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diff --git a/2123-h/2123-h.htm b/2123-h/2123-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f828f3f --- /dev/null +++ b/2123-h/2123-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9235 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard, by Anatole France + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard, by Anatole France + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard + +Author: Anatole France + +Release Date: March, 2000 [EBook #2123] +Last Updated: October 5, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD *** + + + + +Produced by Brett Fishburne and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Anatole France + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> <big><b>PART I—THE LOG</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> December 24, 1849. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> August 30, 1850 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> May 7, 1851 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> July 8, 1852. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> August 20, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> October 10, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> October 25, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> Naples, November 10, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> Monte-Allegro, November 30, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> Girgenti. Same day. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Girgenti, November 30, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> Paris, December 8, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> December 30, 1859. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <big><b>PART II—THE DAUGHTER OF CLEMENTINE</b></big> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I—The Fairy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> <b>Chapter IV—The Little Saint-George</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> April 16. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> April 17. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> From May 2 to May 5. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> June 3. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> June 4. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> June 6. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> July 6. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> August 12. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> September-December. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> December 15. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> December 20. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> February 186-. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> April-June </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> August, September. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> October 3. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> December 28. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> December 29. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> January 15, 186-. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> May. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> September 20. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> The Last Page </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> August 21, 1869. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PART I—THE LOG + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + December 24, 1849. + </h2> + <p> + I had put on my slippers and my dressing-gown. I wiped away a tear with + which the north wind blowing over the quay had obscured my vision. A + bright fire was leaping in the chimney of my study. Ice-crystals, shaped + like fern-leaves, were sprouting over the windowpanes and concealed from + me the Seine with its bridges and the Louvre of the Valois. + </p> + <p> + I drew up my easy-chair to the hearth, and my table-volante, and took up + so much of my place by the fire as Hamilcar deigned to allow me. Hamilcar + was lying in front of the andirons, curled up on a cushion, with his nose + between his paws. His think find fur rose and fell with his regular + breathing. At my coming, he slowly slipped a glance of his agate eyes at + me from between his half-opened lids, which he closed again almost at + once, thinking to himself, “It is nothing; it is only my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Hamilcar,” I said to him, as I stretched my legs—“Hamilcar, + somnolent Prince of the City of Books—thou guardian nocturnal! Like + that Divine Cat who combated the impious in Heliopolis—in the night + of the great combat—thou dost defend from vile nibblers those books + which the old savant acquired at the cost of his slender savings and + indefatigable zeal. Sleep, Hamilcar, softly as a sultana, in this library, + that shelters thy military virtues; for verily in thy person are united + the formidable aspect of a Tatar warrior and the slumbrous grace of a + woman of the Orient. Sleep, thou heroic and voluptuous Hamilcar, while + awaiting the moonlight hour in which the mice will come forth to dance + before the Acta Sanctorum of the learned Bolandists!” + </p> + <p> + The beginning of this discourse pleased Hamilcar, who accompanied it with + a throat-sound like the song of a kettle on the fire. But as my voice + waxed louder, Hamilcar notified me by lowering his ears and by wrinkling + the striped skin of his brow that it was bad taste on my part so to + declaim. + </p> + <p> + “This old-book man,” evidently thought Hamilcar, “talks to no purpose at + all while our housekeeper never utters a word which is not full of good + sense, full of significance—containing either the announcement of a + meal or the promise of a whipping. One knows what she says. But this old + man puts together a lot of sounds signifying nothing.” + </p> + <p> + So thought Hamilcar to himself. Leaving him to his reflections, I opened a + book, which I began to read with interest; for it was a catalogue of + manuscripts. I do not know any reading more easy, more fascinating, more + delightful than that of a catalogue. The one which I was reading—edited + in 1824 by Mr. Thompson, librarian to Sir Thomas Raleigh—sins, it is + true, by excess of brevity, and does not offer that character of + exactitude which the archivists of my own generation were the first to + introduce into works upon diplomatics and paleography. It leaves a good + deal to be desired and to be divined. This is perhaps why I find myself + aware, while reading it, of a state of mind which in nature more + imaginative than mine might be called reverie. I had allowed myself to + drift away this gently upon the current of my thoughts, when my + housekeeper announced, in a tone of ill-humor, that Monsieur Coccoz + desired to speak with me. + </p> + <p> + In fact, some one had slipped into the library after her. He was a little + man—a poor little man of puny appearance, wearing a thin jacket. He + approached me with a number of little bows and smiles. But he was very + pale, and, although still young and alert, he looked ill. I thought as I + looked at him, of a wounded squirrel. He carried under his arm a green + toilette, which he put upon a chair; then unfastening the four corners of + the toilette, he uncovered a heap of little yellow books. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he then said to me, “I have not the honour to be known to you. + I am a book-agent, Monsieur. I represent the leading houses of the + capital, and in the hope that you will kindly honour me with your + confidence, I take the liberty to offer you a few novelties.” + </p> + <p> + Kind gods! just gods! such novelties as the homunculus Coccoz showed me! + The first volume that he put in my hand was “L’Histoire de la Tour de + Nesle,” with the amours of Marguerite de Bourgogne and the Captain + Buridan. + </p> + <p> + “It is a historical book,” he said to me, with a smile—“a book of + real history.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” I replied, “it must be very tiresome; for all the + historical books which contain no lies are extremely tedious. I write some + authentic ones myself; and if you were unlucky enough to carry a copy of + any of them from door to door you would run the risk of keeping it all + your life in that green baize of yours, without ever finding even a cook + foolish enough to buy it from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly Monsieur,” the little man answered, out of pure good-nature. + </p> + <p> + And, all smiling again, he offered me the “Amours d’Heloise et + d’Abeilard”; but I made him understand that, at my age, I had no use for + love-stories. + </p> + <p> + Still smiling, he proposed me the “Regle des Jeux de la Societe”—piquet, + bezique, ecarte, whist, dice, draughts, and chess. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” I said to him, “if you want to make me remember the rules of + bezique, give me back my old friend Bignan, with whom I used to play cards + every evening before the Five Academies solemnly escorted him to the + cemetery; or else bring down to the frivolous level of human amusements + the grave intelligence of Hamilcar, whom you see on that cushion, for he + is the sole companion of my evenings.” + </p> + <p> + The little man’s smile became vague and uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he said, “is a new collection of society amusements—jokes + and puns—with a receipt for changing a red rose to a white rose.” + </p> + <p> + I told him that I had fallen out with the roses for a long time, and that, + as to jokes, I was satisfied with those which I unconsciously permitted + myself to make in the course of my scientific labours. + </p> + <p> + The homunculus offered me his last book, with his last smile. He said to + me: + </p> + <p> + “Here is the Clef des Songes—the ‘Key of Dreams’—with the + explanation of any dreams that anybody can have; dreams of gold, dreams of + robbers, dreams of death, dreams of falling from the top of a tower.... It + is exhaustive.” + </p> + <p> + I had taken hold of the tongs, and, brandishing them energetically, I + replied to my commercial visitor: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend; but those dreams and a thousand others, joyous or tragic, + are all summed up in one—the Dream of Life; is your little yellow + book able to give me the key to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur,” answered the homunculus; “the book is complete, and it is + not dear—one franc twenty-five centimes, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + I called my housekeeper—for there is no bell in my room—and + said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Therese, Monsieur Coccoz—whom I am going to ask you to show out—has + a book here which might interest you: the ‘Key of Dreams.’ I shall be very + glad to buy it for you.” + </p> + <p> + My housekeeper responded: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, when one has not even time to dream awake, one has still less + time to dream asleep. Thank God, my days are just enough for my work and + my work for my days, and I am able to say every night, ‘Lord, bless Thou + the rest which I am going to take.’ I never dream, either on my feet or in + bed; and I never mistake my eider-down coverlet for a devil, as my cousin + did; and, if you will allow me to give my opinion about it, I think you + have books enough here now. Monsieur has thousands and thousands of books, + which simply turn his head; and as for me, I have just tow, which are + quite enough for all my wants and purposes—my Catholic prayer-book + and my Cuisiniere Bourgeoise.” + </p> + <p> + And with those words my housekeeper helped the little man to fasten up his + stock again within the green toilette. + </p> + <p> + The homunculus Coccoz had ceased to smile. His relaxed features took such + an expression of suffering that I felt sorry to have made fun of so + unhappy a man. I called him back, and told him that I had caught a glimpse + of a copy of the “Histoire d’Estelle et de Nemorin,” which he had among + his books; that I was very fond of shepherds and shepherdesses, and that I + would be quite willing to purchase, at a reasonable price, the story of + these two perfect lovers. + </p> + <p> + “I will sell you that book for one franc twenty-five centimes, Monsieur,” + replied Coccoz, whose face at once beamed with joy. “It is historical; and + you will be pleased with it. I know now just what suits you. I see that + you are a connoisseur. To-morrow I will bring you the Crimes des Papes. It + is a good book. I will bring you the edition d’amateur, with coloured + plates.” + </p> + <p> + I begged him not to do anything of the sort, and sent him away happy. When + the green toilette and the agent had disappeared in the shadow of the + corridor I asked my housekeeper whence this little man had dropped upon + us. + </p> + <p> + “Dropped is the word,” she answered; “he dropped on us from the roof, + Monsieur, where he lives with his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You say he has a wife, Therese? That is marvelous! Women are very strange + creatures! This one must be a very unfortunate little woman.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t really know what she is,” answered Therese; “but every morning I + see her trailing a silk dress covered with grease-spots over the stairs. + She makes soft eyes at people. And, in the name of common sense! does it + become a woman that has been received here out of charity to make eyes and + to wear dresses like that? For they allowed the couple to occupy the attic + during the time the roof was being repaired, in consideration of the fact + that the husband is sick and the wife in an interesting condition. The + concierge even says that the pain came on her this morning, and that she + is now confined. They must have been very badly off for a child!” + </p> + <p> + “Therese,” I replied, “they had no need of a child, doubtless. But Nature + had decided that they should bring one into the world; Nature made them + fall into her snare. One must have exceptional prudence to defeat Nature’s + schemes. Let us be sorry for them and not blame them! As for silk dresses, + there is no young woman who does not like them. The daughters of Eve adore + adornment. You yourself, Therese—who are so serious and sensible—what + a fuss you make when you have no white apron to wait at table in! But, + tell me, have they got everything necessary in their attic?” + </p> + <p> + “How could they have it, Monsieur?” my housekeeper made answer. “The + husband, whom you have just seen, used to be a jewellery-peddler—at + least, so the concierge tells me—and nobody knows why he stopped + selling watches, you have just seen that his is now selling almanacs. That + is no way to make an honest living, and I never will believe that God’s + blessing can come to an almanac-peddler. Between ourselves, the wife looks + to me for all the world like a good-for-nothing—a Marie-couche + toi-la. I think she would be just as capable of bringing up a child as I + should be of playing the guitar. Nobody seems to know where they came + from; but I am sure they must have come by Misery’s coach from the country + of Sans-souci.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever they have come from, Therese, they are unfortunate; and their + attic is cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardi!—the roof is broken in several places and the rain comes + through in streams. They have neither furniture nor clothing. I don’t + think cabinet-makers and weavers work much for Christians of that sect!” + </p> + <p> + “That is very sad, Therese; a Christian woman much less well provided for + than this pagan, Hamilcar here!—what does she have to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I never speak to those people; I don’t know what she says or + what she sings. But she sings all day long; I hear her from the stairway + whenever I am going out or coming in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! the heir of the Coccoz family will be able to say, like the Egg in + the village riddle: Ma mere me fit en chantant. [“My mother sang when she + brought me into the world.”] The like happened in the case of Henry IV. + When Jeanne d’Albret felt herself about to be confined she began to sing + an old Bearnaise canticle: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Notre-Dame du bout du pont, + Venez a mon aide en cette heure! + Priez le Dieu du ciel + Qu’il me delivre vite, + Qu’il me donne un garcon! +</pre> + <p> + “It is certainly unreasonable to bring little unfortunates into the world. + But the thing is done every day, my dear Therese and all the philosophers + on earth will never be able to reform the silly custom. Madame Coccoz has + followed it, and she sings. This is creditable at all events! But, tell + me, Therese, have you not put the soup to boil to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur; and it is time for me to go and skim it.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! but don’t forget, Therese, to take a good bowl of soup out of the + pot and carry it to Madame Coccoz, our attic neighbor.” + </p> + <p> + My housekeeper was on the point of leaving the room when I added, just in + time: + </p> + <p> + “Therese, before you do anything else, please call your friend the porter, + and tell him to take a good bundle of wood out of our stock and carry it + up to the attic of those Coccoz folks. See, above all, that he puts a + first-class log in the lot—a real Christmas log. As for the + homunculus, if he comes back again, do not allow either himself or any of + his yellow books to come in here.” + </p> + <p> + Having taken all these little precautions with the refined egotism of an + old bachelor, I returned to my catalogue again. + </p> + <p> + With what surprise, with what emotion, with what anxiety did I therein + discover the following mention, which I cannot even now copy without + feeling my hand tremble: + </p> + <p> + “LA LEGENDE DOREE DE JACQUES DE GENES (Jacques de Voragine);—traduction + francaise, petit in-4. + </p> + <p> + “This MS. of the fourteenth century contains, besides the tolerably + complete translation of the celebrated work of Jacques de Voragine, 1. The + Legends of Saints Ferreol, Ferrution, Germain, Vincent, and Droctoveus; 2. + A poem ‘On the Miraculous Burial of Monsieur Saint-Germain of Auxerre.’ + This translation, as well as the legends and the poem, are due to the + Clerk Alexander. + </p> + <p> + “This MS. is written upon vellum. It contains a great number of + illuminated letters, and two finely executed miniatures, in a rather + imperfect state of preservation:—one represents the Purification of + the Virgin, and the other the Coronation of Proserpine.” + </p> + <p> + What a discovery! Perspiration moistened my forehead, and a veil seemed to + come before my eyes. I trembled; I flushed; and, without being able to + speak, I felt a sudden impulse to cry out at the top of my voice. + </p> + <p> + What a treasure! For more than forty years I had been making a special + study of the history of Christian Gaul, and particularly of that glorious + Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, whence issued forth those King-Monks who + founded our national dynasty. Now, despite the culpable insufficiency of + the description given, it was evident to me that the MS. of the Clerk + Alexander must have come from the great Abbey. Everything proved this + fact. All the legends added by the translator related to the pious + foundation of the Abbey by King Childebert. Then the legend of + Saint-Droctoveus was particularly significant; being the legend of the + first abbot of my dear Abbey. The poem in French verse on the burial of + Saint-Germain led me actually into the nave of that venerable basilica + which was the umbilicus of Christian Gaul. + </p> + <p> + The “Golden Legend” is in itself a vast and gracious work. Jacques de + Voragine, Definitor of the Order of Saint-Dominic, and Archbishop of + Genoa, collected in the thirteenth century the various legends of Catholic + saints, and formed so rich a compilation that from all the monasteries and + castles of the time there arouse the cry: “This is the ‘Golden Legend.’” + The “Legende Doree” was especially opulent in Roman hagiography. Edited by + an Italian monk, it reveals its best merits in the treatment of matters + relating to the terrestrial domains of Saint Peter. Voragine can only + perceive the greater saints of the Occident as through a cold mist. For + this reason the Aquitanian and Saxon translators of the good legend-writer + were careful to add to his recital the lives of their own national saints. + </p> + <p> + I have read and collated a great many manuscripts of the “Golden Legend.” + I know all those described by my learned colleague, M. Paulin Paris, in + his handsome catalogue of the MSS. of the Biblotheque du Roi. There were + two among them which especially drew my attention. One is of the + fourteenth century and contains a translation by Jean Belet; the other, + younger by a century, presents the version of Jacques Vignay. Both come + from the Colbert collection, and were placed on the shelves of that + glorious Colbertine library by the Librarian Baluze—whose name I can + never pronounce without uncovering my head; for even in the century of the + giants of erudition, Baluze astounds by his greatness. I know also a very + curious codex in the Bigot collection; I know seventy-four printed + editions of the work, commencing with the venerable ancestor of all—the + Gothic of Strasburg, begun in 1471, and finished in 1475. But no one of + those MSS., no one of those editions, contains the legends of Saints + Ferreol, Ferrution, Germain, Vincent, and Droctoveus; no one bears the + name of the Clerk Alexander; no one, in find, came from the Abbey of + Saint-Germain-des-Pres. Compared with the MS. described by Mr. Thompson, + they are only as straw to gold. I have seen with my eyes, I have touched + with my fingers, an incontrovertible testimony to the existence of this + document. But the document itself—what has become of it? Sir Thomas + Raleigh went to end his days by the shores of the Lake of Como, whither he + carried with him a part of his literary wealth. Where did the books go + after the death of that aristocratic collector? Where could the manuscript + of the Clerk Alexander have gone? + </p> + <p> + “And why,” I asked myself, “why should I have learned that this precious + book exists, if I am never to possess it—never even to see it? I + would go to seek it in the burning heart of Africa, or in the icy regions + of the Pole if I knew it were there. But I do not know where it is. I do + not know if it be guarded in a triple-locked iron case by some jealous + biblomaniac. I do not know if it be growing mouldy in the attic of some + ignoramus. I shudder at the thought that perhaps its tore-out leaves may + have been used to cover the pickle-jars of some housekeeper.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 30, 1850 + </h2> + <p> + The heavy heat compelled me to walk slowly. I kept close to the walls of + the north quays; and, in the lukewarm shade, the shops of the dealers in + old books, engravings, and antiquated furniture drew my eyes and appealed + to my fancy. Rummaging and idling among these, I hastily enjoyed some + verses spiritedly thrown off by a poet of the Pleiad. I examined an + elegant Masquerade by Watteau. I felt, with my eye, the weight of a + two-handed sword, a steel gorgerin, a morion. What a thick helmet! What a + ponderous breastplate—Seigneur! A giant’s garb? No—the + carapace of an insect. The men of those days were cuirassed like beetles; + their weakness was within them. To-day, on the contrary, our strength is + interior, and our armed souls dwell in feeble bodies. + </p> + <p> + ...Here is a pastel-portrait of a lady of the old time—the face, + vague like a shadow, smiles; and a hand, gloved with an openwork mitten, + retains upon her satiny knees a lap-dog, with a ribbon about its neck. + That picture fills me with a sort of charming melancholy. Let those who + have no half-effaced pastels in their own hearts laugh at me! Like the + horse that scents the stable, I hasten my pace as I near my lodgings. + There it is—that great human hive, in which I have a cell, for the + purpose of therein distilling the somewhat acrid honey of erudition. I + climb the stairs with slow effort. Only a few steps more, and I shall be + at my own door. But I divine, rather than see, a robe descending with a + sound of rustling silk. I stop, and press myself against the balustrade to + make room. The lady who is coming down is bareheaded; she is young; she + sings; her eyes and teeth gleam in the shadow, for she laughs with lips + and eyes at the same time. She is certainly a neighbor, and a very + familiar one. She holds in her arms a pretty child, a little boy—quite + naked, like the son of a goddess; he has a medal hung round his neck by a + little silver chain. I see him sucking his thumb and looking at me with + those big eyes so newly opened on this old universe. The mother + simultaneously looks at me in a sly, mysterious way; she stops—I + think blushes a little—and holds out the little creature to me. The + baby has a pretty wrinkle between wrist and arm, a pretty wrinkle about + his neck, and all over him, from head to foot, the daintiest dimples laugh + in his rosy flesh. + </p> + <p> + The mamma shows him to me with pride. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she says, “don’t you think he is very pretty—my little + boy?” + </p> + <p> + She takes one tiny hand, lifts it to the child’s own lips, and, drawing + out the darling pink fingers again towards me, says, + </p> + <p> + “Baby, throw the gentleman a kiss.” + </p> + <p> + Then, folding the little being in her arms, she flees away with the + agility of a cat, and is lost to sight in a corridor which, judging by the + odour, must lead to some kitchen. + </p> + <p> + I enter my own quarters. + </p> + <p> + “Therese, who can that young mother be whom I saw bareheaded on the stairs + just now, with a pretty little boy?” + </p> + <p> + And Therese replies that it was Madame Coccoz. + </p> + <p> + I stare up at the ceiling, as if trying to obtain some further + illumination. Therese then recalls to me the little book-peddler who tried + to sell me almanacs last year, while his wife was lying in. + </p> + <p> + “And Coccoz himself?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + I was answered that I would never see him again. The poor little man had + been laid away underground, without my knowledge, and, indeed, with the + knowledge of very few people, on a short time after the happy delivery of + Madame Coccoz. I leaned that his wife had been able to console herself: I + did likewise. + </p> + <p> + “But, Therese,” I asked, “has Madame Coccoz got everything she needs in + that attic of hers?” + </p> + <p> + “You would be a great dupe, Monsieur,” replied my housekeeper, “if you + should bother yourself about that creature. They gave her notice to quit + the attic when the roof was repaired. But she stays there yet—in + spite of the proprietor, the agent, the concierge, and the bailiffs. I + think she has bewitched every one of them. She will leave the attic when + she pleases, Monsieur; but she is going to leave in her own carriage. Let + me tell you that!” + </p> + <p> + Therese reflected for a moment; and then uttered these words: + </p> + <p> + “A pretty face is a curse from Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I ought to thank Heaven for having spared me that curse. But here! + put my hat and cane away. I am going to amuse myself with a few pages of + Moreri. If I can trust my old fox-nose, we are going to have a nicely + flavoured pullet for dinner. Look after that estimable fowl, my girl, and + spare your neighbors, so that you and your old master may be spared by + them in turn.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus spoken, I proceeded to follow out the tufted ramifications of + a princely genealogy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + May 7, 1851 + </h2> + <p> + I have passed the winter according to the ideal of the sages, in angello + cum libello; and now the swallows of the Quai Malaquais find me on their + return about as when they left me. He who lives little, changes little; + and it is scarcely living at all to use up one’s days over old texts. + </p> + <p> + Yet I feel myself to-day a little more deeply impregnated than ever before + with that vague melancholy which life distils. The economy of my + intelligence (I dare scarcely confess it to myself!) has remained + disturbed ever since that momentous hour in which the existence of the + manuscript of the Clerk Alexander was first revealed to me. + </p> + <p> + It is strange that I should have lost my rest simply on account of a few + old sheets of parchment; but it is unquestionably true. The poor man who + has no desires possesses the greatest of riches; he possesses himself. The + rich man who desires something is only a wretched slave. I am just such a + slave. The sweetest pleasures—those of converse with some one of a + delicate and well-balanced mind, or dining out with a friend—are + insufficient to enable me to forget the manuscript which I know that I + want, and have been wanting from the moment I knew of its existence. I + feel the want of it by day and by night: I feel the want of it in all my + joys and pains; I feel the want of it while at work or asleep. + </p> + <p> + I recall my desires as a child. How well I can now comprehend the intense + wishes of my early years! + </p> + <p> + I can see once more, with astonishing vividness, a certain doll which, + when I was eight years old, used to be displayed in the window of an ugly + little shop of the Rue de Seine. I cannot tell how it happened that this + doll attracted me. I was very proud of being a boy; I despised little + girls; and I longed impatiently for the day (which alas! has come) when a + strong beard should bristle on my chin. I played at being a soldier; and, + under the pretext of obtaining forage for my rocking-horse, I used to make + sad havoc among the plants my poor mother delighted to keep on her + window-sill. Manly amusements those, I should say! And, nevertheless, I + was consumed with longing for a doll. Characters like Hercules have such + weaknesses occasionally. Was the one I had fallen in love with at all + beautiful? No. I can see her now. She had a splotch of vermilion on either + cheek, short soft arms, horrible wooden hands, and long sprawling legs. + Her flowered petticoat was fastened at the waist with two pins. Even now I + cans see the black heads of those two pins. It was a decidedly vulgar doll—smelt + of the faubourg. I remember perfectly well that, child as I was then, + before I had put on my first pair of trousers, I was quite conscious in my + own way that this doll lacked grace and style—that she was gross, + that she was course. But I loved her in spite of that; I loved her just + for that; I loved her only; I wanted her. My soldiers and my drums had + become as nothing in my eyes, I ceased to stick sprigs of heliotrope and + veronica into the mouth of my rocking-horse. That doll was all the world + to me. I invented ruses worthy of a savage to oblige Virginie, my nurse, + to take me by the little shop in the Rue de Seine. I would press my nose + against the window until my nurse had to take my arm and drag me away. + “Monsieur Sylvestre, it is late, and your mamma will scold you.” Monsieur + Sylvestre in those days made very little of either scoldings or whippings. + But his nurse lifted him up like a feather, and Monsieur Sylvestre yielded + to force. In after-years, with age, he degenerated, and sometimes yielded + to fear. But at that time he used to fear nothing. + </p> + <p> + I was unhappy. An unreasoning but irresistible shame prevented me from + telling my mother about the object of my love. Thence all my sufferings. + For many days that doll, incessantly present in fancy, danced before my + eyes, stared at me fixedly, opened her arms to me, assuming in my + imagination a sort of life which made her appear at once mysterious and + weird, and thereby all the more charming and desirable. + </p> + <p> + Finally, one day—a day I shall never forget—my nurse took me + to see my uncle, Captain Victor, who had invited me to lunch. I admired my + uncle a great deal, as much because he had fired the last French cartridge + at Waterloo, as because he used to prepare with his own hands, at my + mother’s table, certain chapons-a-l’ail [Crust on which garlic has been + rubbed], which he afterwards put in the chicory salad. I thought that was + very fine! My Uncle Victor also inspired me with much respect by his + frogged coat, and still more by his way of turning the whole house upside + down from the moment he came into it. Even now I cannot tell just how he + managed it, but I can affirm that whenever my Uncle Victor found himself + in any assembly of twenty persons, it was impossible to see or to hear + anybody but him. My excellent father, I have reason to believe, never + shared my admiration for Uncle Victor, who used to sicken him with his + pipe, give him great thumps in the back by way of friendliness, and accuse + him of lacking energy. My mother, though always showing a sister’s + indulgence to the Captain, sometimes advised him to fold the brandy-bottle + a little less frequently. But I had no part either in these repugnances or + these reproaches, and Uncle Victor inspired me with the purest enthusiasm. + It was therefore with a feeling of pride that I entered into the little + lodging he occupied in the Rue Guenegaud. The entire lunch, served on a + small table close to the fireplace, consisted of cold meats and + confectionery. + </p> + <p> + The Captain stuffed me with cakes and undiluted wine. He told me of + numberless injustices to which he had been a victim. He complained + particularly of the Bourbons; and as he neglected to tell me who the + Bourbons were, I got the idea—I can’t tell how—that the + Bourbons were horse-dealers established at Waterloo. The Captain, who + never interrupted his talk except for the purpose of pouring out wine, + furthermore made charges against a number of dirty scoundrels, + blackguards, and good-for-nothings whom I did not know anything about, but + whom I hated from the bottom of my heart. At dessert I thought I heard the + Captain say my father was a man who could be led anywhere by the nose; but + I am not quite sure that I understood him. I had a buzzing in my ears; and + it seemed to me that the table was dancing. + </p> + <p> + My uncle put on his frogged coat, took his bell shaped hat, and we + descended to the street, which seemed to me singularly changed. It looked + to me as if I had not been in it before for ever so long a time. + Nevertheless, when we came to the Rue de Seine, the idea of my doll + suddenly returned to my mind and excited me in an extraordinary way. My + head was on fire. I resolved upon a desperate expedient. We were passing + before the window. She was there, behind the glass—with her red + checks, and her flowered petticoat, and her long legs. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle,” I said, with a great effort, “will you buy that doll for me?” + </p> + <p> + And I waited. + </p> + <p> + “Buy a doll for a boy—sacrebleu!” cried my uncle, in a voice of + thunder. “Do you wish to dishonour yourself? And it is that old Mag there + that you want! Well, I must compliment you, my young fellow! If you grow + up with such tastes as that, you will never have any pleasure in life; and + your comrades will call you a precious ninny. If you asked me for a sword + or a gun, my boy, I would buy them for you with the last silver crown of + my pension. But to buy a doll for you—by all that’s holy!—to + disgrace you! Never in the world! Why, if I were ever to see you playing + with a puppet rigged out like that, Monsieur, my sister’s son, I would + disown you for my nephew!” + </p> + <p> + On hearing these words, I felt my heart so wrung that nothing but pride—a + diabolical pride—kept me from crying. + </p> + <p> + My uncle, suddenly calming down, returned to his ideas about the Bourbons; + but I, still smarting under the weight of his indignation, felt an + unspeakable shame. My resolve was quickly made. I promised myself never to + disgrace myself—I firmly and for ever renounced that red-cheeked + doll. + </p> + <p> + I felt that day, for the first time, the austere sweetness of sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + Captain, though it be true that all your life you swore like a pagan, + smoked like a beadle, and drank like a bell-ringer, be your memory + nevertheless honoured—not merely because you were a brave soldier, + but also because you revealed to your little nephew in petticoats the + sentiment of heroism! Pride and laziness had made you almost + insupportable, Uncle Victor!—but a great heart used to beat under + those frogs upon your coat. You always used to wear, I now remember, a + rose in your button-hole. That rose which you offered so readily to the + shop-girls—that large, open-hearted flower, scattering its petals to + all the winds, was the symbol of your glorious youth. You despised neither + wine nor tobacco; but you despised life. Neither delicacy nor common sense + could have been learned from you, Captain; but you taught me, even at an + age when my nurse had to wipe my nose, a lesson of honour and + self-abrogation that I shall never forget. + </p> + <p> + You have now been sleeping for many years in the Cemetery of + Mont-Parnasse, under a plain slab bearing the epitaph: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CI-GIT + ARISTIDE VICTOR MALDENT, + Capitaine d’Infanterie, + Chevalier de la Legion d’Honneur. +</pre> + <p> + But such, Captain, was not the inscription devised by yourself to be + placed above those old bones of yours—knocked about so long on + fields of battle and in haunts of pleasure. Among your papers was found + this proud and bitter epitaph, which, despite your last will none could + have ventured to put upon your tomb: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CI-GIT + UN BRIGAND DE LA LOIRE +</pre> + <p> + “Therese, we will get a wreath of immortelles to-morrow, and lay them on + the tomb of the Brigand of the Loire.”... + </p> + <p> + But Therese is not here. And how, indeed, could she be near me, seeing + that I am at the rondpoint of the Champs-Elysees? There, at the + termination of the avenue, the Arc de Triomphe, which bears under its + vaults the names of Uncle Victor’s companions-in-arms, opens its giant + gate against the sky. The trees of the avenue are unfolding to the sun of + spring their first leaves, still all pale and chilly. Beside me the + carriages keep rolling by to the Bois de Boulogne. Unconsciously I have + wandered into this fashionable avenue on my promenade, and halted, quite + stupidly, in front of a booth stocked with gingerbread and decanters of + liquorice-water, each topped by a lemon. A miserable little boy, covered + with rags, which expose his chapped skin, stares with widely opened eyes + at those sumptuous sweets which are not for such as he. With the + shamelessness of innocence he betrays his longing. His round, fixed eyes + contemplate a certain gingerbread man of lofty stature. It is a general, + and it looks a little like Uncle Victor. I take it, I pay for it, and + present it to the little pauper, who dares not extend his hand to receive + it—for, by reason of precocious experience, he cannot believe in + luck; he looks at me, in the same way that certain big dogs do, with the + air of one saying, “You are cruel to make fun of me like that!” + </p> + <p> + “Come, little stupid,” I say to him, in that rough tone I am accustomed to + use, “take it—take it, and eat it; for you, happier than I was at + your age, you can satisfy your tastes without disgracing yourself.”...And + you, Uncle Victor—you, whose manly figure has been recalled to me by + that gingerbread general, come, glorious Shadow, help me to forget my new + doll. We remain for ever children, and are always running after new toys. + </p> + <p> + Same day. + </p> + <p> + In the oddest way that Coccoz family has become associated in my mind with + the Clerk Alexander. + </p> + <p> + “Therese,” I said, as I threw myself into my easy-chair, “tell me if the + little Coccoz is well, and whether he has got his first teeth yet—and + bring me my slippers.” + </p> + <p> + “He ought to have them by this time, Monsieur,” replied Therese; “but I + never saw them. The very first fine day of spring the mother disappeared + with the child, leaving furniture and clothes and everything behind her. + They found thirty-eight empty pomade-pots in the attic. It passes all + belief! She had visitors latterly; and you may be quite sure she is not + now in a convent of nuns. The niece of the concierge says she saw her + driving about in a carriage on the boulevards. I always told you she would + end badly.” + </p> + <p> + “Therese,” I replied, “that young woman has not ended either badly or well + as yet. Wait until the term of her life is over before you judge her. And + be careful not to talk too much with that concierge. It seemed to me—though + I only saw her for a moment on the stairs—that Madame Coccoz was + very fond of her child. For that mother’s love at least, she deserves + credit.” + </p> + <p> + “As far as that goes, Monsieur, certainly the little one never wanted for + anything. In all the Quarter one could not have found a child better kept, + or better nourished, or more petted and coddled. Every day that God makes + she puts a clean bib on him, and sings to him to make him laugh from + morning till night.” + </p> + <p> + “Therese, a poet has said, ‘That child whose mother has never smiled upon + him is worthy neither of the table of the gods nor of the couch of the + goddesses.’” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 8, 1852. + </h2> + <p> + Having been informed that the Chapel of the Virgin at + Saint-Germain-des-Pres was being repaved, I entered the church with the + hope of discovering some old inscriptions, possibly exposed by the labours + of the workmen. I was not disappointed. The architect kindly showed me a + stone which he had just had raised up against the wall. I knelt down to + look at the inscription engraved upon that stone; and then, half aloud, I + read in the shadow of the old apsis these words, which made my heart leap: + </p> + <p> + “Cy-gist Alexandre, moyne de ceste eglise, qui fist mettre en argent le + menton de Saint-Vincent et de Saint-Amant et le pie des Innocens; qui + toujours en son vivant fut preud’homme et vayllant. Priez pour l’ame de + lui.” + </p> + <p> + I wiped gently away with my handkerchief the dust covering that + gravestone; I could have kissed it. + </p> + <p> + “It is he! it is Alexander!” I cried out; and from the height of the + vaults the name fell back upon me with a clang, as if broken. + </p> + <p> + The silent severity of the beadle, whom I saw advancing towards me, made + me ashamed of my enthusiasm; and I fled between the two holy water + sprinklers with which tow rival “rats d’eglise” seemed desirous of barring + my way. + </p> + <p> + At all events it was certainly my own Alexander! there could be no more + doubt possible; the translator of the “Golden Legend,” the author of the + saints lives of Saints Germain, Vincent, Ferreol, Ferrution, and + Droctoveus was, just as I had supposed, a monk of Saint-Germain-des-Pres. + And what a monk, too—pious and generous! He had a silver chin, a + silver head, and a silver foot made, that certain precious remains should + be covered with an incorruptible envelope! But shall I never be able to + view his handiwork? or is this new discovery only destined to increase my + regrets? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 20, 1859. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I, that please some, try all; both joy and terror + Of good and bad; that make and unfold error— + Now take upon me, in the name of Time + To use my wings. Impute it not a crime + To me or my swift passage, that I slide + O’er years.” + + Who speaks thus? ‘Tis an old man whom I know too well. It is Time. +</pre> + <p> + Shakespeare, after having terminated the third act of the “Winter’s Tale,” + pauses in order to leave time for little Perdita to grow up in wisdom and + in beauty; and when he raises the curtain again he evokes the ancient + Scythe-bearer upon the stage to render account to the audience of those + many long days which have weighted down upon the head of the jealous + Leontes. + </p> + <p> + Like Shakespeare in his play, I have left in this diary of mine a long + interval to oblivion; and after the fashion of the poet, I make Time + himself intervene to explain the omission of ten whole years. Ten whole + years, indeed, have passed since I wrote one single line in this diary; + and now that I take up the pen again, I have not the pleasure, alas! to + describe a Perdita “now grown in grace.” Youth and beauty are the faithful + companions of poets; but those charming phantoms scarcely visit the rest + of us, even for the space of a season. We do not know how to retain them + with us. If the fair shade of some Perdita should ever, through some + inconceivable whim, take a notion to traverse my brain, she would hurt + herself horribly against heaps of dog-eared parchments. Happy the poets!—their + white hairs never scare away the hovering shades of Helens, Francescas, + Juliets, Julias, and Dorotheas! But the nose alone of Sylvestre Bonnard + would put to flight the whole swarm of love’s heroines. + </p> + <p> + Yet I, like others, have felt beauty; I have known that mysterious charm + which Nature has lent to animate form; and the clay which lives has given + to me that shudder of delight which makes the lover and the poet. But I + have never known either how to love or how to sing. Now in my memory—all + encumbered as it is with the rubbish of old texts—I can discern + again, like a miniature forgotten in some attic, a certain bright young + face, with violet eyes.... Why, Bonnard, my friend, what an old fool you + are becoming! Read that catalogue which a Florentine bookseller sent you + this very morning. It is a catalogue of Manuscripts; and he promises you a + description of several famous ones, long preserved by the collectors of + Italy and Sicily. There is something better suited to you, something more + in keeping with your present appearance. + </p> + <p> + I read; I cry out! Hamilcar, who has assumed with the approach of age an + air of gravity that intimidates me, looks at me reproachfully, and seems + to ask me whether there is any rest in this world, since he cannot enjoy + it beside me, who am old also like himself. + </p> + <p> + In the sudden joy of my discovery, I need a confidant; and it is to the + sceptic Hamilcar that I address myself with all the effusion of a happy + man. + </p> + <p> + “No, Hamilcar! no,” I said to him; “there is no rest in this world, and + the quietude which you long for is incompatible with the duties of life. + And you say that we are old, indeed! Listen to what I read in this + catalogue, and then tell me whether this is a time to be reposing: + </p> + <p> + “‘LA LEGENDE DOREE DE JACQUES DE VORAGINE;—traduction francaise du + quatorzieme sicle, par le Clerc Alexandre. + </p> + <p> + “‘Superb MS., ornamented with two miniatures, wonderfully executed, and in + a perfect state of preservation:—one representing the Purification + of the Virgin; the other the Coronation of Proserpine. + </p> + <p> + “‘At the termination of the “Legende Doree” are the Legends of Saints + Ferreol, Ferrution, Germain, and Droctoveus (xxxviii pp.) and the + Miraculous Sepulture of Monsieur Saint-Germain d’Auxerre (xii pp.). + </p> + <p> + “‘This rare manuscript, which formed part of the collection of Sir Thomas + Raleigh, is now in the private study of Signor Michel-Angelo Polizzi, of + Girgenti.’” + </p> + <p> + “You hear that, Hamilcar? The manuscript of the Clerk Alexander is in + Sicily, at the house of Michel-Angelo Polizzi. Heaven grant he may be a + friend of learned men! I am going to write him!” + </p> + <p> + Which I did forthwith. In my letter I requested Signor Polizzi to allow me + to examine the manuscript of Clerk Alexander, stating on what grounds I + ventured to consider myself worthy of so great a favour. I offered at the + same time to put at his disposal several unpublished texts in my own + possession, not devoid of interest. I begged him to favour me with a + prompt reply, and below my signature I wrote down all my honorary titles. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur! Monsieur! where are you running like that?” cried Therese, + quite alarmed, coming down the stairs in pursuit of me, four steps at a + time, with my hat in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to post a letter, Therese.” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! is that a way to run out in the street, bareheaded, like a + crazy man?” + </p> + <p> + “I am crazy, I know, Therese. But who is not? Give me my hat, quick!” + </p> + <p> + “And your gloves, Monsieur! and your umbrella!” + </p> + <p> + I had reached the bottom of the stairs, but still heard her protesting and + lamenting. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + October 10, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + I awaited Signor Polizzi’s reply with ill-contained impatience. I could + not even remain quiet; I would make sudden nervous gestures—open + books and violently close them again. One day I happened to upset a book + with my elbow—a volume of Moreri. Hamilcar, who was washing himself, + suddenly stopped, and looked angrily at me, with his paw over his ear. Was + this the tumultuous existence he must expect under my roof? Had there not + been a tacit understanding between us that we should live a peaceful life? + I had broken the covenant. + </p> + <p> + “My poor dear comrade,” I made answer, “I am the victim of a violent + passion, which agitates and masters me. The passions are enemies of peace + and quiet, I acknowledge; but without them there would be no arts or + industries in the world. Everybody would sleep naked on a dung-heap; and + you would not be able, Hamilcar, to repose all day on a silken cushion, in + the City of Books.” + </p> + <p> + I expatiated no further to Hamilcar on the theory of the passions, + however, because my housekeeper brought me a letter. It bore the postmark + of Naples and read as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Most Illustrious Sir,—I do indeed possess that incomparable + manuscript of the ‘Golden Legend’ which could not escape your keen + observation. All-important reasons, however, forbid me, imperiously, + tyrannically, to let the manuscript go out of my possession for a single + day, for even a single minute. It will be a joy and pride for me to have + you examine it in my humble home in Girgenti, which will be embellished + and illuminated by your presence. It is with the most anxious expectation + of your visit that I presume to sign myself, Seigneur Academician, + </p> + <p> + “Your humble and devoted servant + </p> + <p> + “Michel-Angelo Polizzi, + </p> + <p> + “Wine-merchant and Archaeologist at Girgenti, Sicily.” + </p> + <p> + Well, then! I will go to Sicily: + </p> + <p> + “Extremum hunc, Arethusa, mihi concede laborem.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + October 25, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + My resolve had been taken and my preparations made; it only remained for + me to notify my housekeeper. I must acknowledge it was a long time before + I could make up my mind to tell her I was going away. I feared her + remonstrances, her railleries, her objurgations, her tears. “She is a + good, kind girl,” I said to myself; “she is attacked to me; she will want + to prevent me from going; and the Lord knows that when she has her mind + set upon anything, gestures and cries cost her no effort. In this instance + she will be sure to call the concierge, the scrubber, the mattress-maker, + and the seven sons of the fruit-seller; they will all kneel down in a + circle around me; they will begin to cry, and then they will look so ugly + that I shall be obliged to yield, so as not to have the pain of seeing + them any more.” + </p> + <p> + Such were the awful images, the sick dreams, which fear marshaled before + my imagination. Yes, fear—“fecund Fear,” as the poet says—gave + birth to these monstrosities in my brain. For—I may as well make the + confession in these private pages—I am afraid of my housekeeper. I + am aware that she knows I am weak; and this fact alone is sufficient to + dispel all my courage in any contest with her. Contests are of frequent + occurrence; and I invariably succumb. + </p> + <p> + But for all that, I had to announce my departure to Therese. She came into + the library with an armful of wood to make a little fire—“une + flambe,” she said. For the mornings are chilly. I watched her out of the + corner of my eye while she crouched down at the hearth, with her head in + the opening of the fireplace. I do not know how I then found the courage + to speak, but I did so without much hesitation. I got up, and, walking up + and down the room, observed in a careless tone, with that swaggering + manner characteristic of cowards, + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Therese, I am going to Sicily.