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移除书签An Attack of GoutAnd I received promotion, not on my own merits, but becausemy master had the gout.
BERTOLOTTIThe reader is perhaps surprised at this free and almost friendly tone; —
we have forgotten to say that for six weeks the Marquis had been confined to the house by an attack of gout.
Mademoiselle de La Mole and her mother were at Hyeres, with theMarquise’s mother. —
Comte Norbert saw his father only for brief moments; —
they were on the best of terms, but had nothing to say to one another. —
M. de La Mole, reduced to Julien’s company, was astonished tofind him endowed with ideas. —
He made him read the newspapers aloud.
Soon the young secretary was able to select the interesting passages.
There was a new paper which the Marquis abhorred; —
he had vowed thathe would never read it, and spoke of it every day. Julien laughed. —
TheMarquis, out of patience with the times, made Julien read him Livy; —
thetranslation improvised from the Latin text amused him.
One day the Marquis said, with that tone of over-elaborate politeness,which often tried Julien’s patience:
’Allow me, my dear Sorel, to make you the present of a blue coat:
when it suits you to put it on and to pay me a visit, you will be, in myeyes, the younger brother of the Comte de Chaulnes, that is to say, theson of my old friend the Duke.’
Julien was somewhat in the dark as to what was happening; —
that evening he ventured to pay a visit in his blue coat. The Marquis treated himas an equal. —
Julien had a heart capable of appreciating true politeness,but he had no idea of the finer shades. —
He would have sworn, before thiscaprice of the Marquis, that it would be impossible to be received by himwith greater deference. —
‘What a marvellous talent!’ Julien said to himself; —
when he rose to go, the Marquis apologised for not being able to see himto the door on account of his gout.
Julien was obsessed by this strange idea: ‘Can he be laughing at me?’
he wondered. He went to seek the advice of the abbe Pirard, who, lesscourteous than the Marquis, answered him only with a whistle andchanged the subject. —
The following morning Julien appeared before theMarquis, in a black coat, with his portfolio and the letters to be signed.
He was received in the old manner. That evening, in his blue coat, it waswith an entirely different tone and one in every way as polite as theevening before.
‘Since you appear to find some interest in the visits which you are sokind as to pay to a poor, suffering old man,’ the Marquis said to him,‘you must speak to him of all the little incidents in your life, but openly,and without thinking of anything but how to relate them clearly and inan amusing fashion. —
For one must have amusement,’ the Marquis wenton; ‘that is the only real thing in life. —
A man cannot save my life on abattle-field every day, nor can he make me every day the present of amillion; —
but if I had Rivarol here, by my couch, every day, he would relieve me of an hour of pain and boredom. —
I saw a great deal of him atHamburg, during the Emigration.’
And the Marquis told Julien stories of Rivarol among the Hamburgers,who would club together in fours to elucidate the point of a witty saying.
M. de La Mole, reduced to the society of this young cleric, sought toenliven him. —
He stung Julien’s pride. Since he was asked for the truth,Julien determined to tell his whole story; but with the suppression of twothings: —
his fanatical admiration for a name which made the Marquis furious, and his entire unbelief, which hardly became a future cure. —
His littleaffair with the Chevalier de Beauvoisis arrived most opportunely. —
TheMarquis laughed till he cried at the scene in the cafe in the Rue Saint-Honore, with the coachman who covered him with foul abuse. —
It was aperiod of perfect frankness in the relations between employer andprotege.
M. de La Mole became interested in this singular character. —
At first, heplayed with Julien’s absurdities, for his own entertainment; —
soon hefound it more interesting to correct, in the gentlest manner, the youngman’s mistaken view of life. —
‘Most provincials who come to Paris admireeverything,’ thought the Marquis; —
‘this fellow hates everything. Theyhave too much sentiment, he has not enough, and fools take him for afool.’
The attack of gout was prolonged by the wintry weather and lasted forsome months.
‘One becomes attached to a fine spaniel,’ the Marquis told himself;’ —
why am I so ashamed of becoming attached to this young cleric? He isoriginal. —
I treat him like a son; well, what harm is there in that! —
Thisfancy, if it lasts, will cost me a diamond worth five hundred louis in mywill.’
Once the Marquis had realised the firm character of his protege, he entrusted him with some fresh piece of business every day.
Julien noticed with alarm that this great nobleman would occasionallygive him contradictory instructions with regard to the same matter.
This was liable to land him in serious trouble. —
Julien, when he came towork with the Marquis, invariably brought a diary in which he wrotedown his instructions, and the Marquis initialled them. —
Julien had engaged a clerk who copied out the instructions relative to each piece ofbusiness in a special book. —
In this book were kept also copies of allletters.
This idea seemed at first the most ridiculous and tiresome thing imaginable. —
But, in less than two months, the Marquis realised its advantages. —
Julien suggested engaging a clerk from a bank, who should keep anaccount by double entry of all the revenue from and expenditure on theestates of which he himself had charge.
These measures so enlightened the Marquis as to his own financial position that he was able to give himself the pleasure of embarking on twoor three fresh speculations without the assistance of his broker, who hadbeen robbing him.
’Take three thousand francs for yourself,’ he said, one day to his youngminister.
’But, Sir, my conduct may be criticised.’
’What do you want, then?’ replied the Marquis, with irritation.
‘I want you to be so kind as to make a formal agreement, and to writeit down yourself in the book; —
the agreement will award me a sum ofthree thousand francs. —
Besides, it was M. l’abbe Pirard who first thoughtof all this book-keeping.’ —
The Marquis, with the bored expression of theMarquis de Moncade, listening to M. Poisson, his steward, reading hisaccounts, wrote out his instructions.
In the evening, when Julien appeared in his blue coat, there was neverany talk of business. —
The Marquis’s kindness was so flattering to our hero’s easily wounded vanity that presently, in spite of himself, he felt asort of attachment to this genial old man. —
Not that Julien was sensitive,as the word is understood in Paris; —
but he was not a monster, and noone, since the death of the old Surgeon-Major, had spoken to him sokindly. —
He remarked with astonishment that the Marquis showed a polite consideration for his self-esteem which he had never received fromthe old surgeon. —
Finally he realised that the surgeon had been prouder ofhis Cross than the Marquis was of his Blue Riband. —
The Marquis was theson of a great nobleman.
One day, at the end of a morning interview, in his black coat, and forthe discussion of business, Julien amused the Marquis, who kept him fora couple of hours, and positively insisted upon giving him a handful ofbank notes which his broker had just brought him from the Bourse.
’I hope, Monsieur le Marquis, not to be wanting in the profound respect which I owe you if I ask you to allow me to say something.’
’Speak, my friend.’
‘Will Monsieur le Marquis be graciously pleased to let me decline thisgift. —
It is not to the man in black that it is offered, and it would at onceput an end to the liberties which he is so kind as to tolerate from the manin blue.’ —
He bowed most respectfully, and left the room without lookinground.
This attitude amused the Marquis, who reported it that evening to theabbe Pirard.
‘There is something that I must at last confess to you, my dear abbe. —
Iknow the truth about Julien’s birth, and I authorise you not to keep thisconfidence secret.
’His behaviour this morning was noble,’ thought the Marquis, ‘and Ishall ennoble him.’
Some time after this, the Marquis was at length able to leave his room.
‘Go and spend a couple of months in London,’ he told Julien. —
‘The special couriers and other messengers will bring you the letters I receive,with my notes. —
You will write the replies and send them to me, enclosingeach letter with its reply. —
I have calculated that the delay will not amountto more than five days.’
As he travelled post along the road to Calais, Julien thought withamazement of the futility of the alleged business on which he was beingsent.
We shall not describe the feeling of horror, almost of hatred, withwhich he set foot on English soil. —
The reader is aware of his insane passion for Bonaparte. —
He saw in every officer a Sir Hudson Lowe, in everynobleman a Lord Bathurst, ordering the atrocities of Saint Helena, andreceiving his reward in ten years of office.
In London he at last made acquaintance with the extremes of fatuity.
He made friends with some young Russian gentlemen who initiatedhim.
’You are predestined, my dear Sorel,’ they told him, ‘you are endowedby nature with that cold expression a thousand leagues from the sensation ofthe moment, which we try so hard to assume.’
