• ;• m 
 
 GIFT or 
 John H» Mee 
 
 * ^ 
 
r-\ 
 
 *W 
 
 *. *%m, 
 
 7 
 
THE COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE 
 By H. DE BALZAC 
 
 SCENES FROM PRIVATE LIFE 
 
 THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT 
 
 A DOUBLE LIFE 
 
 THE PEACE OF A HOME 
 
BALZAC'S NOVELS. 
 
 Translated by Miss K. P. Wormeley. 
 
 Already Published: 
 PERE GORIOT. 
 DUCHESSE DE LANGEAIS. 
 RISE AND FALL OF CESAR BIROTTEAU. 
 EUGENIE GRANDET. 
 COUSIN PONS. 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 
 THE TWO BROTHERS. 
 
 THE ALKAHEST (La Recherche deTAbsolu). 
 MODESTE MIGNON. 
 
 THE MAGIC SKIN (La Peau de Chagrin). 
 COUSIN BETTE. 
 LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 BUREAUCRACY (Les Employe's). 
 SERAPHITA. 
 
 SONS OF THE SOIL (Les Paysans). 
 FAME AND SORROW (Chat-qui-pelote). 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 
 URSULA. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL MYSTERY. 
 ALBERT SAVARUS. 
 BALZAC : A MEMOIR. 
 PIERRETTE. 
 THE CHOUANS. 
 LOST ILLUSIONS. 
 A GREAT MAN OF THE PROVINCES IN 
 
 PARIS. 
 THE BROTHERHOOD OF CONSOLATION. 
 THE VILLAGE RECTOR. 
 MEMOIRS OF TWO YOUNG MARRIED 
 
 WOMEN. 
 CATHERINE DE' MEDICI. 
 LUCIEN DE RUBEMPRE. 
 
 FERRAGUS, CHIEF OF THE DEVORANTS. 
 A START IN LIFE. 
 THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT. 
 BEATRIX. 
 DAUGHTER OF EVE. 
 
   
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 BOSTON. 
 
HONORE DE BALZAC 
 
 TRANSLATKD BY 
 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY 
 
 THE 
 
 Marriage Contract 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 3 SOMERSET STREET 
 
 BOSTON 
 1895 
 
GiFT OF 
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 By Roberts Brothers. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Clnt'btrsttg flrrsa: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Pro and Con 1 
 
 II. The Pink of Fashion 16 
 
 III. The Marriage Contract — First Day . . 38 
 
 IV. The Marriage Contract — Second Day . . 93 
 V. The Marriage Contract — Third Day . . 117 
 
 VI. Conclusion 137 
 
 A DOUBLE LIFE. 
 
 I. The Second Life 183 
 
 II. The First Life 226 
 
 III. Result 270 
 
 THE PEACE OF A HOME 283 
 
 p«n 
 
 96258 
 
  
 
 . - 
 
 THE MAEEIAGE CONTEACT. 
 
 TO IiOSSINI. 
 
 I. 
 
 PRO AND CON. 
 
 Monsieur de Manerville, the father, was a worthy 
 Norman gentleman, well known to the Marechal de 
 Richelieu, who married him to one of the richest heir- 
 esses of Bordeaux in the days when the old duke 
 reigned in Guienne as governor. The Norman then 
 sold the estate he owned in Bessin, and became a 
 Gascon, allured by the beauty of the chateau de Lans- 
 trac, a delightful residence owned by his wife. Dur- 
 ing the last days of the reign of Louis XV., he bought 
 the post of major of the Gate Guards, and lived till 
 1813, having by great good luck escaped the dangers 
 of the Revolution in the following manner. 
 
 Toward the close of the year, 1790, he went to Mar- 
 tinque, where his wife had interests, leaving the man- 
 agement of his property in Gascogne to an honest man, 
 a notary's clerk, named Mathias, who was inclined to 
 — or at any rate did — give into the new ideas. On 
 his return the Comte de Manerville found his possessions 
 
2 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 intact and well-managed. This sound result was the 
 fruit produced by grafting the Gascon on the Norman. 
 
 Madame de Manerville died in 1810. Having 
 learned the importance of worldly goods through the 
 dissipations of his youth, and, giving them, like many 
 another old man, a higher place than they really hold 
 in life, Monsieur de Manerville became increasingly 
 economical, miserly, and sordid. Without reflecting 
 that the avarice of parents prepares the way for the 
 prodigalities of children, he allowed almost nothing to 
 his son, although that son was an only child. 
 
 Paul de Manerville, coming home from the college 
 of Vendome in 1810, lived under close paternal discipline 
 for three years. The tyranny by which the old man of 
 seventy oppressed his heir influenced, necessarily, a 
 heart and a character which were not yet formed. 
 Paul, the son, without lacking the physical courage 
 which is vital in the air of Gascony, dared not struggle 
 against his father, and consequently lost that faculty 
 of resistance which begets moral courage. His 
 thwarted feelings were driven to the depths of his 
 heart, where they remained without expression ; later, 
 when he felt them to be out of harmony with 
 the maxims of the world, he could only think rightly 
 and act mistakenly. He was capable of fighting for a 
 mere word or look, yet he trembled at the thought of 
 dismissing a servant, — his timidity showing itself in 
 those contests only which required a persistent will. 
 Capable of doing great things to fly from persecution, 
 he would never have prevented it by systematic oppo- 
 sition, nor have faced it with the steady employment of 
 force of will. Timid in thought, bold in actions, he 
 
The Marriage Contract 3 
 
 long preserved that inward simplicity which makes 
 a man the dupe and the voluntary victim of things 
 against which certain souls hesitate to revolt, prefer- 
 ring to endure them rather than complain. He was, in 
 point of fact, imprisoned in his father's old mansion, 
 for he had not enough money to consort with young men ; 
 he envied their pleasures while unable to share them. 
 
 The old gentleman took him every evening, in 
 an old carriage drawn by ill-harnessed old horses, 
 attended by ill-dressed old servants, to royalist 
 houses, where he met a society composed of the 
 relics of the parliamentary nobility and the martial 
 nobility. These two nobilities coalescing after the 
 Revolution for the purpose of resisting imperial 
 influence, had now transformed themselves into a 
 landed aristocracy. Crushed by the vast and swelling 
 fortunes of the maritime cities, this Faubourg Saint- 
 Germain of Bordeaux responded by lofty disdain to 
 the sumptuous displays of commerce, government ad- 
 ministrations, and the military. Too young to under- 
 stand social distinctions and the necessities underlying 
 the apparent assumption which they create, Paul was 
 bored to death among these ancients, unaware that the 
 connections of his youth would eventually secure to 
 him that aristocratic pre-eminence which Frenchmen 
 will forever desire. 
 
 He found some slight compensations for the dul- 
 ness of these evenings in certain manual exercises 
 which always delight young men, and which his father 
 enjoined upon him. The old gentleman considered that 
 to know the art of fencing and the use of arms, to ride 
 well on horseback, to play tennis, to acquire good 
 
4 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 manners, — in short, to possess all the frivolous accom- 
 plishments of the old nobility, — made a young man of 
 the present day a finished gentleman. Accordingly, 
 Paul took a fencing-lesson every morning, went to the 
 riding-school, and practised in a pistol-gallery. The rest 
 of his time he spent in reading novels, for his father 
 would never have allowed the more abstruse studies 
 now considered necessary to finish an education. 
 
 So monotonous a life would soon have killed the 
 poor youth if the death of the old man had not deliv- 
 ered him from this tyranny at the moment when it was 
 becoming intolerable. Paul found himself in posses- 
 sion of considerable capital, accumulated by his father's 
 avarice, together with landed estates in the best pos- 
 sible condition. But he now held Bordeaux in horror ; 
 neither did he like Lanstrac, where his father had 
 taken him to spend the summers, employing his whole 
 time from morning till night in hunting. 
 
 As soon as the estate was fairly settled, the young 
 heir, eager for enjoyment, bought consols with his 
 capital, left the management of the landed property to 
 old Mathias, his father's notary, and spent the next 
 six years away from Bordeaux. At first he was at- 
 tached to the French embassy at Naples ; after that 
 he was secretary of legation at Madrid, and then in 
 London, — making in this way the tour of Europe. 
 
 After seeing the world and life, after losing several 
 illusions, after dissipating all the loose capital which 
 his father had amassed, there came a time when, in 
 order to continue his way of life, Paul was forced to 
 draw upon the territoral revenues which his notary was 
 laying by. At this critical moment, seized by one of 
 
The Marriage Contract. 5 
 
 the so-called virtuous impulses, he determined to leave 
 Paris, return to Bordeaux, regulate his affairs, lead the 
 life of a country gentleman at Lanstrac, improve his 
 property, marry, and become, in the end, a deputy. 
 
 Paul was a count ; nobility was once more of matri- 
 monial value ; he could, and he ought to make a good 
 marriage. While many women desire a title, many 
 others like to marry a man to whom a knowledge of 
 life is familiar. Now Paul had acquired, in exchange 
 for the sum of seven hundred thousand francs squan- 
 dered in six years, that possession, which cannot be 
 bought and is practically of more value than gold and 
 silver ; a knowledge which exacts long study, proba- 
 tion, examinations, friends, enemies, acquaintances, 
 certain manners, elegance of form and demeanor, 
 a graceful and euphonious name, — a knowledge, 
 moreover, which means many love-affairs, duels, bets 
 lost on a race-course, disillusions, deceptions, annoy- 
 ances, toils, and a vast variety of undigested pleasures. 
 In short, he had become what is called elegant. But 
 in spite of his mad extravagance he had never made 
 himself a mere fashionable man. In the burlesque 
 army of men of the world, the man of fashion holds 
 the place of a marshal of France, the man of elegance 
 is the equivalent of a lieutenant-general. Paul enjoyed 
 his lesser reputation, of elegance, and knew well how to 
 sustain it. His servants were well-dressed, his equi- 
 pages were cited, his suppers had a certain vogue ; in 
 short, his bachelor establishment was counted among 
 the seven or eight whose splendor equalled that of the 
 finest houses in Paris. 
 
 But — he had not caused the wretchedness of any 
 
x 
 
 6 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 woman ; he gambled without losing ; his luck was not 
 notorious ; he was far too upright to deceive or mislead 
 any one, no matter who, even a wanton ; never did he 
 leave his billets-doux lying about, and he possessed no 
 coffer or desk for love-letters which his friends were at 
 liberty to read while he tied his cravat or trimmed his 
 beard. Moreover, not willing to dip into his Guienne 
 property, he had not that bold extravagance which 
 leads to great strokes and calls attention at any cost 
 to the proceedings of a young man. Neither did he 
 borrow money, but he had the folly to lend to friends, 
 who then deserted him and spoke of him no more either 
 for good or evil. He seemed to have regulated his dis- 
 sipations methodically. The secret of his character lay 
 in bis father's tyranny, which had made him, as it were, 
 a social mongrel. 
 
 So, one morning, he said to a friend named de 
 Marsay, who afterwards became celebrated : — 
 
 " My dear fellow, life has a meaning." 
 
 u You must be twenty-seven years of age before you 
 can find it out," replied de Marsay, laughing. 
 
 " Well, I am twenty-seven ; and precisely because I 
 am twenty-seven I mean to live the life of a country 
 gentleman at Lanstrac. I '11 transport my belongings 
 to Bordeaux into my father's old mansion, and I '11 
 spend three months of the year in Paris in this house, 
 which I shall keep.' 
 
 " Will you marry? 
 
 " I shall marry." 
 
 " I 'm your friend, as you know, my old Paul," said 
 de Marsay, after a moment's silence, " and I say to 
 you : settle down into a worthy father and husband 
 
 
The Marriage Contract, 7 
 
 and you'll be ridiculous for the rest of your days. 
 If you could be happy and ridiculous, the thing might 
 be thought of ; but you will not be happy. You have n't 
 a strong enough wrist to drive a household. I'll do 
 you justice and say you are a perfect horseman ; no 
 one knows as well as you how to pick up or throw down 
 the reins, and make a horse prance, and sit firm to the 
 saddle. But, my dear fellow, marriage is another thing. 
 I see you now, led along at a slapping pace by Madame 
 la Comtesse de Manerville, going whither you would 
 not, oftener at a gallop than a trot, and presently un- 
 horsed ! — yes, unhorsed into a ditch and your legs 
 broken. Listen to me. You still have some forty-odd 
 thousand francs a year from your property in the 
 Gironde. Good. Take your horses and servants and 
 furnish your house in Bordeaux ; you can be king of 
 Bordeaux, you can promulgate there the edicts that we 
 put forth in Paris ; you can be the correspondent of 
 our stupidities. Very good. Play the rake in the pro- 
 vinces ; better still, commit follies ; follies may win you 
 celebrity. But — don't marry. Who marries now-a- 
 days? Only merchants, for the sake of their capital, 
 or to be two to drag the cart ; only peasants who want 
 to produce children to work for them ; only brokers and 
 notaries who want a wife's dot to pay for their practice ; 
 only miserable kings who are forced to continue their 
 miserable dynasties. But we are exempt from the 
 pack, and you want to shoulder it ! And why do you 
 want to marry? You ought to give your best friend 
 your reasons. In the first place, if you marry an 
 heiress as rich as yourself, eighty thousand francs a 
 year for two is not the same thing as forty thousand 
 
8 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 francs a year for one, because the two are soon three 
 or four when the children come. You have n't surely 
 any love for that silly race of Manerville which would 
 only hamper you ? Are you ignorant of what a father 
 and mother have to be? Marriage, my old Paul, is the 
 silliest of all the social immolations ; our children alone 
 profit by it, and don't know its price till their horses 
 are nibbling the flowers on our grave. Do you regret 
 your father, that old tyrant who made your first years 
 wretched? How can you be sure that your children 
 will love you? The very care you take of their educa- 
 tion, your precautions for their happiness, your neces- 
 sary sternness will lessen their affection. Children 
 love a weak or a prodigal father, whom they will despise 
 in after years. You '11 live betwixt fear and contempt. 
 No man is a good head of a family merely because he 
 wants to be. Look round on all our friends and name 
 to me one whom you would like to have for a son. 
 We have known a good many who dishonor their 
 names. Children, my dear Paul, are the most difficult 
 kind of merchandise to take care of. Yours, you think, 
 will be angels ; well, so be it ! Have you ever sounded 
 the gulf which lies between the lives of a bachelor and 
 a married man? Listen. As a bachelor you can say 
 to yourself : ' I shall never exhibit more than a certain 
 amount of the ridiculous ; the public will think of me 
 what I choose it to think.' Married, you '11 drop into 
 the infinitude of the ridiculous ! Bachelor, you can make 
 your own happiness ; you enjoy some to-day, you do 
 without it to-morrow; married, you must take it as it 
 comes ; and the day you want it you will have to go 
 without it. Marry, and you'll grow a blockhead; 
 
The Marriage Contract. 9 
 
 you '11 calculate dowries ; you '11 talk morality, public 
 and religious ; you '11 think young men immoral and 
 dangerous ; in short, you '11 become a social academi- 
 cian. It 's pitiable ! The old bachelor whose property 
 the heirs are waiting for, who fights to his last breath 
 with his nurse for a spoonful of drink, is blest in com- 
 parison with a married man. I 'm not speaking of all 
 that will happen to annoy, bore, irritate, coerce, op- 
 pose, tyrannize, narcotize, paralyze, and idiotize a man 
 in marriage, in that struggle of two beings always in one 
 another's presence, bound forever, who have coupled 
 each other under the strange impression that they were 
 suited. No, to tell you those things would be merely a 
 repetition of Boileau, and we know him by heart. Still, 
 I '11 forgive your absurd idea if you will promise me to 
 marry en grand seigneur ; to entail your property ; to 
 have two legitimate children j to give your wife a house 
 and household absolutely distinct from yours ; to meet 
 her only in society, and never to return from a journey 
 without sending her a courier to announce it. Two hun- 
 dred thousand francs a year will suffice for such a life 
 and your antecedents will enable you to marry some rich 
 English woman hungry for a title. That 's an aristo- 
 cratic life which seems to me thoroughly French ; the 
 only life in which we can retain the respect and 
 friendship of a woman ; the only life which distin- 
 guishes a man from the present crowd, — in short, the 
 only life for which a young man should even think of 
 resigning his bachelor blessings. Thus established, 
 the Comte de Manerville may advise his epoch, place 
 himself above the world, and be nothing less than a 
 minister or an ambassador. Ridicule can never touch 
 
10 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 him ; he has gained the social advantages of marriage 
 while keeping all the privileges of a bachelor." 
 
 "But, my good friend, I am not de Marsay; I am 
 plainly, as you yourself do me the honor to say, Paul de 
 Manerville, worthy father and husband, deputy of the 
 Centre, possibly peer of France, — a destiny extremely 
 commonplace ; but I am modest and I resign myself." 
 
 "Yes, but your wife," said the pitiless de Marsay, 
 44 will she resign herself?" 
 
 " My wife, my dear fellow, will do as I wish." 
 
 "Ah! my poor friend, is that where you are? 
 Adieu, Paul. Henceforth, I refuse to respect you. 
 One word more, however, for I cannot agree coldly to 
 your abdication. Look and see in what the strength 
 of our position lies. A bachelor with only six thou- 
 sand francs a year remaining to him has at least his 
 reputation for elegance and the memory of success. 
 Well, even that fantastic shadow has enormous value 
 in it. Life still offers many chances to the unmarried 
 man. Yes, he can aim at anything. But marriage, 
 Paul, is the social ' Thus far shalt thou go and no 
 farther.' Once married you can never be anything 
 but what you then are — unless your wife should deign 
 to care for you." 
 
 "But," said Paul, " you are crushing me down with 
 exceptional theories. I am tired of living for others ; 
 of having horses merely to exhibit them ; of doing all 
 things for the sake of what may be said of them ; of 
 wasting my substance to keep fools from crying out : 
 4 Dear, dear ! Paul is still driving the same carriage. 
 What has he done with his fortune? Does he squan- 
 der it? Does he gamble at the Bourse? No, he's a 
 
TJie Marriage Contract. 11 
 
 millionnaire. Madame such a one is mad about him. 
 He sent to England for a harness which is certainly the 
 handsomest in all Paris. The four-horse equipages of 
 Messieurs de Marsay and de Manerville were much 
 noticed at Longchamps ; the harness was perfect ' — 
 in short, the thousand silly things with which a crowd 
 of idiots lead us by the nose. Believe me, my dear 
 Henri, I admire your power, but I don't envy it. You 
 know how to judge of life ; you think and act as a 
 statesman ; you are able to place yourself above all 
 ordinary laws, received ideas, adopted conventions, 
 and acknowledged prejudices ; in short, you can grasp 
 the profits of a situation in which I should find nothing 
 but ill-luck. Your cool, systematic, possibly true 
 deductions are, to the eyes of the masses, shockingly im- 
 moral. I belong to the masses. I must play my 
 game of life according to the rules of the society in 
 which I am forced to live. While putting yourself 
 above all human things on peaks of ice, you still have 
 feelings ; but as for me, I should freeze to death. The 
 life of that great majority, to which I belong in my 
 commonplace way, is made up of emotions of which I 
 now have need. Often a man coquets with a dozen 
 women and obtains none. Then, whatever be his 
 strength, his cleverness, his knowledge of the world, 
 he undergoes convulsions, in which he is crushed as 
 between two gates. For my part, I like the peaceful 
 chances and changes of life ; I want that wholesome 
 existence in which we find a woman always at our 
 side." 
 
 " A trifle indecorous, your marriage ! " exclaimed de 
 Marsay. 
 
12 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 Paul was not to be put out of countenance, and 
 continued : ' ' Laugh if you like ; I shall feel myself a 
 happy man when my valet enters my room in the morn- 
 ing and says : ' Madame is awaiting monsieur for 
 breakfast ; ' happier still at night, when I return to 
 find a heart — " 
 
 " Altogether indecorous, my dear Paul. You are 
 not yet moral enough to marry." 
 
 " — a heart in which to confide my interests and 
 my secrets. I wish to live in such close union with 
 a woman that our affection shall not depend upon a 
 yes or a no, or be open to the disillusions of love. 
 In short, I have the necessary courage to become, as 
 you say, a worthy husband and father. I feel myself 
 fitted for family joys ; I wish to put myself under the 
 conditions prescribed by society ; I desire to have a 
 wife and children." 
 
 4 1 You remind me of a hive of honey-bees ! But go 
 your way, you '11 be a dupe all your life. Ha, ha ! you 
 wish to marry to have a wife ! In other words, you 
 wish to solve satisfactorily to your own profit the most 
 difficult problem presented by those bourgeois morals 
 which were created by the French Revolution ; and, 
 what is more, you mean to begin your attempt by a 
 life of retirement. Do you think your wife won't 
 crave the life you say you despise? Will she be dis- 
 gusted with it, as you are? If you won't accept the 
 noble conjugality just formulated for your benefit by 
 your friend de Marsay, listen, at any rate, to his final 
 advice. Remain a bachelor for the next thirteen years ; 
 amuse yourself like a lost soul ; then, at forty, on 
 your first attack of gout, marry a widow of thirty-six. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 13 
 
 Then yon may possibly be happy. If you now take a 
 young girl to wife, you '11 die a madman." 
 
 " Ah ca I tell me why!" cried Paul, somewhat 
 piqued. 
 
