Duchess began sweetly. + +"I have never heard my brother say that he was acquainted with +him." + +Mme de Langeais did not reply. Mme de Serizy concluded from the +Duchess's silence that she might apply the scourge with impunity +to a discreet friendship which she had seen, with bitterness of +soul, for a long time past. + +"So you miss that melancholy personage, do you? I have heard +most extraordinary things of him. Wound his feelings, he never +comes back, he forgives nothing; and, if you love him, he keeps +you in chains. To everything that I said of him, one of those +that praise him sky-high would always answer, `He knows how to +love!' People are always telling me that Montriveau would give +up all for his friend; that his is a great nature. Pooh! society +does not want such tremendous natures. Men of that stamp are all +very well at home; let them stay there and leave us to our +pleasant littlenesses. What do you say, Antoinette?" + +Woman of the world though she was, the Duchess seemed agitated, +yet she replied in a natural voice that deceived her fair +friend-- + +"I am sorry to miss him. I took a great interest in him, and +promised to myself to be his sincere friend. I like great +natures, dear friend, ridiculous though you may think it. To +give oneself to a fool is a clear confession, is it not, that one +is governed wholly by one's senses?" + +Mme de Serizy's "preferences" had always been for commonplace +men; her lover at the moment, the Marquis d'Aiglemont, was a +fine, tall man. + +After this, the Countess soon took her departure, you may be sure +Mme de Langeais saw hope in Armand's withdrawal from the world; +she wrote to him at once; it was a humble, gentle letter, surely +it would bring him if he loved her still. She sent her footman +with it next day. On the servant's return, she asked whether he +had given the letter to M. de Montriveau himself, and could not +restrain the movement of joy at the affirmative answer. Armand +was in Paris! He stayed alone in his house; he did not go out +into society! So she was loved! All day long she waited for an +answer that never came. Again and again, when impatience grew +unbearable, Antoinette found reasons for his delay. Armand felt +embarrassed; the reply would come by post; but night came, and +she could not deceive herself any longer. It was a dreadful day, +a day of pain grown sweet, of intolerable heart-throbs, a day +when the heart squanders the very forces of life in riot. + +Next day she sent for an answer. + +"M. le Marquis sent word that he would call on Mme la +Duchesse," reported Julien. + +She fled lest her happiness should be seen in her face, and flung +herself on her couch to devour her first sensations. + +"He is coming!" + +The thought rent her soul. And, in truth, woe unto those for +whom suspense is not the most horrible time of tempest, while it +increases and multiplies the sweetest joys; for they have nothing +in them of that flame which quickens the images of things, giving +to them a second existence, so that we cling as closely to the +pure essence as to its outward and visible manifestation. What +is suspense in love but a constant drawing upon an unfailing +hope?--a submission to the terrible scourging of passion, while +passion is yet happy, and the disenchantment of reality has not +set in. The constant putting forth of strength and longing, +called suspense, is surely, to the human soul, as fragrance to +the flower that breathes it forth. We soon leave the brilliant, +unsatisfying colours of tulips and coreopsis, but we turn again +and again to drink in the sweetness of orange-blossoms or +volkameria-flowers compared separately, each in its own land, to +a betrothed bride, full of love, made fair by the past and +future. + +The Duchess learned the joys of this new life of hers through the +rapture with which she received the scourgings of love. As this +change wrought in her, she saw other destinies before her, and a +better meaning in the things of life. As she hurried to her +dressing-room, she understood what studied adornment and the most +minute attention to her toilet mean when these are undertaken for +love's sake and not for vanity. Even now this making ready +helped her to bear the long time of waiting. A relapse of +intense agitation set in when she was dressed; she passed through +nervous paroxysms brought on by the dreadful power which sets the +whole mind in ferment. Perhaps that power is only a disease, +though the pain of it is sweet. The Duchess was dressed and +waiting at two o clock in the afternoon. At half-past eleven +that night M. de Montriveau had not arrived. To try to give an +idea of the anguish endured by a woman who might be said to be +the spoilt child of civilisation, would be to attempt to say how +many imaginings the heart can condense into one thought. As well +endeavour to measure the forces expended by the soul in a sigh +whenever the bell rang; to estimate the drain of life when a +carriage rolled past without stopping, and left her prostrate. + +"Can he be playing with me?" she said, as the clocks struck +midnight. + +She grew white; her teeth chattered; she struck her hands +together and leapt up and crossed the boudoir, recollecting as +she did so how often he had come thither without a summons. But +she resigned herself. Had she not seen him grow pale, and start +up under the stinging barbs of irony? Then Mme de Langeais felt +the horror of the woman's appointed lot; a man's is the active +part, a woman must wait passively when she loves. If a woman +goes beyond her beloved, she makes a mistake which few men can +forgive; almost every man would feel that a woman lowers herself +by this piece of angelic flattery. But Armand's was a great +nature; he surely must be one of the very few who can repay such +exceeding love by love that lasts forever. + +"Well, I will make the advance," she told herself, as she +tossed on her bed and found no sleep there; "I will go to him. +I will not weary myself with holding out a hand to him, but I +will hold it out. A man of a thousand will see a promise of love +and constancy in every step that a woman takes towards him. Yes, +the angels must come down from heaven to reach men; and I wish to +be an angel for him." + +Next day she wrote. It was a billet of the kind in which the +intellects of the ten thousand Sevignes that Paris now can number +particularly excel. And yet only a Duchesse de Langeais, brought +up by Mme la Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry, could have written +that delicious note; no other woman could complain without +lowering herself; could spread wings in such a flight without +draggling her pinions in humiliation; rise gracefully in revolt; +scold without giving offence; and pardon without compromising her +personal dignity. + +Julien went with the note. Julien, like his kind, was the victim +of love's marches and countermarches. + +"What did M. de Montriveau reply?" she asked, as indifferently +as she could, when the man came back to report himself. + +"M. le Marquis requested me to tell Mme la Duchesse that it was +all right." + +Oh the dreadful reaction of the soul upon herself! To have her +heart stretched on the rack before curious witnesses; yet not to +utter a sound, to be forced to keep silence! One of the +countless miseries of the rich! + +More than three weeks went by. Mme de Langeais wrote again and +again, and no answer came from Montriveau. At last she gave out +that she was ill, to gain a dispensation from attendance on the +Princess and from social duties. She was only at home to her +father the Duc de Navarreins, her aunt the Princesse de +Blamont-Chauvry, the old Vidame de Pamiers (her maternal +great-uncle), and to her husband's uncle, the Duc de Grandlieu. +These persons found no difficulty in believing that the Duchess +was ill, seeing that she grew thinner and paler and more dejected +every day. The vague ardour of love, the smart of wounded pride, +the continual prick of the only scorn that could touch her, the +yearnings towards joys that she craved with a vain continual +longing--all these things told upon her, mind and body; all the +forces of her nature were stimulated to no purpose. She was +paying the arrears of her life of make-believe. + +She went out at last to a review. M. de Montriveau was to be +there. For the Duchess, on the balcony of the Tuileries with the +Royal Family, it was one of those festival days that are long +remembered. She looked supremely beautiful in her languor; she +was greeted with admiration in all eyes. It was Montriveau's +presence that made her so fair. + +Once or twice they exchanged glances. The General came almost to +her feet in all the glory of that soldier's uniform, which +produces an effect upon the feminine imagination to which the +most prudish will confess. When a woman is very much in love, +and has not seen her lover for two months, such a swift moment +must be something like the phase of a dream when the eyes embrace +a world that stretches away forever. Only women or young men can +imagine the dull, frenzied hunger in the Duchess's eyes. As for +older men, if during the paroxysms of early passion in youth they +had experience of such phenomena of nervous power; at a later day +it is so completely forgotten that they deny the very existence +of the luxuriant ecstasy--the only name that can be given to +these wonderful intuitions. Religious ecstasy is the aberration +of a soul that has shaken off its bonds of flesh; whereas in +amorous ecstasy all the forces of soul and body are embraced and +blended in one. If a woman falls a victim to the tyrannous +frenzy before which Mme de Langeais was forced to bend, she will +take one decisive resolution after another so swiftly that it is +impossible to give account of them. Thought after thought rises +and flits across her brain, as clouds are whirled by the wind +across the grey veil of mist that shuts out the sun. Thenceforth +the facts reveal all. And the facts are these. + +The day after the review, Mme de Langeais sent her carriage and +liveried servants to wait at the Marquis de Montriveau's door +from eight o'clock in the morning till three in the afternoon. +Armand lived in the Rue de Tournon, a few steps away from the +Chamber of Peers, and that very day the House was sitting; but +long before the peers returned to their palaces, several people +had recognised the Duchess's carriage and liveries. The first of +these was the Baron de Maulincour. That young officer had met +with disdain from Mme de Langeais and a better reception from Mme +de Serizy; he betook himself at once therefore to his mistress, +and under seal of secrecy told her of this strange freak. + +In a moment the news was spread with telegraphic speed through +all the coteries in the Faubourg Saint-Germain; it reached the +Tuileries and the Elysee-Bourbon; it was the sensation of the +day, the matter of all the talk from noon till night. Almost +everywhere the women denied the facts, but in such a manner that +the report was confirmed; the men one and all believed it, and +manifested a most indulgent interest in Mme de Langeais. Some +among them threw the blame on Armand. + +"That savage of a Montriveau is a man of bronze," said they; +"he insisted on making this scandal, no doubt." + +"Very well, then," others replied, "Mme de Langeais has been +guilty of a most generous piece of imprudence. To renounce the +world and rank, and fortune, and consideration for her lover's +sake, and that in the face of all Paris, is as fine a coup d'etat +for a woman as that barber's knife-thrust, which so affected +Canning in a court of assize. Not one of the women who blame the +Duchess would make a declaration worthy of ancient times. It is +heroic of Mme de Langeais to proclaim herself so frankly. Now +there is nothing left to her but to love Montriveau. There must +be something great about a woman if she says, `I will have but +one passion.'" + +"But what is to become of society, monsieur, if you honour vice +in this way without respect for virtue?" asked the Comtesse de +Granville, the attorney-general's wife. + +While the Chateau, the Faubourg, and the Chaussee d'Antin were +discussing the shipwreck of aristocratic virtue; while excited +young men rushed about on horseback to make sure that the +carriage was standing in the Rue de Tournon, and the Duchess in +consequence was beyond a doubt in M. de Montriveau's rooms, Mme +de Langeais, with heavy throbbing pulses, was lying hidden away +in her boudoir. And Armand?--he had been out all night, and at +that moment was walking with M. de Marsay in the Gardens of the +Tuileries. The elder members, of Mme de Langeais's family were +engaged in calling upon one another, arranging to read her a +homily and to hold a consultation as to the best way of putting a +stop to the scandal. + +At three o'clock, therefore, M. le Duc de Navarreins, the Vidame +de Pamiers, the old Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry, and the Duc de +Grandlieu were assembled in Mme la Duchesse de Langeais's +drawing-room. To them, as to all curious enquirers, the servants +said that their mistress was not at home; the Duchess had made no +exceptions to her orders. But these four personages shone +conspicuous in that lofty sphere, of which the revolutions and +hereditary pretensions are solemnly recorded year by year in the +Almanach de Gotha, wherefore without some slight sketch of each +of them this picture of society were incomplete. + +The Princesse de Blamont-Chauvry, in the feminine world, was a +most poetic wreck of the reign of Louis Quinze. In her beautiful +prime, so it was said, she had done her part to win for that +monarch his appellation of le Bien-aime. Of her past charms of +feature, little remained save a remarkably prominent slender +nose, curved like a Turkish scimitar, now the principal ornament +of a countenance that put you in mind of an old white glove. Add +a few powdered curls, high-heeled pantoufles, a cap with +upstanding loops of lace, black mittens, and a decided taste for +ombre. But to do full justice to the lady, it must be said that +she appeared in low-necked gowns of an evening (so high an +opinion of her ruins had she), wore long gloves, and raddled her +cheeks with Martin's classic rouge. An appalling amiability in +her wrinkles, a prodigious brightness in the old lady's eyes, a +profound dignity in her whole person, together with the triple +barbed wit of her tongue, and an infallible memory in her head, +made of her a real power in the land. The whole Cabinet des +Chartes was entered in duplicate on the parchment of her brain. +She knew all the genealogies of every noble house in +Europe--princes, dukes, and counts--and could put her hand on the +last descendants of Charlemagne in the direct line. No +usurpation of title could escape the Princesse de +Blamont-Chauvry. + +Young men who wished to stand well at Court, ambitious men, and +young married women paid her assiduous homage. Her salon set the +tone of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. The words of this Talleyrand +in petticoats were taken as final decrees. People came to +consult her on questions of etiquette or usages, or to take +lessons in good taste. And, in truth, no other old woman could +put back her snuff-box in her pocket as the Princess could; while +there was a precision and a grace about the movements of her +skirts, when she sat down or crossed her feet, which drove the +finest ladies of the young generation to despair. Her voice had +remained in her head during one-third of her lifetime; but she +could not prevent a descent into the membranes of the nose, which +lent to it a peculiar expressiveness. She still retained a +hundred and fifty thousand livres of her great fortune, for +Napoleon had generously returned her woods to her; so that +personally and in the matter of possessions she was a woman of no +little consequence. + +This curious antique, seated in a low chair by the fireside, was +chatting with the Vidame de Pamiers, a contemporary ruin. The +Vidame was a big, tall, and spare man, a seigneur of the old +school, and had been a Commander of the Order of Malta. His neck +had always been so tightly compressed by a strangulation stock, +that his cheeks pouched over it a little, and he held his head +high; to many people this would have given an air of +self-sufficiency, but in the Vidame it was justified by a +Voltairean wit. His wide prominent eyes seemed to see +everything, and as a matter of fact there was not much that they +had not seen. Altogether, his person was a perfect model of +aristocratic outline, slim and slender, supple and agreeable. He +seemed as if he could be pliant or rigid at will, and twist and +bend, or rear his head like a snake. + +The Duc de Navarreins was pacing up and down the room with the +Duc de Grandlieu. Both were men of fifty-six or thereabouts, and +still hale; both were short, corpulent, flourishing, somewhat +florid-complexioned men with jaded eyes, and lower lips that had +begun to hang already. But for an exquisite refinement of +accent, an urbane courtesy, and an ease of manner that could +change in a moment to insolence, a superficial observer might +have taken them for a couple of bankers. Any such mistake would +have been impossible, however, if the listener could have heard +them converse, and seen them on their guard with men whom they +feared, vapid and commonplace with their equals, slippery with +the inferiors whom courtiers and statesmen know how to tame by a +tactful word, or to humiliate with an unexpected phrase. + +Such were the representatives of the great noblesse that +determined to perish rather than submit to any change. It was a +noblesse that deserved praise and blame in equal measure; a +noblesse that will never be judged impartially until some poet +shall arise to tell how joyfully the nobles obeyed the King +though their heads fell under a Richelieu's axe, and how deeply +they scorned the guillotine of '89 as a foul revenge. + +Another noticeable trait in all the four was a thin voice that +agreed peculiarly well with their ideas and bearing. Among +themselves, at any rate, they were on terms of perfect equality. +None of them betrayed any sign of annoyance over the Duchess's +escapade, but all of them had learned at Court to hide their +feelings. + +And here, lest critics should condemn the puerility of the +opening of the forthcoming scene, it is perhaps as well to remind +the reader that Locke, once happening to be in the company of +several great lords, renowned no less for their wit than for +their breeding and political consistency, wickedly amused himself +by taking down their conversation by some shorthand process of +his own; and afterwards, when he read it over to them to see what +they could make of it, they all burst out laughing. And, in +truth, the tinsel jargon which circulates among the upper ranks +in every country yields mighty little gold to the crucible when +washed in the ashes of literature or philosophy. In every rank +of society (some few Parisian salons excepted) the curious +observer finds folly a constant quantity beneath a more or less +transparent varnish. Conversation with any substance in it is a +rare exception, and boeotianism is current coin in every zone. +In the higher regions they must perforce talk more, but to make +up for it they think the less. Thinking is a tiring exercise, +and the rich like their lives to flow by easily and without +effort. It is by comparing the fundamental matter of jests, as +you rise in the social scale from the street-boy to the peer of +France, that the observer arrives at a true comprehension of M. +de Talleyrand's maxim, "The manner is everything"; an elegant +rendering of the legal axiom, "The form is of more consequence +than the matter." In the eyes of the poet the advantage rests +with the lower classes, for they seldom fail to give a certain +character of rude poetry to their thoughts. Perhaps also this +same observation may explain the sterility of the salons, their +emptiness, their shallowness, and the repugnance felt by men of +ability for bartering their ideas for such pitiful small change. + +The Duke suddenly stopped as if some bright idea occurred to him, +and remarked to his neighbour-- + +"So you have sold Tornthon?" + +"No, he is ill. I am very much afraid I shall lose him, and I +should be uncommonly sorry. He is a very good hunter. Do you +know how the Duchesse de Marigny is?" + +"No. I did not go this morning. I was just going out to call +when you came in to speak about Antoinette. But yesterday she +was very ill indeed; they had given her up, she took the +sacrament." + +"Her death will make a change in your cousin's position." + +"Not at all. She gave away her property in her lifetime, only +keeping an annuity. She made over the Guebriant estate to her +niece, Mme de Soulanges, subject to a yearly charge." + +"It will be a great loss for society. She was a kind woman. +Her family will miss her; her experience and advice carried +weight. Her son Marigny is an amiable man; he has a sharp wit, +he can talk. He is pleasant, very pleasant. Pleasant? oh, that +no one can deny, but--ill regulated to the last degree. Well, +and yet it is an extraordinary thing, he is very acute. He was +dining at the club the other day with that moneyed +Chaussee-d'Antin set. Your uncle (he always goes there for his +game of cards) found him there to his astonishment, and asked if +he was a member. `Yes,' said he, `I don't go into society now; I +am living among the bankers.'--You know why?" added the Marquis, +with a meaning smile. + +"No," said the Duke. + +"He is smitten with that little Mme Keller, Gondreville's +daughter; she is only lately married, and has a great vogue, they +say, in that set." + +"Well, Antoinette does not find time heavy on her hands, it +seems," remarked the Vidame. + +"My affection for that little woman has driven me to find a +singular pastime," replied the Princess, as she returned her +snuff-box to her pocket. + +"Dear aunt, I am extremely vexed," said the Duke, stopping +short in his walk. "Nobody but one of Buonaparte's men could +ask such an indecorous thing of a woman of fashion. Between +ourselves, Antoinette might have made a better choice." + +"The Montriveaus are a very old family and very well connected, +my dear," replied the Princess; "they are related to all the +noblest houses of Burgundy. If the Dulmen branch of the Arschoot +Rivaudoults should come to an end in Galicia, the Montriveaus +would succeed to the Arschoot title and estates. They inherit +through their great-grandfather. + +"Are you sure?" + +"I know it better than this Montriveau's father did. I told him +about it, I used to see a good deal of him; and, Chevalier of +several orders though he was, he only laughed; he was an +encyclopaedist. But his brother turned the relationship to good +account during the emigration. I have heard it said that his +northern kinsfolk were most kind in every way----" + +"Yes, to be sure. The Comte de Montriveau died at St. +Petersburg," said the Vidame. "I met him there. He was a big +man with an incredible passion for oysters." + +"However many did he eat?" asked the Duc de Grandlieu. + +"Ten dozen every day." + +"And did they not disagree with him?" + +"Not the least bit in the world." + +"Why, that is extraordinary! Had he neither the stone nor gout, +nor any other complaint, in consequence?" + +"No; his health was perfectly good, and he died through an +accident." + +"By accident! Nature prompted him to eat oysters, so probably +he required them; for up to a certain point our predominant +tastes are conditions of our existence." + +"I am of your opinion," said the Princess, with a smile. + +"Madame, you always put a malicious construction on things," +returned the Marquis. + +"I only want you to understand that these remarks might leave a +wrong impression on a young woman's mind," said she, and +interrupted herself to exclaim, "But this niece, this niece of +mine!" + +"Dear aunt, I still refuse to believe that she can have gone to +M. de Montriveau," said the Duc de Navarreins. + +"Bah!" returned the Princess. + +"What do you think, Vidame?" asked the Marquis. + +"If the Duchess were an artless simpleton, I should think +that----" + +"But when a woman is in love she becomes an artless simpleton," +retorted the Princess. "Really, my poor Vidame, you must be +getting older." + +"After all, what is to be done?" asked the Duke. + +"If my dear niece is wise," said the Princess, "she will go to +Court this evening--fortunately, today is Monday, and reception +day--and you must see that we all rally round her and give the +lie to this absurd rumour. There are hundreds of ways of +explaining things; and if the Marquis de Montriveau is a +gentleman, he will come to our assistance. We will bring these +children to listen to reason----" + +"But, dear aunt, it is not easy to tell M. de Montriveau the +truth to his face. He is one of Buonaparte's pupils, and he has +a position. Why, he is one of the great men of the day; he is +high up in the Guards, and very useful there. He has not a spark +of ambition. He is just the man to say, `Here is my commission, +leave me in peace,' if the King should say a word that he did not +like." + +"Then, pray, what are his opinions?" + +"Very unsound." + +"Really," sighed the Princess, "the King is, as he always has +been, a Jacobin under the Lilies of France." + +"Oh! not quite so bad," said the Vidame. + +"Yes; I have known him for a long while. The man that pointed +out the Court to his wife on the occasion of her first state +dinner in public with, `These are our people,' could only be a +black-hearted scoundrel. I can see Monsieur exactly the same as +ever in the King. The bad brother who voted so wrongly in his +department of the Constituent Assembly was sure to compound with +the Liberals and allow them to argue and talk. This +philosophical cant will be just as dangerous now for the younger +brother as it used to be for the elder; this fat man with the +little mind is amusing himself by creating difficulties, and how +his successor is to get out of them I do not know; he holds his +younger brother in abhorrence; he would be glad to think as he +lay dying, `He will not reign very long----'" + +"Aunt, he is the King, and I have the honour to be in his +service----" + +"But does your post take away your right of free speech, my +dear? You come of quite as good a house as the Bourbons. If the +Guises had shown a little more resolution, His Majesty would be a +nobody at this day. It is time I went out of this world, the +noblesse is dead. Yes, it is all over with you, my children," +she continued, looking as she spoke at the Vidame. "What has my +niece done that the whole town should be talking about her? She +is in the wrong; I disapprove of her conduct, a useless scandal +is a blunder; that is why I still have my doubts about this want +of regard for appearances; I brought her up, and I know +that----" + +Just at that moment the Duchess came out of her boudoir. She had +recognised her aunt's voice and heard the name of Montriveau. +She was still in her loose morning-gown; and even as she came in, +M. de Grandlieu, looking carelessly out of the window, saw his +niece's carriage driving back along the street. The Duke took +his daughter's face in both hands and kissed her on the forehead. + +"So, dear girl," he said, "you do not know what is going on?" + +"Has anything extraordinary happened, father dear?" + +"Why, all Paris believes that you are with M. de Montriveau." + +"My dear Antoinette, you were at home all the time, were you +not?" said the Princess, holding out a hand, which the Duchess +kissed with affectionate respect. + +"Yes, dear mother; I was at home all the time. And," she +added, as she turned to greet the Vidame and the Marquis, "I +wished that all Paris should think that I was with M. de +Montriveau." + +The Duke flung up his hands, struck them together in despair, and +folded his arms. + +"Then, cannot you see what will come of this mad freak?" he +asked at last. + +But the aged Princess had suddenly risen, and stood looking +steadily at the Duchess, the younger woman flushed, and her eyes +fell. Mme de Chauvry gently drew her closer, and said, "My +little angel, let me kiss you!" + +She kissed her niece very affectionately on the forehead, and +continued smiling, while she held her hand in a tight clasp. + +"We are not under the Valois now, dear child. You have +compromised your husband and your position. Still, we will +arrange to make everything right." + +"But, dear aunt, I do not wish to make it right at all. It is +my wish that all Paris should say that I was with M. de +Montriveau this morning. If you destroy that belief, however ill +grounded it may be, you will do me a singular disservice." + +"Do you really wish to ruin yourself, child, and to grieve your +family?" + +"My family, father, unintentionally condemned me to irreparable +misfortune when they sacrificed me to family considerations. You +may, perhaps, blame me for seeking alleviations, but you will +certainly feel for me." + +"After all the endless pains you take to settle your daughters +suitably!" muttered M. de Navarreins, addressing the Vidame. + +The Princess shook a stray grain of snuff from her skirts. "My +dear little girl," she said, "be happy, if you can. We are not +talking of troubling your felicity, but of reconciling it with +social usages. We all of us here assembled know that marriage is +a defective institution tempered by love. But when you take a +lover, is there any need to make your bed in the Place du +Carrousel? See now, just be a bit reasonable, and hear what we +have to say." + +"I am listening." + +"Mme la Duchesse," began the Duc de Grandlieu, "if it were any +part of an uncle's duty to look after his nieces, he ought to +have a position; society would owe him honours and rewards and a +salary, exactly as if he were in the King's service. So I am not +here to talk about my nephew, but of your own interests. Let us +look ahead a little. If you persist in making a scandal--I have +seen the animal before, and I own that I have no great liking for +him--Langeais is stingy enough, and he does not care a rap for +anyone but himself; he will have a separation; he will stick to +your money, and leave you poor, and consequently you will be a +nobody. The income of a hundred thousand livres that you have +just inherited from your maternal great-aunt will go to pay for +his mistresses' amusements. You will be bound and gagged by the +law; you will have to say Amen to all these arrangements. +Suppose M. de Montriveau leaves you----dear me! do not let us put +ourselves in a passion, my dear niece; a man does not leave a +woman while she is young and pretty; still, we have seen so many +pretty women left disconsolate, even among princesses, that you +will permit the supposition, an all but impossible supposition I +quite wish to believe.