‘You have not understood our age,’ Prince Korasoff said to him; —
‘alwaysdo the opposite to what people expect of you. —
That, upon my honour, is theonly religion of the day. —
Do not be either foolish or affected, for thenpeople will expect foolishness and affectations, and you will not be obeying the rule.’
Julien covered himself with glory one day in the drawing-room of theDuke of Fitz-Fulke, who had invited him to dine, with Prince Korasoff.
The party were kept waiting for an hour. —
The way in which Julien comported himself amid the score of persons who stood waiting is stillquoted by the young Secretaries of Embassy in London. —
His expressionwas inimitable.
He was anxious to meet, notwithstanding his friends the dandies, thecelebrated Philip Vane, the one philosopher that England has producedsince Locke. He found him completing his seventh year in prison. —
‘Thearistocracy does not take things lightly in this country,’ thought Julien;’ —
in addition to all this, Vane is disgraced, abused,’ etc.
Julien found him good company; the fury of the aristocracy kept himamused. —
‘There,’ Julien said to himself, as he left the prison, ‘is the onecheerful man that I have met in England.’
’The idea of most use to tyrants is that of God,’ Vane had said to him.
We suppress the rest of the philosopher’s system as being cynical.
On his return: ‘What amusing idea have you brought me from England?’ M. de La Mole asked him. —
He remained silent. ‘What idea haveyou brought, amusing or not?’ —
the Marquis went on, sharply.
‘First of all,’ said Julien, ‘the wisest man in England is mad for an hourdaily; —
he is visited by the demon of suicide, who is the national deity.
‘Secondly, intelligence and genius forfeit twenty-five per cent of theirvalue on landing in England.
’Thirdly, nothing in the world is so beautiful, admirable, moving as theEnglish countryside.’
’Now, it is my turn,’ said the Marquis.
‘First of all, what made you say, at the ball at the Russian Embassy,that there are in France three hundred thousand young men of five andtwenty who are passionately anxious for war? —
Do you think that that isquite polite to the Crowned Heads?’
‘One never knows what to say in speaking to our great diplomats,’ saidJulien. —
They have a mania for starting serious discussions. —
If one confinesoneself to the commonplaces of the newspapers, one is reckoned a fool.
If one allows oneself to say something true and novel, they are astonished, they do not know how to answer, and next morning, at seveno’clock they send word to one by the First Secretary, that one has beenimpolite.’
‘Not bad,’ said the Marquis, with a laugh. —
‘I wager, however, MasterPhilosopher, that you have not discovered what you went to England todo.’
’Pardon me,’ replied Julien; ‘I went there to dine once a week with HisMajesty’s Ambassador, who is the most courteous of men.’
‘You went to secure the Cross which is lying there’ the Marquis toldhim. —
‘I do not wish to make you lay aside your black coat, and I havegrown accustomed to the more amusing tone which I have adopted withthe man in blue. —
Until further orders, understand this: when I see thisCross, you are the younger son of my friend the Duc de Chaulnes, who,without knowing it, has been for the last six months employed in diplomacy. —
Observe,’ added the Marquis, with a highly serious air, cuttingshort Julien’s expressions of gratitude, ‘that I do not on any account wishyou to rise above your station. —
That is always a mistake, and a misfortune both for patron and for protege. —
When my lawsuits bore you, orwhen you no longer suit me I shall ask for a good living for you, like thatof our friend the abbe Pirard, and nothing more,’ the Marquis added, inthe driest of tones.
This Cross set Julien’s pride at rest; he began to talk far more freely. —
Hefelt himself less frequently insulted and made a butt by those remarks,susceptible of some scarcely polite interpretation, which, in the course ofan animated conversation, may fall from the lips of anyone.
His Cross was the cause of an unexpected visit; —
this was from M. leBaron de Valenod, who came to Paris to thank the Minister for hisBarony and to come to an understanding with him. —
He was going to beappointed Mayor of Verrieres in the place of M. de Renal.
Julien was consumed with silent laughter when M. de Valenod gavehim to understand that it had just been discovered that M de Renal was aJacobin. —
The fact was that, in a new election which was in preparation,the new Baron was the ministerial candidate, and in the combined constituency of the Department, which in reality was strongly Ultra, it wasM. de Renal who was being put forward by the Liberals.
It was in vain that Julien tried to learn something of Madame de Renal; —
the Baron appeared to remember their former rivalry, and was impenetrable. —
He ended by asking Julien for his father’s vote at the coming election. —
Julien promised to write.
’You ought, Monsieur le Chevalier, to introduce me to M. le Marquisde La Mole.’
’Indeed, so I ought,’ thought Julien; ‘but a rascal like this!’
’To be frank,’ he replied, ‘I am too humble a person in the Hotel de LaMole to take it upon me to introduce anyone.’
Julien told the Marquis everything: —
that evening he informed him ofValenod’s pretension, and gave an account of his life and actions since1814.
‘Not only,’ M. de La Mole replied, with a serious air, ‘will you introduce the new Baron to me tomorrow, but I shall invite him to dine theday after. —
He will be one of our new Prefects.’
’In that case,’ retorted Julien coldly, ‘I request the post of Governor ofthe Poorhouse for my father.’
‘Excellent,’ said the Marquis, recovering his gaiety; ‘granted; —
I was expecting a sermon. You are growing up.’
M. de Valenod informed Julien that the keeper of the lottery office atVerrieres had just died; —
Julien thought it amusing to bestow this placeupon M. de Cholin, the old imbecile whose petition he had picked up inthe room occupied there by M. de La Mole. The Marquis laughed heartily at the petition which Julien recited as he made him sign the letter applying for this post to the Minister of Finance.
No sooner had M. de Cholin been appointed than Julien learned thatthis post had been requested by the Deputies of the Department for M.
Gros, the celebrated geometrician: this noble-hearted man had an income of only fourteen hundred francs, and every year had been lending sixhundred francs to the late holder of the post, to help him to bring up hisfamily.
Julien was astonished at the effect of what he had done. ‘It is nothing,’
he told himself; ‘I must be prepared for many other acts of injustice, if Iam to succeed, and, what is more, must know how to conceal them, under a cloak of fine sentimental words: —
poor M, Gros! It is he that deserved the Cross, it is I that have it, and I must act according to thewishes of the Government that has given it to me.’
Chapter 8
What Is the Decoration that Confers Distinction?
Your water does not refresh me, said the thirsty genie. —
Yet it is thecoolest well in all the Diar Bekir.
PELLICOOne day Julien returned from the charming property of Villequier, onthe bank of the Seine, in which M. de La Mole took a special interest because, of all his estates, it was the only one that had belonged to the celebrated Boniface de La Mole. He found at the Hotel the Marquise andher daughter, who had returned from Hyeres.
Julien was now a dandy and understood the art of life in Paris. Hegreeted Mademoiselle de La Mole with perfect coolness. —
He appeared toremember nothing of the time when she asked him so gaily to tell her allabout his way of falling from his horse.
Mademoiselle de La Mole found him taller and paler. —
There was nolonger anything provincial about his figure or his attire; not so with hisconversation: —
this was still perceptibly too serious, too positive. —
In spiteof these sober qualities, and thanks to his pride, it conveyed no sense ofinferiority; —
one felt merely that he still regarded too many things as important. —
But one saw that he was a man who would stand by his word.
‘He is wanting in lightness of touch, but not in intelligence,’ Mademoiselle de La Mole said to her father, as she teased him over theCross he had given Julien. —
‘My brother has been asking you for it for thelast eighteen months, and he is a La Mole!’
’Yes; but Julien has novelty. That has never been the case with the LaMole you mention.’
M. le Duc de Retz was announced.
Mathilde felt herself seized by an irresistible desire to yawn; —
she recognised the antique decorations and the old frequenters of the paternal drawing-room. —
She formed an entirely boring picture of the life she wasgoing to resume in Paris. And yet at Hyeres she had longed for Paris.
‘To think that I am nineteen!’ she reflected: —
‘it is the age of happiness,according to all those gilt-edged idiots.’ —
She looked at nine or tenvolumes of recent poetry that had accumulated, during her absence inProvence, on the drawing-room table. —
It was her misfortune to havemore intelligence than MM. de Croisenois, de Caylus, de Luz, and therest of her friends. —
She could imagine everything that they would say toher about the beautiful sky in Provence, poetry, the south, etc., etc.