 " My dear fellow," replied de Marsay, "Boileau's 
 satire against women is a tissue of poetical common- 
 places. Why shouldn't women have defects? Why 
 condemn them for having the most obvious thing in 
 human nature? To my mind, the problem of marriage 
 is not at all at the point where Boileau puts it. Do 
 you suppose that marriage is the same thing as love, 
 and that being a man suffices to make a wife love you? 
 Have you gathered nothing in your boudoir experience 
 but pleasant memories ? I tell you that everything in 
 our bachelor life leads to fatal errors in the married 
 man unless he is a profound observer of the human 
 heart. In the happy days of his youth a man, by the 
 caprice of our customs, is always lucky ; he triumphs 
 over women who are all ready to be triumphed over 
 and who obey their own desires. One thing after 
 another — the obstacles created by the laws, the senti- 
 ments and natural defences of women — all engender 
 a mutuality of sensations which deceives superficial 
 persons as to their future relations in marriage, where 
 obstacles no longer exist, where the wife submits to 
 love instead of permitting it, and frequently repulses 
 pleasure instead of desiring it. Then, the whole as- 
 pect of a man's life changes. The bachelor, who is 
 free and without a care, need never fear repulsion ; in 
 marriage, repulsion is almost certain and irreparable. 
 It may be possible for a lover to make a woman reverse 
 an unfavorable decision, but such a change, my dear 
 
14 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 Paul, is the Waterloo of husbands. Like Napoleon, the 
 husband is thenceforth condemned to victories which, 
 in spite of their number, do not prevent the first defeat 
 from crushing him. The woman, so flattered by the 
 perseverance, so delighted with the ardor of a lover, 
 calls the same things brutality in a husband. You, 
 who talk of marrying, and who will marry, have you 
 ever meditated on the Civil Code? I myself have 
 never muddied my feet in that hovel of commentators, 
 that garret of gossip, called the Law-school. I have 
 never so much as opened the Code ; but I see its appli- 
 cation on the vitals of society. The Code, my dear Paul, 
 makes woman a ward ; it considers her a child, a minor. 
 Now how must we govern children? By fear. In 
 that one word, Paul, is the curb of the beast. Now, 
 feekyour own pulse ! Have you the strength to play 
 the tyrant, — you, so gentle, so kind a friend, so confid- 
 ing ; you, at whom I have laughed, but whom I love, 
 and love enough to reveal to you my science ? For 
 this is science. Yes, it proceeds from a science which 
 the Germans are already calling Anthropology. Ah ! 
 if I had not already solved the mystery of life by 
 pleasure, if I had not a profound antipathy for those 
 who think instead of act, if I did not despise the nin- 
 nies who are silly enough to believe in the truth of a 
 book, when the sands of the African deserts are made 
 of the ashes of I know not how many unknown and 
 pulverized Londons, Romes, Venices, and Parises, I 
 would write a book on modern marriages made under 
 the influence of the Christian system, and I'd stick a 
 lantern on that heap of sharp stones among which lie 
 the votaries of the social 7nultiplicamini. But the 
 
The Marriage Contract. 15 
 
 question is, Does humanity require even an hour of my 
 time? And besides, is n't the more reasonable use of 
 ink that of snaring hearts by writing love-letters? — 
 Well, shall you bring the Comtesse de Manerville here, 
 and let us see her ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Paul. 
 
 41 We shall still be friends," said de Marsay. 
 
 44 If — " replied Paul. 
 
 4 * Don't be uneasy; we will treat you politely, as 
 Maison-Rouge treated the English at Fontenoy." 
 
16 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 II. 
 
 TIIE PINK OP FASHION. 
 
 Though the foregoing conversation affected the 
 Comte de Manerville somewhat, he made it a point of 
 duty to carry out his intentions, and he returned to 
 Bordeaux during the winter of the year 1821. 
 
 The expenses he incurred in restoring and furnishing 
 his family mansion sustained the reputation for ele- 
 gance which had preceded him. Introduced through 
 his former connections to the royalist society of Bor- 
 deaux, to which he belonged as much by his personal 
 opinions as by his name and fortune, he soon obtained 
 a fashionable pre-eminence. His knowledge of life, his 
 manners, his Parisian acquirements enchanted the fau- 
 bourg Saint-Germain of Bordeaux. An old marquise 
 made use of a term formerly in vogue at court to ex- 
 press the flowery beauty of the fops and beaux of the 
 olden time, whose language and demeanor were social 
 laws: she called him "the pink of fashion." The 
 liberal clique caught up the word and used it satirically 
 as a nickname, while the royalist party continued to 
 employ it in good faith. 
 
 Paul de Manerville acquitted himself gloriously of 
 the obligations imposed by his flowery title. It hap- 
 pened to him, as to many a mediocre actor, that the 
 day when the public granted him their full attention 
 
The Marriage Contract. 17 
 
 he became, one may almost say, superior. Feeling at 
 his ease, he displayed the fine qualities which accom- 
 panied his defects. His wit had nothing sharp or bit- 
 ter in it ; his manners were not supercilious ; his inter- 
 course with women expressed the respect they like, — it 
 was neither too deferential, nor too familiar ; his fop- 
 pery went no farther than a care for his personal 
 appearance which made him agreeable ; he showed 
 consideration for rank ; he allowed young men a cer- 
 tain freedom, to which his Parisian experience assigned 
 due limits ; though skilful with sword and pistol, he 
 was noted for a feminine gentleness for which others 
 were grateful. His medium height and plumpness 
 (which had not yet increased into obesity, an obstacle 
 to personal elegance) did not prevent his outer man 
 from playing the part of a Bordelais Brummell. A 
 white skin tinged with the hues of health, handsome 
 hands and feet, blue eyes with long lashes, black hair, 
 graceful motions, a chest voice which kept to its mid- 
 dle tones and vibrated in the listener's heart, harmon- 
 ized well with his sobriquet. Paul was indeed that 
 delicate flower which needs such careful culture, the 
 qualities of which display themselves only in a moist 
 and suitable soil, — a flower which rough treatment 
 dwarfs, which the hot sun burns, and a frost lays low. 
 He was one of those men made to receive happiness, 
 rather than to give it ; who have something of the 
 woman in their nature, wishing to be divined, under- 
 stood, encouraged ; in short, a man to whom conjugal 
 love ought to come as a providence. 
 
 If such a character creates difficulties in private life, 
 it is gracious and full of attraction for the world. 
 
18 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 Consequently, Paul had great success in the narrow 
 social circle of the provinces, where his mind, always, 
 so to speak, in half -tints, was better appreciated than 
 in Paris. 
 
 The arrangement of his house and the restoration 
 of the chateau de Lanstrac, where he introduced the 
 comfort and luxury of an English country-house, ab- 
 sorbed the capital saved by his notary during the pre- 
 ceding six years. Reduced now to his strict income 
 of forty-odd thousand a year, he thought himself wise 
 and prudent in so regulating his household as not to 
 exceed it. 
 
 After publicly exhibiting his equipages, entertaining 
 the most distinguished young men of the place, and 
 giving various hunting parties on the estate at Lan- 
 strac, Paul saw very plainly that provincial life would 
 never do without marriage. Too young to employ his 
 time in miserly occupations, or in trying to interest 
 himself in the speculative improvements in which pro- 
 vincials sooner or later engage (compelled thereto by 
 the necessity of establishing their children), he soon 
 felt the need of that variety of distractions a habit of 
 which becomes at last the very life of a Parisian. A 
 name to preserve, property to transmit to heirs, social 
 relations to be created by a household where the prin- 
 cipal families of the neighborhood could assemble, 
 and a weariness of all irregular connections, were not, 
 however, the determining reasons of his matrimonial 
 desires. From the time he first returned to the prov- 
 inces he had been secretly in love with the queen of 
 Bordeaux, the great beauty, Mademoiselle Evangelista. 
 
 About the beginning of the century, a rich Spaniard, 
 
The Marriage Contract. 19 
 
 named Evangelista, established himself in Bordeaux, 
 where his letters of recommendation, as well as his 
 large fortune, gave him an entrance to the salons of 
 the nobility. His wife contributed greatly to maintain 
 him in the good graces of an aristocracy which may 
 perhaps have adopted him in the first instance merely 
 to pique the society of the class below them. Ma- 
 dame Evangelista, who belonged to the Casa-Reale, an 
 illustrious family of Spain, was a Creole, and, like all 
 women served by slaves, she lived as a great lady, 
 knew nothing of the value of money, repressed no 
 whims, even the most expensive, finding them ever 
 satisfied by an adoring husband who generously con- 
 cealed from her knowledge the running-gear of the 
 financial machine. Happy in finding her pleased with 
 Bordeaux, where his interests obliged him to live, 
 the Spaniard bought a house, set up a household, re- 
 ceived in much style, and gave many proofs of pos- 
 sessing a fine taste in all things. Thus, from 1800 to 
 1812, Monsieur and Madame Evangelista were objects 
 of great interest to the community of Bordeaux. 
 
 The Spaniard died in 1813, leaving his wife a widow 
 at thirty-two years of age, with an immense fortune 
 and the prettiest little girl in the world, a child of 
 eleven, who promised to be, and did actually become, 
 a most accomplished young woman. Clever as Ma- 
 dame Evangelista was, the Restoration altered her 
 position ; the royalist party cleared its ranks and sev- 
 eral of the old families left Bordeaux. Though the 
 head and hand of her husband were lacking in the 
 direction of her affairs, for which she had hitherto 
 shown the indifference of a Creole and the inaptitude of 
 
20 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 a lackadaisical woman, she was determined to make no 
 change in her manner of living. At the period when 
 Paul resolved to return to his native town, Mademoi- 
 selle Natalie Evangelista was a remarkably beautiful 
 young girl, and, apparently, the richest match in Bor 
 deaux, where the steady diminution of her mother's 
 capital was unknown. In order to prolong her reign, 
 Madame Evangelista had squandered enormous sums. 
 Brilliant fetes and the continuation of an almost regal 
 style of living kept the public in its past belief as to 
 the wealth of the Spanish family. 
 
 Natalie was now in her nineteenth year, but no pro- 
 posal of marriage had as yet reached her mother's ear. 
 Accustomed to gratify her fancies, Mademoiselle Evan- 
 gelista wore cashmeres and jewels, and lived in a 
 style of luxury which alarmed all speculative suitors 
 in a region and at a period when sons were as calculat- 
 ing as their parents. The fatal remark, " None but 
 a prince can afford to marry Mademoiselle Evange- 
 lista," circulated among the salons and the cliques. 
 Mothers of families, dowagers who had granddaugh- 
 ters to establish, young girls jealous of Natalie, whose 
 elegance and tyrannical beauty annoyed them, took 
 pains to envenom this opinion with treacherous re- 
 marks. When they heard a possible suitor say with 
 ecstatic admiration, as Natalie entered a ball-room, 
 41 Heavens, how beautiful she is ! " "Yes," the mammas 
 would answer, "but expensive." If some new-comer 
 thought Mademoiselle Evangelista bewitching and said 
 to a marriageable man that he could n't do better, 
 "Who would be bold enough," some woman would 
 reply, ' ' to marry a girl whose mother gives her a thou- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 21 
 
 sand francs a month for her toilet, — a girl who has 
 horses and a maid of her own, and wears laces ? Yes, 
 her peignoirs are trimmed with mechlin. The price of 
 her washing would support the household of a clerk. 
 She wears pelerines in the morning which actually cost 
 six francs to get up." 
 
 These, and other speeches said occasionally in the form 
 of praise extinguished the desires that some men might 
 have had to marry the beautiful Spanish girl. Queen 
 of every ball, accustomed to flattery, blasee with the 
 smiles and the admiration which followed her every step, 
 Natalie, nevertheless, knew nothing of life. She lived 
 as the bird which flies, as the flower that blooms, find- 
 ing every one about her eager to do her will. She was 
 ignorant of the price of things ; she knew neither the 
 value of money, nor whence it came, how it should be 
 managed, and how spent. Possibly she thought that 
 every household had cooks and coachmen, lady's- 
 maids and footmen, as the fields have hay a,nd the 
 trees their fruits. To her, beggars and paupers, fallen 
 trees and waste lands seemed in the same category. 
 Pampered and petted as her mother's hope, no fatigue 
 was allowed to spoil her pleasure. Thus she bounded 
 through life as a courser on his steppe, unbridled aud 
 unshod. 
 
 Six months after Paul's arrival the Pink of Fashion 
 and the Queen of Balls met in presence of the highest 
 society of the town of Bordeaux. The two flowers 
 looked at each other with apparent coldness, and mutu- 
 ally thought eacli other charming. Interested in 
 watching the effects of the meeting, Madame Evan- 
 gelista divined in the expression of Paul's eyes the 
 
22 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 feelings within him, and she muttered to herself, " He 
 will be my son-in-law." Paul, on the other hand, said 
 to himself, as he looked at Natalie, " She will be my 
 wife." 
 
 The wealth of the ^vangelistas, proverbial in 
 Bordeaux, had remained in Paul's mind as a memory of 
 his childhood. Thus the pecuniary conditions were 
 known to him from the start, without necessitating 
 those discussions and inquiries which are as repugnant 
 to a timid mind as to a proud one. When some per- 
 sons attempted to say to Paul a few nattering phrases 
 as to Natalie's manner, language, and beauty, ending 
 by remarks, cruelly calculated to deter him, on the 
 lavish extravagance of the Evangelistas, the Pink 
 of Fashion replied with a disdain that was well- 
 deserved by such provincial pettiness. This method of 
 receiving such speeches soon silenced them ; for he now 
 set the tone to the ideas and language as well as to the 
 manners of those about him. He had imported from 
 his travels a certain development of the Britannic per- 
 sonality with its icy barriers, also a tone of Byronian 
 pessimism as to life, together with English plate, 
 boot-polish, ponies, yellow gloves, cigars, and the habit 
 of galloping. 
 
 It thus happened that Paul escaped the discourage- 
 ments hitherto presented to marriageable men by 
 dowagers and young girls. Madame Evangelista be- 
 gan by asking him to formal dinners on various occa- 
 sions. The Pink of Fashion would not, of course, miss 
 festivities to which none but the most distinguished 
 young men of the town were bidden. In spite of the 
 coldness that Paul assumed, which deceived neither 
 
The Marriage Contract. 23 
 
 mother nor daughter, he was drawn, step by step, into 
 the path of marriage. Sometimes as he passed in his 
 tilbury, or rode by on his fine English horse, he heard 
 the young men of his acquaintance say to one 
 another : — 
 
 " There 's a lucky man. He is rich and handsome, 
 and is to marry, so they say, Mademoiselle Evangelista. 
 There are some men for whom the world seems made." 
 
 When he met the Evang61istas he felt proud of the 
 particular distinction which mother and daughter im- 
 parted to their bows. If Paul had not secretly, within 
 his heart, fallen in love with Mademoiselle Natalie, 
 society would certainly have married him to her in spite 
 of himself. Society, which never causes good, is the 
 accomplice of much evil ; then when it beholds the evil 
 it has hatched maternally, it rejects and revenges it. 
 Society in Bordeaux, attributing a dot of a million to 
 Mademoiselle Evangelista, bestowed it upon Paul with- 
 out awaiting the consent of either party. Their for- 
 tunes, so it was said, agreed as well as their persons. 
 Paul had the same habits of luxury and elegance in the 
 midst of which Natalie had been brought up. He had 
 just arranged for himself a house such as no other man 
 in Bordeaux could have offered her. Accustomed to 
 Parisian expenses and the caprices of Parisian women, 
 he alone was fitted to meet the pecuniary difficulties 
 which were likely to follow this marriage with a girl 
 who was as much of a Creole and a great lady as her 
 mother. Where they themselves, remarked the mar- 
 riageable men, would have been ruined, the Comte de 
 Manerville, rich as he was, could evade disaster. In 
 short, the marriage was made. Persons in the highest 
 
24 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 royalist circles said a few engaging words to Paul 
 which nattered his vanity : — 
 
 " Every one gives you Mademoiselle Evangelista. 
 If you marry her you will do well. You could not find, 
 even in Paris, a more delightful girl. She is beautiful, 
 graceful, elegant, and takes after the Casa-Reales 
 through her mother. You will make a charming 
 couple ; you have the same tastes, the same desires in 
 life, and you will certainly have the most agreeable 
 house in Bordeaux. Your wife need only bring her 
 night-cap; all is ready for her. You are fortunate 
 indeed in such a mother-in-law. A woman of intelli- 
 gence, and very adroit, she will be a great help to you 
 in public life, to which you ought to aspire. Besides, 
 she has sacrificed everything to her daughter, whom she 
 adores, and Natalie will, no doubt, prove a good wife, 
 for she loves her mother. You must soon bring the 
 matter to a conclusion." 
 
 " That is all very well," replied Paul, who, in spite 
 of his love, was desirous of keeping his freedom of 
 action, "but I must be sure that the conclusion shall 
 be a happy one." 
 
 He now went frequently to Madame £vangelista's, 
 partly to occupy his vacant hours, which were harder 
 for him to employ than for most men. There alone he 
 breathed the atmosphere of grandeur and luxury to 
 which he was accustomed. 
 
 At forty years of age, Madame Evangelista was 
 beautiful, with the beauty of those glorious summer 
 sunsets which crown a cloudless day, Her spotless 
 reputation had given an endless topic of conversation 
 to the Bordeaux cliques ; the curiosity of the women 
 
The Marriage Contract. 25 
 
 was all the more lively because the widow gave signs 
 of the temperameat which makes a Spanish woman and 
 a Creole particularly noted. She had black eyes and 
 hair, the feet and form of a Spanish woman, — that 
 swaying form the movements of which have a name in 
 Spain. Her face, still beautiful, was particularly se- 
 ductive for its Creole complexion, the vividness of 
 which can be described only by comparing it to muslin 
 overlying crimson, so equally is the whiteness suffused 
 with color. Her figure, which was full and rounded, 
 attracted the eye by a grace which united nonchalance 
 with vivacity, strength with ease. She attracted and 
 she imposed, she seduced, but promised nothing. She 
 was tall, which gave her at times the air and carriage 
 of a queen. Men were taken by her conversation like 
 birds in a snare ; for she had by nature that genius 
 which necessity bestows on schemers ; she advanced 
 from concession to concession, strengthening herself 
 with what she gained to ask for more, knowing well 
 how to retreat with rapid steps when concessions were 
 demanded in return. Though ignorant of facts, she 
 had known the courts of Spain and Naples, the cele- 
 brated men of the two Americas, many illustrious 
 families of England and the continent, all of which 
 gave her so extensive an education superficially that it 
 seemed immense. She received her society with the 
 grace and dignity which are never learned, but which 
 come to certain naturally fine spirits like a second 
 nature ; assimilating choice things wherever they are 
 met. If her reputation for virtue was unexplained, 
 it gave at any rate much authority to her actions, her 
 conversation, and her character. 
 
26 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 Mother and daughter had a true friendship for each 
 other, beyond the filial and maternal sentiment. They 
 suited one another, and their perpetual contact had 
 never produced the slightest jar. Consequently many 
 persons explained Madame Evangelista's actions by 
 maternal love. But although Natalie consoled her 
 mother's persistent widowhood, she may not have 
 been the only motive for it. Madame Evangelista had 
 been, it was said, in love with a man who recovered his 
 titles and property under the Restoration. This man, 
 desirous of marrying her in 1814 had discreetly sev- 
 ered the connection in 1816. Madame Evangelista, to 
 all appearance the best-hearted woman in the world, 
 had, in the depths of her nature, a fearful quality, ex- 
 plainable only by Catherine de Medici's device : Odiate 
 e aspettate — " Hate and wait." Accustomed to rule, 
 having always been obeyed, she was like other royalties, 
 amiable, gentle, easy and pleasant in ordinary life, 
 but terrible, implacable, if the pride of the woman, the 
 Spaniard, and the Casa-Reale was touched. She never 
 forgave. This woman believed in the power of her 
 hatred ; she made an evil fate of it and bade it hover 
 above her enemy. This fatal power she employed 
 against the man who had jilted her. Event3 which 
 seemed to prove the influence of her jettatura — the 
 casting of an evil eye — confirmed her superstitious 
 faith in herself. Though a minister and peer of 
 France, this man began to ruin himself, and soon came 
 to total ruin. His property, his personal and public 
 honor were doomed to perish. At this crisis Madame 
 Evangelista in her brilliant equipage passed her faith- 
 less lover walking on foot in the Champs Ely sees, and 
 
Tht M --. C - : -. .7 
 
 crushed hi: a look which flamed with triumph. 
 
 TL: mis ntnre, which her mind for two 
 
 rs, was the original cause of her not remarrvii:_ 
 
 :er. her pride had drawn compa: is a the 
 
 - ~ho p: 3 and .he hasband who 
 
 let so si] 
 
 She had 1 - _ - : :ulati is 
 
 1 disappoii topes, that period of life when 
 
 women have no oth than that of 
 
 m< Ives the s :n- 
 
 9el s to their etui _ r of the: 
 
 on- : self upon another he isehokl, — the las! 
 