----Well, suppose that he goes, what will +become of you without a husband? Keep well with your husband as +you take care of your beauty; for beauty, after all, is a woman's +parachute, and a husband also stands between you and worse. I am +supposing that you are happy and loved to the end, and I am +leaving unpleasant or unfortunate events altogether out of the +reckoning. This being so, fortunately or unfortunately, you may +have children. What are they to be? Montriveaus? Very well; +they certainly will not succeed to their father's whole fortune. +You will want to give them all that you have; he will wish to do +the same. Nothing more natural, dear me! And you will find the +law against you. How many times have we seen heirs-at-law +bringing a law-suit to recover the property from illegitimate +children? Every court of law rings with such actions all over +the world. You will create a fidei commissum perhaps; and if the +trustee betrays your confidence, your children have no remedy +against him; and they are ruined. So choose carefully. You see +the perplexities of the position. In every possible way your +children will be sacrificed of necessity to the fancies of your +heart; they will have no recognised status. While they are +little they will be charming; but, Lord! some day they will +reproach you for thinking of no one but your two selves. We old +gentlemen know all about it. Little boys grow up into men, and +men are ungrateful beings. When I was in Germany, did I not hear +young de Horn say, after supper, `If my mother had been an honest +woman, I should be prince-regnant!' `IF?' We have spent our +lives in hearing plebeians say IF. IF brought about the +Revolution. When a man cannot lay the blame on his father or +mother, he holds God responsible for his hard lot. In short, +dear child, we are here to open your eyes. I will say all I have +to say in a few words, on which you had better meditate: A woman +ought never to put her husband in the right." + +"Uncle, so long as I cared for nobody, I could calculate; I +looked at interests then, as you do; now, I can only feel." + +"But, my dear little girl," remonstrated the Vidame, "life is +simply a complication of interests and feelings; to be happy, +more particularly in your position, one must try to reconcile +one's feelings with one's interests. A grisette may love +according to her fancy, that is intelligible enough, but you have +a pretty fortune, a family, a name and a place at Court, and you +ought not to fling them out of the window. And what have we been +asking you to do to keep them all?--To manoeuvre carefully +instead of falling foul of social conventions. Lord! I shall +very soon be eighty years old, and I cannot recollect, under any +regime, a love worth the price that you are willing to pay for +the love of this lucky young man." + +The Duchess silenced the Vidame with a look; if Montriveau could +have seen that glance, he would have forgiven all. + +"It would be very effective on the stage," remarked the Duc de +Grandlieu, "but it all amounts to nothing when your jointure and +position and independence is concerned. You are not grateful, my +dear niece. You will not find many families where the relatives +have courage enough to teach the wisdom gained by experience, and +to make rash young heads listen to reason. Renounce your +salvation in two minutes, if it pleases you to damn yourself; +well and good; but reflect well beforehand when it comes to +renouncing your income. I know of no confessor who remits the +pains of poverty. I have a right, I think, to speak in this way +to you; for if you are ruined, I am the one person who can offer +you a refuge. I am almost an uncle to Langeais, and I alone have +a right to put him in the wrong." + +The Duc de Navarreins roused himself from painful reflections. + +"Since you speak of feeling, my child," he said, "let me +remind you that a woman who bears your name ought to be moved by +sentiments which do not touch ordinary people. Can you wish to +give an advantage to the Liberals, to those Jesuits of +Robespierre's that are doing all they can to vilify the noblesse? +Some things a Navarreins cannot do without failing in duty to his +house. You would not be alone in your dishonour----" + +"Come, come!" said the Princess. "Dishonour? Do not make +such a fuss about the journey of an empty carriage, children, and +leave me alone with Antoinette. Ail three of you come and dine +with me. I will undertake to arrange matters suitably. You men +understand nothing; you are beginning to talk sourly already, and +I have no wish to see a quarrel between you and my dear child. +Do me the pleasure to go." + +The three gentlemen probably guessed the Princess's intentions; +they took their leave. M. de Navarreins kissed his daughter on +the forehead with, "Come, be good, dear child. It is not too +late yet if you choose." + +"Couldn't we find some good fellow in the family to pick a +quarrel with this Montriveau?" said the Vidame, as they went +downstairs. + +When the two women were alone, the Princess beckoned her niece to +a little low chair by her side. + +"My pearl," said she, "in this world below, I know nothing +worse calumniated than God and the eighteenth century; for as I +look back over my own young days, I do not recollect that a +single duchess trampled the proprieties underfoot as you have +just done. Novelists and scribblers brought the reign of Louis +XV into disrepute. Do not believe them. The du Barry, my dear, +was quite as good as the Widow Scarron, and the more agreeable +woman of the two. In my time a woman could keep her dignity +among her gallantries. Indiscretion was the ruin of us, and the +beginning of all the mischief. The philosophists--the nobodies +whom we admitted into our salons--had no more gratitude or sense +of decency than to make an inventory of our hearts, to traduce us +one and all, and to rail against the age by way of a return for +our kindness. The people are not in a position to judge of +anything whatsoever; they looked at the facts, not at the form. +But the men and women of those times, my heart, were quite as +remarkable as at any other period of the Monarchy. Not one of +your Werthers, none of your notabilities, as they are called, +never a one of your men in yellow kid gloves and trousers that +disguise the poverty of their legs, would cross Europe in the +dress of a travelling hawker to brave the daggers of a Duke of +Modena, and to shut himself up in the dressing-room of the +Regent's daughter at the risk of his life. Not one of your +little consumptive patients with their tortoiseshell eyeglasses +would hide himself in a closet for six weeks, like Lauzun, to +keep up his mistress's courage while she was lying in of her +child. There was more passion in M. de Jaucourt's little finger +than in your whole race of higglers that leave a woman to better +themselves elsewhere! Just tell me where to find the page that +would be cut in pieces and buried under the floorboards for one +kiss on the Konigsmark's gloved finger! + +"Really, it would seem today that the roles are exchanged, and +women are expected to show their devotion for men. These modern +gentlemen are worth less, and think more of themselves. Believe +me, my dear, all these adventures that have been made public, and +now are turned against our good Louis XV, were kept quite secret +at first. If it had not been for a pack of poetasters, +scribblers, and moralists, who hung about our waiting-women, and +took down their slanders, our epoch would have appeared in +literature as a well-conducted age. I am justifying the century +and not its fringe. Perhaps a hundred women of quality were +lost; but for every one, the rogues set down ten, like the +gazettes after a battle when they count up the losses of the +beaten side. And in any case I do not know that the Revolution +and the Empire can reproach us; they were coarse, dull, +licentious times. Faugh! it is revolting. Those are the +brothels of French history. + +"This preamble, my dear child," she continued after a pause, +"brings me to the thing that I have to say. If you care for +Montriveau, you are quite at liberty to love him at your ease, +and as much as you can. I know by experience that, unless you +are locked up (but locking people up is out of fashion now), you +will do as you please; I should have done the same at your age. +Only, sweetheart, I should not have given up my right to be the +mother of future Ducs de Langeais. So mind appearances. The +Vidame is right. No man is worth a single one of the sacrifices +which we are foolish enough to make for their love. Put yourself +in such a position that you may still be M. de Langeais's wife, +in case you should have the misfortune to repent. When you are +an old woman, you will be very glad to hear mass said at Court, +and not in some provincial convent. Therein lies the whole +question. A single imprudence means an allowance and a wandering +life; it means that you are at the mercy of your lover; it means +that you must put up with insolence from women that are not so +honest, precisely because they have been very vulgarly +sharp-witted. It would be a hundred times better to go to +Montriveau's at night in a cab, and disguised, instead of sending +your carriage in broad daylight. You are a little fool, my dear +child! Your carriage flattered his vanity; your person would +have ensnared his heart. All this that I have said is just and +true; but, for my own part, I do not blame you. You are two +centuries behind the times with your false ideas of greatness. +There, leave us to arrange your affairs, and say that Montriveau +made your servants drunk to gratify his vanity and to compromise +you----" + +The Duchess rose to her feet with a spring. "In Heaven's name, +aunt, do not slander him!" + +The old Princess's eyes flashed. + +"Dear child," she said, "I should have liked to spare such of +your illusions as were not fatal. But there must be an end of +all illusions now. You would soften me if I were not so old. +Come, now, do not vex him, or us, or anyone else. I will +undertake to satisfy everybody; but promise me not to permit +yourself a single step henceforth until you have consulted me. +Tell me all, and perhaps I may bring it all right again." + +"Aunt, I promise----" + +"To tell me everything?" + +"Yes, everything. Everything that can be told." + +"But, my sweetheart, it is precisely what cannot be told that I +want to know. Let us understand each other thoroughly. Come, +let me put my withered old lips on your beautiful forehead. No; +let me do as I wish. I forbid you to kiss my bones. Old people +have a courtesy of their own. . . . There, take me down to my +carriage," she added, when she had kissed her niece. + +"Then may I go to him in disguise, dear aunt?" + +"Why--yes. The story can always be denied," said the old +Princess. + +This was the one idea which the Duchess had clearly grasped in +the sermon. When Mme de Chauvry was seated in the corner of her +carriage, Mme de Langeais bade her a graceful adieu and went up +to her room. She was quite happy again. + +"My person would have snared his heart; my aunt is right; a man +cannot surely refuse a pretty woman when she understands how to +offer herself." + +That evening, at the Elysee-Bourbon, the Duc de Navarreins, M. de +Pamiers, M. de Marsay, M. de Grandlieu, and the Duc de +Maufrigneuse triumphantly refuted the scandals that were +circulating with regard to the Duchesse de Langeais. So many +officers and other persons had seen Montriveau walking in the +Tuileries that morning, that the silly story was set down to +chance, which takes all that is offered. And so, in spite of the +fact that the Duchess's carriage had waited before Montriveau's +door, her character became as clear and as spotless as Mambrino's +sword after Sancho had polished it up. + +But, at two o'clock, M. de Ronquerolles passed Montriveau in a +deserted alley, and said with a smile, "She is coming on, is +your Duchess. Go on, keep it up!" he added, and gave a +significant cut of the riding whip to his mare, who sped off like +a bullet down the avenue. + +Two days after the fruitless scandal, Mme de Langeais wrote to M. +de Montriveau. That letter, like the preceding ones, remained +unanswered. This time she took her own measures, and bribed M. +de Montriveau's man, Auguste. And so at eight o'clock that +evening she was introduced into Armand's apartment. It was not +the room in which that secret scene had passed; it was entirely +different. The Duchess was told that the General would not be at +home that night. Had he two houses? The man would give no +answer. Mme de Langeais had bought the key of the room, but not +the man's whole loyalty. + +When she was left alone she saw her fourteen letters lying on an +old-fashioned stand, all of them uncreased and unopened. He had +not read them. She sank into an easy-chair, and for a while she +lost consciousness. When she came to herself, Auguste was +holding vinegar for her to inhale. + +"A carriage; quick!" she ordered. + +The carriage came. She hastened downstairs with convulsive +speed, and left orders that no one was to be admitted. For +twenty-four hours she lay in bed, and would have no one near her +but her woman, who brought her a cup of orange-flower water from +time to time. Suzette heard her mistress moan once or twice, and +caught a glimpse of tears in the brilliant eyes, now circled with +dark shadows. + +The next day, amid despairing tears, Mme de Langeais took her +resolution. Her man of business came for an interview, and no +doubt received instructions of some kind. Afterwards she sent +for the Vidame de Pamiers; and while she waited, she wrote a +letter to M. de Montriveau. The Vidame punctually came towards +two o'clock that afternoon, to find his young cousin looking +white and worn, but resigned; never had her divine loveliness +been more poetic than now in the languor of her agony. + +"You owe this assignation to your eighty-four years, dear +cousin," she said. "Ah! do not smile, I beg of you, when an +unhappy woman has reached the lowest depths of wretchedness. You +are a gentleman, and after the adventures of your youth you must +feel some indulgence for women." + +"None whatever," said he. + +"Indeed!" + +"Everything is in their favour." + +"Ah! Well, you are one of the inner family circle; possibly you +will be the last relative, the last friend whose hand I shall +press, so I can ask your good offices. Will you, dear Vidame, do +me a service which I could not ask of my own father, nor of my +uncle Grandlieu, nor of any woman? You cannot fail to +understand. I beg of you to do my bidding, and then to forget +what you have done, whatever may come of it. It is this: Will +you take this letter and go to M. de Montriveau? will you see him +yourself, give it into his hands, and ask him, as you men can ask +things between yourselves--for you have a code of honour between +man and man which you do not use with us, and a different way of +regarding things between yourselves--ask him if he will read this +letter? Not in your presence. Certain feelings men hide from +each other. I give you authority to say, if you think it +necessary to bring him, that it is a question of life or death +for me. If he deigns----" + +"DEIGNS!" repeated the Vidame. + +"If he deigns to read it," the Duchess continued with dignity, +"say one thing more. You will go to see him about five o'clock, +for I know that he will dine at home today at that time. Very +good. By way of answer he must come to see me. If, three hours +afterwards, by eight o'clock, he does not leave his house, all +will be over. The Duchesse de Langeais will have vanished from +the world. I shall not be dead, dear friend, no, but no human +power will ever find me again on this earth. Come and dine with +me; I shall at least have one friend with me in the last agony. +Yes, dear cousin, tonight will decide my fate; and whatever +happens to me, I pass through an ordeal by fire. There! not a +word. I will hear nothing of the nature of comment or +advice----Let us chat and laugh together," she added, holding +out a hand, which he kissed. "We will be like two grey-headed +philosophers who have learned how to enjoy life to the last +moment. I will look my best; I will be very enchanting for you. +You perhaps will be the last man to set eyes on the Duchesse de +Langeais." + +The Vicomte bowed, took the letter, and went without a word. At +five o'clock he returned. His cousin had studied to please him, +and she looked lovely indeed. The room was gay with flowers as +if for a festivity; the dinner was exquisite. For the +grey-headed Vidame the Duchess displayed all the brilliancy of +her wit; she was more charming than she had ever been before. At +first the Vidame tried to look on all these preparations as a +young woman's jest; but now and again the attempted illusion +faded, the spell of his fair cousin's charm was broken. He +detected a shudder caused by some kind of sudden dread, and once +she seemed to listen during a pause. + +"What is the matter?" he asked. + +"Hush!" she said. + +At seven o'clock the Duchess left him for a few minutes. When +she came back again she was dressed as her maid might have +dressed for a journey. She asked her guest to be her escort, +took his arm, sprang into a hackney coach, and by a quarter to +eight they stood outside M. de Montriveau's door. + +Armand meantime had been reading the following letter:-- + + +"MY FRIEND,--I went to your rooms for a few minutes without your +knowledge; I found my letters there, and took them away. This +cannot be indifference, Armand, between us; and hatred would show +itself quite differently. If you love me, make an end of this +cruel play, or you will kill me, and afterwards, learning how +much you were loved, you might be in despair. If I have not +rightly understood you, if you have no feeling towards me but +aversion, which implies both contempt and disgust, then I give up +all hope. A man never recovers from those feelings. You will +have no regrets. Dreadful though that thought may be, it will +comfort me in my long sorrow. Regrets? Oh, my Armand, may I +never know of them; if I thought that I had caused you a single +regret----But, no, I will not tell you what desolation I should +feel. I should be living still, and I could not be your wife; it +would be too late! + +"Now that I have given myself wholly to you in thought, to whom +else should I give myself?--to God. The eyes that you loved for +a little while shall never look on another man's face; and may +the glory of God blind them to all besides. I shall never hear +human voices more since I heard yours--so gentle at the first, so +terrible yesterday; for it seems to me that I am still only on +the morrow of your vengeance. And now may the will of God +consume me. Between His wrath and yours, my friend, there will +be nothing left for me but a little space for tears and prayers. + +"Perhaps you wonder why I write to you? Ah! do not think ill of +me if I keep a gleam of hope, and give one last sigh to happy +life before I take leave of it forever. I am in a hideous +position. I feel all the inward serenity that comes when a great +resolution has been taken, even while I hear the last growlings +of the storm. When you went out on that terrible adventure which +so drew me to you, Armand, you went from the desert to the oasis +with a good guide to show you the way. Well, I am going out of +the oasis into the desert, and you are a pitiless guide to me. +And yet you only, my friend, can understand how melancholy it is +to look back for the last time on happiness--to you, and you +only, I can make moan without a blush. If you grant my entreaty, +I shall be happy; if you are inexorable, I shall expiate the +wrong that I have done. After all, it is natural, is it not, +that a woman should wish to live, invested with all noble +feelings, in her friend's memory? Oh! my one and only love, let +her to whom you gave life go down into the tomb in the belief +that she is great in your eyes. Your harshness led me to +reflect; and now that I love you so, it seems to me that I am +less guilty than you think. Listen to my justification, I owe it +to you; and you that are all the world to me, owe me at least a +moment's justice. + +"I have learned by my own anguish all that I made you suffer by +my coquetry; but in those days I was utterly ignorant of love. +YOU know what the torture is, and you mete it out to me! During +those first eight months that you gave me you never roused any +feeling of love in me. Do you ask why this was so, my friend? I +can no more explain it than I can tell you why I love you now. +Oh! certainly it flattered my vanity that I should be the subject +of your passionate talk, and receive those burning glances of +yours; but you left me cold. No, I was not a woman; I had no +conception of womanly devotion and happiness. Who was to blame? +You would have despised me, would you not, if I had given myself +without the impulse of passion? Perhaps it is the highest height +to which we can rise--to give all and receive no joy; perhaps +there is no merit in yielding oneself to bliss that is foreseen +and ardently desired. Alas, my friend, I can say this now; these +thoughts came to me when I played with you; and you seemed to me +so great even then that I would not have you owe the gift to +pity----What is this that I have written? + +"I have taken back all my letters; I am flinging them one by one +on the fire; they are burning. You will never know what they +confessed--all the love and the passion and the madness---- + +"I will say no more, Armand; I will stop. I will not say +another word of my feelings. If my prayers have not echoed from +my soul through yours, I also, woman that I am, decline to owe +your love to your pity. It is my wish to be loved, because you +cannot choose but love me, or else to be left without mercy. If +you refuse to read this letter, it shall be burnt. If, after you +have read it, you do not come to me within three hours, to be +henceforth forever my husband, the one man in the world for me; +then I shall never blush to know that this letter is in your +hands, the pride of my despair will protect my memory from all +insult, and my end shall be worthy of my love. When you see me +no more on earth, albeit I shall still be alive, you yourself +will not think without a shudder of the woman who, in three +hours' time, will live only to overwhelm you with her tenderness; +a woman consumed by a hopeless love, and faithful--not to +memories of past joys--but to a love that was slighted. + +"The Duchesse de la Valliere wept for lost happiness and +vanished power; but the Duchesse de Langeais will be happy that +she may weep and be a power for you still. Yes, you will regret +me. I see clearly that I was not of this world, and I thank you +for making it clear to me. + +"Farewell; you will never touch MY axe. Yours was the +executioner's axe, mine is God's; yours kills, mine saves. Your +love was but mortal, it could not endure disdain or ridicule; +mine can endure all things without growing weaker, it will last +eternally. Ah! I feel a sombre joy in crushing you that believe +yourself so great; in humbling you with the calm, indulgent smile +of one of the least among the angels that lie at the feet of God, +for to them is given the right and the power to protect and watch +over men in His name. You have but felt fleeting desires, while +the poor nun will shed the light of her ceaseless and ardent +prayer about you, she will shelter you all your life long beneath +the wings of a love that has nothing of earth in it. + +"I have a presentiment of your answer; our trysting place shall +be--in heaven. Strength and weakness can both enter there, dear +Armand; the strong and the weak are bound to suffer. This +thought soothes the anguish of my final ordeal. So calm am I +that I should fear that I had ceased to love you if I were not +about to leave the world for your sake. + +"ANTOINETTE." + + +"Dear Vidame," said the Duchess as they reached Montriveau's +house, "do me the kindness to ask at the door whether he is at +home." The Vidame, obedient after the manner of the eighteenth +century to a woman's wish, got out, and came back to bring his +cousin an affirmative answer that sent a shudder through her. +She grasped his hand tightly in hers, suffered him to kiss her on +either cheek, and begged him to go at once. He must not watch +her movements nor try to protect her. "But the people passing +in the street," he objected. + +"No one can fail in respect to me," she said. It was the last +word spoken by the Duchess and the woman of fashion. + +The Vidame went. Mme de Langeais wrapped herself about in her +cloak, and stood on the doorstep until the clocks struck eight. +The last stroke died away. The unhappy woman waited ten, fifteen +minutes; to the last she tried to see a fresh humiliation in the +delay, then her faith ebbed. She turned to leave the fatal +threshold. + +"Oh, God!" the cry broke from her in spite of herself; it was +the first word spoken by the Carmelite. + + +Montriveau and some of his friends were talking together. He +tried to hasten them to a conclusion, but his clock was slow, and +by the time he started out for the Hotel de Langeais the Duchess +was hurrying on foot through the streets of Paris, goaded by the +dull rage in her heart. She reached the Boulevard d'Enfer, and +looked out for the last time through falling tears on the noisy, +smoky city that lay below in a red mist, lighted up by its own +lamps. Then she hailed a cab, and drove away, never to return. +When the Marquis de Montriveau reached the Hotel de Langeais, and +found no trace of his mistress, he thought that he had been +duped. He hurried away at once to the Vidame, and found that +worthy gentleman in the act of slipping on his flowered +dressing-gown, thinking the while of his fair cousin's happiness. + +Montriveau gave him one of the terrific glances that produced the +effect of an electric shock on men and women alike. + +"Is it possible that you have lent yourself to some cruel hoax, +monsieur?" Montriveau exclaimed. "I have just come from Mme de +Langeais's house; the servants say that she is out." + +"Then a great misfortune has happened, no doubt," returned the +Vidame, "and through your fault. I left the Duchess at your +door----" + +"When?" + +"At a quarter to eight." + +"Good evening," returned Montriveau, and he hurried home to ask +the porter whether he had seen a lady standing on the doorstep +that evening. + +"Yes, my Lord Marquis, a handsome woman, who seemed very much +put out. She was crying like a Magdalen, but she never made a +sound, and stood as upright as a post. Then at last she went, +and my wife and I that were watching her while she could not see +us, heard her say, `Oh, God!' so that it went to our hearts, +asking your pardon, to hear her say it." + +Montriveau, in spite of all his firmness, turned pale at those +few words. He wrote a few lines to Ronquerolles, sent off the +message at once, and went up to his rooms. Ronquerolles came +just about midnight. + +Armand gave him the Duchess's letter to read. + +"Well?" asked Ronquerolles. + +"She was here at my door at eight o'clock; at a quarter-past +eight she had gone. I have lost her, and I love her. Oh! if my +life were my own, I could blow my brains out." + +"Pooh, pooh! Keep cool," said Ronquerolles. "Duchesses do +not fly off like wagtails. She cannot travel faster than three +leagues an hour, and tomorrow we will ride six.