Those lovely eyes, in which was revealed the most profound boredom,and, what was worse still, a despair of finding any pleasure, came to restupon Julien. —
At any rate, he was not exactly like all the rest.
’Monsieur Sorel,’ she said in that short, sharp voice, with nothing feminine about it, which is used by young women of the highest rank,‘Monsieur Sorel, are you coming to M. de Retz’s ball tonight?’
‘Mademoiselle, I have not had the honour to be presented to M. leDuc.’ (One would have said that these words and the title burned the lipsof the proud provincial. —
)‘He has asked my brother to bring you; and, if you came, you couldtell me all about Villequier; —
there is some talk of our going there in thespring. —
I should like to know whether the house is habitable, and if thecountry round it is as pretty as people say. —
There are so many undeserved reputations!’
Julien made no reply.
’Come to the ball with my brother,’ she added, in the driest of tones.
Julien made a respectful bow. ‘So, even in the middle of a ball, I mustrender accounts to all the members of the family. —
Am I not paid to betheir man of business?’ In his ill humour, he added: —
‘Heaven only knowswhether what I tell the daughter may not upset the plans of her father,and brother, and mother! —
It is just like the court of a Sovereign Prince.
One is expected to be a complete nonentity, and at the same time give noone any grounds for complaint.
‘How I dislike that great girl!’ he thought, as he watched Mademoisellede La Mole cross the room, her mother having called her to introduce herto a number of women visitors. —
‘She overdoes all the fashions, her gownis falling off her shoulders … she is even paler than when she wentaway … What colourless hair, if that is what they call golden! —
You would say the light shone through it. —
How arrogant her way of bowing, of looking at people! —
What regal gestures!’
Mademoiselle de La Mole had called her brother back, as he was leaving the room.
Comte Norbert came up to Julien:
‘My dear Sorel,’ he began, ‘where would you like me to call for you atmidnight for M. de Retz’s ball? —
He told me particularly to bring you.’
’I know to whom I am indebted for such kindness,’ replied Julien,bowing to the ground.
His ill humour, having no fault to find with the tone of politeness, indeed of personal interest, in which Norbert had addressed him, venteditself upon the reply which he himself had made to this friendly speech.
He detected a trace of servility in it.
That night, on arriving at the ball, he was struck by the magnificenceof the Hotel de Retz. The courtyard was covered with an immense crimson awning patterned with golden stars: —
nothing could have been moreelegant. Beneath this awning, the court was transformed into a grove oforange trees and oleanders in blossom. —
As their tubs had been carefullyburied at a sufficient depth, these oleanders and orange trees seemed tobe springing from the ground. —
The carriage drive had been sprinkledwith sand.
The general effect seemed extraordinary to our provincial. —
He had noidea that such magnificence could exist; —
in an instant his imagination hadtaken wings and flown a thousand leagues away from ill humour. —
In thecarriage, on their way to the ball, Norbert had been happy, and he hadseen everything in dark colours; —
as soon as they entered the courtyardtheir moods were reversed.
Norbert was conscious only of certain details, which, in the midst of allthis magnificence, had been overlooked. —
He reckoned up the cost ofeverything, and as he arrived at a high total, Julien remarked that he appeared almost jealous of the outlay and began to sulk.
As for Julien, he arrived spell-bound with admiration, and almost timid with excess of emotion in the first of the saloons in which the company were dancing. —
Everyone was making for the door of the secondroom, and the throng was so great that he found it impossible to move.
This great saloon was decorated to represent the Alhambra of Granada.
’She is the belle of the ball, no doubt about it,’ said a young man withmoustaches, whose shoulder dug into Julien’s chest.
‘Mademoiselle Fourmont, who has been the reigning beauty allwinter,’ his companion rejoined, ‘sees that she must now take the secondplace: —
look how strangely she is frowning.’
‘Indeed she is hoisting all her canvas to attract. —
Look, look at that gracious smile as soon as she steps into the middle in that country dance. —
Itis inimitable, upon my honour.’
’Mademoiselle de La Mole has the air of being in full control of thepleasure she derives from her triumph, of which she is very well aware.
One would say that she was afraid of attracting whoever speaks to her.’
’Precisely! That is the art of seduction.’
Julien was making vain efforts to catch a glimpse of this seductive woman; —
seven or eight men taller than himself prevented him from seeingher.
’There is a good deal of coquetry in that noble reserve,’ went on theyoung man with the moustaches.
‘And those big blue eyes which droop so slowly just at the momentwhen one would say they were going to give her away,’ his companionadded. —
‘Faith, she’s a past master.’
’Look how common the fair Fourmont appears beside her,’ said athird.
‘That air of reserve is as much as to say: —
“How charming I should makemyself to you, if you were the man that was worthy of me.”’
’And who could be worthy of the sublime Mathilde?’ said the first:
’Some reigning Prince, handsome, clever, well made, a hero in battle, andaged twenty at the most.’
‘The natural son of the Emperor of Russia, for whom, on the occasionof such a marriage, a Kingdom would be created; —
or simply the Comtede Thaler, with his air of a peasant in his Sunday clothes … ‘
The passage was now cleared, Julien was free to enter.
‘Since she appears so remarkable in the eyes of these puppets, it isworth my while to study her,’ he thought. —
‘I shall understand what perfection means to these people.’
As he was trying to catch her eye, Mathilde looked at him. —
‘Duty callsme,’ Julien said to himself, but his resentment was now confined to hisexpression. —
Curiosity made him step forward with a pleasure which thelow cut of the gown on Mathilda’s shoulders rapidly enhanced, in amanner, it must be admitted, by no means flattering to his self-esteem.
‘Her beauty has the charm of youth,’ he thought. —
Five or six young men,among whom Julien recognised those whom he had heard talking in thedoorway, stood between her and him.
’You can tell me, Sir, as you have been here all the winter,’ she said tohim, ‘is it not true that this is the prettiest ball of the season?’ He made noanswer.
‘This Coulon quadrille seems to me admirable; and the ladies are dancing it quite perfectly.’ —
The young men turned round to see who the fortunate person was who was being thus pressed for an answer. —
It was notencouraging.
‘I should hardly be a good judge, Mademoiselle; I spend my time writing: —
this is the first ball on such a scale that I have seen.’
The moustached young men were shocked.
‘You are a sage, Monsieur Sorel,’ she went on with a more marked interest; —
‘you look upon all these balls, all these parties, like a philosopher,like a Jean-Jacques Rousseau. —
These follies surprise you without tempting you.’
A chance word had stifled Julien’s imagination and banished every illusion from his heart. —
His lips assumed an expression of disdain that wasperhaps slightly exaggerated.
‘Jean-Jacques Rousseau,’ he replied, ‘is nothing but a fool in my eyeswhen he takes it upon himself to criticise society; —
he did not understandit, and approached it with the heart of an upstart flunkey.’
’He wrote the Contrat Social,’ said Mathilde in a tone of veneration.
’For all his preaching a Republic and the overthrow of monarchicaltitles, the upstart is mad with joy if a Duke alters the course of his after-dinner stroll to accompany one of his friends.’
’Ah, yes! The Due de Luxembourg at Montmorency accompanies a M.
Coindet on the road to Paris,’ replied Mademoiselle de La Mole with theimpetuous delight of a first enjoyment of pedantry. —
She was overjoyed ather own learning, almost like the Academician who discovered the existence of King Feretrius. —
Julien’s eye remained penetrating and stern.
Mathilde had felt a momentary enthusiasm; her partner’s coldness disconcerted her profoundly. —
She was all the more astonished inasmuch asit was she who was in the habit of producing this effect upon otherpeople.