 : human 
 
 Madame Z _ lis divined Pawl :ui- 
 
 tSvely, and hid her own from his p- ion. Paul 
 
 was the mail she desire for a son-in-law. for the 
 
 responsible editor of her future power. He belo: _ . 
 through his mother, to the family of Maulincour. and 
 the old Baronne de Maulmcoor, I :..■:' 
 Vidame de Pamiers. was then livi: _ of the 
 
 fanboorg Saint-Germain. The _ :" the 1 
 
 ess. Aug si Manli .eld a - n in the 
 
 iiv. Paul woold at introducer 
 
 for the Ev: _ - - into Parisian society. T. 
 wn - g of the Paris of 1 E 
 
 s :e in the I - >f the Rest 
 There b Of political fortune, the 
 
 onlv - ss hi rid could de- 
 
 atly eo-c . Madame Ev _ mpeli 
 
 her hnshau fairs 1 - 
 
 the v. v he des as gamblers i sh 
 to higher si . s 9, .... refoi 
 
28 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 she looked to Paul as a means of destiny, she proposed 
 to employ the resources of her own talent and knowl- 
 edge of life to advance her son-in-law, in order to en- 
 joy through him the delights of power. Many men are 
 thus made the screens of secret feminine ambitions. Ma- 
 dame Evangelista had, however, more than one interest, 
 as we shall see, in laying hold of her daughter's husband. 
 
 Paul was naturally captivated by this woman, who 
 charmed him all the more because she seemed to seek 
 no influence over him. In reality she was using her as- 
 cendency to magnify herself, her daughter, and all her 
 surroundings in his eyes, for the purpose of ruling from 
 the start the man in whom she saw a means of gratifying 
 her social longings. Paul, on the other hand, began to 
 value himself more highly when he felt himself appre- 
 ciated by the mother and daughter. He thought him- 
 self much cleverer than he really was when he found 
 his reflections and sayings accepted and understood 
 by Mademoiselle Natalie — who raised her head and 
 smiled in response to them — and by the mother, whose 
 flattery seemed always involuntary. The two women 
 were so kind and friendly to him, he was so sure of 
 pleasing them, they ruled him so delightfully by hold- 
 ing the thread of his self-love, that he soon passed all 
 his time at the hotel Evangelista. 
 
 A year after his return to Bordeaux, Comte Paul, 
 without having declared himself, was so attentive to 
 Natalie that the world considered him as courting her. 
 Neither mother nor daughter appeared to be thinking 
 of marriage. Mademoiselle Evangelista preserved 
 towards Paul the reserve of a great lady who can 
 make herself charming and converse agreeably without 
 
The Marriage Contract. 29 
 
 permitting a single step into intimacy. This reserve, 
 so little customary among provincials, pleased Paul 
 immensely. Timid men are shy ; sudden proposals 
 alarm them. They retreat from happiness when it 
 comes with a rush, and accept misfortune if it pre- 
 sents itself mildly with gentle shadows. Paul there- 
 fore committed himself in his own mind all the more 
 because he saw no effort on Madame Evangelista's 
 part to bind him. She fairly seduced him one evening 
 by remarking that to superior women as well as men 
 there came a period of life when ambition superseded 
 all the earlier emotions of life. 
 
 " That woman is fitted,'' thought Paul, as he left her, 
 6 'to advance me in diplomacy before I am even made 
 a deputy." 
 
 If, in all the circumstances of life a man does not 
 turn over and over both things and ideas in order to 
 examine them thoroughly under their different aspects 
 before taking action, that man is weak and incomplete 
 and in danger of fatal failure. At this moment Paul 
 was an optimist ; he saw everything to advantage, and 
 did not tell himself that an ambitious mother-in-law 
 might prove a tyrant. So, every evening as he left the 
 house, he fancied himself a married man, allured his 
 mind with its own thought, and slipped on the slippers 
 of wedlock cheerfully. In the first place, he had en- 
 joyed his freedom too long to regret the loss of it ; he 
 was tired of a bachelor's life, which offered him nothing 
 new ; he now saw only its annoyances ; whereas if he 
 thought at times of the difficulties of marriage, its 
 pleasures, in which lay novelty, came far more promi- 
 nently before his mind. 
 
30 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 " Marriage," he said to himself, " is disagreeable 
 for people without means, but half its troubles disap- 
 pear before wealth." 
 
 Every day some favorable consideration swelled 
 the advantages which he now saw in this particular 
 alliance. 
 
 ' ' No matter to what position I attain, Natalie will 
 always be on the level of her part," thought he, " and 
 that is no small merit in a woman. How many of the 
 Empire men I 've seen who suffered horribly through 
 their wives ! It is a great condition of happiness not 
 to feel one's pride or one's vanity wounded by the com- 
 panion we have chosen. A man can never be really 
 unhappy with a well-bred wife ; she will never make 
 him ridiculous ; such a woman is certain to be useful 
 to him. Natalie will receive in her own house 
 admirably." 
 
 So thinking, he taxed his memory as to the most 
 distinguished women of the faubourg Saint-Germain, 
 in order to convince himself that Natalie could, if not 
 eclipse them, at any rate stand among them on a foot- 
 ing of perfect equality. All comparisons were to her 
 advantage, for they rested on his own imagination, 
 which followed his desires. Paris would have shown 
 him daily other natures, young girls of other styles of 
 beauty aud charm, and the multiplicity of impressions 
 would have balanced his mind ; whereas in Bordeaux 
 Natalie had no rivals, she was the solitary flower ; 
 moreover, she appeared to him at a moment when 
 Paul was under the tyranny of an idea to which most 
 men succumb at his age. 
 
 Thus these reasons of propinquity, joined to reasons 
 
The Marriage Contract. 81 
 
 / 
 
 of self-love and a real passion which had no means of 
 satisfaction except by marriage, led Paul on to an 
 irrational love, which he had, however, the good sense 
 to keep to himself. He even endeavored to study 
 Mademoiselle Evangelista as a man should who de- 
 sires not to compromise his future life ; for the words 
 of his friend de Marsay did sometimes rumble in his 
 ears like a warning. But, in the first place, persons 
 accustomed to luxury have a certain indifference to it 
 which misleads them. They despise it, they use it ; it is 
 an instrument, and not the object of their existence. 
 Paul never imagined, as he observed the habits of life 
 of the two ladies, that they covered a gulf of ruin. 
 Then, though there may exist some general rules to 
 soften the asperities of marriage, there are none by 
 which they can be accurately foreseen and evaded. 
 When trouble arises between two persons who have 
 undertaken to render life agreeable and easy to each 
 other, it comes from the contact of continual intimacy, 
 which, of course, does not exist between young people 
 before they marry, and will never exist so long as our 
 present social laws and customs prevail in France. All 
 is more or less deception between the two young per- 
 sons about to take each other for life, — an innocent 
 and involuntary deception, it is true. Each endeavors 
 to appear in a favorable light ; both take a tone and 
 attitude conveying a more favorable idea of their 
 nature than they are able to maintain in after years. 
 Real life, like the weather, is made up of gray and 
 cloudy days alternating with those when the sun shines 
 and the fields are gay. Young people, however, ex- 
 hibit fine weather and no clouds. Later they attribute 
 
32 The Marriage, Contract. 
 
 to marriage the evils inherent in life itself ; for there is 
 in man a disposition to lay the blame of his own misery 
 on the persons and things that surround him. 
 
 To discover in the demeanor, or the countenance, 
 or the words, or the gestures of Mademoiselle Evange- 
 lista any indication that revealed the imperfections of 
 her character, Paul must have possessed not only the 
 knowledge of Lavater and Gall, but also a science in 
 which there exists no formula of doctrine, — the indi- 
 vidual and personal science of an observer, which, for 
 its perfection, requires an almost universal knowledge. 
 Natalie's face, like that of most } T oung girls, was im- 
 penetrable. The deep, serene peace given by sculptors 
 to the virgin faces of Justice and Innocence, divinities 
 aloof from all earthly agitations, is the greatest charm 
 of a young girl, the sign of her purity. Nothing, as 
 yet, has stirred her ; no shattered passion, no hope 
 betrayed has clouded the placid expression of that 
 pure face. Is that expression assumed? If so, there 
 is no young girl behind it. 
 
 Natalie, closely held to the heart of her mother, had 
 received, like other Spanish women, an education that 
 was solely religious, together with a few instructions 
 from her mother as to the part in life she was called 
 upon to play. Consequently, the calm, untroubled ex- 
 pression of her face was natural. And yet it formed a 
 casing in which the woman was wrapped as the moth 
 in its cocoon. Nevertheless, any man clever at hand- 
 ling the scalpel of analysis might have detected in 
 Natalie certain indications of the difficulties her char- 
 acter would present when brought into contact with 
 conjugal or social life. Her beauty, which was really 
 
The Marriage Contract. 33 
 
 marvellous, came from extreme regularity of feature 
 harmonizing with the proportions of the head and the 
 body. This species of perfection augurs ill for the 
 mind ; and there are few exceptions to the rule. All 
 superior nature is found to have certain slight imper- 
 fections of form which become irresistible attractions, 
 luminous points from which shine vivid sentiments, 
 and on which the eye rests gladly. Perfect harmony 
 expresses usuall} 7 the coldness of a mixed organization. 
 Natalie's waist was round, — a sign of strength, but 
 also the infallible indication of a will which becomes 
 obstinacy in persons whose mind is neither keen nor 
 broad. Her hands, like those of a Greek statue, con- 
 firmed the predictions of face and figure by revealing 
 an inclination for illogical domination, of willing for 
 will's sake only. Her eyebrows met , — a sign, accord- 
 ing to some observers, which indicates jealousy. The 
 jealousy of superior minds becomes emulation and 
 leads to great things ; that of small minds turns to 
 hatred. The " hate and wait" of her mother was in 
 her nature, without disguise. Her eyes were black ap- 
 parently, though really brown with orange streaks, 
 contrasting with her hair, of the ruddy tint so prized 
 by the Romans, called auburn in England, a color 
 which often appears in the offspring of persons of 
 jet black hair, like that of Monsieur and Madame 
 Evangelista. The whiteness and delicacy of Natalie's 
 complexion gave to the contrast of color in her eyes 
 and hair an inexpressible charm ; and yet it was a 
 charm that was purely external ; for whenever the 
 lines of a face are lacking in a certain soft roundness, 
 whatever may be the finish and grace of the details, the 
 
 3 
 
34 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 beauty therein expressed is not of the soul. These 
 roses of deceptive youth will drop their leaves, and you 
 will be surprised in a few years to see hardness and 
 dryness where you once admired what seemed to be 
 the beauty of noble qualities. 
 
 Though the outlines of Natalie's face had something 
 august about them, her chin was slightly empate, — a 
 painter's expression which will serve to show the exist- 
 ence of sentiments the violence of which would only 
 become manifest in after life. Her mouth, a trifle 
 drawn in, expressed a haughty pride in keeping with 
 her hand, her chin, her brows, and her beautiful figure. 
 And — as a last diagnostic to guide the judgment of a 
 connoisseur — Natalie's pure voice, a most seductive 
 voice, had certain metallic tones. Softly as that brassy 
 ring was managed, and in spite of the grace with which 
 its sounds ran through the compass of the voice, that 
 organ revealed the character of the Duke of Alba, from 
 whom the Casa-Reales were collaterally descended. 
 These indications were those of violent passions with- 
 out tenderness, sudden devotions, irreconcilable dis- 
 likes, a mind without intelligence, and the desire to 
 rule natural to persons who feel themselves inferior 
 to their pretensions. 
 
 These defects, born of temperament and constitu- 
 tion, were buried in Natalie like ore in a mine, and 
 would only appear under the shocks and harsh treat- 
 ment to which all characters are subjected in this 
 world. Meantime the grace and freshness of her 
 youth, the distinction of her manners, her sacred igno- 
 rance, and the sweetness of a young girl, gave a deli- 
 cate glamour to her features which could not fail to 
 
The Marriage Contract, 85 
 
 mislead an unthinking or superficial mind. Her mother 
 had early taught her the trick of agreeable talk which 
 appears to imply superiority, replying to arguments by 
 clever jests, and attracting by the graceful volubility 
 beneath which a woman hides the subsoil of her mind, 
 as Nature disguises her barren strata beneath a wealth 
 of ephemeral vegetation. Natalie had the charm of 
 children who have never known what it is to suffer. 
 She charmed by her frankness, and had none of that 
 solemn air which mothers impose on their daughters by 
 laying down a programme of behavior and language 
 until the time comes when they marry and are emanci- 
 pated. She was gay and natural, like any young girl 
 who knows nothing of marriage, expects only pleasure 
 from it, replies to all objections with a jest, foresees 
 no troubles, and thinks she is acquiring the right to 
 have her own way. 
 
 How could Paul, who loved as men love when desire 
 increases love, perceive in a girl of this nature whose 
 beauty dazzled him, the woman, such as she would 
 probably be at thirty, when observers themselves have 
 been misled by these appearances? Besides, if hap- 
 piness might prove difficult to find in a marriage with 
 such a girl, it was not impossible. Through these 
 embryo defects shone several fine qualities. There is 
 no good quality which, if properly developed by the 
 hand of an able master, will not stifle defects, especially 
 in a young girl who loves him. But to render ductile 
 bo intractable a woman, the iron wrist, about which de 
 Marsay had preached to Paul, was needful. The 
 Parisian dandy was right. Fear, inspired by love 
 is an infallible instrument by which to manage the 
 
36 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 .minds of women. Whoso loves, fears ; whoso fears is 
 nearer to affection than to hatred. 
 
 Had Paul the coolness, firmness, and judgment re- 
 quired for this struggle, which an able husband ought 
 not to let the wife suspect? Did Natalie love Paul? 
 Like most young girls, Natalie mistook for love the 
 first emotions of instinct and the pleasure she felt in 
 Paul's external appearance ; but she knew nothing of 
 the things of marriage nor the demands of a home. To 
 her, the Comte de Manerville, a rising diplomatist, to 
 whom the courts of Europe were known, and one of the 
 most elegant young men in Paris, could not seem, what 
 perhaps he was, an ordinary man, without moral force, 
 timid, though brave in some ways, energetic perhaps 
 in adversity, but helpless against the vexations and 
 annoyances that hinder happiness. Would she, in after 
 years, have sufficient tact and insight to distinguish 
 Paul's noble qualities in the midst of his minor defects? 
 Would she not magnify the latter and forget the former, 
 after the manner of young wives who know nothing of 
 life ? There comes a time when wives will pardon de- 
 fects in the husband who spares her annoyances, con- 
 sidering annoyances in the same category as misfor- 
 tunes. What conciliating power, what wise experience 
 would uphold and enlighten the home of this young 
 pair? Paul and his wife would doubtless think they 
 loved when they had really not advanced beyond the 
 endearments and compliments of the honeymoon. 
 Would Paul in that early period yield to the tyranny 
 of his wife, instead of establishing his empire? Could 
 Paul say, No? All was peril to a man so weak where 
 even a strong man ran some risks. 
 
The Marriage Contract 37 
 
 The subject of this Study is not the transition of a 
 bachelor into a married man, — a picture which, if 
 broadly composed, would not lack the attraction which 
 the inner struggles of our nature and feelings give to 
 the commonest situations in life. The events and the 
 ideas which led to the marriage of Paul with Natalie 
 Evangelista are an introduction to our real subject, 
 which is to sketch the great comedy that precedes, in 
 France, all conjugal pairing. This Scene, until now 
 singularly neglected by our dramatic authors although 
 it offers novel resources to their wit, controlled Paul's 
 future life and was now awaited by Madame Evange- 
 lista with feelings of terror. AYe mean the discussion 
 which takes place on the subject of the marriage con- 
 tract in all families, whether noble or bourgeois, for 
 human passions are as keenly excited by small interests 
 as by large ones. These comedies, played before a 
 notary, all resemble, more or less, the one we shall 
 now relate, the interest of which will be far less in the 
 pages of this book than in the memories of married 
 persons. 
 
38 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 III. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT — FIRST DAY. 
 
 At the beginning of the winter of 1822, Paul de 
 Manerville made a formal request, through his great- 
 aunt, the Baronne de Maulincour, for the hand of 
 Mademoiselle Natalie Evangelista. Though the baron- 
 ess never stayed more than two months in Medoc, she 
 remained on this occasion till the last of October, in 
 order to assist her nephew through the affair and play 
 the part of a mother to him. After conveying the first 
 suggestions to Madame Evangelista the experienced 
 old woman returned to inform Paul of the results of the 
 overture. 
 
 " My child," she said, " the affair is won. In talk- 
 ing of property, I found that Madame Evangelista 
 gives nothing of her own to her daughter. Made- 
 moiselle Natalie's dowry is her patrimony. Marry her, 
 my dear boy. Men who have a name and an estate 
 to transmit, a family to continue, must, sooner or later, 
 end in marriage. I wish I could see my dear Auguste 
 taking that course. You can now carry on the mar- 
 riage without me ; I have nothing to give you but my 
 blessing, and women as old as I are out of place at a 
 wedding. I leave for Paris to-morrow. When you 
 present your wife in society I shall be able to see her 
 and assist her far more to the purpose than now. If 
 
The Marriage Contract 39 
 
 you had had no house in Paris I would gladly have 
 arranged the second floor of mine for you." 
 
 "Dear aunt," said Paul, "I thank you heartily. 
 But what do you mean when you say that the mother 
 gives nothing of her own, and that the daughter's dowry 
 is her patrimony ? " 
 
 "The mother, my dear boy, is a sly cat, who 
 takes advantage of her daughter's beauty to impose 
 conditions and allow you only that which she can- 
 not prevent you from having ; namely, the daughter's 
 fortune from her father. We old people know the im- 
 portance of inquiring closely, What has he? What 
 has she? I advise you therefore to give particular in- 
 structions to your notary. The marriage contract, 
 my dear child, is the most sacred of all duties. If 
 your father and your mother had not made their bed 
 properly you might now be sleeping without sheets. 
 You will have children, they are the commonest results 
 of marriage, and you must think of them. Consult 
 Maitre Mathias our old notary." 
 
 Madame de Maulincour departed, having plunged 
 Paul into a state of extreme perplexity. His mother- 
 in-law a sly cat ! Must he struggle for his interests 
 in the marriage contract ? Was it necessary to defend 
 them ? Who was likely to attack them ? 
 
 He followed the advice of his aunt and confided the 
 drawing-up of the marriage contract to Maitre Mathias. 
 But these threatened discussions oppressed him, and he 
 went to see Madame Evangelista and announce his in- 
 tentions in a state of rather lively agitation. Like all 
 timid men, he shrank from allowing the distrust his 
 aunt had put into his mind to be seen ; in fact, he con- 
 
40 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 sidered it insulting. To avoid even a slight jar with a 
 person so imposing to his mind as his future mother-in- 
 law, he proceeded to state his intentions with the cir- 
 cumlocution natural to persons who dare not face a 
 difficulty. 
 
 " Madame," he said, choosing a moment when Natalie 
 was absent from the room, "you know, of course, 
 what a family notary is. Mine is a worthy old man, to 
 whom it would be a sincere grief if he were not in- 
 trusted with the drawing of my marriage contract." 
 
 " Why, of course!" said Madame Evangelista, in- 
 terrupting him, " but are not marriage contracts always 
 made by agreement of the notaries of both families ? ' ; 
 
 The time that Paul took to reply to this question 
 was occupied by Madame Evangelista in asking her- 
 self, ' ' What is he thinking of? " for women possess in 
 an eminent degree the art of reading thoughts from the 
 play of countenance. She divined the instigations of 
 the great-aunt in the embarrassed glance and the agi- 
 tated tone of voice which betrayed an inward struggle 
 in Paul's mind. 
 
 u At last," she thought to herself, " the fatal day 
 has come ; the crisis begins — how will it end ? My 
 notary is Monsieur Solonet," she said, after a pause. 
 " Yours, I think you said, is Monsieur Mathias ; I will 
 invite them to dinner to-morrow, and they can come to 
 an understanding then. It is their business to concili- 
 ate our interests without our interference ; just as good 
 cooks are expected to furnish good food without 
 instructions." 
 
 " Yes, you are right," said Paul, letting a faint 
 sigh of relief escape him. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 41 
 
 By a singular transposition of parts, Paul, innocent of 
 all wrong-doing, trembled, while Madame Evangelista, 
 though a prey to the utmost anxiety, was outwardly 
 calm. 
 
 The widow owed her daughter one-third of the for- 
 tune left by Monsieur Evangelista, — namely, nearly 
 twelve hundred thousand francs, — and she knew herself 
 unable to pay it, even by taking the whole of her prop- 
 erty to do so. She would therefore be placed at the 
 mercy of a son-in-law. Though she might be able to 
 control Paul if left to himself, would he, when enlight- 
 ened by his notary, agree to release her from rendering 
 her account as guardian of her daughter's patrimony? 
 If Paul withdrew his proposals all Bordeaux would know 
 the reason and Natalie's future marriage would be made 
 impossible. This mother, who desired the happiness 
 of her daughter, this woman, who from infancy had 
 lived honorably, was aware that on the morrow she 
 must become dishonest. Like those great warriors 
 who fain would blot from their lives the moment when 
 they had felt a secret cowardice, she ardently desired 
 co cut this inevitable day from the record of hers. 
 Most assuredly some hairs on her head must have 
 whitened during the night, when, face to face with 
 facts, she bitterly regretted her extravagance as she 
 relt the hard necessities of the situation. 
 
 Among these necessities was that of confiding the 
 truth to her notary, for whom she sent in the morning 
 as soon as she rose. She was forced to reveal to him 
 a secret defaulting she had never been willing to admit 
 to herself, for she had steadily advanced to the abyss, 
 relying on some chance accident, which never hap- 
 
42 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 pened, to relieve her. There rose in her soul a feeling 
 against Paul, that was neither dislike, nor aversion, nor 
 anything, as yet, unkind ; but he was the cause of this 
 crisis ; the opposing party in this secret suit ; he be- 
 came, without knowing it, an innocent enemy she was 
 forced to conquer. What human being did ever yet 
 love his or her dupe? Compelled to deceive and trick 
 him if she could, the Spanish woman resolved, like 
 other women, to put her whole force of character into 
 the struggle, the dishonor of which could be absolved 
 by victory only. 
 
