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diff --git a/1729-h/1729-h.htm b/1729-h/1729-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ed89aa --- /dev/null +++ b/1729-h/1729-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2288 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Deserted Woman, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Deserted Woman, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Deserted Woman + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Ellen Marriage + +Release Date: March 1, 2010 [EBook #1729] +Last Updated: November 24, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESERTED WOMAN *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE DESERTED WOMAN + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Ellen Marriage + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + DEDICATION<br /><br /> To Her Grace the Duchesse d’Abrantes,<br /> from her + devoted servant,<br /> Honore de Balzac.<br /> PARIS, August 1835.<br /> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE DESERTED WOMAN</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> ADDENDUM<br /> </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE DESERTED WOMAN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + In the early spring of 1822, the Paris doctors sent to Lower Normandy a + young man just recovering from an inflammatory complaint, brought on by + overstudy, or perhaps by excess of some other kind. His convalescence + demanded complete rest, a light diet, bracing air, and freedom from + excitement of every kind, and the fat lands of Bessin seemed to offer all + these conditions of recovery. To Bayeux, a picturesque place about six + miles from the sea, the patient therefore betook himself, and was received + with the cordiality characteristic of relatives who lead very retired + lives, and regard a new arrival as a godsend. + </p> + <p> + All little towns are alike, save for a few local customs. When M. le Baron + Gaston de Nueil, the young Parisian in question, had spent two or three + evenings in his cousin’s house, or with the friends who made up Mme. de + Sainte-Severe’s circle, he very soon had made the acquaintance of the + persons whom this exclusive society considered to be “the whole town.” + Gaston de Nueil recognized in them the invariable stock characters which + every observer finds in every one of the many capitals of the little + States which made up the France of an older day. + </p> + <p> + First of all comes the family whose claims to nobility are regarded as + incontestable, and of the highest antiquity in the department, though no + one has so much as heard of them a bare fifty leagues away. This species + of royal family on a small scale is distantly, but unmistakably, connected + with the Navarreins and the Grandlieu family, and related to the + Cadignans, and the Blamont-Chauvrys. The head of the illustrious house is + invariably a determined sportsman. He has no manners, crushes everybody + else with his nominal superiority, tolerates the sub-prefect much as he + submits to the taxes, and declines to acknowledge any of the novel powers + created by the nineteenth century, pointing out to you as a political + monstrosity the fact that the prime minister is a man of no birth. His + wife takes a decided tone, and talks in a loud voice. She has had adorers + in her time, but takes the sacrament regularly at Easter. She brings up + her daughters badly, and is of the opinion that they will always be rich + enough with their name. + </p> + <p> + Neither husband nor wife has the remotest idea of modern luxury. They + retain a livery only seen elsewhere on the stage, and cling to old + fashions in plate, furniture, and equipages, as in language and manner of + life. This is a kind of ancient state, moreover, that suits passably well + with provincial thrift. The good folk are, in fact, the lords of the manor + of a bygone age, <i>minus</i> the quitrents and heriots, the pack of + hounds and the laced coats; full of honor among themselves, and one and + all loyally devoted to princes whom they only see at a distance. The + historical house <i>incognito</i> is as quaint a survival as a piece of + ancient tapestry. Vegetating somewhere among them there is sure to be an + uncle or a brother, a lieutenant-general, an old courtier of the Kings’s, + who wears the red ribbon of the order of Saint-Louis, and went to Hanover + with the Marechal de Richelieu: and here you will find him like a stray + leaf out of some old pamphlet of the time of Louis Quinze. + </p> + <p> + This fossil greatness finds a rival in another house, wealthier, though of + less ancient lineage. Husband and wife spend a couple of months of every + winter in Paris, bringing back with them its frivolous tone and + short-lived contemporary crazes. Madame is a woman of fashion, though she + looks rather conscious of her clothes, and is always behind the mode. She + scoffs, however, at the ignorance affected by her neighbors. <i>Her</i> + plate is of modern fashion; she has “grooms,” Negroes, a valet-de-chambre, + and what-not. Her oldest son drives a tilbury, and does nothing (the + estate is entailed upon him), his younger brother is auditor to a Council + of State. The father is well posted up in official scandals, and tells you + anecdotes of Louis XVIII. and Madame du Cayla. He invests his money in the + five per cents, and is careful to avoid the topic of cider, but has been + known occasionally to fall a victim to the craze for rectifying the + conjectural sums-total of the various fortunes of the department. He is a + member of the Departmental Council, has his clothes from Paris, and wears + the Cross of the Legion of Honor. In short, he is a country gentleman who + has fully grasped the significance of the Restoration, and is coining + money at the Chamber, but his Royalism is less pure than that of the rival + house; he takes the <i>Gazette</i> and the <i>Debats</i>, the other family + only read the <i>Quotidienne</i>. + </p> + <p> + His lordship the Bishop, a sometime Vicar-General, fluctuates between the + two powers, who pay him the respect due to religion, but at times they + bring home to him the moral appended by the worthy Lafontaine to the fable + of the <i>Ass laden with Relics</i>. The good man’s origin is distinctly + plebeian. + </p> + <p> + Then come stars of the second magnitude, men of family with ten or twelve + hundred livres a year, captains in the navy or cavalry regiments, or + nothing at all. Out on the roads, on horseback, they rank half-way between + the cure bearing the sacraments and the tax collector on his rounds. + Pretty nearly all of them have been in the Pages or in the Household + Troops, and now are peaceably ending their days in a <i>faisance-valoir</i>, + more interested in felling timber and the cider prospects than in the + Monarchy. + </p> + <p> + Still they talk of the Charter and the Liberals while the cards are + making, or over a game at backgammon, when they have exhausted the usual + stock of <i>dots</i>, and have married everybody off according to the + genealogies which they all know by heart. Their womenkind are haughty + dames, who assume the airs of Court ladies in their basket chaises. They + huddle themselves up in shawls and caps by way of full dress; and twice a + year, after ripe deliberation, have a new bonnet from Paris, brought as + opportunity offers. Exemplary wives are they for the most part, and + garrulous. + </p> + <p> + These are the principal elements of aristocratic gentility, with a few + outlying old maids of good family, spinsters who have solved the problem: + given a human being, to remain absolutely stationary. They might be sealed + up in the houses where you see them; their faces and their dresses are + literally part of the fixtures of the town, and the province in which they + dwell. They are its tradition, its memory, its quintessence, the <i>genius + loci</i> incarnate. There is something frigid and monumental about these + ladies; they know exactly when to laugh and when to shake their heads, and + every now and then give out some utterance which passes current as a + witticism. + </p> + <p> + A few rich townspeople have crept into the miniature Faubourg + Saint-Germain, thanks to their money or their aristocratic leanings. But + despite their forty years, the circle still say of them, “Young So-and-so + has sound opinions,” and of such do they make deputies. As a rule, the + elderly spinsters are their patronesses, not without comment. + </p> + <p> + Finally, in this exclusive little set include two or three ecclesiastics, + admitted for the sake of their cloth, or for their wit; for these great + nobles find their own society rather dull, and introduce the bourgeois + element into their drawing-rooms, as a baker puts leaven into his dough. + </p> + <p> + The sum-total contained by all heads put together consists of a certain + quantity of antiquated notions; a few new inflections brewed in company of + an evening being added from time to time to the common stock. Like + sea-water in a little creek, the phrases which represent these ideas surge + up daily, punctually obeying the tidal laws of conversation in their flow + and ebb; you hear the hollow echo of yesterday, to-day, to-morrow, a year + hence, and for evermore. On all things here below they pass immutable + judgments, which go to make up a body of tradition into which no power of + mortal man can infuse one drop of wit or sense. The lives of these persons + revolve with the regularity of clockwork in an orbit of use and wont which + admits of no more deviation or change than their opinions on matters + religious, political, moral, or literary. + </p> + <p> + If a stranger is admitted to the <i>cenacle</i>, every member of it in + turn will say (not without a trace of irony), “You will not find the + brilliancy of your Parisian society here,” and proceed forthwith to + criticise the life led by his neighbors, as if he himself were an + exception who had striven, and vainly striven, to enlighten the rest. But + any stranger so ill advised as to concur in any of their freely expressed + criticism of each other, is pronounced at once to be an ill-natured + person, a heathen, an outlaw, a reprobate Parisian “as Parisians mostly + are.” + </p> + <p> + Before Gaston de Nueil made his appearance in this little world of + strictly observed etiquette, where every detail of life is an integrant + part of a whole, and everything is known; where the values of personalty + and real estate is quoted like stocks on the vast sheet of the newspaper—before + his arrival he had been weighed in the unerring scales of Bayeusaine + judgment. + </p> + <p> + His cousin, Mme. de Sainte-Severe, had already given out the amount of his + fortune, and the sum of his expectations, had produced the family tree, + and expatiated on the talents, breeding, and modesty of this particular + branch. So he received the precise amount of attentions to which he was + entitled; he was accepted as a worthy scion of a good stock; and, for he + was but twenty-three, was made welcome without ceremony, though certain + young ladies and mothers of daughters looked not unkindly upon him. + </p> + <p> + He had an income of eighteen thousand livres from land in the valley of + the Auge; and sooner or later his father, as in duty bound, would leave + him the chateau of Manerville, with the lands thereunto belonging. As for + his education, political career, personal qualities, and qualifications—no + one so much as thought of raising the questions. His land was undeniable, + his rentals steady; excellent plantations had been made; the tenants paid + for repairs, rates, and taxes; the apple-trees were thirty-eight years + old; and, to crown all, his father was in treaty for two hundred acres of + woodland just outside the paternal park, which he intended to enclose with + walls. No hopes of a political career, no fame on earth, can compare with + such advantages as these. + </p> + <p> + Whether out of malice or design, Mme. de Sainte-Severe omitted to mention + that Gaston had an elder brother; nor did Gaston himself say a word about + him. But, at the same time, it is true that the brother was consumptive, + and to all appearance would shortly be laid in earth, lamented and + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + At first Gaston de Nueil amused himself at the expense of the circle. He + drew, as it were, for his mental album, a series of portraits of these + folk, with their angular, wrinkled faces, and hooked noses, their + crotchets and ludicrous eccentricities of