At that moment, the Marquis de Croisenois advanced eagerly towardsMademoiselle de La Mole. He stopped for a moment within a few feet of her, unable to approach her on account of the crowd. —
He looked at her,with a smile at the obstacle. The young Marquise de Rouvray was closebeside him; —
she was a cousin of Mathilde. She gave her arm to her husband, who had been married for only a fortnight. —
The Marquis de Rouvray, who was quite young also, showed all that fatuous love which seizesa man, who having made a ‘suitable’ marriage entirely arranged by thefamily lawyers, finds that he has a perfectly charming spouse. —
M. deRouvray would be a Duke on the death of an uncle of advanced years.
While the Marquis de Croisenois, unable to penetrate the throng,stood gazing at Mathilde with a smiling air, she allowed her large, sky-blue eyes to rest upon him and his neighbours. —
‘What could be duller,’
she said to herself, ‘than all that group! Look at Croisenois who hopes tomarry me; —
he is nice and polite, he has perfect manners like M. de Rouvray. —
If they did not bore me, these gentlemen would be quite charming.
He, too, will come to balls with me with that smug, satisfied air. —
A yearafter we are married, my carriage, my horses, my gowns, my countryhouse twenty leagues from Paris, everything will be as perfect as possible, just what is needed to make an upstart burst with envy, aComtesse de Roiville for instance; and after that?
Mathilde let her mind drift into the future. —
The Marquis de Croisenoissucceeded in reaching her, and spoke to her, but she dreamed onwithout listening. —
The sound of his voice was lost in the hubbub of theball. —
Her eye mechanically followed Julien, who had moved away with arespectful, but proud and discontented air. —
She saw in a corner, alooffrom the moving crowd, Conte Altamira, who was under sentence ofdeath in his own country, as the reader already knows. —
Under Louis XIV,a lady of his family had married a Prince de Conti; —
this antecedent protected him to some extent from the police of the Congregation.
’I can see nothing but a sentence of death that distinguishes a man,’
thought Mathilde: ‘it is the only thing that is not to be bought.
‘Ah! There is a witty saying that I have wasted on myself! —
What a pitythat it did not occur to me when I could have made the most of it!’ —
Mathilde had too much taste to lead up in conversation to a witticism prepared beforehand; —
but she had also too much vanity not to be delightedwith her own wit. —
An air of happiness succeeded the appearance of boredom in her face. —
The Marquis de Croisenois, who was still addressingher, thought he saw a chance of success, and doubled his loquacity.
‘What fault would anyone have to find with my remark?’ Mathildeasked herself. —
‘I should answer my critic: “A title of Baron, or Viscount, that can be bought; —
a Cross, that is given; my brother has just had one,what has he ever done? —
A step in promotion, that is obtained. Ten yearsof garrison duty, or a relative as Minister for War, and one becomes asquadron-commander, like Norbert. —
A great fortune! That is still themost difficult thing to secure, and therefore the most meritorious. —
Now isnot that odd? It is just the opposite to what all the books say … Well, tosecure a fortune, one marries M. Rothschild’s daughter.” —
‘My remark is really subtle. A death sentence is still the only thing forwhich no one has ever thought of asking.
’Do you know Conte Altamira?’ she asked M. de Croisenois.
She had the air of having come back to earth from so remote an abstraction, and this question bore so little relation to all that the poor Marquis had been saying to her for the last five minutes, that his friendlyfeelings were somewhat disconcerted. —
He was, however, a man of readywit, and highly esteemed in that capacity.
‘Mathilde is certainly odd,’ he thought; —
‘it is a drawback, but she givesher husband such a splendid social position! —
I cannot think how the Marquis de La Mole manages it; —
he is on intimate terms with the best peoplein every party, he is a man who cannot fall. —
Besides, this oddity in Mathilde may pass for genius. —
Given noble birth and an ample fortune, geniusis not to be laughed at, and then, what distinction! —
She has such a command, too, when she pleases, of that combination of wit, character andaptness, which makes conversation perfect… ’ As it is hard to do twothings well at the same time, the Marquis answered Mathilde with a vacant air, and as though repeating a lesson:
’Who does not know poor Altamira?’ and he told her the story of theabsurd, abortive conspiracy.
‘Most absurd!’ said Mathilde, as though speaking to herself, ‘but he hasdone something. —
I wish to see a man; bring him to me,’ she said to theMarquis, who was deeply shocked.
Conte Altamira was one of the most openly professed admirers of thehaughty and almost impertinent air of Mademoiselle de La Mole; —
shewas, according to him, one of the loveliest creatures in Paris.
‘How beautiful she would be on a throne!’ —
he said to M. de Croisenois,and made no difficulty about allowing himself to be led to her.
There are not wanting in society people who seek to establish the principle that nothing is in such bad tone as a conspiracy; —
it reeks of Jacobinism. And what can be more vile than an unsuccessful Jacobin?
Mathilde’s glance derided Altamira’s Liberalism to M. de Croisenois,but she listened to him with pleasure.
‘A conspirator at a ball, it is a charming contrast,’ she thought. —
In thisconspirator, with his black moustaches, she detected a resemblance to alion in repose; —
but she soon found that his mind had but one attitude:
utility, admiration for utility.
Excepting only what might bring to his country Two Chamber government, the young Count felt that nothing was worthy of his attention. —
Heparted from Mathilde, the most attractive person at the ball, with pleasure because he had seen a Peruvian General enter the room.
Despairing of Europe, poor Altamira had been reduced to hoping that,when the States of South America became strong and powerful, theymight restore to Europe the freedom which Mirabeau had sent to them.
10A swarm of young men with moustaches had gathered round Mathilde. —
She had seen quite well that Altamira was not attracted, and feltpiqued by his desertion of her; —
she saw his dark eye gleam as he spoke tothe Peruvian General. —
Mademoiselle de La Mole studied the youngFrenchmen with that profound seriousness which none of her rivals wasable to imitate. —
‘Which of them,’ she thought, ‘could ever be sentenced todeath, even allowing him the most favourable conditions?’
This singular gaze flattered those who had little intelligence, but disturbed the rest. —
They feared the explosion of some pointed witticismwhich it would be difficult to answer.
‘Good birth gives a man a hundred qualities the absence of whichwould offend me: —
I see that in Julien’s case,’ thought Mathilde; —
‘but itdestroys those qualities of the spirit which make people be sentenced todeath.’
At that moment someone remarked in her hearing: —
‘That ConteAltamira is the second son of the Principe di San Nazaro-Pimentel; —
it wasa Pimentel who attempted to save Conradin, beheaded in 1268. —
They areone of the noblest families of Naples.’
’There,’ Mathilde said to herself, ‘is an excellent proof of my maxim:
Good birth destroys the strength of character without which people do10. —
This page, written on July 25, 1830, was printed on August 4. (Publisher’s note. —
)—Le Rouge et le Noir was published in 1831. —
It was an order of July 25, 1830, dissolving the Chamber, which provoked the Revolution of the following days, the abdication of Charles X, and the accession of Louis-Phillippe—C. K. S. M.
not incur sentences of death. I seem fated to go wrong this evening. —
SinceI am only a woman like any other, well, I must dance.’ —
She yielded to thepersistence of the Marquis de Croisenois, who for the last hour had beenpleading for a galop. —
To distract her thoughts from her philosophicalfailure, Mathilde chose to be perfectly bewitching; —
M. de Croisenois wasin ecstasies.
But not the dance, nor the desire to please one of the handsomest menat court, nothing could distract Mathilde. —
She could not possibly haveenjoyed a greater triumph. —
She was the queen of the ball, she knew it,but she remained cold.
‘What a colourless life I shall lead with a creature like Croisenois,’ shesaid to herself, as he led her back to her place an hour later … ‘Whatpleasure can there be for me,’ she went on sadly, ‘if after an absence ofsix months, I do not find any in a ball which is the envy of all the womenin Paris? —
And moreover I am surrounded by the homage of a societywhich could not conceivably be more select. —
There is no plebeian element here except a few peers and a Julien or two perhaps. —
And yet,’ sheadded, with a growing melancholy, ‘what advantages has not fate bestowed on me! —
Birth, wealth, youth! Everything, alas, but happiness.
‘The most dubious of my advantages are those of which they havebeen telling me all evening. —
Wit, I know I have, for obviously I frightenthem all. —
If they venture to broach a serious subject, after five minutes ofconversation they all arrive out of breath, and as though making a greatdiscovery, at something which I have been repeating to them for the lasthour. —
I am beautiful, I have that advantage for which Madame de Staelwould have sacrificed everything, and yet the fact remains that I am dying of boredom. —
Is there any reason why I should be less bored when Ihave changed my name to that of the Marquis de Croisenois?