--Confound it! +Mme de Langeais is no ordinary woman," he continued. "Tomorrow +we will all of us mount and ride. The police will put us on her +track during the day. She must have a carriage; angels of that +sort have no wings. We shall find her whether she is on the road +or hidden in Paris. There is the semaphore. We can stop her. +You shall be happy. But, my dear fellow, you have made a +blunder, of which men of your energy are very often guilty. They +judge others by themselves, and do not know the point when human +nature gives way if you strain the cords too tightly. Why did +you not say a word to me sooner? I would have told you to be +punctual. Good-bye till tomorrow," he added, as Montriveau said +nothing. "Sleep if you can," he added, with a grasp of the +hand. + +But the greatest resources which society has ever placed at the +disposal of statesmen, kings, ministers, bankers, or any human +power, in fact, were all exhausted in vain. Neither Montriveau +nor his friends could find any trace of the Duchess. It was +clear that she had entered a convent. Montriveau determined to +search, or to institute a search, for her through every convent +in the world. He must have her, even at the cost of all the +lives in a town. And in justice to this extraordinary man, it +must be said that his frenzied passion awoke to the same ardour +daily and lasted through five years. Only in 1829 did the Duc de +Navarreins hear by chance that his daughter had travelled to +Spain as Lady Julia Hopwood's maid, that she had left her service +at Cadiz, and that Lady Julia never discovered that Mlle Caroline +was the illustrious duchess whose sudden disappearance filled the +minds of the highest society of Paris. + + +The feelings of the two lovers when they met again on either side +of the grating in the Carmelite convent should now be +comprehended to the full, and the violence of the passion +awakened in either soul will doubtless explain the catastrophe of +the story. + +In 1823 the Duc de Langeais was dead, and his wife was free. +Antoinette de Navarreins was living, consumed by love, on a ledge +of rock in the Mediterranean; but it was in the Pope's power to +dissolve Sister Theresa's vows. The happiness bought by so much +love might yet bloom for the two lovers. These thoughts sent +Montriveau flying from Cadiz to Marseilles, and from Marseilles +to Paris. + +A few months after his return to France, a merchant brig, fitted +out and munitioned for active service, set sail from the port of +Marseilles for Spain. The vessel had been chartered by several +distinguished men, most of them Frenchmen, who, smitten with a +romantic passion for the East, wished to make a journey to those +lands. Montriveau's familiar knowledge of Eastern customs made +him an invaluable travelling companion, and at the entreaty of +the rest he had joined the expedition; the Minister of War +appointed him lieutenant-general, and put him on the Artillery +Commission to facilitate his departure. + +Twenty-fours hours later the brig lay to off the north-west shore +of an island within sight of the Spanish coast. She had been +specially chosen for her shallow keel and light mastage, so that +she might lie at anchor in safety half a league away from the +reefs that secure the island from approach in this direction. If +fishing vessels or the people on the island caught sight of the +brig, they were scarcely likely to feel suspicious of her at +once; and besides, it was easy to give a reason for her presence +without delay. Montriveau hoisted the flag of the United States +before they came in sight of the island, and the crew of the +vessel were all American sailors, who spoke nothing but English. +One of M. de Montriveau's companions took the men ashore in the +ship's longboat, and made them so drunk at an inn in the little +town that they could not talk. Then he gave out that the brig +was manned by treasure-seekers, a gang of men whose hobby was +well known in the United States; indeed, some Spanish writer had +written a history of them. The presence of the brig among the +reefs was now sufficiently explained. The owners of the vessel, +according to the self-styled boatswain's mate, were looking for +the wreck of a galleon which foundered thereabouts in 1778 with a +cargo of treasure from Mexico. The people at the inn and the +authorities asked no more questions. + +Armand, and the devoted friends who were helping him in his +difficult enterprise, were all from the first of the opinion that +there was no hope of rescuing or carrying off Sister Theresa by +force or stratagem from the side of the little town. Wherefore +these bold spirits, with one accord, determined to take the bull +by the horns. They would make a way to the convent at the most +seemingly inaccessible point; like General Lamarque, at the +storming of Capri, they would conquer Nature. The cliff at the +end of the island, a sheer block of granite, afforded even less +hold than the rock of Capri. So it seemed at least to +Montriveau, who had taken part in that incredible exploit, while +the nuns in his eyes were much more redoubtable than Sir Hudson +Lowe. To raise a hubbub over carrying off the Duchess would +cover them with confusion. They might as well set siege to the +town and convent, like pirates, and leave not a single soul to +tell of their victory. So for them their expedition wore but two +aspects. There should be a conflagration and a feat of arms that +should dismay all Europe, while the motives of the crime remained +unknown; or, on the other hand, a mysterious, aerial descent +which should persuade the nuns that the Devil himself had paid +them a visit. They had decided upon the latter course in the +secret council held before they left Paris, and subsequently +everything had been done to insure the success of an expedition +which promised some real excitement to jaded spirits weary of +Paris and its pleasures. + +An extremely light pirogue, made at Marseilles on a Malayan +model, enabled them to cross the reef, until the rocks rose from +out of the water. Then two cables of iron wire were fastened +several feet apart between one rock and another. These wire +ropes slanted upwards and downwards in opposite directions, so +that baskets of iron wire could travel to and fro along them; and +in this manner the rocks were covered with a system of baskets +and wire-cables, not unlike the filaments which a certain species +of spider weaves about a tree. The Chinese, an essentially +imitative people, were the first to take a lesson from the work +of instinct. Fragile as these bridges were, they were always +ready for use; high waves and the caprices of the sea could not +throw them out of working order; the ropes hung just sufficiently +slack, so as to present to the breakers that particular curve +discovered by Cachin, the immortal creator of the harbour at +Cherbourg. Against this cunningly devised line the angry surge +is powerless; the law of that curve was a secret wrested from +Nature by that faculty of observation in which nearly all human +genius consists. + +M. de Montriveau's companions were alone on board the vessel, and +out of sight of every human eye. No one from the deck of a +passing vessel could have discovered either the brig hidden among +the reefs, or the men at work among the rocks; they lay below the +ordinary range of the most powerful telescope. Eleven days were +spent in preparation, before the Thirteen, with all their +infernal power, could reach the foot of the cliffs. The body of +the rock rose up straight from the sea to a height of thirty +fathoms. Any attempt to climb the sheer wall of granite seemed +impossible; a mouse might as well try to creep up the slippery +sides of a plain china vase. Still there was a cleft, a straight +line of fissure so fortunately placed that large blocks of wood +could be wedged firmly into it at a distance of about a foot +apart. Into these blocks the daring workers drove iron cramps, +specially made for the purpose, with a broad iron bracket at the +outer end, through which a hole had been drilled. Each bracket +carried a light deal board which corresponded with a notch made +in a pole that reached to the top of the cliffs, and was firmly +planted in the beach at their feet. With ingenuity worthy of +these men who found nothing impossible, one of their number, a +skilled mathematician, had calculated the angle from which the +steps must start; so that from the middle they rose gradually, +like the sticks of a fan, to the top of the cliff, and descended +in the same fashion to its base. That miraculously light, yet +perfectly firm, staircase cost them twenty-two days of toil. A +little tinder and the surf of the sea would destroy all trace of +it forever in a single night. A betrayal of the secret was +impossible; and all search for the violators of the convent was +doomed to failure. + +At the top of the rock there was a platform with sheer precipice +on all sides. The Thirteen, reconnoitring the ground with their +glasses from the masthead, made certain that though the ascent +was steep and rough, there would be no difficulty in gaining the +convent garden, where the trees were thick enough for a +hiding-place. After such great efforts they would not risk the +success of their enterprise, and were compelled to wait till the +moon passed out of her last quarter. + +For two nights Montriveau, wrapped in his cloak, lay out on the +rock platform. The singing at vespers and matins filled him with +unutterable joy. He stood under the wall to hear the music of +the organ, listening intently for one voice among the rest. But +in spite of the silence, the confused effect of music was all +that reached his ears. In those sweet harmonies defects of +execution are lost; the pure spirit of art comes into direct +communication with the spirit of the hearer, making no demand on +the attention, no strain on the power of listening. Intolerable +memories awoke. All the love within him seemed to break into +blossom again at the breath of that music; he tried to find +auguries of happiness in the air. During the last night he sat +with his eyes fixed upon an ungrated window, for bars were not +needed on the side of the precipice. A light shone there all +through the hours; and that instinct of the heart, which is +sometimes true, and as often false, cried within him, "She is +there!" + +"She is certainly there! Tomorrow she will be mine," he said +to himself, and joy blended with the slow tinkling of a bell that +began to ring. + +Strange unaccountable workings of the heart! The nun, wasted by +yearning love, worn out with tears and fasting, prayer and +vigils; the woman of nine-and-twenty, who had passed through +heavy trials, was loved more passionately than the lighthearted +girl, the woman of four-and-twenty, the sylphide, had ever been. +But is there not, for men of vigorous character, something +attractive in the sublime expression engraven on women's faces by +the impetuous stirrings of thought and misfortunes of no ignoble +kind? Is there not a beauty of suffering which is the most +interesting of all beauty to those men who feel that within them +there is an inexhaustible wealth of tenderness and consoling pity +for a creature so gracious in weakness, so strong with love? It +is the ordinary nature that is attracted by young, smooth, +pink-and-white beauty, or, in one word, by prettiness. In some +faces love awakens amid the wrinkles carved by sorrow and the +ruin made by melancholy; Montriveau could not but feel drawn to +these. For cannot a lover, with the voice of a great longing, +call forth a wholly new creature? a creature athrob with the life +but just begun breaks forth for him alone, from the outward form +that is fair for him, and faded for all the world besides. Does +he not love two women?--One of them, as others see her, is pale +and wan and sad; but the other, the unseen love that his heart +knows, is an angel who understands life through feeling, and is +adorned in all her glory only for love's high festivals. + +The General left his post before sunrise, but not before he had +heard voices singing together, sweet voices full of tenderness +sounding faintly from the cell. When he came down to the foot of +the cliffs where his friends were waiting, he told them that +never in his life had he felt such enthralling bliss, and in the +few words there was that unmistakable thrill of repressed strong +feeling, that magnificent utterance which all men respect. + +That night eleven of his devoted comrades made the ascent in the +darkness. Each man carried a poniard, a provision of chocolate, +and a set of house-breaking tools. They climbed the outer walls +with scaling-ladders, and crossed the cemetery of the convent. +Montriveau recognised the long, vaulted gallery through which he +went to the parlour, and remembered the windows of the room. His +plans were made and adopted in a moment. They would effect an +entrance through one of the windows in the Carmelite's half of +the parlour, find their way along the corridors, ascertain +whether the sister's names were written on the doors, find Sister +Theresa's cell, surprise her as she slept, and carry her off, +bound and gagged. The programme presented no difficulties to men +who combined boldness and a convict's dexterity with the +knowledge peculiar to men of the world, especially as they would +not scruple to give a stab to ensure silence. + +In two hours the bars were sawn through. Three men stood on +guard outside, and two inside the parlour. The rest, barefooted, +took up their posts along the corridor. Young Henri de Marsay, +the most dexterous man among them, disguised by way of precaution +in a Carmelite's robe, exactly like the costume of the convent, +led the way, and Montriveau came immediately behind him. The +clock struck three just as the two men reached the dormitory +cells. They soon saw the position. Everything was perfectly +quiet. With the help of a dark lantern they read the names +luckily written on every door, together with the picture of a +saint or saints and the mystical words which every nun takes as a +kind of motto for the beginning of her new life and the +revelation of her last thought. Montriveau reached Sister +Theresa's door and read the inscription, Sub invocatione sanctae +matris Theresae, and her motto, Adoremus in aeternum. Suddenly +his companion laid a hand on his shoulder. A bright light was +streaming through the chinks of the door. M. de Ronquerolles +came up at that moment. + +"All the nuns are in the church," he said; "they are beginning +the Office for the Dead." + +"I will stay here," said Montriveau. "Go back into the +parlour, and shut the door at the end of the passage." + +He threw open the door and rushed in, preceded by his disguised +companion, who let down the veil over his face. + +There before them lay the dead Duchess; her plank bed had been +laid on the floor of the outer room of her cell, between two +lighted candles. Neither Montriveau nor de Marsay spoke a word +or uttered a cry; but they looked into each other's faces. The +General's dumb gesture tried to say, "Let us carry her away!" + +"Quickly" shouted Ronquerolles, "the procession of nuns is +leaving the church. You will be caught!" + +With magical swiftness of movement, prompted by an intense +desire, the dead woman was carried into the convent parlour, +passed through the window, and lowered from the walls before the +Abbess, followed by the nuns, returned to take up Sister +Theresa's body. The sister left in charge had imprudently left +her post; there were secrets that she longed to know; and so busy +was she ransacking the inner room, that she heard nothing, and +was horrified when she came back to find that the body was gone. +Before the women, in their blank amazement, could think of making +a search, the Duchess had been lowered by a cord to the foot of +the crags, and Montriveau's companions had destroyed all traces +of their work. By nine o'clock that morning there was not a sign +to show that either staircase or wire-cables had ever existed, +and Sister Theresa's body had been taken on board. The brig came +into the port to ship her crew, and sailed that day. + +Montriveau, down in the cabin, was left alone with Antoinette de +Navarreins. For some hours it seemed as if her dead face was +transfigured for him by that unearthly beauty which the calm of +death gives to the body before it perishes. + +"Look here," said Ronquerolles when Montriveau reappeared on +deck, "THAT was a woman once, now it is nothing. Let us tie a +cannon ball to both feet and throw the body overboard; and if +ever you think of her again, think of her as of some book that +you read as a boy." + +"Yes," assented Montriveau, "it is nothing now but a dream." + +"That is sensible of you. Now, after this, have passions; but +as for love, a man ought to know how to place it wisely; it is +only a woman's last love that can satisfy a man's first love." + + + +ADDENDUM + + The Duchesse de Langeais is the second part of the trilogy. Part + one is entitled Ferragus and part three is The Girl with the + Golden Eyes. In other addendum references all three stories + are usually combined under the title The Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Blamont-Chauvry, Princesse de + Madame Firmiani + The Lily of the Valley + +Grandlieu, Duc Ferdinand de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Bachelor's Establishment + Modeste Mignon + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + +Keller, Madame Francois + Domestic Peace + The Member for Arcis + +Langeais, Duc de + An Episode under the Terror + +Langeais, Duchesse Antoinette de + Father Goriot + Ferragus + +Marsay, Henri de + Ferragus + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + +Montriveau, General Marquis Armand de + Father Goriot + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Another Study of Woman + Pierrette + The Member for Arcis + +Navarreins, Duc de + A Bachelor's Establishment + Colonel Chabert + The Muse of the Department + Jealousies of a Country Town + The Peasantry + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + The Country Parson + The Magic Skin + The Gondreville Mystery + The Secrets of a Princess + Cousin Betty + +Nucingen, Baronne Delphine de + Father Goriot + Eugenie Grandet + Cesar Birotteau + Melmoth Reconciled + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + The Commission in Lunacy + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Modeste Mignon + The Firm of Nucingen + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + The Member for Arcis + +Pamiers, Vidame de + Ferragus + Jealousies of a Country Town + +Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + Ferragus + The Girl with the Golden Eyes + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + The Member for Arcis + +Serizy, Comtesse de + A Start in Life + Ferragus + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + Another Study of Woman + The Imaginary Mistress + +Soulanges, Comtesse Hortense de + Domestic Peace + The Peasantry + + + + III. + + + + THE GIRL WITH THE GOLDEN EYES + + By HONORE DE BALZAC + + + Translated by Ellen Marriage + + + + DEDICATION + + To Eugene Delacroix, Painter. + + + +One of those sights in which most horror is to be encountered is, +surely, the general aspect of the Parisian populace--a people fearful +to behold, gaunt, yellow, tawny. Is not Paris a vast field in +perpetual turmoil from a storm of interests beneath which are whirled +along a crop of human beings, who are, more often than not, reaped by +death, only to be born again as pinched as ever, men whose twisted and +contorted faces give out at every pore the instinct, the desire, the +poisons with which their brains are pregnant; not faces so much as +masks; masks of weakness, masks of strength, masks of misery, masks of +joy, masks of hypocrisy; all alike worn and stamped with the indelible +signs of a panting cupidity? What is it they want? Gold or pleasure? A +few observations upon the soul of Paris may explain the causes of its +cadaverous physiognomy, which has but two ages--youth and decay: +youth, wan and colorless; decay, painted to seem young. In looking at +this excavated people, foreigners, who are not prone to reflection, +experience at first a movement of disgust towards the capital, that +vast workshop of delights, from which, in a short time, they cannot +even extricate themselves, and where they stay willingly to be +corrupted. A few words will suffice to justify physiologically the +almost infernal hue of Parisian faces, for it is not in mere sport +that Paris has been called a hell. Take the phrase for truth. There +all is smoke and fire, everything gleams, crackles, flames, +evaporates, dies out, then lights up again, with shooting sparks, and +is consumed. In no other country has life ever been more ardent or +acute. The social nature, even in fusion, seems to say after each +completed work: "Pass on to another!" just as Nature says herself. +Like Nature herself, this social nature is busied with insects and +flowers of a day--ephemeral trifles; and so, too, it throws up fire +and flame from its eternal crater. Perhaps, before analyzing the +causes which lend a special physiognomy to each tribe of this +intelligent and mobile nation, the general cause should be pointed out +which bleaches and discolors, tints with blue or brown individuals in +more or less degree. + +By dint of taking interest in everything, the Parisian ends by being +interested in nothing. No emotion dominating his face, which friction +has rubbed away, it turns gray like the faces of those houses upon +which all kinds of dust and smoke have blown. In effect, the Parisian, +with his indifference on the day for what the morrow will bring forth, +lives like a child, whatever may be his age. He grumbles at +everything, consoles himself for everything, jests at everything, +forgets, desires, and tastes everything, seizes all with passion, +quits all with indifference--his kings, his conquests, his glory, his +idols of bronze or glass--as he throws away his stockings, his hats, +and his fortune. In Paris no sentiment can withstand the drift of +things, and their current compels a struggle in which the passions are +relaxed: there love is a desire, and hatred a whim; there's no true +kinsman but the thousand-franc note, no better friend than the +pawnbroker. This universal toleration bears its fruits, and in the +salon, as in the street, there is no one /de trop/, there is no one +absolutely useful, or absolutely harmful--knaves or fools, men of wit +or integrity. There everything is tolerated: the government and the +guillotine, religion and the cholera. You are always acceptable to +this world, you will never be missed by it. What, then, is the +dominating impulse in this country without morals, without faith, +without any sentiment, wherein, however, every sentiment, belief, and +moral has its origin and end? It is gold and pleasure. Take those two +words for a lantern, and explore that great stucco cage, that hive +with its black gutters, and follow the windings of that thought which +agitates, sustains, and occupies it! Consider! And, in the first +place, examine the world which possesses nothing. + +The artisan, the man of the proletariat, who uses his hands, his +tongue, his back, his right arm, his five fingers, to live--well, this +very man, who should be the first to economize his vital principle, +outruns his strength, yokes his wife to some machine, wears out his +child, and ties him to the wheel. The manufacturer--or I know not what +secondary thread which sets in motion all these folk who with their +foul hands mould and gild porcelain, sew coats and dresses, beat out +iron, turn wood and steel, weave hemp, festoon crystal, imitate +flowers, work woolen things, break in horses, dress harness, carve in +copper, paint carriages, blow glass, corrode the diamond, polish +metals, turn marble into leaves, labor on pebbles, deck out thought, +tinge, bleach, or blacken everything--well, this middleman has come to +that world of sweat and good-will, of study and patience, with +promises of lavish wages, either in the name of the town's caprices or +with the voice of the monster dubbed speculation. Thus, these +/quadrumanes/ set themselves to watch, work, and suffer, to fast, +sweat, and bestir them. Then, careless of the future, greedy of +pleasure, counting on their right arm as the painter on his palette, +lords for one day, they throw their money on Mondays to the /cabarets/ +which gird the town like a belt of mud, haunts of the most shameless +of the daughters of Venus, in which the periodical money of this +people, as ferocious in their pleasures as they are calm at work, is +squandered as it had been at play. For five days, then, there is no +repose for this laborious portion of Paris! It is given up to actions +which make it warped and rough, lean and pale, gush forth with a +thousand fits of creative energy. And then its pleasure, its repose, +are an exhausting debauch, swarthy and black with blows, white with +intoxication, or yellow with indigestion. It lasts but two days, but +it steals to-morrow's bread, the week's soup, the wife's dress, the +child's wretched rags. Men, born doubtless to be beautiful--for all +creatures have a relative beauty--are enrolled from their childhood +beneath the yoke of force, beneath the rule of the hammer, the chisel, +the loom, and have been promptly vulcanized. Is not Vulcan, with his +hideousness and his strength, the emblem of this strong and hideous +nation--sublime in its mechanical intelligence, patient in its season, +and once in a century terrible, inflammable as gunpowder, and ripe +with brandy for the madness of revolution, with wits enough, in fine, +to take fire at a captious word, which signifies to it always: Gold +and Pleasure! If we comprise in it all those who hold out their hands +for an alms, for lawful wages, or the five francs that are granted to +every kind of Parisian prostitution, in short, for all the money well +or ill earned, this people numbers three hundred thousand individuals. +Were it not for the /cabarets/, would not the Government be overturned +every Tuesday? Happily, by Tuesday, this people is glutted, sleeps off +its pleasure, is penniless, and returns to its labor, to dry bread, +stimulated by a need of material procreation, which has become a habit +to it. None the less, this people has its phenomenal virtues, its +complete men, unknown Napoleons, who are the type of its strength +carried to its highest expression, and sum up its social capacity in +an existence wherein thought and movement combine less to bring joy +into it than to neutralize the action of sorrow. + +Chance has made an artisan economical, chance has favored him with +forethought, he has been able to look forward, has met with a wife and +found himself a father, and, after some years of hard privation, he +embarks in some little draper's business, hires a shop. If neither +sickness nor vice blocks his way--if he has prospered--there is the +sketch of this normal life. + +And, in the first place, hail to that king of Parisian activity, to +whom time and space give way. Yes, hail to that being, composed of +saltpetre and gas, who makes children for France during his laborious +nights, and in the day multiplies his personality for the service, +glory, and pleasure of his fellow-citizens. This man solves the +problem of sufficing at once to his amiable wife, to his hearth, to +the /Constitutionnel/, to his office, to the National Guard, to the +opera, and to God; but, only in order that the /Constitutionnel/, his +office, the National Guard, the opera, his wife, and God may be +changed into coin. In fine, hail to an irreproachable pluralist. Up +every day at five o'clock, he traverses like a bird the space which +separates his dwelling from the Rue Montmartre. Let it blow or +thunder, rain or snow, he is at the /Constitutionnel/, and waits there +for the load of newspapers which he has undertaken to distribute. He +receives this political bread with eagerness, takes it, bears it away. +At nine o'clock he is in the bosom of his family, flings a jest to his +wife, snatches a loud kiss from her, gulps down a cup of coffee, or +scolds his children. At a quarter to ten he puts in an appearance at +the /Mairie/. There, stuck upon a stool, like a parrot on its perch, +warmed by Paris town, he registers until four o'clock, with never a +tear or a smile, the deaths and births of an entire district. The +sorrow, the happiness, of the parish flow beneath his pen--as the +essence of the /Constitutionnel/ traveled before upon his shoulders. +Nothing weighs upon him! He goes always straight before him, takes his +patriotism ready made from the newspaper, contradicts no one, shouts +or applauds with the world, and lives like a bird. Two yards from his +parish, in the event of an important ceremony, he can yield his place +to an assistant, and betake himself to chant a requiem from a stall in +the church of which on Sundays he is the fairest ornament, where his +is the most imposing voice, where he distorts his huge mouth with +energy to thunder out a joyous /Amen/. So is he chorister. At four +o'clock, freed from his official servitude, he reappears to shed joy +and gaiety upon the most famous shop in the city. Happy is his wife, +he has no time to be jealous: he is a man of action rather than of +sentiment. His mere arrival spurs the young ladies at the counter; +their bright eyes storm the customers; he expands in the midst of all +the finery, the lace and muslin kerchiefs, that their cunning hands +have wrought. Or, again, more often still, before his dinner he waits +on a client, copies the page of a newspaper, or carries to the +doorkeeper some goods that have been delayed. Every other day, at six, +he is faithful to his post. A permanent bass for the chorus, he +betakes himself to the opera, prepared to become a soldier or an arab, +prisoner, savage, peasant, spirit, camel's leg or lion, a devil or a +genie, a slave or a eunuch, black or white; always ready to feign joy +or sorrow, pity or astonishment, to utter cries that never vary, to +hold his tongue, to hunt, or fight for Rome or Egypt, but always at +heart--a huckster still. + +At midnight he returns--a man, the good husband, the tender father; he +slips into the conjugal bed, his imagination still afire with the +illusive forms of the operatic nymphs, and so