dress, portraits which possessed + all the racy flavor of truth. He delighted in their “Normanisms,” in the + primitive quaintness of their ideas and characters. For a short time he + flung himself into their squirrel’s life of busy gyrations in a cage. Then + he began to feel the want of variety, and grew tired of it. It was like + the life of the cloister, cut short before it had well begun. He drifted + on till he reached a crisis, which is neither spleen nor disgust, but + combines all the symptoms of both. When a human being is transplanted into + an uncongenial soil, to lead a starved, stunted existence, there is always + a little discomfort over the transition. Then, gradually, if nothing + removes him from his surroundings, he grows accustomed to them, and adapts + himself to the vacuity which grows upon him and renders him powerless. + Even now, Gaston’s lungs were accustomed to the air; and he was willing to + discern a kind of vegetable happiness in days that brought no mental + exertion and no responsibilities. The constant stirring of the sap of + life, the fertilizing influences of mind on mind, after which he had + sought so eagerly in Paris, were beginning to fade from his memory, and he + was in a fair way of becoming a fossil with these fossils, and ending his + days among them, content, like the companions of Ulysses, in his gross + envelope. + </p> + <p> + One evening Gaston de Nueil was seated between a dowager and one of the + vicars-general of the diocese, in a gray-paneled drawing-room, floored + with large white tiles. The family portraits which adorned the walls + looked down upon four card-tables, and some sixteen persons gathered about + them, chattering over their whist. Gaston, thinking of nothing, digesting + one of those exquisite dinners to which the provincial looks forward all + through the day, found himself justifying the customs of the country. + </p> + <p> + He began to understand why these good folk continued to play with + yesterday’s pack of cards and shuffle them on a threadbare tablecloth, and + how it was that they had ceased to dress for themselves or others. He saw + the glimmerings of something like a philosophy in the even tenor of their + perpetual round, in the calm of their methodical monotony, in their + ignorance of the refinements of luxury. Indeed, he almost came to think + that luxury profited nothing; and even now, the city of Paris, with its + passions, storms, and pleasures, was scarcely more than a memory of + childhood. + </p> + <p> + He admired in all sincerity the red hands, and shy, bashful manner of some + young lady who at first struck him as an awkward simpleton, unattractive + to the last degree, and surprisingly ridiculous. His doom was sealed. He + had gone from the provinces to Paris; he had led the feverish life of + Paris; and now he would have sunk back into the lifeless life of the + provinces, but for a chance remark which reached his ear—a few words + that called up a swift rush of such emotion as he might have felt when a + strain of really good music mingles with the accompaniment of some tedious + opera. + </p> + <p> + “You went to call on Mme. de Beauseant yesterday, did you not?” The + speaker was an elderly lady, and she addressed the head of the local royal + family. + </p> + <p> + “I went this morning. She was so poorly and depressed, that I could not + persuade her to dine with us to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “With Mme. de Champignelles?” exclaimed the dowager with something like + astonishment in her manner. + </p> + <p> + “With my wife,” calmly assented the noble. “Mme. de Beauseant is descended + from the House of Burgundy, on the spindle side, ‘tis true, but the name + atones for everything. My wife is very much attached to the Vicomtesse, + and the poor lady has lived alone for such a long while, that——” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Champignelles looked round about him while he spoke with an + air of cool unconcern, so that it was almost impossible to guess whether + he made a concession to Mme. de Beauseant’s misfortunes, or paid homage to + her noble birth; whether he felt flattered to receive her in his house, + or, on the contrary, sheer pride was the motive that led him to try to + force the country families to meet the Vicomtesse. + </p> + <p> + The women appeared to take counsel of each other by a glance; there was a + sudden silence in the room, and it was felt that their attitude was one of + disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “Does this Mme. de Beauseant happen to be the lady whose adventure with M. + d’Ajuda-Pinto made so much noise?” asked Gaston of his neighbor. + </p> + <p> + “The very same,” he was told. “She came to Courcelles after the marriage + of the Marquis d’Ajuda; nobody visits her. She has, besides, too much + sense not to see that she is in a false position, so she has made no + attempt to see any one. M. de Champignelles and a few gentlemen went to + call upon her, but she would see no one but M. de Champignelles, perhaps + because he is a connection of the family. They are related through the + Beauseants; the father of the present Vicomte married a Mlle. de + Champignelles of the older branch. But though the Vicomtesse de Beauseant + is supposed to be a descendant of the House of Burgundy, you can + understand that we could not admit a wife separated from her husband into + our society here. We are foolish enough still to cling to these + old-fashioned ideas. There was the less excuse for the Vicomtesse, because + M. de Beauseant is a well-bred man of the world, who would have been quite + ready to listen to reason. But his wife is quite mad——” and so + forth and so forth. + </p> + <p> + M. de Nueil, still listening to the speaker’s voice, gathered nothing of + the sense of the words; his brain was too full of thick-coming fancies. + Fancies? What other name can you give to the alluring charms of an + adventure that tempts the imagination and sets vague hopes springing up in + the soul; to the sense of coming events and mysterious felicity and fear + at hand, while as yet there is no substance of fact on which these + phantoms of caprice can fix and feed? Over these fancies thought hovers, + conceiving impossible projects, giving in the germ all the joys of love. + Perhaps, indeed, all passion is contained in that thought-germ, as the + beauty, and fragrance, and rich color of the flower is all packed in the + seed. + </p> + <p> + M. de Nueil did not know that Mme. de Beauseant had taken refuge in + Normandy, after a notoriety which women for the most part envy and + condemn, especially when youth and beauty in some sort excuse the + transgression. Any sort of celebrity bestows an inconceivable prestige. + Apparently for women, as for families, the glory of the crime effaces the + stain; and if such and such a noble house is proud of its tale of heads + that have fallen on the scaffold, a young and pretty woman becomes more + interesting for the dubious renown of a happy love or a scandalous + desertion, and the more she is to be pitied, the more she excites our + sympathies. We are only pitiless to the commonplace. If, moreover, we + attract all eyes, we are to all intents and purposes great; how, indeed, + are we to be seen unless we raise ourselves above other people’s heads? + The common herd of humanity feels an involuntary respect for any person + who can rise above it, and is not over-particular as to the means by which + they rise. + </p> + <p> + It may have been that some such motives influenced Gaston de Nueil at + unawares, or perhaps it was curiosity, or a craving for some interest in + his life, or, in a word, that crowd of inexplicable impulses which, for + want of a better name, we are wont to call “fatality,” that drew him to + Mme. de Beauseant. + </p> + <p> + The figure of the Vicomtesse de Beauseant rose up suddenly before him with + gracious thronging associations. She was a new world for him, a world of + fears and hopes, a world to fight for and to conquer. Inevitably he felt + the contrast between this vision and the human beings in the shabby room; + and then, in truth, she was a woman; what woman had he seen so far in this + dull, little world, where calculation replaced thought and feeling, where + courtesy was a cut-and-dried formality, and ideas of the very simplest + were too alarming to be received or to pass current? The sound of Mme. de + Beauseant’s name revived a young man’s dreams and wakened urgent desires + that had lain dormant for a little. + </p> + <p> + Gaston de Nueil was absent-minded and preoccupied for the rest of the + evening. He was pondering how he might gain access to Mme. de Beauseant, + and truly it was no very easy matter. She was believed to be extremely + clever. But if men and women of parts may be captivated by something + subtle or eccentric, they are also exacting, and can read all that lies + below the surface; and after the first step has been taken, the chances of + failure and success in the difficult task of pleasing them are about even. + In this particular case, moreover, the Vicomtesse, besides the pride of + her position, had all the dignity of her name. Her utter seclusion was the + least of the barriers raised between her and the world. For which reasons + it was well-nigh impossible that a stranger, however well born, could hope + for admittance; and yet, the next morning found M. de Nueil taking his + walks abroad in the direction of Courcelles, a dupe of illusions natural + at his age. Several times he made the circuit of the garden walls, looking + earnestly through every gap at the closed shutters or open windows, hoping + for some romantic chance, on which he founded schemes for introducing + himself into this unknown lady’s presence, without a thought of their + impracticability. Morning after morning was spent in this way to mighty + purpose; but with each day’s walk, that vision of a woman living apart + from the world, of love’s martyr buried in solitude, loomed larger in his + thoughts, and was enshrined in his soul. So Gaston de Nueil walked under + the walls of Courcelles, and some gardener’s heavy footstep would set his + heart beating high with hope. + </p> + <p> + He thought of writing to Mme. de Beauseant, but on mature consideration, + what can you say to a woman whom you have never seen, a complete stranger? + And Gaston had little self-confidence. Like most young persons with a + plentiful crop of illusions still standing, he dreaded the mortifying + contempt of silence more than death itself, and shuddered at the thought + of sending his first tender epistle forth to face so many chances of being + thrown on the fire. He was distracted by innumerable conflicting ideas. + But by dint of inventing chimeras, weaving romances, and cudgeling his + brains, he hit at last upon one of the hopeful stratagems that are sure to + occur to your mind if you persevere long enough, a stratagem which must + make clear to the most inexperienced woman that here was a man who took a + fervent interest in her. The caprice of social conventions puts as many + barriers between lovers as any Oriental imagination can devise in the most + delightfully fantastic tale; indeed, the most extravagant pictures are + seldom exaggerations. In real life, as in the fairy tales, the woman + belongs to him who can reach her and set her free from the position in + which she languishes. The poorest of calenders that ever fell in love with + the daughter of the Khalif is in truth scarcely further from his lady than + Gaston de Nueil from Mme. de Beauseant. The Vicomtesse knew absolutely + nothing of M. de Nueil’s wanderings round her house; Gaston de Nueil’s + love grew to the height of the obstacles to overleap; and the distance set + between him and his extemporized lady-love produced the usual effect of + distance, in lending enchantment. + </p> + <p> + One day, confident in his inspiration, he hoped everything from the love + that must pour forth from his eyes. Spoken words, in his opinion, were + more eloquent than the most passionate letter; and, besides, he would + engage feminine curiosity to plead for him. He went, therefore, to M. de + Champignelles, proposing to employ that gentleman for the better success + of his enterprise. He informed the Marquis that he had been entrusted with + a delicate and important commission which concerned the Vicomtesse de + Beauseant, that he felt doubtful whether she would read a letter written + in an unknown handwriting, or put confidence in a stranger. Would M. de + Champignelles, on his next visit, ask the Vicomtesse if she would consent + to receive him—Gaston de Nueil? While he asked the Marquis to keep + his secret in case of a refusal, he very ingeniously insinuated sufficient + reasons for his own admittance, to be duly passed on to the Vicomtesse. + Was not M. de Champignelles a man of honor, a loyal gentleman incapable of + lending himself to any transaction in bad taste, nay, the merest suspicion + of bad taste! Love lends a young man all the self-possession and astute + craft of an old ambassador; all the Marquis’ harmless vanities were + gratified, and the haughty grandee was completely duped. He tried hard to + fathom Gaston’s secret; but the latter, who would have been greatly + perplexed to tell it, turned off M. de Champignelles’ adroit questioning + with a Norman’s shrewdness, till the Marquis, as a gallant Frenchman, + complimented his young visitor upon his discretion. + </p> + <p> + M. de Champignelles hurried off at once to Courcelles, with that eagerness + to serve a pretty woman which belongs to his time of life. In the + Vicomtesse de Beauseant’s position, such a message was likely to arouse + keen curiosity; so, although her memory supplied no reason at all that + could bring M. de Nueil to her house, she saw no objection to his visit—after + some prudent inquiries as to his family and condition. At the same time, + she began by a refusal. Then she discussed the propriety of the matter + with M. de Champignelles, directing her questions so as to discover, if + possible, whether he knew the motives for the visit, and finally revoked + her negative answer. The discussion and the discretion shown perforce by + the Marquis had piqued her curiosity. + </p> + <p> + M. de Champignelles had no mind to cut a ridiculous figure. He said, with + the air of a man who can keep another’s counsel, that the Vicomtesse must + know the purpose of this visit perfectly well; while the Vicomtesse, in + all sincerity, had no notion what it could be. Mme. de Beauseant, in + perplexity, connected Gaston with people whom he had never met, went + astray after various wild conjectures, and asked herself if she had seen + this M. de Nueil before. In truth, no love-letter, however sincere or + skilfully indited, could have produced so much effect as this riddle. + Again and again Mme. de Beauseant puzzled over it. + </p> + <p> + When Gaston heard that he might call upon the Vicomtesse, his rapture at + so soon obtaining the ardently longed-for good fortune was mingled with + singular embarrassment. How was he to contrive a suitable sequel to this + stratagem? + </p> + <p> + “Bah! I shall see <i>her</i>,” he said over and over again to himself as + he dressed. “See her, and that is everything!” + </p> + <p> + He fell to hoping that once across the threshold of Courcelles he should + find an expedient for unfastening this Gordian knot of his own tying. + There are believers in the omnipotence of necessity who never turn back; + the close presence of danger is an inspiration that calls out all their + powers for victory. Gaston de Nueil was one of these. + </p> + <p> + He took particular pains with his dress, imagining, as youth is apt to + imagine, that success or failure hangs on the position of a curl, and + ignorant of the fact that anything is charming in youth. And, in any case, + such women as Mme. de Beauseant are only attracted by the charms of wit or + character of an unusual order. Greatness of character flatters their + vanity, promises a great passion, seems to imply a comprehension of the + requirements of their hearts. Wit amuses them, responds to the subtlety of + their natures, and they think that they are understood. And what do all + women wish but to be amused, understood, or adored? It is only after much + reflection on the things of life that we understand the consummate + coquetry of neglect of dress and reserve at a first interview; and by the + time we have gained sufficient astuteness for successful strategy, we are + too old to profit by our experience. + </p> + <p> + While Gaston’s lack of confidence in his mental equipment drove him to + borrow charms from his clothes, Madame de Beauseant herself was + instinctively giving more attention to her toilette. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not frighten people, at all events,” she said to herself + as she arranged her hair. + </p> + <p> + In M. de Nueil’s character, person, and manner there was that touch of + unconscious originality which gives a kind of flavor to things that any + one might say or do, and absolves everything that they may choose to do or + say. He was highly cultivated, he had a keen brain, and a face, mobile as + his own nature, which won the goodwill of others. The promise of passion + and tenderness in the bright eyes was fulfilled by an essentially kindly + heart. The resolution which he made as he entered the house at Courcelles + was in keeping with his frank nature and ardent imagination. But, bold has + he was with love, his heart beat violently when he had crossed the great + court, laid out like an English garden, and the man-servant, who had taken + his name to the Vicomtesse, returned to say that she would receive him. + </p> + <p> + “M. le Baron de Nueil.” + </p> + <p> + Gaston came in slowly, but with sufficient ease of manner; and it is a + more difficult thing, be it said, to enter a room where there is but one + woman, than a room that holds a score. + </p> + <p> + A great fire was burning on the hearth in spite of the mild weather, and + by the soft light of the candles in the sconces he saw a young woman + sitting on a high-backed <i>bergere</i> in the angle by the hearth. The + seat was so low that she could move her head freely; every turn of it was + full of grace and delicate charm, whether she bent, leaning forward, or + raised and held it erect, slowly and languidly, as though it were a heavy + burden, so low that she could cross her feet and let them appear, or draw + them back under the folds of a long black dress. + </p> + <p> + The Vicomtesse made as if she would lay the book that she was reading on a + small, round stand; but as she did so, she turned towards M. de Nueil, and + the volume, insecurely laid upon the edge, fell to the ground between the + stand and the sofa. This did not seem to disconcert her. She looked up, + bowing almost imperceptibly in response to his greeting, without rising + from the depths of the low chair in which she lay. Bending forwards, she + stirred the fire briskly, and stooped to pick up a fallen glove, drawing + it mechanically over her left hand, while her eyes wandered in search of + its fellow. The glance was instantly checked, however, for she stretched + out a thin, white, all-but-transparent right hand, with flawless ovals of + rose-colored nail at the tips of the slender, ringless fingers, and + pointed to a chair as if to bid Gaston be seated. He sat down, and she + turned her face questioningly towards him. Words cannot describe the + subtlety of the winning charm and inquiry in that gesture; deliberate in + its kindliness, gracious yet accurate in expression, it was the outcome of + early education and of a constant use and wont of the graciousness of + life. These movements of hers, so swift, so deft, succeeded each other by + the blending of a pretty woman’s fastidious carelessness with the + high-bred manner of a great lady. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant stood out in such strong contrast against the automatons + among whom he had spent two months of exile in that out-of-the-world + district of Normandy, that he could not but find in her the realization of + his romantic dreams; and, on the other hand, he could not compare her + perfections with those of other women whom he had formerly admired. Here + in her presence, in a drawing-room like some salon in the Faubourg + Saint-Germain, full of costly trifles lying about upon the tables, and + flowers and books, he felt as if he were back in Paris. It was a real + Parisian carpet beneath his feet, he saw once more the high-bred type of + Parisienne, the fragile outlines of her form, her exquisite charm, her + disdain of the studied effects which did so much to spoil provincial + women. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant had fair hair and dark eyes, and the pale complexion + that belongs to fair hair. She held up her brow nobly like some fallen + angel, grown proud through the fall, disdainful of pardon. Her way of + gathering her thick hair into a crown of plaits above the broad, curving + lines of the bandeaux upon her forehead, added to the queenliness of her + face. Imagination could discover the ducal coronet of Burgundy in the + spiral threads of her golden hair; all the courage of her house seemed to + gleam from the great lady’s brilliant eyes, such courage as women use to + repel audacity or scorn, for they were full of tenderness for gentleness. + The outline of that little head, so admirably poised above the long, white + throat, the delicate, fine features, the subtle curves of the lips, the + mobile face itself, wore an expression of delicate discretion, a faint + semblance of irony suggestive of craft and insolence. Yet it would have + been difficult to refuse forgiveness to those two feminine failings in + her; for the lines that came out in her forehead whenever her face was not + in repose, like her upward glances (that pathetic trick of manner), told + unmistakably of unhappiness, of a passion that had all but cost her her + life. A woman, sitting in the great, silent salon, a woman cut off from + the rest of the world in this remote little valley, alone, with the + memories of her brilliant, happy, and impassioned youth, of continual + gaiety and homage paid on all sides, now replaced by the horrors of the + void—was there not something in the sight to strike awe that + deepened with reflection? Consciousness of her own value lurked in her + smile. She was neither wife nor mother, she was an outlaw; she had lost + the one heart that could set her pulses beating without shame; she had + nothing from without to support her reeling soul; she must even look for + strength from within, live her own life, cherish no hope save that of + forsaken love, which looks forward to Death’s coming, and hastens his + lagging footsteps. And this while life was in its prime. Oh! to feel + destined for happiness and to die—never having given nor received + it! A woman too! What pain was this! These thoughts flashing across M. de + Nueil’s mind like lightning, left him very humble in the presence of the + greatest charm with which woman can be invested. The triple aureole of + beauty, nobleness, and misfortune dazzled him; he stood in dreamy, almost + open-mouthed admiration of the Vicomtesse. But he found nothing to say to + her. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant, by no means displeased, no doubt, by his surprise, held + out her hand with a kindly but imperious gesture; then, summoning a smile + to her pale lips, as if obeying, even yet, the woman’s impulse to be + gracious: + </p> + <p> + “I have heard from M. de Champignelles of a message which you have kindly + undertaken to deliver, monsieur,” she said. “Can it be from——” + </p> + <p> + With that terrible phrase Gaston understood, even more clearly than + before, his own ridiculous position, the bad taste and bad faith of his + behavior towards a woman so noble and so unfortunate. He reddened. The + thoughts that crowded in upon him could be read in his troubled eyes; but + suddenly, with the courage which youth draws from a sense of its own + wrongdoing, he gained confidence, and very humbly interrupted Mme. de + Beauseant. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he faltered out, “I do not deserve the happiness of seeing you. + I have deceived you basely. However strong the motive may have been, it + can never excuse the pitiful subterfuge which I used to gain my end. But, + madame, if your goodness will permit me to tell you——” + </p> + <p> + The Vicomtesse glanced at M. de Nueil, haughty disdain in her whole + manner. She stretched her hand to the bell and rang it. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” she said, “light this gentleman to the door,” and she looked + with dignity at the visitor. + </p> + <p> + She rose proudly, bowed to Gaston, and then stooped for the fallen volume. + If all her movements on his entrance had been caressingly dainty and + gracious, her every gesture now was no less severely frigid. M. de Nueil + rose to his feet, but he stood waiting. Mme. de Beauseant flung another + glance at him. “Well, why do you not go?” she seemed to say. + </p> + <p> + There was such cutting irony in that glance that Gaston grew white as if + he were about to faint. Tears came into his eyes, but he would not let + them fall, and scorching shame and despair dried them. He looked back at + Madame de Beauseant, and a certain pride and consciousness of his own + worth was mingled with his humility; the Vicomtesse had a right to punish + him, but ought she to use her right? Then he went out. + </p> + <p> + As he crossed the ante-chamber, a clear head, and wits sharpened by + passion, were not slow to grasp the danger of his situation. + </p> + <p> + “If I leave this house, I can never come back to it again,” he said to + himself. “The Vicomtesse will always think of me as a fool. It is + impossible that a woman, and such a woman, should not guess the love that + she has called forth. Perhaps she feels a little, vague, involuntary + regret for dismissing me so abruptly.—But she could not do + otherwise, and she cannot recall her sentence. It rests with me to + understand her.” + </p> + <p> + At that thought Gaston stopped short on the flight of steps with an + exclamation; he turned sharply, saying, “I have forgotten something,” and + went back to the salon. The lackey, all respect for a baron and the rights + of property, was completely deceived by the natural utterance, and + followed him. Gaston returned quietly and unannounced. The Vicomtesse, + thinking that the intruder was the servant, looked up and beheld M. de + Nueil. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques lighted me to the door,” he said, with a half-sad smile which + dispelled any suspicion of jest in those words, while the tone in which + they were spoken went to the heart. Mme. de Beauseant was disarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, take a seat,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Gaston eagerly took possession of a chair. His eyes were shining with + happiness; the Vicomtesse, unable to endure the brilliant light in them, + looked down at the book. She was enjoying a delicious, ever new sensation; + the sense of a man’s delight in her presence is an unfailing feminine + instinct. And then, besides, he had divined her, and a woman is so + grateful to the man who has mastered the apparently capricious, yet + logical, reasoning of her heart; who can track her thought through the + seemingly contradictory workings of her mind, and read the sensations, shy + or bold, written in fleeting red, a bewildering maze of coquetry and + self-revelation. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” Gaston exclaimed in a low voice, “my blunder you know, but you + do not know how much I am to blame. If you only knew what joy it was to——” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! take care,” she said, holding up one finger with an air of mystery, + as she put out her hand towards the bell. + </p> + <p> + The charming gesture, the gracious threat, no doubt called up some sad + thought, some memory of the old happy time when she could be wholly + charming and gentle without an afterthought; when the gladness of her + heart justified every caprice, and put charm into every least movement. + The lines in her forehead gathered between her brows, and the expression + of her face grew dark in the soft candle-light. Then looking across at M. + de Nueil gravely but not unkindly, she spoke like a woman who deeply feels + the meaning of every word. + </p> + <p> + “This is all very ridiculous! Once upon a time, monsieur, when thoughtless + high spirits were my privilege, I should have laughed fearlessly over your + visit with you. But now my life is very much changed. I cannot do as I + like, I am obliged to think. What brings you here? Is it curiosity? In + that case I am paying dearly for a little fleeting pleasure. Have you + fallen <i>passionately</i> in love already with a woman whom you have + never seen, a woman with whose name slander has, of course, been busy? If + so, your motive in making this visit is based on disrespect, on an error + which accident brought into notoriety.” + </p> + <p> + She flung her book down scornfully upon the table, then, with a terrible + look at Gaston, she went on: “Because I once was weak, must it be supposed + that I am always weak? This is horrible, degrading. Or have you come here + to pity me? You are very young to offer sympathy with heart troubles. + Understand this clearly, sir, that I would rather have scorn than pity. I + will not endure compassion from any one.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief pause. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” she continued (and the face that she turned to him was gentle + and sad), “whatever motive induced this rash intrusion upon my solitude, + it is very painful to me, you see. You are too young to be totally without + good feeling, so surely you will feel that this behavior of yours is + improper. I forgive you for it, and, as you see, I am speaking of it to + you without bitterness. You will not come here again, will you? I am + entreating when I might command. If you come to see me again, neither you + nor I can prevent the whole place from believing that you are my lover, + and you would cause me great additional annoyance. You do not mean to do + that, I think.” + </p> + <p> + She said no more, but looked at him with a great dignity which abashed + him. + </p> + <p> + “I have done wrong, madame,” he said, with deep feeling in his voice, “but + it was through enthusiasm and thoughtlessness and eager desire of + happiness, the qualities and defects of my age. Now, I understand that I + ought not to have tried to see you,” he added; “but, at the same time, the + desire was a very natural one”—and, making an appeal to feeling + rather than to the intellect, he described the weariness of his enforced + exile. He drew a portrait of a young man in whom the fires of life were + burning themselves out, conveying the impression that here was a heart + worthy of tender love, a heart which, notwithstanding, had never known the + joys of love for a young and beautiful woman of refinement and taste. He + explained, without attempting to justify, his unusual conduct. He + flattered Mme. de Beauseant by showing that she had realized for him the + ideal lady of a young man’s dream, the ideal sought by so many, and so + often sought in vain. Then he touched upon his morning prowlings under the + walls of Courcelles, and his wild thoughts at the first sight of the + house, till he excited that vague feeling of indulgence which a woman can + find in her heart for the follies committed for her sake. + </p> + <p> + An impassioned voice was speaking in the chill solitude; the speaker + brought with him a warm breath of youth and the charms of a carefully + cultivated mind. It was so long since Mme. de Beauseant had felt stirred + by real feeling delicately expressed, that it affected her very strongly + now. In spite of herself, she watched M. de Nueil’s expressive face, and + admired the noble countenance of a soul, unbroken as yet by the cruel + discipline of the life of the world, unfretted by continual scheming to + gratify personal ambition and vanity. Gaston was in the flower of his + youth, he impressed her as a man with something in him, unaware as yet of + the great career that lay before him. So both these two made reflections + most dangerous for their peace of mind, and both strove to conceal their + thoughts. M. de Nueil saw in the Vicomtesse a rare type of woman, always + the victim of her perfections and tenderness; her graceful beauty is the + least of her charms for those who are privileged to know the infinite of + feeling and thought and goodness in the soul within; a woman whose + instinctive feeling for beauty runs through all the most varied + expressions of love, purifying its transports, turning them to something + almost holy; wonderful secret of womanhood, the exquisite gift that Nature + so seldom bestows. And the Vicomtesse, on her side, listening to the ring + of sincerity in Gaston’s voice, while he told of his youthful troubles, + began to understand all that grown children of five-and-twenty suffer from + diffidence, when hard work has kept them alike from corrupting influences + and intercourse with men and women of the world whose sophistical + reasoning and experience destroys the fair qualities of youth. Here was + the ideal of a woman’s dreams, a man unspoiled as yet by the egoism of + family or success, or by that narrow selfishness which blights the first + impulses of honor, devotion, self-sacrifice, and high demands of self; all + the flowers so soon wither that enrich at first the life of delicate but + strong emotions, and keep alive the loyalty of the heart. + </p> + <p> + But these two, once launched forth into the vast of sentiment, went far + indeed in theory, sounding the depths in either soul, testing the + sincerity of their expressions; only, whereas Gaston’s experiments were + made unconsciously, Mme. de Beauseant had a purpose in all that she said. + Bringing her natural and acquired subtlety to the work, she sought to + learn M. de Nueil’s opinions by advancing, as far as she could do so, + views diametrically opposed to her own. So witty and so gracious was she, + so much herself with this stranger, with whom she felt completely at ease, + because she felt sure that they should never meet again, that, after some + delicious epigram of hers, Gaston exclaimed unthinkingly: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! madame, how could any man have left you?” + </p> + <p> + The Vicomtesse was silent. Gaston reddened, he thought that he had + offended her; but she was not angry. The first deep thrill of delight + since the day of her calamity had taken her by surprise. The skill of the + cleverest <i>roue</i> could not have made the impression that M. de Nueil + made with that cry from the heart. That verdict wrung from a young man’s + candor gave her back innocence in her own eyes, condemned the world, laid + the blame upon the lover who had left her, and justified her subsequent + solitary drooping life. The world’s absolution, the heartfelt sympathy, + the social esteem so longed for, and so harshly refused, nay, all her + secret desires were given her to the full in that exclamation, made fairer + yet by the heart’s sweetest flatteries and the admiration that women + always relish eagerly. He understood her, understood all, and he had given + her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the opportunity of + rising higher through her fall. She looked at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! madame, do not punish me for my heedlessness. If you grant me but one + evening, vouchsafe not to shorten it.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at the pretty speech. + </p> + <p> + “Well, as we must never meet again,” she said, “what signifies a moment + more or less? If you were to care for me, it would be a pity.” + </p> + <p> + “It is too late now,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Do not tell me that,” she answered gravely. “Under any other + circumstances I should be very glad to see you. I will speak frankly, and + you will understand how it is that I do not choose to see you again, and + ought not to do so. You have too much magnanimity not to feel that if I + were so much as suspected of a second trespass, every one would think of + me as a contemptible and vulgar woman; I should be like other women. A + pure and blameless life will bring my character into relief. I am too + proud not to endeavor to live like one apart in the world, a victim of the + law through my marriage, man’s victim through my love. If I were not + faithful to the position which I have taken up, then I should deserve all + the reproach that is heaped upon me; I should be lowered in my own eyes. I + had not enough lofty social virtue to remain with a man whom I did not + love. I have snapped the bonds of marriage in spite of the law; it was + wrong, it was a crime, it was anything you like, but for me the bonds + meant death. I meant to live. Perhaps if I had been a mother I could have + endured the torture of a forced marriage of suitability. At eighteen we + scarcely know what is done with us, poor girls that we are! I have broken + the laws of the world, and the world has punished me; we both did rightly. + I sought happiness. Is it not a law of our nature to seek for happiness? I + was young, I was beautiful... I thought that I had found a nature as + loving, as apparently passionate. I was loved indeed; for a little + while...” + </p> + <p> + She paused. + </p> + <p> + “I