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus spoken, I awaited the consequence with great anxiety. Therese + did not reply. Her head and her vast cap remained buried in the fireplace; + and nothing in her person, which I closely watched, betrayed the least + emotion. She poked some paper under the wood, and blew up the fire. That + was all! + </p> + <p> + Finally I saw her face again;—it was calm—so calm that it made + me vexed. “Surely,” I thought to myself, “this old maid has no heart. She + lets me go away without saying so much as AH! Can the absence of her old + master really affect her so little?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then go, Monsieur,” she answered at last, “only be back here by six + o’clock! There is a dish for dinner to-day which will not wait for + anybody.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Naples, November 10, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + “Co tra calle vive, magna, e lave a faccia.” + </p> + <p> + I understand, my friend—for three centimes I can eat, drink, and + wash my face, all by means of one of those slices of watermelon you + display there on a little table. But Occidental prejudices would prevent + me from enjoying that simple pleasure freely and frankly. And how could I + suck a watermelon? I have enough to do merely to keep on my feet in this + crowd. What a luminous, noisy night in the Strada di Porto! Mountains of + fruit tower up in the shops, illuminated by multicoloured lanterns. Upon + charcoal furnaces lighted in the open air water boils and steams, and + ragouts are singing in frying-pans. The smell of fried fish and hot meats + tickles my nose and makes me sneeze. At this moment I find that my + handkerchief has left the pocket of my frock-coat. I am pushed, lifted up, + and turned about in every direction by the gayest, the most talkative, the + most animated and the most adroit populace possible to imagine; and + suddenly a young woman of the people, while I am admiring her magnificent + hair, with a single shock of her powerful elastic shoulder, pushes me + staggering three paces back at least, without injury, into the arms of a + maccaroni-eater, who receives me with a smile. + </p> + <p> + I am in Naples. How I ever managed to arrive here, with a few mutilated + and shapeless remains of baggage, I cannot tell, because I am no longer + myself. I have been travelling in a condition of perpetual fright; and I + think that I must have looked awhile ago in this bright city like an owl + bewildered by sunshine. To-night it is much worse! Wishing to obtain a + glimpse of popular manners, I went to the Strada di Porto, where I now am. + All about me animated throngs of people crowd and press before the + eating-places; and I float like a waif among these living surges, which, + even while they submerge you, still caress. For this Neopolitan people + has, in its very vivacity, something indescribably gentle and polite. I am + not roughly jostled, I am merely swayed about; and I think that by dint of + thus rocking me to and fro, these good folks want to lull me asleep on my + feet. I admire, as I tread the lava pavements of the strada, those porters + and fishermen who move by me chatting, singing, smoking, gesticulating, + quarrelling, and embracing each other the next moment with astonishing + versatility of mood. They live through all their sense at the same time; + and, being philosophers without knowing it, keep the measure of their + desires in accordance with the brevity of life. I approach a + much-patronised tavern, and see inscribed above the entrance this quatrain + in Neopolitan patois: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Amice, alliegre magnammo e bevimmo + N fin che n’ce stace noglio a la lucerna: + Chi sa s’a l’autro munno n’ce verdimmo? + Chi sa s’a l’autro munno n’ce taverna?” + [“Friends, let us merrily eat and drink + as long as oil remains in the lamp: + Who knows if we shall meet again in another world? + Who knows if in the other world there will be a tavern?”] +</pre> + <p> + Even such counsels was Horace wont to give to his friends. You received + them, Posthumus; you heard them also, Leuconoe, perverse beauty who wished + to know the secrets of the future. That future is now the past, and we + know it well. Of a truth you were foolish to worry yourselves about so + small a matter; and your friend showed his good sense when he told you to + take life wisely and to filter your Greek wines—“Sapias, vina + liques.” Even thus the sight of a fair land under a spotless sky urges to + the pursuit of quiet pleasures, but there are souls for ever harassed by + some sublime discontent; those are the noblest. You were of such, + Leuconoe; and I, visiting for the first time, in my declining years, that + city where your beauty was famed of old, I salute with deep respect your + melancholy memory. Those souls of kin to your own who appeared in the age + of Christianity were souls of saints; and the “Golden Legend” is full of + the miracles they wrought. Your friend Horace left a less noble posterity, + and I see one of his descendants in the person of that tavern poet, who at + this moment is serving out wine in cups under the epicurean motto of his + sign. + </p> + <p> + And yet life decides in favour of friend Flaccus, and his philosophy is + the only one which adapts itself to the course of events. There is a + fellow leaning against that trellis-work covered with vine-leaves, and + eating an ice, while watching the stars. He would not stoop even to pick + up the old manuscript I am going to seek with so much trouble and fatigue. + And in truth man is made rather to eat ices than to pore over old texts. + </p> + <p> + I continued to wander about among the drinkers and the singers. There were + lovers biting into beautiful fruit, each with an arm about the other’s + waist. Man must be naturally bad; for all this strange joy only evoked in + me a feeling of uttermost despondency. That thronging populace displayed + such artless delight in the simple act of living, that all the shynesses + begotten by my old habits as an author awoke and intensified into + something like fright. Furthermore, I found myself much discouraged by my + inability to understand a word of all the storm of chatter about me. It + was a humiliating experience for a philologist. Thus I had begun to feel + quite sulky, when I was startled to hear someone behind me observe: + </p> + <p> + “Dimitri, that old man is certainly a Frenchman. He looks so bewildered + that I really fell sorry for him. Shall I speak to him? ...He has such a + goo-natured look, with that round back of his—do you not think so, + Dimitri?” + </p> + <p> + It was said in French by a woman’s voice. For the moment it was + disagreeable to hear myself spoken of as an old man. Is a man old at + sixty-two? Only the other day, on the Pont des Arts, my colleague Perrot + d’Avrignac complimented me on my youthful appearance; and I should think + him a better authority about one’s age than that young chatterbox who has + taken it on herself to make remarks about my back. My back is round, she + says. Ah! ah! I had some suspicion myself to that effect, but I am not + going now to believe it at all, since it is the opinion of a giddy-headed + young woman. Certainly I will not turn my head round to see who it was + that spoke; but I am sure it was a pretty woman. Why? Because she talks + like a capricious person and like a spoiled child. Ugly women may be + naturally quite as capricious as pretty ones; but as they are never petted + and spoiled, and as no allowances are made for them, they soon find + themselves obliged either to suppress their whims or to hide them. On the + other hand, the pretty women can be just as fantastical as they please. My + neighbour is evidently one of the latter.... But, after all, coming to + think it over, she really did nothing worse than to express, in her own + way, a kindly thought about me, for which I ought to feel grateful. + </p> + <p> + These reflections—include the last and decisive one—passed + through my mind in less than a second; and if I have taken a whole minute + to tell them, it is characteristic of most philologists. In less than a + second, therefore, after the voice had ceased, I did turn round, and saw a + pretty little woman—a sprightly brunette. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I said, with a bow, “excuse my involuntary indiscretion. I could + not help overhearing what you have just said. You would like to be of + service to a poor old man. And the wish, Madame, has already been + fulfilled—the mere sound of a French voice has given me such + pleasure that I must thank you.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed again, and turned to go away; but my foot slipped upon a + melon-rind, and I should certainly have embraced the Parthenopean soil had + not the young lady put out her hand and caught me. + </p> + <p> + There is a force in circumstances—even in the very smallest + circumstances—against which resistance is vain. I resigned myself to + remain the protege of the fair unknown. + </p> + <p> + “It is late,” she said; “do you not wish to go back to your hotel, which + must be quite close to ours—unless it be the same one?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I replied, “I do not know what time it is, because somebody has + stolen my watch; but I think, as you say, that it must be time to retire; + and I shall be very glad to regain my hotel in the company of such + courteous compatriots.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, I bowed once more to the young lady, and also saluted her + companion, a silent colossus with a gentle and melancholy face. + </p> + <p> + After having gone a little way with them, I learned, among other matters, + that my new acquaintances were the Prince and Princess Trepof, and that + they were making a trip round the world for the purpose of finding + match-boxes, of which they were making a collection. + </p> + <p> + We proceeded along a narrow, tortuous vicoletto, lighted only by a single + lamp burning in the niche of a Madonna. The purity and transparency of the + air gave a celestial softness and clearness to the very darkness itself; + and one could find one’s way without difficulty under such a limpid night. + But in a little while we began to pass through a “venella,” or, in + Neopolitan parlance, a sottoportico, which led under so many archways and + so many far-projecting balconies that no gleam of light from the sky could + reach us. My young guide had made us take this route as a short cut, she + assured us; but I think she did so quite as much simply in order to show + that she felt at home in Naples, and knew the city thoroughly. Indeed, she + needed to know it very thoroughly to venture by night into that labyrinth + of subterranean alleys and flights of steps. If ever any many showed + absolute docility in allowing himself to be guided, that man was myself. + Dante never followed the steps of Beatrice with more confidence than I + felt in following those of Princess Trepof. + </p> + <p> + The lady appeared to find some pleasure in my conversation, for she + invited me to take a carriage-drive with her on the morrow to visit the + grotto of Posilippo and the tomb of Virgil. She declared she had seen me + somewhere before; but she could not remember if it had been a Stockholm or + at Canton. In the former event I was a very celebrated professor of + geology; in the latter, a provision-merchant whose courtesy and kindness + had been much appreciated. One thing certain was that she had seen my back + somewhere before. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” she added; “we are continually travelling, my husband and I, + to collect match-boxes and to change our ennui by changing country. + Perhaps it would be more reasonable to content ourselves with a single + variety of ennui. But we have made all our preparations and arrangements + for travelling: all our plans have been laid out in advance, and it gives + us no trouble, whereas it would be very troublesome for us to stop + anywhere in particular. I tell you all this so that you many not be + surprised if my recollections have become a little mixed up. But from the + moment I first saw you at a distance this evening, I felt—in fact I + knew—that I had seen you before. Now the question is, ‘Where was it + that I saw you?’ You are not then, either the geologist or the + provision-merchant?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Madame,” I replied, “I am neither the one nor the other; and I am + sorry for it—since you have had reason to esteem them. There is + really nothing about me worthy of your interest. I have spent all my life + poring over books, and I have never traveled: you might have known that + from my bewilderment, which excited your compassion. I am a member of the + Institute.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a member of the Institute! How nice! Will you not write something + for me in my album? Do you know Chinese? I would like so much to have you + write something in Chinese or Persian in my album. I will introduce you to + my friend, Miss Fergusson, who travels everywhere to see all the famous + people in the world. She will be delighted.... Dimitri, did you hear that?—this + gentleman is a member of the Institute, and he has passed all his life + over books.” + </p> + <p> + The prince nodded approval. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” I said, trying to engage him in our conversation, “it is true + that something can be learned from books; but a great deal more can be + learned by travelling, and I regret that I have not been able to go round + the world like you. I have lived in the same house for thirty years and I + scarcely every go out.” + </p> + <p> + “Lived in the same house for thirty years!” cried Madame Trepof; “is it + possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame,” I answered. “But you must know the house is situated on the + bank of the Seine, and in the very handsomest and most famous part of the + world. From my window I can see the Tuileries and the Louvre, the + Pont-Neuf, the towers of Notre-Dame, the turrets of the Palais de Justice, + and the spire of the Sainte-Chapelle. All those stones speak to me; they + tell me stories about the days of Saint-Louis, of the Valois, of Henri + IV., and of Louis XIV. I understand them, and I love them all. It is only + a very small corner of the world, but honestly, Madame, where is there a + more glorious spot?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment we found ourselves upon a public square—a largo + steeped in the soft glow of the night. Madame Trepof looked at me in an + uneasy manner; her lifted eyebrows almost touched the black curls about + her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you live then?” she demanded brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “On the Quai Malaquais, Madame, and my name is Bonnard. It is not a name + very widely known, but I am contented if my friends do not forget it.” + </p> + <p> + This revelation, unimportant as it was, produced an extraordinary effect + upon Madame Trepof. She immediately turned her back upon me and caught her + husband’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Dimitri!” she exclaimed, “do walk a little faster. I am horribly + tired, and you will not hurry yourself in the least. We shall never get + home.... As for you, monsieur, your way lies over there!” + </p> + <p> + She made a vague gesture in the direction of some dark vicolo, pushed her + husband the opposite way, and called to me, without even turning her head. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, Monsieur! We shall not go to Posilippo to-morrow, nor the day + after, either. I have a frightful headache!... Dimitri, you are + unendurable! will you not walk faster?” + </p> + <p> + I remained for the moment stupefied, vainly trying to think what I could + have done to offend Madame Trepof. I had also lost my way, and seemed + doomed to wander about all night. In order to ask my way, I would have to + see somebody; and it did not seem likely that I should find a single human + being who could understand me. In my despair I entered a street at random—a + street, or rather a horrible alley that had the look of a murderous place. + It proved so in fact, for I had not been two minutes in it before I saw + two men fighting with knives. They were attacking each other more fiercely + with their tongues than with their weapons; and I concluded from the + nature of the abuse they were showering upon each other that it was a love + affair. I prudently made my way into a side alley while those two good + fellows were still much too busy with their own affairs to think about + mine. I wandered hopelessly about for a while, and at last sat down, + completely discouraged, on a stone bench, inwardly cursing the strange + caprices of Madame Trepof. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Signor? Are you back from San Carlo? Did you hear the diva + sing? It is only at Naples you can hear singing like hers.” + </p> + <p> + I looked up, and recognised my host. I had seated myself with my back to + the facade of my hotel, under the window of my own room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Monte-Allegro, November 30, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + We were all resting—myself, my guides, and their mules—on a + road from Sciacca to Girgenti, at a tavern in the miserable village of + Monte-Allegro, whose inhabitants, consumed by the mal aria, continually + shiver in the sun. But nevertheless they are Greeks, and their gaiety + triumphs over all circumstances. A few gather about the tavern, full of + smiling curiosity. One good story would have sufficed, had I known how to + tell it to them, to make them forget all the woes of life. They had all a + look of intelligence! and their women, although tanned and faded, wore + their long black cloaks with much grace. + </p> + <p> + Before me I could see old ruins whitened by the sea-wind—ruins about + which no grass ever grows. The dismal melancholy of deserts prevails over + this arid land, whose cracked surface can barely nourish a few shriveled + mimosas, cacti, and dwarf palms. Twenty yards away, along the course of a + ravine, stones were gleaming whitely like a long line of scattered bones. + They told me that was the bed of a stream. + </p> + <p> + I had been fifteen days in Sicily. On coming into the Bay of Palermo—which + opens between the two mighty naked masses of the Pelligrino and the + Catalfano, and extends inward along the “Golden Conch”—the view + inspired me with such admiration that I resolved to travel a little in + this island, so ennobled by historic memories, and rendered so beautiful + by the outlines of its hills, which reveal the principles of Greek art. + Old pilgrim though I was, grown hoary in the Gothic Occident—I dared + to venture upon that classic soil; and, securing a guide, I went from + Palermo to Trapani, from Trapani to Selinonte, from Selinonte to Sciacca—which + I left this morning to go to Girgenti, where I am to find the MS. of Clerk + Alexander. The beautiful things I have seen are still so vivid in my mind + that I feel the task of writing them would be a useless fatigue. Why spoil + my pleasure-trip by collecting notes? Lovers who love truly do not write + down their happiness. + </p> + <p> + Wholly absorbed by the melancholy of the present and the poetry of the + past, my thoughts people with beautiful shapes, and my eyes ever gratified + by the pure and harmonious lines of the landscape, I was resting in the + tavern at Monte-Allegro, sipping a glass of heavy, fiery wine, when I saw + two persons enter the waiting-room, whom, after a moment’s hesitation, I + recognised as the Prince and Princess Trepof. + </p> + <p> + This time I saw the princess in the light—and what a light! He who + has known that of Sicily can better comprehend the words of Sophocles: “Oh + holy light!... Eye of the Golden Day!” Madame Trepof, dressed in a + brown-holland and wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, appeared to me a very + pretty woman of about twenty-eight. Her eyes were luminous as a child’s; + but her slightly plump chin indicated the age of plenitude. She is, I must + confess it, quite an attractive person. She is supple and changeful; her + mood is like water itself—and, thank Heaven! I am no navigator. I + thought I discerned in her manner a sort of ill-humour, which I attributed + presently, by reason of some observations she uttered at random, to the + fact that she had met no brigands upon her route. + </p> + <p> + “Such things only happen to us!” she exclaimed, with a gesture of + discouragement. + </p> + <p> + She called for a glass of iced water, which the landlord presented to her + with a gesture that recalled to me those scenes of funeral offerings + painted upon Greek vases. + </p> + <p> + I was in no hurry to introduce myself to a lady who had so abruptly + dropped my acquaintance in the public square at Naples; but she perceived + me in my corner, and her frown notified me very plainly that our + accidental meeting was disagreeable to her. + </p> + <p> + After she had sipper her ice-water for a few moments—whether because + her whim had suddenly changed, or because my loneliness aroused her pity, + I did not know—she walked directly to me. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, Monsieur Bonnard,” she said. “How do you do? What strange + chance enables us to meet again in this frightful country?” + </p> + <p> + “This country is not frightful, Madame,” I replied. “Beauty is so great + and so august a quality that centuries of barbarism cannot efface it so + completely that adorable vestiges of it will not always remain. The + majesty of the antique Ceres still overshadows these arid valleys; and + that Greek Muse who made Arethusa and Maenalus ring with her divine + accents, still sings for my ears upon the barren mountain and in the place + of the dried-up spring. Yes, Madame, when our globe, no longer inhabited, + shall, like the moon, roll a wan corpse through space, the soil which + bears the ruins of Selinonte will still keep the seal of beauty in the + midst of universal death; and then, then, at least there will be no + frivolous mouth to blaspheme the grandeur of these solitudes.” + </p> + <p> + I knew well enough that my words were beyond the comprehension of the + pretty little empty-head which heard them. But an old fellow like myself + who has worn out his life over books does not know how to adapt his tone + to circumstances. Besides I wished to give Madame Trepof a lesson in + politeness. She received it with so much submission, and with such an air + of comprehension, that I hastened to add, as good-naturedly as possible, + </p> + <p> + “As to whether the chance which has enabled me to meet you again be lucky + or unlucky, I cannot decide the question until I am sure that my presence + be not disagreeable to you. You appeared to become weary of my company + very suddenly at Naples the other day. I can only attribute that + misfortune to my naturally unpleasant manner—since, on that + occasion, I had had the honour of meeting you for the first time in my + life.” + </p> + <p> + These words seem to cause her inexplicable joy. She smiled upon me in the + most gracious, mischievous way, and said very earnestly, holding out her + hand, which I touched with my lips, + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Bonnard, do not refuse to accept a seat in my carriage. You can + chat with me on the way about antiquity, and that will amuse me ever so + much.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” exclaimed the prince, “you can do just as you please; but you + ought to remember that one is horribly cramped in that carriage of yours; + and I fear that you are only offering Monsieur Bonnard the chance of + getting a frightful attack of lumbago.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Trepof simply shook her head by way of explaining that such + considerations had no weight with her whatever; then she untied her hat. + The darkness of her black curls descended over her eyes, and bathed them + in velvety shadow. She remained a little while quite motionless, and her + face assumed a surprising expression of reverie. But all of a sudden she + darted at some oranges which the tavern-keeper had brought in a basket, + and began to throw them, one by one, into a fold of her dress. + </p> + <p> + “These will be nice on the road,” she said. “We are going just where you + are going—to Girgenti. I must tell you all about it; you know that + my husband is making a collection of match-boxes. We bought thirteen + hundred match-boxes at Marseilles. But we heard there was a factory of + them at Girgenti. According to what we were told, it is a very small + factory, and its products—which are very ugly—never go outside + the city and its suburbs. So we are going to Girgenti just to buy + match-boxes. Dimitri has been a collector of all sorts of things; but the + only kind of collection which can now interest him is a collection of + match-boxes. He has already got five thousand two hundred and fourteen + different kinds. Some of them gave us frightful trouble to find. For + instance, we knew that at Naples boxes were once made with the portraits + of Mazzini and Garibaldi on them; and that the police had seized the + plates from which the portraits were printed, and put the manufacturer in + gaol. Well, by dint of searching and inquiring for ever so long a while, + we found one of those boxes at last for sale at one hundred francs, + instead of two sous. It was not really too dear at that price; but we were + denounced for buying it. We were taken for conspirators. All our baggage + was searched; they could not find the box, because I had hidden it so + well; but they found my jewels, and carried them off. They have them + still. The incident made quite a sensation, and we were going to get + arrested. But the king was displeased about it, and he ordered them to + leave us alone. Up to that time, I used to think it was very stupid to + collect match-boxes; but when I found that there were risks of losing + liberty, and perhaps even life, by doing it, I began to feel a taste for + it. Now I am an absolute fanatic on the subject. We are going to Sweden + next summer to complete our series.... Are we not, Dimitri?” + </p> + <p> + I felt—must I confess it?—a thorough sympathy with these + intrepid collectors. No doubt I would rather have found Monsieur and + Madame Trepof engaged in collecting antique marbles or painted vases in + Sicily. I should have like to have found them interested in the ruins of + Syracuse, or the poetical traditions of the Eryx. But at all events, they + were making some sort of a collection—they belonged to the great + confraternity—and I could not possibly make fun of them without + making fun of myself. Besides, Madame Trepof had spoken of her collection + with such an odd mingling of irony and enthusiasm that I could not help + finding the idea a very good one. + </p> + <p> + We were getting ready to leave the tavern, when we noticed some people + coming downstairs from the upper room, carrying carbines under their dark + cloaks, to me they had the look of thorough bandits; and after they were + gone I told Monsieur Trepof my opinion of them. He answered me, very + quietly, that he also thought they were regular bandits; and the guides + begged us to apply for an escort of gendarmes, but Madame Trepof besought + us not to do anything of the kind. She declared that we must not “spoil + her journey.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning her persuasive eyes upon me, she asked, + </p> + <p> + “Do you not believe, Monsieur Bonnard, that there is nothing in life worth + having except sensations?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, Madame,” I answered; “but then we must take into + consideration the nature of the sensations themselves. Those which a noble + memory or a grand spectacle creates within us certainly represent what is + best in human life; but those merely resulting from the menace of danger + seem to me sensations which one should be very careful to avoid as much as + possible. For example, would you think it a very pleasant thing, Madame, + while travelling over the mountains at midnight, to find the muzzle of a + carbine suddenly pressed against your forehead?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she replied; “the comic-operas have made carbines absolutely + ridiculous, and it would be a great misfortune to any young woman to find + herself in danger from an absurd weapon. But it would be quite different + with a knife—a very cold and very bright knife blade, which makes a + cold shudder go right through one’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered even as she spoke; closed her eyes, and threw her head back. + Then she resumed: + </p> + <p> + “People like you are so happy! You can interest yourselves in all sorts of + things!” + </p> + <p> + She gave a sidelong look at her husband, who was talking with the + innkeeper. Then she leaned towards me, and murmured very low: + </p> + <p> + “You see, Dimitri and I, we are both suffering from ennui! We have still + the match-boxes. But at last one gets tired even of match-boxes. Besides, + our collection will soon be complete. And then what are we going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Madame!” I exclaimed, touched by the moral unhappiness of this pretty + person, “if you only had a son, then you would know what to do. You would + then learn the purpose of your life, and your thoughts would become at + once more serious and yet more cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have a son,” she replied. “He is a big boy; he is eleven years old, + and he suffers from ennui like the rest of us. Yes, my George has ennui, + too; he is tired of everything. It is very wretched.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced again towards her husband, who was superintending the + harnessing of the mules on the road outside—testing the condition of + girths and straps. Then she asked me whether there had been many changes + on the Quai Malaquais during the past ten years. She declared she never + visited that neighbourhood because it was too far way. + </p> + <p> + “Too far from Monte Allegro?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no!” she replied. “Too far from the Avenue des Champs Elysees, where + we live.” + </p> + <p> + And she murmured over again, as if talking to herself, “Too far!—too + far!” in a tone of reverie which I could not possibly account for. All at + once she smiled again, and said to me, + </p> + <p> + “I like you, Monsieur Bonnard!—I like you very, very much!” + </p> + <p> + The mules had been harnessed. The young woman hastily picked up a few + oranges which had rolled off her lap; rose up; looked at me, and burst out + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed, “how I should like to see you grappling with the + brigands! You would say such extraordinary things to them!... Please take + my hat, and hold my umbrella for me, Monsieur Bonnard.” + </p> + <p> + “What a strange little mind!” I thought to myself, as I followed her. “It + could only have been in a moment of inexcusable thoughtlessness that + Nature gave a child to such a giddy little woman!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Girgenti. Same day. + </h2> + <p> + Her manners had shocked me. I left her to arrange herself in her lettica, + and I made myself as comfortable as I could in my own. These vehicles, + which have no wheels, are carried by two mules—one before and one + behind. This kind of litter, or chaise, is of ancient origin. I had often + seen representations of similar ones in the French MSS. of the fourteenth + century. I had no idea then that one of those vehicles would be at a + future day placed at my own disposal. We must never be too sure of + anything. + </p> + <p> + For three hours the mules sounded their little bells, and thumped the + calcined ground with their hoofs. On either hand there slowly defiled by + us the barren monstrous shapes of a nature totally African. + </p> + <p> + Half-way we made a halt to allow our animals to recover breath. + </p> + <p> + Madame Trepof came to me on the road, took my arm, and drew me a little + away from the party. Then, very suddenly, she said to me in a tone of + voice I had never heard before: + </p> + <p> + “Do not think that I am a wicked woman. My George knows that I am a good + mother.” + </p> + <p> + We walked side by side for a moment in silence. She looked up, and I saw + that she was crying. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I said to her, “look at this soil which has been burned and + cracked by five long months of fiery heat. A little white lily has sprung + up from it.” + </p> + <p> + And I pointed with my cane to the frail stalk, tipped by a double blossom. + </p> + <p> + “Your heart,” I said, “however arid it be, bears also its white lily; and + that is reason enough why I do not believe that you are what you say—a + wicked woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, yes!” she cried, with the obstinacy of a child—“I am a + wicked woman. But I am ashamed to appear so before you who are so good—so + very, very good.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know anything at all about it,” I said to her. + </p> + <p> + “I know it! I know all about you, Monsieur Bonnard!” she declared, with a + smile. + </p> + <p> + And she jumped back into her lettica. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Girgenti, November 30, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + I awoke the following morning in the House of Gellias. Gellias was a rich + citizen of ancient Agrigentum. He was equally celebrated for his + generosity and for his wealth; and he endowed his native city with a great + number of free inns. Gellias has been dead for thirteen hundred years; and + nowadays there is no gratuitous hospitality among civilised peoples. But + the name of Gellias has become that of a hotel in which, by reason of + fatigue, I was able to obtain one good night’s sleep. + </p> + <p> + The modern Girgenti lifts its high, narrow, solid streets, dominated by a + sombre Spanish cathedral, upon the side of the acropolis of the antique + Agrigentum. I can see from my windows, half-way on the hillside towards + the sea, the white range of temples partially destroyed. The ruins alone + have some aspect of coolness. All the rest is arid. Water and life have + forsaken Agrigentine. Water—the divine Nestis of the Agrigentine + Empedocles—is so necessary to animated beings that nothing can live + far from the rivers and the springs. But the port of Girgenti, situated at + a distance of three kilometres from the city, has a great commerce. “And + it is in this dismal city,” I said to myself, “upon this precipitous rock, + that the manuscript of Clerk Alexander is to be found!” I asked my way to + the house of Signor Michel-Angelo Polizzi, and proceeded thither. + </p> + <p> + I found Signor Polizzi, dressed all in white from head to feet, busy + cooking sausages in a frying-pan. At the sight of me, he let go the + frying-pan, threw up his arms in the air, and uttered shrieks of + enthusiasm. He was a little man whose pimply features, aquiline nose, + round eyes, and projecting chin formed a very expressive physiognomy. + </p> + <p> + He called me “Excellence,” said he was going to mark the day with a white + stone, and made me sit down. The hall in which we were represented the + union of the kitchen, reception-room, bedchamber, studio, and wine-cellar. + There were charcoal furnaces visible, a bed, paintings, an easel, bottles, + strings of onions, and a magnificent lustre of coloured glass pendants. I + glanced at the paintings on the wall. + </p> + <p> + “The arts! the arts!” cried Signor Polizzi, throwing up his arms again to + heaven—“the arts! What dignity! what consolation! Excellence, I am a + painter!” + </p> + <p> + And he showed me an unfinished Saint-Francis, which indeed could very well + remain unfinished for ever without any loss to religion or to art. Next he + showed me some old paintings of a better style, but apparently restored + after a decidedly reckless manner. + </p> + <p> + “I repair,” he said—“I repair old paintings. Oh, the Old Masters! + What genius, what soul!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” I said to him, “you must be a painter, an archaeologist, and + a wine-merchant all in one?” + </p> + <p> + “At your service, Excellence,” he answered. “I have a zucco here at this + very moment—a zucco of which every single drop is a pearl of fire. I + want your Lordship to taste of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I esteem the wines of Sicily,” I responded, “but it was not for the sake + of your flagons that I came to see you, Signor Polizzi.” + </p> + <p> + He: “Then you have come to see me about paintings. You are an amateur. It + is an immense delight for me to receive amateurs. I am going to show you + the chef-d’oeuvre of Monrealese; yes, Excellence, his chef-d’oeuvre! An + Adoration of Shepherds! It is the pearl of the whole Sicilian school!” + </p> + <p> + I: “Later on I will be glad to see the chef-d’oeuvre; but let us first + talk about the business which brings me here.” + </p> + <p> + His little quick bright eyes watched my face curiously; and I perceived, + with anguish, that he had not the least suspicion of the purpose of my + visit. + </p> + <p> + A cold sweat broke out over my forehead; and in the bewilderment of my + anxiety I stammered out something to this effect: + </p> + <p> + “I have come from Paris expressly to look at a manuscript of the Legende + Doree, which you informed me was in your possession.” + </p> + <p> + At these words he threw up his arms, opened his mouth and eyes to the + widest possible extent, and betrayed every sign of extreme nervousness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the manuscript of the ‘Golden Legend!’ A pearl, Excellence! a ruby, a + diamond! Two miniatures so perfect that they give one the feeling of + glimpses of Paradise! What suavity! Those colours ravished from the + corollas of flowers make a honey for the eyes! Even a Sicilian could have + done no better!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it, then,” I asked; unable to conceal either my anxiety or my + hope. + </p> + <p> + “Let you see it!” cried Polizzi. “But how can I, Excellence? I have not + got it any longer! I have not got it!” + </p> + <p> + And he seemed determined to tear out his hair. He might indeed have pulled + every hair in his head out of his hide before I should have tried to + prevent him. But he stopped of his own accord, before he had done himself + any grievous harm. + </p> + <p> + “What!” I cried out in anger—“what! you make me come all the way + from Paris to Girgenti, by promising to show me a manuscript, and now, + when I come, you tell me you have not got it! It is simply infamous, + Monsieur! I shall leave your conduct to be judged by all honest men!” + </p> + <p> + Anybody who could have seen me at that moment would have been able to form + a good idea of the aspect of a furious sheep. + </p> + <p> + “It is infamous! it is infamous!” I repeated, waving my arms, which + trembled from anger. + </p> + <p> + Then Michel-Angelo Polizzi let himself fall into a chair in the attitude + of a dying hero. I saw his eyes fill with tears, and his hair—until + then flamboyant and erect upon his head—fall down in limp disorder + over his brow. + </p> + <p> + “I am a father, Excellence! I am a father!” he groaned, wringing his + hands. + </p> + <p> + He continued, sobbing: + </p> + <p> + “My son Rafael—the son of my poor wife, for whose death I have been + mourning fifteen years—Rafael, Excellence, wanted to settle at + Paris; he hired a shop in the Rue Lafitte for the sale of curiosities. I + gave him everything precious which I had—I gave him my finest + majolicas; my most beautiful Urbino ware; my masterpieces of art; what + paintings, Signor! Even now they dazzle me with I see them only in + imagination! And all of them signed! Finally, I gave him the manuscript of + the ‘Golden Legend’! I would have given him my flesh and my blood! An only + son, Signor! the son of my poor saintly wife!” + </p> + <p> + “So,” I said, “while I—relying on your written word, Monsieur—was + travelling to the very heart of Sicily to find the manuscript of the Clerk + Alexander, the same manuscript was actually exposed for sale in a window + in the Rue Lafitte, only fifteen hundred yards from my house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was there! that is positively true!” exclaimed Signor Polizzi, + suddenly growing calm again; “and it is there still—at least I hope + it is, Excellence.” + </p> + <p> + He took a card from a shelf as he spoke, and offered it to me, saying, + </p> + <p> + “Here is the address of my son. Make it known to your friends, and you + will oblige me. Faience and enameled wares; hangings; pictures. He has a + complete stock of objects of art—all at the fairest possible prices—and + everything authentic, I can vouch for it, upon my honour! Go and see him. + He will show you the manuscript of the ‘Golden Legend.’ Two miniatures + miraculously fresh in colour!” + </p> + <p> + I was feeble enough to take the card he held out to me. + </p> + <p> + The fellow was taking further advantage of my weakness to make me + circulate the name of Rafael Polizzi among the Societies of the learned! + </p> + <p> + My hand was already on the door-knob, when the Sicilian caught me by the + arm; he had a look as of sudden inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Excellence!” he cried, “what a city is this city of ours! It gave + birth to Empedocles! Empedocles! What a great man what a great citizen! + What audacity of thought! what virtue! what soul! At the port over there + is a statue of Empedocles, before which I bare my head each time that I + pass by! When Rafael, my son, was going away to found an establishment of + antiquities in the Rue Lafitte, at Paris, I took him to the port, and + there, at the foot of that statue of Empedocles, I bestowed upon him my + paternal benediction! ‘Always remember Empedocles!’ I said to him. Ah! + Signor, what our unhappy country needs to-day is a new Empedocles! Would + you not like me to show you the way to his statue, Excellence? I will be + your guide among the ruins here. I will show you the temple of Castor and + Pollux, the temple of the Olympian Jupiter, the temple of the Lucinian + Juno, the antique well, the tomb of Theron, and the Gate of Gold! All the + professional guides are asses; but we—we shall make excavations, if + you are willing—and we shall discover treasures! I know the science + of discovering hidden treasures—the secret art of finding their + whereabouts—a gift from Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + I succeeded in tearing myself away from his grasp. But he ran after me + again, stopped me at the foot of the stairs, and said in my ear, + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Excellence. I will conduct you about the city; I will introduce + you to some Girgentines! What a race! what types! what forms! Sicilian + girls, Signor!—the antique beauty itself!” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil!” I cried at last, in anger, and rushed into the street, + leaving him still writhing in the loftiness of his enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + When I had got out of his sight, I sank down upon a stone, and began to + think, with my face in my hands. + </p> + <p> + “And it was for this,” I said to myself—“it was to hear such + propositions as this that I came to Sicily! That Polizzi is simply a + scoundrel, and his son another; and they made a plan together to ruin me.” + But what was their scheme? I could not unravel it. Meanwhile, it may be + imagined how discouraged and humiliated I felt. + </p> + <p> + A merry burst of laughter caused me to turn my head, and I saw Madame + Trepof running in advance of her husband, and holding up something which I + could not distinguish clearly. + </p> + <p> + She sat down beside me, and showed me—laughing more merrily all the + while—an abominable little paste-board box, on which was printed a + red and blue face, which the inscription declared to be the face of + Empedocles. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Madame,” I said, “but that abominable Polizzi, to whom I advise you + not to send Monsieur Trepof, has made me fall out for ever with + Empedocles; and this portrait is not at all of a nature to make me feel + more kindly to the ancient philosopher.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” declared Madame Trepof, “it is ugly, but it is rare! These boxes are + not exported at all; you can buy them only where they are made. Dimitri + has six others just like this in his pocket. We got them so as to exchange + with other collectors. You understand? At none o’clock this morning we + were at the factory. You see we did not waste our time.” + </p> + <p> + “So I certainly perceive, Madame,” I replied, bitterly; “but I have lost + mine.” + </p> + <p> + I then saw that she was a naturally good-hearted woman. All her merriment + vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Monsieur Bonnard! poor Monsieur Bonnard!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + And, taking my hand in hers, she added: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about your troubles.” + </p> + <p> + I told her about them. My story was long; but she was evidently touched by + it, for she asked me quite a number of circumstantial questions, which I + took for proof of her friendly interest. She wanted to know the exact + title of the manuscript, its shape, its appearance, and its age; she asked + me for the address of Signor Rafael Polizzi. + </p> + <p> + And I gave it to her; thus doing (O destiny!) precisely what the + abominable Polizzi had told me to do. + </p> + <p> + It is sometimes difficult to check oneself. I recommenced my plaints and + my imprecations. But this time Madame Trepof only burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you laugh?” I asked her. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am a wicked woman,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + And she fled away, leaving me all disheartened on my stone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Paris, December 8, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + My unpacked trunks still encumbered the hall. I was seated at a tabled + covered with all those good things which the land of France produces for + the delectation of gourmets. I was eating a pate le Chartres, which is + alone sufficient to make one love one’s country. Therese, standing before + me with her hands joined over her white apron, was looking at me with + benignity, with anxiety, and with pity. Hamilcar was rubbing himself + against my legs, wild with delight. + </p> + <p> + These words of an old poet came back to my memory: + </p> + <p> + “Happy is he who, like Ulysses, hath made a goodly journey.” + </p> + <p> + ...“Well,” I thought to myself, “I travelled to no purpose; I have come + back with empty hands; but, like Ulysses, I made a goodly journey.” + </p> + <p> + And having taken my last sip of coffee, I asked Therese for my hat and + cane, which she gave me not without dire suspicions; she feared I might be + going upon another journey. But I reassured her by telling her to have + dinner ready at six o’clock. + </p> + <p> + It had always been a keen pleasure for me to breathe the air in those + Parisian streets whose every paving-slab and every stone I love devotedly. + But I had an end in view, and I took my way straight to the Rue Lafitte. I + was not long in find the establishment of Signor Rafael Polizzi. It was + distinguishable by a great display of old paintings which, although all + bearing the signature of some illustrious artist, had a certain family air + of resemblance that might have suggested some touching idea about the + fraternity of genius, had it not still more forcibly suggested the + professional tricks of Polizzi senior. Enriched by these doubtful works of + art, the shop was further rendered attractive by various petty + curiosities: poniards, drinking-vessels, goblets, figulines, brass + guadrons, and Hispano-Arabian wares of metallic lustre. + </p> + <p> + Upon a Portuguese arm-chair, decorated with an escutcheon, lay a copy of + the “Heures” of Simon Vostre, open at the page which has an astrological + figure on it; and an old Vitruvius, placed upon a quaint chest, displayed + its masterly engravings of caryatides and telamones. This apparent + disorder which only masked cunning arrangement, this factitious hazard + which had placed the best objects in the most favourable light, would have + increased my distrust of the place, but that the distrust which the mere + name of Polizzi had already inspired could not have been increased by any + circumstances—being already infinite. + </p> + <p> + Signor Rafael, who sat there as the presiding genius of all these vague + and incongruous shapes, impressed me as a phlegmatic young man, with a + sort of English character, he betrayed no sign whatever of those + transcendent faculties displayed by his father in the arts of mimicry and + declamation. + </p> + <p> + I told him what I had come for; he opened a cabinet and drew from it a + manuscript, which he placed on a table that I might examine it at my + leisure. + </p> + <p> + Never in my life did I experience such an emotion—except, indeed, + during some few brief months of my youth, months whose memories, though I + should live a hundred years, would remain as fresh at my last hour as in + the first day they came to me. + </p> + <p> + It was, indeed, the very manuscript described by the librarian of Sir + Thomas Raleigh; it was, indeed, the manuscript of the Clerk Alexander + which I saw, which I touched! The work of Voragine himself had been + perceptibly abridged; but that made little difference to me. All the + inestimable additions of the monk of Saint-Germain-des-Pres were there. + That was the main point! I tried to read the Legend of Saint Droctoveus; + but I could not—all the lines of the page quivered before my eyes, + and there was a sound in my ears like the noise of a windmill in the + country at night. Nevertheless, I was able to see that the manuscript + offered every evidence of indubitable authenticity. The two drawings of + the Purification of the Virgin and the Coronation of Proserpine were + meagre in design and vulgar in violence of colouring. Considerably damaged + in 1824, as attested by the catalogue of Sir Thomas, they had obtained + during the interval a new aspect of freshness. But this miracle did not + surprise me at all. And, besides, what did I care about the two + miniatures? The legends and the poem of Alexander—those alone formed + the treasure I desired. My eyes devoured as much of it as they had the + power to absorb. + </p> + <p> + I affected indifference while asking Signor Polizzi the price of the + manuscript; and, while awaiting his reply, I offered up a secret prayer + that the price might not exceed the amount of ready money at my disposal—already + much diminished by the cost of my expensive voyage. Signor Polizzi, + however, informed me that he was not at liberty to dispose of the article, + inasmuch as it did not belong to him, and was to be sold at auction + shortly, at the Hotel des Ventes, with a number of other MSS. and several + incunabula. + </p> + <p> + This was a severe blow to me. It tried to preserve my calmness, + notwithstanding, and replied somewhat to this effect: + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me, Monsieur! Your father, whom I talked with recently at + Girgenti, told me positively that the manuscript was yours. You cannot now + attempt to make me discredit your father’s word.” + </p> + <p> + “I DID own the manuscript, indeed,” answered Signor Rafael with absolute + frankness; “but I do not own it any longer. I sold that manuscript—the + remarkable interest of which you have not failed to perceive—to an + amateur whom I am forbidden to name, and who, for reasons which I am not + at liberty to mention, finds himself obliged to sell his collection. I am + honoured with the confidence of my customer, and was commissioned by him + to draw up the catalogue and manage the sale, which takes place the 24th + of December. Now, if you will be kind enough to give me your address, I + shall have the pleasure of sending you the catalogue, which is already in + the press; you fill find the ‘Legende Doree’ described in it as ‘No. 42.’” + </p> + <p> + I gave my address, and left the shop. + </p> + <p> + The polite gravity of the son impressed me quite as disagreeably as the + impudent buffoonery of the father. I hated, from the bottom of my heart, + the tricks of the vile hagglers! It was perfectly evident that the two + rascals had a secret understanding, and had only devised this + auction-sale, with the aid of a professional appraiser, to force the + bidding on the manuscript I wanted so much up to an outrageous figure. I + was completely at their mercy. There is one evil in all passionate + desires, even the noblest—namely, that they leave us subject to the + will of others, and in so far dependent. This reflection made me suffer + cruelly; but it did not conquer my longing to won the work of Clerk + Alexander. While I was thus meditating, I heard a coachman swear. And I + discovered it was I whom he was swearing at only when I felt the pole of a + carriage poke me in the ribs. I started aside, barely in time to save + myself from being run over; and whom did I perceive through the windows of + the coupe? Madame Trepof, being taken by two beautiful horses, and a + coachman all wrapped up in furs like a Russian Boyard, into the very + street I had just left. She did not notice me; she was laughing to herself + with that artless grace of expression which still preserved for her, at + thirty years, all the charm of her early youth. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” I said to myself, “she is laughing! I suppose she must have + just found another match-box.” + </p> + <p> + And I made my way back to the Ponts, feeling very miserable. + </p> + <p> + Nature, eternally indifferent, neither hastened nor hurried the + twenty-fourth day of December. I went to the Hotel Bullion, and took my + place in Salle No. 4, immediately below the high desk at which the + auctioneer Boulouze and the expert Polizzi were to sit. I saw the hall + gradually fill with familiar faces. I shook hands with several old + booksellers of the quays; but that prudence which any large interest + inspires in even the most self-assured caused me to keep silence in regard + to the reason of my unaccustomed presence in the halls of the Hotel + Bullion. On the other hand, I questioned those gentlemen at the auction + sale; and I had the satisfaction of finding them all interested about + matters in no wise related to my affair. + </p> + <p> + Little by little the hall became thronged with interested or merely + curious spectators; and, after half an hour’s delay, the auctioneer with + his ivory hammer, the clerk with his bundle of memorandum-papers, and the + crier, carrying his collection-box fixed to the end of a pole, all took + their places on the platform in the most solemn business manner. The + attendants ranged themselves at the foot of the desk. The presiding + officer having declared the sale open, a partial hush followed. + </p> + <p> + A commonplace series of Preces dia, with miniatures, were first sold off + at mediocre prices. Needless to say, the illuminations of these books were + in perfect condition! + </p> + <p> + The lowness of the bids gave courage to the gathering of second-hand + booksellers present, who began to mingle with us, and become more + familiar. The dealers in old brass and bric-a-brac pressed forward in + their tun, waiting for the doors of an adjoining room to be opened; and + the voice of the auctioneer was drowned by the jests of the Auvergnats. + </p> + <p> + A magnificent codex of the “Guerre des Juifs” revived attention. It was + long disputed for. “Five thousand francs! five thousand!” called the + crier, while the bric-a-brac dealers remained silent with admiration. Then + seven or eight antiphonaries brought us back again to low prices. A fat + old woman, in a loose gown, bareheaded—a dealer in second-hand goods—encouraged + by the size of the books and the low prices bidden, had one of the + antiphonaries knocked down to her for thirty francs. + </p> + <p> + At last the expert Polizzi announced No. 42: “The ‘Golden Legend’; French + MS.; unpublished; two superb miniatures, with a starting bid of three + thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand! three thousand bid!” yelled the crier. + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand!” dryly repeated the auctioneer. + </p> + <p> + There was a buzzing in my head, and, as through a cloud, I saw a host of + curious faces all turning towards the manuscript, which a boy was carrying + open through the audience. + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand and fifty!” I said. + </p> + <p> + I was frightened by the sound of my own voice, and further confused by + seeing, or thinking that I saw, all eyes turned on me. + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand and fifty on the right!” called the crier, taking up my + bid. + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand one hundred!” responded Signor Polizzi. + </p> + <p> + Then began a heroic duel between the expert and myself. + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand five hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “Six hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “Seven hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand!” + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand five hundred.” + </p> + <p> + Then by a sudden bold stroke, Signor Polizzi raised the bid at once to six + thousand. + </p> + <p> + Six thousand francs was all the money I could dispose of. It represented + the possible. I risked the impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Six thousand one hundred!” + </p> + <p> + Alas! even the impossible did not suffice. + </p> + <p> + “Six thousand five hundred!” replied Signor Polizzi, with calm. + </p> + <p> + I bowed my head and sat there stupefied, unable to answer either yes or no + to the crier, who called to me: + </p> + <p> + “Six thousand five hundred, by me—not by you on the right there!—it + is my bid—no mistake! Six thousand five hundred!” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly understood!” declared the auctioneer. “Six thousand five + hundred. Perfectly clear; perfectly plain.... Any more bids? The last bid + is six thousand five hundred francs.” + </p> + <p> + A solemn silence prevailed. Suddenly I felt as if my head had burst open. + It was the hammer of the officiant, who, with a loud blow on the platform, + adjudged No. 42 irrevocably to Signor Polizzi. Forthwith the pen of the + clerk, coursing over the papier-timbre, registered that great fact in a + single line. + </p> + <p> + I was absolutely prostrated, and I felt the utmost need of rest and quiet. + Nevertheless, I did not leave my seat. My powers of reflection slowly + returned. Hope is tenacious. I had one more hope. It occurred to me that + the new owner of the “Legende Doree” might be some intelligent and liberal + bibliophile who would allow me to examine the MS., and perhaps even to + publish the more important parts. And, with this idea, as soon as the sale + was over I approached the expert as he was leaving the platform. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” I asked him, “did you buy in No. 42 on your own account, or on + commission?” + </p> + <p> + “On commission. I was instructed not to let it go at any price.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me the name of the purchaser?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I regret that I cannot serve you in that respect. I have been + strictly forbidden to mention the name.” + </p> + <p> + I went home in despair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + December 30, 1859. + </h2> + <p> + “Therese! don’t you hear the bell? Somebody has been ringing at the door + for the last quarter of an hour?” + </p> + <p> + Therese does not answer. She is chattering downstairs with the concierge, + for sure. So that is the way you observe your old master’s birthday? You + desert me even on the eve of Saint-Sylvestre! Alas! if I am to hear any + kind wishes to-day, they must come up from the ground; for all who love me + have long been buried. I really don’t know what I am still living for. + There is the bell again!... I get up slowly from my seat at the fire, with + my shoulders still bent from stooping over it, and go to the door myself. + Whom do I see at the threshold? It is not a dripping love, and I am not an + old Anacreon; but it is a very pretty little boy of about ten years old. + He is alone; he raises his face to look at me. His cheeks are blushing; + but his little pert nose gives one an idea of mischievous pleasantry. He + has feathers in his cap, and a great lace-ruff on his jacket. The pretty + little fellow! He holds in both arms a bundle as big as himself, and asks + me if I am Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard. I tell him yes; he gives me the + bundle, tells me his mamma sent it to me, and then he runs downstairs. + </p> + <p> + I go down a few steps; I lean over the balustrade, and see the little cap + whirling down the spiral of the stairway like a feather in the wind. + “Good-bye, my little boy!” I should have liked so much to question him. + But what, after all, could I have asked? It is not polite to question + children. Besides, the package itself will probably give me more + information than the messenger could. + </p> + <p> + It is a very big bundle, but not very heavy. I take it into my library, + and there untie the ribbons and unfasten the paper wrappings; and I see—what? + a log! a first-class log! a real Christmas log, but so light that I know + it must be hollow. Then I find that it is indeed composed of two separate + pieces, opening on hinges, and fastened with hooks. I slip the hooks back, + and find myself inundated with violets! Violets! they pour over my table, + over my knees, over the carpet. They tumble into my vest, into my sleeves. + I am all perfumed with them. + </p> + <p> + “Therese! Therese! fill me some vases with water, and bring them here, + quick! Here are violets sent to us I know not from what country nor by + what hand; but it must be from a perfumed country, and by a very gracious + hand.... Do you hear me, old crow?” + </p> + <p> + I have put all the violets on my table—now completely covered by the + odorous mass. But there is still something in the log...a book—a + manuscript. It is...I cannot believe it, and yet I cannot doubt it.... It + is the “Legende Doree”!—It is the manuscript of the Clerk Alexander! + Here is the “Purification of the Virgin” and the “Coronation of + Proserpine”;—here is the legend of Saint Droctoveus. I contemplate + this violet-perfumed relic. I turn the leaves of it—between which + the dark rich blossoms have slipped in here and there; and, right opposite + the legend of Saint-Cecilia, I find a card bearing this name: + </p> + <p> + “Princess Trepof.” + </p> + <p> + Princess Trepof!—you who laughed and wept by turns so sweetly under + the fair sky of Agrigentum!—you, whom a cross old man believed to be + only a foolish little woman!—to-day I am convinced of your rare and + beautiful folly; and the old fellow whom you now overwhelm with happiness + will go to kiss your hand, and give you back, in another form, this + precious manuscript, of which both he and science owe you an exact and + sumptuous publication! + </p> + <p> + Therese entered my study just at that moment; she seemed to be very much + excited. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” she cried, “guess whom I saw just now in a carriage, with a + coat-of-arms painted on it, that was stopping before the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu!—Madame Trepof,” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know anything about any Madame Trepof,” answered my housekeeper. + “The woman I saw just now was dressed like a duchess, and had a little boy + with her, with lace-frills all along the seams of his clothes. And it was + that same little Madame Coccoz you once sent a log to, when she was + lying-in here about eleven years ago. I recognized her at once.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” I exclaimed, “you mean to say it was Madame Coccoz, the widow of + the almanac-peddler?” + </p> + <p> + “Herself, Monsieur! The carriage-door was open for a minute to let her + little boy, who had just come from I don’t know where, get in. She hasn’t + changed scarcely at all. Well, why should those women change?—they + never worry themselves about anything. Only the Coccoz woman looks a + little fatter than she used to be. And the idea of a woman that was taken + in here out of pure charity coming to show off her velvets and diamonds in + a carriage with a crest painted on it! Isn’t it shameful!” + </p> + <p> + “Therese!” I cried, in a terrible voice, “if you ever speak to me again + about that lady except in terms of the deepest respect, you and I will + fall out!...Bring me the Sevres vases to put those violets in, which now + give the City of Books a charm it never had before.” + </p> + <p> + While Therese went off with a sigh to get the Sevres vases, I continued to + contemplate those beautiful scattered violets, whose odour spread all + about me like the perfume of some sweet presence, some charming soul; and + I asked myself how it had been possible for me never to recognise Madame + Coccoz in the person of the Princess Trepof. But that vision of the young + widow, showing me her little child on the stairs, had been a very rapid + one. I had much more reason to reproach myself for having passed by a + gracious and lovely soul without knowing it. + </p> + <p> + “Bonnard,” I said to myself, “thou knowest how to decipher old texts; but + thou dost not know how to read in the Book of Life. That giddy little + Madame Trepof, whom thou once believed to possess no more soul than a + bird, has expended, in pure gratitude, more zeal and finer tact than thou + didst ever show for anybody’s sake. Right royally hath she repaid thee for + the log-fire of her churching-day! + </p> + <p> + “Therese! Awhile ago you were a magpie; now you are becoming a tortoise! + Come and give some water to these Parmese violets.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PART II—THE DAUGHTER OF CLEMENTINE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I—The Fairy + </h2> + <p> + When I left the train at the Melun station, night had already spread its + peace over the silent country. The soil, heated through all the long day + by a strong sun—by a “gros soleil,” as the harvesters of the Val de + Vire say—still exhaled a warm heavy smell. Lush dense odours of + grass passed over the level of the fields. I brushed away the dust of the + railway carriage, and joyfully inhaled the pure air. My travelling-bag—filled + by my housekeeper wit linen and various small toilet articles, munditiis, + seemed so light in my hand that I swung it about just as a schoolboy + swings his strapped package of rudimentary books when the class is let + out. + </p> + <p> + Would to Heaven that I were again a little urchin at school! But it is + fully fifty years since my good dead mother made me some tartines of bread + and preserves, and placed them in a basket of which she slipped the handle + over my arm, and then led me, thus prepared, to the school kept by + Monsieur Douloir, at a corner of the Passage du Commerce well known to the + sparrows, between a court and a garden. The enormous Monsieur Douloir + smiled upon us genially, and patted my cheek to show, no doubt, the + affectionate interest which my first appearance had inspired. But when my + mother had passed out of the court, startling the sparrows as she went, + Monsieur Douloir ceased to smile—he showed no more affectionate + interest; he appeared, on the contrary, to consider me as a very + troublesome little fellow. I discovered, later on, that he entertained the + same feelings towards all his pupils. He distributed whacks of his ferule + with an agility no one could have expected on the part of so corpulent a + person. But his first aspect of tender interest invariably reappeared when + he spoke to any of our mothers in our presence; and always at such times, + while warmly praising our remarkable aptitudes, he would cast down upon us + a look of intense affection. Still, those were happy days which I passed + on the benches of the Monsieur Couloir with my little playfellows, who, + like myself, cried and laughed by turns with all their might, from morning + till evening. + </p> + <p> + After a whole half-century these souvenirs float up again, fresh and + bright as ever, to the surface of memory, under this starry sky, whose + face has in no wise changed since then, and whose serene and immutable + lights will doubtless see many other schoolboys such as I was slowly turn + into grey-headed servants, afflicted with catarrh. + </p> + <p> + Stars, who have shown down upon each wise or foolish head among all my + forgotten ancestors, it is under your soft light that I now feel stir + within me a certain poignant regret! I would that I could have a son who + might be able to see you when I shall see you no more. How I should love + him! Ah! such a son would—what am I saying?—why, he would be + no just twenty years old if you had only been willing, Clementine—you + whose cheeks used to look so ruddy under your pink hood! But you are + married to that young bank clerk, Noel Alexandre, who made so many + millions afterwards! I never met you again after your marriage, + Clementine, but I can see you now, with your bright curls and your pink + hood. + </p> + <p> + A looking-glass! a looking-glass! a looking-glass! Really, it would be + curious to see what I look like now, with my white hair, sighing + Clementine’s name to the stars! Still, it is not right to end with sterile + irony the thought begun in the spirit of faith and love. No, Clementine, + if your name came to my lips by chance this beautiful night, be it for + ever blessed, your dear name! and may you ever, as a happy mother, a happy + grandmother, enjoy to the very end of life with your rich husband the + utmost degree of that happiness which you had the right to believe you + could not win with the poor young scholar who loved you! If—though I + cannot even now imagine it—if your beautiful hair has become white, + Clementine, bear worthily the bundle of keys confided to you by Noel + Alexandre, and impart to your grandchildren the knowledge of all domestic + virtues! + </p> + <p> + Ah! beautiful Night! She rules, with such noble repose, over men and + animals alike, kindly loosed by her from the yoke of daily toil; and even + I feel her beneficent influence, although my habits of sixty years have so + changed me that I can feel most things only through the signs which + represent them. My world is wholly formed of words—so much of a + philologist I have become! Each one dreams the dream of life in his own + way. I have dreamed it in my library; and when the hour shall come in + which I must leave this world, may it please God to take me from my ladder—from + before my shelves of books!... + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! it is really himself, pardieu! How are you, Monsieur + Sylvestre Bonnard? And where have you been travelling to all this time, + over the country, while I was waiting for you at the station with my + cabriolet? You missed me when the train came in, and I was driving back, + quite disappointed, to Lusance. Give me your valise, and get up here + beside me in the carriage. Why, do you know it is fully seven kilometres + from here to the chateau?” + </p> + <p> + Who addresses me thus, at the very top of his voice from the height of his + cabriolet? Monsieur Paul de Gabry, nephew and heir of Monsieur Honore de + Gabry, peer of France in 1842, who recently died at Monaco. And it was + precisely to Monsieur Paul de Gabry’s house that I was going with that + valise of mine, so carefully strapped by my housekeeper. This excellent + young man has just inherited, conjointly with his two brothers-in-law, the + property of his uncle, who, belonging to a very ancient family of + distinguished lawyers, had accumulated in his chateau at Lusance a library + rich in MSS., some dating back to the fourteenth century. It was for the + purpose of making an inventory and catalogue of these MSS. that I had come + to Lusance at the urgent request of Monsieur Paul de Gabry, whose father, + a perfect gentleman and distinguished bibliophile, had maintained the most + pleasant relations with me during his lifetime. To tell the truth, + Monsieur Paul has not inherited the fine tastes of his father. Monsieur + Paul likes sporting; he is a great authority on horses and dogs; and I + much fear that of all the sciences capable of satisfying or of duping the + inexhaustible curiosity of mankind, those of the stable and the dog-kennel + are the only ones thoroughly mastered by him. + </p> + <p> + I cannot say I was surprised to meet him, since we had made a rendezvous; + but I acknowledge that I had become so preoccupied with my own thoughts + that I had forgotten all about the Chateau de Lusance and its inhabitants, + and that the voice of the gentleman calling out to me as I started to + follow the country road winding away before me—“un bon ruban de + queue,” as they say—had given me quite a start. + </p> + <p> + I fear my face must have betrayed my incongruous distraction by a certain + stupid expression which it is apt to assume in most of my social + transactions. My valise was pulled up into the carriage, and I followed my + valise. My host pleased me by his straightforward simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know anything myself about your old parchments,” he said; “but I + think you will find some folks to talk to at the house. Besides the cure, + who writes books himself, and the doctor, who is a very good fellow—although + a radical—you will meet somebody able to keep your company. I mean + my wife. She is not a very learned woman, but there are few things which + she can’t divine pretty well. Then I count upon being able to keep you + with us long enough to make you acquainted with Mademoiselle Jeanne, who + has the fingers of a magician and the soul of an angel.” + </p> + <p> + “And is this delightfully gifted young lady one of your family?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” replied Monsieur Paul. + </p> + <p> + “Then she is just a friend of yours?” I persisted, rather stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “She has lost both her father and mother,” answered Monsieur de Gabry, + keeping his eyes fixed upon the ears of his horse, whose hoofs rang loudly + over the road blue-tinted by the moonshine. “Her father managed to get us + into some very serious trouble; and we did not get off with a fright + either!” + </p> + <p> + Then he shook his head, and changed the subject. He gave me due warning of + the ruinous condition in which I should find the chateau and the park; + they had been absolutely deserted for thirty-two years. + </p> + <p> + I learned from him that Monsieur Honore de Gabry, his uncle, had been on + very bad terms with some poachers, whom he used to shoot at like rabbits. + One of them, a vindictive peasant, who had received a whole charge of shot + in his face, lay in wait for the Seigneur one evening behind the trees of + the mall, and very nearly succeeded in killing him, for the ball took off + the tip of his ear. + </p> + <p> + “My uncle,” Monsieur Paul continued, “tried to discover who had fired the + shot; but he could not see any one, and he walked back slowly to the + house. The day after he called his steward and ordered him to close up the + manor and the park, and allow no living soul to enter. He expressly + forbade that anything should be touched, or looked after, or any repairs + made on the estate during his absence. He added, between his teeth, that + he would return at Easter, or Trinity Sunday, as they say in the song; + and, just as the song has it, Trinity Sunday passed without a sign of him. + He died last year at Monaco; my brother-in-law and myself were the first + to enter the chateau after it had been abandoned for thirty-two years. We + found a chestnut-tree growing in the middle of the parlour. As for the + park, it was useless trying to visit it, because there were no longer any + paths or alleys.” + </p> + <p> + My companion ceased to speak; and only the regular hoof-beat of the + trotting horse, and the chirping of insects in the grass, broke the + silence. On either hand, the sheaves standing in the fields took, in the + vague moonlight, the appearance of tall white women kneeling down; and I + abandoned myself awhile to those wonderful childish fancies which the + charm of night always suggests. After driving under the heavy shadows of + the mall, we turned to the right and rolled up a lordly avenue at the end + of which the chateau suddenly rose into view—a black mass, with + turrets en poivriere. We followed a sort of causeway, which gave access to + the court-of-honor, and which, passing over a moat full of running water, + doubtless replaced a long-vanished drawbridge. The loss of that + draw-bridge must have been, I think, the first of various humiliations to + which the warlike manor had been subjected ere being reduced to that + pacific aspect with which it received me. The stars reflected themselves + with marvelous clearness in the dark water. Monsieur Paul, like a + courteous host, escorted me to my chamber at the very top of the building, + at the end of a long corridor; and then, excusing himself for not + presenting me at once to his wife by reason of the lateness of the hour, + bade me good-night. + </p> + <p> + My apartment, painted in white and hung with chintz, seemed to keep some + traces of the elegant gallantry of the eighteenth century. A heap of + still-glowing ashes—which testified to the pains taken to dispel + humidity—filled the fireplace, whose marble mantlepiece supported a + bust of Marie Antoinette in bisuit. Attached to the frame of the tarnished + and discoloured mirror, two brass hooks, that had once doubtless served + the ladies of old-fashioned days to hang their chatelaines on, seemed to + offer a very opportune means of suspending my watch, which I took care to + wind up beforehand; for, contrary to the opinion of the Thelemites, I hold + that man is only master of time, which is Life itself, when he has divided + it into hours, minutes and seconds—that is to say, into parts + proportioned to the brevity of human existence. + </p> + <p> + And I thought to myself that life really seems short to us only because we + measure it irrationally by our own mad hopes. We have all of us, like the + old man in the fable, a new wing to add to our building. I want, for + example, before I die, to finish my “History of the Abbots of + Saint-Germain-de-Pres.” The time God allots to each one of us is like a + precious tissue which we embroider as we best know how. I had begun my + woof with all sorts of philological illustrations.... So my thoughts + wandered on; and at last, as I bound my foulard about my head, the notion + of Time led me back to the past; and for the second time within the same + round of the dial I thought of you, Clementine—to bless you again in + your prosperity, if you have any, before blowing out my candle and falling + asleep amid the chanting of the frogs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p> + During breakfast I had many opportunities to appreciate the good taste, + tact, and intelligence of Madame de Gabry, who told me that the chateau + had its ghosts, and was especially haunted by the + “Lady-with-three-wrinkles-in-her-back,” a prisoner during her lifetime, + and thereafter a Soul-in-pain. I could never describe how much wit and + animation she gave to this old nurse’s tale. We took out, coffee on the + terrace, whose balusters, clasped and forcibly torn away from their stone + coping by a vigorous growth of ivy, remained suspended in the grasp of the + amorous plant like bewildered Athenian women in the arms of ravishing + Centaurs. + </p> + <p> + The chateau, shaped something like a four-wheeled wagon, with a turret at + each of the four angles, had lost all original character by reason of + repeated remodellings. It was merely a fine spacious building, nothing + more. It did not appear to me to have suffered much damage during its + abandonment of thirty-two years. But when Madame de Gabry conducted me + into the great salon of the ground-floor, I saw that the planking was + bulged in and out, the plinths rotten, the wainscotings split apart, the + paintings of the piers turned black and hanging more than half out of + their settings. A chestnut-tree, after forcing up the planks of the floor, + had grown tall under the ceiling, and was reaching out its large-leaved + branches towards the glassless windows. + </p> + <p> + This spectacle was not devoid of charm; but I could not look at it without + anxiety as I remembered that the rich library of Monsieur Honore de Gabry, + in an adjoining apartment, must have been exposed for the same length of + time to the same forces of decay. Yet, as I looked at the young + chestnut-tree in the salon, I could not but admire the magnificent vigour + of Nature, and that resistless power which forces every germ to develop + into life. On the other hand I felt saddened to think that, whatever + effort we scholars may make to preserve dead things from passing away, we + are labouring painfully in vain. Whatever has lived becomes the necessary + food of new existences. And the Arab who builds himself a hut out of the + marble fragments of a Palmyra temple is really more of a philosopher than + all the guardians of museums at London, Munich, or Paris. + </p> + <p> + August 11. + </p> + <p> + All day long I have been classifying MSS.... The sun came in through the + loft uncurtained windows; and, during my reading, often very interesting, + I could hear the languid bumblebees bump heavily against the windows, and + the flies intoxicated with light and heat, making their wings hum in + circles around my head. So loud became their humming about three o’clock + that I looked up from the document I was reading—a document + containing very precious materials for the history of Melun in the + thirteenth century—to watch the concentric movements of those tiny + creatures. “Bestions,” Lafontaine calls them: he found this form of the + word in the old popular speech, whence also the term, + tapisserie-a-bestions, applied to figured tapestry. I was compelled to + confess that the effect of heat upon the wings of a fly is totally + different from that it exerts upon the brain of a paleographical + archivist; for I found it very difficult to think, and a rather pleasant + languor weighing upon me, from which I could rouse myself only by a very + determined effort. The dinner-bell then startled me in the midst of my + labours; and I had barely time to put on my new dress-coat, so as to make + a respectable appearance before Madame de Gabry. + </p> + <p> + The repast, generously served, seemed to prolong itself for my benefit. I + am more than a fair judge of wine; and my hostess, who discovered my + knowledge in this regard, was friendly enough to open a certain bottle of + Chateau-Margaux in my honour. With deep respect I drank of this famous and + knightly old wine, which comes from the slopes of Bordeaux, and of which + the flavour and exhilarating power are beyond praise. The ardour of it + spread gently through my veins, and filled me with an almost juvenile + animation. Seated beside Madame de Gabry on the terrace, in the gloaming + which gave a charming melancholy to the park, and lent to every object an + air of mystery, I took pleasure in communicating my impression of the + scene to my hostess. I discoursed with a vivacity quite remarkable on the + part of a man so devoid of imagination as I am. I described to her + spontaneously, without quoting from an old texts, the caressing melancholy + of the evening, and the beauty of that natal earth which feeds us, not + only with bread and wine, but also with ideas, sentiments, and beliefs, + and which will at last take us all back to her maternal breast again, like + so many tired little children at the close of a long day. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the kind lady, “you see these old towers, those trees, + that sky; is it not quite natural that the personage of the popular tales + and folk-songs should have been evoked by such scenes? Why, over there is + the very path which Little Red Riding-hood followed when she went to the + woods to pick nuts. Across this changeful and always vapoury sky the fairy + chariots used to roll; and the north tower might have sheltered under its + pointed roof that same old spinning woman whose distaff picked the + Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.” + </p> + <p> + I continued to muse upon her pretty fancies, while Monsieur Paul related + to me, as he puffed a very strong cigar, the history of some suit he had + brought against the commune about a water-right. Madame de Gabry, feeling + the chill night air, began to shiver under the shawl her husband had + wrapped about her, and left us to go to her room. I then decided, instead + of going to my own, to return to the library and continue my examination + of the manuscripts. In spite of the protests of Monsieur Paul, I entered + what I may call, in old-fashioned phrase, “the book-room,” and started to + work by the light of a lamp. + </p> + <p> + After having read fifteen pages, evidently written by some ignorant and + careless scribe, for I could scarcely discern their meaning, I plunged my + hand into the pocket of my coat to get my snuff-box; but this movement, + usually so natural and almost instinctive, this time cost me some effort + and even fatigue. Nevertheless, I got out the silver box, and took from it + a pinch of the odorous powder, which, somehow or other, I managed to spill + all over my shirt-bosom under my baffled nose. I am sure my nose must have + expressed its disappointment, for it is a very expressive nose. More than + once it has betrayed my secret thoughts, and especially upon a certain + occasion at the public library of Coutances, where I discovered, right in + front of my colleague Brioux, the “Cartulary of Notre-Dame-des-Anges.” + </p> + <p> + What a delight! My little eyes remained as dull and expressionless as ever + behind my spectacles. But at the mere sight of my thick pug-nose, which + quivered with joy and pride, Brioux knew that I had found something. He + noted the volume I was looking at, observed the place where I put it back, + pounced upon it as soon as I turned my heel, copied it secretly, and + published in haste, for the sake of playing me a trick. But his edition + swarms with errors, and I had the satisfaction of afterwards criticising + some of the gross blunders he made. + </p> + <p> + But to come back to the point at which I left off: I began to suspect that + I was getting very sleepy indeed. I was looking at a chart of which the + interest may be divined from the fact that it contained mention of a hutch + sold to Jehan d’Estonville, priest, in 1312. But although, even then, I + could recognise the importance of the document, I did not give it that + attention it so strongly invited. My eyes would keep turning, against my + will, towards a certain corner of the table where there was nothing + whatever interesting to a learned mind. There was only a big German book + there, bound in pigskin, with brass studs on the sides, and very thick + cording upon the back. It was a find copy of a compilation which has + little to recommend it except the wood engravings it contains, and which + is known as the “Cosmography of Munster.” This volume, with its covers + slightly open, was placed upon edge with the back upwards. + </p> + <p> + I could not say for how long I had been staring causelessly at the + sixteenth-century folio, when my eyes were captivated by a sight so + extraordinary that even a person as devoid of imagination as I could not + but have been greatly astonished by it. + </p> + <p> + I perceived, all of a sudden, without having noticed her coming into the + room, a little creature seated on the back of the book, with one knee bent + and one leg hanging down—somewhat in the attitude of the amazons of + Hyde Park or the Bois de Boulogne on horseback. She was so small that her + swinging foot did not reach the table, over which the trail of her dress + extended in a serpentine line. But her face and figure were those of an + adult. The fulness of her corsage and the roundness of her waist could + leave no doubt of that, even for an old savant like myself. I will venture + to add that she was very handsome, with a proud mien; for my iconographic + studies have long accustomed me to recognise at once the perfection of a + type and the character of a physiognomy. The countenance of this lady who + had seated herself inopportunely on the back of “Cosmography of Munster” + expressed a mingling of haughtiness and mischievousness. She had the air + of a queen, but a capricious queen; and I judged, from the mere expression + of her eyes, that she was accustomed to wield great authority somewhere, + in a very whimsical manner. Her mouth was imperious and mocking, and those + blue eyes of hers seemed to laugh in a disquieting way under her finely + arched black eyebrows. I have always heard that black eyebrows are very + becoming to blondes; but this lady was very blonde. On the whole, the + impression she gave me was one of greatness. + </p> + <p> + It may seem odd to say that a person who was no taller than a wine-bottle, + and who might have been hidden in my coat pocket—but that it would + have been very disrespectful to put her in it—gave me precisely an + idea of greatness. But in the fine proportions of the lady seated upon the + “Cosmography of Munster” there was such a proud elegance, such a + harmonious majesty, and she maintained an attitude at once so easy and so + noble, that she really seemed to me a very great person. Although my + ink-bottle, which she examined with an expression of such mockery as + appeared to indicate that she knew in advance every word that would come + out of it at the end of my pen, was for her a deep basin in which she + would have blackened her gold-clocked pink stockings up to the garter, I + can assure you that she was great, and imposing even in her sprightliness. + </p> + <p> + Her costume, worthy of her face, was extremely magnificent; it consisted + of a robe of gold-and-silver brocade, and a mantle of nacarat velvet, + lined with vair. Her head-dress was a sort of hennin, with two high + points; and pearls of splendid lustre made it bright and luminous as a + crescent moon. Her little white hand held a wand. That wand drew my + attention very strongly, because my archaeological studies had taught me + to recognise with certainty every sign by which the notable personages of + legend and of history are distinguished. This knowledge came to my aid + during various very queer conjectures with which I was labouring. I + examined the wand, and saw that it appeared to have been cut from a branch + of hazel. + </p> + <p> + “Then its a fairy’s wand,” I said to myself; “consequently the lady who + carries it is a fairy.” + </p> + <p> + Happy at thus discovering what sort of a person was before me, I tried to + collect my mind sufficiently to make her a graceful compliment. It would + have given me much satisfaction, I confess, if I could have talked to her + about the part taken by her people, not less in the life of the Saxon and + Germanic races, than in that of the Latin Occident. Such a dissertation, + it appeared to me, would have been an ingenious method of thanking the + lady for having thus appeared to an old scholar, contrary to the + invariable custom of her kindred, who never show themselves but to + innocent children or ignorant village-folk. + </p> + <p> + Because one happens to be a fairy, one is none the less a woman, I said to + myself; and since Madame Recamier, according to what I heard J. J. Ampere + say, used to blush with pleasure when the little chimney-sweeps opened + their eyes as wide as they could to look at her, surely the supernatural + lady seated upon the “Cosmography of Munster” might feel flattered to hear + an erudite man discourse learnedly about her, as about a medal, a seal, a + fibula, or a token. But such an undertaking, which would have cost my + timidity a great deal, became totally out of the question when I observed + the Lady of the Cosmography suddenly take from an alms purse hanging at + her girdle the very smallest of nuts I had ever seen, crack the shells + between her teeth, and throw them at my nose, while she nibbled the + kernels with the gravity of a sucking child. + </p> + <p> + At this conjuncture, I did what the dignity of science demanded of me—I + remained silent. But the nut-shells caused such a painful tickling that I + put up my hand to my nose, and found, to my great surprise, that my + spectacles were straddling the very end of it—so that I was actually + looking at the lady, not through my spectacles, but over them. This was + incomprehensible, because my eyes, worn out over old texts, cannot + ordinarily distinguish anything without glasses—could not tell a + melon from a decanter, though the two were placed close up to my nose. + </p> + <p> + That nose of mine, remarkable for its size, its shape, and its coloration, + legitimately attracted the attention of the fairy; for she seized my + goose-quill pen, which was sticking up from the ink-bottle like a plume, + and she began to pass the feather-end of that pen over my nose. I had had + more than once, in company, occasion to suffer cheerfully from the + innocent mischief of young ladies, who made me join their games, and would + offer me their cheeks to kiss through the back of a chair, or invite me to + blow out a candle which they would lift suddenly above the range of my + breath. But until that moment no person of the fair sex had ever subjected + me to such a whimsical piece of familiarity as that of tickling my nose + with my own feather pen. Happily I remembered the maxim of my late + grandfather, who was accustomed to say that everything was permissible on + the part of ladies, and that whatever they do to us is to be regarded as a + grace and a favour. Therefore, as a grace and a favour I received the + nutshells and the titillations with my own pen, and I tried to smile. Much + more!—I even found speech. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I said, with dignified politeness, “you accord the honour of a + visit not to a silly child, not to a boor, but to a bibliophile who is + very happy to make your acquaintance, and who knows that long ago you used + to make elf-knots in the manes of mares at the crib, drink the milk from + the skimming-pails, slip graines-a-gratter down the backs of our + great-grandmothers, make the hearth sputter in the faces of the old folks, + and, in short, fill the house with disorder and gaiety. You can also boast + of giving the nicest frights in the world to lovers who stayed out in the + woods too late of evenings. But I thought you had vanished out of + existence at least three centuries ago. Can it really be, Madame, that you + are still to be seen in this age of railways and telegraphs? My concierge, + who used to be a nurse in her young days, does not know your story; and my + little boy-neighbour, whose nose is still wiped for him by his bonne, + declares that you do not exist.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you yourself think about it?” she cried, in a silvery voice, + straightening up her royal little figure in a very haughty fashion, and + whipping the back of the “Cosmography of Munster” as though it were a + hippogriff. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t really know,” I answered rubbing my eyes. + </p> + <p> + This reply, indicating a deeply scientific scepticism, had the most + deplorable effect upon my questioner. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard,” she said to me, “you are nothing but an old + pedant. I always suspected as much. The smallest little ragamuffin who + goes along the road with his shirt-tail sticking out through a hole in his + pantaloons knows more about me than all the old spectacled folks in your + Institutes and your Academies. To know is nothing at all; to imagine is + everything. Nothing exists except that which is imagined. I am imaginary. + That is what it is to exist, I should think! I am dreamed of, and I + appear. Everything is only dream; and as nobody ever dreams about you, + Sylvestre Bonnard, it is YOU who do not exist. I charm the world; I am + everywhere—on a moon-beam, in the trembling of a hidden spring, in + the moving of leaves that murmur, in the white vapours that rise each + morning from the hollow meadow, in the thickets of pink brier—everywhere!... + I am seen; I am loved. There are sighs uttered, weird thrills of pleasure + felt by those who follow the light print of my feet, as I make the dead + leaves whisper. I make the little children smile; I give wit to the + dullest-minded nurses. Leaning above the cradles, I play, I comfort, I + lull to sleep—and you doubt whether I exist! Sylvestre Bonnard, your + warm coat covers the hide of an ass!” + </p> + <p> + She ceased speaking; her delicate nostrils swelled with indignation; and + while I admired, despite my vexation, the heroic anger of this little + person, she pushed my pen about in the ink-bottle, backward and forward, + like an oar, and then suddenly threw it at my nose, point first. + </p> + <p> + I rubbed by face, and felt it all covered with ink. She had disappeared. + My lamp was extinguished. A ray of moonlight streamed down through a + window and descended upon the “Cosmography of Munster.” A strong cool + wind, which had arisen very suddenly without my knowledge, was blowing my + papers, pens, and wafers about. My table was all stained with ink. I had + left my window open during the storm. What an imprudence! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p> + I wrote to my housekeeper, as I promised, that I was safe and sound. But I + took good care not to tell her that I had caught a cold from going to + sleep in the library at night with the window open; for the good woman + would have been as unsparing in her remonstrances to me as parliaments to + kings. “At your age, Monsieur,” she would have been sure to say, “one + ought to have more sense.” She is simple enough to believe that sense + grows with age. I seem to her an exception to this rule. + </p> + <p> + Not having any similar motive for concealing my experiences from Madame de + Gabry, I told her all about my vision, which she seemed to enjoy very + much. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that was a charming dream of yours,” she said; “and one must have + real genius to dream such a dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am a real genius when I am asleep,” I responded. + </p> + <p> + “When you dream,” she replied; “and you are always dreaming.” + </p> + <p> + I know that Madame de Gabry, in making this remark, only wished to please + me; but that intention alone deserves my utmost gratitude; and it is + therefore in a spirit of thankfulness and kindliest remembrance that I + write down her words, which I will read over and over again until my dying + day, and which will never be read by any one save myself. + </p> + <p> + I passed the next few days in completing the inventory of the manuscripts + in the Lusance library. Certain confidential observations dropped by + Monsieur Paul de Gabry, however, caused me some painful surprise, and made + me decide to pursue the work after a different manner from that in which I + had begun it. From those few words I learned that the fortune of Monsieur + Honore de Gabry, which had been badly managed for many years, and + subsequently swept away to a large extent through the failure of a banker + whose name I do not know, had been transmitted to the heirs of the old + French nobleman only under the form of mortgaged real estate and + irrecoverable assets. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Paul, by agreement with his joint heirs, had decided to sell the + library, and I was intrusted with the task of making arrangements to have + the sale effected upon advantageous terms. But totally ignorant as I was + of all the business methods and trade-customs, I thought it best to get + the advice of a publisher who was one of my private friends. I wrote him + at once to come and join me at Lusance; and while waiting for his arrival + I took my hat and cane and made visits to the different churches of the + diocese, in several of which I knew there were certain mortuary + inscriptions to be found which had never been correctly copied. + </p> + <p> + So I left my hosts and departed my pilgrimage. Exploring the churches and + the cemeteries every day, visiting the parish priests and the village + notaries, supping at the public inns with peddlers and cattle-dealers, + sleeping at night between sheets scented with lavender, I passed one whole + week in the quiet but profound enjoyment of observing the living engaged + in their various daily occupations even while I was thinking of the dead. + As for the purpose of my researches, I made only a few mediocre + discoveries, which caused me only a mediocre joy, and one therefore + salubrious and not at all fatiguing. I copied a few interesting epitaphs; + and I added to this little collection a few recipes for cooking country + dishes, which a certain good priest kindly gave me. + </p> + <p> + With these riches, I returned to Lusance; and I crossed the + court-of-honour with such secret satisfaction as a bourgeois fells on + entering his own home. This was the effect of the kindness of my hosts; + and the impression I received on crossing their threshold proves, better + than any reasoning could do, the excellence of their hospitality. + </p> + <p> + I entered the great parlour without meeting anybody; and the young + chestnut-tree there spreading out its broad leaves seemed to me like an + old friend. But the next thing which I saw—on the pier-table—caused + me such a shock of surprise that I readjusted my glasses upon my nose with + both hands at once, and then felt myself over so as to get at least some + superficial proof of my own existence. In less than one second there + thronged from my mind twenty different conjectures—the most rational + of which was that I had suddenly become crazy. It seemed to me absolutely + impossible that what I was looking at could exist; yet it was equally + impossible for me not to see it as a thing actually existing. What caused + my surprise was resting on the pier-table, above which rose a great dull + speckled mirror. + </p> + <p> + I saw myself in that mirror; and I can say that I saw for once in my life + the perfect image of stupefaction. But I made proper allowance for myself; + I approved myself for being so stupefied by a really stupefying thing. + </p> + <p> + The object I was thus examining with a degree of astonishment that all my + reasoning power failed to lessen, obtruded itself on my attention though + quite motionless. The persistence and fixity of the phenomenon excluded + any idea of hallucination. I am totally exempt from all nervous disorders + capable of influencing the sense of sight. The cause of such visual + disturbance is, I think, generally due to stomach trouble; and, thank God! + I have an excellent stomach. Moreover, visual illusions are accompanied + with special abnormal conditions which impress the victims of + hallucination themselves, and inspire them with a sort of terror. Now, I + felt nothing of this kind; the object which I saw, although seemingly + impossible in itself, appeared to me under all the natural conditions of + reality. I observed that it had three dimensions, and colours, and that it + cast a shadow. Ah! how I stared at it! The water came into my eyes so that + I had to wipe the glasses of my spectacles. + </p> + <p> + Finally I found myself obliged to yield to the evidence, and to affirm + that I had really before my eyes the Fairy, the very same Fairy I had been + dreaming of in the library a few evenings before. It was she, it was her + very self, I assure you! She had the same air of child-queen, the same + proud supple poise; she held the same hazel wand in her hand; she still + wore her double-peaked head-dress, and the train of her long brocade robe + undulated about her little feet. Same face, same figure. It was she + indeed; and to prevent any possible doubt of it, she was seated on the + back of a huge old-fashioned book strongly resembling the “Cosmography of + Munster.” Her immobility but half reassured me; I was really afraid that + she was going to take some more nuts out of her alms-purse and throw the + shells at my face. + </p> + <p> + I was standing there, waving my hands and gaping, when the musical and + laughing voice of Madame de Gabry suddenly rang in my ears. + </p> + <p> + “So you are examining your fairy, Monsieur Bonnard!” said my hostess. + “Well, do you think the resemblance good?” + </p> + <p> + It was very quickly said; but even while hearing it I had time to perceive + that my fairy was a statuette in coloured wax, modeled with much taste and + spirit by some novice hand. But the phenomenon, even thus reduced by a + rational explanation, did not cease to excite my surprise. How, and by + whom, had the Lady of the Cosmography been enabled to assume plastic + existence? That was what remained for me to learn. + </p> + <p> + Turning towards Madame de Gabry, I perceived that she was not alone. A + young girl dressed in black was standing beside her. She had large + intelligent eyes, of a grey as sweet as that of the sky of the Isle of + France, and at once artless and characteristic in their expression. At the + extremities of her rather thin arms were fidgeting uneasily two slender + hands, supple but slightly red, as it becomes the hands of young girls to + be. Sheathed in her closely fitting merino robe, she had the slim grace of + a young tree; and her large mouth bespoke frankness. I could not describe + how much the child pleased me at first sight! She was not beautiful; but + the three dimples of her cheeks and chin seemed to laugh, and her whole + person, which revealed the awkwardness of innocence, had something in it + indescribably good and sincere. + </p> + <p> + My gaze alternated from the statuette to the young girl; and I saw her + blush—so frankly and fully!