 In the stillness of the night she excused her conduct 
 to her own mind by a tissue of arguments in which her 
 pride predominated. Natalie had shared the benefit 
 of her extravagance. There was not a single base or 
 ignoble motive in what she had done. She was no 
 accountant, but was that a crime, a delinquency? A 
 man was only too lucky to obtain a wife like Natalie 
 without a penny. Such a treasure bestowed upon him 
 might surely release her from a guardianship account. 
 How many men had bought the women they loved by 
 greater sacrifices ? Why should a man do less for a wife 
 than for a mistress? Besides, Paul was a nullity, a 
 man of no force, incapable ; she would spend the best 
 resources of her mind upon him and open to him a fine 
 career ; he should owe his future power and position to 
 her influence ; in that way she could pay her debt. He 
 would indeed be a fool to refuse such a future ; and for 
 what? a few paltry thousands, more or less. He 
 would be infamous if he withdrew for such a reason. 
 
 "But," she added, to herself, "if the negotiation 
 does not succeed at once, I shall leave Bordeaux. I 
 
The Marriage Contract. 43 
 
 can still find a good marriage for Natalie by investing 
 the proceeds of what is left, house and diamonds and 
 furniture, — keeping only a small income for myself." 
 
 When a strong soul constructs a way of ultimate 
 escape, — as Richelieu did at Brouage, — and holds in 
 reserve a vigorous end, the resolution becomes a lever 
 which strengthens its immediate way. The thought of 
 this finale in case of failure comforted Madame Evan- 
 gelista, who fell asleep with all the more confidence as 
 she remembered her assistant in the coming duel. 
 
 This was a young man named Solonet, considered the 
 ablest notaiy in Bordeaux ; now twenty-seven years 
 of age and decorated with the Legion of honor for 
 having actively contributed to the second return of the 
 Bourbons. Proud and happy to be received in the 
 home of Madame Evangelista, less as a notary than as 
 belonging to the royalist society of Bordeaux, Solonet 
 had conceived for that fine setting sun one of those 
 passions which women like Madame Evangelista re- 
 pulse, although flattered and graciously allowing them 
 to exist upon the surface. Solonet remained therefore in 
 a self-satisfied condition of hope and becoming respect. 
 Being sent for, he arrived the next morning with the 
 promptitude of a slave and was received by the coquet- 
 tish widow in her bedroom, where she allowed him to 
 find her in a very becoming dishabille. 
 
 " Can I," she said, " couut upon your discretion and 
 your entire devotion in a discussion which will take place 
 in my house this evening? You will readily understand 
 that it relates to the marriage of my daughter." 
 
 The young man expended himself in gallant protes- 
 tations. 
 
44 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 " Now to the point," she said. 
 
 " I am listening,'' he replied, checking his ardor. 
 
 Madame Evangelista then stated her position 
 baldly. 
 
 " My dear lady, that is nothing to be troubled 
 about," said Maitre Solonet, assuming a confident air 
 as soon as his client had given him the exact figures. 
 " The question is how have you conducted yourself 
 toward Monsieur de Manerville? In this matter ques- 
 tions of manner and deportment are of greater impor- 
 tance than those of law and finance." 
 
 Madame Evangelista wrapped herself in dignity. 
 The notary learned to his satisfaction that until the 
 present moment his client's relations to Paul had been 
 distant and reserved, and that partly from native pride 
 and partly from involuntary shrewdness she had treated 
 the Comte de Manerville as in some sense her inferior 
 and as though it were an honor for him to be allowed 
 to marry Mademoiselle Evangelista. She assured 
 Solonet that neither she nor her daughter could be sus- 
 pected of any mercenary interests in the marriage ; that 
 they had the right, should Paul make any financial 
 difficulties, to retreat from the affair to an illim 
 itable distance ; and finally, that she had already ac- 
 quired over her future son-in-law a very remarkable 
 ascendency. 
 
 " If that is so," said Solonet, " tell me what are the 
 utmost concessions you are willing to make." 
 
 " I wish to make as few as possible," she answered, 
 laughing. 
 
 "A woman's answer," cried Solonet. "Madame, 
 are you anxious to marry Mademoiselle Natalie ? " 
 
The Marriage Contract. 45 
 
 44 Yes." 
 
 44 And you want a receipt for the eleven hundred and 
 fifty-six thousand francs, for which you are responsible 
 on the guardianship account which the law obliges you 
 to render to your son-in-law ? " 
 
 k4 Yes." 
 
 " How much do you want to keep back? " 
 
 14 Thirty thousand a year, at least." 
 
 " It is a question of conquer or die, is it? " 
 
 44 It is." 
 
 44 Well, then, I must reflect on the necessary means 
 to that end ; it will need all our cleverness to manage 
 our forces. I will give you some instructions on my 
 arrival this evening ; follow them carefully, and I think 
 I may promise you a successful issue. Is the Comte de 
 Manerville in love with Mademoiselle Natalie?" he 
 asked as he rose to take leave. 
 
 44 He adores her." 
 
 44 That is not enough. Does he desire her to the 
 point of disregarding all pecuniary difficulties ? " 
 
 44 Yes." 
 
 44 That's what I call having a lien upon a daughter's 
 property," cried the notary. " Make her look her best 
 to-night," he added with a sly glance. 
 
 44 She has a most charming dress for the occasion." 
 
 4 'The marriage-contract dress is, in my opinion, 
 half the battle," said Solonet. 
 
 This last argument seemed so cogent to Madame 
 Evangelista that she superintended Natalie's toilet 
 herself, as much perhaps to watch her daughter as to 
 make her the innocent accomplice of her financial 
 conspiracy. 
 
46 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 With her hair dressed a, la Sevigne and wearing a 
 gown of white tulle adorned with pink ribbons, Natalie 
 seemed to her mother so beautiful as to guarantee 
 victory. When the lady's-maid left the room and 
 Madame Evangelista was certain that no one could 
 overhear her, she arranged a few curls on her daughter's 
 head by way of exordium. 
 
 " Dear child," she said, in a voice that was firm 
 apparently, " do you sincerely love the Comte de 
 Manerville?" 
 
 Mother and daughter cast strange looks at each 
 other. 
 
 " Why do you ask that question, little mother? and 
 to-day more than yesterday? Why have you thrown 
 me with him ? " 
 
 " If you and I had -to part forever would you still 
 persist in the marriage ? " 
 
 "I should give it up — and I should not die of 
 grief." 
 
 "You do not love him, my dear," said the mother, 
 kissing her daughter's forehead. 
 
 "But why, my dear mother, are you playing the 
 Grand Inquisitor?" 
 
 " I wished to know if you desired the marriage with- 
 out being madly in love with the husband." 
 
 "I love him." 
 
 '* And you are right. He is a count; we will make 
 him a peer of France between us ; nevertheless, there 
 are certain difficulties." 
 
 " Difficulties between persons who love each other? 
 Oh, no. The heart of the Pink of Fashion is too 
 firmly planted here," sue said, with a pretty gesture, 
 
The Marriage Contract. 47 
 
 "to make the very slightest objection. I am sure of 
 that." 
 
 " But suppose it were otherwise? " persisted Madame 
 Evangelista. 
 
 " He would be profoundly and forever forgotten," 
 replied Natalie. 
 
 ''Good! You are a Casa-Reale. But suppose, 
 though he madly loves you, suppose certain discussions 
 and difficulties should arise, not of his own making, 
 but which he must decide in your interests as well as in 
 mine — hey, Natalie, what then? Without lowering 
 your dignity, perhaps a little softness in your manner 
 might decide him — a word, a tone, a mere nothing. 
 Men are so made ; they resist a serious argument, but 
 they yield to a tender look." 
 
 "I understand! a little touch to make my Favori 
 leap the barrier," said Natalie, making the gesture of 
 striking a horse with her whip. 
 
 "My darling! I ask nothing that resembles seduc- 
 tion. You and I have sentiments of the old Castilian 
 honor which will never permit us to pass certain 
 limits. Count Paul shall know our situation." 
 
 " What situation?" 
 
 " You would not understand it. But I tell you 
 now that if after seeing you in all your glory his look 
 betrays the slightest hesitation, — and I shall watch 
 him, — on that instant I will break off the marriage ; I 
 will liquidate my property, leave Bordeaux, and go to 
 Douai, to be near the Claes. Madame Claes is our 
 relation through the Temnincks. Then I '11 marry you 
 to a peer of France, and take refuge in a convent my- 
 self, that I may give up to you my whole fortune." 
 
48 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 " Mother, what am I to do to prevent such misfor- 
 tunes? "cried Natalie. 
 
 " I have never seen you so beautiful as you are now," 
 replied her mother. "Be a little coquettish, and all 
 is well." 
 
 Madame £vangelista left Natalie to her thoughts, 
 and went to arrange her own toilet in a way that 
 would bear comparison with that of her daughter. If 
 Natalie ought to make herself attractive to Paul she 
 ought, none the less, to inflame the ardor of her cham- 
 pion Solonet. The mother and daughter were there- 
 fore under arms when Paul arrived, bearing the bouquet 
 which for the last few months he had daily offered to 
 his love. All three conversed pleasantly while await- 
 ing the arrival of the notaries. 
 
 This day brought to Paul the first skirmish of that 
 long and wearisome warfare called marriage. It is 
 therefore necessary to state the forces on both sides, 
 the position of the belligerent bodies, and the ground 
 on which they are about to manoeuvre. 
 
 To maintain a struggle, the importance of which had 
 wholly escaped him, Paul's only auxiliary was the old 
 notary, Mathias. Both were about to be confronted, 
 unaware and defenceless, by a most unexpected circum- 
 stance ; to be pressed by an enemy whose strategy was 
 planned, and driven to decide on a course without hav- 
 ing time to reflect upon it. Where is the man who 
 would not have succumbed, even though assisted by 
 Cujas and Barthole? How should he look for deceit 
 and treachery where all seemed compliant and natural? 
 What could old Mathias do alone against Madame 
 Evangelista, against Solonet, against Natalie, espe- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 49 
 
 cially when a client in love goes over to the enemy as 
 soon as the rising conflict threatens his happiness? 
 Already Paul was damaging his cause by making the 
 customary lover's speeches, to which his passion gave 
 excessive value in the ears of Madame Evangelista, 
 whose object it was to drive him to commit himself. 
 
 The matrimonial condottieri now about to fight for 
 their clients, whose personal powers were to be so 
 vitally important in this solemn encounter, the two 
 notaries, in short, represent individually the old and the 
 new systems, — old-fashioned notarial usage, and the 
 new-fangled modern procedure. 
 
 Maitre Mathias was a worthy old gentleman sixty- 
 nine years of age, who took great pride in his forty 
 years' exercise of the profession. His huge gouty feet 
 were encased in shoes with silver buckles, making a 
 ridiculous termination to legs so spindling, with knees 
 so bony, that when he crossed them they made you 
 think of the emblems on a tombstone. His puny little 
 thighs, lost in a pair of wide black breeches fastened 
 with buckles, seemed to bend beneath the weight of a 
 round stomach and a torso developed, like that of most 
 sedentary persons, into a stout barrel, always buttoned 
 into a green coat with square tails, which no man could 
 remember to have ever seen new. His hair, well 
 brushed and powdered, was tied in a rat's tail that lay 
 between the collar of his coat • and that of his waist- 
 coat, which was white, with a pattern of flowers. 
 With his round head, his face the color of a vine- 
 leaf, his blue eyes, a trumpet nose, a thick-lipped 
 mouth, and a double chin, the dear old fellow excited, 
 whenever he appeared among strangers who did not 
 
 4 
 
50 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 know him, that satirical laugh which Frenchmen so 
 generously bestow on the ludicrous creations Dame 
 Nature occasionally allows herself, which Art delights 
 in exaggerating under the name of caricatures. 
 
 But in Maitre Mathias, mind had triumphed over 
 form ; the qualities of his soul had vanquished the od- 
 dities of his body. The inhabitants of Bordeaux, as a 
 rule, testified a friendly respect and a deference that 
 was full of esteem for him. The old man's voice went 
 to their hearts and sounded there with the eloquence of 
 uprightness. His craft consisted in going straight to 
 the fact, overturning all subterfuge and evil devices 
 by plain questionings. His quick perception, his long 
 training in his profession gave him that divining sense 
 which goes to the depths of conscience and reads its 
 secret thoughts. Though grave and deliberate in busi- 
 ness, the patriarch could be gay with the gayety of our 
 ancestors. He could risk a song after dinner, enjoy 
 all family festivities, celebrate the birthdays of grand- 
 mothers and children, and bury with due solemnity the 
 Christmas log. He loved to send presents at New 
 Year, and eggs at Easter ; he believed in the duties of 
 a godfather, and never deserted the customs which 
 colored the life of the olden time. Maitre Mathias 
 was a noble and venerable relic of the notaries, obscure 
 great men, who gave no receipt for the millions in- 
 trusted to them, but returned those millions in the 
 sacks they were delivered in, tied with the same twine ; 
 men who fulfilled their trusts to the letter, drew honest 
 inventories, took fatherly interest in their clients, often 
 barring the way to extravagance and dissipation, — 
 men to whom families confided their secrets, and who 
 
The Marriage Contract. 51 
 
 felt so responsible for any error in their deeds that they 
 meditated long and carefully over them. Never dur- 
 ing his whole notarial life, had any client found reason 
 to complain of a bad investment or an ill-placed mort- 
 gage. His own fortune, slowly but honorably ac- 
 quired, had come to him as the result of a thirty years' 
 practice and careful economy. He had established in 
 life fourteen of his clerks. Religious, and generous in 
 secret, Mathias was found wherever good was to be 
 done without remuneration. An active member on hos- 
 pital and other benevolent committees, he subscribed 
 the largest sums to relieve all sudden misfortunes and 
 emergencies, as well as to create certain useful perma- 
 nent institutions ; consequently, neither he nor his 
 wife kept a carriage. Also his word was felt to be 
 sacred, and his coffers held as much of the money of 
 others as a bank ; and also, we may add, he went by 
 the name of u Our good Monsieur Mathias," and when 
 he died, three thousand persons followed him to his 
 grave. 
 
 Solonet was the style of young notary who comes in 
 humming a tune, affects light-heartedness, declares 
 that business is better done with a lausfh than seri- 
 ously. He is the notary captain of the national guard, 
 who dislikes to be taken for a notarv, solicits the cross 
 of the Legion of honor, keeps his cabriolet, and leaves 
 the verification of his deeds to his clerks ; he is the 
 notary who goes to balls and theatres, buys pic- 
 tures and plays at ecarte ; he has coffers in which gold 
 is received on deposit and is later returned in bank- 
 bills, — a notary who follows his epoch, risks capital in 
 doubtful investments, speculates with all he can lay his 
 
52 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 hands on, and expects to retire with an income of 
 thirty thousand francs after ten years' practice ; in 
 short, the notary whose cleverness comes of his dupli- 
 city, whom many men fear as an accomplice possessing 
 their secrets, and who sees in his practice a means of 
 ultimately marrying some blue-stockinged heiress. 
 
 When the slender, fair-haired Solonet, curled, per- 
 fumed, and booted like the leading gentleman at the 
 Vaudeville, and dressed like a dandy whose most im- 
 portant business is a duel, entered Madame Evan- 
 gelista's salon, preceding his brother notary, whose 
 advance was delayed by a twinge of the gout, the two 
 men presented to the life one of those famous carica- 
 tures entitled "Former Times and the Present Day," 
 which had such eminent success under the Empire. If 
 Madame and Mademoiselle Evaugelista to whom the 
 " good Monsieur Mathias," was personally unknown, 
 felt, on first seeing him, a slight inclination to laugh, 
 they were soon touched by the old-fashioned grace 
 with which he greeted them. The words he used were 
 full of that amenity which amiable old men convey as 
 much by the ideas they suggest as by the manner in 
 which they express them. The younger notary, with 
 his flippant tone, seemed on a lower plane. Mathias 
 showed his superior knowledge of life by the reserved 
 manner with which he accosted Paul. Without com- 
 promising his white hairs, he showed that he respected 
 the young man's nobility, while at the same time he 
 claimed the honor due to old age, and made it felt that 
 social rights are mutual. Solonet's bow and greeting, 
 on the contrary, expressed a sense of perfect equality, 
 which would naturally affront the pretensions of a man 
 
The Marriage Contract. 53 
 
 of society and make the notary ridiculous in the eyes 
 of a real noble. Solonet made a motion, somewhat too 
 familiar, to Madame Evangelista, inviting her to a 
 private conference in the recess of a window. For 
 some minutes they talked to each other in a low voice, 
 giving way now and then to laughter, — no doubt to 
 lessen in the minds of others the importance of the 
 conversation, in which Solonet was really communicat- 
 ing to his sovereign lady the plan of battle. 
 
 "But," he said, as he ended, "will you have the 
 courage to sell your house ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly," she replied. 
 
 Madame Evangelista did not choose to tell her notary 
 the motive of this heroism, which struck him greatly. 
 Solonet's zeal might have cooled had he known that 
 his client was really intending to leave Bordeaux. 
 She had not as yet said anything about that intention 
 to Paul, in order not to alarm him with the preliminary 
 steps and circumlocutions which must be taken before 
 he entered on the political life she planned for him. 
 
 After dinner the two plenipotentaries left the loving 
 pair with the mother, and betook themselves to an ad- 
 joining salon where their conference was arranged to 
 take place. A dual scene then followed on this domes- 
 tic stage : in the chimney-corner of the great salon a 
 scene of love, in which to all appearance life was 
 smiles and joy; in the other room, a scene of gravity 
 and gloom, where selfish interests, baldly proclaimed, 
 openly took the part they play in life under flowery 
 disguises. 
 
 " My dear master," said Solonet, " the document can 
 remain under your lock and key ; I know very well what 
 
54 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 I owe to my old preceptor." Mathias bowed gravely. 
 " But," continued Solonet, unfolding the rough copy 
 of a deed he had made his clerk draw up, "as we are 
 the oppressed party, I mean the daughter, I have 
 written the contract — which will save you trouble. 
 We marry with our rights under the rule of community 
 of interests ; with general donation of our property to 
 each other in case of death without heirs ; if not, dona- 
 tion of one-fourth as life interest, and one-fourth in 
 fee ; the sum placed in community of interests to be 
 one-fourth of the respective property of each party ; 
 the survivor to possess the furniture without appraisal. 
 It 's all as simple as how d' ye do." 
 
 "Ta, ta, ta, ta," said Mathias, " I don't do business 
 as one sings a tune. What are your claims? " 
 
 " What are yours? " said Solonet. 
 
 "Our property" replied Mathias, "is: the estate 
 of Lanstrac, which brings in a rental of twenty-three 
 thousand francs a year, not counting the natural pro- 
 ducts. Item : the farms of Grassol and Gaudet, each 
 worth three thousand six hundred francs a year. 
 Item, : the vineyard of Belle-Rose, yielding in ordinary 
 years sixteen thousand francs ; total, forty-six thou- 
 sand two hundred francs a year. Item : the patrimo- 
 nial mansion at Bordeaux taxed for nine hundred 
 francs. Item : a handsome house, between court and 
 garden in Paris, rue de la Pepiniere, taxed for fifteen 
 hundred francs. These pieces of property, the title- 
 deeds of which I hold, are derived from our father and 
 mother, except the house in Paris, which we bought 
 ourselves. We must also reckon in the furniture of 
 the two houses, and that of the chateau of Lanstrac, 
 
The Marriage Contract. 55 
 
 estimated at four hundred and fifty thousand francs. 
 There 's the table, the cloth, and the first course. 
 What do you bring for the second course and the 
 dessert? " 
 
 " Our rights," replied Solonet. 
 
 " Specify them, my friend," said Mathias. "What 
 do you bring us? Where is the inventory of the prop- 
 erty left by Monsieur Evangelista? Show me the 
 liquidation, the investment of the amount. Where is 
 your capital ? — if there is any capital. Where is 
 your landed property? — if you have any. In short, 
 let us see your guardianship account, and tell us what 
 you bring and what your mother will secure to us." 
 
 " Does Monsieur le Comte de Manerville love Made- 
 moiselle Evangelista?" 
 
 " He wishes to make her his wife if the marriage can 
 be suitably arranged," said the old notary. " I am not 
 a child ; this matter concerns our business, and not our 
 feelings." 
 
 " The marriage will be off unless you show gener- 
 ous feeling; and for this reason," continued Solonet. 
 u No inventory was made at the death of our husband ; 
 we are Spaniards, Creoles, and know nothing of French 
 laws. Besides, we were too deeply grieved at our loss 
 to think at such a time of the miserable formalities 
 which occupy cold hearts. It is publicly well known 
 that our late husband adored us, and that we mourned 
 for him sincerely. If we did have a settlement of ac- 
 counts with a short inventory attached, made, as one 
 may say, by common report, you can thank our surro- 
 gate guardian, who obliged us to establish a status and 
 assign to our daughter a fortune, such as it is, at a 
 
56 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 time when we were forced to withdraw from London 
 our English securities, the capital of which was im- 
 mense, and re-invest the proceeds in Paris, where inter- 
 ests were doubled." 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense to me. There are various 
 ways of verifying the property. What was the amount 
 of your legacy tax? Those figures will enable us to 
 get at the total. Come to the point. Tell us frankly 
 what you received from the father's estate and how 
 much remains of it. If we are very much in love 
 we'll see then what we can do." 
 