‘But, Lord!’ she added, almost in tears, ‘is he not a perfect man? —
He isthe masterpiece of the education of the age; —
one cannot look at himwithout his thinking of something pleasant, and even clever, to say toone; —
he is brave … But that Sorel is a strange fellow,’ she said to herself,and the look of gloom in her eye gave place to a look of anger. —
‘I told himthat I had something to say to him, and he does not condescend toreturn!’
Chapter 9
The BallThe splendour of the dresses, the blaze of the candles, the perfumes; —
all those rounded arms, and fine shoulders; —
bouquets, thesound of Rossini’s music, pictures by Ciceri! —
I am beside myself!
Travels of Uzeri’You are feeling cross,’ the Marquise de La Mole said to her; —
‘I warnyou, that is not good manners at a ball.’
’It is only a headache,’ replied Mathilde contemptuously, ‘it is too hotin here.’
At that moment, as though to corroborate Mademoiselle de La Mole,the old Baron de Tolly fainted and fell to the ground; —
he had to be carriedout. There was talk of apoplexy, it was a disagreeable incident.
Mathilde did not give it a thought. —
It was one of her definite habitsnever to look at an old man or at anyone known to be given to talkingabout sad things.
She danced to escape the conversation about the apoplexy, which wasnothing of the sort, for a day or two later the Baron reappeared.
‘But M. Sorel does not appear,’ she said to herself again after she hadfinished dancing. —
She was almost searching for him with her eyes whenshe caught sight of him in another room. —
Strange to say, he seemed tohave shed the tone of impassive coldness which was so natural to him; —
he had no longer the air of an Englishman.
‘He is talking to Conte Altamira, my condemned man!’ Mathilde saidto herself. —
‘His eye is ablaze with a sombre fire; he has the air of a Princein disguise; —
the arrogance of his gaze has increased.’
Julien was coming towards the spot where she was, still talking toAltamira; —
she looked fixedly at him, studying his features in search ofthose lofty qualities which may entitle a man to the honour of being sentenced to death.
As he passed by her:
’Yes,’ he was saying to Conte Altamira, ‘Danton was a man!’
‘Oh, heavens! Is he to be another Danton,’ thought Mathilde; —
‘but hehas such a noble face, and that Danton was so horribly ugly, a butcher, Ifancy.’ —
Julien was still quite near her, she had no hesitation in calling tohim; —
she was conscious and proud of asking a question that was extraordinary, coming from a girl.
’Was not Danton a butcher?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, in the eyes of certain people,’ Julien answered her with an expression of the most ill-concealed scorn, his eye still ablaze from his conversation with Altamira, ‘but unfortunately for people of birth, he was alawyer at Mery-sur-Seine; —
that is to say, Mademoiselle,’ he went on withan air of sarcasm, ‘that he began life like several of the Peers whom I seehere this evening. —
It is true that Danton had an enormous disadvantagein the eyes of beauty: —
he was extremely ugly.’
The last words were uttered rapidly, with an extraordinary and certainly far from courteous air.
Julien waited for a moment, bowing slightly from the waist and withan arrogantly humble air. —
He seemed to be saying: ‘I am paid to answeryou, and I live upon my pay.’ —
He did not deign to raise his eyes to herface. —
She, with her fine eyes opened extraordinarily wide and fastenedupon him, seemed like his slave. —
At length, as the silence continued, helooked at her as a servant looks at his master, when receiving orders. —
Although his eyes looked full into those of Mathilde, still fastened uponhim with a strange gaze, he withdrew with marked alacrity.
’That he, who really is so handsome,’ Mathilde said to herself at length,awakening from her dreams, ‘should pay such a tribute to ugliness!
Never a thought of himself! He is not like Caylus or Croisenois. —
ThisSorel has something of the air my father adopts when he is playing theNapoleon, at a ball.’ —
She had entirely forgotten Danton. ‘No doubt aboutit, I am bored this evening.’ —
She seized her brother by the arm, and,greatly to his disgust, forced him to take her for a tour of the rooms. —
Theidea occurred to her of following the condemned man’s conversationwith Julien.
The crowd was immense. She succeeded, however, in overtaking themat the moment when, just in front of her, Altamira had stopped by a trayof ices to help himself. —
He was talking to Julien, half turning towardshim. —
He saw an arm in a braided sleeve stretched out to take an ice from the same tray. —
The gold lace seemed to attract his attention; he turnedround bodily to see whose this arm was. —
Immediately his eyes, so nobleand unaffected, assumed a slight expression of scorn.
‘You see that man,’ he murmured to Julien; —
‘he is the Principed’Araceli, the —— Ambassador. —
This morning he applied for my extradition to your French Foreign Minister, M. de Nerval. —
Look, there he isover there, playing whist. —
M. de Nerval is quite ready to give me up, forwe gave you back two or three conspirators in 1816. —
If they surrender meto my King I shall be hanged within twenty-four hours. —
And it will beone of those pretty gentlemen with moustaches who will seize me.’
’The wretches!’ exclaimed Julien, half aloud.
Mathilde did not lose a syllable of their conversation. Her boredomhad vanished.
‘Not such wretches as all that,’ replied Conte Altamira. —
‘I have spokento you of myself to impress you with a real instance. Look at Principed’Araceli; —
every five minutes he casts a glance at his Golden Fleece; —
hecannot get over the pleasure of seeing that trinket on his breast. —
The poorman is really nothing worse than an anachronism. —
A hundred years ago,the Golden Fleece was a signal honour, but then it would have been farabove his head. —
Today, among people of breeding, one must be anAraceli to be thrilled by it. —
He would have hanged a whole town to obtain it.’
’Was that the price he paid for it?’ said Julien, with anxiety.
‘Not exactly,’ replied Altamira coldly; —
‘he perhaps had some thirtywealthy landowners of his country, who were supposed to be Liberals,flung into the river.’
’What a monster!’ said Julien again.
Mademoiselle de La Mole, leaning forward with the keenest interest,was so close to him that her beautiful hair almost brushed his shoulder.
‘You are very young!’ replied Altamira. ‘I told you that I have a married sister in Provence; —
she is still pretty, good, gentle; she is an excellentmother, faithful to all her duties, pious without bigotry.’
’What is he leading up to?’ thought Mademoiselle de La Mole.
‘She is happy,’ Conte Altamira continued; ‘she was happy in 1815. —
Atthat time I was in hiding there, on her property near Antibes; —
well, assoon as she heard of the execution of Marshal Ney, she began to dance!’
’Is it possible?’ said the horrified Julien.
‘It is the partisan spirit,’ replied Altamira. —
There are no longer anygenuine passions in the nineteenth century; —
that is why people are sobored in France. —
We commit the greatest cruelties, but without cruelty.’
‘All the worse!’ said Julien; ‘at least, when we commit crimes, weshould commit them with pleasure: —
that is the only good thing aboutthem, and the only excuse that can in any way justify them.’
Mademoiselle de La Mole, entirely forgetting what she owed to herself, had placed herself almost bodily between Altamira and Julien. —
Herbrother, upon whose arm she leaned, being accustomed to obey her, waslooking about the room, and, to hide his lack of composure, pretendingto be held up by the crowd.
‘You are right,’ said Altamira; ‘we do everything without pleasure andwithout remembering it afterwards, even our crimes. —
I can point out toyou at this ball ten men, perhaps, who will be damned as murderers.
They have forgotten it, and the world also. —
11’Many of them are moved to tears if their dog breaks its paw. —
At Pere-Lachaise, when people strew flowers on their graves, as you so charmingly say in Paris, we are told that they combined all the virtues of theknights of old, and we hear of the great deeds of their ancestor who livedin the days of Henri IV: —
If, despite the good offices of Principe d’Araceli, Iam not hanged, and if I ever come to enjoy my fortune in Paris, I hope toinvite you to dine with nine or ten murderers who are honoured and feelno remorse.
’You and I, at that dinner, will be the only two whose hands are freefrom blood, but I shall be despised and almost hated, as a bloody and Jacobinical monster, and you will simply be despised as a plebeian whohas thrust his way into good society.’
’Nothing could be more true,’ said Mademoiselle de La Mole.
Altamira looked at her in astonishment; Julien did not deign to look ather.