used to think,” she said, “that no one could leave a woman in such a + position as mine. I have been forsaken; I must have offended in some way. + Yes, in some way, no doubt, I failed to keep some law of our nature, was + too loving, too devoted, too exacting—I do not know. Evil days have + brought light with them! For a long while I blamed another, now I am + content to bear the whole blame. At my own expense, I have absolved that + other of whom I once thought I had a right to complain. I had not the art + to keep him; fate has punished me heavily for my lack of skill. I only + knew how to love; how can one keep oneself in mind when one loves? So I + was a slave when I should have sought to be a tyrant. Those who know me + may condemn me, but they will respect me too. Pain has taught me that I + must not lay myself open to this a second time. I cannot understand how it + is that I am living yet, after the anguish of that first week of the most + fearful crisis in a woman’s life. Only from three years of loneliness + would it be possible to draw strength to speak of that time as I am + speaking now. Such agony, monsieur, usually ends in death; but this—well, + it was the agony of death with no tomb to end it. Oh! I have known pain + indeed!” + </p> + <p> + The Vicomtesse raised her beautiful eyes to the ceiling; and the cornice, + no doubt, received all the confidences which a stranger might not hear. + When a woman is afraid to look at her interlocutor, there is in truth no + gentler, meeker, more accommodating confidant than the cornice. The + cornice is quite an institution in the boudoir; what is it but the + confessional, <i>minus</i> the priest? + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant was eloquent and beautiful at that moment; nay, + “coquettish,” if the word were not too heavy. By justifying herself and + love, she was stimulating every sentiment in the man before her; nay, + more, the higher she set the goal, the more conspicuous it grew. At last, + when her eyes had lost the too eloquent expression given to them by + painful memories, she let them fall on Gaston. + </p> + <p> + “You acknowledge, do you not, that I am bound to lead a solitary, + self-contained life?” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + So sublime was she in her reasoning and her madness, that M. de Nueil felt + a wild longing to throw himself at her feet; but he was afraid of making + himself ridiculous, so he held his enthusiasm and his thoughts in check. + He was afraid, too, that he might totally fail to express them, and in no + less terror of some awful rejection on her part, or of her mockery, an + apprehension which strikes like ice to the most fervid soul. The revulsion + which led him to crush down every feeling as it sprang up in his heart + cost him the intense pain that diffident and ambitious natures experience + in the frequent crises when they are compelled to stifle their longings. + And yet, in spite of himself, he broke the silence to say in a faltering + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Madame, permit me to give way to one of the strongest emotions of my + life, and own to all that you have made me feel. You set the heart in me + swelling high! I feel within me a longing to make you forget your + mortifications, to devote my life to this, to give you love for all who + ever have given you wounds or hate. But this is a very sudden outpouring + of the heart, nothing can justify it to-day, and I ought not——” + </p> + <p> + “Enough, monsieur,” said Mme. de Beauseant; “we have both of us gone too + far. By giving you the sad reasons for a refusal which I am compelled to + give, I meant to soften it and not to elicit homage. Coquetry only suits a + happy woman. Believe me, we must remain strangers to each other. At a + later day you will know that ties which must inevitably be broken ought + not to be formed at all.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed lightly, and her brows contracted, but almost immediately grew + clear again. + </p> + <p> + “How painful it is for a woman to be powerless to follow the man she loves + through all the phases of his life! And if that man loves her truly, his + heart must surely vibrate with pain to the deep trouble in hers. Are they + not twice unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + There was a short pause. Then she rose smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You little suspected, when you came to Courcelles, that you were to hear + a sermon, did you?” + </p> + <p> + Gaston felt even further than at first from this extraordinary woman. Was + the charm of that delightful hour due after all to the coquetry of the + mistress of the house? She had been anxious to display her wit. He bowed + stiffly to the Vicomtesse, and went away in desperation. + </p> + <p> + On the way home he tried to detect the real character of a creature supple + and hard as a steel spring; but he had seen her pass through so many + phases, that he could not make up his mind about her. The tones of her + voice, too, were ringing in his ears; her gestures, the little movements + of her head, and the varying expression of her eyes grew more gracious in + memory, more fascinating as he thought of them. The Vicomtesse’s beauty + shone out again for him in the darkness; his reviving impressions called + up yet others, and he was enthralled anew by womanly charm and wit, which + at first he had not perceived. He fell to wandering musings, in which the + most lucid thoughts grow refractory and flatly contradict each other, and + the soul passes through a brief frenzy fit. Youth only can understand all + that lies in the dithyrambic outpourings of youth when, after a stormy + siege, of the most frantic folly and coolest common-sense, the heart + finally yields to the assault of the latest comer, be it hope, or despair, + as some mysterious power determines. + </p> + <p> + At three-and-twenty, diffidence nearly always rules a man’s conduct; he is + perplexed with a young girl’s shyness, a girl’s trouble; he is afraid lest + he should express his love ill, sees nothing but difficulties, and takes + alarm at them; he would be bolder if he loved less, for he has no + confidence in himself, and with a growing sense of the cost of happiness + comes a conviction that the woman he loves cannot easily be won; perhaps, + too, he is giving himself up too entirely to his own pleasure, and fears + that he can give none; and when, for his misfortune, his idol inspires him + with awe, he worships in secret and afar, and unless his love is guessed, + it dies away. Then it often happens that one of these dead early loves + lingers on, bright with illusions in many a young heart. What man is there + but keeps within him these virgin memories that grow fairer every time + they rise before him, memories that hold up to him the ideal of perfect + bliss? Such recollections are like children who die in the flower of + childhood, before their parents have known anything of them but their + smiles. + </p> + <p> + So M. de Nueil came home from Courcelles, the victim of a mood fraught + with desperate resolutions. Even now he felt that Mme. de Beauseant was + one of the conditions of his existence, and that death would be preferable + to life without her. He was still young enough to feel the tyrannous + fascination which fully-developed womanhood exerts over immature and + impassioned natures; and, consequently, he was to spend one of those + stormy nights when a young man’s thoughts travel from happiness to suicide + and back again—nights in which youth rushes through a lifetime of + bliss and falls asleep from sheer exhaustion. Fateful nights are they, and + the worst misfortune that can happen is to awake a philosopher afterwards. + M. de Nueil was far too deeply in love to sleep; he rose and betook to + inditing letters, but none of them were satisfactory, and he burned them + all. + </p> + <p> + The next day he went to Courcelles to make the circuit of her garden + walls, but he waited till nightfall; he was afraid that she might see him. + The instinct that led him to act in this way arose out of so obscure a + mood of the soul, that none but a young man, or a man in like case, can + fully understand its mute ecstasies and its vagaries, matter to set those + people who are lucky enough to see life only in its matter-of-fact aspect + shrugging their shoulders. After painful hesitation, Gaston wrote to Mme. + de Beauseant. Here is the letter, which may serve as a sample of the + epistolary style peculiar to lovers, a performance which, like the + drawings prepared with great secrecy by children for the birthdays of + father or mother, is found insufferable by every mortal except the + recipients:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MADAME,—Your power over my heart, my soul, myself, is so great + that my fate depends wholly upon you to-day. Do not throw this + letter into the fire; be so kind as to read it through. Perhaps + you may pardon the opening sentence when you see that it is no + commonplace, selfish declaration, but that it expresses a simple + fact. Perhaps you may feel moved, because I ask for so little, by + the submission of one who feels himself so much beneath you, by + the influence that your decision will exercise upon my life. At my + age, madame, I only know how to love, I am utterly ignorant of + ways of attracting and winning a woman’s love, but in my own heart + I know raptures of adoration of her. I am irresistibly drawn to + you by the great happiness that I feel through you; my thoughts + turn to you with the selfish instinct which bids us draw nearer to + the fire of life when we find it. I do not imagine that I am + worthy of you; it seems impossible that I, young, ignorant, and + shy, could bring you one-thousandth part of the happiness that I + drink in at the sound of your voice and the sight of you. For me + you are the only woman in the world. I cannot imagine life without + you, so I have made up my mind to leave France, and to risk my + life till I lose it in some desperate enterprise, in the Indies, + in Africa, I care not where. How can I quell a love that knows no + limits save by opposing to it something as infinite? Yet, if you + will allow me to hope, not to be yours, but to win your + friendship, I will stay. Let me come, not so very often, if you + require it, to spend a few such hours with you as those stolen + hours of yesterday. The keen delight of that brief happiness to be + cut short at the least over-ardent word from me, will suffice to + enable me to endure the boiling torrent in my veins. Have I + presumed too much upon your generosity by this entreaty to suffer + an intercourse in which all the gain is mine alone? You could find + ways of showing the world, to which you sacrifice so much, that I + am nothing to you; you are so clever and so proud! What have you + to fear? If I could only lay bare my heart to you at this moment, + to convince you that it is with no lurking afterthought that I + make this humble request! Should I have told you that my love was + boundless, while I prayed you to grant me friendship, if I had any + hope of your sharing this feeling in the depths of my soul? No, + while I am with you, I will be whatever you will, if only I may be + with you. If you refuse (as you have the power to refuse), I will + not utter one murmur, I will go. And if, at a later day, any other + woman should enter into my life, you will have proof that you were + right; but if I am faithful till death, you may feel some regret + perhaps. The hope of causing you a regret will soothe my agony, + and that thought shall be the sole revenge of a slighted + heart....” + </pre> + <p> + Only those who have passed through all the exceeding tribulations of + youth, who have seized on all the chimeras with two white pinions, the + nightmare fancies at the disposal of a fervid imagination, can realize the + horrors that seized upon Gaston de Nueil when he had reason to suppose + that his ultimatum was in Mme. de Beauseant’s hands. He saw the + Vicomtesse, wholly untouched, laughing at his letter and his love, as + those can laugh who have ceased to believe in love. He could have wished + to have his letter back again. It was an absurd letter. There were a + thousand and one things, now that he came to think of it, that he might + have said, things infinitely better and more moving than those stilted + phrases of his, those accursed, sophisticated, pretentious, fine-spun + phrases, though, luckily, the punctuation had been pretty bad and the + lines shockingly crooked. He tried not to think, not to feel; but he felt + and thought, and was wretched. If he had been thirty years old, he might + have got drunk, but the innocence of three-and-twenty knew nothing of the + resources of opium nor of the expedients of advanced civilization. Nor had + he at hand one of those good friends of the Parisian pattern who + understand so well how to say <i>Poete, non dolet!