 " If you are marrying us for our money you can go 
 about your business. We have claims to more than a 
 million ; but all that remains to our mother is this house 
 and furniture and four hundred odd thousand francs 
 invested about 1817 in the Five-per-cents, which yield 
 about forty thousand francs a year." 
 
 " Then why do you live in a style that requires one 
 hundred thousand a year at the least?" cried Mathias, 
 horror-stricken. 
 
 " Our daughter has cost us the eyes out of our 
 head," replied Solonet, u Besides, we like to spend 
 money. Your jeremiads, let me tell you, won't re- 
 cover two farthings of the money." 
 
 " With the fifty thousand francs a year which be- 
 longed to Mademoiselle Natalie you could have brought 
 her up handsomely without coming to ruin. But if you 
 have squandered everything while you were a girl what 
 will it be when you a married woman ? " 
 
 "Then drop us altogether," said Solonet, "The 
 handsomest girl in Bordeaux has a right to spend more 
 than she has, if she likes." 
 
The Marriage Contract. 57 
 
 "I'll talk to my client about that," said the old 
 notary. 
 
 " Very good, old father Cassandra, go and tell your 
 client that we have n't a penny," thought Solonet, who, 
 in the solitude of his study, had strategically massed 
 his forces, drawn up his propositions, manned the 
 drawbridge of discussion, and prepared the point at 
 which the opposing party, thinking the affair a failure, 
 could suddenly be led into a compromise which would 
 end in the triumph of his client. 
 
 The white dress with its rose-colored ribbons, the 
 Sevigne curls, Natalie's tiny foot, her winning glance, 
 her pretty fingers constantly employed in adjusting 
 curls that needed no adjustment, these girlish manoeu- 
 vres like those of a peacock spreading his tail, had 
 brought Paul to the point at which his future mother- 
 in-law desired to see him. He was intoxicated with 
 love, and his eyes, the sure thermometer of the soul, 
 indicated the degree of passion at which a man com- 
 mits a thousand follies. 
 
 " Natalie is so beautiful," he whispered to the 
 mother, " that I can conceive the frenzy which leads a 
 man to pay for his happiness by death." 
 
 Madame Evangelista replied with a shake of her 
 head : — 
 
 "Lover's talk, my dear count. My husband never 
 said such charming things to me ; but he married me 
 without a fortune and for thirteen years he never 
 caused me one moment's pain." 
 
 " Is that a lesson you are giving me?" said Paul, 
 laughing. 
 
 " You know how I love you, my dear son," she 
 
58 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 answered, pressing his hand. " I must indeed love 
 you well to give you my Natalie." 
 
 " Give me, give me? " said the young girl, waving a 
 screen of Indian feathers, " what are you whispering 
 about me ? " 
 
 " I was telling her," replied Paul, " how much I love 
 you, since etiquette forbids me to tell it to you." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I fear to say too much." 
 
 " Ah! you know too well how to offer the jewels of 
 flattery. Shall I tell you my private opinion about 
 you? Well, I think you have more mind than a lover 
 ought to have. To be the Pink of Fashion and a wit 
 as well," she added, dropping her eyes, " is to have too 
 many advantages : a man should choose between them. 
 I fear too, myself." 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 " We must not talk in this way. Mamma, do you 
 not think that this conversation is dangerous inasmuch 
 as the contract is not yet signed ? " 
 
 " It soon will be," said Paul. 
 
 " I should like to know what Achilles and Nestor 
 are saying to each other in the next room," said 
 Natalie, nodding toward the door of the little salon 
 with a childlike expression of curiosity. 
 
 " They are talking of our children and our death and 
 a lot of other such trifles ; they are counting our gold 
 to see if we can keep five horses in the stables. They 
 are talking also of deeds of gift ; but there, I have 
 forestalled them." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " Have I not given myself wholly to you? " he said, 
 
The Marriage Contract. 59 
 
 looking straight at the girl, whose beauty was en- 
 hanced by the blush which the pleasure of this answer 
 brought to her face. 
 
 44 Mamma, how can I acknowledge so much gen- 
 erosity." 
 
 " My dear child, you have a lifetime before you in 
 which to return it. To make the daily happiness of a 
 home, is to bring a treasure into it. I had no other 
 fortune when I married." 
 
 44 Do you like Lanstrac?" asked Paul, addressing 
 Natalie. 
 
 44 How could I fail to like the place where you were 
 born?" she replied. " I wish I could see your house." 
 
 "Our house," said Paul. 44 Do you not want to 
 know if I shall understand your tastes and arrange the 
 house to suit you? Your mother had made a hus- 
 band's task most difficult ; you have always been so 
 happy! But where love is infinite, nothing is 
 impossible." 
 
 44 My dear children," said Madame Evangelista, 
 44 do you feel willing to stay in Bordeaux after your 
 marriage? If you have the courage to face the people 
 here who know you and will watch and hamper you, so 
 be it ! But if you feel that desire for a solitude 
 together which can hardly be expressed, let us go to 
 Paris where the life of a young couple can pass un- 
 noticed in the stream. There alone you can behave as 
 lovers without fearing to seem ridiculous." 
 
 44 You are quite right," said Paul, 4 ' but I shall 
 hardly have time to get my house ready. However, I 
 will write to-night to de Marsay, the friend on whom I 
 can always count to get things done for me." 
 
60 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 At the moment when Paul, like all young men accus- 
 tomed to satisfy their desires without previous calcula- 
 tion, was inconsiderately binding himself to the 
 expenses of a stay in Paris, Maltre Mathias entered 
 the salon and made a sign to his client that he wished 
 to speak to him. 
 
 " What is it, my friend? " asked Paul, following the 
 old man to the recess of a window. 
 
 41 Monsieur le comte," said the honest lawyer, 
 44 there is not a penny of dowry. My advice is: 
 put off the conference to another day, so that you may 
 gain time to consider your proper course." 
 
 44 Monsieur Paul," said Natalie, "I have a word to 
 say in private to you." 
 
 Though Madame Evangelista's face was calm, no 
 Jew of the middle ages ever suffered greater torture in 
 his caldron of boiling oil than she was enduring in her 
 violet velvet gown. Solonet had pledged the marriage 
 to her, but she was ignorant of the means and condi- 
 tions of success. The anguish of this uncertainty was 
 intolerable. Possibly she owed her safety to her 
 daughter's disobedience. Natalie had considered the 
 advice of her mother and noticed her anxiety. When 
 she saw the success of her own coquetry she was struck 
 to the heart with a variety of contradictory thoughts. 
 Without blaming her mother, she was half-ashamed 
 of manoeuvres the object of which was, undoubtedly, 
 some personal game. She was also seized with a jeal- 
 ous curiosity which is easily conceived. She wanted 
 to find out if Paul loved her well enough to rise above 
 the obstacles that her mother foresaw and which she 
 now saw clouding the face of the old lawyer. These 
 
The Marriage Contract. 61 
 
 ideas and sentiments prompted her to an action of 
 loyalty which became her well. But, for all that, the 
 blackest perfidy could not have been as dangerous as 
 her present innocence. 
 
 4 'Paul," she said in a low voice, and she so called 
 him for the first time, " if any difficulties as to property 
 arise to separate us, remember that I free you from all 
 engagements, and will allow you to let the blame of 
 such a rupture rest on me." 
 
 She put such dignity into this expression of her 
 generosity that Paul believed in her disinterestedness 
 and in her ignorance of the strange fact that his notary 
 had just told to him. He pressed the young girl's 
 hand and kissed it like a man to whom love is more 
 precious than wealth. Natalie left the room. 
 
 44 Sac-a-papier ! Monsieur le comte, you are com- 
 mitting a great folly," said the old notary, rejoining his 
 client. 
 
 Paul grew thoughtful. He had expected to unite 
 Natalie's fortune with his own and thus obtain for his 
 married life an income of one hundred thousand francs 
 a year ; and however much a man may be in love he 
 cannot pass without emotion and anxiety from the 
 prospect of a hundred thousand to the certainty of 
 forty-six thousand francs a year and the duty of pro- 
 viding for a woman accustomed to every luxury. 
 
 44 My daughter is no longer here," said Madame 
 Evangelista, advancing almost regally toward her son- 
 in-law and his notary. 44 May I be told what is 
 happening? " 
 
 44 Madame," replied Mathias, alarmed at Paul's 
 silence, 44 an obstacle which I fear will delay us has 
 arisen — " 
 
62 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 At these words, Maitre Solonet issued from the 
 little salon and cut short the old man's speech by a 
 remark which restored Paul's composure. Overcome 
 by the remembrance of his gallant speeches and his 
 lover-like behavior, he felt unable to disown them or to 
 change his course. He longed, for the moment, to 
 fling himself into a gulf ; Solonet's words relieved 
 him. 
 
 " There is a way," said the younger notary, with an 
 easy air, "by which madame can meet the payment 
 which is due to her daughter. Madame Evaugelista 
 possesses forty thousand francs a year from an invest- 
 ment in the Five-per-cents, the capital of which will 
 soon be at par, if not above it. We may therefore 
 reckon it at eight hundred thousand francs. This 
 house and garden are fully worth two hundred thou- 
 sand. On that estimate, Madame can convey by the 
 marriage contract the titles of that property to her 
 daughter, reserving only a life interest in it — for I 
 conclude that Monsieur le comte could hardly wish to 
 leave his mother-in-law without means? Though 
 Madame has certainly run through her fortune, she is 
 still able to make good that of her daughter, or very 
 nearly so." 
 
 "Women are most unfortunate in having no know- 
 ledge of business," said Madame Evangelista. "Have 
 I titles to property ? and what are life-interests ? " 
 
 Paul was in a sort of ecstasy as he listened to the 
 proposed arrangement. The old notary, seeing the 
 trap, and his client with one foot caught in it, was 
 petrified for a moment, as he said to himself: — 
 
 "I am certain they are tricking us." 
 
The Marriage Contract. 63 
 
 "If madame will follow my advice," said Solonet, 
 "she will secure her own tranquillity. By sacrificing 
 herself in this way she may be sure that no minors 
 will ultimately harass her — for we never know who 
 may live and who may die! Monsieur le comte will 
 then give due acknowledgment in the marriage con- 
 tract of having received the sum total of Mademoiselle 
 Evangelista's patrimonial inheritance." 
 
 Mathias could not restrain the indignation which 
 shone in his eyes and flushed his face. 
 
 "And that sum," he said, shaking, "is — " 
 
 "One million, one hundred and fifty-six thousand 
 francs according to the document — " 
 
 "Why don't you ask Monsieur le comte to make 
 over hie et nunc his whole fortune to his future wife?" 
 said Mathias. "It would be more honest than what 
 you now propose. I will not allow the ruin of the 
 Comte de Manerville to take place under my very 
 eyes — " 
 
 He made a step as if to address his client, who was 
 silent throughout this scene as if dazed by it; but he 
 turned and said, addressing Madame Evangelista : — 
 
 "Do not suppose, madame, that I think you a party 
 to these ideas of my brother notary. I consider you 
 an honest woman and a lady who knows nothing of 
 business." 
 
 "Thank you, brother notary," said Solonet. 
 
 "You know that there can be no offence between 
 you and me," replied Mathias. "Madame," he added, 
 "you ought to know the result of this proposed arrange- 
 ment. You are still young and beautiful enough to 
 marry again — Ah! madame," said the old man, 
 
64 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 noting her gesture, "who can answer for themselves 
 on that point? " 
 
 "I did not suppose, monsieur," said Madame Evan- 
 gelista, " that, after remaining a widow for the seven 
 best years of my life, and refusing the most brilliant 
 offers for my daughter's sake, I should be suspected 
 of such a piece of folly as marrying again at thirty- 
 nine years of age. If we were not talking business I 
 should regard your suggestion as an impertinence." 
 
 "Would it not be more impertinent if I suggested 
 that you could not marry again ? " 
 
 "Can and will are separate terms," remarked 
 Solonet, gallantly." 
 
 "Well," resumed Mattre Mathias, "we will say 
 nothing of your marriage. You may, and we all 
 desire it, live for forty-five years to come. Now, if 
 you keep for yourself the life-interest in your daugh- 
 ter's patrimony, your children are laid on the shelf for 
 the best years of their lives." 
 
 "What does that mean? " said the widow. "I don't 
 understand being laid on a shelf. 
 
 Solonet, the man of elegance and good taste, began 
 to laugh. 
 
 "I '11 translate it for you," said Mathias. "If your 
 children are wise they will think of the future. To 
 think of the future means laying by half -our income, 
 provided we have only two children, to whom we are 
 bound to give a fine education and a handsome dowry. 
 Your daughter and son-in-law will, therefore, be 
 reduced to live on twenty thousand francs a year, 
 though each has spent fifty thousand while still un- 
 married. But that is nothing. The law obliges my 
 
The Marriage Contract. 65 
 
 client to account, hereafter, to his children for the 
 eleven hundred and fifty-six thousand francs of their 
 mother's patrimony; yet he may not have received 
 them if his wife should die and madame should sur- 
 vive her, which may very well happen. To sign such 
 a contract is to fling one's self into the river, bound 
 hand and foot. You wish to make your daughter 
 happy, do you not? If she loves her husband, a fact 
 which notaries never doubt, she will share his troubles. 
 Madame, I see enough in this scheme to make her die 
 of grief and anxiety; you are consigning her to pov- 
 erty. Yes, madame, poverty; to persons accustomed 
 to the use of one hundred thousand francs a year, 
 twenty thousand is poverty. Moreover, if Monsieur 
 le comte, out of love for his wife, were guilty of 
 extravagance, she could ruin him by exercising her 
 rights when misfortunes overtook him. I plead now 
 for you, for them, for their children, for every one." 
 
 4 'The old fellow makes a lot of smoke with his can- 
 non," thought Maitre Solonet, giving his client a look, 
 which meant, "Keep on! " 
 
 "There is one way of combining all interests," 
 replied Madame Evangelista, calmly. "I can reserve 
 to myself only the necessary cost of living in a con- 
 vent, and my children can have my property at once. 
 I can renounce the world, if such anticipated death 
 conduces to the welfare of my daughter." 
 
 "Madame," said the old notary, "let us take time 
 to consider and weigh, deliberately, the course we had 
 best pursue to conciliate all interests." 
 
 " Good heavens! monsieur," cried Madame Evan- 
 gelista, who saw defeat in delay, "everything has 
 
 5 
 
66 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 already been considered and weighed. I was ignorant 
 of what the process of marriage is in France ; I am a 
 Spaniard and a Creole, I did not know that in order 
 to marry my daughter it was necessary to reckon up 
 the days which God may still grant me; that my 
 child would suffer because I live; that I do harm 
 by living, and by having lived! When my husband 
 married me I had nothing but my name and my 
 person. My name alone was a fortune to him, which 
 dwarfed his own. What wealth can equal that of a 
 great name? My dowry was beauty, virtue, happiness, 
 birth, education. Can money give those treasures? 
 If Natalie's father could overhear this conversation, 
 his generous soul would be wounded forever, and his 
 happiness in paradise destroyed. I dissipated, fool- 
 ishly, perhaps, a few of his millions without a quiver 
 ever coming to his eyelids. Since his death, I have 
 grown economical and orderly in comparison with 
 the life he encouraged me to lead — Come, let us 
 break this thing off! Monsieur de Manerville is so 
 disappointed that I — " 
 
 No descriptive language can express the confusion 
 and shock which the words, "break off," introduced 
 into the conversation. It is enough to say that these 
 four apparently well-bred persons all talked at once. 
 
 "In Spain people marry in the Spanish fashion, or 
 as they please; but in France they marry according 
 to French law, sensibly, and as best they can," said 
 Mathias. 
 
 "Ah, madame," cried Paul, coming out of his 
 stupefaction, "you mistake my feelings." 
 
 "This is not a matter of feeling," said the old 
 
ti- 
 ll 
 
 The Marriage Contract. 67 
 
 notary, trying to stop his client from concessions. 
 "We are concerned now with the interests and welfare 
 of three generations. Have ive wasted the missing 
 millions? We are simply endeavoring to solve dilli- 
 culties of which we are wholly guiltless." 
 Marry us, and don't haggle," said Solonet. 
 Haggle! do you call it haggling to defend the 
 interests of father and mother and children?" said 
 Mathias. 
 
 "Yes," said Paul, continuing his remarks to 
 Madame Evangel ista, "I deplore the extravagance of 
 my youth, which does not permit me to stop this dis- 
 cussion, as you deplore your ignorance of business 
 and your involuntary wastefulness. God is my wit- 
 ness that I am not thinking, at this moment, of my- 
 self. A simple life at Lanstrac does not alarm me; 
 but how can I ask Mademoiselle Natalie to renounce 
 her tastes, her habits? Her very existence would be 
 changed." 
 
 "Where did fivangelista get his millions?" said 
 the widow. 
 
 "Monsieur Evangelista was in business," replied 
 the old notary; "he played in the great game of 
 commerce; he despatched ships and made enormous 
 sums; we are simply a landowner, whose capital is 
 invested, whose income is fixed." 
 
 "There is still a way to harmonize all interests," 
 said Solonet, uttering this sentence in a high falsetto 
 tone, which silenced the other three and drew their 
 eyes and their attention upon himself. 
 
 This young man was not unlike a skilful coachman 
 who holds the reins of four horses, and amuses himself 
 
68 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 by first exciting his animals and then subduing them. 
 He had let loose these passions, and then, in turn, he 
 calmed them, making Paul, whose life and happiness 
 were in the balance, sweat in his harness, as well as 
 his own client, who could not clearly see her way 
 through this involved discussion. 
 
 "Madame Evangelista," he continued, after a slight 
 pause, "can resign her investment in the Five-per- 
 cents at once, and she can sell this house. I can get 
 three hundred thousand for it by cutting the land into 
 small lots. Out of that sum she can give you one 
 hundred and fifty thousand francs. In this way she 
 pays down nine hundred thousand of her daughter's 
 patrimony, immediately. That, to be sure, is not all 
 that she owes her daughter, but where will you find, in 
 France, a better dowry ? " 
 
 "Very good," said Maftre Mathias; "but what, 
 then, becomes of madame?" 
 
 At this question, which appeared to imply consent, 
 Solonet said, softly, to himself, "Well done, old fox! 
 I 've caught you! " 
 
 "Madame," he replied, aloud, "will keep the hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand francs remaining from the 
 sale of the house. This sum, added to the value of 
 her furniture, can be invested in an annuity which will 
 give her twenty thousand francs a year. Monsieur le 
 comte can arrange to provide a residence for her under 
 his roof. Lanstrac is a large house. You have also 
 a house in Paris," he went on, addressing himself to 
 Paul. "Madame can, therefore, live with you where- 
 ever you are. A widow with twenty thousand francs 
 a year, and no household to maintain, is richer than 
 
The Marriage Contract. 69 
 
 madame was when she possessed her whole fortune. 
 Madame Evangelista has only this one daughter; 
 Monsieur le comte is without relations; it will be 
 many years before your heirs attain their majority; 
 no conflict of interests is, therefore, to be feared. A 
 mother-in-law and a son-in-law placed in such rela- 
 tions will form a household of united interests. 
 Madame Evangelista can make up for the remaining 
 deficit by paying a certain sum for her support from 
 her annuity, which will ease your way. We know that 
 madame is too generous and too large-minded to be 
 willing to be a burden on her children. In this way 
 you can make one household, united and happy, and 
 be able to spend, in your own right, one hundred 
 thousand francs a year. Is not that sum sufficient, 
 Monsieur le comte, to enjoy, in all countries, the 
 luxuries of life, and to satisfy all your wants and 
 caprices? Believe me, a young couple often feel the 
 need of a third member of the household ; and, I ask 
 you, what third member could be so desirable as a 
 good mother ? " 
 
 "A little paradise! " exclaimed the old notary. 
 
 Shocked to see his client's joy at this proposal, 
 Mathias sat down on an ottoman, his head in his 
 hands, plunged in reflections that were evidently pain- 
 ful. He knew well the involved phraseology in which 
 notaries and lawyers wrap up, intentionally, malicious 
 schemes, and he was not the man to be taken in by it. 
 He now began, furtively, to watch his brother notary 
 and Madame Evangelista as they conversed with Paul, 
 endeavoring to detect some clew to the deep-laid plot 
 which was beginning to appear upon the surface. 
 
70 The Marriage Contract 
 
 kf 
 
 'Monsieur," said Paul to Solonet, "I thank you for 
 the pains you take to conciliate our interests. This 
 arrangement will solve all difficulties far more happily 
 than I expected — if," he added, turning to Madame 
 Evangelista, "it is agreeable to you, madame; for I 
 could not desire anything that did not equally please 
 you." 
 
 "I?" she said; "all that makes the happiness of 
 my children is joy to me. Do not consider me in any 
 way." 
 
 "That would not be right," said Paul, eagerly. "If 
 your future is not honorably provided for, Natalie 
 and I would suffer more than you would suffer for 
 yourself. " 
 
 "Don't be uneasy, Monsieur le comte," interposed 
 Solonet. 
 
 "Ah!" thought old Mathias, "they'll make him 
 kiss the rod before .they scourge him." 
 