turns to the profit of +conjugal love the world's depravities, the voluptuous curves of +Taglioni's leg. And finally, if he sleeps, he sleeps apace, and +hurries through his slumber as he does his life. + +This man sums up all things--history, literature, politics, +government, religion, military science. Is he not a living +encyclopaedia, a grotesque Atlas; ceaselessly in motion, like Paris +itself, and knowing not repose? He is all legs. No physiognomy could +preserve its purity amid such toils. Perhaps the artisan who dies at +thirty, an old man, his stomach tanned by repeated doses of brandy, +will be held, according to certain leisured philosophers, to be +happier than the huckster is. The one perishes in a breath, and the +other by degrees. From his eight industries, from the labor of his +shoulders, his throat, his hands, from his wife and his business, the +one derives--as from so many farms--children, some thousands of +francs, and the most laborious happiness that has ever diverted the +heart of man. This fortune and these children, or the children who sum +up everything for him, become the prey of the world above, to which he +brings his ducats and his daughter or his son, reared at college, who, +with more education than his father, raises higher his ambitious gaze. +Often the son of a retail tradesman would fain be something in the +State. + +Ambition of that sort carries on our thought to the second Parisian +sphere. Go up one story, then, and descend to the /entresol/: or climb +down from the attic and remain on the fourth floor; in fine, penetrate +into the world which has possessions: the same result! Wholesale +merchants, and their men--people with small banking accounts and much +integrity--rogues and catspaws, clerks old and young, sheriffs' +clerks, barristers' clerks, solicitors' clerks; in fine, all the +working, thinking, and speculating members of that lower middle class +which honeycombs the interests of Paris and watches over its granary, +accumulates the coin, stores the products that the proletariat have +made, preserves the fruits of the South, the fishes, the wine from +every sun-favored hill; which stretches its hands over the Orient, and +takes from it the shawls that the Russ and the Turk despise; which +harvests even from the Indies; crouches down in expectation of a sale, +greedy of profit; which discounts bills, turns over and collects all +kinds of securities, holds all Paris in its hand, watches over the +fantasies of children, spies out the caprices and the vices of mature +age, sucks money out of disease. Even so, if they drink no brandy, +like the artisan, nor wallow in the mire of debauch, all equally abuse +their strength, immeasurably strain their bodies and their minds +alike, are burned away with desires, devastated with the swiftness of +the pace. In their case the physical distortion is accomplished +beneath the whip of interests, beneath the scourge of ambitions which +torture the educated portion of this monstrous city, just as in the +case of the proletariat it is brought about by the cruel see-saw of +the material elaborations perpetually required from the despotism of +the aristocratic "/I will/." Here, too, then, in order to obey that +universal master, pleasure or gold, they must devour time, hasten +time, find more than four-and-twenty hours in the day and night, waste +themselves, slay themselves, and purchase two years of unhealthy +repose with thirty years of old age. Only, the working-man dies in +hospital when the last term of his stunted growth expires; whereas the +man of the middle class is set upon living, and lives on, but in a +state of idiocy. You will meet him, with his worn, flat old face, with +no light in his eyes, with no strength in his limbs, dragging himself +with a dazed air along the boulevard--the belt of his Venus, of his +beloved city. What was his want? The sabre of the National Guard, a +permanent stock-pot, a decent plot in Pere Lachaise, and, for his old +age, a little gold honestly earned. /HIS/ Monday is on Sunday, his +rest a drive in a hired carriage--a country excursion during which his +wife and children glut themselves merrily with dust or bask in the +sun; his dissipation is at the restaurateur's, whose poisonous dinner +has won renown, or at some family ball, where he suffocates till +midnight. Some fools are surprised at the phantasmagoria of the monads +which they see with the aid of the microscope in a drop of water; but +what would Rabelais' Gargantua,--that misunderstood figure of an +audacity so sublime,--what would that giant say, fallen from the +celestial spheres, if he amused himself by contemplating the motions +of this secondary life of Paris, of which here is one of the formulae? +Have you seen one of those little constructions--cold in summer, and +with no other warmth than a small stove in winter--placed beneath the +vast copper dome which crowns the Halle-auble? Madame is there by +morning. She is engaged at the markets, and makes by this occupation +twelve thousand francs a year, people say. Monsieur, when Madame is +up, passes into a gloomy office, where he lends money till the week- +end to the tradesmen of his district. By nine o'clock he is at the +passport office, of which he is one of the minor officials. By evening +he is at the box-office of the Theatre Italien, or of any other +theatre you like. The children are put out to nurse, and only return +to be sent to college or to boarding-school. Monsieur and Madame live +on the third floor, have but one cook, give dances in a salon twelve +foot by eight, lit by argand lamps; but they give a hundred and fifty +thousand francs to their daughter, and retire at the age of fifty, an +age when they begin to show themselves on the balcony of the opera, in +a /fiacre/ at Longchamps; or, on sunny days, in faded clothes on the +boulevards--the fruit of all this sowing. Respected by their +neighbors, in good odor with the government, connected with the upper +middle classes, Monsieur obtains at sixty-five the Cross of the Legion +of Honor, and his daughter's father-in-law, a parochial mayor, invites +him to his evenings. These life-long labors, then, are for the good of +the children, whom these lower middle classes are inevitably driven to +exalt. Thus each sphere directs all its efforts towards the sphere +above it. The son of the rich grocer becomes a notary, the son of the +timber merchant becomes a magistrate. No link is wanting in the chain, +and everything stimulates the upward march of money. + +Thus we are brought to the third circle of this hell, which, perhaps, +will some day find its Dante. In this third social circle, a sort of +Parisian belly, in which the interests of the town are digested, and +where they are condensed into the form known as /business/, there +moves and agitates, as by some acrid and bitter intestinal process, +the crowd of lawyers, doctors, notaries, councillors, business men, +bankers, big merchants, speculators, and magistrates. Here are to be +found even more causes of moral and physical destruction than +elsewhere. These people--almost all of them--live in unhealthy +offices, in fetid ante-chambers, in little barred dens, and spend +their days bowed down beneath the weight of affairs; they rise at dawn +to be in time, not to be left behind, to gain all or not to lose, to +overreach a man or his money, to open or wind up some business, to +take advantage of some fleeting opportunity, to get a man hanged or +set him free. They infect their horses, they overdrive and age and +break them, like their own legs, before their time. Time is their +tyrant: it fails them, it escapes them; they can neither expand it nor +cut it short. What soul can remain great, pure, moral, and generous, +and, consequently, what face retain its beauty in this depraving +practice of a calling which compels one to bear the weight of the +public sorrows, to analyze them, to weigh them, estimate them, and +mark them out by rule? Where do these folk put aside their +hearts? . . . I do not know; but they leave them somewhere or other, +when they have any, before they descend each morning into the abyss of +the misery which puts families on the rack. For them there is no such +thing as mystery; they see the reverse side of society, whose +confessors they are, and despise it. Then, whatever they do, owing to +their contact with corruption, they either are horrified at it and +grow gloomy, or else, out of lassitude, or some secret compromise, +espouse it. In fine, they necessarily become callous to every +sentiment, since man, his laws and his institutions, make them steal, +like jackals, from corpses that are still warm. At all hours the +financier is trampling on the living, the attorney on the dead, the +pleader on the conscience. Forced to be speaking without a rest, they +all substitute words for ideas, phrases for feelings, and their soul +becomes a larynx. Neither the great merchant, nor the judge, nor the +pleader preserves his sense of right; they feel no more, they apply +set rules that leave cases out of count. Borne along by their headlong +course, they are neither husbands nor fathers nor lovers; they glide +on sledges over the facts of life, and live at all times at the high +pressure conduced by business and the vast city. When they return to +their homes they are required to go to a ball, to the opera, into +society, where they can make clients, acquaintances, protectors. They +all eat to excess, play and keep vigil, and their faces become +bloated, flushed, and emaciated. + +To this terrific expenditure of intellectual strength, to such +multifold moral contradictions, they oppose--not, indeed pleasure, it +would be too pale a contrast--but debauchery, a debauchery both secret +and alarming, for they have all means at their disposal, and fix the +morality of society. Their genuine stupidity lies hid beneath their +specialism. They know their business, but are ignorant of everything +which is outside it. So that to preserve their self-conceit they +question everything, are crudely and crookedly critical. They appear +to be sceptics and are in reality simpletons; they swamp their wits in +interminable arguments. Almost all conveniently adopt social, +literary, or political prejudices, to do away with the need of having +opinions, just as they adapt their conscience to the standard of the +Code or the Tribunal of Commerce. Having started early to become men +of note, they turn into mediocrities, and crawl over the high places +of the world. So, too, their faces present the harsh pallor, the +deceitful coloring, those dull, tarnished eyes, and garrulous, sensual +mouths, in which the observer recognizes the symptoms of the +degeneracy of the thought and its rotation in the circle of a special +idea which destroys the creative faculties of the brain and the gift +of seeing in large, of generalizing and deducing. No man who has +allowed himself to be caught in the revolutions of the gear of these +huge machines can ever become great. If he is a doctor, either he has +practised little or he is an exception--a Bichat who dies young. If a +great merchant, something remains--he is almost Jacques Coeur. Did +Robespierre practise? Danton was an idler who waited. But who, +moreover has ever felt envious of the figures of Danton and +Robespierre, however lofty they were? These men of affairs, /par +excellence/, attract money to them, and hoard it in order to ally +themselves with aristocratic families. If the ambition of the working- +man is that of the small tradesman, here, too, are the same passions. +The type of this class might be either an ambitious bourgeois, who, +after a life of privation and continual scheming, passes into the +Council of State as an ant passes through a chink; or some newspaper +editor, jaded with intrigue, whom the king makes a peer of France-- +perhaps to revenge himself on the nobility; or some notary become +mayor of his parish: all people crushed with business, who, if they +attain their end, are literally /killed/ in its attainment. In France +the usage is to glorify wigs. Napoleon, Louis XVI., the great rulers, +alone have always wished for young men to fulfil their projects. + +Above this sphere the artist world exists. But here, too, the faces +stamped with the seal of originality are worn, nobly indeed, but worn, +fatigued, nervous. Harassed by a need of production, outrun by their +costly fantasies, worn out by devouring genius, hungry for pleasure, +the artists of Paris would all regain by excessive labor what they +have lost by idleness, and vainly seek to reconcile the world and +glory, money and art. To begin with, the artist is ceaselessly panting +under his creditors; his necessities beget his debts, and his debts +require of him his nights. After his labor, his pleasure. The comedian +plays till midnight, studies in the morning, rehearses at noon; the +sculptor is bent before his statue; the journalist is a marching +thought, like the soldier when at war; the painter who is the fashion +is crushed with work, the painter with no occupation, if he feels +himself to be a man of genius, gnaws his entrails. Competition, +rivalry, calumny assail talent. Some, in desperation, plunge into the +abyss of vice, others die young and unknown because they have +discounted their future too soon. Few of these figures, originally +sublime, remain beautiful. On the other hand, the flagrant beauty of +their heads is not understood. An artist's face is always exorbitant, +it is always above or below the conventional lines of what fools call +the /beau-ideal/. What power is it that destroys them? Passion. Every +passion in Paris resolves into two terms: gold and pleasure. Now, do +you not breathe again? Do you not feel air and space purified? Here is +neither labor nor suffering. The soaring arch of gold has reached the +summit. From the lowest gutters, where its stream commences, from the +little shops where it is stopped by puny coffer-dams, from the heart +of the counting-houses and great workshops, where its volume is that +of ingots--gold, in the shape of dowries and inheritances, guided by +the hands of young girls or the bony fingers of age, courses towards +the aristocracy, where it will become a blazing, expansive stream. +But, before leaving the four territories upon which the utmost wealth +of Paris is based, it is fitting, having cited the moral causes, to +deduce those which are physical, and to call attention to a +pestilence, latent, as it were, which incessantly acts upon the faces +of the porter, the artisan, the small shopkeeper; to point out a +deleterious influence the corruption of which equals that of the +Parisian administrators who allow it so complacently to exist! + +If the air of the houses in which the greater proportion of the middle +classes live is noxious, if the atmosphere of the streets belches out +cruel miasmas into stuffy back-kitchens where there is little air, +realize that, apart from this pestilence, the forty thousand houses of +this great city have their foundations in filth, which the powers that +be have not yet seriously attempted to enclose with mortar walls solid +enough to prevent even the most fetid mud from filtering through the +soil, poisoning the wells, and maintaining subterraneously to Lutetia +the tradition of her celebrated name. Half of Paris sleeps amidst the +putrid exhalations of courts and streets and sewers. But let us turn +to the vast saloons, gilded and airy; the hotels in their gardens, the +rich, indolent, happy moneyed world. There the faces are lined and +scarred with vanity. There nothing is real. To seek for pleasure is it +not to find /ennui/? People in society have at an early age warped +their nature. Having no occupation other than to wallow in pleasure, +they have speedily misused their sense, as the artisan has misused +brandy. Pleasure is of the nature of certain medical substances: in +order to obtain constantly the same effects the doses must be doubled, +and death or degradation is contained in the last. All the lower +classes are on their knees before the wealthy, and watch their tastes +in order to turn them into vices and exploit them. Thus you see in +these folk at an early age tastes instead of passions, romantic +fantasies and lukewarm loves. There impotence reigns; there ideas have +ceased--they have evaporated together with energy amongst the +affectations of the boudoir and the cajolements of women. There are +fledglings of forty, old doctors of sixty years. The wealthy obtain in +Paris ready-made wit and science--formulated opinions which save them +the need of having wit, science, or opinion of their own. The +irrationality of this world is equaled by its weakness and its +licentiousness. It is greedy of time to the point of wasting it. Seek +in it for affection as little as for ideas. Its kisses conceal a +profound indifference, its urbanity a perpetual contempt. It has no +other fashion of love. Flashes of wit without profundity, a wealth of +indiscretion, scandal, and above all, commonplace. Such is the sum of +its speech; but these happy fortunates pretend that they do not meet +to make and repeat maxims in the manner of La Rochefoucauld as though +there did not exist a mean, invented by the eighteenth century, +between a superfluity and absolute blank. If a few men of character +indulge in witticism, at once subtle and refined, they are +misunderstood; soon, tired of giving without receiving, they remain at +home, and leave fools to reign over their territory. This hollow life, +this perpetual expectation of a pleasure which never comes, this +permanent /ennui/ and emptiness of soul, heart, and mind, the +lassitude of the upper Parisian world, is reproduced on its features, +and stamps its parchment faces, its premature wrinkles, that +physiognomy of the wealthy upon which impotence has set its grimace, +in which gold is mirrored, and whence intelligence has fled. + +Such a view of moral Paris proves that physical Paris could not be +other than it is. This coroneted town is like a queen, who, being +always with child, has desires of irresistible fury. Paris is the +crown of the world, a brain which perishes of genius and leads human +civilization; it is a great man, a perpetually creative artist, a +politician with second-sight who must of necessity have wrinkles on +his forehead, the vices of a great man, the fantasies of the artist, +and the politician's disillusions. Its physiognomy suggests the +evolution of good and evil, battle and victory; the moral combat of +'89, the clarion calls of which still re-echo in every corner of the +world; and also the downfall of 1814. Thus this city can no more be +moral, or cordial, or clean, than the engines which impel those proud +leviathans which you admire when they cleave the waves! Is not Paris a +sublime vessel laden with intelligence? Yes, her arms are one of those +oracles which fatality sometimes allows. The /City of Paris/ has her +great mast, all of bronze, carved with victories, and for watchman-- +Napoleon. The barque may roll and pitch, but she cleaves the world, +illuminates it through the hundred mouths of her tribunes, ploughs the +seas of science, rides with full sail, cries from the height of her +tops, with the voice of her scientists and artists: "Onward, advance! +Follow me!" She carries a huge crew, which delights in adorning her +with fresh streamers. Boys and urchins laughing in the rigging; +ballast of heavy /bourgeoisie/; working-men and sailor-men touched +with tar; in her cabins the lucky passengers; elegant midshipmen smoke +their cigars leaning over the bulwarks; then, on the deck, her +soldiers, innovators or ambitious, would accost every fresh shore, and +shooting out their bright lights upon it, ask for glory which is +pleasure, or for love which needs gold. + +Thus the exorbitant movement of the proletariat, the corrupting +influence of the interests which consume the two middle classes, the +cruelties of the artist's thought, and the excessive pleasure which is +sought for incessantly by the great, explain the normal ugliness of +the Parisian physiognomy. It is only in the Orient that the human race +presents a magnificent figure, but that is an effect of the constant +calm affected by those profound philosophers with their long pipes, +their short legs, their square contour, who despise and hold activity +in horror, whilst in Paris the little and the great and the mediocre +run and leap and drive, whipped on by an inexorable goddess, Necessity +--the necessity for money, glory, and amusement. Thus, any face which +is fresh and graceful and reposeful, any really young face, is in +Paris the most extraordinary of exceptions; it is met with rarely. +Should you see one there, be sure it belongs either to a young and +ardent ecclesiastic or to some good abbe of forty with three chins; to +a young girl of pure life such as is brought up in certain middle- +class families; to a mother of twenty, still full of illusions, as she +suckles her first-born; to a young man newly embarked from the +provinces, and intrusted to the care of some devout dowager who keeps +him without a sou; or, perhaps, to some shop assistant who goes to bed +at midnight wearied out with folding and unfolding calico, and rises +at seven o'clock to arrange the window; often again to some man of +science or poetry, who lives monastically in the embrace of a fine +idea, who remains sober, patient, and chaste; else to some self- +contented fool, feeding himself on folly, reeking of health, in a +perpetual state of absorption with his own smile; or to the soft and +happy race of loungers, the only folk really happy in Paris, which +unfolds for them hour by hour its moving poetry. + +Nevertheless, there is in Paris a proportion of privileged beings to +whom this excessive movement of industries, interests, affairs, arts, +and gold is profitable. These beings are women. Although they also +have a thousand secret causes which, here more than elsewhere, destroy +their physiognomy, there are to be found in the feminine world little +happy colonies, who live in Oriental fashion and can preserve their +beauty; but these women rarely show themselves on foot in the streets, +they lie hid like rare plants who only unfold their petals at certain +hours, and constitute veritable exotic exceptions. However, Paris is +essentially the country of contrasts. If true sentiments are rare +there, there also are to be found, as elsewhere, noble friendships and +unlimited devotion. On this battlefield of interests and passions, +just as in the midst of those marching societies where egoism +triumphs, where every one is obliged to defend himself, and which we +call /armies/, it seems as though sentiments liked to be complete when +they showed themselves, and are sublime by juxtaposition. So it is +with faces. In Paris one sometimes sees in the aristocracy, set like +stars, the ravishing faces of young people, the fruit of quite +exceptional manners and education. To the youthful beauty of the +English stock they unite the firmness of Southern traits. The fire of +their eyes, a delicious bloom on their lips, the lustrous black of +their soft locks, a white complexion, a distinguished caste of +features, render them the flowers of the human race, magnificent to +behold against the mass of other faces, worn, old, wrinkled, and +grimacing. So women, too, admire such young people with that eager +pleasure which men take in watching a pretty girl, elegant, gracious, +and embellished with all the virginal charms with which our +imagination pleases to adorn the perfect woman. If this hurried glance +at the population of Paris has enabled us to conceive the rarity of a +Raphaelesque face, and the passionate admiration which such an one +must inspire at the first sight, the prime interest of our history +will have been justified. /Quod erat demonstrandum/--if one may be +permitted to apply scholastic formulae to the science of manners. + +Upon one of those fine spring mornings, when the leaves, although +unfolded, are not yet green, when the sun begins to gild the roofs, +and the sky is blue, when the population of Paris issues from its +cells to swarm along the boulevards, glides like a serpent of a +thousand coils through the Rue de la Paix towards the Tuileries, +saluting the hymeneal magnificence which the country puts on; on one +of these joyous days, then, a young man as beautiful as the day +itself, dressed with taste, easy of manner--to let out the secret he +was a love-child, the natural son of Lord Dudley and the famous +Marquise de Vordac--was walking in the great avenue of the Tuileries. +This Adonis, by name Henri de Marsay, was born in France, when Lord +Dudley had just married the young lady, already Henri's mother, to an +old gentleman called M. de Marsay. This faded and almost extinguished +butterfly recognized the child as his own in consideration of the life +interest in a fund of a hundred thousand francs definitively assigned +to his putative son; a generosity which did not cost Lord Dudley too +dear. French funds were worth at that time seventeen francs, fifty +centimes. The old gentleman died without having ever known his wife. +Madame de Marsay subsequently married the Marquis de Vordac, but +before becoming a marquise she showed very little anxiety as to her +son and Lord Dudley. To begin with, the declaration of war between +France and England had separated the two lovers, and fidelity at all +costs was not, and never will be, the fashion of Paris. Then the +successes of the woman, elegant, pretty, universally adored, crushed +in the Parisienne the maternal sentiment. Lord Dudley was no more +troubled about his offspring than was the mother,--the speedy +infidelity of a young girl he had ardently loved gave him, perhaps, a +sort of aversion for all that issued from her. Moreover, fathers can, +perhaps, only love the children with whom they are fully acquainted, a +social belief of the utmost importance for the peace of families, +which should be held by all the celibate, proving as it does that +paternity is a sentiment nourished artificially by woman, custom, and +the law. + +Poor Henri de Marsay knew no other father than that one of the two who +was not compelled to be one. The paternity of M. de Marsay was +naturally most incomplete. In the natural order, it is but for a few +fleeting instants that children have a father, and M. de Marsay +imitated nature. The worthy man would not have sold his name had he +been free from vices. Thus he squandered without remorse in gambling +hells, and drank elsewhere, the few dividends which the National +Treasury paid to its bondholders. Then he handed over the child to an +aged sister, a Demoiselle de Marsay, who took much care of him, and +provided him, out of the meagre sum allowed by her brother, with a +tutor, an abbe without a farthing, who took the measure of the youth's +future, and determined to pay himself out of the hundred thousand +livres for the care given to his pupil, for whom he conceived an +affection. As chance had it, this tutor was a true priest, one of +those ecclesiastics cut out to become cardinals in France, or Borgias +beneath the tiara. He taught the child in three years what he might +have learned at college in ten. Then the great man, by name the Abbe +de Maronis, completed the education of his pupil by making him study +civilization under all its aspects: he nourished him on his +experience, led him little into churches, which at that time were +closed; introduced him sometimes behind the scenes of theatres, more +often into the houses of courtesans; he exhibited human emotions to +him one by one; taught him politics in the drawing-rooms, where they +simmered at the time, explained to him the machinery of government, +and endeavored out of attraction towards a fine nature, deserted, yet +rich in promise, virilely to replace a mother: is not the Church the +mother of orphans? The pupil was responsive to so much care. The +worthy priest died in 1812, a bishop, with the satisfaction of having +left in this world a child whose heart and mind were so well moulded +that he could outwit a man of forty. Who would have expected to have +found a heart of bronze, a brain of steel, beneath external traits as +seductive as ever the old painters, those naive artists, had given to +the serpent in the terrestrial paradise? Nor was that all. In +addition, the good-natured prelate had procured for the child of his +choice certain acquaintances in the best Parisian society, which might +equal in value, in the young man's hand, another hundred thousand +invested livres. In fine, this priest, vicious but politic, sceptical +yet learned, treacherous yet amiable, weak in appearance yet as +vigorous physically as intellectually, was so genuinely useful to his +pupil, so complacent to his vices, so fine a calculator of all kinds +of strength, so profound when it was needful to make some human +reckoning, so youthful at table, at Frascati, at--I know not where, +that the grateful Henri de Marsay was hardly moved at aught in 1814, +except when he looked at the portrait of his beloved bishop, the only +personal possession which the prelate had been able to bequeath him +(admirable type of the men whose genius will preserve the Catholic, +Apostolic, and Roman Church, compromised for the moment by the +feebleness of its recruits and the decrepit age of its pontiffs; but +if the church likes!). + +The continental war prevented young De Marsay from knowing his real +father. It is doubtful whether he was aware of his name. A deserted +child, he was equally ignorant of Madame de Marsay. Naturally, he had +little regret for