</i> by producing a + bottle of champagne, or alleviate the agony of suspense by carrying you + off somewhere to make a night of it. Capital fellows are they, always in + low water when you are in funds, always off to some watering-place when + you go to look them up, always with some bad bargain in horse-flesh to + sell you; it is true, that when you want to borrow of them, they have + always just lost their last louis at play; but in all other respects they + are the best fellows on earth, always ready to embark with you on one of + the steep down-grades where you lose your time, your soul, and your life! + </p> + <p> + At length M. de Nueil received a missive through the instrumentality of + Jacques, a letter that bore the arms of Burgundy on the scented seal, a + letter written on vellum notepaper. + </p> + <p> + He rushed away at once to lock himself in, and read and re-read <i>her</i> + letter:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “You are punishing me very severely, monsieur, both for the + friendliness of my effort to spare you a rebuff, and for the + attraction which intellect always has for me. I put confidence in + the generosity of youth, and you have disappointed me. And yet, if + I did not speak unreservedly (which would have been perfectly + ridiculous), at any rate I spoke frankly of my position, so that + you might imagine that I was not to be touched by a young soul. My + distress is the keener for my interest in you. I am naturally + tender-hearted and kindly, but circumstances force me to act + unkindly. Another woman would have flung your letter, unread, into + the fire; I read it, and I am answering it. My answer will make it + clear to you that while I am not untouched by the expression of + this feeling which I have inspired, albeit unconsciously, I am + still far from sharing it, and the step which I am about to take + will show you still more plainly that I mean what I say. I wish + besides, to use, for your welfare, that authority, as it were, + which you give me over your life; and I desire to exercise it this + once to draw aside the veil from your eyes. + + “I am nearly thirty years old, monsieur; you are barely + two-and-twenty. You yourself cannot know what your thoughts will + be at my age. The vows that you make so lightly to-day may seem a + very heavy burden to you then. I am quite willing to believe that + at this moment you would give me your whole life without a regret, + you would even be ready to die for a little brief happiness; but + at the age of thirty experience will take from you the very power + of making daily sacrifices for my sake, and I myself should feel + deeply humiliated if I accepted them. A day would come when + everything, even Nature, would bid you leave me, and I have + already told you that death is preferable to desertion. Misfortune + has taught me to calculate; as you see, I am arguing perfectly + dispassionately. You force me to tell you that I have no love for + you; I ought not to love, I cannot, and I will not. It is too late + to yield, as women yield, to a blind unreasoning impulse of the + heart, too late to be the mistress whom you seek. My consolations + spring from God, not from earth. Ah, and besides, with the + melancholy insight of disappointed love, I read hearts too clearly + to accept your proffered friendship. It is only instinct. I + forgive the boyish ruse, for which you are not responsible as yet. + In the name of this passing fancy of yours, for the sake of your + career and my own peace of mind, I bid you stay in your own + country; you must not spoil a fair and honorable life for an + illusion which, by its very nature, cannot last. At a later day, + when you have accomplished your real destiny, in the fully + developed manhood that awaits you, you will appreciate this answer + of mine, though to-day it may be that you blame its hardness. You + will turn with pleasure to an old woman whose friendship will + certainly be sweet and precious to you then; a friendship untried + by the extremes of passion and the disenchanting processes of + life; a friendship which noble thoughts and thoughts of religion + will keep pure and sacred. Farewell; do my bidding with the + thought that your success will bring a gleam of pleasure into my + solitude, and only think of me as we think of absent friends.” + </pre> + <p> + Gaston de Nueil read the letter, and wrote the following lines:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MADAME,—If I could cease to love you, to take the chances of + becoming an ordinary man which you hold out to me, you must admit + that I should thoroughly deserve my fate. No, I shall not do as + you bid me; the oath of fidelity which I swear to you shall only + be absolved by death. Ah! take my life, unless indeed you do not + fear to carry a remorse all through your own——” + </pre> + <p> + When the man returned from his errand, M. de Nueil asked him with whom he + left the note? + </p> + <p> + “I gave it to Mme. la Vicomtesse herself, sir; she was in her carriage and + just about to start.” + </p> + <p> + “For the town?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so, sir. Mme. la Vicomtesse had post-horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! then she is going away,” said the Baron. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” the man answered. + </p> + <p> + Gaston de Nueil at once prepared to follow Mme. de Beauseant. She led the + way as far as Geneva, without a suspicion that he followed. And he? Amid + the many thoughts that assailed him during that journey, one all-absorbing + problem filled his mind—“Why did she go away?” Theories grew thickly + on such ground for supposition, and naturally he inclined to the one that + flattered his hopes—“If the Vicomtesse cares for me, a clever woman + would, of course, choose Switzerland, where nobody knows either of us, in + preference to France, where she would find censorious critics.” + </p> + <p> + An impassioned lover of a certain stamp would not feel attracted to a + woman clever enough to choose her own ground; such women are too clever. + However, there is nothing to prove that there was any truth in Gaston’s + supposition. + </p> + <p> + The Vicomtesse took a small house by the side of the lake. As soon as she + was installed in it, Gaston came one summer evening in the twilight. + Jacques, that flunkey in grain, showed no sign of surprise, and announced + <i>M. le Baron de Nueil</i> like a discreet domestic well acquainted with + good society. At the sound of the name, at the sight of its owner, Mme. de + Beauseant let her book fall from her hands; her surprise gave him time to + come close to her, and to say in tones that sounded like music in her + ears: + </p> + <p> + “What a joy it was to me to take the horses that brought you on this + journey!” + </p> + <p> + To have the inmost desires of the heart so fulfilled! Where is the woman + who could resist such happiness as this? An Italian woman, one of those + divine creatures who, psychologically, are as far removed from the + Parisian as if they lived at the Antipodes, a being who would be regarded + as profoundly immoral on this side of the Alps, an Italian (to resume) + made the following comment on some French novels which she had been + reading. “I cannot see,” she remarked, “why these poor lovers take such a + time over coming to an arrangement which ought to be the affair of a + single morning.” Why should not the novelist take a hint from this worthy + lady, and refrain from exhausting the theme and the reader? Some few + passages of coquetry it would certainly be pleasant to give in outline; + the story of Mme. de Beauseant’s demurs and sweet delayings, that, like + the vestal virgins of antiquity, she might fall gracefully, and by + lingering over the innocent raptures of first love draw from it its utmost + strength and sweetness. M. de Nueil was at an age when a man is the dupe + of these caprices, of the fence which women delight to prolong; either to + dictate their own terms, or to enjoy the sense of their power yet longer, + knowing instinctively as they do that it must soon grow less. But, after + all, these little boudoir protocols, less numerous than those of the + Congress of London, are too small to be worth mention in the history of + this passion. + </p> + <p> + For three years Mme. de Beauseant and M. de Nueil lived in the villa on + the lake of Geneva. They lived quite alone, received no visitors, caused + no talk, rose late, went out together upon the lake, knew, in short, the + happiness of which we all of us dream. It was a simple little house, with + green shutters, and broad balconies shaded with awnings, a house contrived + of set purpose for lovers, with its white couches, soundless carpets, and + fresh hangings, everything within it reflecting their joy. Every window + looked out on some new view of the lake; in the far distance lay the + mountains, fantastic visions of changing color and evanescent cloud; above + them spread the sunny sky, before them stretched the broad sheet of water, + never the same in its fitful changes. All their surroundings seemed to + dream for them, all things smiled upon them. + </p> + <p> + Then weighty matters recalled M. de Nueil to France. His father and + brother died, and he was obliged to leave Geneva. The lovers bought the + house; and if they could have had their way, they would have removed the + hills piecemeal, drawn off the lake with a siphon, and taken everything + away with them. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant followed M. de Nueil. She realized her property, and + bought a considerable estate near Manerville, adjoining Gaston’s lands, + and here they lived together; Gaston very graciously giving up Manerville + to his mother for the present in consideration of the bachelor freedom in + which she left him. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant’s estate was close to a little town in one of the most + picturesque spots in the valley of the Auge. Here the lovers raised + barriers between themselves and social intercourse, barriers which no + creature could overleap, and here the happy days of Switzerland were lived + over again. For nine whole years they knew happiness which it serves no + purpose to describe; happiness which may be divined from the outcome of + the story by those whose souls can comprehend poetry and prayer in their + infinite manifestations. + </p> + <p> + All this time Mme. de Beauseant’s husband, the present Marquis (his father + and elder brother having died), enjoyed the soundest health. There is no + better aid to life than a certain knowledge that our demise would confer a + benefit on some fellow-creature. M. de Beauseant was one of those ironical + and wayward beings who, like holders of life-annuities, wake with an + additional sense of relish every morning to a consciousness of good + health. For the rest, he was a man of the world, somewhat methodical and + ceremonious, and a calculator of consequences, who could make a + declaration of love as quietly as a lackey announces that “Madame is + served.” + </p> + <p> + This brief biographical notice of his lordship the Marquis de Beauseant is + given to explain the reasons why it was impossible for the Marquise to + marry M. de Nueil. + </p> + <p> + So, after a nine years’ lease of happiness, the sweetest agreement to + which a woman ever put her hand, M. de Nueil and Mme. de Beauseant were + still in a position quite as natural and quite as false as at the + beginning of their adventure. And yet they had reached a fatal crisis, + which may be stated as clearly as any problem in mathematics. + </p> + <p> + Mme. la Comtesse de Nueil, Gaston’s mother, a strait-laced and virtuous + person, who had made the late Baron happy in strictly legal fashion would + never consent to meet Mme. de Beauseant. Mme. de Beauseant quite + understood that the worthy dowager must of necessity be her enemy, and + that she would try to draw Gaston from his unhallowed and immoral way of + life. The Marquise de Beauseant would willingly have sold her property and + gone back to Geneva, but she could not bring herself to do it; it would + mean that she distrusted M. de Nueil. Moreover, he had taken a great fancy + to this very