‘Note that the revolution at the head of which I found myself,’ ConteAltamira went on, ‘was unsuccessful, solely because I would not cut offthree heads, and distribute among our supporters seven or eight millionswhich happened to be in a safe of which I held the key. —
My King, who isnow burning to have me hanged, and who, before the revolt, used to address me as tu, would have given me the Grand Cordon of his Order if Ihad cut off those three heads and distributed the money in those safes:
11.‘A malcontent is speaking.’ (Note by Moliere to Tartuffe. —
) for then I should have scored at least a partial success, and my countrywould have had a Charter of sorts … Such is the way of the world, it is agame of chess.’
’Then,’ replied Julien, his eyes ablaze, ‘you did not know the game;now … ‘
‘I should cut off the heads, you mean, and I should not be a Girondinas you gave me to understand the other day? —
I will answer you,’ saidAltamira sadly, ‘when you have killed a man in a duel, and that is a greatdeal less unpleasant than having him put to death by a headsman.’
‘Faith!’ said Julien, ‘the end justifies the means; —
if, instead of being amere atom, I had any power, I would hang three men to save the lives offour.’
His eyes expressed the fire of conscience and a contempt for the vainjudgments of men; —
they met those of Mademoiselle de La Mole whostood close beside him, and this contempt, instead of changing into anair of gracious civility, seemed to intensify.
It shocked her profoundly; but it no longer lay in her power to forgetJulien; —
she moved indifferently away, taking her brother with her.
’I must take some punch, and dance a great deal,’ she said to herself, ‘Iintend to take the best that is going, and to create an effect at all costs.
Good, here comes that master of impertinence, the Comte de Fervaques.’
She accepted his invitation; they danced. —
‘It remains to be seen,’ shethought, ‘which of us will be the more impertinent, but, to get the full enjoyment out of him, I must make him talk.’ —
Presently all the rest of thecountry dance became a pure formality. —
No one was willing to miss anyof Mathilde’s piquant repartees. —
M. de Fervaques grew troubled, and, being able to think of nothing but elegant phrases, in place of ideas, beganto smirk; —
Mathilde, who was out of temper, treated him cruelly, andmade an enemy of him. —
She danced until daybreak, and finally wenthome horribly tired. —
But, in the carriage, the little strength that remainedto her was still employed in making her melancholy and wretched. —
Shehad been scorned by Julien, and was unable to scorn him.
Julien was on a pinnacle of happiness. —
Carried away unconsciously bythe music, the flowers, the beautiful women, the general elegance, and,most of all, by his own imagination, which dreamed of distinctions forhimself and of liberty for mankind:
’What a fine ball!’ he said to the Conte, ‘nothing is lacking.’
’Thought is lacking,’ replied Altamira.
And his features betrayed that contempt which is all the more strikingbecause one sees that politeness makes it a duty to conceal it.
’You are here, Monsieur le Comte. Is not that thought, and activelyconspiring, too?’
‘I am here because of my name. But they hate thought in yourdrawing-rooms. —
It must never rise above the level of a comic song: thenit is rewarded. —
But the man who thinks, if he shows energy and noveltyin his sallies, you call a cynic. —
Is not that the name that one of your judgesbestowed upon Courier? You put him in prison, and Beranger also.
Everything that is of any value among you, intellectually, the Congregation flings to the criminal police; —
and society applauds.
‘The truth is that your antiquated society values conventionality aboveeverything … You will never rise higher than martial gallantry; —
you willhave Murats, but never a Washington. I can see nothing in France butvanity. —
A man who thinks of things as he speaks may easily saysomething rash, and his host then imagines himself insulted.’
At this point, the Conte’s carriage, which was taking Julien home,stopped at the Hotel de La Mole. Julien was in love with his conspirator.
Altamira had paid him a handsome compliment, evidently springingfrom a profound conviction: —
‘You have not the French frivolity, and youunderstand the principle of utility.’ —
It so happened that, only two evenings before, Julien had seen Marino Faliero, a tragedy by M. CasimirDelavigne.
‘Has not Israel Bertuccio more character than all those Venetiannobles?’ —
our rebellious plebeian asked himself; ‘and yet they are menwhose noble descent can be proved as far back as the year 700, a centurybefore Charlemagne; —
whereas the bluest blood at M. de Retz’s ball tonight does not go farther back, and that only by a hop, skip and jump,than the thirteenth century. —
Very well! Among those Venetian nobles, sogreat by birth, it is Israel Bertuccio that one remembers.
‘A conspiracy wipes out all the titles conferred by social caprice. —
Inthose conditions, a man springs at once to the rank which his manner offacing death assigns to him. —
The mind itself loses some of its authority …’What would Danton be today, in this age of Valenods and Renais?
Not even a Deputy Crown Prosecutor …’What am I saying? —
He would have sold himself to the Congregation; —
hewould be a Minister, for after all the great Danton did steal. Mirabeau,too, sold himself. —
Napoleon stole millions in Italy, otherwise he would have been brought to a standstill by poverty, like Pichegru. —
Only La Fayette never stole. Must one steal, must one sell oneself?’ Julien wondered.
The question arrested the flow of his imagination. —
He spent the rest ofthe night reading the history of the Revolution.
Next day, as he copied his letters in the library, he could still think ofnothing but Conte Altamira’s conversation.
‘It is quite true,’ he said to himself, after a long spell of absorption; —
‘ifthose Spanish Liberals had compromised the people by a few crimes,they would not have been swept away so easily. —
They were conceited,chattering boys … like myself!’ —
Julien suddenly cried, as though awakingwith a bound.
‘What difficult thing have I ever done that gives me the right to judgepoor devils who, after all, once in their lives, have dared, have begun toact? —
I am like a man who, on rising from table, exclaims: “Tomorrow Ishall not dine; —
that will not prevent me from feeling strong and brisk as Ido today.” —
How can I tell what people feel in the middle of a great action? —
… ’ These lofty thoughts were interrupted by the sudden arrival ofMademoiselle de La Mole, who at this moment entered the library. —
Hewas so excited by his admiration for the great qualities of Danton, Mirabeau, Carnot, who had contrived not to be crushed, that his eyes restedupon Mademoiselle de La Mole, but without his thinking of her, withouthis greeting her, almost without his seeing her. —
When at length his greatstaring eyes became aware of her presence, the light died out in them.
Mademoiselle de La Mole remarked this with a feeling of bitterness.
In vain did she ask him for a volume of Vely’s Histoire de France whichstood on the highest shelf, so that Julien was obliged to fetch the longerof the two ladders. —
He brought the ladder; he found the volume, hehanded it to her, still without being able to think of her. —
As he carriedback the ladder, in his preoccupation, his elbow struck one of the glasspanes protecting the shelves; —
the sound of the splinters falling on thefloor at length aroused him. —
He hastened to make his apology to Mademoiselle de La Mole; —
he tried to be polite, but he was nothing more.
Mathilde saw quite plainly that she had disturbed him, that he wouldhave preferred to dream of what had been occupying his mind beforeher entry, rather than to talk to her. —
After a long glance at him, sheslowly left the room. Julien watched her as she went. —
He enjoyed thecontrast between the simplicity of the attire she was now wearing andher sumptuous magnificence overnight. —
The difference in herphysiognomy was hardly less striking. —
This girl, so haughty at the Duc de Retz’s ball, had at this moment almost a suppliant look. —
‘Really,’ Julientold himself, ‘that black gown shows off the beauty of her figure betterthan anything; —
but why is she in mourning?
‘If I ask anyone the reason of this mourning, I shall only make myselfappear a fool as usual.’ —
Julien had quite come to earth from the soaringflight of his enthusiasm. —
‘I must read over all the letters I have writtentoday; —
Heaven knows how many missing words and blunders I shallfind.’ —
As he was reading with forced attention the first of these letters, heheard close beside him the rustle of a silken gown; —
he turned sharplyround; Mademoiselle de La Mole was standing by his table, and smiling.
This second interruption made Julien lose his temper.
As for Mathilde, she had just become vividly aware that she meantnothing to this young man; —
her smile was intended to cover her embarrassment, and proved successful.