 "You may feel quite satisfied," continued Solonet. 
 "There are s6 many enterprises going on in Bordeaux 
 at this moment that investments for annuities can be 
 negotiated on very advantageous terms. After deduct- 
 ing from the proceeds of the house and furniture the 
 hundred and fifty thousand francs we owe you, I think 
 I can guarantee to madame that two hundred and fifty 
 thousand will remain to her. I take upon myself to 
 invest that sum in a first mortgage on property worth 
 a million, and to obtain ten per cent for it, — twenty- 
 five thousand francs a year. Consequently, we are 
 marrying on nearly equal fortunes. In fact, against 
 your forty-six thousand francs a year, Mademoiselle 
 Natalie brings you forty thousand a year in the Five- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 71 
 
 per-cents, and one hundred and fifty thousand in a 
 round sum, which gives, in all, forty-seven thousand 
 francs a year." 
 
 "That is evident," said Paul. 
 
 As he ended his speech, Solonet had cast a sidelong 
 glance at his client, intercepted by Mathias, which 
 meant: "Bring up your reserves." 
 
 "But," exclaimed Madame EvangeUista, in tones of 
 joy that did not seem to be feigned, "I can give 
 Natalie my diamonds; they are worth, at least, a 
 hundred thousand francs." 
 
 "We can have them appraised," said the notary." 
 "This will change the whole face of things. Madame 
 can then keep the proceeds of her house, all but fifty 
 thousand francs. Nothing will prevent Monsieur le 
 comte from giving us a receipt in due form, as having 
 received, in full, Mademoiselle Natalie's inheritance 
 from her father; this will close, of course, the guard- 
 ianship account. If madame, with Spanish gener- 
 osity, robs herself in this way to fulfil her obligations, 
 the least that her children can do is to give her a full 
 receipt." 
 
 "Nothing could be more just than that," said Paul. 
 "I am simply overwhelmed by these generous pro- 
 posals." 
 
 "My daughter is another myself," said Madame 
 Evangelista, softly. 
 
 Maitre Mathias detected a look of joy on her face 
 when she saw that the difficulties were being removed : 
 that joy, and the previous forgetfulness of the dia- 
 monds which were now brought forward like fresh 
 troops, confirmed his suspicions. 
 
72 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 "The scene has been prepared between them as 
 gamblers prepare the cards to ruin a pigeon," thought 
 the old notary. "Is this poor boy, whom I saw born, 
 doomed to be plucked alive by that woman, roasted 
 by his very love, and devoured by his wife? I, who 
 have nursed these fine estates for years with such care, 
 am I to see them ruined in a single night? Three 
 million and a half to be hypothecated for eleven hun- 
 dred thousand francs these women will force him to 
 squander ! " 
 
 Discovering thus in the soul of the elder woman 
 intentions which, without involving crime, theft, 
 swindling, or any actually evil or blameworthy action, 
 nevertheless belonged to all those criminalities in 
 embryo, Maitre Mathias felt neither sorrow nor gen- 
 erous indignation. He was not the Misanthrope; he 
 was an old notary, accustomed in his business to the 
 shrewd calculations of worldly people, to those clever 
 bits of treachery which do more fatal injury than open 
 murder on the high-road committed by some poor devil, 
 who is guillotined in consequence. To the upper 
 classes of society these passages in life, these diplo- 
 matic meetings and discussions are like the necessary 
 cesspools where the filth of life is thrown. Full of 
 pity for his client, Mathias cast a foreseeing eye into 
 the future and saw nothing good. 
 
 "We '11 take the field with the same weapons," 
 thought he, "and beat them." 
 
 At this moment, Paul, Solonet and Madame Evange- 
 lista, becoming embarrassed by the old man's silence, 
 felt that the approval of that censor was necessary to 
 carry out the transaction, and all three turned to him 
 simultaneously. 
 
The Marriage Contract 73 
 
 "Well, my dear Monsieur Mathias, what do you 
 think of it?" said Paul. 
 
 "This is what I think," said the conscientious and 
 uncompromising notary. "You are not rich enough 
 to commit such regal folly. The estate of Lanstrac, if 
 estimated at three per cent on its rentals, represents, 
 with its furniture, one million; the farms of Grassol 
 and Guadet and your vineyard of Belle-Rose are worth 
 another million; your two houses in Bordeaux and 
 Paris, with their furniture, a third million. Against 
 these three millions, yielding forty-seven thousand 
 francs a year, Mademoiselle Natalie brings eight 
 hundred thousand francs in the Five-per-cents, the 
 diamonds (supposing them to be worth a hundred 
 thousand francs, which is still problematical) and fifty 
 thousand francs in money; in all, one million and 
 fifty thousand francs. In presence of such facts my 
 brother notary tells you boastfully that we are marry- 
 ing equal fortunes! He expects us to encumber our- 
 selves with a debt of eleven hundred and fifty-six 
 thousand francs to our children by acknowledging the 
 receipt of our wife's patrimony, when we have actually 
 received but little more than a doubtful million. You 
 are listening to such stuff with the rapture of a lover, 
 and you think that old Mathias, who is not in love, 
 can forget arithmetic, and will not point out the 
 difference between landed estate, the actual value of 
 which is enormous and constantly increasing, and the 
 revenues of personal property, the capital of which is 
 subject to fluctuations and diminishment of income. 
 I am old enough to have learned that money dwindles 
 and land augments. You have called me in, Monsieur 
 
74 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 le comte, to stipulate for your interests ; either let me 
 defend those interests, or dismiss me." 
 
 "If monsieur is seeking a fortune equal in capital 
 to his own," said Solonet, "we certainly cannot give 
 it to him. We do not possess three millions and a 
 half; nothing can be more evident. While you can 
 boast of your three overwhelming millions, we can 
 only produce our one poor million, — a mere nothing 
 in your eyes, though three times the dowry of an 
 archduchess of Austria. Bonaparte received only 
 two hundred and fifty thousand francs with Maria- 
 Louisa." 
 
 "Maria-Louisa was the ruin of Bonaparte," muttered 
 Mathias. 
 
 Natalie's mother caught the words. 
 
 "If my sacrifices are worth nothing," she cried, "I 
 do not choose to continue such a discussion ; I trust 
 to the discretion of Monsieur le comte, and I renounce 
 the honor of his hand for my daughter." 
 
 According to the strategy marked out by the younger 
 notary, this battle of contending interests had now 
 reached the point where victory was certain for 
 Madame Evangelista. The mother-in-law had opened 
 her heart, delivered up her property, and was there- 
 fore practically released as her daughter's guardian. 
 The future husband, under pain of ignoring the laws 
 of generous propriety and being false to love, ought 
 now to accept these conditions previously planned, and 
 cleverly led up to by Solonet and Madame Evangelista. 
 Like the hands of a clock turned by mechanism, Paul 
 came faithfully up to time. 
 
 "Madame! " he exclaimed, "is it possible you can 
 think of breaking off the marriage? " 
 
The Marriage Contract. 75 
 
 "Monsieur," she replied, "to whom am I account- 
 able? To my daughter. When she is twenty-one years 
 of age she will receive my guardianship account and 
 release me. She will then possess a million, and can, 
 if she likes, choose her husband among the sons of 
 the peers of France. She is a daughter of the Casa- 
 Reale." 
 
 "Madame is right," remarked Solonet. "Why 
 should she be more hardly pushed to-day than she 
 will be fourteen months hence? You ought not to 
 deprive her of the benefits of her maternity." 
 
 "Mathias! " cried Paul, in deep distress, "there are 
 two sorts of ruin, and you are bringing one upon me 
 at this moment." 
 
 He made a step toward the old notary, no doubt 
 intending to tell him that the contract must be drawn 
 at once. But Mathias stopped that disaster with a 
 glance which said, distinctly, "Wait! " He saw the 
 tears in Paul's eyes, — tears drawn from an honorable 
 man by the shame of this discussion as much as by the 
 peremptory speech of Madame Evangelista, threaten- 
 ing rupture, — and the old man stanched them with a 
 gesture like that of Archimedes when he cried, 
 " Eureka!" The words j^eer of France had been to 
 him like a torch in a dark crypt. 
 
 Natalie appeared at this moment, dazzling as the 
 dawn, saying, with infantine look and manner, "Am 
 I in the way? " 
 
 "Singularly so, my child," answered her mother, in 
 a bitter tone. 
 
 "Come in, dear Natalie," said Paul, taking her 
 hand and leading her to a chair near the fireplace. 
 "All is settled." 
 
76 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 He felt i f impossible to endure the overthrow of 
 their mutual hopes. 
 
 "Yes, all can be settled," said Mathias, hastily 
 interposing. 
 
 Like a general who, in a moment, upsets the plans 
 skilfully laid and prepared by the enemy, the old 
 notary, enlightened by that genius which presides over 
 notaries, saw an -idea, capable of saving the future of 
 Paul and his children, unfolding itself in legal form 
 before his eyes. 
 
 Maitre Solonet, who perceived no other way out of 
 these irreconcilable difficulties than the resolution with 
 which Paul's love inspired him, and to which this 
 conflict of feelings and thwarted interests had brought 
 him, was extremely surprised at the sudden exclam- 
 ation of his brother-notary. Curious to know the 
 remedy that Mathias had found in a state of things 
 which had seemed to him beyond all other relief, he 
 said, addressing the old man : — 
 
 "What is it you propose? " 
 
 "Natalie, my dear child, leave us," said Madame 
 Evangelista. 
 
 "Mademoiselle is not in the way," replied Mathias, 
 smiling. "I am going to speak in her interests as well 
 as in those of Monsieur le comte." 
 
 Silence reigned for a moment, during which time 
 everybody present, oppressed with anxiety, awaited the 
 allocution of the venerable notary with unspeakable 
 curiosity. 
 
 "In these days," continued Maitre Mathias, after a 
 pause, "the profession of notary has changed from 
 what it was. Political revolutions now exert an influ- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 77 
 
 ence over the prospects of families, which never hap- 
 pened in former times. In those days existences were 
 clearly defined; so were rank and position — " 
 
 "We are not here for a lecture on political economy, 
 but to draw up a marriage contract," said Solonet, 
 interrupting the old man, impatiently. 
 
 "I beg you to allow me to speak in my turn as I see 
 fit," replied the other. 
 
 Solonet turned away and sat down on the ottoman, 
 saying, in a low voice, to Madame Evangelista: — 
 
 "You will now hear what we call in the profession 
 balderdash." 
 
 "Notaries are therefore compelled to follow the 
 course of political events, which are now intimately 
 connected with private interests. Here is an example : 
 formerly noble families owned fortunes that were 
 never shaken, but which the laws, promulgated by the 
 Revolution, destroyed, and the present system tends 
 to reconstruct," resumed the old notary, yielding to 
 the loquacity of the tabeUionarls boa-constrictor (boa- 
 notary). "Monsieur le comte by his name, his talents, 
 and his fortune is called upon to sit some day in the 
 elective Chamber. Perhaps his destiny will take him 
 to the hereditary Chamber, for we know that he has 
 talent and means enough to fulfil that expectation. 
 Do you not agree with me, madame?" he added, 
 turning to the widow. 
 
 "You anticipate my dearest hope," she replied. 
 "Monsieur de Manerville must be a peer of France, 
 or I shall die of mortification." 
 
 "Therefore all that leads to that end — " continued 
 Mathias with a cordial gesture to the astute mother- 
 in-law. 
 
78 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 " — will promote my eager desire," she replied. 
 
 "Well, then," said Mathias, "is not this marriage 
 the proper occasion on which to entail the estate and 
 create the family? Such a course would, undoubtedly, 
 militate in the mind of the present government in 
 favor of the nomination of my client whenever a batch 
 of appointments is sent in. Monsieur le comte can 
 very well afford to devote the estate of Lanstrac 
 (which is worth a million) to this purpose. I do not 
 ask that mademoiselle should contribute an equal sum ; 
 that would not be just. But we cac surely apply eight 
 hundred thousand of her patrimony to this object. 
 There are two domains adjoining Lanstrac now to be 
 sold, which can be purchased for that sum, which will 
 return in rentals four and a half per cent. The house 
 in Paris should be included in the entail. The sur- 
 plus of the two fortunes, if judiciously managed, will 
 amply suffice for the fortunes of the younger children. 
 If the contracting parties will agree to this arrange- 
 ment, Monsieur ought certainly to accept your guard- 
 ianship account with its deficiency. I consent to 
 that." 
 
 " Questa coda non e di questo gatto (That tail does n't 
 belong to that cat)," murmured Madame Evangelista, 
 appealing to Solonet. 
 
 "There 's a snake in the grass somewhere," 
 answered Solonet, in a low voice, replying to the 
 Italian proverb with a French one. 
 
 "Why do you make this fuss?" asked Paul, leading 
 Mathias into the adjoining salon. 
 
 "To save you from being ruined," replied the old 
 notary, in a whisper. "You are determined to marry 
 
The Marriage Contract. 79 
 
 a girl and her mother who have already squandered 
 two millions in seven years; you are pledging your- 
 self to a debt of eleven hundred thousand francs to 
 your children, to whom you will have to account for 
 the fortune you are acknowledging to have received 
 with their mother. You risk having your own fortune 
 squandered in five years, and to be left as naked as 
 Saint-John himself, besides being a debtor to your 
 wife and children for enormous sums. If you are 
 determined to put your life in that boat, Monsieur le 
 comte, of course you can do as you choose; but at 
 least let me, your old friend, try to save the house of 
 Manerville." 
 
 " How is this scheme going to save it?" asked Paul. 
 
 "Monsieur le comte, you are in love — " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "A lover is about as discreet as a cannon-ball; 
 therefore, I shall not explain. If you repeated what 
 I should say, your marriage would probably be broken 
 off. I protect your love by my silence. Have you 
 confidence in my devotion?" 
 
 "A fine question! " 
 
 "Well, then, believe me when I tell you that Madame 
 Evangelista, her notary, and her daughter, are tricking 
 us through thick and thin ; they are more than clever. 
 Ttidieu ! what a sly game ! " 
 
 "Not Natalie? " cried Paul. 
 
 "I sha'n't put my fingers between the bark and the 
 tree," said the old man. "You want her, take her! 
 But I wish you were well out of this marriage, if it 
 could be done without the least wrong-doing on your 
 part." 
 
80 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 'Why do you wish it? " 
 
 u Because that girl will spend the mines of Peru. 
 Besides, see how she rides a horse, — like the groom 
 of a circus; she is half emancipated already. Such 
 girls make bad wives. " 
 
 Paul pressed the old man's hand, saying, with a 
 confident air of self-conceit : — 
 
 "Don't be uneasy as to that! But now, at this 
 moment, what am I to do ? " 
 
 "Hold firm to my conditions. They will consent, 
 for no one's apparent interest is injured. Madame 
 ^Ivangelista is very anxious to marry her daughter; I 
 see that in her little game — Beware of her ! " 
 
 Paul returned to the salon, where he found his future 
 mother-in-law conversing in a low tone with Solonet, 
 just as he himself had been conversing with Mathias. 
 Natalie, kept outside of these mysterious conferences, 
 was playing with a screen. Embarrassed by her posi- 
 tion, she was thinking to herself: "How odd it is that 
 they tell me nothing of my own affairs." 
 
 The younger notary had seized, in the main, the 
 future effect of the new proposal, based, as it was, on 
 the self-love of both parties, into which his client 
 had fallen headlong. Now, while Mathias was more 
 than a mere notary, Solonet was still a young man, 
 and brought into his business the vanity of youth. 
 It often happens that personal conceit makes a man 
 forgetful of the interests of his client. In this 
 case, Maitre Solonet, who would not suffer the widow 
 to think that Nestor had vanquished Achilles, advised 
 her to conclude the marriage on the terms pro- 
 posed. Little he cared for the future working of 
 
The Marriage Contract. 81 
 
 the marriage contract; to him, the conditions of 
 victory were : Madame Evangelista released from her 
 obligations as guardian, her future secured, and 
 Natalie married. 
 
 44 Bordeaux shall know that you have ceded eleven 
 hundred thousand francs to your daughter, and that 
 you still have twenty-five thousand francs a year left," 
 whispered Solonet to his client. 44 For my part, I did 
 not expect to obtain such a fine result." 
 
 44 But," she said, 4 ' explain to me why the creation of 
 this entail should have calmed the storm at once." 
 
 "It relieves their distrust of you and of your 
 daughter. An entail is unchangeable; neither hus- 
 band nor wife can touch that capital." 
 
 44 Then this arrangement is positively insulting! ' 
 
 44 No; we call it simply precaution. The old fel- 
 low has caught you in a net. If you refuse to consent 
 to the entail, he can reply: 'Then your object is to 
 squander the fortune of my client, who, by the crea- 
 tion of this entail, is protected from all such injury 
 as securely as if the marriage took place under the 
 regime dotal.' " 
 
 Solonet quieted his own scruples by reflecting: 
 44 After all, these stipulations will take effect only in 
 the future, by which time Madame Evangelista will 
 be dead and buried." 
 
 Madame Evangelista contented herself, for the pres- 
 ent, with these explanations, having full confidence 
 in Solonet. She was wholly ignorant of law; consid- 
 ering her daughter as good as married, she thought 
 she had gained her end, and was filled with the joy of 
 success. Thus, as Mathias had shrewdly calculated, 
 
 6 
 
82 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 neither Solonet nor Madame ^vangelista understood 
 as yet, to its full extent, this scheme which he had 
 based on reasons that were undeniable. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Mathias," said the widow, "all is 
 for the best, is it not ? " 
 
 "Madame, if you and Monsieur le comte consent 
 to this arrangement you ought to exchange pledges. 
 It is fully understood, I suppose," he continued, look- 
 ing from one to the other, "that the marriage will only 
 take place on condition of creating an entail' upon 
 the estate of Lanstrac and the house in the rue de la 
 Pepiniere, together with eight hundred thousand francs 
 in money brought by the future wife, the said sum 
 to be invested in landed property? Pardon me the 
 repetition, madame ; but a positive and solemn engage- 
 ment becomes absolutely necessary. The creation 
 of an entail requires formalities, application to the 
 chancellor, a royal ordinance, and we ought at once 
 to conclude the purchase of the new estate in order 
 that the property be included in the royal ordinance 
 by virtue of which it becomes inalienable. In many 
 families this would be reduced to writing, but on this 
 occasion I think a simple consent will suffice. Do 
 you consent? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Madame Evangelista. 
 
 "Yes," said Paul. 
 
 "And I? " asked Natalie, laughing. 
 You are a minor, mademoiselle," replied Solonet; 
 
 don't complain of that." 
 
 It was then agreed that Maitre Mathias should draw 
 up the contract, Maitre Solonet the guardianship 
 account and release, and that both documents should 
 
 
The Marriage Contract. 83 
 
 be signed, as the law requires some days before the 
 celebration of the marriage. After a few polite salu- 
 tations the notaries withdrew. 
 
 "It rains, Mathias; shall I take you home?" said 
 Solonet. "My cabriolet is here." 
 
 "My carriage is here, too," said Paul, manifesting 
 an intention to accompany the old man. 
 
 "I won't rob you of a moment's pleasure," said 
 Mathias. "I accept my friend Solonet's offer." 
 
 "Well," said Achilles to Nestor, as the cabriolet 
 rolled away, "you have been truly patriarchal to-night. 
 The fact is, those young people would certainly have 
 ruined themselves." 
 
 "I felt anxious about their future, "replied Mathias, 
 keeping silence as to the real motives of his propo- 
 sition. 
 
 At this moment the two notaries were like a pair 
 of actors arm in arm behind the stage on which they 
 have played a scene of hatred and provocation. 
 
 "But," said Solonet, thinking of his rights as 
 notary, "isn't it my place to buy that land you 
 mentioned? The money is part of our dowry." 
 
 "How can you put property bought in the name of 
 Mademoiselle ^vangelista into the creation of an 
 entail by the Comte de Manerville? " replied Mathias. 
 
 "We shall have to ask the chancellor about that," 
 said Solonet. 
 
 "But I am the notary of the seller as well as of the 
 buyer of that land," said Mathias. "Besides, Mon- 
 sieur de Manerville can buy in his own name. At the 
 time of payment we can make mention of the fact that 
 tne dowry funds are put into it." 
 
84 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 u- 
 
 'You 've an auswer for everything, old man," 
 said Solonet, laughing. "You were really surpassing 
 to-night; you beat us squarely." 
 
 "For an old fellowwho did n't expect your batteries 
 of grape-shot, I did pretty well, did n't I? " 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! " laughed Solonet. 
 
 The odious struggle in which the material welfare of 
 a family had been so perilously near destruction was 
 to the two notaries nothing more than a matter of 
 professional polemics. 
 
 "I haven't been forty years in harness for nothing," 
 remarked Mathias. "Look here, Solonet," he added, 
 "I'm a good fellow; you shall help in drawing the 
 deeds for the sale of those lands." 
 
 "Thanks, my dear Mathias. I'll serve you in 
 return on the very first occasion." 
 
 While the two notaries were peacefully returning 
 homeward, with no other sensations than a little 
 throaty warmth, Paul and Madame ^vangelista were 
 left a prey to the nervous trepidation, the quivering 
 of the flesh and brain which excitable natures pass 
 through after a scene in which their interests and 
 their feelings have been violently shaken. In Madame 
 ^vangelista these last mutterings of the storm were 
 overshadowed by a terrible reflection, a lurid gleam 
 which she wanted, at any cost, to dispel. 
 