his putative father. As for Mademoiselle de Marsay, +his only mother, he built for her a handsome little monument in Pere +Lachaise when she died. Monseigneur de Maronis had guaranteed to this +old lady one of the best places in the skies, so that when he saw her +die happy, Henri gave her some egotistical tears; he began to weep on +his own account. Observing this grief, the abbe dried his pupil's +tears, bidding him observe that the good woman took her snuff most +offensively, and was becoming so ugly and deaf and tedious that he +ought to return thanks for her death. The bishop had emancipated his +pupil in 1811. Then, when the mother of M. de Marsay remarried, the +priest chose, in a family council, one of those honest dullards, +picked out by him through the windows of his confessional, and charged +him with the administration of the fortune, the revenues of which he +was willing to apply to the needs of the community, but of which he +wished to preserve the capital. + +Towards the end of 1814, then, Henri de Marsay had no sentiment of +obligation in the world, and was as free as an unmated bird. Although +he had lived twenty-two years he appeared to be barely seventeen. As a +rule the most fastidious of his rivals considered him to be the +prettiest youth in Paris. From his father, Lord Dudley, he had derived +a pair of the most amorously deceiving blue eyes; from his mother the +bushiest of black hair, from both pure blood, the skin of a young +girl, a gentle and modest expression, a refined and aristocratic +figure, and beautiful hands. For a woman, to see him was to lose her +head for him; do you understand? to conceive one of those desires +which eat the heart, which are forgotten because of the impossibility +of satisfying them, because women in Paris are commonly without +tenacity. Few of them say to themselves, after the fashion of men, the +"/Je Maintiendrai/," of the House of Orange. + +Underneath this fresh young life, and in spite of the limpid springs +in his eyes, Henri had a lion's courage, a monkey's agility. He could +cut a ball in half at ten paces on the blade of a knife; he rode his +horse in a way that made you realize the fable of the Centaur; drove a +four-in-hand with grace; was as light as a cherub and quiet as a lamb, +but knew how to beat a townsman at the terrible game of /savate/ or +cudgels; moreover, he played the piano in a fashion which would have +enabled him to become an artist should he fall on calamity, and owned +a voice which would have been worth to Barbaja fifty thousand francs a +season. Alas, that all these fine qualities, these pretty faults, were +tarnished by one abominable vice: he believed neither in man nor +woman, God nor Devil. Capricious nature had commenced by endowing him, +a priest had completed the work. + +To render this adventure comprehensible, it is necessary to add here +that Lord Dudley naturally found many women disposed to reproduce +samples of such a delicious pattern. His second masterpiece of this +kind was a young girl named Euphemie, born of a Spanish lady, reared +in Havana, and brought to Madrid with a young Creole woman of the +Antilles, and with all the ruinous tastes of the Colonies, but +fortunately married to an old and extremely rich Spanish noble, Don +Hijos, Marquis de San-Real, who, since the occupation of Spain by +French troops, had taken up his abode in Paris, and lived in the Rue +St. Lazare. As much from indifference as from any respect for the +innocence of youth, Lord Dudley was not in the habit of keeping his +children informed of the relations he created for them in all parts. +That is a slightly inconvenient form of civilization; it has so many +advantages that we must overlook its drawbacks in consideration of its +benefits. Lord Dudley, to make no more words of it, came to Paris in +1816 to take refuge from the pursuit of English justice, which +protects nothing Oriental except commerce. The exiled lord, when he +saw Henri, asked who that handsome young man might be. Then, upon +hearing the name, "Ah, it is my son. . . . What a pity!" he said. + +Such was the story of the young man who, about the middle of the month +of April, 1815, was walking indolently up the broad avenue of the +Tuileries, after the fashion of all those animals who, knowing their +strength, pass along in majesty and peace. Middle-class matrons turned +back naively to look at him again; other women, without turning round, +waited for him to pass again, and engraved him in their minds that +they might remember in due season that fragrant face, which would not +have disadorned the body of the fairest among themselves. + +"What are you doing here on Sunday?" said the Marquis de Ronquerolles +to Henri, as he passed. + +"There's a fish in the net," answered the young man. + +This exchange of thoughts was accomplished by means of two significant +glances, without it appearing that either De Ronquerolles or De Marsay +had any knowledge of the other. The young man was taking note of the +passers-by with that promptitude of eye and ear which is peculiar to +the Parisian who seems, at first, to see and hear nothing, but who +sees and hears all. + +At that moment a young man came up to him and took him familiarly by +the arm, saying to him: "How are you, my dear De Marsay?" + +"Extremely well," De Marsay answered, with that air of apparent +affection which amongst the young men of Paris proves nothing, either +for the present or the future. + +In effect, the youth of Paris resemble the youth of no other town. +They may be divided into two classes: the young man who has something, +and the young man who has nothing; or the young man who thinks and he +who spends. But, be it well understood this applies only to those +natives of the soil who maintain in Paris the delicious course of the +elegant life. There exist, as well, plenty of other young men, but +they are children who are late in conceiving Parisian life, and who +remain its dupes. They do not speculate, they study; they /fag/, as +the others say. Finally there are to be found, besides, certain young +people, rich or poor, who embrace careers and follow them with a +single heart; they are somewhat like the Emile of Rousseau, of the +flesh of citizens, and they never appear in society. The diplomatic +impolitely dub them fools. Be they that or no, they augment the number +of those mediocrities beneath the yoke of which France is bowed down. +They are always there, always ready to bungle public or private +concerns with the dull trowel of their mediocrity, bragging of their +impotence, which they count for conduct and integrity. This sort of +social /prizemen/ infests the administration, the army, the +magistracy, the chambers, the courts. They diminish and level down the +country and constitute, in some manner, in the body politic, a lymph +which infects it and renders it flabby. These honest folk call men of +talent immoral or rogues. If such rogues require to be paid for their +services, at least their services are there; whereas the other sort do +harm and are respected by the mob; but, happily for France, elegant +youth stigmatizes them ceaselessly under the name of louts. + +At the first glance, then, it is natural to consider as very distinct +the two sorts of young men who lead the life of elegance, the amiable +corporation to which Henri de Marsay belonged. But the observer, who +goes beyond the superficial aspect of things, is soon convinced that +the difference is purely moral, and that nothing is so deceptive as +this pretty outside. Nevertheless, all alike take precedence over +everybody else; speak rightly or wrongly of things, of men, +literature, and the fine arts; have ever in their mouth the Pitt and +Coburg of each year; interrupt a conversation with a pun, turn into +ridicule science and the /savant/; despise all things which they do +not know or which they fear; set themselves above all by constituting +themselves the supreme judges of all. They would all hoax their +fathers, and be ready to shed crocodile tears upon their mothers' +breasts; but generally they believe in nothing, blaspheme women, or +play at modesty, and in reality are led by some old woman or an evil +courtesan. They are all equally eaten to the bone with calculation, +with depravity, with a brutal lust to succeed, and if you plumbed for +their hearts you would find in all a stone. In their normal state they +have the prettiest exterior, stake their friendship at every turn, are +captivating alike. The same badinage dominates their ever-changing +jargon; they seek for oddity in their toilette, glory in repeating the +stupidities of such and such actor who is in fashion, and commence +operations, it matters not with whom, with contempt and impertinence, +in order to have, as it were, the first move in the game; but, woe +betide him who does not know how to take a blow on one cheek for the +sake of rendering two. They resemble, in fine, that pretty white spray +which crests the stormy waves. They dress and dance, dine and take +their pleasure, on the day of Waterloo, in the time of cholera or +revolution. Finally, their expenses are all the same, but here the +contrast comes in. Of this fluctuating fortune, so agreeably flung +away, some possess the capital for which the others wait; they have +the same tailors, but the bills of the latter are still to pay. Next, +if the first, like sieves, take in ideas of all kinds without +retaining any, the latter compare them and assimilate all the good. If +the first believe they know something, know nothing and understand +everything, lend all to those who need nothing and offer nothing to +those who are in need; the latter study secretly others' thoughts and +place out their money, like their follies, at big interest. The one +class have no more faithful impressions, because their soul, like a +mirror, worn from use, no longer reflects any image; the others +economize their senses and life, even while they seem, like the first, +to be flinging them away broadcast. The first, on the faith of a hope, +devote themselves without conviction to a system which has wind and +tide against it, but they leap upon another political craft when the +first goes adrift; the second take the measure of the future, sound +it, and see in political fidelity what the English see in commercial +integrity, an element of success. Where the young man of possessions +makes a pun or an epigram upon the restoration of the throne, he who +has nothing makes a public calculation or a secret reservation, and +obtains everything by giving a handshake to his friends. The one deny +every faculty to others, look upon all their ideas as new, as though +the world had been made yesterday, they have unlimited confidence in +themselves, and no crueler enemy than those same selves. But the +others are armed with an incessant distrust of men, whom they estimate +at their value, and are sufficiently profound to have one thought +beyond their friends, whom they exploit; then of evenings, when they +lay their heads on their pillows, they weigh men as a miser weighs his +gold pieces. The one are vexed at an aimless impertinence, and allow +themselves to be ridiculed by the diplomatic, who make them dance for +them by pulling what is the main string of these puppets--their +vanity. Thus, a day comes when those who had nothing have something, +and those who had something have nothing. The latter look at their +comrades who have achieved positions as cunning fellows; their hearts +may be bad, but their heads are strong. "He is very strong!" is the +supreme praise accorded to those who have attained /quibuscumque +viis/, political rank, a woman, or a fortune. Amongst them are to be +found certain young men who play this /role/ by commencing with having +debts. Naturally, these are more dangerous than those who play it +without a farthing. + +The young man who called himself a friend of Henri de Marsay was a +rattle-head who had come from the provinces, and whom the young men +then in fashion were teaching the art of running through an +inheritance; but he had one last leg to stand on in his province, in +the shape of a secure establishment. He was simply an heir who had +passed without any transition from his pittance of a hundred francs a +month to the entire paternal fortune, and who, if he had not wit +enough to perceive that he was laughed at, was sufficiently cautious +to stop short at two-thirds of his capital. He had learned at Paris, +for a consideration of some thousands of francs, the exact value of +harness, the art of not being too respectful to his gloves, learned to +make skilful meditations upon the right wages to give people, and to +seek out what bargain was the best to close with them. He set store on +his capacity to speak in good terms of his horses, of his Pyrenean +hound; to tell by her dress, her walk, her shoes, to what class a +woman belonged; to study /ecarte/, remember a few fashionable +catchwords, and win by his sojourn in Parisian society the necessary +authority to import later into his province a taste for tea and silver +of an English fashion, and to obtain the right of despising everything +around him for the rest of his days. + +De Marsay had admitted him to his society in order to make use of him +in the world, just as a bold speculator employs a confidential clerk. +The friendship, real or feigned, of De Marsay was a social position +for Paul de Manerville, who, on his side, thought himself astute in +exploiting, after his fashion, his intimate friend. He lived in the +reflecting lustre of his friend, walked constantly under his umbrella, +wore his boots, gilded himself with his rays. When he posed in Henri's +company or walked at his side, he had the air of saying: "Don't insult +us, we are real dogs." He often permitted himself to remark fatuously: +"If I were to ask Henri for such and such a thing, he is a good enough +friend of mine to do it." But he was careful never to ask anything of +him. He feared him, and his fear, although imperceptible, reacted upon +the others, and was of use to De Marsay. + +"De Marsay is a man of a thousand," said Paul. "Ah, you will see, he +will be what he likes. I should not be surprised to find him one of +these days Minister of Foreign Affairs. Nothing can withstand him." + +He made of De Marsay what Corporal Trim made of his cap, a perpetual +instance. + +"Ask De Marsay and you will see!" + +Or again: + +"The other day we were hunting, De Marsay and I, He would not believe +me, but I jumped a hedge without moving on my horse!" + +Or again: + +"We were with some women, De Marsay and I, and upon my word of honor, +I was----" etc. + +Thus Paul de Manerville could not be classed amongst the great, +illustrious, and powerful family of fools who succeed. He would one +day be a deputy. For the time he was not even a young man. His friend, +De Marsay, defined him thus: "You ask me what is Paul? Paul? Why, Paul +de Manerville!" + +"I am surprised, my dear fellow," he said to De Marsay, "to see you +here on a Sunday." + +"I was going to ask you the same question." + +"Is it an intrigue?" + +"An intrigue." + +"Bah!" + +"I can mention it to you without compromising my passion. Besides, a +woman who comes to the Tuileries on Sundays is of no account, +aristocratically speaking." + +"Ah! ah!" + +"Hold your tongue then, or I shall tell you nothing. Your laugh is too +loud, you will make people think that we have lunched too well. Last +Thursday, here on the Terrasse des Feuillants, I was walking along, +thinking of nothing at all, but when I got to the gate of the Rue de +Castiglione, by which I intended to leave, I came face to face with a +woman, or rather a young girl; who, if she did not throw herself at my +head, stopped short, less I think, from human respect, than from one +of those movements of profound surprise which affect the limbs, creep +down the length of the spine, and cease only in the sole of the feet, +to nail you to the ground. I have often produced effects of this +nature, a sort of animal magnetism which becomes enormously powerful +when the relations are reciprocally precise. But, my dear fellow, this +was not stupefaction, nor was she a common girl. Morally speaking, her +face seemed to say: 'What, is it you, my ideal! The creation of my +thoughts, of my morning and evening dreams! What, are you there? Why +this morning? Why not yesterday? Take me, I am thine, /et cetera/!' +Good, I said to myself, another one! Then I scrutinize her. Ah, my +dear fellow, speaking physically, my incognita is the most adorable +feminine person whom I ever met. She belongs to that feminine variety +which the Romans call /fulva, flava/--the woman of fire. And in chief, +what struck me the most, what I am still taken with, are her two +yellow eyes, like a tiger's, a golden yellow that gleams, living gold, +gold which thinks, gold which loves, and is determined to take refuge +in your pocket." + +"My dear fellow, we are full of her!" cried Paul. "She comes here +sometimes--/the girl with the golden eyes/! That is the name we have +given her. She is a young creature--not more than twenty-two, and I +have seen her here in the time of the Bourbons, but with a woman who +was worth a hundred thousand of her." + +"Silence, Paul! It is impossible for any woman to surpass this girl; +she is like the cat who rubs herself against your legs; a white girl +with ash-colored hair, delicate in appearance, but who must have downy +threads on the third phalanx of her fingers, and all along her cheeks +a white down whose line, luminous on fine days, begins at her ears and +loses itself on her neck." + +"Ah, the other, my dear De Marsay! She has black eyes which have never +wept, but which burn; black eyebrows which meet and give her an air of +hardness contradicted by the compact curve of her lips, on which the +kisses do not stay, lips burning and fresh; a Moorish color that warms +a man like the sun. But--upon my word of honor, she is like you!" + +"You flatter her!" + +"A firm figure, the tapering figure of a corvette built for speed, +which rushes down upon the merchant vessel with French impetuosity, +which grapples with her and sinks her at the same time." + +"After all, my dear fellow," answered De Marsay, "what has that got to +do with me, since I have never seen her? Ever since I have studied +women, my incognita is the only one whose virginal bosom, whose ardent +and voluptuous forms, have realized for me the only woman of my dreams +--of my dreams! She is the original of that ravishing picture called +/La Femme Caressant sa Chimere/, the warmest, the most infernal +inspiration of the genius of antiquity; a holy poem prostituted by +those who have copied it for frescoes and mosiacs; for a heap of +bourgeois who see in this gem nothing more than a gew-gaw and hang it +on their watch-chains--whereas, it is the whole woman, an abyss of +pleasure into which one plunges and finds no end; whereas, it is the +ideal woman, to be seen sometimes in reality in Spain or Italy, almost +never in France. Well, I have again seen this girl of the gold eyes, +this woman caressing her chimera. I saw her on Friday. I had a +presentiment that on the following day she would be here at the same +hour; I was not mistaken. I have taken a pleasure in following her +without being observed, in studying her indolent walk, the walk of the +woman without occupation, but in the movements of which one devines +all the pleasure that lies asleep. Well, she turned back again, she +saw me, once more she adored me, once more trembled, shivered. It was +then I noticed the genuine Spanish duenna who looked after her, a +hyena upon whom some jealous man has put a dress, a she-devil well +paid, no doubt, to guard this delicious creature. . . . Ah, then the +duenna made me deeper in love. I grew curious. On Saturday, nobody. +And here I am to-day waiting for this girl whose chimera I am, asking +nothing better than to pose as the monster in the fresco." + +"There she is," said Paul. "Every one is turning round to look at +her." + +The unknown blushed, her eyes shone; she saw Henri, she shut them and +passed by. + +"You say that she notices you?" cried Paul, facetiously. + +The duenna looked fixedly and attentively at the two young men. When +the unknown and Henri passed each other again, the young girl touched +him, and with her hand pressed the hand of the young man. Then she +turned her head and smiled with passion, but the duenna led her away +very quickly to the gate of the Rue de Castiglione. + +The two friends followed the young girl, admiring the magnificent +grace of the neck which met her head in a harmony of vigorous lines, +and upon which a few coils of hair were tightly wound. The girl with +the golden eyes had that well-knitted, arched, slender foot which +presents so many attractions to the dainty imagination. Moreover, she +was shod with elegance, and wore a short skirt. During her course she +turned from time to time to look at Henri, and appeared to follow the +old woman regretfully, seeming to be at once her mistress and her +slave; she could break her with blows, but could not dismiss her. All +that was perceptible. The two friends reached the gate. Two men in +livery let down the step of a tasteful /coupe/ emblazoned with +armorial bearings. The girl with the golden eyes was the first to +enter it, took her seat at the side where she could be best seen when +the carriage turned, put her hand on the door, and waved her +handkerchief in the duennna's despite. In contempt of what might be +said by the curious, her handkerchief cried to Henri openly: "Follow +me!" + +"Have you ever seen a handkerchief better thrown?" said Henri to Paul +de Manerville. + +Then, observing a fiacre on the point of departure, having just set +down a fare, he made a sign to the driver to wait. + +"Follow that carriage, notice the house and the street where it stops +--you shall have ten francs. . . . Paul, adieu." + +The cab followed the /coupe/. The /coupe/ stopped in the Rue Saint +Lazare before one of the finest houses of the neighborhood. + +De Marsay was not impulsive. Any other young man would have obeyed his +impulse to obtain at once some information about a girl who realized +so fully the most luminous ideas ever expressed upon women in the +poetry of the East; but, too experienced to compromise his good +fortune, he had told his coachman to continue along the Rue Saint +Lazare and carry him back to his house. The next day, his confidential +valet, Laurent by name, as cunning a fellow as the Frontin of the old +comedy, waited in the vicinity of the house inhabited by the unknown +for the hour at which letters were distributed. In order to be able to +spy at his ease and hang about the house, he had followed the example +of those police officers who seek a good disguise, and bought up cast- +off clothes of an Auvergnat, the appearance of whom he sought to +imitate. When the postman, who went the round of the Rue Saint Lazare +that morning, passed by, Laurent feigned to be a porter unable to +remember the name of a person to whom he had to deliver a parcel, and +consulted the postman. Deceived at first by appearances, this +personage, so picturesque in the midst of Parisian civilization, +informed him that the house in which the girl with the golden eyes +dwelt belonged to Don Hijos, Marquis de San-Real, grandee of Spain. +Naturally, it was not with the Marquis that the Auvergnat was +concerned. + +"My parcel," he said, "is for the marquise." + +"She is away," replied the postman. "Her letters are forwarded to +London." + +"Then the marquise is not a young girl who . . . ?" + +"Ah!" said the postman, interrupting the /valet de chambre/ and +observing him attentively, "you are as much a porter as I'm . . ." + +Laurent chinked some pieces of gold before the functionary, who began +to smile. + +"Come, here's the name of your quarry," he said, taking from his +leather wallet a letter bearing a London stamp, upon which the +address, "To Mademoiselle Paquita Valdes, Rue Saint Lazare, Hotel San- +Real, Paris," was written in long, fine characters, which spoke of a +woman's hand. + +"Could you tap a bottle of Chablis, with a few dozen oysters, and a +/filet saute/ with mushrooms to follow it?" said Laurent, who wished +to win the postman's valuable friendship. + +"At half-past nine, when my round is finished---- Where?" + +"At the corner of the Rue de la Chaussee-d'Antin and the Rue Neuve- +des-Mathurins, at the /Puits sans Vin/," said Laurent. + +"Hark ye, my friend," said the postman, when he rejoined the valet an +hour after this encounter, "if your master is in love with the girl, +he is in for a famous task. I doubt you'll not succeed in seeing her. +In the ten years that I've been postman in Paris, I have seen plenty +of different kinds of doors! But I can tell you, and no fear of being +called a liar by any of my comrades, there never was a door so +mysterious as M. de San-Real's. No one can get into the house without +the Lord knows what counter-word; and, notice, it has been selected on +purpose between a courtyard and a garden to avoid any communication +with other houses. The porter is an old Spaniard, who never speaks a +word of French, but peers at people as Vidocq might, to see if they +are not thieves. If a lover, a thief, or you--I make no comparisons-- +could get the better of this first wicket, well, in the first hall, +which is shut by a glazed door, you would run across a butler +surrounded by lackeys, an old joker more savage and surly even than +the porter. If any one gets past the porter's lodge, my butler comes +out, waits for you at the entrance, and puts you through a cross- +examination like a criminal. That has happened to me, a mere postman. +He took me for an eavesdropper in disguise, he said, laughing at his +nonsense. As for the servants, don't hope to get aught out of them; I +think they are mutes, no one in the neighborhood knows the color of +their speech; I don't know what wages they can pay them to keep them +from talk and drink; the fact is, they are not to be got at, whether +because they are afraid of being shot, or that they have some enormous +sum to lose in the case of an indiscretion. If your master is fond +enough of Mademoiselle Paquita Valdes to surmount all these obstacles, +he certainly won't triumph over Dona Concha Marialva, the duenna who +accompanies her and would put her under her petticoats sooner than +leave her. The two women look as if they were sewn to one another." + +"All that you say, worthy postman," went on Laurent, after having +drunk off his wine, "confirms me in what I have learned before. Upon +my word, I thought they were making fun of me! The fruiterer opposite +told me that of nights they let loose dogs whose food is hung up on +stakes just out of their reach. These cursed animals think, therefore, +that any one likely to come in has designs on their victuals, and +would tear one to pieces. You will tell me one might throw them down +pieces, but it seems they have been trained to touch nothing except +from the hand of the porter." + +"The porter of the Baron de Nucingen, whose garden joins at the top +that of the Hotel San-Real, told me the same thing," replied the +postman. + +"Good! my master knows him," said Laurent, to himself. "Do you know," +he went on, leering at the postman, "I serve a master who is a rare +man, and if he took it into his head to kiss the sole of the foot of +an empress, she would have to give in to him. If he had need of you, +which is what I wish for you, for he is generous, could one count on +you?" + +"Lord, Monsieur Laurent, my name is Moinot. My name is written exactly +like /Moineau/, magpie: M-o-i-n-o-t, Moinot." + +"Exactly," said Laurent. + +"I live at No. 11, Rue des Trois Freres, on the fifth floor," went on +Moinot; "I have a wife and four children. If what you want of me +doesn't transgress the limits of my conscience and my official duties, +you understand! I am your man." + +"You are an honest fellow," said Laurent, shaking his hand. . . . + +"Paquita Valdes is, no doubt, the mistress of the Marquis de San-Real, +the friend of King Ferdinand. Only an old Spanish mummy of eighty +years is capable of taking such precautions," said Henri, when his +/valet de chambre/ had related the result of his researches. + +"Monsieur," said Laurent, "unless he takes a balloon no one can get +into that hotel." + +"You are a fool! Is it necessary to get into the hotel to have +Paquita, when Paquita can get out of it?" + +"But, sir, the duenna?" + +"We will shut her up for a day or two, your duenna." + +"So, we shall have Paquita!" said Laurent, rubbing his hands. + +"Rascal!" answered Henri, "I shall condemn you to the Concha, if you +carry your impudence so far as to speak so of a woman before she has +become mine. . . . Turn your thoughts to dressing me, I am going out." + +Henri remained for a moment plunged in joyous reflections. Let us say +it to the praise of women, he obtained all those whom he deigned to +desire. And what could one think of a woman, having no lover, who +should have known how to resist a young man armed with beauty which is +the intelligence of the body, with intelligence which is a grace of +the soul, armed with moral force and fortune, which are the only two +real powers? Yet, in triumphing with such ease, De Marsay was bound to +grow weary of his triumphs; thus, for about two years he had grown +very weary indeed. And diving deep into the sea of pleasures he +brought back more grit than pearls. Thus had he come, like potentates, +to implore of Chance some obstacle to surmount, some enterprise which +should ask the employment of his dormant moral and physical