‘Evidently, you are thinking about something that is extremely interesting, Monsieur Sorel. Is it by any chance some curious anecdote of theconspiracy that has sent the Conte Altamira here to Paris? —
Tell me whatit is? I am burning to know; I shall be discreet, I swear to you!’ —
This lastsentence astonished her as she uttered it. —
What, she was pleading with asubordinate! —
Her embarrassment grew, she adopted a light manner:
’What can suddenly have turned you, who are ordinarily so cold, intoan inspired creature, a sort of Michelangelo prophet?’
This bold and indiscreet question, cutting Julien to the quick, revivedall his passion.
‘Was Danton justified in stealing?’ —
he said to her sharply, and with anair that grew more and more savage. —
‘The Revolutionaries of Piedmont,of Spain, ought they to have compromised the people by crimes? —
Tohave given away, even to men without merit, all the commands in thearmy, all the Crosses? —
Would not the men who wore those Crosses havehad reason to fear a Restoration of their King? —
Ought they to have let theTreasury in Turin be pillaged? —
In a word, Mademoiselle,’ he said, as hecame towards her with a terrible air, ‘ought the man who seeks to banishignorance and crime from the earth to pass like a whirlwind and do evilas though blindly?’
Mathilde was afraid, she could not meet his gaze, and recoiled a little.
She looked at him for a moment; then, ashamed of her fear, with a lightstep left the library.
Chapter 10
Queen MargueriteLove! In what folly do you not contrive to make us find pleasure?
Letters of a Portuguese NunJulien read over his letters. When the dinner bell sounded: —
‘How ridiculous I must have appeared in the eyes of that Parisian doll!’ —
he saidto himself; ‘what madness to tell her what was really in my thoughts!
And yet perhaps not so very mad. The truth on this occasion was worthyof me.
‘Why, too, come and cross-examine me on private matters? Her question was indiscreet. —
She forgot herself. My thoughts on Danton form nopart of the sacrifice for which her father pays me.’
On reaching the dining-room, Julien was distracted from his ill humour by Mademoiselle de La Mole’s deep mourning, which was all themore striking since none of the rest of the family was in black.
After dinner, he found himself entirely recovered from the fit of enthusiasm which had possessed him all day. —
Fortunately, the Academicianwho knew Latin was present at dinner. —
There is the man who will beleast contemptuous of me, if, as I suppose, my question about Mademoiselle de La Mole’s mourning should prove a blunder.’
Mathilde was looking at him with a singular expression. —
‘There wehave an instance of the coquetry of the women of these parts, just as Madame de Renal described it to me,’ Julien told himself. —
‘I was not agreeable to her this morning, I did not yield to her impulse for conversation.
My value has increased in her eyes. No doubt the devil loses no opportunity there. —
Later on, her proud scorn will find out a way of avenging itself. —
Let her do her worst. How different from the woman I have lost!
What natural charm! What simplicity! I knew what was in her mind before she did; —
I could see her thoughts take shape; I had no competitor, inher heart, but the fear of losing her children; —
it was a reasonable and natural affection, indeed it was pleasant for me who felt the same fear. —
Iwas a fool. The ideas that I had I formed of Paris prevented me from appreciating that sublime woman.
‘What a difference, great God! And what do I find here? —
A sere andhaughty vanity, all the refinements of self-esteem and nothing more.’
The party left the table. ‘I must not let my Academician be intercepted,’
said Julien. He went up to him as they were moving into the garden, assumed a meek, submissive air, and sympathised with his rage at the success of Hernani.
’If only we lived in the days of lettres de cachet!’ he said.
’Ah, then he would never have dared,’ cried the Academician, with agesture worthy of Talma.
In speaking of a flower, Julien quoted a line or two from Virgil’s Georgics, and decided that nothing came up to the poetry of the abbe Delille.
In short, he flattered the Academician in every possible way. —
Afterwhich, with an air of the utmost indifference: —
‘I suppose,’ he said to him,‘that Mademoiselle de La Mole has received a legacy from some uncle forwhom she is in mourning.’
‘What! You live in the house,’ said the Academician, coming to astandstill, ‘and you don’t know her mania? —
Indeed, it is strange that hermother allows such things; —
but, between you and me, it is not exactly bystrength of character that they shine in this family. —
Mademoiselle Mathilde has enough for them all, and leads them by the nose. —
Today is the3Oth of April!’ and the Academician broke off, looking at Julien, with anair of connivance. —
Julien smiled as intelligently as he was able.
‘What connection can there be between leading a whole household bythe nose, wearing black and the 30th of April?’ —
he asked himself. ‘I mustbe even stupider than I thought.
’I must confess to you,’ he said to the Academician, and his eye continued the question.
‘Let us take a turn in the garden,’ said the Academician, delighted tosee this chance of delivering a long and formal speech. —
‘What! Is it reallypossible that you do not know what happened on the 30th of April,1574?’
’Where?’ asked Julien, in surprise.
’On the Place de Greve.’
Julien was so surprised that this name did not enlighten him. —
His curiosity, the prospect of a tragic interest, so attuned to his nature, gave himthose sparkling eyes which a story-teller so loves to see in his audience.
The Academician, delighted to find a virgin ear, related at full length toJulien how, on the 30th of April, 1574, the handsomest young man of hisage, Boniface de La Mole, and Annibal de Coconasso, a Piedmontesegentleman, his friend, had been beheaded on the Place de Greve. ‘LaMole was the adored lover of Queen Marguerite of Navarre; —
and observe,’ the Academician added, ‘that Mademoiselle de La Mole is namedMathilde-Marguerite. —
La Mole was at the same time the favourite of theDuc d’Alencon and an intimate friend of the King of Navarre, afterwardsHenri IV, the husband of his mistress. —
On Shrove Tuesday in this year,1574, the Court happened to be at Saint-Germain, with the unfortunateKing Charles IX, who was on his deathbed. —
La Mole wished to carry offthe Princes, his friends, whom Queen Catherine de’ Medici was keepingas prisoners with the Court. He brought up two hundred horsemen under the walls of Saint-Germain, the Due d’Alencon took fright, and LaMole was sent to the scaffold.
‘But what appeals to Mademoiselle Mathilde, as she told me herself,seven or eight years ago, when she was only twelve, for she has a head,such a head! —
… ’ and the Academician raised his eyes to heaven. —
‘Whatimpresses her in this political catastrophe is that Queen Marguerite ofNavarre, who had waited concealed in a house on the Place de Greve,made bold to ask the executioner for her lover’s head. —
And the followingnight, at midnight, she took the head in her carriage, and went to bury itwith her own hands in a chapel which stood at the foot of the hill ofMontmartre.’
’Is it possible?’ exclaimed Julien, deeply touched.
‘Mademoiselle Mathilde despises her brother because, as you see, hethinks nothing of all this ancient history, and never goes into mourningon the 30th of April. It is since this famous execution, and to recall the intimate friendship between La Mole and Coconasso, which Coconasso,being as he was an Italian, was named Annibal, that all the men of thisfamily have borne that name. —
And,’ the Academician went on, loweringhis voice, ‘this Coconasso was, on the authority of Charles IX, himself,one of the bloodiest assassins on the 24th of August, 1572. —
. But how is itpossible, my dear Sorel, that you are ignorant of these matters, you, whoare an inmate of the house?’
‘Then that is why twice, during the dinner, Mademoiselle de La Moleaddressed her brother as Annibal. —
I thought I had not heard aright.’
’It was a reproach. It is strange that the Marquise permits such folly …That great girl’s husband will see some fine doings!’
This expression was followed by five or six satirical phrases. —
The joy atthus revealing an intimate secret that shone in the Academician’s eyesshocked Julien. —
‘What are we but a pair of servants engaged in slandering our employers?’ he thought. —
‘But nothing ought to surprise me that isdone by this academic gentleman.’
One day Julien had caught him on his knees before the Marquise de LaMole; —
he was begging her for a tobacco licence for a nephew in the country. —
That night, he gathered from a little maid of Mademoiselle de LaMole, who was making love to him, as Elisa had done in the past, thather mistress’s mourning was by no means put on to attract attention.
This eccentricity was an intimate part of her nature. —
She really loved thisLa Mole, the favoured lover of the most brilliant Queen of her age, whohad died for having sought to set his friends at liberty. —
And whatfriends! The First Prince of the Blood and Henri IV.