Valleroy estate, where he was making plantations and + improvements. She would not deprive him of a piece of pleasurable + routine-work, such as women always wish for their husbands, and even for + their lovers. + </p> + <p> + A Mlle. de la Rodiere, twenty-two years of age, an heiress with a + rent-roll of forty thousand livres, had come to live in the neighborhood. + Gaston always met her at Manerville whenever he was obliged to go thither. + These various personages being to each other as the terms of a proportion + sum, the following letter will throw light on the appalling problem which + Mme. de Beauseant had been trying for the past month to solve:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My beloved angel, it seems like nonsense, does it not, to write + to you when there is nothing to keep us apart, when a caress so + often takes the place of words, and words too are caresses? Ah, + well, no, love. There are some things that a woman cannot say when + she is face to face with the man she loves; at the bare thought of + them her voice fails her, and the blood goes back to her heart; + she has no strength, no intelligence left. It hurts me to feel + like this when you are near me, and it happens often. I feel that + my heart should be wholly sincere for you; that I should disguise + no thought, however transient, in my heart; and I love the sweet + carelessness, which suits me so well, too much to endure this + embarrassment and constraint any longer. So I will tell you about + my anguish—yes, it is anguish. Listen to me! do not begin with + the little ‘Tut, tut, tut,’ that you use to silence me, an + impertinence that I love, because anything from you pleases me. + Dear soul from heaven, wedded to mine, let me first tell you that + you have effaced all memory of the pain that once was crushing the + life out of me. I did not know what love was before I knew you. + Only the candor of your beautiful young life, only the purity of + that great soul of yours, could satisfy the requirements of an + exacting woman’s heart. Dear love, how very often I have thrilled + with joy to think that in these nine long, swift years, my + jealousy has not been once awakened. All the flowers of your soul + have been mine, all your thoughts. There has not been the faintest + cloud in our heaven; we have not known what sacrifice is; we have + always acted on the impulses of our hearts. I have known + happiness, infinite for a woman. Will the tears that drench this + sheet tell you all my gratitude? I could wish that I had knelt to + write the words!—Well, out of this felicity has arisen torture + more terrible than the pain of desertion. Dear, there are very + deep recesses in a woman’s heart; how deep in my own heart, I did + not know myself until to-day, as I did not know the whole extent + of love. The greatest misery which could overwhelm us is a light + burden compared with the mere thought of harm for him whom we + love. And how if we cause the harm, is it not enough to make one + die?... This is the thought that is weighing upon me. But + it brings in its train another thought that is heavier far, a + thought that tarnishes the glory of love, and slays it, and turns + it into a humiliation which sullies life as long as it lasts. You + are thirty years old; I am forty. What dread this difference in + age calls up in a woman who loves! It is possible that, first of + all unconsciously, afterwards in earnest, you have felt the + sacrifices that you have made by renouncing all in the world for + me. Perhaps you have thought of your future from the social point + of view, of the marriage which would, of course, increase your + fortune, and give you avowed happiness and children who would + inherit your wealth; perhaps you have thought of reappearing in + the world, and filling your place there honorably. And then, if + so, you must have repressed those thoughts, and felt glad to + sacrifice heiress and fortune and a fair future to me without my + knowledge. In your young man’s generosity, you must have resolved + to be faithful to the vows which bind us each to each in the sight + of God. My past pain has risen up before your mind, and the misery + from which you rescued me has been my protection. To owe your love + to your pity! The thought is even more painful to me than the fear + of spoiling your life for you. The man who can bring himself to + stab his mistress is very charitable if he gives her her deathblow + while she is happy and ignorant of evil, while illusions are in + full blossom.... Yes, death is preferable to the two thoughts + which have secretly saddened the hours for several days. To-day, + when you asked ‘What ails you?’ so tenderly, the sound of your + voice made me shiver. I thought that, after your wont, you were + reading my very soul, and I waited for your confidence to come, + thinking that my presentiments had come true, and that I had + guessed all that was going on in your mind. Then I began to think + over certain little things that you always do for me, and I + thought I could see in you the sort of affection by which a man + betrays a consciousness that his loyalty is becoming a burden. And + in that moment I paid very dear for my happiness. I felt that + Nature always demands the price for the treasure called love. + Briefly, has not fate separated us? Can you have said, ‘Sooner or + later I must leave poor Claire; why not separate in time?’ I read + that thought in the depths of your eyes, and went away to cry by + myself. Hiding my tears from you! the first tears that I have shed + for sorrow for these ten years; I am too proud to let you see + them, but I did not reproach you in the least. + + “Yes, you are right. I ought not to be so selfish as to bind your + long and brilliant career to my so-soon out-worn life.... And + yet—how if I have been mistaken? How if I have taken your love + melancholy for a deliberation? Oh, my love, do not leave me in + suspense; punish this jealous wife of yours, but give her back the + sense of her love and yours; the whole woman lies in that—that + consciousness sanctifies everything. + + “Since your mother came, since you paid a visit to Mlle. de + Rodiere, I have been gnawed by doubts dishonoring to us both. Make + me suffer for this, but do not deceive me; I want to know + everything that your mother said and that you think! If you have + hesitated between some alternative and me, I give you back your + liberty.... I will not let you know what happens to me; I will + not shed tears for you to see; only—I will not see you again.... + Ah! I cannot go on, my heart is breaking.................. + I have been sitting benumbed and stupid for some moments. Dear love, + I do not find that any feeling of pride rises against you; you are so + kind-hearted, so open; you would find it impossible to hurt me or + to deceive me; and you will tell me the truth, however cruel it may + be. Do you wish me to encourage your confession? Well, then, heart + of mine, I shall find comfort in a woman’s thought. Has not the + youth of your being been mine, your sensitive, wholly gracious, + beautiful, and delicate youth? No woman shall find henceforth the + Gaston whom I have known, nor the delicious happiness that he has + given me.... No; you will never love again as you have loved, + as you love me now; no, I shall never have a rival, it is + impossible. There will be no bitterness in my memories of our + love, and I shall think of nothing else. It is out of your power + to enchant any woman henceforth by the childish provocations, the + charming ways of a young heart, the soul’s winning charm, the + body’s grace, the swift communion of rapture, the whole divine + cortege of young love, in fine. + + “Oh, you are a man now, you will obey your destiny, weighing and + considering all things. You will have cares, and anxieties, and + ambitions, and concerns that will rob <i>her</i> of the unchanging + smile that made your lips fair for me. The tones that were always + so sweet for me will be troubled at times; and your eyes that + lighted up with radiance from heaven at the sight of me, will + often be lustreless for <i>her</i>. And besides, as it is impossible to + love you as I love you, you will never care for that woman as you + have cared for me. She will never keep a constant watch over + herself as I have done; she will never study your happiness at + every moment with an intuition which has never failed me. Ah, yes, + the man, the heart and soul, which I shall have known will exist + no longer. I shall bury him deep in my memory, that I may have the + joy of him still; I shall live happy in that fair past life of + ours, a life hidden from all but our inmost selves. + + “Dear treasure of mine, if all the while no least thought of + liberty has risen in your mind, if my love is no burden on you, if + my fears are chimerical, if I am still your Eve—the one woman in + the world for you—come to me as soon as you have read this + letter, come quickly! Ah, in one moment I will love you more than + I have ever loved you, I think, in these nine years. After + enduring the needless torture of these doubts of which I am + accusing myself, every added day of love, yes, every single day, + will be a whole lifetime of bliss. So speak, and speak openly; do + not deceive me, it would be a crime. Tell me, do you wish for your + liberty? Have you thought of all that a man’s life means? Is there + any regret in your mind? That <i>I</i> should cause you a regret! I + should die of it. I have said it: I love you enough to set your + happiness above mine, your life before my own. Leave on one side, + if you can, the wealth of memories of our nine years’ happiness, + that they may not influence your decision, but speak! I submit + myself to you as to God, the one Consoler who remains if you + forsake me.” + </pre> + <p> + When Mme. de Beauseant knew that her letter was in M. de Nueil’s hands, + she sank in such utter prostration, the over-pressure of many thoughts so + numbed her faculties, that she seemed almost drowsy. At any rate, she was + suffering from a pain not always proportioned in its intensity to a + woman’s strength; pain which women alone know. And while the unhappy + Marquise awaited her doom, M. de Nueil, reading her letter, felt that he + was “in a very difficult position,” to use the expression that young men + apply to a crisis of this kind. + </p> + <p> + By this time he had all but yielded to his mother’s importunities and to + the attractions of Mlle. de la Rodiere, a somewhat insignificant, + pink-and-white young person, as straight as a poplar. It is true that, in + accordance with the rules laid down for marriageable young ladies, she + scarcely opened her mouth, but her rent-roll of forty thousand livres + spoke quite sufficiently for her. Mme. de Nueil, with a mother’s sincere + affection, tried to entangle her son in virtuous courses. She called his + attention to the fact that it was a flattering distinction to be preferred + by Mlle. de la Rodiere, who had refused so many great matches; it was + quite time, she urged, that he should think of his future, such a good + opportunity might not repeat itself, some day he would have eighty + thousand livres of income from land; money made everything bearable; if + Mme. de Beauseant loved him for his own sake, she ought to be the first to + urge him to marry. In short, the well-intentioned mother forgot no + arguments which the feminine intellect can bring to bear upon the + masculine mind, and by these means she had brought her son into a wavering + condition. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant’s letter arrived just as Gaston’s love of her was + holding out against the temptations of a settled life conformable to + received ideas. That letter decided the day. He made up his mind to break + off with the Marquise and to marry. + </p> + <p> + “One must live a man’s life,” said he to himself. + </p> + <p> + Then followed some inkling of the pain that this decision would give to + Mme. de Beauseant. The man’s vanity and the lover’s conscience further + exaggerated this pain, and a sincere pity for her seized upon him. All at + once the immensity of the misery became apparent to him, and he thought it + necessary and charitable to deaden the deadly blow. He hoped to bring Mme. + de Beauseant to a calm frame of mind by gradually reconciling her to the + idea of separation; while Mlle. de la Rodiere, always like a shadowy third + between them, should be sacrificed to her at first, only to be imposed + upon her later. His marriage should take place later, in obedience to Mme. + de Beauseant’s expressed wish. He went so far as to enlist the Marquise’s + nobleness and pride and all the great qualities of her nature to help him + to succeed in this compassionate design. He would write a letter at once + to allay her suspicions. <i>A letter!