strength. +Although Paquita Valdes presented him with a marvelous concentration +of perfections which he had only yet enjoyed in detail, the attraction +of passion was almost /nil/ with him. Constant satiety had weakened in +his heart the sentiment of love. Like old men and people +disillusioned, he had no longer anything but extravagant caprices, +ruinous tastes, fantasies, which, once satisfied, left no pleasant +memory in his heart. Amongst young people love is the finest of the +emotions, it makes the life of the soul blossom, it nourishes by its +solar power the finest inspirations and their great thoughts; the +first fruits in all things have a delicious savor. Amongst men love +becomes a passion; strength leads to abuse. Amongst old men it turns +to vice; impotence tends to extremes. Henri was at once an old man, a +man, and a youth. To afford him the feelings of a real love, he needed +like Lovelace, a Clarissa Harlowe. Without the magic lustre of that +unattainable pearl he could only have either passions rendered acute +by some Parisian vanity, or set determinations with himself to bring +such and such a woman to such and such a point of corruption, or else +adventures which stimulated his curiosity. + +The report of Laurent, his /valet de chambre/ had just given an +enormous value to the girl with the golden eyes. It was a question of +doing battle with some secret enemy who seemed as dangerous as he was +cunning; and to carry off the victory, all the forces which Henri +could dispose of would be useful. He was about to play in that eternal +old comedy which will be always fresh, and the characters in which are +an old man, a young girl, and a lover: Don Hijos, Paquita, De Marsay. +If Laurent was the equal of Figaro, the duenna seemed incorruptible. +Thus, the living play was supplied by Chance with a stronger plot than +it had ever been by dramatic author! But then is not Chance too, a man +of genius? + +"It must be a cautious game," said Henri, to himself. + +"Well," said Paul de Manerville, as he entered the room. "How are we +getting on? I have come to breakfast with you." + +"So be it," said Henri. "You won't be shocked if I make my toilette +before you?" + +"How absurd!" + +"We take so many things from the English just now that we might well +become as great prudes and hypocrites as themselves," said Henri. + +Laurent had set before his master such a quantity of utensils, so many +different articles of such elegance, that Paul could not refrain from +saying: + +"But you will take a couple of hours over that?" + +"No!" said Henri, "two hours and a half." + +"Well, then, since we are by ourselves, and can say what we like, +explain to me why a man as superior as yourself--for you are superior +--should affect to exaggerate a foppery which cannot be natural. Why +spend two hours and a half in adorning yourself, when it is sufficient +to spend a quarter of an hour in your bath, to do your hair in two +minutes, and to dress! There, tell me your system." + +"I must be very fond of you, my good dunce, to confide such high +thoughts to you," said the young man, who was at that moment having +his feet rubbed with a soft brush lathered with English soap. + +"Have I not the most devoted attachment to you," replied Paul de +Manerville, "and do I not like you because I know your +superiority? . . ." + +"You must have noticed, if you are in the least capable of observing +any moral fact, that women love fops," went on De Marsay, without +replying in any way to Paul's declaration except by a look. "Do you +know why women love fops? My friend, fops are the only men who take +care of themselves. Now, to take excessive care of oneself, does it +not imply that one takes care in oneself of what belongs to another? +The man who does not belong to himself is precisely the man on whom +women are keen. Love is essentially a thief. I say nothing about that +excess of niceness to which they are so devoted. Do you know of any +woman who has had a passion for a sloven, even if he were a remarkable +man? If such a fact has occurred, we must put it to the account of +those morbid affections of the breeding woman, mad fancies which float +through the minds of everybody. On the other hand, I have seen most +remarkable people left in the lurch because of their carelessness. A +fop, who is concerned about his person, is concerned with folly, with +petty things. And what is a woman? A petty thing, a bundle of follies. +With two words said to the winds, can you not make her busy for four +hours? She is sure that the fop will be occupied with her, seeing that +he has no mind for great things. She will never be neglected for +glory, ambition, politics, art--those prostitutes who for her are +rivals. Then fops have the courage to cover themselves with ridicule +in order to please a woman, and her heart is full of gratitude towards +the man who is ridiculous for love. In fine, a fop can be no fop +unless he is right in being one. It is women who bestow that rank. The +fop is love's colonel; he has his victories, his regiment of women at +his command. My dear fellow, in Paris everything is known, and a man +cannot be a fop there /gratis/. You, who have only one woman, and who, +perhaps, are right to have but one, try to act the fop! . . . You will +not even become ridiculous, you will be dead. You will become a +foregone conclusion, one of those men condemned inevitably to do one +and the same thing. You will come to signify /folly/ as inseparably as +M. de La Fayette signifies /America/; M. de Talleyrand, /diplomacy/; +Desaugiers, /song/; M. de Segur, /romance/. If they once forsake their +own line people no longer attach any value to what they do. So, +foppery, my friend Paul, is the sign of an incontestable power over +the female folk. A man who is loved by many women passes for having +superior qualities, and then, poor fellow, it is a question who shall +have him! But do you think it is nothing to have the right of going +into a drawing-room, of looking down at people from over your cravat, +or through your eye-glass, and of despising the most superior of men +should he wear an old-fashioned waistcoat? . . . Laurent, you are +hurting me! After breakfast, Paul, we will go to the Tuileries and see +the adorable girl with the golden eyes." + +When, after making an excellent meal, the two young men had traversed +the Terrasse de Feuillants and the broad walk of the Tuileries, they +nowhere discovered the sublime Paquita Valdes, on whose account some +fifty of the most elegant young men in Paris where to be seen, all +scented, with their high scarfs, spurred and booted, riding, walking, +talking, laughing, and damning themselves mightily. + +"It's a white Mass," said Henri; "but I have the most excellent idea +in the world. This girl receives letters from London. The postman must +be bought or made drunk, a letter opened, read of course, and a love- +letter slipped in before it is sealed up again. The old tyrant, +/crudel tirano/, is certain to know the person who writes the letters +from London, and has ceased to be suspicious of them." + +The day after, De Marsay came again to walk on the Terrasse des +Feuillants, and saw Paquita Valdes; already passion had embellished +her for him. Seriously, he was wild for those eyes, whose rays seemed +akin to those which the sun emits, and whose ardor set the seal upon +that of her perfect body, in which all was delight. De Marsay was on +fire to brush the dress of this enchanting girl as they passed one +another in their walk; but his attempts were always vain. But at one +moment, when he had repassed Paquita and the duenna, in order to find +himself on the same side as the girl of the golden eyes, when he +returned, Paquita, no less impatient, came forward hurriedly, and De +Marsay felt his hand pressed by her in a fashion at once so swift and +so passionately significant that it was as though he had received the +emotions surged up in his heart. When the two lovers glanced at one +another, Paquita seemed ashamed, she dropped her eyes lest she should +meet the eyes of Henri, but her gaze sank lower to fasten on the feet +and form of him whom women, before the Revolution, called /their +conqueror/. + +"I am determined to make this girl my mistress," said Henri to +himself. + +As he followed her along the terrace, in the direction of the Place +Louis XV., he caught sight of the aged Marquis de San-Real, who was +walking on the arm of his valet, stepping with all the precautions due +to gout and decrepitude. Dona Concha, who distrusted Henri, made +Paquita pass between herself and the old man. + +"Oh, for you," said De Marsay to himself, casting a glance of disdain +upon the duenna, "if one cannot make you capitulate, with a little +opium one can make you sleep. We know mythology and the fable of +Argus." + +Before entering the carriage, the golden-eyed girl exchanged certain +glances with her lover, of which the meaning was unmistakable and +which enchanted Henri, but one of them was surprised by the duenna; +she said a few rapid words to Paquita, who threw herself into the +/coupe/ with an air of desperation. For some days Paquita did not +appear in the Tuileries. Laurent, who by his master's orders was on +watch by the hotel, learned from the neighbors that neither the two +women nor the aged marquis had been abroad since the day upon which +the duenna had surprised a glance between the young girl in her charge +and Henri. The bond, so flimsy withal, which united the two lovers was +already severed. + +Some days later, none knew by what means, De Marsay had attained his +end; he had a seal and wax, exactly resembling the seal and wax +affixed to the letters sent to Mademoiselle Valdes from London; paper +similar to that which her correspondent used; moreover, all the +implements and stamps necessary to affix the French and English +postmarks. + +He wrote the following letter, to which he gave all the appearances of +a letter sent from London:-- + + "MY DEAR PAQUITA,--I shall not try to paint to you in words the + passion with which you have inspired me. If, to my happiness, you + reciprocate it, understand that I have found a means of + corresponding with you. My name is Adolphe de Gouges, and I live + at No. 54 Rue de l'Universite. If you are too closely watched to + be able to write to me, if you have neither pen nor paper, I shall + understand it by your silence. If then, to-morrow, you have not, + between eight o'clock in the morning and ten o'clock in the + evening, thrown a letter over the wall of your garden into that of + the Baron de Nucingen, where it will be waited for during the + whole of the day, a man, who is entirely devoted to me, will let + down two flasks by a string over your wall at ten o'clock the next + morning. Be walking there at that hour. One of the two flasks will + contain opium to send your Argus to sleep; it will be sufficient + to employ six drops; the other will contain ink. The flask of ink + is of cut glass; the other is plain. Both are of such a size as + can easily be concealed within your bosom. All that I have already + done, in order to be able to correspond with you, should tell you + how greatly I love you. Should you have any doubt of it, I will + confess to you, that to obtain an interview of one hour with you I + would give my life." + +"At least they believe that, poor creatures!" said De Marsay; "but +they are right. What should we think of a woman who refused to be +beguiled by a love-letter accompanied by such convincing accessories?" + +This letter was delivered by Master Moinot, postman, on the following +day, about eight o'clock in the morning, to the porter of the Hotel +San-Real. + +In order to be nearer to the field of action, De Marsay went and +breakfasted with Paul, who lived in the Rue de la Pepiniere. At two +o'clock, just as the two friends were laughingly discussing the +discomfiture of a young man who had attempted to lead the life of +fashion without a settled income, and were devising an end for him, +Henri's coachman came to seek his master at Paul's house, and +presented to him a mysterious personage who insisted on speaking +himself with his master. + +This individual was a mulatto, who would assuredly have given Talma a +model for the part of Othello, if he had come across him. Never did +any African face better express the grand vengefulness, the ready +suspicion, the promptitude in the execution of a thought, the strength +of the Moor, and his childish lack of reflection. His black eyes had +the fixity of the eyes of a bird of prey, and they were framed, like a +vulture's, by a bluish membrane devoid of lashes. His forehead, low +and narrow, had something menacing. Evidently, this man was under the +yoke of some single and unique thought. His sinewy arm did not belong +to him. + +He was followed by a man whom the imaginations of all folk, from those +who shiver in Greenland to those who sweat in the tropics, would paint +in the single phrase: /He was an unfortunate man/. From this phrase, +everybody will conceive him according to the special ideas of each +country. But who can best imagine his face--white and wrinkled, red at +the extremities, and his long beard. Who will see his lean and yellow +scarf, his greasy shirt-collar, his battered hat, his green frock +coat, his deplorable trousers, his dilapidated waistcoat, his +imitation gold pin, and battered shoes, the strings of which were +plastered in mud? Who will see all that but the Parisian? The +unfortunate man of Paris is the unfortunate man /in toto/, for he has +still enough mirth to know the extent of his misfortune. The mulatto +was like an executioner of Louis XI. leading a man to the gallows. + +"Who has hunted us out these two extraordinary creatures?" said Henri. + +"Faith! there is one of them who makes me shudder," replied Paul. + +"Who are you--you fellow who look the most like a Christian of the +two?" said Henri, looking at the unfortunate man. + +The mulatto stood with his eyes fixed upon the two young men, like a +man who understood nothing, and who sought no less to divine something +from the gestures and movements of the lips. + +"I am a public scribe and interpreter; I live at the Palais de +Justice, and am named Poincet." + +"Good! . . . and this one?" said Henri to Poincet, looking towards the +mulatto. + +"I do not know; he only speaks a sort of Spanish /patois/, and he has +brought me here to make himself understood by you." + +The mulatto drew from his pocket the letter which Henri had written to +Paquita and handed it to him. Henri threw it in the fire. + +"Ah--so--the game is beginning," said Henri to himself. "Paul, leave +us alone for a moment." + +"I translated this letter for him," went on the interpreter, when they +were alone. "When it was translated, he was in some place which I +don't remember. Then he came back to look for me, and promised me two +/louis/ to fetch him here." + +"What have you to say to me, nigger?" asked Henri. + +"I did not translate /nigger/," said the interpreter, waiting for the +mulatto's reply. . . . + +"He said, sir," went on the interpreter, after having listened to the +unknown, "that you must be at half-past ten to-morrow night on the +boulevard Montmartre, near the cafe. You will see a carriage there, in +which you must take your place, saying to the man, who will wait to +open the door for you, the word /cortejo/--a Spanish word, which means +/lover/," added Poincet, casting a glance of congratulation upon +Henri. + +"Good." + +The mulatto was about to bestow the two /louis/, but De Marsay would +not permit it, and himself rewarded the interpreter. As he was paying +him, the mulatto began to speak. + +"What is he saying?" + +"He is warning me," replied the unfortunate, "that if I commit a +single indiscretion he will strangle me. He speaks fair and he looks +remarkably as if he were capable of carrying out his threat." + +"I am sure of it," answered Henri; "he would keep his word." + +"He says, as well," replied the interpreter, "that the person from +whom he is sent implores you, for your sake and for hers, to act with +the greatest prudence, because the daggers which are raised above your +head would strike your heart before any human power could save you +from them." + +"He said that? So much the better, it will be more amusing. You can +come in now, Paul," he cried to his friend. + +The mulatto, who had not ceased to gaze at the lover of Paquita Valdes +with magnetic attention, went away, followed by the interpreter. + +"Well, at last I have an adventure which is entirely romantic," said +Henri, when Paul returned. "After having shared in a certain number I +have finished by finding in Paris an intrigue accompanied by serious +accidents, by grave perils. The deuce! what courage danger gives a +woman! To torment a woman, to try and contradict her--doesn't it give +her the right and the courage to scale in one moment obstacles which +it would take her years to surmount of herself? Pretty creature, jump +then! To die? Poor child! Daggers? Oh, imagination of women! They +cannot help trying to find authority for their little jests. Besides, +can one think of it, Paquita? Can one think of it, my child? The devil +take me, now that I know this beautiful girl, this masterpiece of +nature, is mine, the adventure has lost its charm." + +For all his light words, the youth in Henri had reappeared. In order +to live until the morrow without too much pain, he had recourse to +exorbitant pleasure; he played, dined, supped with his friends; he +drank like a fish, ate like a German, and won ten or twelve thousand +francs. He left the Rocher de Cancale at two o'clock in the morning, +slept like a child, awoke the next morning fresh and rosy, and dressed +to go to the Tuileries, with the intention of taking a ride, after +having seen Paquita, in order to get himself an appetite and dine the +better, and so kill the time. + +At the hour mentioned Henri was on the boulevard, saw the carriage, +and gave the counter-word to a man who looked to him like the mulatto. +Hearing the word, the man opened the door and quickly let down the +step. Henri was so rapidly carried through Paris, and his thoughts +left him so little capacity to pay attention to the streets through +which he passed, that he did not know where the carriage stopped. The +mulatto let him into a house, the staircase of which was quite close +to the entrance. This staircase was dark, as was also the landing upon +which Henri was obliged to wait while the mulatto was opening the door +of a damp apartment, fetid and unlit, the chambers of which, barely +illuminated by the candle which his guide found in the ante-chamber, +seemed to him empty and ill furnished, like those of a house the +inhabitants of which are away. He recognized the sensation which he +had experienced from the perusal of one of those romances of Anne +Radcliffe, in which the hero traverses the cold, sombre, and +uninhabited saloons of some sad and desert spot. + +At last the mulatto opened the door of a /salon/. The condition of the +old furniture and the dilapidated curtains with which the room was +adorned gave it the air of the reception-room of a house of ill fame. +There was the same pretension to elegance, and the same collection of +things in bad taste, of dust and dirt. Upon a sofa covered with red +Utrecht velvet, by the side of a smoking hearth, the fire of which was +buried in ashes, sat an old, poorly dressed woman, her head capped by +one of those turbans which English women of a certain age have +invented and which would have a mighty success in China, where the +artist's ideal is the monstrous. + +The room, the old woman, the cold hearth, all would have chilled love +to death had not Paquita been there, upon an ottoman, in a loose +voluptuous wrapper, free to scatter her gaze of gold and flame, free +to show her arched foot, free of her luminous movements. This first +interview was what every /rendezvous/ must be between persons of +passionate disposition, who have stepped over a wide distance quickly, +who desire each other ardently, and who, nevertheless, do not know +each other. It is impossible that at first there should not occur +certain discordant notes in the situation, which is embarrassing until +the moment when two souls find themselves in unison. + +If desire gives a man boldness and disposes him to lay restraint +aside, the mistress, under pain of ceasing to be woman, however great +may be her love, is afraid of arriving at the end so promptly, and +face to face with the necessity of giving herself, which to many women +is equivalent to a fall into an abyss, at the bottom of which they +know not what they shall find. The involuntary coldness of the woman +contrasts with her confessed passion, and necessarily reacts upon the +most passionate lover. Thus ideas, which often float around souls like +vapors, determine in them a sort of temporary malady. In the sweet +journey which two beings undertake through the fair domains of love, +this moment is like a waste land to be traversed, a land without a +tree, alternatively damp and warm, full of scorching sand, traversed +by marshes, which leads to smiling groves clad with roses, where Love +and his retinue of pleasures disport themselves on carpets of soft +verdure. Often the witty man finds himself afflicted with a foolish +laugh which is his only answer to everything; his wit is, as it were, +suffocated beneath the icy pressure of his desires. It would not be +impossible for two beings of equal beauty, intelligence, and passion +to utter at first nothing but the most silly commonplaces, until +chance, a word, the tremor of a certain glance, the communication of a +spark, should have brought them to the happy transition which leads to +that flowery way in which one does not walk, but where one sways and +at the same time does not lapse. + +Such a state of mind is always in proportion with the violence of the +feeling. Two creatures who love one another weakly feel nothing +similar. The effect of this crisis can even be compared with that +which is produced by the glow of a clear sky. Nature, at the first +view, appears to be covered with a gauze veil, the azure of the +firmament seems black, the intensity of light is like darkness. With +Henri, as with the Spanish girl, there was an equal intensity of +feeling; and that law of statics, in virtue of which two identical +forces cancel each other, might have been true also in the moral +order. And the embarrassment of the moment was singularly increased by +the presence of the old hag. Love takes pleasure or fright at all, all +has meaning for it, everything is an omen of happiness or sorrow for +it. + +This decrepit woman was there like a suggestion of catastrophe, and +represented the horrid fish's tail with which the allegorical geniuses +of Greece have terminated their chimeras and sirens, whose figures, +like all passions, are so seductive, so deceptive. + +Although Henri was not a free-thinker--the phrase is always a mockery +--but a man of extraordinary power, a man as great as a man can be +without faith, the conjunction struck him. Moreover, the strongest men +are naturally the most impressionable, and consequently the most +superstitious, if, indeed, one may call superstition the prejudice of +the first thoughts, which, without doubt, is the appreciation of the +result in causes hidden to other eyes but perceptible to their own. + +The Spanish girl profited by this moment of stupefaction to let +herself fall into the ecstasy of that infinite adoration which seizes +the heart of a woman, when she truly loves and finds herself in the +presence of an idol for whom she has vainly longed. Her eyes were all +joy, all happiness, and sparks flew from them. She was under the +charm, and fearlessly intoxicated herself with a felicity of which she +had dreamed long. She seemed then so marvelously beautiful to Henri, +that all this phantasmagoria of rags and old age, of worn red drapery +and of the green mats in front of the armchairs, the ill-washed red +tiles, all this sick and dilapidated luxury, disappeared. + +The room seemed lit up; and it was only through a cloud that one could +see the fearful harpy fixed and dumb on her red sofa, her yellow eyes +betraying the servile sentiments, inspired by misfortune, or caused by +some vice beneath whose servitude one has fallen as beneath a tyrant +who brutalizes one with the flagellations of his despotism. Her eyes +had the cold glitter of a caged tiger, knowing his impotence and being +compelled to swallow his rage of destruction. + +"Who is that woman?" said Henri to Paquita. + +But Paquita did not answer. She made a sign that she understood no +French, and asked Henri if he spoke English. + +De Marsay repeated his question in English. + +"She is the only woman in whom I can confide, although she has sold me +already," said Paquita, tranquilly. "My dear Adolphe, she is my +mother, a slave bought in Georgia for her rare beauty, little enough +of which remains to-day. She only speaks her native tongue." + +The attitude of this woman and her eagerness to guess from the +gestures of her daughter and Henri what was passing between them, were +suddenly explained to the young man; and this explanation put him at +his ease. + +"Paquita," he said, "are we never to be free then?" + +"Never," she said, with an air of sadness. "Even now we have but a few +days before us." + +She lowered her eyes, looked at and counted with her right hand on the +fingers of her left, revealing so the most beautiful hands which Henri +had ever seen. + +"One, two, three----" + +She counted up to twelve. + +"Yes," she said, "we have twelve days." + +"And after?" + +"After," she said, showing the absorption of a weak woman before the +executioner's axe, and slain in advance, as it were, by a fear which +stripped her of that magnificent energy which Nature seemed to have +bestowed upon her only to aggrandize pleasure and convert the most +vulgar delights into endless poems. "After----" she repeated. Her eyes +took a fixed stare; she seemed to contemplate a threatening object far +away. + +"I do not know," she said. + +"This girl is mad," said Henri to himself, falling into strange +reflections. + +Paquita appeared to him occupied by something which was not himself, +like a woman constrained equally by remorse and passion. Perhaps she +had in her heart another love which she alternately remembered and +forgot. In a moment Henri was assailed by a thousand contradictory +thoughts. This girl became a mystery for him; but as he contemplated +her with the scientific attention of the /blase/ man, famished for new +pleasures, like that Eastern king who asked that a pleasure should be +created for him,--a horrible thirst with which great souls are seized, +--Henri recognized in Paquita the richest organization that Nature had +ever deigned to compose for love. The presumptive play of this +machinery, setting aside the soul, would have frightened any other man +than Henri; but he was fascinated by that rich harvest of promised +pleasures, by that constant variety in happiness, the dream of every +man, and the desire of every loving woman too. He was infuriated by +the infinite rendered palpable, and transported into the most +excessive raptures of which the creature is capable. All that he saw +in this girl more distinctly than he had yet seen it, for she let +herself be viewed complacently, happy to be admired. The admiration of +De Marsay became a secret fury, and he unveiled her completely, +throwing a glance at her which the Spaniard understood as though she +had been used to receive such. + +"If you are not to be mine, mine only, I will kill you!" he cried. + +Hearing this speech, Paquita covered her face in her hands, and cried +naively: + +"Holy Virgin! What have I brought upon myself?" + +She rose, flung herself down upon the red sofa, and buried her head in +the rags which covered the bosom of her mother, and wept there. The +old woman received her daughter without issuing from her state of +immobility, or displaying any emotion. The mother possessed in the +highest degree that gravity of savage races, the impassiveness of a +statue upon which all remarks are lost. Did she or did she not love +her daughter? Beneath that mask every human emotion might brood--good +and evil; and from this creature all might be expected. Her gaze +passed slowly from her daughter's beautiful hair, which covered her +like a mantle, to the face of Henri, which she considered with an +indescribable curiosity. + +She seemed to ask by what fatality he was there, from what caprice +Nature had made so seductive a man. + +"These women are making sport of me," said Henri to himself. + +At that moment Paquita raised her head, cast at him one of those looks +which reach the very soul and consume it. So beautiful seemed she that +he swore he would possess such a treasure of beauty. + +"My Paquita! Be mine!" + +"Wouldst thou kill me?" she said fearfully, palpitating and anxious, +but drawn towards him by an inexplicable force. + +"Kill thee--I!" he said, smiling. + +Paquita uttered a cry of alarm, said a word to the old woman, who +authoritatively seized Henri's hand and that of her daughter. She +gazed at them for a long time, and then released them, wagging her +head in a fashion horribly significant. + +"Be mine--this evening, this moment; follow me, do not leave me! It +must be, Paquita! Dost thou love me? Come!" + +In a moment he had poured out a thousand foolish words to her, with +the rapidity of a torrent coursing between the rocks, and repeating +the same sound in a thousand different forms. + +"It is the same voice!" said Paquita, in a melancholy