 "Has Mattre Mathias destroyed in a few minutes 
 the work I have been doing for six months ? ' she 
 asked herself. "Was he withdrawing Paul from my 
 influence by filling his mind with suspicion during 
 their secret conference in the next room?" 
 
 She was standing absorbed in these thoughts before 
 
The Marriage Contract. 85 
 
 the fireplace, her elbow resting on the marble mantel- 
 shelf. When the porte-cochere closed behind the car- 
 riage of the two notaries, she turned to her future 
 son-in-law, impatient to solve her doubts. 
 
 "This has been the most terrible day of my life," 
 cried Paul, overjoyed to see all difficulties vanish. 
 "I know no one so downright in speech as that old 
 Mathias. May God hear him, and make me peer of 
 France! Dear Natalie, I desire this for your sake 
 more than for my own. You are my ambition ; I live 
 only in you." 
 
 Hearing this speech uttered in the accents of the 
 heart, and noting, more especially, the limpid azure 
 of Paul's eyes, whose glance betrayed no thought of 
 double meaning, Madame Evangelista's satisfaction 
 was complete. She regretted the sharp language with 
 which she had spurred him, and in the joy of success 
 she resolved to reassure him as to the future. Calm- 
 ing her countenance, and giving to her eyes that 
 expression of tender friendship which made her so 
 attractive, she smiled and answered : — 
 
 "I can say as much to you. Perhaps, dear Paul, 
 my Spanish nature led me farther than my heart 
 desired. Be what you are, — kind as God himself, — 
 and do not be angry with me for a few hasty words. 
 Shake hands." 
 
 Paul was abashed ; he fancied himself to blame, and 
 he kissed Madame Evangelista. 
 
 "Dear Paul," she said with much emotion, "why 
 could not those two sharks have settled this matter 
 without dragging us into it, since it was so easy to 
 settle?" 
 
86 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 tt- 
 
 Ill that case I should not have known how grand 
 and generous you can be," replied PauL 
 
 "Indeed she is, Paul!" cried Natalie, pressing his 
 hand. 
 
 44 We have still a few little matters to settle, my 
 dear son," said Madame Evangelista. "My daughter 
 and I are above the foolish vanities to which so many 
 persons cling. Natalie does not need my diamonds, 
 but I am glad to give them to her." 
 
 "Ah! my dear mother, do you suppose that I will 
 accept them ? " 
 
 " Yes, my child ; they are one of the conditions of 
 the contract." 
 
 "I will not allow it; I will not marry at all," cried 
 Natalie, vehemently. "Keep those jewels which my 
 father took such pride in collecting for you. How 
 could Monsieur Paul exact — " 
 
 "Hush, my dear," said her mother, whose eyes now 
 filled with tears. "My ignorance of business compels 
 me to a greatei sacrifice than that." 
 
 "What sacrifice? " 
 
 "I must sell my house in order to pay the money 
 that I owe to you." 
 
 "What money can you possibly owe to me?" she 
 said; "to me, who owe you life! If my marriage 
 costs you the slightest sacrifice, I will not marry." 
 
 "Child!" 
 
 "Dear Natalie, try to understand that neither I, nor 
 your mother, nor you yourself, require these sacrifices, 
 but our children." 
 
 "Suppose I do not marry at all? " 
 
 "Do you not love me? ' said Paul, tenderly. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 87 
 
 <t< 
 
 Come, come, my silly child; do you imagine that 
 a contract is like a house of cards which you can 
 blow down at will? Dear little ignoramus, you don't 
 know what trouble we have had to found an entail 
 for the benefit of your eldest son. Don't cast us 
 back into the discussions from which we have just 
 escaped." 
 
 "Why do you wish to ruiu my mother? " said Natalie, 
 looking at Paul. 
 
 "Why are you so rich? " he replied, smiling. 
 
 "Don't quarrel, my children, you are not yet mar- 
 ried," said Madame Evangelista. "Paul," she con- 
 tinued, " you are not to give either corbeille, or jewels, 
 or trousseau. Natalie has everything in profusion. 
 Lay by the money you would otherwise put into wed- 
 ding presents. I know nothing more stupidly bour- 
 geois and commonplace than to spend a hundred 
 thousand francs on a corbeille, when five thousand 
 a year given to a young woman saves her much anxiety 
 and lasts her lifetime. Besides, the money for a cor- 
 beille is needed to decorate your house in Paris. We 
 will return to Lanstrac in the spring; for Solonet is to 
 settle my debts during the winter." 
 
 "All is for the best," cried Paul, at the summit of 
 happiness." 
 
 "So I shall see Paris! " cried Natalie, in a tone that 
 would justly have alarmed de Marsay. 
 
 "If we decide upon this plan," said Paul, "I'll 
 write to de Marsay and get him to take a box for me 
 at the Bouffons and also at the Italian opera." 
 
 "You are very kind; I should never have dared to 
 ask for it," said Natalie. "Marriage is a very agree- 
 
88 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 able institution if it gives husbands a talent for 
 divining the wishes of their wives." 
 
 "It is nothing else," replied Paul. "But see how 
 late it is; I ought to go." 
 
 " Why leave so soon to-night?" said Madame £van- 
 gelista, employing those coaxing ways to which men 
 are so sensitive. 
 
 Though all this passed on the best of terms, and 
 according to the laws of the most exquisite politeness, 
 the effect of the discussion of these contending in- 
 terests had, nevertheless, cast between son and mother- 
 in-law a seed of distrust and enmitv which was liable 
 to sprout under the first heat of anger, or the warmth 
 of a feeling too harshly bruised. In most families 
 the settlement of dots and the deeds of gift required 
 by a marriage contract give rise to primitive emotions 
 of hostility, caused by self-love, by the lesion of cer- 
 tain sentiments, by regret for the sacrifices made, and 
 by the desire to diminish them. When difficulties 
 arise there is always a victorious side and a van- 
 quished one. The parents of the future pair try to 
 conclude the matter, which is purely commercial in 
 their eyes, to their own advantage; and this leads to 
 the trickery, shrewdness, and deception of such nego- 
 tiations. Generally the husband alone is initiated 
 into the secret of these discussions, and the wife is 
 kept, like Natalie, in ignorance of the stipulations 
 which make her rich or poor. 
 
 As he left the house, Paul reflected that, thanks to 
 the cleverness of his notary, his fortune was almost 
 entirely secured from injury. If Madame Evangelista 
 did not live apart from her daughter their united 
 
The Marriage Contract. 89 
 
 household would have au income of more than a hun- 
 dred thousand francs to spend. All his expectations 
 of a happy and comfortable life would be realized. 
 
 "My mother-in-law seems to me an excellent 
 woman," he thought, still under the influence of the 
 cajoling manner by which she had endeavored to dis- 
 perse the clouds raised by the discussion. "Mathias 
 is mistaken. These notaries are strange fellows ; they 
 envenom everything. The harm started from that 
 little cock-sparrow Solonet, who wanted to play a 
 clever game." 
 
 While Paul went to bed recapitulating the advan- 
 tages he had won during the evening, Madame 
 Evangelista was congratulating herself equally on her 
 victory. 
 
 "Well, darling mother, are you satisfied?" said 
 Natalie, following Madame Evangelista into her bed- 
 room. 
 
 "Yes, love," replied the mother, "everything went 
 well, according to my wishes; I feel a weight lifted 
 from my shoulders which was crushing me. Paul is 
 a most easy-going man. Dear fellow! yes, certainly, 
 we must make his life prosperous. You will make 
 him happy, and I will be responsible for his political 
 success. The Spanish ambassador used to be a friend 
 of mine, and I '11 renew the relation — as I will with 
 the rest of my old acquaintance. Oh! you '11 see! we 
 shall soon be in the very heart of Parisian life ; all will 
 be enjoyment for us. You shall have the pleasures, my 
 dearest, and I the last occupation of existence, — the 
 game of ambition! Don't be alarmed when you see 
 me selling this house. Do you suppose we shall ever 
 
90 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 come back to live in Bordeaux? no. Lanstrac? yes. 
 But we shall spend all our winters in Paris, where our 
 real interests will be. Well, Natalie, tell me, was it 
 very difficult to do what I asked of you ? " 
 
 "My little mamma! every now and then I felt 
 ashamed." 
 
 "Solonet advises me to put the proceeds of this 
 house into an annuity," said Madame Evangelista, 
 "but I shall do otherwise; I won't take a penny of 
 my fortune from you." 
 
 "I saw you were all very angry," said Natalie. 
 " How did the tempest calm down ? " 
 
 "By an offer of my diamonds," replied Madame 
 Evangelista. "Solonet was right. How ably he con- 
 ducted the whole affair. Get out my jewel-case, 
 Natalie. I have never seriously considered what my 
 diamonds are worth. When I said a hundred thou- 
 sand francs I talked nonsense. Madame de Gyas 
 always declared that the necklace and ear-rings your 
 father gave me on our marriage day were worth at 
 least that sum. My poor husband was so lavish! 
 Then my family diamond, the one Philip the Second 
 gave to the Duke of Alba, and which my aunt be- 
 queathed to me, the Discreto, was, I think, appraised 
 in former times at four thousand quadruples, — one of 
 our Spanish gold coins. 
 
 Natalie laid out upon her mother's toilet-table the 
 pearl necklace, the sets of jewels, the gold bracelets 
 and precious stones of all description, with that inex- 
 pressible sensation enjoyed by certain women at the 
 sight of such treasures, by which — so commentators 
 on the Talmud say — the fallen angels seduce the 
 
The Marriage Contract. 91 
 
 daughters of men, having sought these flowers of 
 celestial fire in the bowels of the earth. 
 
 
 
 "Certainly," said Madame Evangelista, "though 
 I know nothing about jewels except how to accept 
 and wear them, I think there must be a great deal of 
 money in these. Then, if we make but one house- 
 hold, I can sell my plate, the weight of which, as mere 
 silver, would bring thirty thousand francs. I remem- 
 ber when we brought it from Lima, the custom-house 
 officers weighed and appraised it. Solonet is right. 
 
 * 
 
 I '11 send to-morrow to Elie Magus. The Jew shall 
 estimate the value. of these things. Perhaps I can 
 avoid sinking any of my fortune in an annuity." 
 
 "What a beautiful pearl necklace! " said Natalie. 
 
 "He ought to give it to you, if he loves you," 
 replied her mother; "and I think he might have all 
 my other jewels reset and let you keep them. The 
 diamonds are a part of your property in the contract. 
 And now, good-night, my darling. After the fatigues 
 of this day we both need rest." 
 
 The woman of luxury, the Creole, the great lady, 
 incapable of analyzing the results of a contract which 
 was not yet in force, went to sleep in the joy of see- 
 ing her daughter married to a man who was easy to 
 manage, who would let them both be mistresses of 
 his home, and whose fortune, united to theirs, would 
 require no change in their way of living. Thus hav- 
 ing settled her account with her daughter, whose 
 patrimony was acknowledged in the contract, Madame 
 
 
 
 Evangelista could feel at her ease. 
 
 How foolish of me to worry as I did," she thought. 
 
 
 .. 
 
 But I wish the marriage were well over." 
 
 a 
 
92 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 So Madame ^Ivangelista, Paul, Natalie, and the 
 two notaries were equally satisfied with the first day's 
 result. The Te Deum was sung in both camps, — a 
 dangerous situation; for there comes a moment when 
 the vanquished side is aware of its mistake. To 
 Madame Evangelista's mind, her son-in-law was the 
 vanquished side. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 93 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE-CONTRACT — SECOND DAY. 
 
 The next day l^lie Magus (who happened at that 
 time to be in Bordeaux) obeyed Madame Evangelista's 
 summons, believing, from general rumor as to the 
 marriage of Comte Paul with Mademoiselle Natalie, 
 that it concerned a purchase of jewels for the bride. 
 The Jew was, therefore, astonished when he learned 
 that, on the contrary, he was sent for to estimate the 
 value of the mother-in-law's property. The instinct 
 of his race, as well as certain insidious questions, 
 made him aware that the value of the diamonds was 
 included in the marriage-contract. The stones were 
 not to be sold, and yet he was to estimate them as if 
 some private person were buying them from a dealer. 
 Jewellers alone know how to distinguish between the 
 diamonds of Asia and those of Brazil. The stones of 
 Golconda and Visapur are known by a whiteness and 
 glittering brilliancy which others have not, — the water 
 of the Brazilian diamonds having a yellow tinge which 
 reduces their selling value. Madame Evangelista's 
 necklace and ear-rings, being composed entirely of 
 Asiatic diamonds, were valued by Elie Magus at 
 two hundred and fifty thousand francs. As for the 
 Discrete*., he pronounced it one of the finest diamonds 
 
94 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 in the possession of private persons ; it was known to 
 the trade and valued at one hundred thousand francs. 
 On hearing this estimate, which proved to her the 
 lavishness of her husband, Madame Evangelista asked 
 the old Jew whether she should be able to obtain that 
 money immediately. 
 
 "Madame," replied the Jew, "if you wish to sell 
 I can give you only seventy-five thousand for the 
 brilliant, and one hundred and sixty thousand for 
 the necklace and earrings." 
 
 "Why such reduction? " 
 
 "Madame," replied Magus," the finer the diamond, 
 the longer we keep it unsold. The rarity of such 
 investments is one reason for the high value set upon 
 precious stones. As the merchant cannot lose the 
 interest of his money, this additional sum, joined to 
 the rise and fall to which such merchandise is subject, 
 explains the difference between the price of purchase 
 and the price of sale. By owning these diamonds 
 you have lost the interest on three hundred thousand 
 francs for twenty years. If you wear your jewels ten 
 times a year, it costs you three thousand francs each 
 evening to put them on. How many beautiful gowns 
 you could buy with that sum. Those who own dia- 
 monds are, therefore, very foolish; but, luckily for 
 us, women are never willing to understand the cal- 
 culation." 
 
 "I thank you for explaining it to me, and I shall 
 profit by it." 
 
 "Do you wish to sell? " asked Magus, eagerly. 
 
 "What are the other jewels worth? " 
 
 The Jew examined the gold of the settings, held the 
 
The Marriage Contract. 95 
 
 pearls to the light, scrutinized the rubies, the diadems, 
 clasps, bracelets, and chains, and said, in a mumbling 
 tone : — 
 
 U A good many Portuguese diamonds from Brazil 
 are among them. They are not worth more than a 
 hundred thousand to me. But," he added, "a dealer 
 would sell them to a customer for one hundred and 
 fifty thousand, at least." 
 
 "I shall keep them," said Madame flvangelista. 
 
 "You are wrong," replied Elie Magus. "With the 
 income from the sum they represent you could buy 
 just as fine diamonds in five years, and have the 
 capital to boot." 
 
 This singular conference became known, and cor- 
 roborated certain rumors excited by the discussion of 
 the contract. The servants of the house, overhearing 
 high voices, supposed the difficulties greater than they 
 really were. Their gossip with other valets spread the 
 information, which from the lower regions rose to the 
 ears of the masters. The attention of society, and of 
 the town in general, became so fixed on the marriage 
 of two persons equally rich and well-born, that every 
 one, great and small, busied themselves about the 
 matter, and in less than a week the strangest rumors 
 were bruited about. 
 
 "Madame ^Ivangelista sells her house; she must be 
 ruined. She offered her diamonds to Elie Magus. 
 Nothing is really settled between herself and the 
 Comte de Manerville. Is it probable that the mar- 
 riage will ever take place? " 
 
 To this question some answered yes, and others 
 said no. The two notaries, when questioned, denied 
 
96 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 these calumnies, and declared that the difficulties arose 
 only from the official delay in constituting the entail. 
 But when public opinion has taken a trend in one 
 direction it is very difficult to turn it back. Though 
 Paul went every day to Madame Evangelista's house, 
 and though the notaries denied these assertions con- 
 tinually, the whispered calumny went on. Young 
 girls, and their mothers and aunts, vexed at a mar- 
 riage they had dreamed of for themselves or for their 
 families, could not forgive the Spanish ladies for their 
 happiness, as authors cannot forgive each other for 
 their success. A few persons revenged themselves for 
 the twenty-years luxury and grandeur of the family 
 of Evangelista, which had lain heavily on their self- 
 love. A leading personage at the prefecture declared 
 that the notaries could have chosen no other language 
 and followed no other conduct in the case of a rupture. 
 The time actually required for the establishment of 
 the entail confirmed the suspicions of the Bordeaux 
 provincials. 
 
 "They will keep the ball going through the winter; 
 then, in the spring, they will go to some watering- 
 place, and we shall learn before the year is out that 
 the marriage is off.'* 
 
 "And, of course, we shall be given to understand," 
 said others, "for the sake of the honor of the two 
 families, that the difficulties did not come from either 
 side, but the chancellor refused to consent; you may 
 be sure it will be some quibble about that entail which 
 will cause the rupture." 
 
 "Madame Evangelista," some said, "lived in a 
 style that the mines of Valenciana could n't meet. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 97 
 
 When the time came to melt the bell, and pay the 
 daughter's patrimony, nothing would be found to pay 
 it with." 
 
 The occasion was excellent to add up the spend ings 
 of the handsome widow and prove, categorically, her 
 ruin. Rumors were so rife that bets were made for 
 and against the marriage. By the laws of worldly 
 jurisprudence this gossip was not allowed to reach the 
 ears of the parties concerned. No one was enemy or 
 friend enough to Paul or to Madame ^Ivangelista to 
 inform either of what was being said. Paul had some 
 business at Lanstrac, and used the occasion to make a 
 hunting-party for several of the young men of Bor- 
 deaux, — a sort of farewell, as it were, to his bachelor 
 life. This hunting party was accepted by society as 
 a signal confirmation of public suspicion. 
 
 When this event occurred, Madame de Gyas, who 
 had a daughter to marry, thought it high time to 
 sound the matter, and to condole, with joyful heart, 
 the blow received by the Evangelistas. Natalie and 
 her mother were somewhat surprised to see the 
 lengthened face of the marquise, and they asked at 
 once if anything distressing had happened to her. 
 
 "Can it be," she replied, "that you are ignorant of 
 the rumors that are circulating? Though I think them 
 false myself, I have come to learn the truth in order 
 to stop this gossip, at any rate among the circle of 
 my own friends. To be the dupes or the accomplices 
 of such an error is too false a position for true friends 
 to occupy." 
 
 "But what is it? what has happened?" asked 
 mother and daughter. 
 
98 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 Madame de Gyas thereupon allowed herself the hap- 
 piness of repeating all the current gossip, not sparing 
 her two friends a single stab. Natalie and Madame 
 Evangelista looked at each other and laughed, but 
 they fully understood the meaning of the tale and the 
 motives of their friend. The Spanish lady took her 
 revenge very much as Celimene took hers on Arsinoe. 
 
 4 'My dear, are you ignorant — you who know the 
 provinces so well > — can you be ignorant of what a 
 mother is capable when she has on her hands a daugh- 
 ter whom she cannot marry for want of clot and lovers, 
 want of beauty, want of mind, and, sometimes, want 
 of everything? Why, a mother in that position would 
 rob a diligence or commit a murder, or wait for a man 
 at the corner of a street — she would sacrifice herself 
 twenty times over, if she was a mother at all. Now, 
 as you and I both know, there are many such in that 
 situation in Bordeaux, and no doubt they attribute to 
 us their own thoughts and actions. Naturalists have 
 depicted the habits and customs of many ferocious 
 animals, but they have forgotten the mother and 
 daughter in quest of a husband. Such women are 
 hyenas, going about, as the Psalmist says, seeking 
 whom they may devour, and adding to the instinct of 
 the brute the intellect of man, and the genius of 
 woman. I can understand that those little spiders, 
 Mademoiselle de Belor, Mademoiselle de Trans, and 
 others, after working so long at their webs without 
 catching a fly, without so much as hearing a buzz, 
 should be furious; I can even forgive their spiteful 
 speeches. But that you, who can marry your daughter 
 when you please, you, who are rich and titled, you 
 
The Marriage Contract. 99 
 
 who have nothing of the provincial about you, whose 
 daughter is clever and possesses fine qualities, with 
 beauty and the power to choose — that you, so distin- 
 guished from the rest by your Parisian grace, should 
 have paid the least heed to this talk does really sur- 
 prise me. Am I bound to account to the public for 
 the marriage stipulations which our notaries think 
 necessary under the political circumstances of my 
 son-in-law's future life? Has the mania for public 
 discussion made its way into families? Ought I to 
 convoke in writing the fathers and mothers of the 
 province to come here and give their vote on the 
 clauses of our marriage contract? " 
 
 A torrent of epigram flowed over Bordeaux. 
 Madame Evangelista was about to leave the city, and 
 could safely scan her friends and enemies, caricature 
 them and lash them as she pleased, with nothing to 
 fear in return. Accordingly, she now gave vent to 
 her secret observations and her latent dislikes as she 
 sought for the reason why this or that person denied 
 the shining of the sun at mid-day. 
 
 "But, my dear," said the Marquise de Gyas, "this 
 stay of the count at Lanstrac, these parties given to 
 young men under such circumstances — " 
 
 "Ah! my dear," said the great lady, interrupting 
 the marquise, "do you suppose that we adopt the 
 pettiness of bourgeois customs? Is Count Paul held 
 in bonds like a man who might seek to get away? 
 Think you we ought to watch him with a squad of 
 gendarmes lest some provincial conspiracy should get 
 him away from us ? " 
 
 "Be assured, my dearest friend, that it gives me 
 the greatest pleasure to — " 
 
100 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 Here her words were interrupted by a footman 
 who entered the room to announce Paul. Like many 
 lovers, Paul thought it charming to ride twelve miles 
 to spend an hour with Natalie. He had left his 
 friends while hunting, and came in booted and 
 spurred, and whip in hand. 
 