—the crimson passing over her face + as by waves. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said my hostess, who had become sufficiently accustomed to my + distracted moods to put the same question to me twice, “is that the very + same lady who came in to see you through the window that you left open? + She was very saucy, but then you were quite imprudent! Anyhow, do you + recognise her?” + </p> + <p> + “It is her very self,” I replied; “I see her now on that pier-table + precisely as I saw her on the table in the library.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if that be so,” replied Madame de Gabry, “you have to blame for it, + in the first place, yourself, as a man who, although devoid of all + imagination, to use your own words, knew how to depict your dream in such + vivid colours; in the second place, me, who was able to remember and + repeat faithfully all your dream; and lastly, Mademoiselle Jeanne, whom I + now introduce to you, for she herself modeled that wax figure precisely + according to my instructions.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Gabry had taken the young girl’s hand as she spoke; but the + latter had suddenly broken away from her, and was already running through + the park with the speed of a bird. + </p> + <p> + “Little crazy creature!” Madame de Gabry cried after her. “How can one be + so shy? Come back here to be scolded and kissed!” + </p> + <p> + But it was all of no avail; the frightened child disappeared among the + shrubbery. Madame de Gabry seated herself in the only chair remaining in + the dilapidated parlour. + </p> + <p> + “I should be much surprised,” she said, “If my husband had not already + spoken to you of Jeanne. She is a sweet child, and we both lover her very + much. Tell me the plain truth; what do you think of her statuette?” + </p> + <p> + I replied that the work was full of good taste and spirit, but that it + showed some want of study and practice on the author’s part; otherwise I + had been extremely touched to think that those young fingers should have + thus embroidered an old man’s rough sketch of fancy, and given form so + brilliantly to the dreams of a dotard like myself. + </p> + <p> + “The reason I ask your opinion,” replied Madame de Gabry, seriously, “is + that Jeanne is a poor orphan. Do you think she could earn her living by + modelling statuettes like this one?” + </p> + <p> + “As for that, no!” I replied; “and I think there is no reason to regret + the fact. You say the girl is affectionate and sensitive; I can well + believe you; I could believe it from her face alone. There are excitements + in artist-life which impel generous hearts to act out of all rule and + measure. This young creature is made to love; keep her for the domestic + hearth. There only is real happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “But she has no dowry!” replied Madame de Gabry. + </p> + <p> + Then, extending her hand to me, she continued: + </p> + <p> + “You are our friend; I can tell you everything. The father of this child + was a banker, and one of our friends. He went into a colossal speculation, + and it ruined him. He survived only a few months after his failure, in + which, as Paul must have told you, three-fourths of my uncle’s fortune + were lost, and more than half of our own. + </p> + <p> + “We had made his acquaintance at Manaco, during the winter we passed there + at my uncle’s house. He had an adventurous disposition, but such an + engaging manner! He deceived himself before ever he deceived others. After + all, it is in the ability to deceive oneself that the greatest talent is + shown, is it not? Well, we were captured—my husband, my uncle, and + I; and we risked much more than a reasonable amount in a very hazardous + undertaking. But, bah! as Paul says, since we have no children we need not + worry about it. Besides, we have the satisfaction of knowing that the + friend in whom we trusted was an honest man.... You must know his name, it + was so often in the papers an on public placards—Noel Alexandre. His + wife was a very sweet person. I knew her only when she was already past + her prime, with traces of having once been very pretty, and a taste for + fashionable style and display which seemed quite becoming to her. She was + naturally fond of social excitement; but she showed a great deal of + courage and dignity after the death of her husband. She died a year after + him, leaving Jeanne alone in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Clementine!” I cried out. + </p> + <p> + And on thus learning what I had never imagined—the mere idea of + which would have set all the forces of my soul in revolt—upon + hearing that Clementine was no longer in this world, something like a + great silence came upon me; and the feeling which flooded my whole being + was not a keen, strong pain, but a quiet and solemn sorrow. Yet I was + conscious of some incomprehensible sense of alleviation, and my thought + rose suddenly to heights before unknown. + </p> + <p> + “From wheresoever thou art at this moment, Clementine,” I said to myself, + “look down upon this old heart now indeed cooled by age, yet whose blood + once boiled for thy sake, and say whether it is not reanimated by the mere + thought of being able to love all that remains of thee on earth. + Everything passes away since thou thyself hast passed away; but Life is + immortal; it is that Life we must love in its forms eternally renewed. All + the rest is child’s play; and I myself, with all my books, am only like a + child playing with marbles. The purpose of life—it is thou, + Clementine, who has revealed it to me!”... + </p> + <p> + Madame de Gabry aroused me from my thoughts by murmuring, + </p> + <p> + “The child is poor.” + </p> + <p> + “The daughter of Clementine is poor!” I exclaimed aloud; “how fortunate + that is so! I would not whish that any one by myself should proved for her + and dower her! No! the daughter of Clementine must not have her dowry from + any one but me.” + </p> + <p> + And, approaching Madame de Gabry as she rose from her chair, I took her + right hand; I kissed that hand, and placed it on my arm, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You will conduct me to the grave of the widow of Noel Alexandre.” + </p> + <p> + And I heard Madame de Gabry asking me: + </p> + <p> + “Why are you crying?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV—The Little Saint-George + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 16. + </h2> + <p> + Saint Drocoveus and the early abbots of Saint-Germain-des-Pres have been + occupying me for the past forty years; but I do not know if I shall be + able to write their history before I go to join them. It is already quite + a long time since I became an old man. One day last year, on the Pont des + Arts, one of my fellow members at the Institute was lamenting before me + over the ennui of becoming old. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” Saint-Beuve replied to him, “it is the only way that has yet been + found of living a long time.” + </p> + <p> + I have tried this way, and I know just what it is worth. The trouble of it + is not that one lasts too long, but that one sees all about him pass away—mother, + wife, friends, children. Nature makes and unmakes all these divine + treasures with gloomy indifference, and at last we find that we have not + loved, we have only been embracing shadows. But how sweet some shadows + are! If ever creature glided like a shadow through the life of a man, it + was certainly that young girl whom I fell in love with when—incredible + though it now seems—I was myself a youth. + </p> + <p> + A Christian sarcophagus from the catacombs of Rome bears a formula of + imprecation, the whole terrible meaning of which I only learned with time. + It says: “Whatsoever impious man violates this sepulchre, may he die the + last of his own people!” In my capacity of archaeologist, I have opened + tombs and disturbed ashes in order to collect the shreds of apparel, metal + ornaments, or gems that were mingled with those ashes. But I did it only + through that scientific curiosity which does not exclude feelings of + reverence and of piety. May that malediction graven by some one of the + first followers of the apostles upon a martyr’s tomb never fall upon me! I + ought not to fear to survive my own people so long as there are men in the + world; for there are always some whom one can love. + </p> + <p> + But the power of love itself weakens and gradually becomes lost with age, + like all the other energies of man. Example proves it; and it is this + which terrifies me. Am I sure that I have not myself already suffered this + great loss? I should surely have felt it, but for the happy meeting which + has rejuvenated me. Poets speak of the Fountain of Youth; it does exist; + it gushes up from the earth at every step we take. And one passes by + without drinking of it! + </p> + <p> + The young girl I loved, married of her own choice to a rival, passed, all + grey-haired, into the eternal rest. I have found her daughter—so + that my life, which before seemed to me without utility, now once more + finds a purpose and a reason for being. + </p> + <p> + To-day I “take the sun,” as they say in Provence; I take it on the terrace + of the Luxembourg, at the foot of the statue of Marguerite de Navarre. It + is a spring sun, intoxicating as young wine. I sit and dream. My thoughts + escape from my head like the foam from a bottle of beer. They are light, + and their fizzing amuses me. I dream; such a pastime is certainly + permissible to an old fellow who has published thirty volumes of texts, + and contributed to the ‘Journal des Savants’ for twenty-six years. I have + the satisfaction of feeling that I performed my task as well as it was + possible for me to do, and that I utilised to their fullest extent those + mediocre faculties with which Nature endowed me. My efforts were not all + in vain, and I have contributed, in my own modest way, to that renaissance + of historical labours which will remain the honour of this restless + century. I shall certainly be counted among those ten or twelve who + revealed to France her own literary antiquities. My publication of the + poetical works of Gautier de Coincy inaugurated a judicious system and + fixed a date. It is in the austere calm of old age that I decree to myself + this deserved credit, and God, who sees my heart, knows whether pride or + vanity have aught to do with this self-award of justice. + </p> + <p> + But I am tired; my eyes are dim; my hand trembles, and I see an image of + myself in those old me of Homer, whose weakness excluded them from the + battle, and who, seated upon the ramparts, lifted up their voices like + crickets among the leaves. + </p> + <p> + So my thoughts were wandering when three young men seated themselves near + me. I do not know whether each one of them had come in three boats, like + the monkey of Lafontaine, but the three certainly displayed themselves + over the space of twelve chairs. I took pleasure in watching them, not + because they had anything very extraordinary about them, but because I + discerned in them that brave joyous manner which is natural to youth. They + were from the schools. I was less assured of it by the books they were + carrying than by the character of their physiognomy. For all who busy + themselves with the things of the mind can be at once recognised by an + indescribably something which is common to all of them. I am very fond of + young people; and these pleased me, in spite of a certain provoking wild + manner which recalled to me my own college days with marvellous vividness. + But they did not wear velvet doublets and long hair, as we used to do; + they did not walk about, as we used to do, “Hell and malediction!” They + were quite properly dressed, and neither their costume nor their language + had anything suggestive of the Middle Ages. I must also add that they paid + considerable attention to the women passing on the terrace, and expressed + their admiration of some of them in very animated language. But their + reflections, even on this subject, were not of a character to oblige me to + flee from my seat. Besides, so long as youth is studious, I think it has a + right to its gaieties. + </p> + <p> + One of them, having made some gallant pleasantry which I forget, the + smallest and darkest of the three exclaimed, with a slight Gascon accent, + </p> + <p> + “What a thing to say! Only physiologists like us have any right to occupy + ourselves about living matter. As for you, Gelis, who only live in the + past—like all your fellow archivists and paleographers—you + will do better to confine yourself to those stone women over there, who + are your contemporaries.” + </p> + <p> + And he pointed to the statues of the Ladies of Ancient France which + towered up, all white, in a half-circle under the trees of the terrace. + This joke, though in itself trifling, enabled me to know that the young + man called Gelis was a student at the Ecole des Chartes. From the + conversation which followed I was able to learn that his neighbor, blond + and wan almost to diaphaneity, taciturn and sarcastic was Boulmier, a + fellow student. Gelis and the future doctor (I hope he will become one + some day) discoursed together with much fantasy and spirit. In the midst + of the loftiest speculations they would play upon words, and make jokes + after the peculiar fashion of really witty persons—that is to say, + in a style of enormous absurdity. I need hardly say, I suppose, that they + only deigned to maintain the most monstrous kind of paradoxes. They + employed all their powers of imagination to make themselves as ludicrous + as possible, and all their powers of reasoning to assert the contrary of + common sense. All the better for them! I do not like to see young folks + too rational. + </p> + <p> + The student of medicine, after glancing at the title of the book that + Boulmier held in his hand, exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “What!—you read Michelet—you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Boulmier, very gravely. “I like novels.” + </p> + <p> + Gelis, who dominated both by his fine stature, imperious gestures, and + ready wit, took the book, turned over a few pages rapidly, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Michelet always had a great propensity to emotional tenderness. He wept + sweet tears over Maillard, that nice little man introduced la paperasserie + into the September massacres. But as emotional tenderness leads to fury, + he becomes all at once furious against the victims. There was no help for + it. It is the sentimentality of the age. The assassin is pitied, but the + victim is considered quite unpardonable. In his later manner Michelet is + more Michelet than ever before. There is no common sense in it; it is + simply wonderful! Neither art nor science, neither criticism nor + narrative; only furies and fainting-spells and epileptic fits over matters + which he never deigns to explain. Childish outcries—envies de femme + grosse!—and a style, my friends!—not a single finished phrase! + It is astounding!” + </p> + <p> + And he handed the book back to his comrade. “This is amusing madness,” I + thought to myself, “and not quite so devoid of common sense as it appears. + This young man, though only playing has sharply touched the defect in the + cuirass.” + </p> + <p> + But the Provencal student declared that history was a thoroughly + despicable exercise of rhetoric. According to him, the only true history + was the natural history of man. Michelet was in the right path when he + came in contact with the fistula of Louis XIV., but he fell back into the + old rut almost immediately afterwards. + </p> + <p> + After this judicious expression of opinion, the young physiologist went to + join a party of passing friends. The two archivists, less well acquainted + in the neighbourhood of a garden so far from the Rue Paradis-au-Marais, + remained together, and began to chat about their studies. Gelis, who had + completed his third class-year, was preparing a thesis on the subject of + which he expatiated with youthful enthusiasm. Indeed, I thought the + subject a very good one, particularly because I had recently thought + myself called upon to treat a notable part of it. It was the Monasticon + Gallicanum. The young erudite (I give him the name as a presage) wanted to + describe all the engravings made about 1690 for the work which Dom Michel + Germain would have had printed but for the one irremediable hindrance + which is rarely foreseen and never avoided. Dom Michel Germain would have + had printed but for the one irremediable hindrance which is rarely + foreseen and never avoided. Dom Michel Germain left his manuscript + complete, however, and in good order when he died. Shall I be able to do + as much with mine?—but that is not the present question. So far as I + am able to understand, Monsieur Gelis intends to devote a brief + archaeological notice to each of the abbeys pictured by the humble + engravers of Dom Michel Germain. + </p> + <p> + His friend asked him whether he was acquainted with all the manuscripts + and printed documents relating to the subject. It was then that I pricked + up my ears. They spoke at first of original sources; and I must confess + they did so in a satisfactory manner, despite their innumerable and + detestable puns. Then they began to speak about contemporary studies on + the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Have you read,” asked Boulmier, “the notice of Courajod?” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Gelis; “it is accurate.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you read,” said Boulmier, “the article of Tamisey de Larroque in the + ‘Revue des Questions Historiques’?” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” I thought to myself, for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Gelis, “it is full of things.”... + </p> + <p> + “Have you read,” said Boulmier, “the ‘Tableau des Abbayes Benedictines en + 1600,’ by Sylvestre Bonnard?” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” I said to myself, for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “Mai foi! no!” replied Gelis. “Bonnard is an idiot!” Turning my head, I + perceived that the shadow had reached the place where I was sitting. It + was growing chilly, and I thought to myself what a fool I was to have + remained sitting there, at the risk of getting rheumatism, just to listen + to the impertinence of those two young fellows! + </p> + <p> + “Well! well!” I said to myself as I got up. “Let this prattling fledgling + write his thesis and sustain it! He will find my colleague, Quicherat, or + some other professor at the school, to show him what an ignoramus he is. I + consider him neither more nor less than a rascal; and really, now that I + come to think of it, what he said about Michelet awhile ago was quite + insufferable, outrageous! To talk in that way about an old master replete + with genius! It was simply abominable!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April 17. + </h2> + <p> + “Therese, give me my new hat, my best frock-coat, and my silver-headed + cane.” + </p> + <p> + But Therese is deaf as a sack of charcoal and slow as Justice. Years have + made her so. The worst is that she thinks she can hear well and move about + well; and, proud of her sixty years of upright domesticity, she serves her + old master with the most vigilant despotism. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?”...And now she will not give me my silver-headed + cane, for fear that I might lose it! It is true that I often forget + umbrellas and walking-sticks in the omnibuses and booksellers’ shops. But + I have a special reason for wanting to take out with me to-day my old cane + with the engraved silver head representing Don Quixote charging a + windmill, lance in rest, while Sancho Panza, with uplifted arms, vainly + conjures him to a stop. That cane is all that came to me from the heritage + of my uncle, Captain Victor, who in his lifetime resembled Don Quixote + much more than Sancho Panza, and who loved blows quite as much as most + people fear them. + </p> + <p> + For thirty years I have been in the habit of carrying this cane upon all + memorable or solemn visits which I make; and those two figures of knight + and squire give me inspiration and counsel. I imagine I can hear them + speak. Don Quixote says, + </p> + <p> + “Think well about great things; and know that thought is the only reality + in this world. Lift up Nature to thine own stature; and let the whole + universe be for thee no more than the reflection of thine own heroic soul. + Combat for honour’s sake: that alone is worthy of a man! and if it should + fall thee to receive wounds, shed thy blood as a beneficent dew, and + smile.” + </p> + <p> + And Sancho Panza says to me in his turn, + </p> + <p> + “Remain just what heaven made thee, comrade! Prefer the bread-crust which + has become dry in thy wallet to all the partridges that roast in the + kitchen of lords. Obey thy master, whether he by a wise man or a fool, and + do not cumber thy brain with too many useless things. Fear blows; ‘tis + verily tempting God to seek after danger!” + </p> + <p> + But if the incomparable knight and his matchless squire are imagined only + upon this cane of mine, they are realities to my inner conscience. Within + every one of us there lives both a Don Quixote and a Sancho Panza to whom + we hearken by turns; and though Sancho most persuades us, it is Don + Quixote that we find ourselves obliged to admire.... But a truce to this + dotage!—and let us go to see Madame de Gabry about some matters more + important than the everyday details of life.... + </p> + <p> + Same day. + </p> + <p> + I found Madame de Gabry dressed in black, just buttoning her gloves. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Ready!—so I have always found her upon any occasion of doing a + kindness. + </p> + <p> + After some compliments about the good health of her husband, who was + taking a walk at the time, we descended the stairs and got into the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + I do not know what secret influence I feared to dissipate by breaking + silence, but we followed the great deserted drives without speaking, + looking at the crosses, the monumental columns, and the mortuary wreaths + awaiting sad purchasers. + </p> + <p> + The vehicle at last halted at the extreme verge of the land of the living, + before the gate upon which words of hope are graven. + </p> + <p> + “Follow me,” said Madame de Gabry, whose tall stature I noticed then for + the first time. She first walked down an alley of cypresses, and then took + a very narrow path contrived between the tombs. Finally, halting before a + plain slab, she said to me, + </p> + <p> + “It is here.” + </p> + <p> + And she knelt down. I could not help noticing the beautiful and easy + manner in which this Christian woman fell upon her knees, leaving the + folds of her robe to spread themselves at random about her. I had never + before seen any lady kneel down with such frankness and such forgetfulness + of self, except two fair Polish exiles, one evening long ago, in a + deserted church in Paris. + </p> + <p> + This image passed like a flash; and I saw only the sloping stone on which + was graven the name of Clementine. What I then felt was something so deep + and vague that only the sound of some rich music could convey the idea of + it. I seemed to hear instruments of celestial sweetness make harmony in my + old heart. With the solemn accords of a funeral chant there seemed to + mingle the subdued melody of a song of love; for my soul blended into one + feeling the grave sadness of the present with the familiar graces of the + past. + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell whether we had remained a long time at the tomb of + Clementine before Madame de Gabry arose. We passed through the cemetery + again without speaking to each other. Only when we found ourselves among + the living once more did I feel able to speak. + </p> + <p> + “While following you there,” I said to Madame de Gabry, “I could not help + thinking of those angels with whom we are said to meet on the mysterious + confines of life and death. That tomb you led me to, of which I knew + nothing—as I know nothing, or scarcely anything, concerning her whom + it covers—brought back to me emotions which were unique in my life, + and which seem in the dullness of that life like some light gleaming upon + a dark road. The light recedes farther and farther away as the journey + lengthens; I have now almost reached the bottom of the last slope; and, + nevertheless, each time I turn to look back I see the glow as bright as + ever. + </p> + <p> + “You, Madame, who knew Clementine as a young wife and mother after her + hair had become grey, you cannot imagine her as I see her still; a young + fair girl, all pink and white. Since you have been so kind as to be my + guide, dear Madame, I ought to tell you what feelings were awakened in me + by the sight of that grave to which you led me. Memories throng back upon + me. I feel myself like some old gnarled and mossy oak which awakens a + nestling world of birds by shaking its branches. Unfortunately the song my + birds sing is old as the world, and can amuse no one but myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me your souvenirs,” said Madame de Gabry. “I cannot read your books, + because they are written only for scholars; but I like very much to have + you talk to me, because you know how to give interest to the most ordinary + things in life. And talk to me just as you would talk to an old woman. + This morning I found three grey threads in my hair.” + </p> + <p> + “Let them come without regret, Madame,” I replied. “Time deals gently only + with those who take it gently. And when in some years more you will have a + silvery fringe under your black fillet, you will be reclothed with a new + beauty, less vivid but more touching than the first; and you will find + your husband admiring your grey tresses as much as he did that black curl + which you gave him when about to be married, and which he preserves in a + locket as a thing sacred.... These boulevards are broad and very quiet. We + can talk at our ease as we walk along. I will tell you, to begin with, how + I first made the acquaintance of Clementine’s father. But you must not + expect anything extraordinary, or anything even remarkable; you would be + greatly deceived. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lessay used to live in the second storey of an old house in + the Avenue de l’Observatoire, having a stuccoed front, ornamented with + antique busts, and a large unkept garden attached to it. That facade and + that garden were the first images my child-eyes perceived; and they will + be the last, no doubt, which I still see through my closed eyelids when + the Inevitable Day comes. For it was in that house that I was born; it was + in that garden I first learned, while playing, to feel and know some + particles of this old universe. Magical hours!—sacred hours!—when + the soul, all fresh from the making, first discoveries the world, which + for its sake seems to assume such caressing brightness, such mysterious + charm! And that, Madame, is indeed because the universe itself is only the + reflection of our soul. + </p> + <p> + “My mother was being very happily constituted. She rose with the sun, like + the birds; and she herself resembled the birds by her domestic industry, + by her maternal instinct, by her perpetual desire to sing, and by a sort + of brusque grace, which I could feel the of very well even as a child. She + was the soul of the house, which she filled with her systematic and joyous + activity. My father was just as slow as she was brisk. I can recall very + well that placid face of his, over which at times an ironical smile used + to flit. He was fatigued with active life; and he loved his fatigue. + Seated beside the fire in his big arm-chair, he used to read from morning + till night; and it is from him that I inherit my love of books. I have in + my library a Mably and a Raynal, which he annotated with his own hand from + beginning to end. But it was utterly useless attempting to interest him in + anything practical whatever. When my mother would try, by all kinds of + gracious little ruses, to lure him out of his retirement, he would simply + shake his head with that inexorable gentleness which is the force of weak + characters. He used in this way greatly to worry the poor woman, who could + not enter at all into his own sphere of meditative wisdom, and could + understand nothing of life except its daily duties and the merry labour of + each hour. She thought him sick, and feared he was going to become still + more so. But his apathy had a different cause. + </p> + <p> + “My father, entering the Naval office under Monsieur Decres, in 1801, gave + early proof of high administrative talent. There was a great deal of + activity in the marine department in those times; and in 1805 my father + was appointed chief of the Second Administrative Division. That same year, + the Emperor, whose attention had been called to him by the Minister, + ordered him to make a report upon the organisation of the English navy. + This work, which reflected a profoundly liberal and philosophic spirit, of + which the editor himself was unconscious, was only finished in 1807—about + eighteen months after the defeat of Admiral Villeneuve at Trafalgar. + Napoleon, who, from that disastrous day, never wanted to hear the word + ship mentioned in his presence, angrily glanced over a few pages of the + memoir, and then threw it in the fire, vociferating, ‘Words!—words! + I said once before that I hated ideologists.’ My father was told + afterwards that the Emperor’s anger was so intense at the moment that he + stamped the manuscript down into the fire with his boot-heels. At all + events, it was his habit, when very much irritated, to poke down the fire + with his boot-soles. My father never fully recovered from this disgrace; + and the fruitlessness of all his efforts towards reform was certainly the + cause of the apathy which came upon him at a later day. Nevertheless, + Napoleon, after his return from Elba, sent for him, and ordered him to + prepare some liberal and patriotic bulletins and proclamations for the + fleet. After Waterloo, my father, whom the event had rather saddened than + surprised, retired into private life, and was not interfered with—except + that it was generally averred of him that he was a Jacobin, a + buveur-de-sang—one of those men with whom no one could afford to be + on intimate terms. My mother’s eldest brother, Victor Maldent, and + infantry captain—retired on half-pay in 1814, and disbanded in 1815—aggravated + by his bad attitude the situation in which the fall of the Empire had + placed my father. Captain Victor used to shout in the cafes and the public + balls that the Bourbons had sold France to the Cossacks. He used to show + everybody a tricoloured cockade hidden in the lining of his hat; and + carried with much ostentation a walking-stick, the handle of which had + been so carved that the shadow thrown by it made the silhouette of the + Emperor. + </p> + <p> + “Unless you have seen certain lithographs by Charlet, Madame, you could + form no idea of the physiognomy of my Uncle Victor, when he used to stride + about the garden of the Tuileries with a fiercely elegant manner of his + own—buttoned up in his frogged coat, with his cross-of-honour upon + his breast, and a bouquet of violets in his button-hole. + </p> + <p> + “Idleness and intemperance greatly intensified the vulgar recklessness of + his political passions. He used to insult people whom he happened to see + reading the ‘Quotidienne,’ or the ‘Drapeau Blanc,’ and compel them to + fight with him. In this way he had the pain and the shame of wounding a + boy of sixteen in a duel. In short, my Uncle Victor was the very reverse + of a well-behaved person; and as he came to lunch and dine at our house + every blessed day in the year, his bad reputation became attached to our + family. My poor father suffered cruelly from some of his guest’s pranks; + but being very good-natured, he never made any remarks, and continued to + give the freedom of his house to the captain, who only despised him for + it. + </p> + <p> + “All this which I have told you, Madame, was explained to me afterwards. + But at the time in question, my uncle the captain filled me with the very + enthusiasm of admiration, and I promised myself to try to become some day + as like him as possible. So one fine morning, in order to begin the + likeness, I put my arms akimbo, and swore like a trooper. My excellent + mother at once gave me such a box on the ear that I remained half + stupefied for some little while before I could even burst out crying. I + can still see the old arm-chair, covered with yellow Utrecht velvet, + behind which I wept innumerable tears that day. + </p> + <p> + “I was a very little fellow then. One morning my father, lifting me upon + his knees, as he was in the habit of doing, smiled at me with that + slightly ironical smile which gave a certain piquancy to his perpetual + gentleness of manner. As I sat on his knee, playing with his long white + hair, he told me something which I did not understand very well, but which + interested me very much, for the simple reason that it was mysterious to + me. I think but am not quite sure, that he related to me that morning the + story of the little King of Yvetot, according to the song. All of a sudden + we heard a great report; and the windows rattled. My father slipped me + down gently on the floor at his feet; he threw up his trembling arms, with + a strange gesture; his face became all inert and white, and his eyes + seemed enormous. He tried to speak, but his teeth were chattering. At last + he murmured, ‘They have shot him!’ I did not know what he meant, and felt + only a vague terror. I knew afterwards, however, that hew was speaking of + Marshal Ney, who fell on the 7th of December, 1815, under the wall + enclosing some waste ground beside our house. + </p> + <p> + “About that time I used often to meet on the stairway an old man (or, + perhaps, not exactly an old man) with little black eyes which flashed with + extraordinary vivacity, and an impassive, swarthy face. He did not seem to + me alive—or at least he did not seem to me alive in the same way + that other men are alive. I had once seen, at the residence of Monsieur + Denon, where my father had taken me with him on a visit, a mummy brought + from Egypt; and I believed in good faith that Monsieur Denon’s mummy used + to get up when no one was looking, leave its gilded case, put on a brown + coat and powdered wig, and become transformed into Monsieur de Lessay. And + even to-day, dear Madame, while I reject that opinion as being without + foundation, I must confess that Monsieur de Lessay bore a very strong + resemblance to Monsieur Denon’s mummy. The fact is enough to explain why + this person inspired me with fantastic terror. + </p> + <p> + “In reality, Monsieur de Lessay was a small gentleman and a great + philosopher. As a disciple of Mably and Rousseau, he flattered himself on + being a man without any prejudices; and this pretension itself is a very + great prejudice. + </p> + <p> + “He professed to hate fanaticism, yet was himself a fanatic on the topic + of toleration. I am telling you, Madame, about a character belonging to an + age that is past. I fear I may not be able to make you understand, and I + am sure I shall not be able to interest you. It was so long ago! But I + will abridge as much as possible: besides, I did not promise you anything + interesting; and you could not have expected to hear of remarkable + adventures in the life of Sylvestre Bonnard.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Gabry encouraged me to proceed, and I resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lessay was brusque with men and courteous to ladies. He used + to kiss the hand of my mother, whom the customs of the Republic and the + Empire had not habituated to such gallantry. In him, I touched the age of + Louis XVI. Monsieur de Lessay was a geographer; and nobody, I believe, + ever showed more pride then he in occupying himself with the face of the + earth. Under the Old Regime he had attempted philosophical agriculture, + and thus squandered his estates to the very last acre. When he had ceased + to own one square foot of ground, he took possession of the whole globe, + and prepared an extraordinary number of maps, based upon the narratives of + travellers. But as he had been mentally nourished with the very marrow of + the “Encyclopedie,” he was not satisfied with merely parking off human + beings within so many degrees, minutes, and seconds of latitude and + longitude, he also occupied himself, alas! with the question of their + happiness. It is worthy of remark, Madame, that those who have given + themselves the most concern about the happiness of peoples have made their + neighbors very miserable. Monsieur de Lessay, who was more of a + geometrician than D’Alembert, and more of a philosopher than Jean Jacques, + was also more of a royalist than Louis XVIII. But his love for the King + was nothing to his hate for the Emperor. He had joined the conspiracy of + Georges against the First Consul; but in the framing of the indictment he + was not included among the inculpated parties, having been either ignored + or despised, and this injury he never could forgive Bonaparte, whom he + called the Ogre of Corsica, and to whom he used to say he would never have + confided even the command of a regiment, so pitiful a soldier he judged + him to be. + </p> + <p> + “In 1820, Monsieur de Lessay, who had then been a widower for many years, + married again, at the age of sixty, a very young woman, whom he pitilessly + kept at work preparing maps for him, and who gave him a daughter some + years after their marriage, and died in childbed. My mother had nursed her + during her brief illness, and had taken care of the child. The name of + that child was Clementine. + </p> + <p> + “It was from the time of that birth and that death that the relations + between our family and Monsieur de Lessay began. In the meanwhile I had + been growing dull as I began to leave my true childhood behind me. I had + lost the charming power of being able to see and feel; and things no + longer caused me those delicious surprises which form the enchantment of + the more tender age. For the same reason, perhaps, I have no distinct + remembrance of the period following the birth of Clementine; I only know + that a few months afterwards I had a misfortune, the mere thought of which + still wrings my heart. I lost my mother. A great silence, a great + coldness, and a great darkness seemed all at once to fill the house. + </p> + <p> + “I fell into a sort of torpor. My father sent me to the lycee, but I could + only arouse myself from my lethargy with the greatest of effort. + </p> + <p> + “Still, I was not altogether a dullard, and my professors were able to + teach me almost everything they wanted, namely, a little Greek and a great + deal of Latin. My acquaintances were confined to the ancients. I learned + to esteem Miltiades, and to admire Themistocles. I became familiar with + Quintus Fabius, as far, at least, as it was possible to become familiar + with so great a Consul. Proud of these lofty acquaintances, I scarcely + ever condescended to notice little Clementine and her old father, who, in + any event, went away to Normandy one fine morning without my having + deigned to give a moment’s thought to their possible return. + </p> + <p> + “They came back, however, Madame, they came back! Influences of Heaven, + forces of nature, all ye mysterious powers which vouchsafe to man the + ability to love, you know how I again beheld Clementine! They re-entered + our melancholy home. Monsieur de Lessay no longer wore a wig. Bald, with a + few grey locks about his ruddy temples, he had all the aspect of robust + old age. But that divine being whom I saw all resplendent, as she leaned + upon his arm—she whose presence illuminated the old faded parlour—she + was not an apparition! It was Clementine herself! I am speaking the simple + truth: her violet eyes seemed to me in that moment supernatural, and even + to-day I cannot imagine how those two living jewels could have endured the + fatigues of life, or become subjected to the corruption of death. + </p> + <p> + “She betrayed a little shyness in greeting my father, whom she did not + remember. Her complexion was slightly pink, and her half-open lips smiled + with that smile which makes one think of the Infinite—perhaps + because it betrays no particular thought, and expresses only the joy of + living and the bliss of being beautiful. Under a pink hood her face shone + like a gem in an open casket; she wore a cashmere scarf over a robe of + white muslin plaited at the waist, from beneath which protruded the tip of + a little Morocco shoe.... Oh! you must not make fun of me, dear Madame, + that was the fashion of the time; and I do not know whether our new + fashions have nearly so much simplicity, brightness, and decorous grace. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lessay informed us that, in consequence of having undertaken + the publication of a historical atlas, he had come back to live in Paris, + and that he would be pleased to occupy his former apartment, if it was + still vacant. My father asked Mademoiselle de Lessay whether she was + pleased to visit the capital. She appeared to be, for her smile blossomed + out in reply. She smiled at the windows that looked out upon the green and + luminous garden; she smiled at the bronze Marius seated among the ruins of + Carthage above the dial of the clock; she smiled a the old yellow-velveted + arm-chairs, and at the poor student who was afraid to lift his eyes to + look at her. From that day—how I loved her! + </p> + <p> + “But here we are already a the Rue de Severs, and in a little while we + shall be in sight of your windows. I am a very bad story-teller; and if I + were—by some impossible chance—to take it into my head to + compose a novel, I know I should never succeed. I have been drawing out to + tiresome length a narrative which I must finish briefly; for there is a + certain delicacy, a certain grace of soul, which an old man could not help + offending by an complacent expatiation upon the sentiments of even the + purest love. Let us take a short turn on this boulevard, lined with + convents; and my recital will be easily finished within the distance + separating us from that little spire you see over there.... + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lessay, on finding that I had graduated at the Ecole des + Chartes, judged me worthy to assist him in preparing his historical atlas. + The plan was to illustrate, by a series of maps, what the old philosopher + termed the Vicissitudes of Empires from the time of Noah down to that of + Charlemagne. Monsieur de Lessay had stored up in his head all the errors + of the eighteenth century in regard to antiquity. I belonged, so far as my + historical studies were concerned, to the new school; and I was just at + that age when one does not know how to dissemble. The manner in which the + old man understood, or, rather, misunderstood, the epoch of the Barbarians—his + obstinate determination to find in remote antiquity only ambitious + princes, hypocritical and avaricious prelates, virtuous citizens, + poet-philosophers, and other personages who never existed outside of the + novels of Marmontel,—made me dreadfully unhappy, and at first used + to excite me into attempts at argument,—rational enough, but + perfectly useless and sometimes dangerous, for Monsieur de Lessay was very + irascible, and Clementine was very beautiful. Between her and him I passed + many hours of torment and of delight. I was in love; I was a coward, and I + granted to him all that he demanded of me in regard to the political and + historical aspect which the Earth—that was at a later day to bear + Clementine—presented in the time of Abraham, of Menes, and of + Deucalion. + </p> + <p> + “As fast as we drew our maps, Mademoiselle de Lessay tinted them in + water-colours. Bending over the table, she held the brush lightly between + two fingers; the shadow of her eyelashes descended upon her cheeks, and + bather her half-closed eyes in a delicious penumbra. Sometimes she would + lift her head, and I would see her lips pout. There was so much expression + in her beauty that she could not breathe without seeming to sigh; and her + most ordinary poses used to throw me into the deepest ecstasies of + admiration. Whenever I gazed at her I fully agreed with Monsieur de Lessay + that Jupiter had once reigned as a despot-king over the mountainous + regions of Thessaly, and that Orpheus had committed the imprudence of + leaving the teaching of philosophy to the clergy. I am not now quite sure + whether I was a coward or a hero when I accorded al this to the obstinate + old man. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle de Lessay, I must acknowledge, paid very little attention to + me. But this indifference seemed to me so just and so natural that I never + even dreamed of thinking I had a right to complain about it; it made me + unhappy, but without my knowing that I was unhappy at the time. I was + hopeful;—we had then only got as far as the First Assyrian Empire. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lessay came every evening to take coffee with my father. I do + not know how they became such friends; for it would have been difficult to + find two characters more oppositely constituted. My father was a man who + admired very few things, but was still capable of excusing a great many. + Still, as he grew older, he evinced more and more dislike of everything in + the shape of exaggeration. He clothed his ideas with a thousand delicate + shades of expression, and never pronounced an opinion without all sorts of + reservations. These conversational habits, natural to a finely trained + mind, used greatly to irritate the dry, terse old aristocrat, who was + never in the least disarmed by the moderation of an adversary—quite + the contrary! I always foresaw one danger. That danger was Bonaparte. My + father had not himself retained an particular affection for his memory; + but, having worked under his direction, he did not like to hear him + abused, especially in favour of the Bourbons, against whom he had serious + reason to feel resentment. Monsieur de Lessay, more of a Voltairean and a + Legitimist than ever, now traced back to Bonaparte the origin of every + social, political, and religious evil. Such being the situation, the idea + of Uncle Victor made me feel particularly uneasy. This terrible uncle had + become absolutely unsufferable now that his sister was no longer there to + calm him down. The harp of David was broken, and Saul was wholly delivered + over to the spirit of madness. The fall of Charles X. had increased the + audacity of the old Napoleonic veteran, who uttered all imaginable + bravadoes. He no longer frequented our house, which had become too silent + for him. But sometimes, at the dinner-hour, we would see him suddenly make + his appearance, all covered with flowers, like a mausoleum. Ordinarily he + would sit down to table with an oath, growled out from the very bottom of + his chest, and brag, between every two mouthfuls, of his good fortune with + the ladies as a vieux brave. Then, when the dinner was over, he would fold + up his napkin in the shape of a bishop’s mitre, gulp down half a decanter + of brandy, and rush away with the hurried air of a man terrified at the + mere idea of remaining for any length of time, without drinking, in + conversation with an old philosopher and a young scholar. I felt perfectly + sure that, if ever he and Monsieur de Lessay should come together, all + would be lost. But that day came, Madame! + </p> + <p> + “The captain was almost hidden by flowers that day, and seemed so much + like a monument commemorating the glories of the Empire that one would + have liked to pass a garland of immortelles over each of his arms. He was + in an extraordinarily good humour; and the first person to profit by that + good humour was our cook—for he put his arm around her waist while + she was placing the roast on the table. + </p> + <p> + “After dinner he pushed away the decanter presented to him, observing that + he was going to burn some brandy in his coffee later on. I asked him + tremblingly whether he would not prefer to have his coffee at once. He was + very suspicious, and not at all dull of comprehension—my Uncle + Victor. My precipitation seemed to him in very bad taste; for he looked at + me in a peculiar way, and said, + </p> + <p> + “‘Patience! my nephew. It isn’t the business of the baby of the regiment + to sound the retreat! Devil take it! You must be in a great hurry, Master + Pedant, to see if I’ve got spurs on my boots!’ + </p> + <p> + “It was evident the captain had divined that I wanted him to go. And I + knew him well enough to be sure that he was going to stay. He stayed. The + least circumstances of that evening remain impressed on my memory. My + uncle was extremely jovial. The mere idea of being in somebody’s way was + enough to keep him in good humour. He told us, in regular barrack style, + ma foi! a certain story about a monk, a trumpet, and five bottles of + Chambertin, which must have been much enjoyed in the garrison society, but + which I would not venture to repeat to you, Madame, even if I could + remember it. When we passed into the parlour, the captain called attention + to the bad condition of our andirons, and learnedly discoursed on the + merits of rotten-stone as a brass-polisher. Not a word on the subject of + politics. He was husbanding his forces. Eight o’clock sounded from the + ruins of Carthage on the mantlepiece. It was Monsieur de Lessay’s hour. A + few moments later he entered the parlour with his daughter. The ordinary + evening chat began. Clementine sat down and began to work on some + embroidery beside the lamp, whose shade left her pretty head in a soft + shadow, and threw down upon her fingers a radiance that made them seem + almost self-luminous. Monsieur de Lessay spoke of a comet announced by the + astronomers, and developed some theories in relation to the subject, + which, however audacious, betrayed at least a certain degree of + intellectual culture. My father, who knew a good deal about astronomy, + advanced some sound ideas of his own, which he ended up with his eternal, + ‘But what do we know about it, after all?’ In my turn I cited the opinion + of our neighbour of the Observatory—the great Arago. My Uncle Victor + declared that comets had a peculiar influence on the quality of wines, and + related in support of this view a jolly tavern-story. I was so delighted + with the turn the conversation had taken that I did all in my power to + maintain it in the same groove, with the help of my most recent studies, + by a long exposition of the chemical composition of those nebulous bodies + which, although extending over a length of billions of leagues, could be + contained in a small bottle. My father, a little surprised at my unusual + eloquence, watched me with his peculiar, placid, ironical smile. But one + cannot always remain in heaven. I spoke, as I looked at Clementine, of a + certain comete of diamonds, which I had been admiring in a jeweller’s + window the evening before. It was a most unfortunate inspiration of mine. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! my nephew,’ cried Uncle Victor, that “comete” of yours was nothing + to the one which the Empress Josephine wore in her hair when she came to + Strasburg to distribute crosses to the army.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That little Josephine was very fond of finery and display,’ observed + Monsieur de Lessay, between two sips of coffee. ‘I do not blame her for + it; she had good qualities, though rather frivolous in character. She was + a Tascher, and she conferred a great honour on Bonaparte by marrying him. + To say a Tascher does not, of course, mean a great deal; but to say a + Bonaparte simply means nothing at all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What do you mean by that, Monsieur the Marquis?’ demanded Captain + Victor. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am not a marquis,’ dryly responded Monsieur de Lessay; ‘and I mean + simply that Bonaparte would have been very well suited had he married one + of those cannibal women described by Captain Cook in his voyages—naked, + tattooed, with a ring in her nose—devouring with delight putrefied + human flesh.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had foreseen it, and in my anguish (O pitiful human heart!) my first + idea was about the remarkable exactness of my anticipations. I must say + that the captain’s reply belonged to the sublime order. He put his arms + akimbo, eyed Monsieur de Lessay contemptuously from head to food, and + said, + </p> + <p> + “‘Napoleon, Monsieur the Vidame, had another spouse besides Josephine, + another spouse besides Marie-Louise, that companion you know nothing of; + but I have seen her, close to me. She wears a mantle of azure gemmed with + stars; she is crowned with laurels; the Cross-of-Honour flames upon her + breast. Her name is GLORY!’ + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Lessay set his cup on the mantlepiece and quietly observed, + </p> + <p> + “‘Your Bonaparte was a blackguard!’ + </p> + <p> + “My father rose up calmly, extended his arm, and said very softly to + Monsieur de Lessay, + </p> + <p> + “Whatever the man was who died at St. Helena, I worked for ten years in + his government, and my brother-in-law was three times wounded under his + eagles. I beg of you, dear sir and friend, never to forget these facts in + future.’ + </p> + <p> + “What the sublime and burlesque insolence of the captain could not do, the + courteous remonstrance of my father effected immediately, throwing + Monsieur de Lessay into a furious passion. + </p> + <p> + “‘I did forget,’ he exclaimed, between his set teeth, livid in his rage, + and fairly foaming at the mouth; ‘the herring-cask always smells of + herring and when one has been in the service of rascals—-’ + </p> + <p> + “As he uttered the word, the Captain sprang at his throat; I am sure he + would have strangled him upon the spot but for his daughter and me. + </p> + <p> + “My father, a little paler than his wont, stood there with his arms + folded, and watched the scene with a look of inexpressible pity. What + followed was still more lamentable—but why dwell further upon the + folly of two old men. Finally I succeeded in separating them. Monsieur de + Lessay made a sign to his daughter and left the room. As she was following + him, I ran out into the stairway after her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mademoiselle,’ I said to her, wildly, taking her hand as I spoke, ‘I + love you! I love you!’ + </p> + <p> + “For a moment she pressed my hand; her lips opened. What was it that she + was going to say to me? But suddenly, lifting her eyes towards her father + ascending the stairs, she drew her hand away, and made me a gesture of + farewell. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw her again. Her father went to live in the neighbourhood of + the Pantheon, in an apartment which he had rented for the sale of his + historical atlas. He died in a few months afterward of an apoplectic + stroke. His daughter, I was told, retired to Caen to live with some aged + relative. It was there that, later on, she married a bank-clerk, the same + Noel Alexandre who became so rich and died so poor. + </p> + <p> + “As for me, Madame, I have lived alone, at peace with myself; my + existence, equally exempt from great pains and great joys, has been + tolerably happy. But for many years I could never see an empty chair + beside my own of a winter’s evening without feeling a sudden painful + sinking at my heart. Last year I learned from you, who had known her, the + story of her old age and death. I saw her daughter at your house. I have + seen her; but I cannot yet say like the aged mad of Scripture, ‘And now, O + Lord, let thy servant depart in peace!’ For if an old fellow like me can + be of any use to anybody, I would wish, with your help, to devote my last + energies and abilities to the care of this orphan.” + </p> + <p> + I had uttered these last words in Madame de Gabry’s own vestibule; and I + was about to take leave of my kind guide when she said to me, + </p> + <p> + “My dear Monsieur, I cannot help you in this matter as much as I would + like to do. Jeanne is an orphan and a minor. You cannot do anything for + her without the authorisation of her guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” I exclaimed, “I had not the least idea in the wold that Jeanne had a + guardian!” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Gabry looked at me with visible surprise. She had not expected + to find the old man quite so simple. + </p> + <p> + She resumed: + </p> + <p> + “The guardian of Jeanne Alexandre is Maitre Mouche, notary at + Levallois-Perret. I am afraid you will not be able to come to any + understanding with him; for he is a very serious person.” + </p> + <p> + “Why! good God!” I cried, “with what kind of people can you expect me to + have any sort of understanding at my age, except serious persons.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled with a sweet mischievousness—just as my father used to + smile—and answered: + </p> + <p> + “With those who are like you—the innocent folks who wear their + hearts on their sleeves. Monsieur Mouche is not exactly that kind. He is + cunning and light-fingered. But although I have very little liking for + him, we will go together and see him, if you wish, and ask his permission + to visit Jeanne, whom he has sent to a boarding-school at Les Ternes, + where she is very unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + We agreed at once upon a day; I kissed Madame de Gabry’s hands, and we + bade each other good-bye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + From May 2 to May 5. + </h2> + <p> + I have seen him in his office, Maitre Mouche, the guardian of Jeanne. + Small, thin, and dry; his complexion looks as if it was made out of the + dust of his pigeon-holes. He is a spectacled animal; for to imagine him + without his spectacles would be impossible. I have heard him speak, this + Maitre Mouche; he has a voice like a tin rattle, and he uses choice + phrases; but I should have been better pleased if he had not chosen his + phrases so carefully. I have observed him, this Maitre Mouche; he is very + ceremonious, and watches his visitors slyly out of the corner of his eye. + </p> + <p> + Maitre Mouche is quite pleased, he informs us; he is delighted to find we + have taken such an interest in his ward. But he does not think we are + placed in this world just to amuse ourselves. No: he does not believe it; + and I am free to acknowledge that anybody in his company is likely to + reach the same conclusion, so little is he capable of inspiring + joyfulness. He fears that it would be giving his dear ward a false and + pernicious idea of life to allow her too much enjoyment. It is for this + reason that he requests Madame de Gabry not to invite the young girl to + her house except at very long intervals. + </p> + <p> + We left the dusty notary and his dusty study with a permit in due form + (everything which issues from the office of Maitre Mouche is in due form) + to visit Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre on the first Thursday of each month + at Mademoiselle Prefere’s private school, Rue Demours, Aux Ternes. + </p> + <p> + The first Thursday in May I set out to pay a visit to Mademoiselle + Prefere, whose establishment I discerned from afar off by a big sign, + painted with blue letters. That blue tint was the first indication I + received of Mademoiselle Prefere’s character, which I was able to see more + of later on. A scared-looking servant took my card, and abandoned me + without one word of hope at the door of a chilly parlour full of that + stale odour peculiar to the dining-rooms of educational establishments. + The floor of this parlour had been waxed with such pitiless energy, that I + remained for awhile in distress upon the threshold. But happily observing + that little strips of woollen carpet had been scattered over the floor in + front of each horse-hair chair, I succeeded, by cautiously stepping from + one carpet-island to another in reaching the angle of the mantlepiece, + where I sat down quite out of breath. + </p> + <p> + Over the mantelpiece, in a large gilded frame, was a written document, + entitled in flamboyant Gothic lettering, Tableau d’Honneur, with a long + array of names underneath, among which I did not have the pleasure of + finding that of Jeanne Alexandre. After having read over several times the + names of those girl-pupils who had thus made themselves honoured in the + eyes of Mademoiselle Prefere, I began to feel uneasy at not hearing any + one coming. Mademoiselle Prefere would certainly have succeeded in + establishing the absolute silence of interstellar spaces throughout her + pedagogical domains, had it not been that the sparrows had chosen her yard + to assemble in by legions, and chirp at the top of their voices. It was a + pleasure to hear them. But there was no way of seeing them—through + the ground-glass windows. I had to content myself with the sights of the + parlour, decorated from floor to ceiling, on all of its four walls, with + drawings executed by the pupils of the institution. There were Vestals, + flowers, thatched cottages, column-capitals, and an enormous head of + Tatius, King of the Sabines, bearing the signature Estelle Mouton. + </p> + <p> + I had already passed some time in admiring the energy with which + Mademoiselle Mouton had delineated the bushy eyebrows and the fierce gaze + of the antique warrior, when a sound, faint like the rustling of a dead + leaf moved by the wind, caused me to turn my head. It was not a dead leaf + at all—it was Mademoiselle Prefere. With hands jointed before her, + she came gliding over the mirror-polish of that wonderful floor as the + Saints of the Golden Legend were wont to glide over the crystal surface of + the waters. But upon any other occasion, I am sure, Mademoiselle Prefere + would not have made me think in the least about those virgins dear to + mystical fancy. Her face rather gave me the idea of a russet-apple + preserved or a whole winter in an attic by some economical housekeeper. + Her shoulders were covered with a fringed pelerine, which had nothing at + all remarkable about it, but which she wore as if it were a sacerdotal + vestment, or the symbol of some high civic function. + </p> + <p> + I explained to her the purpose of my visit, and gave her my letter of + introduction. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—so you are Monsieur Mouche!” she exclaimed. “Is his health VERY + good? He is the most upright of men, the most—-” + </p> + <p> + She did not finish the phrase, but raised her eyes to the ceiling. My own + followed the direction of their gaze, and observed a little spiral of + paper lace, suspended from the place of the chandelier, which was + apparently destined, so far as I could discover, to attract the flies away + from the gilded mirror-frames and the Tableau d’Honneur. + </p> + <p> + “I have met Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre,” I observed, “at the residence + of Madame de Gabry and had reason to appreciate the excellent character + and quick intelligence of the young girl. As I used to know her parents + very well, the friendship which I felt for them naturally inclines me to + take an interest in her.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere, in lieu of making any reply, sighed profoundly, + pressed her mysterious pelerine to her heart, and again contemplated the + paper spiral. + </p> + <p> + At last she observed, + </p> + <p> + “Since you were once the friend of Monsieur and Madame Alexandre, I hope + and trust that, like Monsieur Mouche and myself, you deplore those crazy + speculations which led them to ruin, and reduced their daughter to + absolute poverty!” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself, on hearing these words, how very wrong it is to be + unlucky, and how unpardonable such an error on the part of those + previously in a position worthy of envy. Their fall at once avenges and + flatters us; and we are wholly pitiless. + </p> + <p> + After having answered, very frankly, that I knew nothing whatever about + the history of the bank, I asked the schoolmistress if she was satisfied + with Mademoiselle Alexandre. + </p> + <p> + “That child is indomitable!” cried Mademoiselle Prefere. + </p> + <p> + And she assumed an attitude of lofty resignation, to symbolise the + difficult situation she was placed in by a pupil so hard to train. Then, + with more calmness of manner, she added: + </p> + <p> + “The young person is not unintelligent. But she cannot resign herself to + learn things by rule.” + </p> + <p> + What a strange old maid was this Mademoiselle Prefere! She walked without + lifting her legs, and spoke without moving her lips! Without, however, + considering her peculiarities for more than a reasonable instant, I + replied that principles were, no doubt, very excellent things, and that I + could trust myself to her judgement in regard to their value; but that, + after all, when one had learned something, it very little difference what + method had been followed in the learning of it. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle made a slow gesture of dissent. Then with a sigh, she + declared, + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Monsieur! those who do not understand educational methods are apt to + have very false ideas on these subjects. I am certain they express their + opinions with the best intentions in the world; but they would do better, + a great deal better, to leave all such questions to competent people.” + </p> + <p> + I did not attempt to argue further; and simply asked her whether I could + see Mademoiselle Alexandre at once. + </p> + <p> + She looked at her pelerine, as if trying to read in the entanglements of + its fringes, as in a conjuring book, what sort of answer she ought to + make; then said, + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Alexandre has a penance to perform, and a class-lesson to + give; but I should be very sorry to let you put yourself to the trouble of + coming here all to no purpose. I am going to send for her. Only first + allow me, Monsieur—as is our custom—to put your name on the + visitors’ register.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down at the table, opened a large copybook, and, taking out Maitre + Mouche’s letter again from under her pelerine, where she had placed it, + looked at it, and began to write. + </p> + <p> + “‘Bonnard’—with a ‘d,’ is it not?” she asked. “Excuse me for being + so particular; but my opinion is that proper names have an orthography. We + have dictation-lessons in proper names, Monsieur, at this school—historical + proper names, of course!” + </p> + <p> + After I had written down my name in a running hand, she inquired whether + she should not put down after it my profession, title, quality—such + as “retired merchant,” “employe,” “independent gentleman,” or something + else. There was a column in her register expressly for that purpose. + </p> + <p> + “My goodness, Madame!” I said, “if you must absolutely fill that column of + yours, put down ‘Member of the Institute.’” + </p> + <p> + It was still Mademoiselle Prefere’s pelerine I saw before me; but it was + not Mademoiselle Prefere who wore it; it was a totally different person, + obliging, gracious, caressing, radiant, happy. Her eyes, smiled; the + little wrinkles of her face (there were a vast number of them!) also + smiled; her mouth smiled likewise, but only on one side. I discovered + afterwards that was her best side. She spoke: her voice had also changed + with her manner; it was now sweet as honey. + </p> + <p> + “You said, Monsieur, that our dear Jeanne was very intelligent. I + discovered the same thing myself, and I am proud of being able to agree + with you. This young girl has really made me feel a great deal of interest + in her. She has what I call a happy disposition.... But excuse me for thus + drawing upon your valuable time.” + </p> + <p> + She summoned the servant-girl, who looked much more hurried and scared + than before, and who vanished with the order to go and tell Mademoiselle + Alexandre that Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard, Member of the Institute, was + waiting to see her in the parlour. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere had barely time to confide in me that she had the + most profound respect for all decisions of the Institute—whatever + they might be—when Jeanne appeared, out of breath, red as a poppy, + with her eyes very wide open, and her arms dangling helplessly at her + sides—charming in her artless awkwardness. + </p> + <p> + “What a state you are in, my dear child!” murmured Mademoiselle Prefere, + with maternal sweetness, as she arranged the girl’s collar. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne certainly did present an odd aspect. Her hair combed back, and + imperfectly held by a net from which loose curls were escaping; her + slender arms, sheathed down to the elbows in lustring sleeves; her hands, + which she did not seem to know what to do with, all red with chillblains; + her dress, much too short, revealing that she had on stockings much too + large for her, and shoes worn down at the heel; and a skipping-rope tied + round her waist in lieu of a belt,—all combined to lend Mademoiselle + Jeanne an appearance the reverse of presentable. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you crazy girl!” sighed Mademoiselle Prefere, who now seemed no + longer like a mother, but rather like an elder sister. + </p> + <p> + Then she suddenly left the room, gliding like a shadow over the polished + floor. + </p> + <p> + I said to Jeanne, + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Jeanne, and talk to me as you would to a friend. Are you not + better satisfied here now than you were last year?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated; then answered with a good-natured smile of resignation, + </p> + <p> + “Not much better.” + </p> + <p> + I asked her to tell me about her school life. She began at once to + enumerate all her different studies—piano, style, chronology of the + Kings of France, sewing, drawing, catechism, deportment... I could never + remember them all! She still held in her hands, all unconsciously, the two + ends of her skipping-rope, and she raised and lowered them regularly while + making her enumeration. Then all at once she became conscious of what she + was doing, blushed, stammered, and became so confused that I had to + renounce my desire to know the full programme of study adopted in the + Prefere Institution. + </p> + <p> + After having questioned Jeanne on various matters, and obtained only the + vaguest of answers, I perceived that her young mind was totally absorbed + by the skipping-rope, and I entered bravely into that grave subject. + </p> + <p> + “So you have been skipping?” I said. “It is a very nice amusement, but one + that you must not exert yourself too much at; for any excessive exercise + of that kind might seriously injure your health, and I should be very much + grieved about it Jeanne—I should be very much grieved, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, Monsieur,” the young girl said, “to have come to see + me and talk to me like this. I did not think about thanking you when I + came in, because I was too much surprised. Have you seen Madame de Gabry? + Please tell me something about her, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame de Gabry,” I answered, “is very well. I can only tell you about + her, Jeanne, what an old gardener once said of the lady of the castle, his + mistress, when somebody anxiously inquired about her: ‘Madame is in her + road.’ Yes, Madame de Gabry is in her own road; and you know, Jeanne, what + a good road it is, and how steadily she can walk upon it. I went out with + her the other day, very, very far away from the house; and we talked about + you. We talked about you, my child, at your mother’s grave.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad,” said Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + And then, all at once, she began to cry. + </p> + <p> + I felt too much reverence for those generous tears to attempt in any way + to check the emotion that had evoked them. But in a little while, as the + girl wiped her eyes, I asked her, + </p> + <p> + “Will you not tell me, Jeanne, why you were thinking so much about that + skipping-rope a little while ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, indeed I will, Monsieur. It was only because I had no right to come + into the parlour with a skipping-rope. You know, of course, that I am past + the age for playing at skipping. But when the servant said there was an + old gentleman... oh!... I mean... that a gentleman was waiting for me in + the parlour, I was making the little girls jump. Then I tied the rope + round my waist in a hurry, so that it might not get lost. It was wrong. + But I have not been in the habit of having many people come to see me. And + Mademoiselle Prefere never lets us off if we commit any breach of + deportment: so I know she is going to punish me, and I am very sorry about + it.”... + </p> + <p> + “That is too bad, Jeanne!” + </p> + <p> + She became very grave, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur, it is too bad; because when I am punished myself, I have + no more authority over the little girls.” + </p> + <p> + I did not at once fully understand the nature of this unpleasantness; but + Jeanne explained to me that, as she was charged by Mademoiselle Prefere + with the duties of taking care of the youngest class, of washing and + dressing the children, of teaching them how to behave, how to sew, how to + say the alphabet, of showing them how to play, and, finally, of putting + them to bed at the close of the day, she could not make herself obeyed by + those turbulent little folks on the days she was condemned to wear a + night-cap in the class-room, or to eat her meals standing up, from a plate + turned upside down. + </p> + <p> + Having secretly admired the punishments devised by the Lady of the + Enchanted Pelerine, I responded: + </p> + <p> + “Then, if I understand you rightly, Jeanne, you are at once a pupil here + and a mistress? It is a condition of existence very common in the world. + You are punished, and you punish?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur!” she exclaimed. “No! I never punish!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I suspect,” said I, “that your indulgence gets you many scoldings + from Mademoiselle Prefere?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and blinked. + </p> + <p> + Then I said to her that the troubles in which we often involve ourselves, + by trying to act according to our conscience and to do the best we can, + are never of the sort that totally dishearten and weary us, but are, on + the contrary, wholesome trials. This sort of philosophy touched her very + little. She even appeared totally unmoved by my moral exhortations. But + was not this quite natural on her part?—and ought I not to have + remembered that it is only those no longer innocent who can find pleasure + in the systems of moralists?... I had at least good sense enough to cut + short my sermonising. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne,” I said, “you were asking a moment ago about Madame de Gabry. Let + us talk about that Fairy of yours She was very prettily made. Do you do + any modelling in wax now?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not a bit of wax,” she exclaimed, wringing her hands—“no wax + at all!” + </p> + <p> + “No wax!” I cried—“in a republic of busy bees?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “And, then, you see, Monsieur, my FIGURINES, as you call them, are not in + Mademoiselle Prefere’s programme. But I had begun to make a very small + Saint-George for Madame de Gabry—a tiny little Saint-George, with a + golden cuirass. Is not that right, Monsieur Bonnard—to give + Saint-George a gold cuirass?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, Jeanne; but what became of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you, I kept it in my pocket because I had no other + place to put it, and—and I sat down on it by mistake.” + </p> + <p> + She drew out of her pocket a little wax figure, which had been squeezed + out of all resemblance to human form, and of which the dislocated limbs + were only attached to the body by their wire framework. At the sight of + her hero thus marred, she was seized at once with compassion and gaiety. + The latter feeling obtained the mastery, and she burst into a clear laugh, + which, however, stopped as suddenly as it had begun. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere stood at the parlour door, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “That dear child!” sighed the schoolmistress in her tenderest tone. “I am + afraid she will tire you. And, then, your time is so precious!” + </p> + <p> + I begged Mademoiselle Prefere to dismiss that illusion, and, rising to + take my leave, I took from my pocket some chocolate-cakes and sweets which + I had brought with me. + </p> + <p> + “That is so nice!” said Jeanne; “there will be enough to go round the + whole school.” + </p> + <p> + The lady of the pelerine intervened. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Alexandre,” she said, “thank Monsieur for his generosity.” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne looked at her for an instant in a sullen way; then, turning to me, + said with remarkable firmness, + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I thank you for your kindness in coming to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne,” I said, pressing both her hands, “remain always a good, + truthful, brave girl. Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + As she left the room with her packages of chocolate and confectionery, she + happened to strike the handles of her skipping-rope against the back of a + chair. Mademoiselle Prefere, full of indignation, pressed both hands over + her heart, under her pelerine; and I almost expected to see her give up + her scholastic ghost. + </p> + <p> + When we found ourselves alone, she recovered her composure; and I must + say, without considering myself thereby flattered, that she smiled upon me + with one whole side of her face. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” I said, taking advantage of her good humour, “I noticed + that Jeanne Alexandre looks a little pale. You know better than I how much + consideration and care a young girl requires at her age. It would only be + doing you an injustice by implication to recommend her still more + earnestly to your vigilance.” + </p> + <p> + These words seemed to ravish her with delight. She lifted her eyes, as in + ecstasy, to the paper spirals of the ceiling, and, clasping her hands + exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “How well these eminent men know the art of considering the most trifling + details!” + </p> + <p> + I called her attention to the fact that the health of a young girl was not + a trifling detail, and made my farewell bow. But she stopped me on the + threshold to say to me, very confidentially, + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me, Monsieur. I am a woman, and I love glory. I cannot + conceal from you the fact that I feel myself greatly honoured by the + presence of a Member of the Institute in my humble institution.” + </p> + <p> + I duly excused the weakness of Mademoiselle Prefere; and, thinking only of + Jeanne, with the blindness of egotism, kept asking myself all along the + road, “What are we going to do with this child?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 3. + </h2> + <p> + I had escorted to the Cimetiere de Marnes that day a very aged colleague + of mine who, to use the words of Goethe, had consented to die. The great + Goethe, whose own vital force was something extraordinary, actually + believed that one never dies until one really wants to die—that is + to say, when all those energies which resist dissolution, and teh sum of + which make up life itself, have been totally destroyed. In other words, he + believed that people only die when it is no longer possible for them to + live. Good! it is merely a question of properly understanding one another; + and when fully comprehended, the magnificent idea of Goethe only brings us + quietly back to the song of La Palisse. + </p> + <p> + Well, my excellent colleague had consented to die—thanks to several + successive attacks of extremely persuasive apoplexy—the last of + which proved unanswerable. I had been very little acquainted with him + during his lifetime; but it seems that I became his friend the moment he + was dead, for our colleagues assured me in a most serious manner, with + deeply sympathetic countenances, that I should act as one of the + pall-bearers, and deliver an address over the tomb. + </p> + <p> + After having read very badly a short address I had written as well as I + could—which is not saying much for it—I started out for a walk + in the woods of Ville-d’Avray, and followed, without leaning too much on + the Captain’s cane, a shaded path on which the sunlight fell, through + foliage, in little discs of gold. Never had the scent of grass and fresh + leaves,—never had the beauty of the sky over the trees, and the + serene might of noble tree contours, so deeply affected my senses and all + my being; and the pleasure I felt in that silence, broken only by faintest + tinkling sounds, was at once of the senses and of the soul. + </p> + <p> + I sat down in the shade of the roadside under a clump of young oaks. And + there I made a promise to myself not to die, or at least not to consent to + die, before I should be again able to sit down under and oak, where—in + the great peace of the open country—I could meditate on the nature + of the soul and the ultimate destiny of man. A bee, whose brown + breast-plate gleamed in the sun like armour of old gold, came to light + upon a mallow-flower close by me—darkly rich in colour, and fully + opened upon its tufted stalk. It was certainly not the first time I had + witnessed so common an incident; but it was the first time that I had + watched it with such comprehensive and friendly curiosity. I could discern + that there were all sorts of sympathies between the insect and the flower—a + thousand singular little relationships which I had never before even + suspected. + </p> + <p> + Satiated with nectar, the insect rose and buzzed away in a straight line, + while I lifted myself up as best I could, and readjusted myself upon my + legs. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” I said to the flower and to the bee. “Adieu! Heaven grant I may + live long enough to discover the secret of your harmonies. I am very + tired. But man is so made that he can only find relaxation from one kind + of labour by taking up another. The flowers and insects will give me that + relaxation, with God’s will, after my long researches in philology and + diplomatics. How full of meaning is that old myth of Antaeus! I have + touched the Earth and I am a new man; and now at seventy years of age, new + feelings of curiosity take birth in my mind, even as young shoots + sometimes spring up from the hollow trunk of an aged oak!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 4. + </h2> + <p> + I like to look out of my window at the Seine and its quays on those soft + grey mornings which give such an infinite tenderness of tint to + everything. I have seen that azure sky which flings so luminous a calm + over the Bay of Naples. But our Parisian sky is more animated, more + kindly, more spiritual. It smiles, threatens, caresses—takes an + aspect of melancholy or a look of merriment like a human gaze. At this + moment it is pouring down a very gentle light on the men and beasts of the + city as they accomplish their daily tasks. Over there, on the opposite + bank, the stevedores of the Port Saint-Nicholas are unloading a cargo of + cow’s horns; while two men standing on a gangway are tossing sugar-loaves + from one to the other, and thence to somebody in the hold of a steamer. On + the north quay, the cab-horses, standing in a line under the shade of the + plane-trees each with its head in a nose-bag, are quietly munching their + oats, while the rubicund drivers are drinking at the counter of the + wine-seller opposite, but all the while keeping a sharp lookout for early + customers. + </p> + <p> + The dealers in second-hand books put their boxes on the parapet. These + good retailers of Mind, who are always in the open air, with blouses loose + to the breeze, have become so weatherbeaten by the wind, the rain, the + frost, the snow, the fog, and the great sun, that they end by looking very + much like the old statues of cathedrals. They are all friends of mine, and + I scarcely ever pass by their boxes without picking out of one of them + some old book which I had always been in need of up to that very moment, + without any suspicion of the fact on my part. + </p> + <p> + Then on my return home I have to endure the outcries of my housekeeper, + who accuses me of bursting all my pockets and filling the house with waste + paper to attract the rats. Therese is wise about that, and it is because + she is wise that I do not listen to her; for in spite of my tranquil mien, + I have always preferred the folly of the passions to the wisdom of + indifference. But just because my own passions are not of that sort which + burst out with violence to devastate and kill, the common mind is not + aware of their existence. Nevertheless, I am greatly moved by them at + times, and it has more than once been my fate to lose my sleep for the + sake of a few pages written by some forgotten monk or printed by some + humble apprentice of Peter Schaeffer. And if these fierce enthusiasms are + slowly being quenched in me, it is only because I am being slowly quenched + myself. Our passions are ourselves. My old books are Me. I am just as old + and thumb-worn as they are. + </p> + <p> + A light breeze sweeps away, along with the dust of the pavements, the + winged seeds of the plane trees, and the fragments of hay dropped from the + mouths of the horses. The dust is nothing remarkable in itself; but as I + watch it flying, I remember a moment in my childhood when I watched just + such a swirl of dust; and my old Parisian soul is much affected by that + sudden recollection. All that I see from my window—that horizon + which extends to the left as far as the hills of Chaillot, and enables me + to distinguish the Arc de Triomphe like a die of stone, the Seine, river + of glory, and its bridges, the ash-trees of the terrace of the Tuileries, + the Louvre of the Renaissance, cut and graven like goldsmith-work; and on + my right, towards the Pont-Neuf (pons Lutetiae Novus dictus, as it is + named on old engravings), all the old and venerable part of Paris, with + its towers and spires:—all that is my life, it is myself; and I + should be nothing but for all those things which are thus reflected in me + through my thousand varying shades of thought, inspiring me and animating + me. That is why I love Paris with an immense love. + </p> + <p> + And nevertheless I am weary, and I know that there can be no rest for me + in the heart of this great city which thinks so much, which has taught me + to think, and which for ever urges me to think more. And how avoid being + exited among all these books which incessantly tempt my curiosity without + ever satisfying it? At one moment it is a date I have to look for; at + another it is the name of a place I have to make sure of, or some quaint + term of which it is important to determine the exact meaning. Words?—why, + yes! words. As a philologist, I am their sovereign; they are my subjects, + and, like a good king, I devote my whole life to them. But shall I not be + able to abdicate some day? I have an idea that there is somewhere or + other, quite far from here, a certain little cottage where I could enjoy + the quiet I so much need, while awaiting that day in which a greater quiet—that + which can be never broken—shall come to wrap me all about. I dream + of a bench before the threshold, and of fields spreading away out of + sight. But I must have a fresh smiling young face beside me, to reflect + and concentrate all that freshness of nature. I could then imagine myself + a grandfather, and all the long void of my life would be filled.... + </p> + <p> + I am not a violent man, and yet I become easily vexed, and all my works + have caused me quite as much pain as pleasure. And I do not know how it is + that I still keep thinking about that very conceited and very + inconsiderated impertinence which my young friend of the Luxembourg took + the liberty to utter about me some three months ago. I do not call him + “friend” in irony, for I love studious youth with all it temerities and + imaginative eccentricities. Still, my young friend certainly went beyond + all bounds. Master Ambroise Pare, who was the first to attempt the + ligature of arteries, and who, having commenced his profession at a time + when surgery was only performed by quack barbers, nevertheless succeeded + in lifting the science to the high place it now occupies, was assailed in + his old age by all the young sawbones’ apprentices. Being grossly abused + during a discussion by some young addlehead who might have been the best + son in the world, but who certainly lacked all sense of respect, the old + master answered him in his treatise De la Mumie, de la Licorne, des Venins + et de la Peste. “I pray him,” said the great man—“I pray him, that + if he desire to make any contradictions to my reply, he abandon all + animosities, and treat the good old man with gentleness.” This answer + seems admirable from the pen of Ambroise Pare; but even had it been + written by a village bonesetter, grown grey in his calling, and mocked by + some young stripling, it would still be worthy of all praise. + </p> + <p> + It might perhaps seem that my memory of the incident had been kept alive + only by a base feeling of resentment. I thought so myself at first, and + reproached myself for thus dwelling on the saying of a boy who could not + yet know the meaning of his own words. But my reflections on this subject + subsequently took a better course: that is why I now note them down in my + diary. I remembered that one day when I was twenty years old (that was + more than half a century ago) I was walking about in that very same garden + of the Luxembourg with some comrades. We were talking about our old + professors; and one of us happened to name Monsieur Petit-Radel, an + estimable and learned man, who was the first to throw some light upon the + origins of early Etruscan civilisation, but who had been unfortunate + enough to prepare a chronological table of the lovers of Helen. We all + laughed a great deal about that chronological table; and I cried out, + “Petit-Radel is an ass, not in three letters, but in twelve whole + volumes!” + </p> + <p> + This foolish speech of my adolescence was uttered too lightly to be a + weight on my conscience as an old man. May God kindly prove to me some day + that I never used an less innocent shaft of speech in the battle of life! + But I now ask myself whether I really never wrote, at any time in my life, + something quite as unconsciously absurd as the chronological table of the + lovers of Helen. The progress of science renders useless the very books + which have been the greatest aids to that progress. As those works are no + longer useful, modern youth is naturally inclined to believe they never + had any value; it despises them, and ridicules them if they happen to + contain any superannuated opinion whatever. That is why, in my twentieth + year, I amused myself at the expense of Monsieur Petit-Radel and his + chronological table; and that was why, the other day, at the Luxembourg, + my young and irreverent friend... + </p> + <p> + “Rentre en toi-meme, Octave, et cesse de te plaindre. Quoi! tu veux qu’on + t’epargne et n’as rien epargne!” [ “Look into thyself, Octavius, and cease + complaining. What! thou wouldst be spared, and thou thyself hast spared + none!”] + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + June 6. + </h2> + <p> + It was the first Thursday in June. I shut up my books and took my leave of + the holy abbot Droctoveus, who, being now in the enjoyment of celestial + bliss, cannot feel very impatient to behold his name and works glorified + on earth through the humble compilation being prepared by my hands. Must I + confess it? That mallow-plant I saw visited by a bee the other day has + been occupying my thoughts much more than all the ancient abbots who ever + bore croisers or wore mitres. There is in one of Sprengel’s books which I + read in my youth, at that time when I used to read in my youth, at that + time when I used to read anything and everything, some ideas about “the + loves of flowers” which now return to memory after having been forgotten + for half a century, and which to-day interest me so much that I regret not + to have devoted the humble capacities of my mind to the study of insects + and of plants. + </p> + <p> + And only awhile ago my housekeeper surprised me at the kitchen window, in + the act of examining some wallflowers through a magnifying-glass.... + </p> + <p> + It was while looking for my cravat that I made these reflections. But + after searching to no purpose in a great number of drawers, I found myself + obliged, after all, to have recourse to my housekeeper. Therese came + limping in. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “you ought to have told me you were going out, and I + would have given you your cravat!” + </p> + <p> + “But Therese,” I replied, “would it not be a great deal better to put in + some place where I could find it without your help?” + </p> + <p> + Therese did not deign to answer me. + </p> + <p> + Therese no longer allows me to arrange anything. I cannot even have a + handkerchief without asking her for it; and as she is deaf, crippled, and, + what is worse, beginning to lose her memory, I languish in perpetual + destitution. But she exercises her domestic authority with such quiet + pride that I do not feel the courage to attempt a coup d’etat against her + government. + </p> + <p> + “My cravat! Therese!—do you hear?—my cravat! if you drive me + wild like this with your slow ways, it will not be a cravat I shall need, + but a rope to hang myself!” + </p> + <p> + “You must be in a very great hurry, Monsieur,” replied Therese. “Your + cravat is not lost. Nothing is ever lost in this house, because I have + charge of everything. But please allow me the time at least to find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet here,” I thought to myself—“here is the result of half a + century of devotedness and self-sacrifice!... Ah! if by any happy chance + this inexorable Therese had once in her whole life, only once, failed in + her duty as a servant—if she had ever been at fault for one single + instant, she could never have assumed this inflexible authority over me, + and I should at least have the courage to resist her. But how can one + resist virtue? The people who have no weaknesses are terrible; there is no + way of taking advantage of them. Just look at Therese, for example; she + has not a single fault for which you can blame her! She has no doubt of + herself; nor of God, nor of the world. She is the valiant woman, the wise + virgin of Scripture; others may know nothing about her, but I know her + worth. In my fancy I always see her carrying a lamp, a humble kitchen + lamp, illuminating the beams of some rustic roof—a lamp which will + never go out while suspended from that meagre arm of hers, scraggy and + strong as a vine-branch. + </p> + <p> + “Therese, my cravat! Don’t you know, wretched woman, that to-day is the + first Thursday in June, and that Mademoiselle Jeanne will be waiting for + me? The schoolmistress has certainly had the parlour floor vigorously + waxed: I am sure one can look at oneself in it now; and it will be quite a + consolation for me when I slip and break my old bones upon it—which + is sure to happen sooner or later—to see my rueful countenance + reflected in it as in a looking-glass. Then taking for my model that + amiable and admirable hero whose image is carved upon the handle of Uncle + Victor’s walking-stick, I will control myself so as not to make too ugly a + grimace.... See what a splendid sun! The quays are all gilded by it, and + the Seine smiles in countless little flashing wrinkles. The city is gold: + a dust-haze, blonde and gold-toned as a woman’s hair, floats above its + beautiful contours.... Therese, my cravat!... Ah! I can now comprehend the + wisdom of that old Chrysal who used to keep his neckbands in a big + Plutarch. Hereafter I shall follow his example by laying all my neckties + away between the leaves of the Acta Sanctorum.” + </p> + <p> + Therese let me talk on, and keeps looking for the necktie in silence. I + hear a gentle ringing at our door-bell. + </p> + <p> + “Therese,” I exclaim; “there is somebody ringing the bell! Give me my + cravat, and go to the door; or, rather, go to the door first, and then, + with the help of Heaven, you will give me my cravat. But please do not + stand there between the clothes-press and the door like an old hack-horse + between two saddles.” + </p> + <p> + Therese marched to the door as if advancing upon the enemy. My excellent + housekeeper becomes more inhospitable the older she grows. Every stranger + is an object of suspicion to her. According to her own assertion, this + disposition is the result of a long experience with human nature. I had + not the time to consider whether the same experience on the part of + another experimenter would produce the same results. Maitre Mouche was + waiting to see me in the ante-room. + </p> + <p> + Maitre Mouche is still more yellow than I had believed him to be. He wears + blue glasses, and his eyes keep moving uneasily behind them, like mice + running about behind a screen. + </p> + <p> + Maitre Mouche excuses himself for having intruded upon me at a moment + when.... He does not characterise the moment; but I think he means to say + a moment in which I happen to be without my cravat. It is not my fault, as + you very well know. Maitre Mouche, who does not know, does not appear to + be at all shocked, however. He is only afraid that he might have dropped + in at the wrong moment. I succeeded in partially reassuring him at once + upon that point. He then tells me it is as guardian of Mademoiselle + Alexandre that he has come to talk with me. First of all, he desires that + I shall not hereafter pay any heed to those restrictions he had at first + deemed necessary to put upon the permit given to visit Mademoiselle Jeanne + at the boarding-school. Henceforth the establishment of Mademoiselle + Prefere will be open to me any day that I might choose to call—between + the hours of midday and four o’clock. Knowing the interest I have taken in + the young girl, he considers it his duty to give me some information about + the person to whom he has confided his ward. Mademoiselle Prefere, whom he + has known for many years, is in possession of his utmost confidence. + Mademoiselle Prefere is, in his estimation, an enlightened person, of + excellent morals, and capable of giving excellent counsel. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Prefer,” he said to me, “has principles; and principles are + rare these days, Monsieur. Everything has been totally changed; and this + epoch of ours cannot compare with the preceding ones.” + </p> + <p> + “My stairway is a good example, Monsieur,” I replied; “twenty-five years + ago it used to allow me to climb it without any trouble, and now it takes + my breath away, and wears my legs out before I have climbed half a dozen + steps. It has had its character spoiled. Then there are those journals and + books I used once to devour without difficulty by moonlight: to-day, even + in the brightest sunlight, they mock my curiosity, and exhibit nothing but + a blur of white and black when I have not got my spectacles on. Then the + gout has got into my limbs. That is another malicious trick of the times!” + </p> + <p> + “Not only that, Monsieur,” gravely replied Maitre Mouche, “but what is + really unfortunate in our epoch is that no one is satisfied with his + position. From the top of society to the bottom, in every class, there + prevails a discontent, a restlessness, a love of comfort....” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu, Monsieur!” I exclaimed. “You think this love of comfort is a + sign of the times? Men have never had at any epoch a love of discomfort. + They have always tried to better their condition. This constant effort + produces constant changes, and the effort is always going on—that is + all there is about it!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Monsieur,” replied Maitre Mouche, “it is easy to see that you live in + your books—out of the business world altogether. You do not see, as + I see them, the conflicts of interest, the struggle for money. It is the + same effervescence in all minds, great or small. The wildest speculations + are being everywhere indulged in. What I see around me simply terrifies + me!” + </p> + <p> + I wondered within myself whether Maitre Mouche had called upon me only for + the purpose of expressing his virtuous misanthropy; but all at once I + heard words of a more consoling character issue from his lips. Maitre + Mouche began to speak to me of Virginie Prefere as a person worthy of + respect, of esteem, and of sympathy,—highly honourable, capable of + great devotedness, cultivated, discreet,—able to read aloud + remarkably well, extremely modest, and skillful in the art of applying + blisters. Then I began to understand that he had only been painting that + dismal picture of universal corruption in order the better to bring out, + by contrast, the virtues of the schoolmistress. I was further informed + that the institution in the Rue Demours was well patronised, prosperous, + and enjoyed a high reputation with the public. Maitre Mouche lifted up his + hand—with a black woollen glove on it—as if making oath to the + truth of these statements. Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “I am enabled, by the very character of my profession, to know a great + deal about people. A notary is, to a certain extent, a father-confessor. + </p> + <p> + “I deemed it my duty, Monsieur, to give you this agreeable information at + the moment when a lucky chance enabled you to meet Mademoiselle Prefere. + There is only one thing more which I would like to say. This lady—who + is, of course, quite unaware of my action in the matter—spoke to me + of you the other day in terms of deepest sympathy. I could only weaken + their expression by repeating them to you; and furthermore, I could not + repeat them without betraying, to a certain extent, the confidence of + Mademoiselle Prefere.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not betray it, Monsieur; do not betray it!” I responded. “To tell you + the truth, I had no idea that Mademoiselle Prefere knew anything whatever + about me. But since you have the influence of an old friend with her, I + will take advantage of your good will, Monsieur, to ask you to exercise + that influence in behalf of Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre. The child—for + she is still a child—is overloaded with work. She is at once a pupil + and a mistress—she is overtasked. Besides, she is punished in petty + disgusting ways; and hers is one of those generous natures which will be + forced into revolt by such continual humiliation.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” replied Maitre Mouche, “she must be trained to take her part in + the struggle of life. One does not come into this world simply to amuse + oneself, and to do just what one pleases.” + </p> + <p> + “One comes into this world,” I responded, rather warmly, “to enjoy what is + beautiful and what is good, and to do as one pleases, when the things one + wants to do are noble, intelligent, and generous. An education which does + not cultivate the will, is an education that depraves the mind. It is a + teacher’s duty to teach the pupil HOW to will.” + </p> + <p> + I perceived that Maitre Mouche began to think me a rather silly man. With + a great deal of quiet self-assurance, he proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “You must remember, Monsieur, that the education of the poor has to be + conducted with a great deal of circumspection, and with a view to that + future state of dependence they must occupy in society. Perhaps you are + not aware that the late Noel Alexandre died a bankrupt, and that his + daughter is being educated almost by charity?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Monsieur!” I exclaimed, “do not say it! To say it is to pay oneself + back, and then the statement ceases to be true.” + </p> + <p> + “The liabilities of the estate,” continued the notary, “exceeded the + assets. But I was able to effect a settlement with the creditors in favour + of the minor.” + </p> + <p> + He undertook to explain matters in detail. I declined to listen to these + explanations, being incapable of understanding business methods in + general, and those of Maitre Mouche in particular. The notary then took it + upon himself to justify Mademoiselle Prefere’s educational system, and + observed by way of conclusion, + </p> + <p> + “It is not by amusing oneself that one can learn.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only by amusing oneself that one can learn,” I replied. “The whole + art of teaching is only the art of awakening the natural curiosity of + young minds for the purpose of satisfying it afterwards; and curiosity + itself can be vivid and wholesome only in proportion as the mind is + contented and happy. Those acquirements crammed by force into the minds of + children simply clog and stifle intelligence. In order that knowledge be + properly digested, it must have been swallowed with a good appetite. I + know Jeanne! If that child were intrusted to my care, I should make of her—not + a learned woman, for I would look to her future happiness only—but a + child full of bright intelligence and full of life, in whom everything + beautiful in art or nature would awaken some gentle responsive thrill. I + would teach her to live in sympathy with all that is beautiful—comely + landscapes, the ideal scenes of poetry and history, the emotional charm of + noble music. I would make lovable to her everything I would wish her to + love. Even her needlework I would make pleasurable to her, by a proper + choice of fabrics, the style of embroideries, the designs of lace. I would + give her a beautiful dog, and a pony to teach her how to manage animals; I + would give her birds to take care of, so that she could learn the value of + even a drop of water and a crumb of bread. And in order that she should + have a still higher pleasure, I would train her to find delight in + exercising charity. And inasmuch as none of us may escape pain, I should + teach her that Christian wisdom which elevates us above all suffering, and + gives a beauty even to grief itself. That is my idea of the right way to + educate a young girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I yield, Monsieur,” replied Maitre Mouche, joining his black-gloved hands + together. + </p> + <p> + And he rose. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you understand,” I remarked, as I went to the door with him, + “that I do not pretend for a moment to impose my educational system upon + Mademoiselle Prefere; it is necessarily a private one, and quite + incompatible with the organisation of even the best-managed boarding + schools. I only ask you to persuade her to give Jeanne less work and more + play, and not to punish her except in case of absolute necessity, and to + let her have as much freedom of mind and body as the regulations of the + institution permit.” + </p> + <p> + It was with a pale and mysterious smile that Maitre Mouche informed me + that my observations would be taken in good part, and should receive all + possible consideration. + </p> + <p> + Therewith he made me a little bow, and took his departure, leaving me with + a peculiar feeling of discomfort and uneasiness. I have met a great many + strange characters in my time, but never any at all resembling either this + notary or this schoolmistress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + July 6. + </h2> + <p> + Maitre Mouche has so much delayed me by his visit that I gave up going to + see Jeanne that day. Professional duties kept me very busy for the rest of + the week. Although at the age when most men retire altogether from active + life, I am still attached by a thousand ties to the society in which I + have lived. I have to reside at meetings of academies, scientific + congresses, assemblies of various learned bodies. I am overburdened with + honorary functions; I have seven of these in one governmental department + alone. The bureaux would be very glad to get rid of them. But habit is + stronger than both of us together, and I continue to hobble up the stairs + of various government buildings. Old clerks point me out to each other as + I go by like a ghost wandering through the corridors. When one has become + very old one finds it extremely difficult to disappear. Nevertheless, it + is time, as the old song says, “de prendre ma retraite et de songer a + faire un fin”—to retire on my pension and prepare myself to die a + good death. + </p> + <p> + An old marchioness, who used to be a friend of Hevetius in her youth, and + whom I once met at my father’s house when a very old woman, was visited + during her last sickness by the priest of her parish, who wanted to + prepare her to die. + </p> + <p> + “Is that really necessary?” she asked. “I see everybody else manage it + perfectly well the first time.” + </p> + <p> + My father went to see her very soon afterwards and found her extremely + ill. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, my friend!” she said, pressing his hand. “I am going to see + whether God improves upon acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + So were wont to die the belles amies of the philosophers. Such an end is + certainly not vulgar nor impertinent, and such levities are not of the + sort that emanate from dull minds. Nevertheless, they shock me. Neither my + fears nor my hopes could accommodate themselves to such a mode of + departure. I would like to make mine with a perfectly collected mind; and + that is why I must begin to think, in a year or two, about some way of + belonging to myself; otherwise, I should certainly risk.... But, hush! let + Him not hear His name and turn to look as He passes by! I can still lift + my fagot without His aid. + </p> + <p> + ... I found Jeanne very happy indeed. She told me that, on the Thursday + previous, after the visit of her guardian, Mademoiselle Prefere had set + her free from the ordinary regulations and lightened her tasks in several + ways. Since that lucky Thursday she could walk in the garden—which + only lacked leaves and flowers—as much as she liked; and she had + been given facilities to work at her unfortunate little figure of + Saint-George. + </p> + <p> + She said to me, with a smile, + </p> + <p> + “I know very well that I owe all of this to you.” + </p> + <p> + I tried to talk with her about other matters, but I remarked that she + could not attend to what I was saying, in spite of her effort to do so. + </p> + <p> + “I see you are thinking about something else,” I said. “Well, tell me what + it is; for, if you do not, we shall not be able to talk to each other at + all, which would be very unworthy of both of us.” + </p> + <p> + She answered, + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I was really listening to you, Monsieur; but it is true that I was + thinking about something else. You will excuse me, won’t you? I could not + help thinking that Mademoiselle Prefere must like you very, very much + indeed, to have become so good to me all of a sudden.” + </p> + <p> + Then she looked at me in an odd, smiling, frightened way, which made me + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Does that surprise you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very much,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I can see no reason, no reason at all... but there!... no reason + at all why you should please Mademoiselle Prefere so much.” + </p> + <p> + “So, then, you think I am very displeasing, Jeanne?” + </p> + <p> + She bit her lips, as if to punish them for having made a mistake; and + then, in a coaxing way, looking at me with great soft eyes, gentle and + beautiful as a spaniel’s, she said, + </p> + <p> + “I know I said a foolish think; but, still, I do not see any reason why + you should be so pleasing to Mademoiselle Prefere. And, nevertheless, you + seem to please her a great deal—a very great deal. She called me one + day, and asked me all sorts of questions about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; she wanted to find out all about your house. Just think! she even + asked me how old your servant was!” + </p> + <p> + And Jeanne burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think about it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + She remained a long while with her eyes fixed on the worn-out cloth of her + shoes, and seemed to be thinking very deeply. Finally, looking up again, + she answered, + </p> + <p> + “I am distrustful. Isn’t it very natural to feel uneasy about what one + cannot understand; I know I am foolish; but you won’t be offended with me, + will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly not, Jeanne. I am not a bit offended with you.” + </p> + <p> + I must acknowledge that I was beginning to share her surprise; and I began + to turn over in my old head the singular thought of this young girl—“One + is uneasy about what one cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + But, with a fresh burst of merriment, she cried out, + </p> + <p> + “She asked me...guess! I will give you a hundred guesses—a thousand + guesses. You give it up?... She asked me if you liked good eating.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did you receive this shower of interrogations, Jeanne?” + </p> + <p> + “I replied, ‘I don’t know, Mademoiselle.’ And Mademoiselle then said to + me, ‘You are a little fool. The least details of the life of an eminent + man ought to be observed. Please to know, Mademoiselle, that Monsieur + Sylvestre Bonnard is one of the glories of France!’” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff!” I exclaimed. “And what did YOU think about it, Mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that Mademoiselle Prefere was right. But I don’t care at + all...(I know it is naughty what I am going to say)...I don’t care a bit, + not a bit, whether Mademoiselle Prefere is or is not right about + anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, content yourself, Jeanne, Mademoiselle Prefere was not + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, she was quite right that time; but I wanted to love everybody + who loved you—everybody without exception—and I cannot do it, + because it would never be possible for me to love Mademoiselle Prefere.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Jeanne,” I answered, very seriously, “Mademoiselle Prefere has + become good to you; try now to be good to her.” + </p> + <p> + She answered sharply, + </p> + <p> + “It is very easy for Mademoiselle Prefere to be good to me, and it would + be very difficult indeed for me to be good to her.” + </p> + <p> + I then said, in a still more serious tone: + </p> + <p> + “My child, the authority of a teacher is sacred. You must consider your + schoolmistress as occupying the place to you of the mother whom you lost.” + </p> + <p> + I had scarcely uttered this solemn stupidity when I bitterly regretted it. + The child turned pale, and the tears sprang to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur!” she cried, “how could you say such a thing—YOU? You + never knew mamma!” + </p> + <p> + Ay, just Heaven! I did know her mamma. And how indeed could I have been + foolish enough to have said what I did? + </p> + <p> + She repeated, as if to herself: + </p> + <p> + “Mamma! my dear mamma! my poor mamma!” + </p> + <p> + A lucky chance prevented me from playing the fool any further. I do not + know how it happened at that moment I looked as if I was going to cry. At + my age one does not cry. It must have been a bad cough which brought the + tears into my eyes. But, anyhow, appearances were in my favour. Jeanne was + deceived by them. Oh! what a pure and radiant smile suddenly shone out + under her beautiful wet eyelashes—like sunshine among branches after + a summer shower! We took each other by the hand and sat a long while + without saying a word—absolutely happy. Those celestial harmonies + which I once thought I heard thrilling through my soul while I knelt + before that tomb to which a saintly woman had guided me, suddenly awoke + again in my heart, slow-swelling through the blissful moments with + infinite softness. Doubtless the child whose hand pressed my own also + heard them; and then, elevated by their enchantment above the material + world, the poor old man and the artless young girl both knew that a tender + ghostly Presence was making sweetness all about them. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” I said at last, “I am very old, and many secrets of life, + which you will only learn little by little, have been revealed to me. + Believe me, the future is shaped out of the past. Whatever you can do to + live contentedly here, without impatience and without fretting, will help + you live some future day in peace and joy in your own home. Be gentle, and + learn how to suffer. When one suffers patiently one suffers less. If you + should be badly treated, Madame de Gabry and I would both consider + ourselves badly treated in your person.”... + </p> + <p> + “Is your health very good indeed, dear Monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + It was Mademoiselle Prefere, approaching stealthily behind us, who had + asked the question with a peculiar smile. My first idea was to tell her to + go to the devil; my second, that her mouth was as little suited for + smiling as a frying-pan for musical purposes; my third was to answer her + politely and assure her that I hoped she was very well. + </p> + <p> + She sent the young girl out to take a walk in the garden; then, pressing + one hand upon her pelerine and extending the other towards the Tableau + d’Honneur, she showed me the name of Jeanne Alexandre written at the head + of the list in large text. + </p> + <p> + “I am very much pleased,” I said to her, “to find that you are satisfied + with the behaviour of that child. Nothing could delight me more; and I am + inclined to attribute this happy result to your affectionate vigilance. I + have taken the liberty to send you a few books which I think may serve + both to instruct and to amuse young girls. You will be able to judge by + glancing over them whether they are adapted to the perusal of Mademoiselle + Alexandre and her companions.” + </p> + <p> + The gratitude of the schoolmistress not only overflowed in words, but + seemed about to take the form of tearful sensibility. In order to change + the subject I observed, + </p> + <p> + “What a beautiful day this is!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied; “and if this weather continues, those dear children + will have a nice time for their enjoyment.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you are referring to the holidays. But Mademoiselle Alexandre, + who has no relatives, cannot go away. What in the world is she going to do + all alone in this great big house?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we will do everything we can to amuse her.... I will take her to the + museums and—-” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, blushed, and continued, + </p> + <p> + “—and to your house, if you will permit me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why of course!” I exclaimed. “That is a first-rate idea.” + </p> + <p> + We separated very good friends with one another. I with her, because I had + been able to obtain what I desired; she with me, for no appreciable motive—which + fact, according to Plato, elevated her into the highest rank of the + Hierarchy of Souls. + </p> + <p> + ... And nevertheless it is not without a presentiment of evil that I find + myself on the point of introducing this person into my house. And I would + be very glad indeed to see Jeanne in charge of anybody else rather than of + her. Maitre Mouche and Mademoiselle Prefere are characters whom I cannot + at all understand. I never can imagine why they say what they do say, nor + why they do what they do; they have a mysterious something in common which + makes me feel uneasy. As Jeanne said to me a little while ago: “One is + uneasy about what one cannot understand.” + </p> + <p> + Alas! at my age one has learned only too well how little sincerity there + is in life; one has learned only too well how much one loses by living a + long time in this world; and one feels that one can no longer trust any + except the young. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 12. + </h2> + <p> + I waited for them. In fact, I waited for them very impatiently. I exerted + all my powers of insinuation and of coaxing to induce Therese to receive + them kindly; but my powers in this direction are very limited. They came. + Jeanne was neater and prettier than I had ever expected to see her. She + has not, it is true, anything approaching the charm of her mother. But + to-day, for the first time, I observed that she has a pleasing face; and a + pleasing face is of great advantage to a woman in this world. I think that + her hat was a little on one side; but she smiled, and the City of Books + was all illuminated by that smile. + </p> + <p> + I watched Therese to see whether the rigid manners of the old housekeeper + would soften a little at the sight of the young girl. I saw her turning + her lustreless eyes upon Jeanne; I saw her long wrinkled face, her + toothless mouth, and that pointed chin of hers—like the chin of some + puissant old fairy. And that was all I could see. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere made her appearance all in blue—advanced, + retreated, skipped, tripped, cried out, sighed, cast her eyes down, rolled + her eyes up, bewildered herself with excuses—said she dared not, and + nevertheless dared—said she would never dare again, and nevertheless + dared again—made courtesies innumerable—made, in short, all + the fuss she could. + </p> + <p> + “What a lot of books!” she screamed. “And have you really read them all, + Monsieur Bonnard?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! I have,” I replied, “and that is just the reason that I do not know + anything; for there is not a single one of those books which does not + contradict some other book; so that by the time one has read them all one + does not know what to think about anything. That is just my condition, + Madame.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she called Jeanne for the purpose of communicating her + impressions. But Jeanne was looking out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful it is!” she said to us. “How I love to see the river + flowing! It makes you think about all kinds of things.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere having removed her hat and exhibited a forehead + tricked out with blonde curls, my housekeeper sturdily snatched up the hat + at once, with the observation that she did not like to see people’s + clothes scattered over the furniture. Then she approached Jeanne and asked + her for her “things,” calling her “my little lady!” Where-upon the little + lady, giving up her cloak and hat, exposed to view a very graceful neck + and a lithe figure, whose outlines were beautifully relieved against the + great glow of the open window; and I could have wished that some one else + might have seen her at that moment—some one very different from an + aged housekeeper, a schoolmistress frizzled like a sheep, and this old + humbug of an archivist and paleographer. + </p> + <p> + “So you are looking at the Seine,” I said to her. “See how it sparkles in + the sun!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, leaning over the windowbar, “it looks like a flowing + of fire. But see how nice and cool it looks on the other side over there + under the shadow of the willows! That little spot there pleases me better + than all the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” I answered. “I see that the river has a charm for you. How would + you like, with Mademoiselle Prefere’s permission, to make a trip to + Saint-Cloud? We should certainly be in time to catch the steamboat just + below the Pont-Royal.” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne was delighted with my suggestion, and Mademoiselle Prefere willing + to make any sacrifice. But my housekeeper was not at all willing to let us + go off so unconcernedly. She summoned me into the dining-room, whither I + followed her in fear and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said to me as soon as we found ourselves alone, “you never + think about anything, and it is always I who have to think about + everything. Luckily for you I have a good memory.” + </p> + <p> + I did not think that it was a favourable moment for any attempt to dispel + this wild illusion. She continued: + </p> + <p> + “So you were going off without saying a word to me about what this little + lady likes to eat? At her age one does not know anything, one does not + care about anything in particular, one eats like a bird. You yourself, + Monsieur, are very difficult to please; but at least you know what is + good: it is very different with these young people—they do not know + anything about cooking. It is often the very best thing which they think + the worst, and what is bad seems to them good, because their stomachs are + not quite formed yet—so that one never knows just what to do for + them. Tell me if the little lady would like a pigeon cooked with green + peas, and whether she is fond of vanilla ice-cream.” + </p> + <p> + “My good Therese,” I answered, “just do whatever you think best, and + whatever that may be I am sure it will be very nice. Those ladies will be + quite contented with our humble ordinary fare.” + </p> + <p> + Therese replied, very dryly, + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I am asking you about the little lady: she must not leave this + house without having enjoyed herself a little. As for that old + frizzle-headed thing, if she doesn’t like my dinner she can suck her + thumbs. I don’t care what she likes!” + </p> + <p> + My mind being thus set at rest, I returned to the City of Books, where + Mademoiselle Prefere was crocheting as calmly as if she were at home. I + almost felt inclined myself to think she was. She did not take up much + room, it is true, in the angle of the window. But she had chosen her chair + and her footstool so well that those articles of furniture seemed to have + been made expressly for her. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne, on the other hand, devoted her attention to the books and pictures—gazing + at them in a kindly, expressive, half-sad way, as if she were bidding them + an affectionate farewell. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” I said to her, “amuse yourself with this book, which I am sure you + cannot help liking, because it is full of beautiful engravings.” And I + threw open before her Vecellio’s collection of costume-designs—not + the commonplace edition, by your leave, so meagrely reproduced by modern + artists, but in truth a magnificent and venerable copy of that editio + princeps which is noble as those noble dames who figure upon its yellowed + leaves, made beautiful by time. + </p> + <p> + While turning over the engravings with artless curiosity, Jeanne said to + me, + </p> + <p> + “We were talking about taking a walk; but this is a great journey you are + making me take. And I would like to travel very, very far away!” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, Mademoiselle,” I said to her, “you must arrange yourself as + comfortably as possible for travelling. But you are now sitting on one + corner of your chair, so that the chair is standing upon only one leg, and + that Vecellio must tire your knees. Sit down comfortably; put your chair + on its four feet, and put your book on the table.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed me with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + I watched her. She cried out suddenly, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come look at this beautiful costume!” (It was that of the wife of a + Doge of Venice.) “How noble it is! What magnificent ideas it gives one of + that life! Oh, I must tell you—I adore luxury!” + </p> + <p> + “You must not express such thoughts as those, Mademoiselle,” said the + schoolmistress, lifting up her little shapeless nose from her work. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, it was a very innocent utterance,” I replied. “There are + splendid souls in whom the love of splendid things is natural and inborn.” + </p> + <p> + The little shapeless nose went down again. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Prefere likes luxury too,” said Jeanne; “she cuts out paper + trimmings and shades for the lamps. It is economical luxury; but it is + luxury all the same.” + </p> + <p> + Having returned to the subject of Venice, we were just about to make the + acquaintance of a certain patrician lady attired in an embroidered + dalmatic, when I heard the bell ring. I thought it was some peddler with + his basket; but the gate of the City of Books opened, and... Well, Master + Sylvestre Bonnard, you were wishing awhile ago that the grace of your + protegee might be observed by some other eyes than old withered ones + behind spectacles. Your wishes have been fulfilled in a most unexpected + manner, and a voice cries out to you as to the imprudent Theseus, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Craignez, Seigneur, craignez que le + Ciel rigoureux Ne vous Haisse assez pour exaucer vos voeux! + Souvent dans sa colere il recoit nos victimes, + Ses presents sont souvent la peine de nos crimes.” + + [“Beware my lord! Beware lest stern + Heaven hate you enough to hear your prayers! + Often ‘tis in wrath that Heaven receives our sacrifices: + its gifts are often the punishment of our crimes.”] +</pre> + <p> + The gate of the City of Books had opened, and a handsome young man made + his appearance, ushered in by Therese. That good old soul only knows how + to open the door for people and to shut it behind them; she has no idea + whatever of the tact requisite for the waiting-room and for the parlour. + It is not in her nature either to make any announcements or to make + anybody wait. She either throws people out on the lobby, or simply pitches + them at your head. + </p> + <p> + And here is this handsome young man already inside; and I cannot really + take the girl at once and hide her like a secret treasure in the next + room. I wait for him to explain himself; he does it without the least + embarrassment; but it seems to me that he has already observed the young + girl who is still bending over the table looking at Vecellio. As I observe + the young man it occurs to me that I have seen him somewhere before, or + else I must be very much mistaken. His name is Gelis. That is a name which + I have heard somewhere,—I can’t remember where. At all events, + Monsieur Gelis (since there is a Gelis) is a fine-looking young fellow. He + tells me that this is his third class-year at the Ecole des Chartes, and + that he has been working for the past fifteen or eighteen months upon his + graduation thesis, the subject of which is the Condition of the + Benedictine Abbeys in 1700. He has just read my works upon the + “Monasticon”; and he is convinced that he cannot terminate this thesis + successfully without my advice, to begin with, and in the second place + without a certain manuscript which I possess, and which is nothing less + than the “Register of the Accounts of the Abbey of Citeaux from 1683 to + 1704.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus explained himself, he hands me a letter of introduction + bearing the signature of one of the most illustrious of my colleagues. + </p> + <p> + Good! Now I know who he is! Monsieur Gelis is the very same young man who + last year under the chestnut-trees called me an idiot! And while unfolding + his letter of introduction I think to myself: + </p> + <p> + “Aha! my unlucky youth, you are very far from suspecting that I overheard + what you said, and that I know what you think of me—or, at least, + what you did think of me that day, for these young minds are so fickle? I + have got you now, my friend! You have fallen into the lion’s den, and so + unexpectedly, in good sooth, that the astonished old lion does not know + what to do with his prey. But come now, old lion! do not act like an + idiot! Is it not possible that you were an idiot? If you are not one now, + you certainly were one! You were a fool to have been listening to Monsieur + Gelis at the foot of the statue of Marguerite de Valois; you were doubly a + fool to have heard what he said; and you were trebly a fool not to have + forgotten what it would have been much better never to have heard.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus scolded the old lion, I exhorted him to show clemency. He did + not appear to require much coaxing, and gradually became so good-natured + that he had some difficulty in restraining himself from bursting out into + joyous roarings. From the way in which I had read my colleague’s letter + one might have supposed me a man who did not know his alphabet. I took a + long while to read it; and Monsieur Gelis might have become very tired + under different circumstances; but he was watching Jeanne, and endured the + trial with exemplary patience. Jeanne occasionally turned her face in our + direction. Well you could not expect a person to remain perfectly + motionless, could you? Mademoiselle Prefere was arranging her curls, and + her bosom occasionally swelled with little sighs. It may be observed that + I have myself often been honoured with those little sighs. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” I said, as I folded up the letter, “I shall be very happy to + be of any service to you. You are occupied with researches in which I + myself have always felt a very lively interest. I have done all that lay + in my power. I know, as you do—and still better than you can know—how + much there remains to do. The manuscript you asked for is at your + disposal; you may take it home with you, but it is not a manuscript of the + smallest kind, and I am afraid—-” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur,” said Gelis, “big books have never been able to make me + afraid of them.” + </p> + <p> + I begged the young man to wait for me, and I went into the next room to + get the Register, which I could not find at first, and which I almost + despaired of finding, as I discerned, from certain familiar signs, that + Therese had been setting the room in order. But the Register was so big + and so heavy that, luckily for me, Therese had not been able to put it in + order as she had doubtless wished to do. I could scarcely lift it up + myself; and I had the pleasure of finding it quite as heavy as I could + have hoped. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, my boy,” I said, with a smile which must have been very sarcastic—“wait! + I am going to give you something to do which will break your arms first, + and afterwards your head. That will be the first vengeance of Sylvestre + Bonnard. Later on we shall see what else there is to be done.” + </p> + <p> + When I returned to the City of Books I heard Monsieur Gelis and + Mademoiselle Jeanne chatting—chatting together, if you please! as if + they were the best friends in the world. Mademoiselle Prefere, being full + of decorum, did not say anything; but the other two were chatting like + birds. And what about? About the blond tint used by Venetian painters! + Yes, about the “Venetian blond.” That little serpent of a Gelis was + telling Jeanne the secret of the dye with which, according to the best + authorities, the women of Titian and of Veronese tinted their hair. And + Mademoiselle Jeanne was expressing her opinion very prettily about the + honey tint and the golden tint. I understood that that scamp of a Vecellio + was responsible—that they had been bending over the book together, + and that they had been admiring either that Doge’s wife we had been + looking at awhile before, or some other patrician woman of Venice. + </p> + <p> + Never mind! I appeared with my enormous old book, thinking that Gelis was + going to make a grimace. It was as much as one could have asked a porter + to carry, and my arms were stiff merely with lifting it. But the young man + caught it up like a feather, and slipped it under his arm with a smile. + Then he thanked me with that sort of brevity which I like, reminded me + that he had need of my advice, and, having made an appointment to meet me + another day, took his departure after bowing to us with the most perfect + self-possession conceivable. + </p> + <p> + “He seems quite a decent lad,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne turned over a few more pages of Vecellio, and made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” I thought to myself.... And then we went to Saint-Cloud. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September-December. + </h2> + <p> + The regularity with which visit succeeded visit to the old man’s house + thereafter made me feel very grateful to Mademoiselle Prefere, who + succeeded at last in winning her right to occupy a special corner in the + City of Books. She now says “MY chair,” “MY footstool,” “MY pigeon hole.” + Her pigeon hole is really a small shelf properly belonging to the poets of + La Champagne, whom she expelled therefrom in order to obtain a lodging for + her work-bag. She is very amiable, and I must really be a monster not to + like her. I can only endure her—in the severest signification of the + word. But what would one not endure for Jeanne’s sake? Her presence lends + to the City of Books a charm which seems to hover about it even after she + has gone. She is very ignorant; but she is so finely gifted that whenever + I show her anything beautiful I am astounded to find that I had never + really seen it before, and that it is she who makes me see it. I have + found it impossible so far to make her follow some of my ideas, but I have + often found pleasure in following the whimsical and delicate course of her + own. + </p> + <p> + A more practical man than I would attempt to teach her to make herself + useful; but is not the capacity of being amiable a useful think in life? + Without being pretty, she charms; and the power to charm is perhaps, after + all, worth quite as much as the ability to darn stockings. Furthermore, I + am not immortal; and I doubt whether she will have become very old when my + notary (who is not Maitre Mouche) shall read to her a certain paper which + I signed a little while ago. + </p> + <p> + I do not wish that any one except myself should provide for her, and give + her her dowry. I am not, however, very rich, and the paternal inheritance + did not gain bulk in my hands. One does not accumulate money by poring + over old texts. But my books—at the price which such noble + merchandise fetches to-day—are worth something. Why, on that shelf + there are some poets of the sixteenth century for which bankers would bid + against princes! And I think that those “Heures” of Simon Vostre would not + be readily overlooked at the Hotel Sylvestre any more than would those + Preces Piae compiled for the use of Queen Claude. I have taken great pains + to collect and to preserve all those rare and curious editions which + people the City of Books; and for a long time I used to believe that they + were as necessary to my life as air and light. I have loved them well, and + even now I cannot prevent myself from smiling at them and caressing them. + Those morocco bindings are so delightful to the eye! These old vellums are + so soft to the touch! There is not a single one among those books which is + not worthy, by reason of some special merit, to command the respect of an + honourable man. What other owner would ever know how to dip into hem in + the proper way? Can I be even sure that another owner would not leave them + to decay in neglect, or mutilate them at the prompting of some ignorant + whim? Into whose hands will fall that incomparable copy of the “Histoire + de l’Abbaye de Saint-Germain-des-Pres,” on the margins of which the author + himself, in the person of Jacques Bouillard, made such substantial notes + in his own handwriting?... Master Bonnard, you are an old fool! Your + housekeeper—poor soul!—is nailed down upon her bed with a + merciless attack of rheumatism. Jeanne is to come with her chaperon, and, + instead of thinking how you are going to receive them, you are thinking + about a thousand stupidities. Sylvestre Bonnard, you will never succeed at + anything in this world, and it is I myself who tell you so! + </p> + <p> + And at this very moment I catch sight of them from my window, as they get + out of the omnibus. Jeanne leaps down lie a kitten; but Mademoiselle + Prefere intrusts herself to the strong arm of the conductor, with the shy + grace of a Virginia recovering after the shipwreck, and this time quite + resigned to being saved. Jeanne looks up, sees me, laughs, and + Mademoiselle Prefere has to prevent her from waving her umbrella at me as + a friendly signal. There is a certain stage of civilisation to which + Mademoiselle Jeanne never can be brought. You can teach her all the arts + if you like (it is not exactly to Mademoiselle Prefere that I am now + speaking); but you will never be able to teach her perfect manners. As a + charming child she makes the mistake of being charming only in her own + way. Only an old fool like myself could forgive her pranks. As for young + fools—and there are several of them still to be found—I do not + know what they would think about it; and what they might think is none of + my business. Just look at her running along the pavement, wrapped in her + cloak, with her hat tilted back on her head, and her feather fluttering in + the wind, like a schooner in full rig! And really she has a grace of poise + and motion which suggests a fine sailing-vessel—so much so, indeed, + that she makes me remember seeing one day, when I was at Havre.... But, + Bonnard, my friend, how many times is it necessary to tell you that your + housekeeper is in bed, and that you must go and open the door yourself? + </p> + <p> + Open, Old Man Winter! ‘tis Spring who rings the bell. + </p> + <p> + It is Jeanne herself—Jeanne is all flushed like a rose. Mademoiselle + Prefere, indignant and out of breath, has still another whole flight to + climb before reaching our lobby. + </p> + <p> + I explained the condition of my housekeeper, and proposed that we should + dine at a restaurant. But Therese—all-powerful still, even upon her + sick-bed—decided that we should dine at home, whether we wanted to + or no. Respectable people, in her opinion, never dined at restaurants. + Moreover, she had made all necessary arrangements—the dinner had + been bought; the concierge would cook it. + </p> + <p> + The audacious Jeanne insisted upon going to see whether the old woman + wanted anything. As you might suppose, she was sent back to the parlour + with short shrift, but not so harshly as I had feared. + </p> + <p> + “If I want anybody to do anything for me, which, thank God, I do not,” + Therese had replied, “I would get somebody less delicate and dainty than + you are. What I want is rest. That is a merchandise which is not sold at + fairs under the sign of ‘Motus with finger on lip.’ Go and have your fun, + and don’t stay here—for old age might be catching.” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne, after telling us what she had said, added that she liked very much + to hear old Therese talk. Whereupon Mademoiselle Prefere reproached her + for expressing such unladylike tastes. + </p> + <p> + I tried to excuse her by citing the example of Moliere. Just at that + moment it came to pass that, while climbing the ladder to get a book, she + upset a whole shelf-row. There was a heavy crash; and Mademoiselle + Prefere, being, of course, a very delicate person, almost fainted. Jeanne + quickly followed the books to the foot of the ladder. She made one think + of a kitten suddenly transformed into a woman, catching mice which had + been transformed into old books. While picking them up, she found one + which happened to interest her, and she began to read it, squatting down + upon her heels. It was the “Prince Grenouille,” she told us. Mademoiselle + Prefere took occasion to complain that Jeanne had so little taste for + poetry. It was impossible to get her to recite Casimir Delavigne’s poem on + the death of Joan of Arc without mistakes. It was the very most she could + do to learn “Le Petit Savoyard.” The schoolmistress did not think that any + one should read the “Prince Grenouille” before learning by heart the + stanzas to Duperrier; and, carried away by her enthusiasm, she began to + recite them in a voice sweeter than the bleating of a sheep: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ta douleur, Duperrier, sera donc eternelle, + Et les tristes discours + Que te met en l’esprit l’amitie paternelle + L’augmenteront toujours; + + . . . . . . . . . + + “Je sais de quels appas son enfance etait pleine, + Et n’ai pas entrepris, + Injurieux ami, de consoler ta peine + Avecque son mepris.” + </pre> + <p> + Then in ecstacy, she exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful that is! What harmony! How is it possible for any one not + to admire such exquisite, such touching verses! But why did Malherbe call + that poor Monsieur Duperrier his injurieux ami at a time when he had been + so severely tied by the death of his daughter? Injurieux ami—you + must acknowledge that the term is very harsh.” + </p> + <p> + I explained to this poetical person that the phrase “Injurieux ami,” which + shocked her so much, was in apposition, etc. etc. What I said, however, + had so little effect towards clearing her head that she was seized with a + severe and prolonged fit of sneezing. Meanwhile it was evident that the + history of “Prince Grenouille” had proved extremely funny; for it was all + that Jeanne could do, as she crouched down there on the carpet, to keep + herself from bursting into a wild fit of laughter. But when she had + finished with the prince and princess of the story, and the multitude of + their children, she assumed a very suppliant expression, and begged me as + a great favour to allow her to put on a white apron and go to the kitchen + to help in getting the dinner ready. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne,” I replied, with the gravity of a master, “I think that if it is + a question of breaking plates, knocking off the edges of dishes, denting + all the pans, and smashing all the skimmers, the person whom Therese has + set to work in the kitchen already will be able to perform her task + without assistance; for it seems to me at this very moment I can hear + disastrous noises in that kitchen. But anyhow, Jeanne, I will charge you + with the duty of preparing the dessert. So go and get your white apron; I + will tie it on for you.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, I solemnly knotted the linen apron about her waist; and she + rushed into the kitchen, where she proceeded at once—as we + discovered later on—to prepare various dishes unknown to Vatel, + unknown even to that great Careme who began his treatise upon pieces + montees with these words: “The Fine Arts are five in number: Painting, + Music, Poetry, Sculpture, and Architecture—whereof the principal + branch is Confectionery.” But I had no reason to be pleased with this + little arrangement—for Mademoiselle Prefere, on finding herself + alone with me, began to act after a fashion which filled me with frightful + anxiety. She gazed upon me with eyes full of tears and flames, and uttered + enormous sighs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how I pity you!” she said. “A man like you—a man so superior as + you are—having to live alone with a coarse servant (for she is + certainly coarse, that is incontestable)! How cruel such a life must be! + You have need of repose—you have need of comfort, of care, of every + kind of attention; you might fall sick. And yet there is no woman who + would not deem it an honour to bear your name, and to share your + existence. No, there is none; my own heart tells me so.” + </p> + <p> + And she squeezed both hands over that heart of hers—always so ready + to fly away. + </p> + <p> + I was driven almost to distraction. I tried to make Mademoiselle Prefere + comprehend that I had no intention whatever of changing my habits at so + advanced an age, and that I found just as much happiness in life as my + character and my circumstances rendered possible. + </p> + <p> + “No, you are not happy!” she cried. “You need to have always beside you a + mind capable of comprehending your own. Shake off your lethargy, and cast + your eyes about you. Your professional connections are of the most + extended character, and you must have charming acquaintances. One cannot + be a Member of the Institute without going into society. See, judge, + compare. No sensible woman would refuse you her hand. I am a woman, + Monsieur; my instinct never deceives me—there is something within me + which assures me that you would find happiness in marriage. Women are so + devoted, so loving (not all, of course, but some)! And, then, they are so + sensitive to glory. Remember that at your age one has need, like Oedipus, + of an Egeria! Your cook is no longer able—she is deaf, she is + infirm. If anything should happen to you at night! Oh! it makes me shudder + even to think of it!” + </p> + <p> + And she really shuddered—she closed her eyes, clenched her hands, + stamped on the floor. Great was my dismay. With awful intensity she + resumed, + </p> + <p> + “Your health—your dear health! The health of a Member of the + Institute! How joyfully I would shed the very last drop of my blood to + preserve the life of a scholar, of a litterateur, of a man of worth. And + any woman who would not do as much, I should despise her! Let me tell you, + Monsieur—I used to know the wife of a great mathematician, a man who + used to fill whole note-books with calculations—so many note-books + that they filled all the cupboards in the house. He had heart-disease, and + he was visibly pining away. And I saw that wife of his, sitting there + beside him, perfectly calm! I could not endure it. I said to her one day, + ‘My dear, you have no heart! If I were in your place I should...I + should...I do not know what I should do!’” + </p> + <p> + She paused for want of breath. My situation was terrible. As for telling + Mademoiselle Prefere what I really thought about her advice—that was + something which I could not even dream of daring to do. For to fall out + with her was to lose the chance of seeing Jeanne. So I resolved to take + the matter quietly. In any case, she was in my house: that consideration + helped me to treat her with something of courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “I am very old, Mademoiselle,” I answered her, “and I am very much afraid + that your advice comes to me rather late in life. Still, I will think + about it. In the meanwhile let me beg of you to be calm. I think a glass + of eau sucree would do you good!” + </p> + <p> + To my great surprise, these words calmed her at once; and I saw her sit + down very quietly in HER corner, close to HER pigeon-hole, upon HER chair, + with her feet upon HER footstool. + </p> + <p> + The dinner was a complete failure. Mademoiselle Prefere, who seemed lost + in a brown study, never noticed the fact. As a rule I am very sensitive + about such misfortunes; but this one caused Jeanne so much delight that at + last I could not help enjoying it myself. Even at my age I had not been + able to learn before that a chicken, raw on one side and burned on the + other, was a funny thing; but Jeanne’s bursts of laughter taught me that + it was. That chicken caused us to say a thousand very witty things, which + I have forgotten; and I was enchanted that it had not been properly + cooked. Jeanne put it back to roast again; then she broiled it; then she + stewed it with butter. And every time it came back to the table it was + much less appetising and much more mirth-provoking than before. When we + did eat it, at last, it had become a thing for which there is no name in + any cuisine. + </p> + <p> + The almond cake was much more extraordinary. It was brought to the table + in the pan, because it never could have got out of it. I invited Jeanne to + help us all to a piece thinking that I was going to embarrass her; but she + broke the pan and gave each of us a fragment. To think that anybody at my + age could eat such things was an idea possible only to the very artless + mind. Mademoiselle Prefere, suddenly awakened from her dream, indignantly + pushed away the sugary splinter of earthenware, and deemed it opportune to + inform me that she herself was exceedingly skilful in making + confectionery. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed Jeanne, with an air of surprise not altogether without + malice. Then she wrapped all the fragments of the pan in a piece of paper, + for the purpose of giving them to her little playmates—especially to + the three little Mouton girls, who are naturally inclined to gluttony. + </p> + <p> + Secretly, however, I was beginning to feel very uneasy. It did not now + seem in any way possible to keep much longer upon good terms with + Mademoiselle Prefere since her matrimonial fury had this burst forth. And + that lady affronted, good-bye to Jeanne! I took advantage of a moment + while the sweet soul was busy putting on her cloak, in order to ask Jeanne + to tell me exactly what her own age was. She was eighteen years and one + month old. I counted on my fingers, and found she would not come of age + for another two years and eleven months. And how should we be able to + manage during all that time? + </p> + <p> + At the door Mademoiselle Prefere squeezed my hand with so much meaning + that I fairly shook from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” I said very gravely to the young girl. “But listen to me a + moment: your friend is very old, and might perhaps fail you when you need + him most. Promise me never to fail in your duty to yourself, and then I + shall have no fear. God keep you, my child!” + </p> + <p> + After closing the door behind them, I opened the window to get a last look + at her as she was going away. But the night was dark, and I could see only + two vague shadows flitting across the quay. I heard the vast deep hom of + the city rising up about me; and I suddenly felt a great sinking at my + heart. + </p> + <p> + Poor child! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + December 15. + </h2> + <p> + The King of Thule kept a goblet of gold which his dying mistress had + bequeathed him as a souvenir. When about to die himself, after having + drunk from it for the last time, he threw the goblet into the sea. And I + keep this diary of memories even as that old prince of the mist-haunted + seas kept his carven goblet; and even as he flung away at last his + love-pledge, so will I burn this book of souvenirs. Assuredly it is not + through any arrogant avarice nor through any egotistical pride, that I + shall destroy this record of a humble life—it is only because I fear + lest those things which are dear and sacred to me might appear before + others, because of my inartistic manner of expression, either commonplace + or absurd. + </p> + <p> + I do not say this in view of what is going to follow. Absurd I certainly + must have been when, having been invited to dinner by Mademoiselle + Prefere, I took my seat in a bergere (it was really a bergere) at the + right hand of that alarming person. The table had been set in a little + parlour; and I could observe from the poor way in which it was set out + that the schoolmistress was one of those ethereal souls who soar above + terrestrial things. Chipped plates, unmatched glasses, knives with loose + handles, forks with yellow prongs—there was absolutely nothing + wanting to spoil the appetite of an honest man. + </p> + <p> + I was assured that the dinner had been cooked for me—for me alone—although + Maitre Mouche had also been invited. Mademoiselle Prefere must have + imagined that I had Sarmatian tastes on the subject of butter; for that + which she offered me, served up in little thin pats, was excessively + rancid. + </p> + <p> + The roast very nearly poisoned me. But I had the pleasure of hearing + Maitre Mouche and Mademoiselle Prefere discourse upon virtue. I said the + pleasure—I ought to have said the shame; for the sentiments to which + they gave expression soared far beyond the range of my vulgar nature. + </p> + <p> + What they said proved to me as clear as day that devotedness was their + daily bread, and that self-sacrifice was not less necessary to their + existence than air and water. Observing that I was not eating, + Mademoiselle Prefere made a thousand efforts to overcome that which she + was good enough to term my “discretion.” Jeanne was not of the party, + because, I was told, her presence at it would have been contrary to the + rules, and would have wounded the feelings of the other school-children, + among whom it was necessary to maintain a certain equality. I secretly + congratulated her upon having escaped from the Merovingian butter; from + the huge radishes, empty as funeral-urns; form the leathery roast, and + from various other curiosities of diet to which I had exposed myself for + the love of her. + </p> + <p> + The extremely disconsolate-looking servant served up some liquid to which + they gave the name of cream—I do not know why—and vanished + away like a ghost. + </p> + <p> + Then Mademoiselle Prefere related to Maitre Mouche, with extraordinary + transports of emotion, all that she had said to me in the City of Books, + during the time that my housekeeper was sick in bed. Her admiration for a + Member of the Institute, her terror lest I should be taken ill while + unattended, and the certainty she felt that any intelligent woman would be + proud and happy to share my existence—she concealed nothing, but, on + the contrary, added many fresh follies to the recital. Maitre Mouche kept + nodding his head in approval while cracking nuts. Then, after all this + verbiage, he demanded, with an agreeable smile, what my answer had been. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere, pressing her hand upon her heart and extending the + other towards me, cried out, + </p> + <p> + “He is so affectionate, so superior, so good, and so great! He answered... + But I could never, because I am only a humble woman—I could never + repeat the words of a Member of the Institute. I can only utter the + substance of them. He answered, ‘Yes, I understand you—yes.’” + </p> + <p> + And with these words she reached out and seized one of my hands. Then + Maitre Mouche, also overwhelmed with emotion, arose and seized my other + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said, “permit me to offer my congratulations.” + </p> + <p> + Several times in my life I have known fear; but never before had I + experienced any fright of so nauseating a character. A sickening terror + came upon me. + </p> + <p> + I disengaged by two hands, and, rising to my feet, so as to give all + possible seriousness to my words, I said, + </p> + <p> + “Madame, either I explained myself very badly when you were at my house, + or I have totally misunderstood you here in your own. In either case, a + positive declaration is absolutely necessary. Permit me, Madame, to make + it now, very plainly. No—I never did understand you; I am totally + ignorant of the nature of this marriage project that you have been + planning for me—if you really have been planning one. In any event, + I should not think of marrying. It would be unpardonable folly at my age, + and even now, at this moment, I cannot conceive how a sensible person like + you could ever have advised me to marry. Indeed, I am strongly inclined to + believe that I must have been mistaken, and that you never said anything + of the kind before. In the latter case, please excuse an old man totally + unfamiliar with the usages of society, unaccustomed to the conversation of + ladies, and very contrite for his mistake.” + </p> + <p> + Maitre Mouche went back very softly to his place, where, not finding any + more nuts to crack, he began to whittle a cork. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Prefere, after staring at me for a few moments with an + expression in her little round dry eyes which I had never seen there + before, suddenly resumed her customary sweetness and graciousness. Then + she cried out in honeyed tones, + </p> + <p> + “Oh! these learned men!—these studious men! They are like children. + Yes, Monsieur Bonnard, you are a real child!” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to the notary, who still sat very quietly in his corner, + with his nose over his cork, she exclaimed, in beseeching tones, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not accuse him! Do not accuse him! Do not think any evil of him, I + beg of you! Do not think it at all! Must I ask you upon my knees?” + </p> + <p> + Maitre Mouche continued to examine all the various aspects and surfaces of + his cork without making any further manifestation. + </p> + <p> + I was very indignant; and I know that my cheeks must have been extremely + red, if I could judge by the flush of heat which I felt rise to my face. + This would enable me to explain the words I heard through all the buzzing + in my ears: + </p> + <p> + “I am frightened about him! our poor friend!... Monsieur Mouche, be kind + enough to open a window! It seems to me that a compress of arnica would do + him some good.” + </p> + <p> + I rushed out into the street with an unspeakable feeling of shame. + </p> + <p> + “My poor Jeanne!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + December 20. + </h2> + <p> + I passed eight days without hearing anything further in regard to the + Prefere establishment. Then, feeling myself unable to remain any longer + without some news of Clementine’s daughter, and feeling furthermore that I + owed it as a duty to myself not to cease my visits with the school without + more serious cause, I took my way to Les Ternes. + </p> + <p> + The parlour seemed to me more cold, more damp, more inhospitable, and more + insidious than ever before; and the servant much more silent and much more + scared. I asked to see Mademoiselle Jeanne; but, after a very considerable + time, it was Mademoiselle Prefere who made her appearance instead—severe + and pale, with lips compressed and a hard look in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, folding her arms over her pelerine, “I regret very + much that I cannot allow you to see Mademoiselle Alexandre to-day; but I + cannot possibly do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” I asked in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she replied, “the reasons which compel me to request that your + visits shall be less frequent hereafter are of an excessively delicate + nature; and I must beg you to spare me the unpleasantness of mentioning + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I replied, “I have been authorized by Jeanne’s guardian to see + his ward every day. Will you please to inform me of your reasons for + opposing the will of Monsieur Mouche?” + </p> + <p> + “The guardian of Mademoiselle Alexandre,” she replied (and she dwelt upon + that word “guardian” as upon a solid support), “desires, quite as strongly + as I myself do, that your assiduities may come to an end as soon as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if that be the case,” I said, “be kind enough to let me know his + reasons and your own.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at the little spiral of paper on the ceiling, and then + replied, with stern composure, + </p> + <p> + “You insist upon it? Well, although such explanations are very painful for + a woman to make, I will yield to your exaction. This house, Monsieur is an + honourable house. I have my responsibility. I have to watch like a mother + over each one of my pupils. Your assiduities in regard to Mademoiselle + Alexandre could not possibly be continued without serious injury to the + young girl herself; and it is my duty to insist that they shall cease.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not really understand you,” I replied—and I was telling the + plain truth. Then she deliberately resumed: + </p> + <p> + “Your assiduities in this house are being interpreted, by the most + respectable and the least suspicious persons, in such a manner that I find + myself obliged, both in the interest of my establishment and in the + interest of Mademoiselle Alexandre, to see that they end at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I cried, “I have heard a great many silly things in my life, but + never anything so silly as what you have just said!” + </p> + <p> + She answered me quietly, + </p> + <p> + “Your words of abuse will not affect me in the slightest. When one has a + duty to accomplish, one is strong enough to endure all.” + </p> + <p> + And she pressed her pelerine over her heart once more—not perhaps on + this occasion to restrain, but doubtless only to caress that generous + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I said, shaking my finger at her, “you have wantonly aroused the + indignation of an aged man. Be good enough to act in such a fashion that + the old man may be able at least to forget your existence, and do not add + fresh insults to those which I have already sustained from your lips. I + give you fair warning that I shall never cease to look after Mademoiselle + Alexandre; and that should you attempt to do her any harm, in any manner + whatsoever, you will have serious reason to regret it!” + </p> + <p> + The more I became excited, the more she became cool; and she answered in a + tone of superb indifference: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I am much too well informed in regard to the nature of the + interest which you take in this young girl, not to withdraw her + immediately from that very surveillance with which you threaten me. After + observing the more than equivocal intimacy in which you are living with + your housekeeper, I ought to have taken measures at once to render it + impossible for you ever to come into contact with an innocent child. In + the future I shall certainly do it. If up to this time I have been too + trustful, it is for Mademoiselle Alexandre, and not for you, to reproach + me with it. But she is too artless and too pure—thanks to me!—ever + to have suspected the nature of that danger into which you were trying to + lead her. I scarcely suppose that you will place me under the necessity of + enlightening her upon the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my poor old Bonnard,” I said to myself, as I shrugged my shoulders—“so + you had to live as long as this in order to learn for the first time + exactly what a wicked woman is. And now your knowledge of the subject is + complete.” + </p> + <p> + I went out without replying; and I had the pleasure of observing, from the + sudden flush which overspread the face of the schoolmistress, that my + silence had wounded her far more than my words. + </p> + <p> + As I passed through the court I looked about me in every direction for + Jeanne. She was watching for me, and she ran to me. + </p> + <p> + “If anybody touches one little hair of your head, Jeanne, write to me! + Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + “No, not good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + I replied, + </p> + <p> + “Well, no—not good-bye! Write to me!” + </p> + <p> + I went straight to Madame de Gabry’s residence. + </p> + <p> + “Madame is at Rome with Monsieur. Did not Monsieur know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” I replied. “Madame wrote to me.”... + </p> + <p> + She had indeed written to me in regard to her leaving home; but my head + must have become very much confused, so that I had forgotten all about it. + The servant seemed to be of the same opinion, for he looked at me in a way + that seemed to signify, “Monsieur Bonnard is doting”—and he leaned + down over the balustrade of the stairway to see if I was not going to do + something extraordinary before I got to the bottom. But I descended the + stairs rationally enough; and then he drew back his head in + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + On returning home I was informed that Monsieur Gelis was waiting for me in + the parlour. (This young man has become a constant visitor. His judgement + is at fault at times; but his mind is not at all commonplace.) On this + occasion, however, his usually welcome visit only embarrassed me. “Alas!” + I thought to myself, “I shall be sure to say something very stupid to my + young friend to-day, and he also will think that my facilities are + becoming impaired. But still I cannot really explain to him that I had + first been demanded in wedlock, and subsequently traduced as a man wholly + devoid of morals—that even Therese had become an object of suspicion—and + that Jeanne remains in the power of the most rascally woman on the face of + the earth. I am certainly in an admirable state of mind for conversing + about Cistercian abbeys with a young and mischievously minded man. + Nevertheless, we shall see—we shall try.”... + </p> + <p> + But Therese stopped me: + </p> + <p> + “How red you are, Monsieur!” she exclaimed, in a tone of reproach. + </p> + <p> + “It must be the spring,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + She cried out, + </p> + <p> + “The spring!—in the month of December?” + </p> + <p> + That is a fact! this is December. Ah! what is the matter with my head? + what a fine help I am going to be to poor Jeanne! + </p> + <p> + “Therese, take my cane; and put it, if you possibly can, in some place + where I shall be able to find it again. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, Monsieur Gelis. How are you?” + </p> + <p> + Undated. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the old boy wanted to get up; but the old boy could not get + up. A merciless invisible hand kept him down upon his bed. Finding himself + immovably riveted there, the old boy resigned himself to remain + motionless; but his thoughts kept running in all directions. + </p> + <p> + He must have had a very violent fever; for Mademoiselle Prefere, the + Abbots of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, and the servant of Madame de Gabry + appeared to him in divers fantastic shapes. The figure of the servant in + particular lengthened weirdly over his head, grimacing like some gargoyle + of a cathedral. Then it seemed to me that there were a great many people, + much too many people, in my bedroom. + </p> + <p> + This bedroom of mine is furnished after the antiquated fashion. The + portrait of my father in full uniform, and the portrait of my mother in + her cashmere dress, are suspended on the wall. The wall-paper is covered + with green foliage designs. I am aware of all this, and I am even + conscious that everything is faded, very much faded. But an old man’s room + does not require to be pretty; it is enough that it should be clean, and + Therese sees to that. At all events my room is sufficiently decorated to + please a mind like mine, which has always remained somewhat childish and + dreamy. There are things hanging on the wall or scattered over the tables + and shelves which usually please my fancy and amuse me. But to-day it + would seem as if all those objects had suddenly conceived some kind of + ill-will against me. They have all become garish, grimacing, menacing. + That statuette, modelled after one of the Theological Virtues of + Notre-Dame de Brou, always so ingenuously graceful in its natural + condition, is now making contortions and putting out its tongue at me. And + that beautiful miniature—in which one of the most skilful pupils of + Jehan Fouquet depicted himself, girdled with the cord-girdle of the Sons + of St. Francis, offering his book, on bended knee, to the good Duc + d’Angouleme—who has taken it out of its frame and put in its place a + great ugly cat’s head, which stares at me with phosphorescent eyes. And + the designs on the wall-paper have also turned into heads—hideous + green heads.... But no—I am sure that wall-paper must have + foliage-designs upon it at this moment just as it had twenty years ago, + and nothing else.... But no, again—I was right before—they are + heads, with eyes, noses, mouths—they are heads!... Ah! now I + understand! they are both heads and foliage-designs at the same time. I + wish I could not see them at all. + </p> + <p> + And there, on my right, the pretty miniature of the Franciscan has come + back again; but it seems to me as if I can only keep it in its frame by a + tremendous effort of will, and that the moment I get tired the ugly + cat-head will appear in its place. Certainly I am not delirious; I can see + Therese very plainly, standing at the foot of my bed; I can hear her + speaking to me perfectly well, and I should be able to answer her quite + satisfactorily if I were not kept so busy in trying to compel the various + objects about me to maintain their natural aspect. + </p> + <p> + Here is the doctor coming. I never sent for him, but it gives me pleasure + to see him. He is an old neighbor of mine; I have never been of much + service to him, but I like him very much. Even if I do not say much to + him, I have at least full possession of all my faculties, and I even find + myself extraordinarily crafty and observant to-day, for I note all his + gestures, his every look, the least wrinkling of his face. But the doctor + is very cunning, too, and I cannot really tell what he thinks about me. + The deep thought of Goethe suddenly comes to my mind and I exclaim, + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, the old man has consented to allow himself to become sick; but he + does not intend, this time at least, to make any further concessions to + nature.” + </p> + <p> + Neither the doctor nor Therese laughs at my little joke. I suppose they + cannot have understood it. + </p> + <p> + The doctor goes away; evening comes; and all sorts of strange shadows + begin to shape themselves about my bed-curtains, forming and dissolving by + turns. And other shadows—ghosts—throng by before me; and + through them I can see distinctively the impassive face of my faithful + servant. And suddenly a cry, a shrill cry, a great cry of distress, rends + my ears. Was it you who called me Jeanne? + </p> + <p> + The day is over; and the shadows take their places at my bedside to remain + with me all through the long night. + </p> + <p> + Then morning comes—I feel a peace, a vast peace, wrapping me all + about. + </p> + <p> + Art Thou about to take me into Thy rest, my dear Lord God? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + February 186-. + </h2> + <p> + The doctor is quite jovial. It seems that I am doing him a great deal of + credit by being able to get out of bed. If I must believe him, innumerable + disorders must have pounced down upon my poor old body all at the same + time. + </p> + <p> + These disorders, which are the terror of ordinary mankind, have names + which are the terror of philologists. They are hybrid names, half Greek, + half Latin, with terminations in “itis,” indicating the inflammatory + condition, and in “algia,” indicating pain. The doctor gives me all their + names, together with a corresponding number of adjectives ending in “ic,” + which serve to characterise their detestable qualities. In short, they + represent a good half of that most perfect copy of the Dictionary of + Medicine contained in the too-authentic box of Pandora. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, what an excellent common-sense story the story of Pandora is!—if + I were a poet I would put it into French verse. Shake hands, doctor! You + have brought me back to life; I forgive you for it. You have given me back + to my friends; I thank you for it. You say I am quite strong. That may be, + that may be; but I have lasted a very long time. I am a very old article + of furniture; I might be very satisfactorily compared to my father’s + arm-chair. It was an arm-chair which the good man had inherited, and in + which he used to lounge from morning until evening. Twenty times a day, + when I was quite a baby, I used to climb up and seat myself on one of the + arms of that old-fashioned chair. So long as the chair remained intact, + nobody paid any particular attention to it. But it began to limp on one + foot and then folks began to say that it was a very good chair. Afterwards + it became lame in three legs, squeaked with the fourth leg, and lost + nearly half of both arms. Then everybody would exclaim, ‘What a strong + chair!’ They wondered how it was that after its arms had been worn off and + all its legs knocked out of perpendicular, it could yet preserve the + recognisable shape of a chair, remains nearly erect, and still be of some + service. The horse-hair came out of its body at last, and it gave up the + ghost. And when Cyprien, our servant, sawed up its mutilated members for + fire-wood, everybody redoubled their cries of admiration. Oh! what an + excellent—what a marvellous chair! It was the chair of Pierre + Sylvestre Bonnard, the cloth merchant—of Epimenide Bonnard, his son—of + Jean-Baptiste Bonnard, the Pyrrhonian philosopher and Chief of the Third + Maritime Division. Oh! what a robust and venerable chair!’ In reality it + was a dead chair. Well, doctor, I am that chair. You think I am solid + because I have been able to resist an attack which would have killed many + people, and which only three-fourths killed me. Much obliged! I feel none + the less that I am something which has been irremediably damaged.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor tries to prove to me, with the help of enormous Greek and Latin + words, that I am really in a very good condition. It would, of course, be + useless to attempt any demonstration of this kind in so lucid a language + as French. However, I allow him to persuade me at last; and I see him to + the door. + </p> + <p> + “Good! good!” exclaimed Therese; “that is the way to put the doctor out of + the house! Just do the same thing once or twice again, and he will not + come to see you any more—and so much the better?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Therese, now that I have become such a hearty man again, do not + refuse to give me my letters. I am sure there must be quite a big bundle + of letters, and it would be very wicked to keep me any longer from reading + them.” + </p> + <p> + Therese, after some little grumbling, gave me my letters. But what did it + matter?—I looked at all the envelopes, and saw that no one of them + had been addressed by the little hand which I so much wish I could see + here now, turning over the pages of the Vecellio. I pushed the whole + bundle of letters away: they had no more interest for me. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + April-June + </h2> + <p> + It was a hotly contested engagement. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Monsieur, until I have put on my clean things,” exclaimed Therese, + “and I will go out with you this time also; I will carry your + folding-stool as I have been doing these last few days, and we will go and + sit down somewhere in the sun.” + </p> + <p> + Therese actually thinks me infirm. I have been sick, it is true, but there + is an end to all things! Madame Malady has taken her departure quite + awhile ago, and it is now more than three months since her pale and + gracious-visaged handmaid, Dame Convalescence, politely bade me farewell. + If I were to listen to my housekeeper, I should become a veritable + Monsieur Argant, and I should wear a nightcap with ribbons for the rest of + my life.... No more of this!—I propose to go out by myself! Therese + will not hear of it. She takes my folding-stool, and wants to follow me. + </p> + <p> + “Therese, to-morrow, if you like, we will take our seats on the sunny side + of the wall of La Petite Provence and stay there just as long as you + please. But to-day I have some very important affairs to attend to.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better! But your affairs are not the only affairs in this + world.” + </p> + <p> + I beg; I scold; I make my escape. + </p> + <p> + It is quite a pleasant day. With the aid of a cab and the help of almighty + God, I trust to be able to fulfil my purpose. + </p> + <p> + There is the wall on which is painted in great blue letters the words + “Pensionnat de Demoiselles tenu par Mademoiselle Virginie Prefere.” There + is the iron gate which would give free entrance into the court-yard if it + were ever opened. But the lock is rusty, and sheets of zinc put up behind + the bars protect the indiscreet observation those dear little souls to + whom Mademoiselle Prefere doubtless teaches modesty, sincerity, justice, + and disinterestedness. There is a window, with iron bars before it, and + panes daubed over with white paint—the window of the domestic + offices, like a glazed eye—the only aperture of the building opening + upon the exterior world. As for the house-door, through which I entered so + often, but which is now closed against me for ever, it is just as I saw it + the last time, with its little iron-grated wicket. The single stone step + in front of it is deeply worn, and, without having very good eyes behind + my spectacles, I can see the little white scratches on the stone which + have been made by the nails in the shoes of the girls going in and out. + And why cannot I also go in? I have a feeling that Jeanne must be + suffering a great deal in this dismal house, and that she calls my name in + secret. I cannot go away from the gate! A strange anxiety takes hold of + me. I pull the bell. The scared-looking servant comes to the door, even + more scared-looking than when I saw her the last time. Strict orders have + been given; I am not to be allowed to see Mademoiselle Jeanne. I beg the + servant to be so kind as to tell me how the child is. The servant, after + looking to her right and then to her left, tells me that Mademoiselle + Jeanne is well, and then shuts the door in my face. And I am all alone in + the street again. + </p> + <p> + How many times since then have I wandered in the same way under that wall, + and passed before the little door,—full of shame and despair to find + myself even weaker than that poor child, who has no other help of friend + except myself in the world! + </p> + <p> + Finally I overcame my repugnance sufficiently to call upon Maitre Mouche. + The first thing I remarked was that his office is much more dusty and much + more mouldy this year that it was last year. The notary made his + appearance after a moment, with his familiar stiff gestures, and his + restless eyes quivering behind his eye-glasses. I made my complaints to + him. He answered me.... But why should I write down, even in a notebook + which I am going to burn, my recollections of a downright scoundrel? He + takes sides with Mademoiselle Prefere, whose intelligent mind and + irreproachable character he has long appreciated. He does not feel himself + in a position to decide the nature of the question at issue; but he must + assure me that appearances have been greatly against me. That of course + makes no difference to me. He adds—(and this does make some sense to + me)—that the small sum which had been placed in his hands to defray + the expenses of the education of his ward has been expended, and that, in + view of the circumstances, he cannot but gently admire the + disinterestedness of Mademoiselle Prefere in consenting to allow + Mademoiselle Jeanne to remain with her. + </p> + <p> + A magnificent light, the light of a perfect day, floods the sordid place + with its incorruptible torrent, and illuminates teh person of that man! + </p> + <p> + And outside it pours down its splendour upon all the wretchedness of a + populous quarter. + </p> + <p> + How sweet it is,—this light with which my eyes have so long been + filled, and which ere long I must for ever cease to enjoy! I wander out + with my hands behind me, dreaming as I go, following the line of the + fortifications; and I find myself after awhile, I know not how, in an + out-of-the-way suburb full of miserable little gardens. By the dusty + roadside I observe a plant whose flower, at once dark and splendid, seems + worthy of association with the noblest and purest mourning for the dead. + It is a columbine. Our fathers called it “Our Lady’s Glove”—le gant + de Notre-Dame. Only such a “Notre-Dame” as might make herself very, very + small, for the sake of appearing to little children, could ever slip her + dainty fingers into the narrow capsue of that flower. + </p> + <p> + And there is a big bumble-bee who tries to force himself into the flower, + brutally; but his mouth cannot reach the nectar, and the poor glutton + strives and strives in vain. He has to give up the attempt, and comes out + of the flower all smeared over with pollen. He flies off in his own heavy + lumbering way; but there are not many flowers in this portion of the + suburbs, which has been defiled by the soot and smoke of factories. So he + comes back to the columbine again, and this time he pierces the corolla + and sucks the honey through the little hole which he has made; I should + never have thought that a bumble-bee had so much sense! Why, that is + admirable! The more I observe, them, the more do insects and flowers fill + me with astonishment. I am like that good Rollin who went wild with + delight over the flowers of his peach-trees. I wish I could have a fine + garden, and live at the verge of a wood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August, September. + </h2> + <p> + It occurred to me one Sunday morning to watch for the moment when + Mademoiselle Prefere’s pupils were leaving the school in procession to + attend Mass at the parish church. I watched them passing two by two,—the + little ones first with very serious faces. There were three of them all + dressed exactly alike—dumpy, plump, important-looking little + creatures, whom I recognized at once as the Mouton girls. Their elder + sister is the artist who drew that terrible head of Tatius, King of the + Sabines. Beside the column, the assistant school-teacher, with her + prayer-book in her hand, was gesturing and frowning. Then came the next + oldest class, and finally the big girls, all whispering to each other, as + they went by. But I did not see Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + I went to police-headquarters and inquired whether they chanced to have, + filed away somewhere or other, any information regarding the establishment + in the Rue Demours. I succeeded in inducing them to send some female + inspectors there. These returned bringing with them the most favourable + reports about the establishment. In their opinion the Prefere School was a + model school. It is evident that if I were to force an investigation, + Mademoiselle Prefere would receive academic honours. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + October 3. + </h2> + <p> + This Thursday being a school-holiday I had teh chance of meeting the three + little Mouton girls in the vicinity of the Rue Demours. After bowing to + their mother, I asked the eldest who appears to be about ten years old, + how was her playmate, Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre. + </p> + <p> + The little Mouton girl answered me, all in a breath, + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne Alexandre is not my playmate. She is only kept in the school for + charity—so they make her sweep the class-rooms. It was Mademoiselle + who said so. And Jeanne Alexandre is a bad girl; so they lock her up in + the dark room—and it serves her right—and I am a good girl—and + I am never locked up in the dark room.” + </p> + <p> + The three little girls resumed their walk, and Madame Mouton followed + close behind them, looking back over her broad shoulder at me, in a very + suspicious manner. + </p> + <p> + Alas! I find myself reduced to expedients of a questionable character. + Madame de Gabry will not come back to Paris for at least three months + more, at the very soonest. Without her, I have no tact, I have no common + sense—I am nothing but a cumbersome, clumsy, mischief-making + machine. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I cannot possibly permit them to make Jeanne a + boarding-school servant! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + December 28. + </h2> + <p> + The idea that Jeanne was obliged to sweep the rooms had become absolutely + unbearable. + </p> + <p> + The weather was dark and cold. Night had already begun. I rang the + school-door bell with the tranquillity of a resolute man. The moment that + the timid servant opened the door, I slipped a gold piece into her hand, + and promised her another if she would arrange matters so that I could see + Mademoiselle Alexandre. Her answer was, + </p> + <p> + “In one hour from now, at the grated window.” + </p> + <p> + And she slammed the door in my face so rudely that she knocked my hat into + the gutter. I waited for one very long hour in a violent snow-storm; then + I approached the window. Nothing! The wind raged, and the snow fell + heavily. Workmen passing by with their implements on their shoulders, and + their heads bent down to keep the snow from coming in their faces, rudely + jostled me. Still nothing. I began to fear I had been observed. I knew + that I had done wrong in bribing a servant, but I was not a bit sorry for + it. Woe to the man who does not know how to break through social + regulations in case of necessity! Another quarter of an hour passed. + Nothing. At last the window was partly opened. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Monsieur Bonnard?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Jeanne?—tell me at once what has become of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am well—very well.” + </p> + <p> + “But what else!” + </p> + <p> + “They have put me in the kitchen, and I have to sweep the school-rooms.” + </p> + <p> + “In the kitchen! Sweeping—you! Gracious goodness!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because my guardian does not pay for my schooling any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious goodness! Your guardian seems to me to be a thorough scoundrel.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know—-” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t ask me to tell you that!—but I would rather die than find + myself alone with him again.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you not write to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I was watched.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant I formed a resolve which nothing in this world could have + induced me to change. I did, indeed, have some idea that I might be acting + contrary to law; but I did not give myself the least concern about that + idea. And, being firmly resolved, I was able to be prudent. I acted with + remarkable coolness. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne,” I asked, “tell me! does that room you are in open into the + court-yard?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you open the street-door from the inside yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—if there is nobody in the porter’s lodge.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and see if there is any one there, and be careful that nobody observes + you.” + </p> + <p> + Then I waited, keeping a watch on the door and window. + </p> + <p> + In six or seven seconds Jeanne reappeared behind the bars, and said, + </p> + <p> + “The servant is in the porter’s lodge.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, “have you a pen and ink?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “A pencil?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Pass it out here.” + </p> + <p> + I took an old newspaper out of my pocket, and—in a wind which blew + almost hard enough to put the street-lamps out, in a downpour of snow + which almost blinded me—I managed to wrap up and address that paper + to Mademoiselle Prefere. + </p> + <p> + While I was writing I asked Jeanne, + </p> + <p> + “When the postman passes he puts the papers and letters in the box, + doesn’t he? He rings the bell and goes away? Then the servant opens the + letter-box and takes whatever she finds there to Mademoiselle Prefere + immediately; is not that about the way the thing is managed whenever + anything comes by post?” + </p> + <p> + Jeanne thought it was. + </p> + <p> + “Then we shall soon see. Jeanne, go and watch again; and, as soon as the + servant leaves the lodge, open the door and come out here to me.” + </p> + <p> + Having said this, I put my newspaper in the box, gave the bell a + tremendous pull, and then hid myself in the embrasure of a neighbouring + door. + </p> + <p> + I might have been there several minutes, when the little door quivered, + then opened, and a young girl’s head made its appearance through the + opening. I took hold of it; I pulled it towards me. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Jeanne! come!” + </p> + <p> + She stared at me uneasily. Certainly she must have been afraid that I had + gone mad; but, on the contrary, I was very rational indeed. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my child! come!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “To Madame de Gabry’s.” + </p> + <p> + Then she took my arm. For some time we ran like a couple of thieves. But + running is an exercise ill-suited to one as corpulent as I am, and, + finding myself out of breath at last, I stopped and leaned upon something + which turned out to be the stove of a dealer in roasted chestnuts, who was + doing business at the corner of a wine-seller’s shop, where a number of + cabmen were drinking. One of them asked us if we did not want a cab. Most + assuredly we wanted a cab! The driver, after setting down his glass on the + zinc counter, climbed upon his seat and urged his horse forward. We were + saved. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” I panted, wiping my forehead. For, in spite of the cold, I was + perspiring profusely. + </p> + <p> + What seemed very odd was that Jeanne appeared to be much more conscious + than I was of the enormity which we had committed. She looked very serious + indeed, and was visibly uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “In the kitchen!” I cried out, with indignation. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, as if to say, “Well, there or anywhere else, what does + it matter to me?” And by the light of the street-lamps, I observed with + pain that her face was very thin and her features all pinched. I did not + find in her any of that vivacity, any of those bright impulses, any of + that quickness of expression, which used to please me so much. Her gaze + had become timid, her gestures constrained, her whole attitude melancholy. + I took her hand—a little cold hand, which had become all hardened + and bruised. The poor child must have suffered very much. I questioned + her. She told me very quietly that Mademoiselle Prefere had summoned her + one day, and called her a little monster and a little viper, for some + reason which she had never been able to learn. + </p> + <p> + She had added, “You shall not see Monsieur Bonnard any more; for he has + been giving you bad advice, and he has conducted himself in a most + shameful manner towards me.” “I then said to her, ‘That, Mademoiselle, you + will never be able to make me believe.’ Then Mademoiselle slapped my face + and sent me back to the school-room. The announcement that I should never + be allowed to see you again made me feel as if night had come down upon + me. Don’t you know those evenings when one feels so sad to see the + darkness come?—well, just imagine such a moment stretched out into + weeks—into whole months! Don’t you remember my little Saint-George? + Up to that time I had worked at it as well as I could—just simply to + work at it—just to amuse myself. But when I lost all hope of ever + seeing you again I took my little wax figure, and I began to work at it in + quite another way. I did not try to model it with wooden matches any more, + as I had been doing, but with hair pins. I even made use of epingles a la + neige. But perhaps you do not know what epingles a la neige are? Well, I + became more particular about than you can possibly imagine. I put a dragon + on Saint-George’s helmet; and I passed hours and hours in making a head + and eyes and tail for the dragon. Oh the eyes! the eyes, above all! I + never stopped working at them till I got them so that they had red pupils + and white eye-lids and eye-brows and everything! I know I am very silly; I + had an idea that I was going to die as soon as my little Saint-George + would be finished. I worked at it during recreation-hours, and + Mademoiselle Prefere used to let me alone. One day I learned that you were + in the parlour with the schoolmistress; I watched for you; we said ‘Au + revoir!’ that day to each other. I was a little consoled by seeing you. + But, some time after that, my guardian came and wanted to make me go to + his house,—but please don’t ask me why, Monsieur. He answered me, + quite gently, that I was a very whimsical little girl. And then he left me + alone. But the next day Mademoiselle Prefere came to me with such a wicked + look on her face that I was really afraid. She had a letter in her hand. + ‘Mademoiselle,’ she said to me, ‘I am informed by your guardian that he + has spent all the money which belonged to you. Don’t be afraid! I do not + intend to abandon you; but, you must acknowledge yourself, it is only + right that you should earn your own livelihood.’ Then she put me to work + house-cleaning; and whenever I made a mistake she would lock me up in the + garet for days together. And that is what has happened to me since I saw + you last. Even if I had been able to write to you I do not know whether I + should have done it, because I did not think you could possibly take me + away from the school; and, as Maitre Mouche did not come back to see me, + there was no hurry. I thought I could wait for awhile in the garret and + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne,” I cried, “even if we should have to flee to Oceania, the + abominable Prefere shall never get hold of you again. I will take a great + oath on that! And why should we not go to Oceania? The climate is very + healthy; and I read in a newspaper the other day that they have pianos + there. But, in the meantime, let us go to the house of Madame de Gabry, + who returned to Paris, as luck would have it, some three or four days ago; + for you and I are two innocent fools, and we have great need of some one + to help us.” + </p> + <p> + Even as I was speaking Jeanne’s features suddenly became pale, and seemed + to shrink into lifelessness; her eyes became all dim; her lips, half open, + contracted with an expression of pain. Then her head sank sideways on her + shoulder;—she had fainted. + </p> + <p> + I lifter her in my arms, and carried her up Madame de Gabry’s staircase + like a little baby asleep. But I was myself on the point of fainting from + emotional excitement and fatigue together, when she came to herself again. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is you.” she said: “so much the better!” + </p> + <p> + Such was our condition when we rang our friend’s door-bell. + </p> + <p> + Same day. + </p> + <p> + It was eight o’clock. Madame de Gabry, as might be supposed, was very much + surprised by our unexpected appearance. But she welcomed the old man and + the child with that glad kindness which always expresses itself in her + beautiful gestures. It seems to me,—if I might use the language of + devotion so familiar to her,—it seems to me as though some heavenly + grace streams from her hands when ever she opens them; and even the + perfume which impregnates her robes seems to inspire the sweet calm zeal + of charity and good works. Surprised she certainly was; but she asked us + no question,—and that silence seemed to me admirable. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” I said to her, “we have both come to place ourselves under your + protection. And, first of all, we are going to ask you to give us some + super—or to give Jeanne some, at least; for a moment ago, in the + carriage, she fainted from weakness. As for myself, I could not eat a bite + at this late hour without passing a night of agony in consequence. I hope + that Monsieur de Gabry is well.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is here!” she said. + </p> + <p> + And she called him immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Come in here, Paul! Come and see Monsieur Bonnard and Mademoiselle + Alexandre.” + </p> + <p> + He came. It was a pleasure for me to see his frank broad face, and to + press his strong square hand. Then we went, all four of us, into the + dining-room; and while some cold meat was being cut for Jeanne—which + she never touched notwithstanding—I related our adventure. Paul de + Gabry asked me permission to smoke his pipe, after which he listened to me + in silence. When I had finished my recital he scratched the short, stiff + beard upon his chin, and uttered a tremendous “Sacrebleu!” But, seeing + Jeanne stare at each of us in turn, with a frightened look in her face, he + added: + </p> + <p> + “We will talk about this matter to-morrow morning. Come into my study for + a moment; I have an old book to show you that I want you to tell me + something about.” + </p> + <p> + I followed him into his study, where the steel of guns and hunting knives, + suspended against the dark hangings, glimmered in the lamp-light. There, + pulling me down beside him upon a leather-covered sofa, he exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “What have you done? Great God! Do you know what you have done? Corruption + of a minor, abduction, kidnapping! You have got yourself into a nice mess! + You have simply rendered yourself liable to a sentence of imprisonment of + not less than five nor more than ten years.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” I cried; “ten years imprisonment for having saved an + innocent child.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the law!” answered Monsieur de Gabry. “You see, my dear Monsieur + Bonnard, I happen to know the Code pretty well—not because I ever + studied law as a profession, but because, as mayor of Lusance, I was + obliged to teach myself something about it in order to be able to give + information to my subordinates. Mouche is a rascal; that woman Prefere is + a vile hussy; and you are a...Well! I really cannot find a word strong + enough to signify what you are!” + </p> + <p> + After opening his bookcase, where dog-collars, riding-whips, stirrups, + spurs, cigar-boxes, and a few books of reference were indiscriminately + stowed away, he took out of it a copy of the Code, and began to turn over + the leaves. + </p> + <p> + “‘CRIMES AND MISDEMEANOURS’...‘SEQUESTRATION OF PERSONS’—that is not + your case.... ‘ABDUCTION OF MINORS’—here we are....‘ARTICLE 354’:—‘Whosever + shall, either by fraud or violence, have abducted or have caused to be + abducted any minor or minors, or shall have enticed them, or turned them + away from, or forcibly removed them, or shall have caused them to be + enticed, or turned away from or forcibly removed from the places in which + they have been placed by those to whose authority or direction they have + been submitted or confided, shall be liable to the penalty of + imprisonment. See PENAL CODE, 21 and 28.’ Here is 21:—‘The term of + imprisonment shall not be less than five years.’ 28. ‘The sentence of + imprisonment shall be considered as involving a loss of civil rights.’ Now + all that is very plain, is it not, Monsieur Bonnard?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly plain.” + </p> + <p> + “Now let us go on: ‘ARTICLE 356’:—‘In case the abductor be under the + age of 21 years at the time of the offense, he shall only be punished + with’...But we certainly cannot invoke this article in your favour. + ‘ARTICLE 357:’:—‘In case the abductor shall have married the girl by + him abducted, he can only be prosecuted at the insistence of such persons + as, according to the Civil Code, may have the right to demand that the + marriage shall be declared null; nor can he be condemned until after the + nullity of the marriage shall have been pronounced.’ I do not know whether + it is a part of your plans to marry Mademoiselle Alexandre! You can see + that the code is good-natured about it; it leaves you one door of escape. + But no—I ought not to joke with you, because really you have put + yourself in a very unfortunate position! And how could a man like you + imagine that here in Paris, in the middle of the nineteenth century, a + young girl can be abducted with absolute impunity? We are not living in + the Middle Ages now; and such things are no longer permitted by law.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not imagine,” I replied, “that abduction was lawful under the + ancient Code. You will find in Baluze a decree issued by King Cheldebert + at Cologne, either in 593 or 594, on the subject: moreover, everybody + knows that the famous ‘Ordonance de Blois,’ of May 1579, formally enacted + that any persons convicted of having suborned any son or daughter under + the age of twenty-five years, whether under promise of marriage or + otherwise, without the full knowledge, will, or consent of the father, + mother, and guardians, should be punished with death; and the ordinance + adds: ‘Et pareillement seront punis extraordinairement tous ceux qui + auront participe audit rapt, et qui auront prete conseil, confort, et aide + en aucune maniere que ce soit.’ (And in like manner shall be + extraordinarily punished all persons whomsoever, who shall have + participated in the said abduction, and who shall have given thereunto + counsel, succor, or aid in any manner whatsoever.) Those are the exact, or + very nearly the exact, terms of the ordinance. As for that article of the + Code-Napoleon which you have just told me of, and which excepts from + liability to prosecution the abductor who marries the young girl abducted + by him, it reminds me that according to the laws of Bretagne, forcible + abduction, followed by marriage, was not punished. But this usage, which + involved various abuses, was suppressed in 1720—at least I give you + the date within ten years. My memory is not very good now, and the time is + long passed when I could repeat by heart without even stopping to take + breath, fifteen hundred verses of Girart de Rousillon. + </p> + <p> + “As far as regards the Capitulary of Charlemagne, which fixes the + compensation for abduction, I have not mentioned it because I am sure that + you must remember it. So, my dear Monsieur de Gabry, you see abduction was + considered as decidedly a punishable offense under the three dynasties of + Old France. It is a very great mistake to suppose that the Middle Ages + represent a period of social chaos. You must remember, on the contrary—-” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Gabry here interrupted me: + </p> + <p> + “So,” he exclaimed, “you know of the Ordonnacne de Blois, you know Baluze, + you know Childebert, you know the Capitularies—and you don’t know + anything about the Code-Napoleon!” + </p> + <p> + I replied that, as a matter of fact, I never had read the Code; and he + looked very much surprised. + </p> + <p> + “And now do you understand,” he asked, “the extreme gravity of the action + you have committed?” + </p> + <p> + I had not indeed been yet able to understand it fully. But little by + little, with the aid of Monsieur Paul’s very sensible explanations, I + reached the conviction at last that I should not be judged in regard to my + motives, which were innocent, but only according to my action, which was + punishable. Thereupon I began to feel very despondent, and to utter divers + lamentations. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do?” I cried out, “what am I to do? Am I then irretrievably + ruined?—and have I also ruined the poor child whom I wanted to + save?” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Gabry silently filled his pipe, and lighted it so slowly that + his kind broad face remained for at least three or four minutes glowing + red behind the light, like a blacksmith’s in the gleam of his forge-fire. + Then he said, + </p> + <p> + “You want to know what to do? Why, don’t do anything, my dear Monsieur + Bonnard! For God’s sake, and for your own sake, don’t do anything at all! + Your situation is bad enough as it is; don’t try to meddle with it now, + unless you want to create new difficulties for yourself. But you must + promise me to sustain me in any action that I may take. I shall go to see + Monsieur Mouche the very first thing to-morrow morning; and if he turns + out to be what I think he is—that is to say, a consummate rascal—I + shall very soon find means of making him harmless, even if the devil + himself should take sides with him. For everything depends on him. As it + is too late this evening to take Mademoiselle Jeanne back to her + boarding-school, my wife will keep the young lady here to-night. This of + course plainly constitues the misdemeanour of complicity; but it saves the + girl from anything like an equivocal position. As for you, my dear + Monsieur, you just go back to the Quai Malaquais as quickly as you can; + and if they come to look for Jeanne there, it will be very easy for you to + prove she is not in your house.” + </p> + <p> + While we were thus talking, Madame de Gabry was preparing to make her + young lodger comfortable for the night. When she bade me good-bye at the + door, she was carrying a pair of clean sheets, scented with lavender, + thrown over her arm. + </p> + <p> + “That,” I said, “is a sweet honest smell.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course,” answered Madame de Gabry, “you must remember we are + peasants.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” I answered her, “heaven grant that I also may be able one of these + days to become a peasant! Heaven grant that one of these days I may be + able, as you are at Lusance, to inhale the sweet fresh odour of the + country, and live in some little house all hidden among trees; and if this + wish of mine be too ambitious on the part of an old man whose life is + nearly closed, then I will only wish that my winding-sheet may be as + sweetly scented with lavender as that linen you have on your arm.” + </p> + <p> + It was agreed that I should come to lunch the following morning. But I was + positively forbidden to show myself at the house before midday. Jeanne, as + she kissed me good-bye, begged me not to take her back to the school any + more. We felt much affected at parting, and very anxious. + </p> + <p> + I found Therese waiting for me on the landing, in such a condition of + worry about me that it had made her furious. She talked of nothing less + than keeping me under lock and key in the future. + </p> + <p> + What a night I passed! I never closed my eyes for one single instant. From + time to time I could not help laughing like a boy at the success of my + prank; and then again, an inexpressible feeling of horror would come upon + me at the thought of being dragged before some magistrate, and having to + take my place upon the prisoner’s bench, to answer for the crime which I + had so naturally committed. I was very much afraid; and nevertheless I + felt no remorse or regret whatever. The sun, coming into my room at last, + merrily lighted upon the foot of my bed, and then I made this prayer: + </p> + <p> + “My God, Thou who didst make the sky and the dew, as it is said in + ‘Tristan,’ judge me in Thine equity, not indeed according unto my acts, + but according only to my motives, which Thou knowest have been upright and + pure; and I will say: Glory to Thee in heaven, and peace on earth to men + of good-will. I give into Thy hands the child I stole away. Do that for + her which I have not known how to do; guard for her from all her enemies;—and + blessed for ever be Thy name!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + December 29. + </h2> + <p> + When I arrived at Madame de Gabry’s, I found Jeanne completely + transfigured. + </p> + <p> + Had she also, like myself, at the very first light of dawn, called upon + Him who made the sky and the dew? She smiled with such a sweet calm smile! + </p> + <p> + Madame de Gabry called her away to arrange her hair for the amiable lady + had insisted upon combing and plaiting, with her own hands, the hair of + the child confided to her care. As I had come a little before the hour + agreed upon, I had interrupted this charming toilet. By way of punishment + I was told to go and wait in the parlour all by myself. Monsieur de Gabry + joined me there in a little while. He had evidently just come in, for I + could see on his forehead the mark left my the lining of his hat. His + frank face wore an expression of joyful excitement. I thought I had better + not ask him any questions; and we all went to lunch. When the servants had + finished waiting at table, Monsieur Paul, who had been keeping his good + story for the dessert, said to us, + </p> + <p> + “Well! I went to Levallois.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see Maitre Mouche?” excitedly inquired Madame de Gabry. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, curiously watching the expression of disappointment upon + our faces. + </p> + <p> + After having amused himself with our anxiety for a reasonable time, the + good fellow added: + </p> + <p> + “Maitre Mouche is no longer at Levallois. Maitre Mouche has gone away from + France. The day after to-morrow will make just eight days since he + decamped, taking with him all the money of his clients—a tolerably + large sum. I found the office closed. A woman who lived close by told me + all about it with an abundance of curses and imprecations. The notary did + not take the 7:55 train all by himself; he took with him the daughter of + the hairdresser of Levallois, a young person quite famous in that part of + the country for her beauty and her accomplishments;—they say she + could shave better than her father. Well, anyhow Mouche has run away with + her; the Commissaire de Police confirmed the fact for me. Now, really, + could it have been possible for Maitre Mouche to have left the country at + a more opportune moment? If he had only deferred his escapade one week + longer, he would have been still the representative of society, and would + have had you dragged off to gaol, Monsieur Bonnard, like a criminal. At + present we have nothing whatever to fear from him. Here is to the health + of Maitre Mouche!” he cried, pouring out a glass of white wine. + </p> + <p> + I would like to live a long time if it were only to remember that + delightful morning. We four were all assembled in the big white + dining-room around the waxed oak table. Monsieur Paul’s mirth was’ of the + hearty kind,—even perhaps a little riotous; and the good man quaffed + deeply. Madame de Gabry smiled at me, with a smile so sweet, so perfect, + and so noble, that I thought such a woman ought to keep smiles like that + simply as a reward for good actions, and thus make everybody who knew her + do all the good of which they were capable. Then, to reward us for our + pains, Jeanne, who had regained something of her former vivacity, asked us + in less than a quarter of an hour one dozen questions, to answer which + would have required an exhaustive exposition on the nature of man, the + nature of the universe, the science of physics and of metaphysics, the + Macrocosm and the Microcosm—not to speak of the Ineffable and the + Unknowable. Then she drew out of her pocket her little Saint-George, who + had suffered most cruelly during our flight. His legs and arms were gone; + but he still had his gold helmet with the green dragon on it. Jeanne + solemnly pledged herself to make a restoration of him in honour of Madame + de Gabry. + </p> + <p> + Delightful friends! I left them at last overwhelmed with fatigue and joy. + </p> + <p> + On re-entering my lodgings I had to endure the very sharpest remonstrances + from Therese, who said she had given up trying to understand my new way of + living. In her opinion Monsieur had really lost his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Therese, I am a mad old man and you are a mad old woman. That is + certain! May the good God bless us both, Therese, and give us new + strength; for we now have new duties to perform, but let me lie down upon + the sofa; for I really cannot keep myself on my feet any longer.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + January 15, 186-. + </h2> + <p> + “Good-morning, Monsieur,” said Jeanne, letting herself in; while Therese + remained grumbling in the corridor because she had not been able to get to + the door in time. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, I beg you will be kind enough to address me very solemnly + by my title, and to say to me, ‘Good-morning, my guardian.’” + </p> + <p> + “Then it has all been settled? Oh, how nice!” cried the child, clapping + her hands. + </p> + <p> + “It has all been arranged, Mademoiselle, in the Salle-commune and before + the Justice of the Peace; and from to-day you are under my authority.... + What are you laughing about, my ward? I see it in your eyes. You have some + crazy idea in your head this very moment—some more nonsense, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Monsieur.... I mean, my guardian. I was looking at your white + hair. It curls out from under the edge of your hat like honeysuckle on a + balcony. It is very handsome, and I like it very much!” + </p> + <p> + “Be good enough to sit down, my ward, and, if you can possibly help it, + stop saying ridiculous things, because I have some very serious things to + say to you. Listen. I suppose you are not going to insist upon being sent + back to the establishment of Mademoiselle Prefere?... No. Well, then, what + would you say if I should take you here to live with me, and to finish + your education, and keep you here until... what shall I say?—for + ever, as the song has it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Monsieur!” she cried, flushing crimson with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + I continued, + </p> + <p> + “Behind there we have a nice little room, which my housekeeper has cleaned + up and furnished for you. You are going to take the place of the books + which used to be in it; you will succeed them as the day succeeds night. + Go with Therese and look at it, and see if you think you will be able to + live in it. Madame de Gabry and I have made up our minds that you can + sleep there to-night.” + </p> + <p> + She had already started to run; I called her back for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne, listen to me a moment longer! You have always until now made + yourself a favourite with my housekeeper, who, like all very old people, + is apt to be cross at times. Be gentle and forebearing. Make every + allowance for her. I have thought it my duty to make every allowance for + her myself, and to put up with all her fits of impatience. Now, let me + tell you, Jeanne:—Respect her! And when I say that, I do not forget + that she is my servant and yours; neither will she ever allow herself to + forget it for a moment. But what I want you to respect in her is her great + age and her great heart. She is a humble woman who has lived a very, very + long time in the habit of doing good; and she has become hardened and + stiffened in that habit. Bear patiently with the harsh ways of that + upright soul. If you know how to command, she will know how to obey. Go + now, my child; arrange your room in whatever way may seem to you best + suited for your studies and for your repose.” + </p> + <p> + Having started Jeanne, with this viaticum, upon her domestic career, I + began to read a Review, which, although conducted by very young men, is + excellent. The tone of it is somewhat unpolished, but the spirit is + zealous. The article I read was certainly far superior, in point of + precision and positiveness, to anything of the sort ever written when I + was a young man. The author of the article, Monsieur Paul Meyer, points + out every error with a remarkably lucid power of incisive criticism. + </p> + <p> + We used not in my time to criticise with such strict justice. Our + indulgence was vast. It went even so far as to confuse the scholar and the + ignoramus in the same burst of praise. And nevertheless one must learn how + to find fault; and it is even an imperative duty to blame when the blame + is deserved. + </p> + <p> + I remember little Raymond (that was the name we gave him); he did not know + anything, and his mind was not a mind capable of absorbing any solid + learning; but he was very fond of his mother. We took very good care never + to utter a hint of the ignorance of so perfect a son; and, thanks, to our + forbearance, little Raymond made his way to the highest positions. He had + lost his mother then; but honours of all kinds were showered upon him. He + became omnipotent—to the grievous injury of his colleagues and of + science.... But here comes my young fiend of the Luxembourg. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Gelis. You look very happy to-day. What good fortune has + come to you, my dear lad?” + </p> + <p> + His good fortune is that he has been able to sustain his thesis very + credibly, and that he has taken high rank in his class. He tells me this + with the additional information that my own words, which were incidentally + referred to in the course of the examination, had been spoken of by the + college professors in terms of the most unqualified praise. + </p> + <p> + “That is very nice,” I replied; “and it makes me very happy, Gelis, to + find my old reputation thus associated with your own youthful honours. I + was very much interested, you know, in that thesis of yours;—but + some domestic arrangements have been keeping me so busy lately that I + quite forgot this was the day on which you were to sustain it.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Jeanne made her appearance very opportunely, as if in order + to suggest to him something about the nature of those very domestic + arrangements. The giddy girl burst into the City of Books like a fresh + breeze, crying at the top of her voice that her room was a perfect little + wonder; then she became very red indeed on seeing Monsieur Gelis there. + But none of us can escape our destiny. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Gelis asked her how she was with the tone of a young fellow who + resumes upon a previous acquaintance, and who proposes to put himself + forward as an old friend. Oh, never fear!—she had not forgotten him + at all; that was very evident from the fact that then and there, right + under my nose, they resumed their last year’s conversation on the subject + of the “Venetian blond”! They continued the discussion after quite an + animated fashion. I began to ask myself what right I had to be in the room + at all. The only thing I could do in order to make myself heard was to + cough. As for getting in a word, they never even gave me a chance. Gelis + discoursed enthusiastically, not only about the Venetian colourists, but + also upon all other matters relating to nature or to mankind. And Jeanne + kept answering him, “Yes, Monsieur, you are right.”.... “That is just what + I supposed, Monsieur.”.... “Monsieur, you express so beautifully just what + I feel.”... “I am going to think a great deal about what you have just + told me, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + When I speak, Mademoiselle never answers me in that tone. It is only with + the very tip of her tongue that she will even taste any intellectual food + which I set before her. Usually she will not touch it at all. But Monsieur + Gelis seems to be in her opinion the supreme authority upon all subjects. + It was always, “Oh, yes!”—“Oh, of course!”—to all his empty + chatter. And, then, the eyes of Jeanne! I had never seen them look so + large before; I had never before observed in them such fixity of + expression; but her gaze otherwise remained what it always is—artless, + frank, and brave. Gelis evidently pleased her; she like Gelis, and her + eyes betrayed the fact. They would have published it to the entire + universe! All very fine, Master Bonnard!—you have been so deeply + interested in observing your ward, that you have been forgetting you are + her guardian! You began only this morning to exercise that function; and + you can already see that it involves some very delicate and difficult + duties. Bonnard, you must really try to devise some means of keeping that + young man away from her; you really ought.... Eh! how am I to know what I + am to do?... + </p> + <p> + I have picked up a book at random from the nearest shelf; I open it, and I + enter respectfully into the middle of a drama of Sophocles. The older I + grow, the more I learn to love the two civilisations of the antique world; + and now I always keep the poets of Italy and of Greece on a shelf within + easy reach of my arm in the City of Books. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur and Mademoiselle finally condescend to take some notice of me, + now that I seem too busy to take any notice of them. I really think that + Mademoiselle Jeanne has even asked me what I am reading. No, indeed, I + will not tell her what it is. What I am reading, between ourselves, is the + change of that smooth and luminous Chorus which rolls out its magnificent + tunefulness through a scene of passionate violence—the Chorus of the + Old Men of Thebes—‘Erws avixate...’ “Invincible Love, O thou who + descendest upon rich houses,—Thou who dost rest upon the delicate + cheek of the maiden,—Thou who dost traverse all seas,—surely + none among the Immortals can escape Thee, nor indeed any among men who + live but for a little space; and he who is possessed by Thee, there is a + madness upon him.” And when I had re-read that delicious chant, the face + of Antigone appeared before me in all its passionless purity. What images! + Gods and goddesses who hover in the highest heights of Heaven! The blind + old man, the long-wandering beggar-king, led by Antigone, has now been + buried with holy rites; and his daughter, fair as the fairest dream ever + conceived by human soul, resists the will of the tyrant and gives pious + sepulture to her brother. She loves the son of the tyrant, and that son + loves her also. And as she goes on her way to execution, the victim of her + own sweet piety, the old men sing, “Invincible Love, O Thou who dost + descend upon rich houses,—Thou who dost rest upon the delicate cheek + of the maiden.”... + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle Jeanne, are you really very anxious to know what I am + reading? I am reading, Mademoiselle—I am reading that Antigone, + having buried the blind old man, wove a fair tapestry embroidered with + images in the likeness of laughing faces.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Gelis, as he burs out laughing “that is not in the text.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a scholium,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Unpublished,” he added, getting up. + </p> + <p> + I am not an egotist. But I am prudent. I have to bring up this child; she + is much too young to be married now. No! I am not an egotist, but I must + certainly keep her with me for a few years more—keep her alone with + me. She can surely wait until I am dead! Fear not, Antigone, old Oedipus + will find holy burial soon enough. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile, Antigone is helping our housekeeper to scrape the + carrots. She says she like to do it—that it is in her line, being + related to the art of sculpture. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + May. + </h2> + <p> + Who would recognise the City of Books now? There are flowers everywhere—even + upon all the articles of furniture. Jeanne was right: those roses do look + very nice in that blue china vase. She goes to market every day with + Therese, under the pretext of helping the old servant to make her + purchases, but she never brings anything back with her except flowers. + Flowers are really very charming creatures. And one of these days, I must + certainly carry out my plan, and devote myself to the study of them, in + their own natural domain, in the country—with all the science and + earnestness which I possess. + </p> + <p> + For what have I to do here? Why should I burn my eyes out over these old + parchments which cannot now tell me anything worth knowing? I used to + study them, these old texts, with the most ardent enjoyment. What was it + which I was then so anxious to find in them? The date of a pious + foundation—the name of some monkish imagier or copyist—the + price of a loaf, of an ox, or of a field—some judicial or + administrative enactment—all that, and yet something more, a + Something vaguely mysterious and sublime which excited my enthusiasm. But + for sixty years I have been searching in vain for that Something. Better + men than I—the masters, the truly great, the Fauriels, the Thierrys, + who found so many things—died at their task without having been + able, any more than I have been, to find that Something which, being + incorporeal, has no name, and without which, nevertheless, no great mental + work would ever be undertaken in this world. And now that I am only + looking for what I should certainly be able to find, I cannot find + anything at all; and it is probable that I shall never be able to finish + the history of the Abbots of Saint-Germain-des-Pres. + </p> + <p> + “Guardian, just guess what I have in my handkerchief.” + </p> + <p> + “Judging from appearances, Jeanne, I should say flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—not flowers. Look!” + </p> + <p> + I look, and I see a little grey head poking itself out of the + handkerchief. It is the head of a little grey cat. The handkerchief opens; + the animal leaps down upon the carpet, shakes itself, pricks up first one + ear and then the other, and begins to examine with due caution the + locality and the inhabitants thereof. + </p> + <p> + Therese, out of breath, with her basket on her arm, suddenly makes her + appearance in time to take an objective part in this examination, which + does not appear to result altogether in her favour; for the young cat + moves slowly away from her, without, however, venturing near my legs, or + approaching Jeanne, who displays extraordinary volubility in the use of + caressing appellations. Therese, whose chief fault is her inability to + hide her feelings, thereupon vehemently reproaches Mademoiselle for + bringing home a cat that she did not know anything about. Jeanne, in order + to justify herself, tells the whole story. While she was passing with + Therese before a chemist’s shop, she saw the assistant kick a little cat + into the street. The cat, astonished and frightened, seemed to be asking + itself whether to remain in the street where it was being terrified and + knocked about by the people passing by, or whether to go back into the + chemist’s even at the risk of being kicked out a second time. Jeanne + thought it was in a very critical position, and understood its hesitation. + It looked so stupid; and she knew it looked stupid only because it could + not decide what to do. So she took it up in her arms. And as it had not + been able to obtain any rest either indoors out out-of-doors, it allowed + her to hold it. Then she stroked and petted it to keep it from being + afraid, and boldly went to the chemist’s assistant and said, + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t like that animal, you mustn’t beat it; you must give it to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Take it,” said the assistant. + </p> + <p> + ... “Now there!” adds Jeanne, by way of conclusion; and then she changes + her voice again to a flute-tone in order to say all kinds of sweet things + to the cat. + </p> + <p> + “He is horribly thin,” I observe, looking at the wretched animal;—“moreover, + he is horribly ugly.” Jeanne thinks he is not ugly at all, but she + acknowledges that he looks even more stupid than he looked at first: this + time she thinks it not indecision, but surprise, which gives that + unfortunate aspect to his countenance. She asks us to imagine ourselves in + his place;—then we are obliged to acknowledge that he cannot + possibly understand what has happened to him. And then we all burst out + laughing in the face of the poor little beast, which maintains the most + comical look of gravity. Jeanne wants to take him up; but he hides himself + under the table, and cannot even be tempted to come out by the lure of a + saucer of milk. + </p> + <p> + We all turn our backs and promise not to look; when we inspect the saucer + again, we find it empty. + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne,” I observe, “your protege has a decidedly tristful aspect of + countenance; he is of sly and suspicious disposition; I trust he is not + going to commit in the City of Books any such misdemeanours as might + render it necessary for us to send him back to his chemist’s shop. In the + meantime we must give him a name. Suppose we call him ‘Don Gris de + Gouttiere’; but perhaps that is too long. ‘Pill,’ ‘Drug,’ or ‘Castor-oil’ + would be short enough, and would further serve to recall his early + condition in life. What do you think about it? + </p> + <p> + “‘Pill’ would not sound bad,” answers Jeanne, “but it would be very unkind + to give him a name which would be always reminding him of the misery from + which we saved him. It would be making him pay too dearly for our + hospitality. Let us be more generous, and give him a pretty name, in hopes + that he is going to deserve it. See how he looks at us! He knows that we + are talking about him. And now that he is no longer unhappy, he is + beginning to look a great deal less stupid. I am not joking! Unhappiness + does make people look stupid,—I am perfectly sure it does.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jeanne, if you like, we will call your protege Hannibal. The + appropriateness of that name does not seem to strike you at once. But the + Angora cat who preceded him here as an intimate of the City of Books, and + to whom I was in the habit of telling all my secrets—for he was a + very wise and discreet person—used to be called Hamilcar. It is + natural that this name should beget the other, and that Hannibal should + succeed Hamilcar.” + </p> + <p> + We all agreed upon this point. + </p> + <p> + “Hannibal!” cried Jeanne, “come here!” + </p> + <p> + Hannibal, greatly frightened by the strange sonority of his own name, ran + to hid himself under a bookcase in an orifice so small that a rat could + not have squeezed himself into it. + </p> + <p> + A nice way of doing credit to so great a name! + </p> + <p> + I was in a good humour for working that day, and I had just dipped the nib + of my pen into the ink-bottle when I heard some one ring. Should any one + ever read these pages written by an unimaginative old man, he will be sure + to laugh at the way that bell keeps ringing through my narrative, without + ever announcing the arrival of a new personage or introducing any + unexpected incident. On the stage things are managed on the reverse + principle. Monsieur Scribe never has the curtain raised without good + reason, and for the greater enjoyment of ladies and young misses. That is + art! I would rather hang myself than write a play,—not that I + despise life, but because I should never be able to invent anything + amusing. Invent! In order to do that one must have received the gift of + inspiration. It would be a very unfortunate thing for me to possess such a + gift. Suppose I were to invent some monkling in my history of the Abbey of + Saint-Germain-des-Pres! What would our young erudites say? What a scandal + for the School! As for the Institute, it would say nothing and probably + not even think about the matter either. Even if my colleagues still write + a little sometimes, they never read. They are of the opinion of Parny, who + said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Une paisible indifference + Est la plus sage des vertus.” + [“The most wise of the virtues is a calm indifference.”] +</pre> + <p> + To be the least wise in order to become the most wise—this is + precisely what those Buddhists are aiming at without knowing it. If there + is any wiser wisdom than that I will go to Rome to report upon it.... And + all this because Monsieur Gelis happened to ring the bell! + </p> + <p> + This young man has latterly changed his manner completely with Jeanne. He + is now quite as serious as he used to be frivolous, and quite as silent as + he used to be chatty. And Jeanne follows his example. We have reached the + phase of passionate love under constraint. For, old as I am, I cannot be + deceived about it: these two children are violently and sincerely in love + with each other. Jeanne now avoids him—she hides herself in her room + when he comes into the library—but how well she knows how to reach + him when she is alone! alone at her piano! Every evening she talks to him + through the music she plays with a rich thrill of passional feeling which + is the new utterance of her new soul. + </p> + <p> + Well, why should I not confess it? Why should I not avow my weakness? + Surely my egotism would not become any less blameworthy by keeping it + hidden from myself? So I will write it. Yes! I was hoping for something + else;—yes! I thought I was going to keep her all to myself, as my + own child, as my own daughter—not always, of course, not even + perhaps for very long, but just for a few short years more. I am so old! + Could she not wait? And, who knows? With the help of the gout, I would not + have imposed upon her patience too much. That was my wish; that was my + hope. I had made my plans—I had not reckoned upon the coming of this + wild young man. But the mistake is none the less cruel because my + reckoning happened to be wrong. And yet it seems to me that you are + condemning yourself very rashly, friend Sylvestre Bonnard: if you did want + to keep this young girl a few years longer, it was quite as much in her + own interest as in yours. She has a great deal to learn yet, and you are + not a master to be despised. When that miserable notary Mouche—who + subsequently committed his rascalities at so opportune a moment—paid + you the honour of a visit, you explained to him your ideas of education + with all the fervour of high enthusiasm. Then you attempted to put that + system of yours into practice;—Jeanne is certainly an ungrateful + girl, and Gelis a much too seductive young man! + </p> + <p> + But still,—unless I put him out of the house, which would be a + detestably ill-mannered and ill-natured thing to do,—I must continue + to receive him. He has been waiting ever so long in my little parlour, in + front of those Sevres vases with which King Louis Philippe so graciously + presented me. The Moissonneurs and the Pecheurs of Leopold Robert are + painted upon those porcelain vases, which Gelis nevertheless dares to call + frightfully ugly, with the warm approval of Jeanne, whom he has absolutely + bewitched. + </p> + <p> + “My dear lad, excuse me for having kept you waiting so long. I had a + little bit of work to finish.” + </p> + <p> + I am telling the truth. Meditation is work, but of course Gelis does not + know what I mean; he thinks I am referring to something archaeological, + and, his question in regard to the health of Mademoiselle Jeanne having + been answered by a “Very well indeed,” uttered in that extremely dry tone + which reveals my moral authority as guardian, we begin to converse about + historical subjects. We first enter upon generalities. Generalities are + sometimes extremely serviceable. I try to inculcate into Monsieur Gelis + some respect for that generation of historians to which I belong. I say to + him, + </p> + <p> + “History, which was formerly an art, and which afforded place for the + fullest exercise of the imagination, has in our time become a science, the + study of which demands absolute exactness of knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + Gelis asks leave to differ from me on this subject. He tells me he does + not believe that history is a science, or that it could possibly ever + become a science. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” he says to me, “what is history? The written + representation of past events. But what is an event? Is it merely a + commonplace fact? It is any fact? No! You say yourself it is a noteworthy + fact. Now, how is the historian to tell whether a fact is noteworthy or + not? He judges it arbitrarily, according to his tastes and his caprices + and his ideas—in short, as an artist? For facts cannot by reason of + their own intrinsic character be divided into historical facts and + non-historical facts. But any fact is something exceedingly complex. Will + the historian represent facts in all their complexity? No, that is + impossible. Then he will represent them stripped of the greater part of + the peculiarities which constituted them, and consequently lopped, + mutilated, different from what they really were. As for the inter-relation + of facts, needless to speak of it! If a so-called historical fact be + brought into notice—as is very possible—by one or more facts + which are not historical at all, and are for that very reason unknown, how + is the historian going to establish the relation of these facts one to + another? And in saying this, Monsieur Bonnard, I am supposing that the + historian has positive evidence before him, whereas in reality he feels + confidence only in such or such a witness for sympathetic reasons. History + is not a science; it is an art, and one can succeed in that art only + through the exercise of his faculty of imagination.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Gelis reminds me very much at this moment of a certain young fool + whom I heard talking wildly one day in the garden of the Luxembourg, under + the statue of Marguerite of Navarre. But at another turn of the + conversation we find ourselves face to face with Walter Scott, whose work + my disdainful young friend pleases to term “rococo, troubadourish, and + only fit to inspire somebody engaged in making designs for cheap bronze + clocks.” Those are his very words! + </p> + <p> + “Why!” I exclaim, zealous to defend the magnificent creator of ‘The Bride + of Lammermoor’ and ‘The Fair Maid of Perth,’ “the whole past lives in + those admirable novels of his;—that is history, that is epic!” + </p> + <p> + “It is frippery,” Gelis answers me. + </p> + <p> + And,—will you believe it?—this crazy boy actually tells me + that no matter how learned one may be, one cannot possibly know just how + men used to live five or ten centuries ago, because it is only with the + very greatest difficulty that one can picture them to oneself even as they + were only ten or fifteen years ago. In his opinion, the historical poem, + the historical novel, the historical painting, are all, according to their + kind, abominably false as branches of art. + </p> + <p> + “In all the arts,” he adds, “the artist can only reflect his own soul. His + work, no matter how it may be dressed up, is of necessity contemporary + with himself, being the reflection of his own mind. What do we admire in + the ‘Divine Comedy’ unless it be the great soul of Dante? And the marbles + of Michael Angelo, what do they represent to us that is at all + extraordinary unless it be Michael Angelo himself? The artist either + communicates his own life to his creations, or else merely whittles out + puppets and dresses up dolls.” + </p> + <p> + What a torrent of paradoxes and irreverences! But boldness in a young man + is not displeasing to me. Gelis gets up from his chair and sits down + again. I know perfectly well what is worrying him, and whom he is waiting + for. And now he begins to talk to me about his being able to make fifteen + hundred francs a year, to which he can add the revenue he derives from a + little property that he has inherited—two thousand francs a year + more. And I am not in the least deceived as to the purpose of these + confidences on his part. I know perfectly well that he is only making his + little financial statements in order to persuade me that he is comfortably + circumstanced, steady, fond of home, comparatively independent—or, + to put the matter in the fewest words possible, able to marry. Quod erat + demonstrandum,—as the geometricians say. + </p> + <p> + He has got up and sat down just twenty times. He now rises for the + twenty-first time; and, as he has not been able to see Jeanne, he goes + away feeling as unhappy as possible. + </p> + <p> + The moment he has gone, Jeanne comes into the City of Books, under the + pretext of looking for Hannibal. She is also quite unhappy; and her voice + becomes singularly plaintive as she calls her pet to give him some milk. + Look at that sad little face, Bonnard! Tyrant, gaze upon thy work! Thou + hast been able to keep them from seeing each other; but they have now both + of them the same expression of countenance, and thou mayest discern from + that similarity of expression that in spite of thee they are united in + thought. Cassandra, be happy! Bartholo, rejoice! This is what it means to + be a guardian! Just see her kneeling down there on the carpet with + Hannibal’s head between her hands! + </p> + <p> + Yes, caress the stupid animal!—pity him!—moan over him!—we + know very well, you little rogue, the real cause of all these sighs and + plaints! Nevertheless, it makes a very pretty picture. I look at it for a + long time; then, throwing a glance around my library, I exclaim, + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne, I am tired of all those books; we must sell them.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + September 20. + </h2> + <p> + It is done!—they are betrothed. Gelis, who is an orphan, as Jeanne + is, did not make his proposal to me in person. He got one of his + professors, an old colleague of mine, highly esteemed for his learning and + character, to come to me on his behalf. But what a love messenger! Great + Heavens! A bear—neat a bear of the Pyrenees, but a literary bear, + and this latter variety of bear is much more ferocious than the former. + </p> + <p> + “Right or wrong (in my opinion wrong) Gelis says that he does not want any + dowry; he takes your ward with nothing but her chemise. Say yes, and the + thing is settled! Make haste about it! I want to show you two or three + very curious old tokens from Lorraine which I am sure you never saw + before.” + </p> + <p> + That is literally what he said to me. I answered him that I would consult + Jeanne, and I found no small pleasure in telling him that my ward had a + dowry. + </p> + <p> + Her dowry—there it is in front of me! It is my library. Henri and + Jeanne have not even the faintest suspicion about it; and the fact is I am + commonly believed to be much richer than I am. I have the face of an old + miser. It is certainly a lying face; but its untruthfulness has often won + for me a great deal of consideration. There is nobody so much respected in + this world as a stingy rich man. + </p> + <p> + I have consulted Jeanne,—but what was the need of listening for her + answer? It is done! They are betrothed. + </p> + <p> + It would ill become my character as well as my face to watch these young + people any longer for the mere purpose of noting down their words and + gestures. Noli me tangere:—that is the maxim for all charming love + affairs. I know my duty. It is to respect all the little secrets of that + innocent soul intrusted to me. Let these children love each other all they + can! Never a word of their fervent outpouring of mutual confidences, never + a hint of their artless self-betrayals, will be set down in this diary by + the old guardian whose authority was so gentle and so brief. + </p> + <p> + At all events, I am not going to remain with my arms folded; and if they + have their business to attend to, I have mine also. I am preparing a + catalogue of my books, with a view to having them all sold at auction. It + is a task which saddens and amuses me at the same time. I linger over it, + perhaps a good deal longer than I ought to do; turning the leaves of all + those works which have become so familiar to my thought, to my touch, to + my sight—even out of all necessity and reason. But it is a farewell; + and it has ever been in the nature of man to prolong a farewell. + </p> + <p> + This ponderous volume here, which has served me so much for thirty long + years, how can I leave it without according it every kindness that a + faithful servant deserves? And this one again, which has so often consoled + me by its wholesome doctrines, must I not bow down before it for the last + time, as to a Master? But each time that I meet with a volume which led me + into error, which ever afflicted me with false dates, omissions, lies, and + other plagues of the archaeologist, I say to it with bitter joy: “Go! + imposter, traitor, false-witness! flee thou far away from me for ever;—vade + retro! all absurdly covered with gold as thou art! and I pray it may + befall thee—thanks to thy usurped reputation and thy comely morocco + attire—to take thy place in the cabinet of some banker-bibliomaniac, + whom thou wilt never be able to seduce as thou has seduced me, because he + will never read one single line of thee.” + </p> + <p> + I laid aside some books I must always keep—those books which were + given to me as souvenirs. As I placed among them the manuscript of the + “Golden Legend,” I could not but kiss it in memory of Madame Trepof, who + remained grateful to me in spite of her high position and all her wealth, + and who became my benefactress merely to prove to me that she felt I had + once done her a kindness.... Thus I had made a reserve. It was then that, + for the first time, I felt myself inclined to commit a deliberate crime. + All through that night I was strongly tempted; by morning the temptation + had become irresistible. Everybody else in the house was still asleep. I + got out of bed and stole softly from my room. + </p> + <p> + Ye powers of darkness! ye phantoms of the night! if while lingering within + my home after the crowing of the cock, you saw me stealing about on tiptoe + in the City of Books, you certainly never cried out, as Madame Trepof did + at Naples, “That old man has a good-natured round back!” I entered the + library; Hannibal, with his tail perpendicularly erected, came to rub + himself against my legs and purr. I seized a volume from its shelf, some + venerable Gothic text or some noble poet of the Renaissance—the + jewel, the treasure which I had been dreaming about all night, I seized it + and slipped it away into the very bottom of the closet which I had + reserved for those books I intended to retain, and which soon became full + almost to bursting. It is horrible to relate: I was stealing from the + dowry of Jeanne! And when the crime had been consummated I set myself + again sturdily to the task of cataloguing, until Jeanne came to consult me + in regard to something about a dress or a trousseau. I could not possibly + understand just what she was talking about, through my total ignorance of + the current vocabulary of dress-making and linen-drapery. Ah! if a bride + of the fourteenth century had come to talk to me about the apparel of her + epoch, then, indeed, I should have been able to understand her language! + But Jeanne does not belong to my time, and I have to send her to Madame de + Gabry, who on this important occasion will take the place of her mother. + </p> + <p> + ... Night has come! Leaning from the window, we gaze at the vast sombre + stretch of the city below us, pierced with multitudinous points of light. + Jeanne presses her hand to her forehead as she leans upon the window-bar, + and seems a little sad. And I say to myself as I watch her: All changes + even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind + us is a part of ourselves: we must die to one life before we can enter + into another! + </p> + <p> + And as if answering my thought, the young girl murmurs to me, + </p> + <p> + “My guardian, I am so happy; and still I feel as if I wanted to cry!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Last Page + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + August 21, 1869. + </h2> + <p> + Page eighty-seven.... Only twenty lines more and I shall have finished my + book about insects and flowers. Page eighty-seventh and last.... “As we + have already seen, the visits of insects are of the utmost importance to + plants; since their duty is to carry to the pistils the pollen of the + stamens. It seems also that the flower itself is arranged and made + attractive for the purpose of inviting this nuptial visit. I think I have + been able to show that the nectary of the plant distils a sugary liquid + which attracts the insects and obliges it to aid unconsciously in the work + of direct or cross fertilisation. The last method of fertilisation is the + more common. I have shown that flowers are coloured and perfumed so as to + attract insects, and interiorly so constructed as to offer those visitors + such a mode of access that they cannot penetrate into the corolla without + depositing upon the stigma the pollen with which they have been covered. + My most venerated master Sprengel observes in regard to that fine down + which lines the corolla of the wood-geranium: ‘The wise Author of Nature + has never created a single useless hair!’ I say in my turn: If that Lily + of the Valley whereof the Gospel makes mention is more richly clad than + King Solomon in all his glory, its mantle of purple is a wedding-garment, + and that rich apparel is necessary to the perpetuation of the species.” + </p> + <p> + “Brolles, August 21, 1869.” + </p> + <p> + [Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard was not aware that several very illustrious + naturalists were making researches at the same time as he in regard to the + relation between insects and plants. He was not acquainted with the + labours of Darwin, with those of Dr. Hermann Muller, nor with the + observations of Sir John Lubbock. It is worthy of note that the + conclusions of Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard are very nearly similar to those + reached by the three scientists above mentioned. Less important, but + perhaps equally interesting, is the fact that Sir John Lubbock is, like + Monsieur Bonnard, an archaeologist who began to devote himself only late + in life to the natural sciences.—Note by the French Editor.] + </p> + <p> + Brolles! My house is the last one you pass in the single street of the + village, as you go to the woods. It is a gabled house with a slate roof, + which takes iridescent tints in the sun like a pigeon’s breast. The + weather-vane above that roof has won more consideration for me among the + country people than all my works upon history and philology. There is not + a single child who does not know Monsieur Bonnard’s weather-vane. It is + rusty, and squeaks very sharply in the wind. Sometimes it refuses to do + any work at all—just like Therese, who now allows herself to be + assisted by a young peasant girl—though she grumbles a good deal + about it. The house is not large, but I am very comfortable in it. My room + has two windows, and gets the sun in the morning. The children’s room is + upstairs. Jeanne and Henri come twice a year to occupy it. + </p> + <p> + Little Sylvestre’s cradle used to be in it. He was a very pretty child, + but very pale. When he used to play on the grass, his mother would watch + him very anxiously; and every little while she would stop her sewing in + order to take him upon her lap. The poor little fellow never wanted to go + to sleep. He used to say that when he was asleep he would go away, very + far away, to some place where it was all dark, and where he saw things + that made him afraid—things he never wanted to see again. + </p> + <p> + Then his mother would call me, and I would sit down beside his cradle. He + would take one of my fingers in his little dry warm hand, and say to me, + </p> + <p> + “Godfather, you must tell me a story.” + </p> + <p> + Then I would tell him all kinds of stories, which he would listen to very + seriously. They all interested him, but there was one especially which + filled his little soul with delight. It was “The Blue Bird.” Whenever I + finished that, he would say to me, “Tell it again! tell it again!” And I + would tell it again until his little pale blue-veined head sank back upon + the pillow in slumber. + </p> + <p> + The doctor used to answer all our questions by saying, + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing extraordinary the matter with him!” + </p> + <p> + No! There was nothing extraordinary the matter with little Sylvestre. One + evening last year his father called me. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “the little one is still worse.” + </p> + <p> + I approached the cradle over which the mother hung motionless, as if tied + down above it by all the powers of her soul. + </p> + <p> + Little Sylvestre turned his eyes towards me; their pupils had already + rolled up beneath his eyelids, and could not descend again. + </p> + <p> + “Godfather,” he said, “you are not to tell me any more stories.” + </p> + <p> + No, I was not to tell him any more stories! + </p> + <p> + Poor Jeanne!—poor mother! + </p> + <p> + I am too old now to feel very deeply; but how strangely painful a mystery + is the death of a child! + </p> + <p> + To-day, the father and mother have come to pass six weeks under the old + man’s roof. I see them now returning from the woods, walking arm-in-arm. + Jeanne is closely wrapped in her black shawl, and Henri wears a crape band + on his straw hat; but they are both of them radiant with youth, and they + smile very sweetly at each other. They smile at the earth which sustains + them; they smile at the air which bathes them; they smile at the light + which each one sees in the eyes of the other. From my window I wave my + handkerchief at them,—and they smile at my old age. + </p> + <p> + Jeanne comes running lightly up the stairs; she kisses me, and then + whispers in my ear something which I divine rather than hear. And I make + answer to her: “May God’s blessing be with you, Jeanne, and with your + husband, and with your children, and with your children’s children for + ever!”... Et nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine! + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard, by Anatole France + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD *** + +***** This file should be named 2123-h.htm or 2123-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/2/2123/ + +Produced by Brett Fishburne and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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