voice, which De +Marsay could not overhear, "and the same ardor," she added. "So be +it--yes," she said, with an abandonment of passion which no words can +describe. "Yes; but not to-night. To-night Adolphe, I gave too little +opium to La Concha. She might wake up, and I should be lost. At this +moment the whole household believes me to be asleep in my room. In two +days be at the same spot, say the same word to the same man. That man +is my foster-father. Cristemio worships me, and would die in torments +for me before they could extract one word against me from him. +Farewell," she said seizing Henri by the waist and twining round him +like a serpent. + +She pressed him on every side at once, lifted her head to his, and +offered him her lips, then snatched a kiss which filled them both with +such a dizziness that it seemed to Henri as though the earth opened; +and Paquita cried: "Enough, depart!" in a voice which told how little +she was mistress of herself. But she clung to him still, still crying +"Depart!" and brought him slowly to the staircase. There the mulatto, +whose white eyes lit up at the sight of Paquita, took the torch from +the hands of his idol, and conducted Henri to the street. He left the +light under the arch, opened the door, put Henri into the carriage, +and set him down on the Boulevard des Italiens with marvelous +rapidity. It was as though the horses had hell-fire in their veins. + +The scene was like a dream to De Marsay, but one of those dreams +which, even when they fade away, leave a feeling of supernatural +voluptuousness, which a man runs after for the remainder of his life. +A single kiss had been enough. Never had /rendezvous/ been spent in a +manner more decorous or chaste, or, perhaps, more coldly, in a spot of +which the surroundings were more gruesome, in presence of a more +hideous divinity; for the mother had remained in Henri's imagination +like some infernal, cowering thing, cadaverous, monstrous, savagely +ferocious, which the imagination of poets and painters had not yet +conceived. In effect, no /rendezvous/ had ever irritated his senses +more, revealed more audacious pleasures, or better aroused love from +its centre to shed itself round him like an atmosphere. There was +something sombre, mysterious, sweet, tender, constrained, and +expansive, an intermingling of the awful and the celestial, of +paradise and hell, which made De Marsay like a drunken man. + +He was no longer himself, and he was, withal, great enough to be able +to resist the intoxication of pleasure. + +In order to render his conduct intelligible in the catastrophe of this +story, it is needful to explain how his soul had broadened at an age +when young men generally belittle themselves in their relations with +women, or in too much occupation with them. Its growth was due to a +concurrence of secret circumstances, which invested him with a vast +and unsuspected power. + +This young man held in his hand a sceptre more powerful than that of +modern kings, almost all of whom are curbed in their least wishes by +the laws. De Marsay exercised the autocratic power of an Oriental +despot. But this power, so stupidly put into execution in Asia by +brutish men, was increased tenfold by its conjunction with European +intelligence, with French wit--the most subtle, the keenest of all +intellectual instruments. Henri could do what he would in the interest +of his pleasures and vanities. This invisible action upon the social +world had invested him with a real, but secret, majesty, without +emphasis and deriving from himself. He had not the opinion which Louis +XIV. could have of himself, but that which the proudest of the +Caliphs, the Pharoahs, the Xerxes, who held themselves to be of divine +origin, had of themselves when they imitated God, and veiled +themselves from their subjects under the pretext that their looks +dealt forth death. Thus, without any remorse at being at once the +judge and the accuser, De Marsay coldly condemned to death the man or +the woman who had seriously offended him. Although often pronounced +almost lightly, the verdict was irrevocable. An error was a misfortune +similar to that which a thunderbolt causes when it falls upon a +smiling Parisienne in some hackney coach, instead of crushing the old +coachman who is driving her to a /rendezvous/. Thus the bitter and +profound sarcasm which distinguished the young man's conversation +usually tended to frighten people; no one was anxious to put him out. +Women are prodigiously fond of those persons who call themselves +pashas, and who are, as it were accompanied by lions and executioners, +and who walk in a panoply of terror. The result, in the case of such +men, is a security of action, a certitude of power, a pride of gaze, a +leonine consciousness, which makes women realize the type of strength +of which they all dream. Such was De Marsay. + +Happy, for the moment, with his future, he grew young and pliable, and +thought of nothing but love as he went to bed. He dreamed of the girl +with the golden eyes, as the young and passionate can dream. His +dreams were monstrous images, unattainable extravagances--full of +light, revealing invisible worlds, yet in a manner always incomplete, +for an intervening veil changes the conditions of vision. + +For the next and succeeding day Henri disappeared and no one knew what +had become of him. His power only belonged to him under certain +conditions, and, happily for him, during those two days he was a +private soldier in the service of the demon to whom he owed his +talismanic existence. But at the appointed time, in the evening, he +was waiting--and he had not long to wait--for the carriage. The +mulatto approached Henri, in order to repeat to him in French a phrase +which he seemed to have learned by heart. + +"If you wish to come, she told me, you must consent to have your eyes +bandaged." + +And Cristemio produced a white silk handkerchief. + +"No!" said Henri, whose omnipotence revolted suddenly. + +He tried to leap in. The mulatto made a sign, and the carriage drove +off. + +"Yes!" cried De Marsay, furious at the thought of losing a piece of +good fortune which had been promised him. + +He saw, moreover, the impossibility of making terms with a slave whose +obedience was as blind as the hangman's. Nor was it this passive +instrument upon whom his anger could fall. + +The mulatto whistled, the carriage returned. Henri got in hastily. +Already a few curious onlookers had assembled like sheep on the +boulevard. Henri was strong; he tried to play the mulatto. When the +carriage started at a gallop he seized his hands, in order to master +him, and retain, by subduing his attendant, the possession of his +faculties, so that he might know whither he was going. It was a vain +attempt. The eyes of the mulatto flashed from the darkness. The fellow +uttered a cry which his fury stifled in his throat, released himself, +threw back De Marsay with a hand like iron, and nailed him, so to +speak, to the bottom of the carriage; then with his free hand, he drew +a triangular dagger, and whistled. The coachman heard the whistle and +stopped. Henri was unarmed, he was forced to yield. He moved his head +towards the handkerchief. The gesture of submission calmed Cristemio, +and he bound his eyes with a respect and care which manifested a sort +of veneration for the person of the man whom his idol loved. But, +before taking this course, he had placed his dagger distrustfully in +his side pocket, and buttoned himself up to the chin. + +"That nigger would have killed me!" said De Marsay to himself. + +Once more the carriage moved on rapidly. There was one resource still +open to a young man who knew Paris as well as Henri. To know whither +he was going, he had but to collect himself and count, by the number +of gutters crossed, the streets leading from the boulevards by which +the carriage passed, so long as it continued straight along. He could +thus discover into which lateral street it would turn, either towards +the Seine or towards the heights of Montmartre, and guess the name or +position of the street in which his guide should bring him to a halt. +But the violent emotion which his struggle had caused him, the rage +into which his compromised dignity had thrown him, the ideas of +vengeance to which he abandoned himself, the suppositions suggested to +him by the circumstantial care which this girl had taken in order to +bring him to her, all hindered him from the attention, which the blind +have, necessary for the concentration of his intelligence and the +perfect lucidity of his recollection. The journey lasted half an hour. +When the carriage stopped, it was no longer on the street. The mulatto +and the coachman took Henri in their arms, lifted him out, and, +putting him into a sort of litter, conveyed him across a garden. He +could smell its flowers and the perfume peculiar to trees and grass. + +The silence which reigned there was so profound that he could +distinguish the noise made by the drops of water falling from the +moist leaves. The two men took him to a staircase, set him on his +feet, led him by his hands through several apartments, and left him in +a room whose atmosphere was perfumed, and the thick carpet of which he +could feel beneath his feet. + +A woman's hand pushed him on to a divan, and untied the handkerchief +for him. Henri saw Paquita before him, but Paquita in all her womanly +and voluptuous glory. The section of the boudoir in which Henri found +himself described a circular line, softly gracious, which was faced +opposite by the other perfectly square half, in the midst of which a +chimney-piece shone of gold and white marble. He had entered by a door +on one side, hidden by a rich tapestried screen, opposite which was a +window. The semicircular portion was adorned with a real Turkish +divan, that is to say, a mattress thrown on the ground, but a mattress +as broad as a bed, a divan fifty feet in circumference, made of white +cashmere, relieved by bows of black and scarlet silk, arranged in +panels. The top of this huge bed was raised several inches by numerous +cushions, which further enriched it by their tasteful comfort. The +boudoir was lined with some red stuff, over which an Indian muslin was +stretched, fluted after the fashion of Corinthian columns, in plaits +going in and out, and bound at the top and bottom by bands of poppy- +colored stuff, on which were designs in black arabesque. + +Below the muslin the poppy turned to rose, that amorous color, which +was matched by window-curtains, which were of Indian muslin lined with +rose-colored taffeta, and set off with a fringe of poppy-color and +black. Six silver-gilt arms, each supporting two candles, were +attached to the tapestry at an equal distance, to illuminate the +divan. The ceiling, from the middle of which a lustre of unpolished +silver hung, was of a brilliant whiteness, and the cornice was gilded. +The carpet was like an Oriental shawl; it had the designs and recalled +the poetry of Persia, where the hands of slaves had worked on it. The +furniture was covered in white cashmere, relieved by black and poppy- +colored ornaments. The clock, the candelabra, all were in white marble +and gold. The only table there had a cloth of cashmere. Elegant +flower-pots held roses of every kind, flowers white or red. In fine, +the least detail seemed to have been the object of loving thought. +Never had richness hidden itself more coquettishly to become elegance, +to express grace, to inspire pleasure. Everything there would have +warmed the coldest of beings. The caresses of the tapestry, of which +the color changed according to the direction of one's gaze, becoming +either all white or all rose, harmonized with the effects of the light +shed upon the diaphanous tissues of the muslin, which produced an +appearance of mistiness. The soul has I know not what attraction +towards white, love delights in red, and the passions are flattered by +gold, which has the power of realizing their caprices. Thus all that +man possesses within him of vague and mysterious, all his inexplicable +affinities, were caressed in their involuntary sympathies. There was +in this perfect harmony a concert of color to which the soul responded +with vague and voluptuous and fluctuating ideas. + +It was out of a misty atmosphere, laden with exquisite perfumes, that +Paquita, clad in a white wrapper, her feet bare, orange blossoms in +her black hair, appeared to Henri, knelt before him, adoring him as +the god of this temple, whither he had deigned to come. Although De +Marsay was accustomed to seeing the utmost efforts of Parisian luxury, +he was surprised at the aspect of this shell, like that from which +Venus rose out of the sea. Whether from an effect of contrast between +the darkness from which he issued and the light which bathed his soul, +whether from a comparison which he swiftly made between this scene and +that of their first interview, he experienced one of those delicate +sensations which true poetry gives. Perceiving in the midst of this +retreat, which had been opened to him as by a fairy's magic wand, the +masterpiece of creation, this girl, whose warmly colored tints, whose +soft skin--soft, but slightly gilded by the shadows, by I know not +what vaporous effusion of love--gleamed as though it reflected the +rays of color and light, his anger, his desire for vengeance, his +wounded vanity, all were lost. + +Like an eagle darting on his prey, he took her utterly to him, set her +on his knees, and felt with an indescribable intoxication the +voluptuous pressure of this girl, whose richly developed beauties +softly enveloped him. + +"Come to me, Paquita!" he said, in a low voice. + +"Speak, speak without fear!" she said. "This retreat was built for +love. No sound can escape from it, so greatly was it desired to guard +avariciously the accents and music of the beloved voice. However loud +should be the cries, they would not be heard without these walls. A +person might be murdered, and his moans would be as vain as if he were +in the midst of the great desert." + +"Who has understood jealousy and its needs so well?" + +"Never question me as to that," she answered, untying with a gesture +of wonderful sweetness the young man's scarf, doubtless in order the +better to behold his neck. + +"Yes, there is the neck I love so well!" she said. "Wouldst thou +please me?" + +This interrogation, rendered by the accent almost lascivious, drew De +Marsay from the reverie in which he had been plunged by Paquita's +authoritative refusal to allow him any research as to the unknown +being who hovered like a shadow about them. + +"And if I wished to know who reigns here?" + +Paquita looked at him trembling. + +"It is not I, then?" he said, rising and freeing himself from the +girl, whose head fell backwards. "Where I am, I would be alone." + +"Strike, strike! . . ." said the poor slave, a prey to terror. + +"For what do you take me, then? . . . Will you answer?" + +Paquita got up gently, her eyes full of tears, took a poniard from one +of the two ebony pieces of furniture, and presented it to Henri with a +gesture of submission which would have moved a tiger. + +"Give me a feast such as men give when they love," she said, "and +whilst I sleep, slay me, for I know not how to answer thee. Hearken! I +am bound like some poor beast to a stake; I am amazed that I have been +able to throw a bridge over the abyss which divides us. Intoxicate me, +then kill me! Ah, no, no!" she cried, joining her hands, "do not kill +me! I love life! Life is fair to me! If I am a slave, I am a queen +too. I could beguile you with words, tell you that I love you alone, +prove it to you, profit by my momentary empire to say to you: 'Take me +as one tastes the perfume of a flower when one passes it in a king's +garden.' Then, after having used the cunning eloquence of woman and +soared on the wings of pleasure, after having quenched my thirst, I +could have you cast into a pit, where none could find you, which has +been made to gratify vengeance without having to fear that of the law, +a pit full of lime which would kindle and consume you, until no +particle of you were left. You would stay in my heart, mine forever." + +Henri looked at the girl without trembling, and this fearless gaze +filled her with joy. + +"No, I shall not do it! You have fallen into no trap here, but upon +the heart of a woman who adores you, and it is I who will be cast into +the pit." + +"All this appears to me prodigiously strange," said De Marsay, +considering her. "But you seem to me a good girl, a strange nature; +you are, upon my word of honor, a living riddle, the answer to which +is very difficult to find." + +Paquita understood nothing of what the young man said; she looked at +him gently, opening wide eyes which could never be stupid, so much was +pleasure written in them. + +"Come, then, my love," she said, returning to her first idea, "wouldst +thou please me?" + +"I would do all that thou wouldst, and even that thou wouldst not," +answered De Marsay, with a laugh. He had recovered his foppish ease, +as he took the resolve to let himself go to the climax of his good +fortune, looking neither before nor after. Perhaps he counted, +moreover, on his power and his capacity of a man used to adventures, +to dominate this girl a few hours later and learn all her secrets. + +"Well," said she, "let me arrange you as I would like." + +Paquita went joyously and took from one of the two chests a robe of +red velvet, in which she dressed De Marsay, then adorned his head with +a woman's bonnet and wrapped a shawl round him. Abandoning herself to +these follies with a child's innocence, she laughed a convulsive +laugh, and resembled some bird flapping its wings; but he saw nothing +beyond. + +If it be impossible to paint the unheard-of delights which these two +creatures--made by heaven in a joyous moment--found, it is perhaps +necessary to translate metaphysically the extraordinary and almost +fantastic impressions of the young man. That which persons in the +social position of De Marsay, living as he lived, are best able to +recognize is a girl's innocence. But, strange phenomenon! The girl of +the golden eyes might be virgin, but innocent she was certainly not. +The fantastic union of the mysterious and the real, of darkness and +light, horror and beauty, pleasure and danger, paradise and hell, +which had already been met with in this adventure, was resumed in the +capricious and sublime being with which De Marsay dallied. All the +utmost science or the most refined pleasure, all that Henri could know +of that poetry of the senses which is called love, was excelled by the +treasures poured forth by this girl, whose radiant eyes gave the lie +to none of the promises which they made. + +She was an Oriental poem, in which shone the sun that Saadi, that +Hafiz, have set in their pulsing strophes. Only, neither the rhythm of +Saadi, nor that of Pindar, could have expressed the ecstasy--full of +confusion and stupefaction--which seized the delicious girl when the +error in which an iron hand had caused her to live was at an end. + +"Dead!" she said, "I am dead, Adolphe! Take me away to the world's +end, to an island where no one knows us. Let there be no traces of our +flight! We should be followed to the gates of hell. God! here is the +day! Escape! Shall I ever see you again? Yes, to-morrow I will see +you, if I have to deal death to all my warders to have that joy. Till +to-morrow." + +She pressed him in her arms with an embrace in which the terror of +death mingled. Then she touched a spring, which must have been in +connection with a bell, and implored De Marsay to permit his eyes to +be bandaged. + +"And if I would not--and if I wished to stay here?" + +"You would be the death of me more speedily," she said, "for now I +know I am certain to die on your account." + +Henri submitted. In the man who had just gorged himself with pleasure +there occurs a propensity to forgetfulness, I know not what +ingratitude, a desire for liberty, a whim to go elsewhere, a tinge of +contempt and, perhaps, of disgust for his idol; in fine, indescribable +sentiments which render him ignoble and ashamed. The certainty of this +confused, but real, feeling in souls who are not illuminated by that +celestial light, nor perfumed with that holy essence from which the +performance of sentiment springs, doubtless suggested to Rousseau the +adventures of Lord Edward, which conclude the letters of the /Nouvelle +Heloise/. If Rousseau is obviously inspired by the work of Richardson, +he departs from it in a thousand details, which leave his achievement +magnificently original; he has recommended it to posterity by great +ideas which it is difficult to liberate by analysis, when, in one's +youth, one reads this work with the object of finding in it the lurid +representation of the most physical of our feelings, whereas serious +and philosophical writers never employ its images except as the +consequence or the corollary of a vast thought; and the adventures of +Lord Edward are one of the most Europeanly delicate ideas of the whole +work. + +Henri, therefore, found himself beneath the domination of that +confused sentiment which is unknown to true love. There was needful, +in some sort, the persuasive grip of comparisons, and the irresistible +attraction of memories to lead him back to a woman. True love rules +above all through recollection. A woman who is not engraven upon the +soul by excess of pleasure or by strength of emotion, how can she ever +be loved? In Henri's case, Paquita had established herself by both of +these reasons. But at this moment, seized as he was by the satiety of +his happiness, that delicious melancholy of the body, he could hardly +analyze his heart, even by recalling to his lips the taste of the +liveliest gratifications that he had ever grasped. + +He found himself on the Boulevard Montmartre at the break of day, +gazed stupidly at the retreating carriage, produced two cigars from +his pocket, lit one from the lantern of a good woman who sold brandy +and coffee to workmen and street arabs and chestnut venders--to all +the Parisian populace which begins its work before daybreak; then he +went off, smoking his cigar, and putting his hands in his trousers' +pockets with a devil-may-care air which did him small honor. + +"What a good thing a cigar is! That's one thing a man will never tire +of," he said to himself. + +Of the girl with the golden eyes, over whom at that time all the +elegant youth of Paris was mad, he hardly thought. The idea of death, +expressed in the midst of their pleasure, and the fear of which had +more than once darkened the brow of that beautiful creature, who held +to the houris of Asia by her mother, to Europe by her education, to +the tropics by her birth, seemed to him merely one of those deceptions +by which women seek to make themselves interesting. + +"She is from Havana--the most Spanish region to be found in the New +World. So she preferred to feign terror rather than cast in my teeth +indisposition or difficulty, coquetry or duty, like a Parisian woman. +By her golden eyes, how glad I shall be to sleep." + +He saw a hackney coach standing at the corner of Frascati's waiting +for some gambler; he awoke the driver, was driven home, went to bed, +and slept the sleep of the dissipated, which for some queer reason--of +which no rhymer has yet taken advantage--is as profound as that of +innocence. Perhaps it is an instance of the proverbial axiom, +/extremes meet/. + +About noon De Marsay awoke and stretched himself; he felt the grip of +that sort of voracious hunger which old soldiers can remember having +experienced on the morrow of victory. He was delighted, therefore, to +see Paul de Manerville standing in front of him, for at such a time +nothing is more agreeable than to eat in company. + +"Well," his friend remarked, "we all imagined that you had been shut +up for the last ten days with the girl of the golden eyes." + +"The girl of the golden eyes! I have forgotten her. Faith! I have +other fish to fry!" + +"Ah! you are playing at discretion." + +"Why not?" asked De Marsay, with a laugh. "My dear fellow, discretion +is the best form of calculation. Listen--however, no! I will not say a +word. You never teach me anything; I am not disposed to make you a +gratuitous present of the treasures of my policy. Life is a river +which is of use for the promotion of commerce. In the name of all that +is most sacred in life--of cigars! I am no professor of social economy +for the instruction of fools. Let us breakfast! It costs less to give +you a tunny omelette than to lavish the resources of my brain on you." + +"Do you bargain with your friends?" + +"My dear fellow," said Henri, who rarely denied himself a sarcasm, +"since all the same, you may some day need, like anybody else, to use +discretion, and since I have much love for you--yes, I like you! Upon +my word, if you only wanted a thousand-franc note to keep you from +blowing your brains out, you would find it here, for we haven't yet +done any business of that sort, eh, Paul? If you had to fight +to-morrow, I would measure the ground and load the pistols, so that +you might be killed according to rule. In short, if anybody besides +myself took it into his head to say ill of you in your absence, he +would have to deal with the somewhat nasty gentleman who walks in my +shoes--there's what I call a friendship beyond question. Well, my good +fellow, if you should ever have need of discretion, understand that +there are two sorts of discretion--the active and the negative. +Negative discretion is that of fools who make use of silence, +negation, an air of refusal, the discretion of locked doors--mere +impotence! Active discretion proceeds by affirmation. Suppose at the +club this evening I were to say: 'Upon my word of honor the golden- +eyed was not worth all she cost me!' Everybody would exclaim when I +was gone: 'Did you hear that fop De Marsay, who tried to make us +believe that he has already had the girl of the golden eyes? It's his +way of trying to disembarrass himself of his rivals: he's no +simpleton.' But such a ruse is vulgar and dangerous. However gross a +folly one utters, there are always idiots to be found who will believe +it. The best form of discretion is that of women when they want to +take the change out of their husbands. It consists in compromising a +woman with whom we are not concerned, or whom we do not love, in order +to save the honor of the one whom we love well enough to respect. It +is what is called the /woman-screen/. . . . Ah! here is Laurent. What +have you got for us?" + +"Some Ostend oysters, Monsieur le Comte." + +"You will know some day, Paul, how amusing it is to make a fool of the +world by depriving it of the secret of one's affections. I derive an +immense pleasure in escaping from the stupid jurisdiction of the +crowd, which knows neither what it wants, nor what one wants of it, +which takes the means for the end, and by turns curses and adores, +elevates and destroys! What a delight to impose emotions on it and +receive none from it, to tame it, never to obey it. If one may ever be +proud of anything, is it not a self-acquired power, of which one is at +once the cause and effect, the principle and the result? Well, no man +knows what I love, nor what I wish. Perhaps what I have loved, or what +I may have wished will be known, as a drama which is accomplished is +known; but to let my game be seen--weakness, mistake! I know nothing +more despicable than strength outwitted by cunning. Can I initiate +myself with a laugh into the ambassador's part, if indeed diplomacy is +as difficult as life? I doubt it. Have you any ambition? Would you +like to become something?" + +"But, Henri, you are laughing at me--as though I were not sufficiently +mediocre to arrive at anything." + +"Good Paul! If you go on laughing at yourself, you will soon be able +to laugh at everybody else." + +At breakfast, by the time he had started his cigars, De Marsay began +to see the events of the night in a singular light. Like many men of +great intelligence, his perspicuity was not spontaneous, as it did not +at once penetrate to the heart of things. As with all natures endowed +with the faculty of living greatly in the present, of extracting, so +to speak, the essence of it and assimilating it, his second-sight had +need of a sort of slumber before it could identify itself with causes. +Cardinal de Richelieu was so constituted, and it did not debar in him +the gift of foresight necessary to the conception of great designs. + +De Marsay's conditions were alike, but at first he only used his +weapons for the benefit of his pleasures, and only became one of the +most profound politicians of his day when he had saturated himself +with those pleasures to which a young man's thoughts--when he has +money and power--are primarily directed. Man hardens himself thus: he +uses woman in order that she may not make use of him. + +At this moment, then, De Marsay perceived that he had been fooled by +the girl of the golden eyes, seeing, as he did, in perspective, all +that night of which the delights had been poured upon him by degrees +until they had ended by flooding him in torrents. He could read, at +last, that page in effect so brilliant, divine its hidden meaning. The +purely physical innocence of Paquita, the bewilderment of her joy, +certain words, obscure at first, but now clear, which had escaped her +in the midst of that joy, all proved to him that he had posed for +another person. As no social corruption was unknown to him, as he +professed a complete indifference towards all perversities, and +believed them to be justified on the simple ground that they were +capable of satisfaction, he was not startled at vice, he knew it as +one knows a friend, but he was wounded at having served as sustenance +for it. If his presumption was right, he had been outraged in the most +sensitive part of him. The mere suspicion filled him with fury, he +broke out with the roar of a tiger who has been the sport of a deer, +the cry of a tiger which united a brute's strength with the +intelligence of the demon. + +"I say, what is the matter with you?" asked Paul. + +"Nothing!" + +"I should be sorry, if you were to be asked whether you had anything +against me and were to reply with a /nothing/ like that! It would be a +sure case of fighting the next day." + +"I fight no more duels," said De Marsay. + +"That seems to me even more tragical. Do you assassinate, then?" + +"You travesty words. I execute." + +"My dear friend," said Paul, "your jokes are of a very sombre color +this morning." + +"What would you have? Pleasure ends in cruelty. Why? I don't know, and +am not sufficiently curious to try and find out. . . . These cigars +are excellent. Give your friend some tea. Do you know, Paul, I live a +brute's life? It should be time to choose oneself a destiny, to employ +one's powers on something which makes life worth living. Life is a +singular comedy. I am frightened, I laugh at the inconsequence of our +social order. The Government cuts off the heads of poor devils who may +have killed a man and licenses creatures who despatch, medically +speaking, a dozen young folks in a season. Morality is powerless +against a dozen vices which destroy society and which nothing can +punish.