</i> For a woman with the most + exquisite feminine perception, as well as the intuition of passionate + love, a letter in itself was a sentence of death. + </p> + <p> + So when Jacques came and brought Mme. de Beauseant a sheet of paper folded + in a triangle, she trembled, poor woman, like a snared swallow. A + mysterious sensation of physical cold spread from head to foot, wrapping + her about in an icy winding sheet. If he did not rush to her feet, if he + did not come to her in tears, and pale, and like a lover, she knew that + all was lost. And yet, so many hopes are there in the heart of a woman who + loves, that she is only slain by stab after stab, and loves on till the + last drop of life-blood drains away. + </p> + <p> + “Does madame need anything?” Jacques asked gently, as he went away. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” she thought, brushing a tear from her eyes, “he guesses my + feelings, servant though he is!” + </p> + <p> + She read: “My beloved, you are inventing idle terrors for yourself...” The + Marquise gazed at the words, and a thick mist spread before her eyes. A + voice in her heart cried, “He lies!”—Then she glanced down the page + with the clairvoyant eagerness of passion, and read these words at the + foot, “<i>Nothing has been decided as yet...</i>” Turning to the other + side with convulsive quickness, she saw the mind of the writer distinctly + through the intricacies of the wording; this was no spontaneous outburst + of love. She crushed it in her fingers, twisted it, tore it with her + teeth, flung it in the fire, and cried aloud, “Ah! base that he is! I was + his, and he had ceased to love me!” + </p> + <p> + She sank half dead upon the couch. + </p> + <p> + M. de Nueil went out as soon as he had written his letter. When he came + back, Jacques met him on the threshold with a note. “Madame la Marquise + has left the chateau,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + M. de Nueil, in amazement, broke the seal and read:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “MADAME,—If I could cease to love you, to take the chances of + becoming an ordinary man which you hold out to me, you must admit + that I should thoroughly deserve my fate. No, I shall not do as + you bid me; the oath of fidelity which I swear to you shall only + be absolved by death. Ah! take my life, unless indeed you do not + fear to carry a remorse all through your own...” + </pre> + <p> + It was his own letter, written to the Marquise as she set out for Geneva + nine years before. At the foot of it Claire de Bourgogne had written, + “Monsieur, you are free.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Nueil went to his mother at Manerville. In less than three weeks he + married Mlle. Stephanie de la Rodiere. + </p> + <p> + If this commonplace story of real life ended here, it would be to some + extent a sort of mystification. The first man you meet can tell you a + better. But the widespread fame of the catastrophe (for, unhappily, this + is a true tale), and all the memories which it may arouse in those who + have known the divine delights of infinite passion, and lost them by their + own deed, or through the cruelty of fate,—these things may perhaps + shelter the story from criticism. + </p> + <p> + Mme. la Marquise de Beauseant never left Valleroy after her parting from + M. de Nueil. After his marriage she still continued to live there, for + some inscrutable woman’s reason; any woman is at liberty to assign the one + which most appeals to her. Claire de Bourgogne lived in such complete + retirement that none of the servants, save Jacques and her own woman, ever + saw their mistress. She required absolute silence all about her, and only + left her room to go to the chapel on the Valleroy estate, whither a + neighboring priest came to say mass every morning. + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Nueil sank a few days after his marriage into something like + conjugal apathy, which might be interpreted to mean happiness or + unhappiness equally easily. + </p> + <p> + “My son is perfectly happy,” his mother said everywhere. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Gaston de Nueil, like a great many young women, was a rather + colorless character, sweet and passive. A month after her marriage she had + expectations of becoming a mother. All this was quite in accordance with + ordinary views. M. de Nueil was very nice to her; but two months after his + separation from the Marquise, he grew notably thoughtful and abstracted. + But then he always had been serious, his mother said. + </p> + <p> + After seven months of this tepid happiness, a little thing occurred, one + of those seemingly small matters which imply such great development of + thought and such widespread trouble of the soul, that only the bare fact + can be recorded; the interpretation of it must be left to the fancy of + each individual mind. One day, when M. de Nueil had been shooting over the + lands of Manerville and Valleroy, he crossed Mme. de Beauseant’s park on + his way home, summoned Jacques, and when the man came, asked him, “Whether + the Marquise was as fond of game as ever?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques answering in the affirmative, Gaston offered him a good round sum + (accompanied by plenty of specious reasoning) for a very little service. + Would he set aside for the Marquise the game that the Count would bring? + It seemed to Jacques to be a matter of no great importance whether the + partridge on which his mistress dined had been shot by her keeper or by M. + de Nueil, especially since the latter particularly wished that the + Marquise should know nothing about it. + </p> + <p> + “It was killed on her land,” said the Count, and for some days Jacques + lent himself to the harmless deceit. Day after day M. de Nueil went + shooting, and came back at dinner-time with an empty bag. A whole week + went by in this way. Gaston grew bold enough to write a long letter to the + Marquise, and had it conveyed to her. It was returned to him unopened. The + Marquise’s servant brought it back about nightfall. The Count, sitting in + the drawing-room listening, while his wife at the piano mangled a <i>Caprice</i> + of Herold’s, suddenly sprang up and rushed out to the Marquise, as if he + were flying to an assignation. He dashed through a well-known gap into the + park, and went slowly along the avenues, stopping now and again for a + little to still the loud beating of his heart. Smothered sounds as he came + nearer the chateau told him that the servants must be at supper, and he + went straight to Mme. de Beauseant’s room. + </p> + <p> + Mme. de Beauseant never left her bedroom. M. de Nueil could gain the + doorway without making the slightest sound. There, by the light of two wax + candles, he saw the thin, white Marquise in a great armchair; her head was + bowed, her hands hung listlessly, her eyes gazing fixedly at some object + which she did not seem to see. Her whole attitude spoke of hopeless pain. + There was a vague something like hope in her bearing, but it was + impossible to say whither Claire de Bourgogne was looking—forwards + to the tomb or backwards into the past. Perhaps M. de Nueil’s tears + glittered in the deep shadows; perhaps his breathing sounded faintly; + perhaps unconsciously he trembled, or again it may have been impossible + that he should stand there, his presence unfelt by that quick sense which + grows to be an instinct, the glory, the delight, the proof of perfect + love. However it was, Mme. de Beauseant slowly turned her face towards the + doorway, and beheld her lover of bygone days. Then Gaston de Nueil came + forward a few paces. + </p> + <p> + “If you come any further, sir,” exclaimed the Marquise, growing paler, “I + shall fling myself out of the window!” + </p> + <p> + She sprang to the window, flung it open, and stood with one foot on the + ledge, her hand upon the iron balustrade, her face turned towards Gaston. + </p> + <p> + “Go out! go out!” she cried, “or I will throw myself over.” + </p> + <p> + At that dreadful cry the servants began to stir, and M. de Nueil fled like + a criminal. + </p> + <p> + When he reached his home again he wrote a few lines and gave them to his + own man, telling him to give the letter himself into Mme. de Beauseant’s + hands, and to say that it was a matter of life and death for his master. + The messenger went. M. de Nueil went back to the drawing-room where his + wife was still murdering the <i>Caprice</i>, and sat down to wait till the + answer came. An hour later, when the <i>Caprice</i> had come to an end, + and the husband and wife sat in silence on opposite sides of the hearth, + the man came back from Valleroy and gave his master his own letter, + unopened. + </p> + <p> + M. de Nueil went into a small room beyond the drawing-room, where he had + left his rifle, and shot himself. + </p> + <p> + The swift and fatal ending of the drama, contrary as it is to all the + habits of young France, is only what might have been expected. Those who + have closely observed, or known for themselves by delicious experience, + all that is meant by the perfect union of two beings, will understand + Gaston de Nueil’s suicide perfectly well. A woman does not bend and form + herself in a day to the caprices of passion. The pleasure of loving, like + some rare flower, needs the most careful ingenuity of culture. Time alone, + and two souls attuned each to each, can discover all its resources, and + call into being all the tender and delicate delights for which we are + steeped in a thousand superstitions, imagining them to be inherent in the + heart that lavishes them upon us. It is this wonderful response of one + nature to another, this religious belief, this certainty of finding + peculiar or excessive happiness in the presence of one we love, that + accounts in part for perdurable attachments and long-lived passion. If a + woman possesses the genius of her sex, love never comes to be a matter of + use and wont. She brings all her heart and brain to love, clothes her + tenderness in forms so varied, there is such art in her most natural + moments, or so much nature in her art, that in absence her memory is + almost as potent as her presence. All other women are as shadows compared + with her. Not until we have lost or known the dread of losing a love so + vast and glorious, do we prize it at its just worth. And if a man who has + once possessed this love shuts himself out from it by his own act and + deed, and sinks to some loveless marriage; if by some incident, hidden in + the obscurity of married life, the woman with whom he hoped to know the + same felicity makes it clear that it will never be revived for him; if, + with the sweetness of divine love still on his lips, he has dealt a deadly + wound to <i>her</i>, his wife in truth, whom he forsook for a social + chimera,—then he must either die or take refuge in a materialistic, + selfish, and heartless philosophy, from which impassioned souls shrink in + horror. + </p> + <p> + As for Mme. de Beauseant, she doubtless did not imagine that her friend’s + despair could drive him to suicide, when he had drunk deep of love for + nine years. Possibly she may have thought that she alone was to suffer. At + any rate, she did quite rightly to refuse the most humiliating of all + positions; a wife may stoop for weighty social reasons to a kind of + compromise which a mistress is bound to hold in abhorrence, for in the + purity of her passion lies all its justification. + </p> + <p> + ANGOULEME, September 1832. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Beauseant, Marquis and Comte de + Father Goriot + An Episode under the Terror + + Beauseant, Marquise de + Letters of Two Brides + + Beauseant, Vicomte de + Father Goriot + + Beauseant, Vicomtesse de + Father Goriot + Albert Savarus + + Champignelles, De + The Seamy Side of History + + Jacques (M. de Beauseant’s butler) + Father Goriot + + Nueil, Gaston de + The Deserted Woman + Albert Savarus +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Deserted Woman, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESERTED WOMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 1729-h.htm or 1729-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2/1729/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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