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diff --git a/old/dswmn10.txt b/old/dswmn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..168dbcf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/dswmn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2002 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext The Deserted Woman, by Honore de Balzac +#64 in our series by Honore de Balzac + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com +and John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz + + + + + +THE DESERTED WOMAN + +by HONORE DE BALZAC + + + + +Translated By +Ellen Marriage + + + + + +DEDICATION + +To Her Grace the Duchesse d'Abrantes, +from her devoted servant, +Honore de Balzac. +PARIS, August 1835. + + + + +THE DESERTED WOMAN + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, /minus/ 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 /incognito/ 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. + +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. /Her/ 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 /Gazette/ and the /Debats/, +the other family only read the /Quotidienne/. + +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 /Ass laden with Relics/. The good man's origin is +distinctly plebeian. + +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 /faisance-valoir/, more interested in felling timber and the +cider prospects than in the Monarchy. + +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 /dots/, 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. + +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 /genius loci/ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +If a stranger is admitted to the /cenacle/, 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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"I went this morning. She was so poorly and depressed, that I could +not persuade her to dine with us to-morrow." + +"With Mme. de Champignelles?" exclaimed the dowager with something +like astonishment in her manner. + +"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----" + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +"Bah! I shall see /her/," he said over and over again to himself as he +dressed. "See her, and that is everything!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I would rather not frighten people, at all events," she said to +herself as she arranged her hair. + +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. + +"M. le Baron de Nueil." + +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. + +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 /bergere/ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"I have heard from M. de Champignelles of a message which you have +kindly undertaken to deliver, monsieur," she said. "Can it be +from----" + +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. + +"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----" + +The Vicomtesse glanced at M. de Nueil, haughty disdain in her whole +manner. She stretched her hand to the bell and rang it. + +"Jacques," she said, "light this gentleman to the door," and she +looked with dignity at the visitor. + +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. + +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. + +As he crossed the ante-chamber, a clear head, and wits sharpened by +passion, were not slow to grasp the danger of his situation. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"Very well, take a seat," she said. + +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. + +"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----" + +"Ah! take care," she said, holding up one finger with an air of +mystery, as she put out her hand towards the bell. + +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. + +"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 /passionately/ 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." + +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." + +There was a brief pause. + +"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." + +She said no more, but looked at him with a great dignity which abashed +him. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"Oh! madame, how could any man have left you?" + +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 /roue/ 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. + +"Ah! madame, do not punish me for my heedlessness. If you grant me but +one evening, vouchsafe not to shorten it." + +She smiled at the pretty speech. + +"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." + +"It is too late now," he said. + +"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 . . ." + +She paused. + +"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!" + +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, /minus/ the priest? + +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. + +"You acknowledge, do you not, that I am bound to lead a solitary, +self-contained life?" she said quietly. + +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: + +"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----" + +"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." + +She sighed lightly, and her brows contracted, but almost immediately +grew clear again. + +"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?" + +There was a short pause. Then she rose smiling. + +"You little suspected, when you came to Courcelles, that you were to +hear a sermon, did you?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +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:-- + + "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. . . ." + +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 +/Poete, non dolet!/ 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! + +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. + +He rushed away at once to lock himself in, and read and re-read /her/ +letter:-- + + "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." + +Gaston de Nueil read the letter, and wrote the following lines:-- + + "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----" + +When the man returned from his errand, M. de Nueil asked him with whom +he left the note? + +"I gave it to Mme. la Vicomtesse herself, sir; she was in her carriage +and just about to start." + +"For the town?" + +"I don't think so, sir. Mme. la Vicomtesse had post-horses." + +"Ah! then she is going away," said the Baron. + +"Yes, sir," the man answered. + +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." + +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. + +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 /M. le Baron de Nueil/ 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: + +"What a joy it was to me to take the horses that brought you on this +journey!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + + "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 /her/ 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 /her/. 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/ 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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"One must live a man's life," said he to himself. + +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. /A letter!/ 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. + +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. + +"Does madame need anything?" Jacques asked gently, as he went away. + +"No," she said. + +"Poor fellow!" she thought, brushing a tear from her eyes, "he guesses +my feelings, servant though he is!" + +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, "/Nothing has been decided as +yet . . ./" 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!" + +She sank half dead upon the couch. + + + +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. + +M. de Nueil, in amazement, broke the seal and read:-- + + "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 . . ." + +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." + +M. de Nueil went to his mother at Manerville. In less than three weeks +he married Mlle. Stephanie de la Rodiere. + + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"My son is perfectly happy," his mother said everywhere. + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +"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 /Caprice/ 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. + +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. + +"If you come any further, sir," exclaimed the Marquise, growing paler, +"I shall fling myself out of the window!" + +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. + +"Go out! go out!" she cried, "or I will throw myself over." + +At that dreadful cry the servants began to stir, and M. de Nueil fled +like a criminal. + +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 /Caprice/, and sat +down to wait till the answer came. An hour later, when the /Caprice/ +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. + +M. de Nueil went into a small room beyond the drawing-room, where he +had left his rifle, and shot himself. + +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 /her/, 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. + + + +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. + + + +ANGOULEME, September 1832. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +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 + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Deserted Woman, by Honore de Balzac + |