--Another cup!--Upon my word of honor! man is a jester dancing +upon a precipice. They talk to us about the immorality of the +/Liaisons Dangereuses/, and any other book you like with a vulgar +reputation; but there exists a book, horrible, filthy, fearful, +corrupting, which is always open and will never be shut, the great +book of the world; not to mention another book, a thousand times more +dangerous, which is composed of all that men whisper into each other's +ears, or women murmur behind their fans, of an evening in society." + +"Henri, there is certainly something extraordinary the matter with +you; that is obvious in spite of your active discretion." + +"Yes! . . . Come, I must kill the time until this evening. Let's to +the tables. . . . Perhaps I shall have the good luck to lose." + +De Marsay rose, took a handful of banknotes and folded them into his +cigar-case, dressed himself, and took advantage of Paul's carriage to +repair to the Salon des Etrangers, where until dinner he consumed the +time in those exciting alternations of loss and gain which are the +last resource of powerful organizations when they are compelled to +exercise themselves in the void. In the evening he repaired to the +trysting-place and submitted complacently to having his eyes bandaged. +Then, with that firm will which only really strong men have the +faculty of concentrating, he devoted his attention and applied his +intelligence to the task of divining through what streets the carriage +passed. He had a sort of certitude of being taken to the Rue Saint- +Lazare, and being brought to a halt at the little gate in the garden +of the Hotel San-Real. When he passed, as on the first occasion, +through this gate, and was put in a litter, carried, doubtless by the +mulatto and the coachman, he understood, as he heard the gravel grate +beneath their feet, why they took such minute precautions. He would +have been able, had he been free, or if he had walked, to pluck a twig +of laurel, to observe the nature of the soil which clung to his boots; +whereas, transported, so to speak, ethereally into an inaccessible +mansion, his good fortune must remain what it had been hitherto, a +dream. But it is man's despair that all his work, whether for good or +evil, is imperfect. All his labors, physical or intellectual, are +sealed with the mark of destruction. There had been a gentle rain, the +earth was moist. At night-time certain vegetable perfumes are far +stronger than during the day; Henri could smell, therefore, the scent +of the mignonette which lined the avenue along which he was conveyed. +This indication was enough to light him in the researches which he +promised himself to make in order to recognize the hotel which +contained Paquita's boudoir. He studied in the same way the turnings +which his bearers took within the house, and believed himself able to +recall them. + +As on the previous night, he found himself on the ottoman before +Paquita, who was undoing his bandage; but he saw her pale and altered. +She had wept. On her knees like an angel in prayer, but like an angel +profoundly sad and melancholy, the poor girl no longer resembled the +curious, impatient, and impetuous creature who had carried De Marsay +on her wings to transport him to the seventh heaven of love. There was +something so true in this despair veiled by pleasure, that the +terrible De Marsay felt within him an admiration for this new +masterpiece of nature, and forgot, for the moment, the chief interest +of his assignation. + +"What is the matter with thee, my Paquita?" + +"My friend," she said, "carry me away this very night. Bear me to some +place where no one can answer: 'There is a girl with a golden gaze +here, who has long hair.' Yonder I will give thee as many pleasures as +thou wouldst have of me. Then when you love me no longer, you shall +leave me, I shall not complain, I shall say nothing; and your +desertion need cause you no remorse, for one day passed with you, only +one day, in which I have had you before my eyes, will be worth all my +life to me. But if I stay here, I am lost." + +"I cannot leave Paris, little one!" replied Henri. "I do not belong to +myself, I am bound by a vow to the fortune of several persons who +stand to me, as I do to them. But I can place you in a refuge in +Paris, where no human power can reach you." + +"No," she said, "you forget the power of woman." + +Never did phrase uttered by human voice express terror more +absolutely. + +"What could reach you, then, if I put myself between you and the +world?" + +"Poison!" she said. "Dona Concha suspects you already . . . and," she +resumed, letting the tears fall and glisten on her cheeks, "it is easy +enough to see I am no longer the same. Well, if you abandon me to the +fury of the monster who will destroy me, your holy will be done! But +come, let there be all the pleasures of life in our love. Besides, I +will implore, I will weep and cry out and defend myself; perhaps I +shall be saved." + +"Whom will your implore?" he asked. + +"Silence!" said Paquita. "If I obtain mercy it will perhaps be on +account of my discretion." + +"Give me my robe," said Henri, insidiously. + +"No, no!" she answered quickly, "be what you are, one of those angels +whom I have been taught to hate, and in whom I only saw ogres, whilst +you are what is fairest under the skies," she said, caressing Henri's +hair. "You do not know how silly I am. I have learned nothing. Since I +was twelve years old I have been shut up without ever seeing any one. +I can neither read nor write, I can only speak English and Spanish." + +"How is it, then, that you receive letters from London?" + +"My letters? . . . See, here they are!" she said, proceeding to take +some papers out of a tall Japanese vase. + +She offered De Marsay some letters, in which the young man saw, with +surprise, strange figures, similar to those of a rebus, traced in +blood, and illustrating phrases full of passion. + +"But," he cried, marveling at these hieroglyphics created by the +alertness of jealousy, "you are in the power of an infernal genius?" + +"Infernal," she repeated. + +"But how, then, were you able to get out?" + +"Ah!" she said, "that was my ruin. I drove Dona Concha to choose +between the fear of immediate death and anger to be. I had the +curiosity of a demon, I wished to break the bronze circle which they +had described between creation and me, I wished to see what young +people were like, for I knew nothing of man except the Marquis and +Cristemio. Our coachman and the lackey who accompanies us are old +men. . . ." + +"But you were not always thus shut up? Your health . . . ?" + +"Ah," she answered, "we used to walk, but it was at night and in the +country, by the side of the Seine, away from people." + +"Are you not proud of being loved like that?" + +"No," she said, "no longer. However full it be, this hidden life is +but darkness in comparison with the light." + +"What do you call the light?" + +"Thee, my lovely Adolphe! Thee, for whom I would give my life. All the +passionate things that have been told me, and that I have inspired, I +feel for thee! For a certain time I understood nothing of existence, +but now I know what love is, and hitherto I have been the loved one +only; for myself, I did not love. I would give up everything for you, +take me away. If you like, take me as a toy, but let me be near you +until you break me." + +"You will have no regrets?" + +"Not one"! she said, letting him read her eyes, whose golden tint was +pure and clear. + +"Am I the favored one?" said Henri to himself. If he suspected the +truth, he was ready at that time to pardon the offence in view of a +love so single minded. "I shall soon see," he thought. + +If Paquita owed him no account of the past, yet the least recollection +of it became in his eyes a crime. He had therefore the sombre strength +to withhold a portion of his thought, to study her, even while +abandoning himself to the most enticing pleasures that ever peri +descended from the skies had devised for her beloved. + +Paquita seemed to have been created for love by a particular effort of +nature. In a night her feminine genius had made the most rapid +progress. Whatever might be the power of this young man, and his +indifference in the matter of pleasures, in spite of his satiety of +the previous night, he found in the girl with the golden eyes that +seraglio which a loving woman knows how to create and which a man +never refuses. Paquita responded to that passion which is felt by all +really great men for the infinite--that mysterious passion so +dramatically expressed in Faust, so poetically translated in Manfred, +and which urged Don Juan to search the heart of women, in his hope to +find there that limitless thought in pursuit of which so many hunters +after spectres have started, which wise men think to discover in +science, and which mystics find in God alone. The hope of possessing +at last the ideal being with whom the struggle could be constant and +tireless ravished De Marsay, who, for the first time for long, opened +his heart. His nerves expanded, his coldness was dissipated in the +atmosphere of that ardent soul, his hard and fast theories melted +away, and happiness colored his existence to the tint of the rose and +white boudoir. Experiencing the sting of a higher pleasure, he was +carried beyond the limits within which he had hitherto confined +passion. He would not be surpassed by this girl, whom a somewhat +artificial love had formed all ready for the needs of his soul, and +then he found in that vanity which urges a man to be in all things a +victor, strength enough to tame the girl; but, at the same time, urged +beyond that line where the soul is mistress over herself, he lost +himself in these delicious limboes, which the vulgar call so foolishly +"the imaginary regions." He was tender, kind, and confidential. He +affected Paquita almost to madness. + +"Why should we not go to Sorrento, to Nice, to Chiavari, and pass all +our life so? Will you?" he asked of Paquita, in a penetrating voice. + +"Was there need to say to me: 'Will you'?" she cried. "Have I a will? +I am nothing apart from you, except in so far as I am a pleasure for +you. If you would choose a retreat worthy of us, Asia is the only +country where love can unfold his wings. . . ." + +"You are right," answered Henri. "Let us go to the Indies, there where +spring is eternal, where the earth grows only flowers, where man can +display the magnificence of kings and none shall say him nay, as in +the foolish lands where they would realize the dull chimera of +equality. Let us go to the country where one lives in the midst of a +nation of slaves, where the sun shines ever on a palace which is +always white, where the air sheds perfumes, the birds sing of love and +where, when one can love no more, one dies. . . ." + +"And where one dies together!" said Paquita. "But do not let us start +to-morrow, let us start this moment . . . take Cristemio." + +"Faith! pleasure is the fairest climax of life. Let us go to Asia; but +to start, my child, one needs much gold, and to have gold one must set +one's affairs in order." + +She understood no part of these ideas. + +"Gold! There is a pile of it here--as high as that," she said holding +up her hand. + +"It is not mine." + +"What does that matter?" she went on; "if we have need of it let us +take it." + +"It does not belong to you." + +"Belong!" she repeated. "Have you not taken me? When we have taken it, +it will belong to us." + +He gave a laugh. + +"Poor innocent! You know nothing of the world." + +"Nay, but this is what I know," she cried, clasping Henri to her. + +At the very moment when De Marsay was forgetting all, and conceiving +the desire to appropriate this creature forever, he received in the +midst of his joy a dagger-thrust, which Paquita, who had lifted him +vigorously in the air, as though to contemplate him, exclaimed: "Oh, +Margarita!" + +"Margarita!" cried the young man, with a roar; "now I know all that I +still tried to disbelieve." + +He leaped upon the cabinet in which the long poniard was kept. Happily +for Paquita and for himself, the cupboard was shut. His fury waxed at +this impediment, but he recovered his tranquillity, went and found his +cravat, and advanced towards her with an air of such ferocious meaning +that, without knowing of what crime she had been guilty, Paquita +understood, none the less, that her life was in question. With one +bound she rushed to the other end of the room to escape the fatal knot +which De Marsay tried to pass round her neck. There was a struggle. On +either side there was an equality of strength, agility, and +suppleness. To end the combat Paquita threw between the legs of her +lover a cushion which made him fall, and profited by the respite which +this advantage gave to her, to push the button of the spring which +caused the bell to ring. Promptly the mulatto arrived. In a second +Cristemio leaped on De Marsay and held him down with one foot on his +chest, his heel turned towards the throat. De Marsay realized that, if +he struggled, at a single sign from Paquita he would be instantly +crushed. + +"Why did you want to kill me, my beloved?" she said. De Marsay made no +reply. + +"In what have I angered you?" she asked. "Speak, let us understand +each other." + +Henri maintained the phlegmatic attitude of a strong man who feels +himself vanquished; his countenance, cold, silent, entirely English, +revealed the consciousness of his dignity in a momentary resignation. +Moreover, he had already thought, in spite of the vehemence of his +anger, that it was scarcely prudent to compromise himself with the law +by killing this girl on the spur of the moment, before he had arranged +the murder in such a manner as should insure his impunity. + +"My beloved," went on Paquita, "speak to me; do not leave me without +one loving farewell! I would not keep in my heart the terror which you +have just inspired in it. . . . Will you speak?" she said, stamping +her foot with anger. + +De Marsay, for all reply, gave her a glance, which signified so +plainly, "/You must die!/" that Paquita threw herself upon him. + +"Ah, well, you want to kill me! . . . If my death can give you any +pleasure--kill me!" + +She made a sign to Cristemio, who withdrew his foot from the body of +the young man, and retired without letting his face show that he had +formed any opinion, good or bad, with regard to Paquita. + +"That is a man," said De Marsay, pointing to the mulatto, with a +sombre gesture. "There is no devotion like the devotion which obeys in +friendship, and does not stop to weigh motives. In that man you +possess a true friend." + +"I will give him you, if you like," she answered; "he will serve you +with the same devotion that he has for me, if I so instruct him." + +She waited for a word of recognition, and went on with an accent +replete with tenderness: + +"Adolphe, give me then one kind word! . . . It is nearly day." + +Henri did not answer. The young man had one sorry quality, for one +considers as something great everything which resembles strength, and +often men invent extravagances. Henri knew not how to pardon. That +/returning upon itself/ which is one of the soul's graces, was a non- +existent sense for him. The ferocity of the Northern man, with which +the English blood is deeply tainted, had been transmitted to him by +his father. He was inexorable both in his good and evil impulses. +Paquita's exclamation had been all the more horrible to him, in that +it had dethroned him from the sweetest triumph which had ever +flattered his man's vanity. Hope, love, and every emotion had been +exalted with him, all had lit up within his heart and his +intelligence, then these torches illuminating his life had been +extinguished by a cold wind. Paquita, in her stupefaction of grief, +had only strength enough to give the signal for departure. + +"What is the use of that!" she said, throwing away the bandage. "If he +does not love me, if he hates me, it is all over." + +She waited for one look, did not obtain it, and fell, half dead. The +mulatto cast a glance at Henri, so horribly significant, that, for the +first time in his life, the young man, to whom no one denied the gift +of rare courage, trembled. "/If you do not love her well, if you give +her the least pain, I will kill you/." such was the sense of that +brief gaze. De Marsay was escorted, with a care almost obsequious, +along the dimly lit corridor, at the end of which he issued by a +secret door into the garden of the Hotel San-Real. The mulatto made +him walk cautiously through an avenue of lime trees, which led to a +little gate opening upon a street which was at that hour deserted. De +Marsay took a keen notice of everything. The carriage awaited him. +This time the mulatto did not accompany him, and at the moment when +Henri put his head out of the window to look once more at the gardens +of the hotel, he encountered the white eyes of Cristemio, with whom he +exchanged a glance. On either side there was a provocation, a +challenge, the declaration of a savage war, of a duel in which +ordinary laws were invalid, where treason and treachery were admitted +means. Cristemio knew that Henri had sworn Paquita's death. Henri knew +that Cristemio would like to kill him before he killed Paquita. Both +understood each other to perfection. + +"The adventure is growing complicated in a most interesting way," said +Henri. + +"Where is the gentleman going to?" asked the coachman. + +De Marsay was driven to the house of Paul de Manerville. For more than +a week Henri was away from home, and no one could discover either what +he did during this period, nor where he stayed. This retreat saved him +from the fury of the mulatto and caused the ruin of the charming +creature who had placed all her hope in him whom she loved as never +human heart had loved on this earth before. On the last day of the +week, about eleven o'clock at night, Henri drove up in a carriage to +the little gate in the garden of the Hotel San-Real. Four men +accompanied him. The driver was evidently one of his friends, for he +stood up on his box, like a man who was to listen, an attentive +sentinel, for the least sound. One of the other three took his stand +outside the gate in the street; the second waited in the garden, +leaning against the wall; the last, who carried in his hand a bunch of +keys, accompanied De Marsay. + +"Henri," said his companion to him, "we are betrayed." + +"By whom, my good Ferragus?" + +"They are not all asleep," replied the chief of the Devourers; "it is +absolutely certain that some one in the house has neither eaten nor +drunk. . . . Look! see that light!" + +"We have a plan of the house; from where does it come?" + +"I need no plan to know," replied Ferragus; "it comes from the room of +the Marquise." + +"Ah," cried De Marsay, "no doubt she arrived from London to-day. The +woman has robbed me even of my revenge! But if she has anticipated me, +my good Gratien, we will give her up to the law." + +"Listen, listen! . . . The thing is settled," said Ferragus to Henri. + +The two friends listened intently, and heard some feeble cries which +might have aroused pity in the breast of a tiger. + +"Your marquise did not think the sound would escape by the chimney," +said the chief of the Devourers, with the laugh of a critic, enchanted +to detect a fault in a work of merit. + +"We alone, we know how to provide for every contingency," said Henri. +"Wait for me. I want to see what is going on upstairs--I want to know +how their domestic quarrels are managed. By God! I believe she is +roasting her at a slow fire." + +De Marsay lightly scaled the stairs, with which he was familiar, and +recognized the passage leading to the boudoir. When he opened the door +he experienced the involuntary shudder which the sight of bloodshed +gives to the most determined of men. The spectacle which was offered +to his view was, moreover, in more than one respect astonishing to +him. The Marquise was a woman; she had calculated her vengeance with +that perfection of perfidy which distinguishes the weaker animals. She +had dissimulated her anger in order to assure herself of the crime +before she punished it. + +"Too late, my beloved!" said Paquita, in her death agony, casting her +pale eyes upon De Marsay. + +The girl of the golden eyes expired in a bath of blood. The great +illumination of candles, a delicate perfume which was perceptible, a +certain disorder, in which the eye of a man accustomed to amorous +adventures could not but discern the madness which is common to all +the passions, revealed how cunningly the Marquise had interrogated the +guilty one. The white room, where the blood showed so well, betrayed a +long struggle. The prints of Paquita's hands were on the cushions. +Here she had clung to her life, here she had defended herself, here +she had been struck. Long strips of the tapestry had been torn down by +her bleeding hands, which, without a doubt, had struggled long. +Paquita must have tried to reach the window; her bare feet had left +their imprints on the edge of the divan, along which she must have +run. Her body, mutilated by the dagger-thrusts of her executioner, +told of the fury with which she had disputed a life which Henri had +made precious to her. She lay stretched on the floor, and in her +death-throes had bitten the ankles of Madame de San-Real, who still +held in her hand her dagger, dripping blood. The hair of the Marquise +had been torn out, she was covered with bites, many of which were +bleeding, and her torn dress revealed her in a state of semi-nudity, +with the scratches on her breasts. She was sublime so. Her head, eager +and maddened, exhaled the odor of blood. Her panting mouth was open, +and her nostrils were not sufficient for her breath. There are certain +animals who fall upon their enemy in their rage, do it to death, and +seem in the tranquillity of victory to have forgotten it. There are +others who prowl around their victim, who guard it in fear lest it +should be taken away from them, and who, like the Achilles of Homer, +drag their enemy by the feet nine times round the walls of Troy. The +Marquise was like that. She did not see Henri. In the first place, she +was too secure of her solitude to be afraid of witnesses; and, +secondly, she was too intoxicated with warm blood, too excited with +the fray, too exalted, to take notice of the whole of Paris, if Paris +had formed a circle round her. A thunderbolt would not have disturbed +her. She had not even heard Paquita's last sigh, and believed that the +dead girl could still hear her. + +"Die without confessing!" she said. "Go down to hell, monster of +ingratitude; belong to no one but the fiend. For the blood you gave +him you owe me all your own! Die, die, suffer a thousand deaths! I +have been too kind--I was only a moment killing you. I should have +made you experience all the tortures that you have bequeathed to me. I +--I shall live! I shall live in misery. I have no one left to love but +God!" + +She gazed at her. + +"She is dead!" she said to herself, after a pause, in a violent +reaction. "Dead! Oh, I shall die of grief!" + +The Marquise was throwing herself upon the divan, stricken with a +despair which deprived her of speech, when this movement brought her +in view of Henri de Marsay. + +"Who are you?" she asked, rushing at him with her dagger raised. + +Henri caught her arm, and thus they could contemplate each other face +to face. A horrible surprise froze the blood in their veins, and their +limbs quivered like those of frightened horses. In effect, the two +Menoechmi had not been more alike. With one accord they uttered the +same phrase: + +"Lord Dudley must have been your father!" + +The head of each was drooped in affirmation. + +"She was true to the blood," said Henri, pointing to Paquita. + +"She was as little guilty as it is possible to be," replied Margarita +Euphemia Porraberil, and she threw herself upon the body of Paquita, +giving vent to a cry of despair. "Poor child! Oh, if I could bring +thee to life again! I was wrong--forgive me, Paquita! Dead! and I +live! I--I am the most unhappy." + +At that moment the horrible face of the mother of Paquita appeared. + +"You are come to tell me that you never sold her to me to kill," cried +the Marquise. "I know why you have left your lair. I will pay you +twice over. Hold your peace." + +She took a bag of gold from the ebony cabinet, and threw it +contemptuously at the old woman's feet. The chink of the gold was +potent enough to excite a smile on the Georgian's impassive face. + +"I come at the right moment for you, my sister," said Henri. "The law +will ask of you----" + +"Nothing," replied the Marquise. "One person alone might ask for a +reckoning for the death of this girl. Cristemio is dead." + +"And the mother," said Henri, pointing to the old woman. "Will you not +always be in her power?" + +"She comes from a country where women are not beings, but things-- +chattels, with which one does as one wills, which one buys, sells, and +slays; in short, which one uses for one's caprices as you, here, use a +piece of furniture. Besides, she has one passion which dominates all +the others, and which would have stifled her maternal love, even if +she had loved her daughter, a passion----" + +"What?" Henri asked quickly, interrupting his sister. + +"Play! God keep you from it," answered the Marquise. + +"But whom have you," said Henri, looking at the girl of the golden +eyes, "who will help you to remove the traces of this fantasy which +the law would not overlook?" + +"I have her mother," replied the Marquise, designating the Georgian, +to whom she made a sign to remain. + +"We shall meet again," said Henri, who was thinking anxiously of his +friends and felt that it was time to leave. + +"No, brother," she said, "we shall not meet again. I am going back to +Spain to enter the Convent of /los Dolores/." + +"You are too young yet, too lovely," said Henri, taking her in his +arms and giving her a kiss. + +"Good-bye," she said; "there is no consolation when you have lost that +which has seemed to you the infinite." + +A week later Paul de Manerville met De Marsay in the Tuileries, on the +Terrasse de Feuillants. + +"Well, what has become of our beautiful girl of the golden eyes, you +rascal?" + +"She is dead." + +"What of?" + +"Consumption." + + + +PARIS, March 1834-April 1835. + + + + +ADDENDUM + + The Girl with the Golden Eyes is the third part of the trilogy. Part + one is entitled Ferragus and part two is The Duchesse de Langeais. + The three stories are frequently combined under the title The + Thirteen. + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Bourignard, Gratien-Henri-Victor-Jean-Joseph + Ferragus + +Dudley, Lord + The Lily of the Valley + A Man of Business + Another Study of Woman + A Daughter of Eve + +Manerville, Paul Francois-Joseph, Comte de + The Ball at Sceaux + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + A Marriage Settlement + +Marsay, Henri de + Ferragus + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Unconscious Humorists + Another Study of Woman + The Lily of the Valley + Father Goriot + Jealousies of a Country Town + Ursule Mirouet + A Marriage Settlement + Lost Illusions + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Letters of Two Brides + The Ball at Sceaux + Modeste Mignon + The Secrets of a Princess + The Gondreville Mystery + A Daughter of Eve + +Ronquerolles, Marquis de + The Imaginary Mistress + The Peasantry + Ursule Mirouet + A Woman of Thirty + Another Study of Woman + Ferragus + The Duchesse of Langeais + The Member for Arcis + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE THIRTEEN *** + +This file should be named thrtn10.txt or thrtn10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, thrtn11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, thrtn10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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