Accustomed to the perfect naturalness that shone through the whole ofMadame de Renal’s conduct, Julien saw nothing but affectation in all thewomen of Paris, and even without feeling disposed to melancholy, couldthink of nothing to say to them. —
Mademoiselle de La Mole was theexception.
He began no longer to mistake for hardness of heart the kind of beautythat goes with nobility of bearing. —
He had long conversations with Mademoiselle de La Mole, who would stroll with him in the garden sometimes after dinner, past the open windows of the drawing-room. —
She toldhim one day that she was reading d’Aubigne’s History, and Brantome. —
‘Astrange choice,’ thought Julien, ‘and the Marquise does not allow her toread the novels of Walter Scott!’
One day she related to him, with that glow of pleasure in her eyeswhich proves the sincerity of the speaker’s admiration, the feat of ayoung woman in the reign of Henri in, which she had just discovered inthe Memoires by l’Etoile: —
finding that her husband was unfaithful, shehad stabbed him.
Julien’s self-esteem was flattered. —
A person surrounded by such deference, one who, according to the Academician, was the leader of thehousehold, deigned to address him in a tone which might almost be regarded as friendly. —
‘I was mistaken,’ was his next thought; ‘this is not familiarity, I am only the listener to a tragic story, it is the need to speak.
I am regarded as learned by this family. I shall go and read Brantome,d’Aubigne, l’Etoile. —
I shall be able to challenge some of the anecdoteswhich Mademoiselle de La Mole cites to me. —
I must emerge from thispart of a passive listener.’
In course of time his conversations with this girl, whose manner was atonce so imposing and so easy, became more interesting. —
He forgot hismelancholy role as a plebeian in revolt. He found her learned and indeedrational. —
Her opinions in the garden differed widely from those whichshe maintained in the drawing-room. —
At times she displayed with himan enthusiasm and a frankness which formed a perfect contrast with hernormal manner, so haughty and cold.
‘The Wars of the League are the heroic age of France,’ she said to himone day, her eyes aflame with intellect and enthusiasm. —
‘Then everyonefought to secure a definite object which he desired in order to make hisparty triumph, and not merely to win a stupid Cross as in the days ofyour Emperor. —
You must agree that there was less egoism and pettiness.
I love that period.’
’And Boniface de La Mole was its hero,’ he said to her.
‘At any rate he was loved as it is perhaps pleasant to be loved. —
Whatwoman alive today would not be horrified to touch the head of her decapitated lover?’
Madame de La Mole called her daughter indoors. Hypocrisy, to be effective, must be concealed; —
and Julien, as we see, had taken Mademoiselle de La Mole partly into his confidence as to his admiration forNapoleon.
‘That is the immense advantage which they have over us,’ he said tohimself, when left alone in the garden. —
‘The history of their ancestorsraises them above vulgar sentiments, and they have not always to bethinking of their daily bread! —
What a wretched state of things!’ he addedbitterly. —
‘I am not worthy to discuss these serious matters. —
My life isnothing more than a sequence of hypocrisies, because I have not an income of a thousand francs with which to buy my bread.’
’What are you dreaming of, Sir?’ Mathilde asked him, running backoutdoors.
Julien was tired of despising himself. —
In a moment of pride, he told herfrankly what he was thinking. —
He blushed deeply when speaking of hispoverty to a person who was so rich. —
He sought to make it quite clear by his proud tone that he asked for nothing. —
Never had he seemed so handsome to Mathilde; —
she found in him an expression of sensibility andfrankness which he often lacked.
Less than a month later, Julien was strolling pensively in the garden ofthe Hotel de La Mole; —
but his features no longer showed the harshness,as of a surly philosopher, which the constant sense of his own inferiorityimpressed on them. —
He had just come from the door of the drawing-room to which he had escorted Mademoiselle de La Mole, who pretended that she had hurt her foot when running with her brother.
‘She leaned upon my arm in the strangest fashion!’ Julien said to himself. —
‘Am I a fool, or can it be true that she has a liking for me? —
She listensto me so meekly even when I confess to her all the sufferings of mypride! —
She, who is so haughty with everyone else! —
They would be greatlysurprised in the drawing-room if they saw her looking like that. —
There isno doubt about it, she never assumes that meek, friendly air with anyonebut myself.’
Julien tried not to exaggerate this singular friendship. —
He compared ithimself to an armed neutrality. —
Day by day, when they met, before resuming the almost intimate tone of the day before, they almost askedthemselves: —
‘Are we friends today, or enemies?’ Julien had realised that,were he once to allow himself to be insulted with impunity by thishaughty girl, all was lost. —
‘If I must quarrel, is it not to my advantage todo so from the first, in defending the lawful rights of my pride, ratherthan in repelling the marks of contempt that must quickly follow theslightest surrender of what I owe to my personal dignity?’
Several times, on days of mutual discord, Mathilde tried to adopt withhim the tone of a great lady; —
she employed a rare skill in these attempts,but Julien repulsed them rudely.
One day he interrupted her suddenly: —
‘Has Mademoiselle de La Molesome order to give to her father’s secretary?’ he asked her; —
‘he is obligedto listen to her orders and to carry them out with respect; —
but apart fromthat, he has not one word to say to her. —
He certainly is not paid to communicate his thoughts to her.’
This state of affairs, and the singular doubts which Julien felt banishedthe boredom which he found regularly in that drawing-room, in which,for all its magnificence, people were afraid of everything, and it was notthought proper to treat any subject lightly.
’It would be amusing if she loved me! Whether she loves me or not,’
Julien went on, ‘I have as my intimate confidant an intelligent girl, before whom I see the whole household tremble, and most of all the Marquis deCroisenois. —
That young man who is so polished, so gentle, so brave, whocombines in his own person all the advantages of birth and fortune, anyone of which would set my heart so at ease! —
He is madly in love with her,he is going to marry her. —
Think of all the letters M. de La Mole has mademe write to the two lawyers arranging the contract! —
And I who see myself so subordinate, pen in hand, two hours later, here in the garden, I triumph over so attractive a young man: —
for after all, her preference is striking, direct. —
Perhaps, too, she hates the idea of him as a future husband.
She is proud enough for that. And the favour she shows me, I obtain onthe footing of a confidential servant!
‘But no, either I am mad, or she is making love to me; —
the more I showmyself cold and respectful towards her, the more she seeks me out. —
Thatmight be deliberate, an affectation; —
but I see her eyes become animatedwhen I appear unexpectedly. —
Are the women of Paris capable of pretending to such an extent? What does it matter! —
I have appearances on myside, let us make the most of them. My God, how handsome she is! —
HowI admire her great blue eyes, seen at close range, and looking at me asthey often do! —
What a difference between this spring and the last, when Iwas living in misery, keeping myself alive by my strength of character,surrounded by those three hundred dirty and evil-minded hypocrites! —
Iwas almost as evil as they.’
In moments of depression: That girl is making a fool of me,’ Julienwould think. —
‘She is plotting with her brother to mystify me. —
But sheseems so to despise her brother’s want of energy! —
He is brave, and thereis no more to be said, she tells me. —
He has not an idea which ventures todepart from the fashion. —
It is always I who am obliged to take up her defence. A girl of nineteen! —
At that age can a girl be faithful at every moment of the day to the code of hypocrisy that she has laid down forherself?
‘On the other hand, when Mademoiselle de La Mole fastens her greatblue eyes on me with a certain strange expression, Comte Norbert always moves away. —
That seems to me suspicious; ought he not to be annoyed at his sister’s singling out a domestic of their household? —
For I haveheard the Duc de Chaulnes use that term of me.’ —
At this memory angerobliterated every other feeling. —
‘Is it only the love of old-fashionedspeech in that ducal maniac?
‘Anyhow, she is pretty!’ Julien went on, with the glare of a tiger. —
‘I willhave her, I shall then depart and woe to him that impedes me in myflight!’
This plan became Julien’s sole occupation; he could no longer give athought to anything else. —
His days passed like hours. At all hours of theday, when he sought to occupy his mind with some serious business, histhoughts would abandon everything, and he would come to himself aquarter of an hour later, his heart throbbing, his head confused, anddreaming of this one idea: —
‘Does she love me?’