 "Dear Paul," said Natalie, "you don't know what 
 an answer you are giving to madame." 
 
 When Paul heard of the gossip that was current in 
 Bordeaux, he laughed instead of being angry. 
 
 "These worthy people have found out, perhaps, that 
 there will be no wedding festivities, according to pro- 
 vincial usages, no marriage at mid-day in the church, 
 and they are furious. Well, my dear mother," he 
 added, kissing her nand, "let us pacify them with a 
 ball on the day when we sign the contract, just as the 
 government flings a fete to the people in the great 
 square of the Champs-Elysees, and we will give our 
 dear friends the dolorous pleasure of signing a mar- 
 riage-contract such as they have seldom heard of in 
 the provinces." 
 
 This little incident proved of great importance. 
 Madame Evangelista invited all Bordeaux to witness 
 the signature of the contract, and showed her intention 
 of displaying in this last fete a luxury which should 
 refute the foolish lies of the community. 
 
 The preparations for this event required over a 
 month, and it was called the fete of the camellias. 
 Immense quantities of that beautiful flower were 
 massed on the staircase, and in the antechamber and 
 supper-room. During this month the formalities for 
 constituting the entail were concluded in Paris; the 
 
The Marriage Contract. 101 
 
 estates adjoining Lanstrac v?eije purchased, tha banns 
 were published, and all doubts • fiualU dissipated. 
 Friends and enemies thouglic only of preparmg their 
 toilets for the coming fete. 
 
 The time occupied by these events obscured the 
 difficulties raised by the first discussion, and swept 
 into oblivion the words and arguments of that stormy 
 conference. Neither Paul nor his mother-in-law con- 
 tinued to think of them. Were they not, after all, as 
 Madame ^vangelista had said, the affair of the two 
 notaries ? 
 
 But — to whom has it never happened, when life is 
 in its fullest flow, to be suddenly challenged by the 
 voice of memory, raised, perhaps, too late, reminding 
 us of some important fact, some threatened danger? 
 On the morning of the day when the contract was to 
 be signed and the fete given, one of these flashes of 
 the soul illuminated the mind of Madame Evangelista 
 during the semi-somnolence of her waking hour. The 
 words that she herself had uttered at the moment when 
 Mathias acceded to Solonet's condition, Questa coda 
 non e di questo yatto, were cried aloud in her mind 
 by that voice of memory. In spite of her incapacity 
 for business, Madame ^vangelista's shrewdness told 
 her : — 
 
 "If so clever a notary as Mathias was pacified, it 
 must have been that he saw compensation at the cost 
 of some one." 
 
 That some one could not be Paul, as she had blindly 
 hoped. Could it be that her daughter's fortune was 
 to pay the costs of war? She resolved to demand 
 explanations on the tenor of the contract, not reflect- 
 
102 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 ing on the course she would have to take in case she 
 found, her mteresis seriously compromised. This clay 
 had so powerful an influence on Paul de Manerville's 
 conjugal life that it is necessary to explain certain of 
 the external circumstances which accompanied it. 
 
 Madame Evangelista had shrunk from no expense 
 for this dazzling fete. The court-yard was gravelled 
 and converted into a tent, and filled with shrubs, 
 although it was winter. The camellias, of which so 
 much had been said from Angouleme to Dax, were 
 banked on the staircase and in the vestibules. Wall 
 partitions had disappeared to enlarge the supper-room 
 and the ball-room where the dancing was to be. Bor- 
 deaux, a city famous for the luxury of colonial for- 
 tunes, was on a tiptoe of expectation for this scene of 
 fairyland. About eight o'clock, as the last discus- 
 sion of the contract was taking place within the house, 
 the inquisitive populace, anxious to see the ladies in 
 full dress getting out of their carriages, formed in two 
 hedges on either side of the porte-cochere. Thus the 
 sumptuous atmosphere of a fete acted upon all minds 
 at the moment when the contract was being signed, 
 illuminating colored lamps lighted up the shrubs, and 
 the wheels of the arriving guests echoed from the 
 court-yard. The two notaries had dined with the 
 bridal pair and their mother. Mathias's head-clerk, 
 whose business it was to receive the signatures of the 
 guests during the evening (taking due care that the 
 contract was not surreptitiously read by the signers), 
 was also present at the dinner. 
 
 No bridal toilet was ever comparable with that of 
 Natalie, whose beauty, decked with laces and satin. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 103 
 
 her hair coquettishly falling in a myriad of curls about 
 her throat, resembled that of a flower encased in its 
 foliage. Madame Evangelista, robed in a gown of 
 cherry velvet, a color judiciously chosen to heighten 
 the brilliancy of her skin and her black hair and eyes, 
 glowed with the beauty of a woman at forty, and 
 wore her pearl necklace, clasped with the Disereto, a 
 visible contradiction to the late calumnies. 
 
 To fully explain this scene, it is necessary to say 
 that Paul and Natalie sat together on a sofa beside 
 the fireplace and paid no attention to the reading of 
 the documents. Equally childish and equally happy, 
 regarding life as a cloudless sky, rich, young, and 
 loving, they chattered to each other in a low voice, 
 sinking into whispers. Arming his love with the 
 presence of legality, Paul took delight in kissing the 
 tips of Natalie's fingers, in lightly touching her snowy 
 shoulders and the waving curls of her hair, hiding 
 from the eyes of others these joys of illegal emancipa- 
 tion. Natalie played with a screen of peacock's feathers 
 given to her by Paul, — a gift which is to love, accord- 
 ing to superstitious belief in certain countries, as 
 dangerous an omen as the gift of scissors or other 
 cutting instruments, which recall, no doubt, the Parces 
 of antiquity. 
 
 Seated beside the two notaries, Madame Evange- 
 lista gave her closest attention to the reading of the 
 documents. After listening to the guardianship ac- 
 count, most ably written out by Solonet, in which 
 Natalie's share of the three million and more francs 
 left by Monsieur Evangelista was shown to be the 
 much-debated eleven hundred and fifty-six thousand, 
 
104 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 Madame Evangelista said to the heedless young 
 couple : — t 
 
 "Come, listen, listen, my children; this is your 
 marriage contract.'* 
 
 The clerk drank a glass of iced-water, Solonet and 
 Mathias blew their noses, Paul and Natalie looked at 
 the four personages before them, listened to the pre- 
 amble, and returned to their chatter. The statement 
 of the property brought by each party; the general 
 deed of gift in the event of death without issue; the 
 deed of gift of one-fourth in life-interest and one- 
 fourth in capital without interest, allowed by the 
 Code, whatever be the number of the children; the 
 constitution of a common fund for husband and wife ; 
 the settlement of the diamonds on the wife, the library 
 and horses on the husband, were duly read and passed 
 without observations. Then followed the constitution 
 of the entail. When all was read and nothing re- 
 mained but to sign the contract, Madame Evangelista 
 demanded to know what would be the ultimate effect 
 of the entail. 
 
 "An entail, madame," replied Solonet, "means an 
 inalienable right to the inheritance of certain property 
 belonging to both husband and wife, which is settled 
 from generation to generation on the eldest son of the 
 house, without, however, depriving him of his right to 
 share in the division of the rest of the property." 
 
 "What will be the effect of this on my daughter's 
 rights ? " 
 
 Maitre Mathias, incapable of disguising the truth, 
 replied : — 
 
 Madame, an entail being an appanage, or portion 
 
 a- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 105 
 
 of property set aside for this purpose from the for- 
 tunes of husband and wife, it follows that if the wife 
 dies first, leaving several children, one of them a son, 
 Monsieur de Manerville will owe those children three 
 hundred and sixty thousand francs only, from which 
 he will deduct his fourth in life-interest and his fourth 
 in capital. Thus his debt to those children will be 
 reduced to one hundred and sixty thousand francs, or 
 thereabouts, exclusive of his savings and profits from 
 the common fund constituted for husband and wife. 
 If, on the contrary, he dies first, leaving a male heir, 
 Madame de Manerville has a right to three hundred 
 and sixty thousand francs only, and to her deeds of 
 gift of such of her husband's property as is not in- 
 cluded in the entail, to the diamonds now settled upon 
 her, and to her profits and savings from the common 
 fund." 
 
 The effect of Maitre Mathias's astute and far-sighted 
 policy were now plainly seen. 
 
 "My daughter is ruined," said Madame ^Ivangdlista 
 in a low voice. 
 
 The old and the young notary both overheard the 
 words. 
 
 4 'Is it ruin," replied Mathias, speaking gently, "to 
 constitute for her family an indestructible fortune ? " 
 
 The younger notary, seeing the expression of his 
 client's face, thought it judicious in him to state the 
 disaster in plain terms. 
 
 "We tried to trick them out of three hundred thou- 
 sand francs," he whispered to the angry woman. "They 
 have actually laid hold of eight hundred thousand ; it 
 is a loss of four hundred thousand from our interests 
 
106 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 for the benefit of the children. You must now either 
 break the marriage off at once, or carry it through," 
 concluded Solonet. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the moment of silence 
 that followed. Maitre Mathias waited in triumph the 
 signature of the two persons who had expected to rob 
 his client. Natalie, not competent to understand that 
 she had lost half her fortune, and Paul, ignorant that 
 the house of Manerville had gained it, were laughing 
 and chatteriDg still Solonet and Madame ^vangelista 
 gazed at each other; the one endeavoring to conceal his 
 indifference, the other repressing the rush of a crowd 
 of bitter feelings. 
 
 After suffering in her own mind the struggles of 
 remorse, after blaming Paul as the cause of her dis- 
 honesty, Madame Evangelista had decided to employ 
 those shameful manoeuvres to cast on him the burden 
 of her own unfaithful guardianship, considering him 
 her victim. But now, in a moment, she perceived 
 that where she thought she triumphed she was about 
 to perish, and her victim was her own daughter. 
 Guilty without profit, she saw herself the dupe of an 
 honorable old man, whose respect she had doubtless 
 lost. Her secret conduct must have inspired the 
 stipulation of old Mathias; and Mathias must have 
 enlightened Paul. Horrible reflection! Even if he 
 had not yet done so, as soon as that contract was 
 signed the old wolf would surely warn his client of 
 the dangers he had run and had now escaped, were it 
 only to receive the praise of his sagacity. He would 
 put him on his guard against the wily woman who had 
 lowered herself to this conspiracy; he would destroy 
 
The Marriage Contract. 107 
 
 the empire she had conquered over her son-in-law! 
 Feeble natures, once warned, turn obstinate, and are 
 never won again. At the first discussion of the con- 
 tract she had reckoned on Paul's weakness, and on the 
 impossibility he would feel of breaking off a marriage 
 so far advanced. But now, she herself was far more 
 tightly bound. Three months earlier Paul had no real 
 obstacles to prevent the rupture; now, all Bordeaux 
 knew that the notaries had smoothed the difficulties; 
 the banns were published; the wedding was to take 
 place immediately; the friends of both families were 
 at that moment arriving for the fete, and to witness 
 the contract. How could she postpone the marriage at 
 this late hour? The cause of the rupture would surely 
 be made known; Maitre Mathias's stern honor was too 
 well known in Bordeaux; his word would be believed 
 in preference to hers. The scoffers would turn against 
 her and against her daughter. No, she could not 
 break it off; she must yield! 
 
 These reflections, so cruelly sound, fell upon Madame 
 ^vangelista's brain like a water-spout and split it. 
 Though she still maintained the dignity and reserve 
 of a diplomatist, her chin was shaken by that apoplec- 
 tic movement which showed the anger of Catherine 
 the Second on the famous day when, seated on her 
 throne and in presence of her court (very much in the 
 present circumstances of Madame Evangelista), she 
 was braved by the King of Sweden. Solonet observed 
 that play of the muscles, which revealed the birth 
 of a mortal hatred, a lurid storm to which there was 
 no lightning. At this moment Madame Evangelista 
 vowed to her son-in-law one of those unquenchable 
 
108 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 hatreds the seeds of which were left by the Moors in 
 the atmosphere of Spain. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, bending to the ear of her 
 notary, "you called that stipulation balderdash; it 
 seems to me that nothing could have been more 
 clear." 
 
 "Madame, allow me — " 
 
 "Monsieur," she continued, paying no heed to his 
 interruption, "if you did not perceive the effect of that 
 entail at the time of our first conference, it is very ex- 
 traordinary that it did not occur to you in the silence 
 of your study. This can hardly be incapacity." 
 
 The young notary drew his client into the next 
 room, saying to himself, as he did so: — 
 
 "I get a three-thousand-franc fee for the guardian- 
 ship account, three thousand for the contract, six 
 thousand on the sale of the house, fifteen thousand 
 in all — better not be angry." 
 
 He closed the door, cast on Madame Evangelists 
 the cool look of a business man, and said : — 
 
 "Madame, having, for your sake, passed — as I 
 did — the proper limits of legal craft, do you seriously 
 intend to reward my devotion by such language ? " 
 
 "But, monsieur — " 
 
 "Madame, I did not, it is true, calculate the effect 
 of the deeds of gift. But if you do not wish Comte 
 Paul for your son-in-law you are not obliged to accept 
 him. The contract is not signed. Give your fete, 
 and postpone the signing. It is far better to brave 
 Bordeaux than sacrifice yourself." 
 
 "How can I justify such a course to society, which 
 is already prejudiced against us by the slow conclusion 
 of the marriage? " 
 
The Marriage Contract. 109 
 
 "By some error committed in Paris; some missing 
 document not sent with the rest," replied Solonet. 
 
 "But those purchases of land near Lanstrac? " 
 
 " Monsieur de Manerville will be at no loss to find 
 another bride and another dowry." 
 
 "Yes, he '11 lose nothing; but we lose all, all! " 
 
 "You? " replied Solonet; "why, you can easily find 
 another count who will cost you less money, if a title 
 is the chief object of this marriage." 
 
 "No, no! we can't stake our honor in that way. I 
 am caught in a trap, monsieur. All Bordeaux will 
 ring with this to-morrow. Our solemn words are 
 pledged — " 
 
 "You wish the happiness of Mademoiselle Natalie." 
 
 "Above all things." 
 
 "To be happy in France," said the notary, "means 
 being mistress of the home. She can lead that fool 
 of a Manerville by the nose if she chooses ; he is so 
 dull he has actually seen nothing of all this. Even if 
 he now distrusts you, he will always trust his wife; 
 and his wife is you, is she not? The count's fate is 
 still within your power if you choose to play the cards 
 in your hand." 
 
 "If that were true, monsieur, I know not what I 
 would not do to show my gratitude," she said, in a 
 transport of feeling that colored her cheeks. 
 
 "Let us now return to the others, madame," said 
 Solonet. "Listen carefully to what I shall say; and 
 then — you shall think me incapable if you choose." 
 
 "M} T dear friend," said the young notary to Maitre 
 Mathias, "in spite of your great ability, you have not 
 foreseen either the case of Monsieur de Manerville 
 
110 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 dying without children, nor that in which he leaves 
 only female issue. In either of those cases the entail 
 would pass to the Manervilles, or, at any rate, give 
 rise to suits on their part. I think, therefore, it is 
 necessary to stipulate that in the first case the entailed 
 property shall pass under the general deed of gift 
 between husband and wife; and in the second case 
 that the entail be declared void. This agreement 
 concerns the wife's interest." 
 
 "Both clauses seem to me perfectly just," said 
 Maitre Mathias. "As to their ratification, Monsieur 
 le comte can, doubtless, come to an understanding 
 with the chancellor, if necessary." 
 
 Solonet took a pen and added this momentous clause 
 on the margin of the contract, Paul and Natalie paid 
 no attention to the matter; but Madame Evangelista 
 dropped her eyes while Maitre Mathias read the added 
 sentence aloud. 
 
 "We will now sign," said the mother. 
 
 The volume of voice which Madame Evangelista 
 repressed as she uttered those words betrayed her vio- 
 lent emotion. She was thinking to herself. "No, my 
 daughter shall not be ruined — but he ! My daughter 
 shall have the name, the title, and the fortune. If 
 she should some day discover that she does not love 
 him, that she loves another, irresistibly, Paul shall be 
 driven out of France! My daughter shall be free, and 
 happy, and rich." 
 
 If Maitre Mathias understood how to analyze busi- 
 ness interests, he knew little of the analysis of human 
 passions. He accepted Madame Evangelista' s words 
 as an honorable amende, instead of judging them for 
 
The Marriage Contract. Ill 
 
 what they were, a declaration of war. While Solonet 
 and his clerk superintended Natalie as she signed the 
 documents, — an operation which took time, — Mathias 
 took Paul aside and told him the meaning of the 
 stipulation by which he had saved him from ultimate 
 ruin. 
 
 "The whole affair is now en regie. I hold the docu- 
 ments. But the contract contains a receipt for the 
 diamonds ; you must ask for them. Business is busi- 
 ness. Diamonds are going up just now, but may go 
 down. The purchase of those new domains justifies 
 you in turning everything into money that you can. 
 Therefore, Monsieur le comte, have no false modesty 
 in this matter. The first pa3^ment is due after the 
 formalities are over. The sum is two hundred thou- 
 sand francs; put the diamonds into that. You have 
 the lien on this house, which will be sold at once, and 
 will pay the rest. If you have the courage to spend 
 only fifty thousand francs for the next three years, 
 you can save the two hundred thousand francs you are 
 now obliged to pay. If you plant vineyards on your 
 new estates, you can get an income of over twenty- 
 five thousand francs upon them. You may be said, 
 in short, to have made a good marriage." 
 
 Paul pressed the hand of his old friend very affec- 
 tionately, a gesture which did not escape Madame 
 Evangelista, who now came forward to offer him the 
 pen. Suspicion became certainty to her mind. She 
 was confident that Paul and Mathias had come to an 
 understanding about her. Rage and hatred sent the 
 blood surging through her veins to her heart. The 
 worst had come. 
 
112 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 After verifying that all the documents were duly 
 signed and the initials of the parties affixed to the 
 bottom of the leaves, Mattre Mathias looked from 
 Paul to his mother-in-law, and seeing that his client 
 did not intend to speak of the diamonds, he said : — 
 
 " I do not suppose there can be any doubt about the 
 transfer of the diamonds, as you are now one family." 
 
 "It would be more regular if Madame Evangelista 
 made them over now, as Monsieur de Manerville has 
 become responsible for the guardianship funds, and 
 we never know who may live or die," said Solonet, 
 who thought he saw in this circumstance fresh cause 
 of anger in the mother-in-law against the son-in-law. 
 
 "Ah! mother," cried Paul, "it would be insulting 
 to us all to do that, — Summum jus, sum-ma injuria, 
 monsieur," he said to Solonet. 
 
 "And I," said Madame Evangelista, led by the 
 hatred now surging in her heart to see a direct insult 
 to her in the indirect appeal of Maitre Mathias, "1 
 will tear that contract up if you do not take them." 
 
 She left the room in one of those furious passions 
 which long for the power to destroy everything, 
 and which the sense of impotence drives almost to 
 madness. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, take them, Paul," whispered 
 Natalie in his ear. "My mother is angry; I shall 
 know why to-night, and I will tell you. We must 
 pacify her." 
 
 Calmed by this first outburst, madame kept the 
 necklace and ear-rings which she was wearing, and 
 brought the other jewels, valued at one hundred and 
 fifty thousand francs by Elie Magus. Accustomed to 
 
The Marriage Contract. 113 
 
 the sight of family diamonds in all valuations of 
 inheritance, Maitre Mathias and Solonet examined 
 these jewels in their cases and exclaimed upon their 
 beauty. 
 
 " You will lose nothing, after all, upon the dot, 
 Monsieur le comte," said Solonet, bringing the color 
 to Paul's face. 
 
 "Yes," said Mathias, "these jewels will meet the 
 first payment on the purchase of the new estate." 
 
 "And the costs of the contract," added Solonet. 
 
 Hatred feeds, like love, on little things; the least 
 thing strengthens it; as one beloved can do no evil, 
 so the person hated can do no good. Madame Evan- 
 gelista assigned to hypocrisy the natural embarrass- 
 ment of Paul, who was unwilling to take the jewels, 
 and not knowing where to put the cases, longed to 
 fling them from the window. Madame Evangelista 
 spurred him with a glance which seemed to say, 
 
 Take your property from here." 
 Dear Natalie," said Paul, "put away these jewels; 
 they are yours; I give them to you." 
 
 Natalie locked them into the drawer of a console. 
 At this instant the noise of the carriages in the court- 
 yard and the murmur of voices in the reception-rooms 
 became so loud that Natalie and her mother were 
 forced to appear. The salons were filled in a few 
 moments, and the fete began. 
 
 "Profit by the honeymoon to sell those diamonds," 
 said the old notary to Paul as he went away. 
 
 While waiting for the dancing to begin, whispers 
 went round about the marriage, and doubts were 
 expressed as to the future of the promised couple. 
 
 8 
 
 
114 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 a 
 
 Is it finally arranged ? ' said one of the leading 
 personages of the town to Madame Evangelista. 
 
 "We had so many documents to read and sign that 
 I fear we are rather late," she replied; "but perhaps 
 we are excusable." 
 
 4 'As for me, I heard nothing," said Natalie, giving 
 her hand to her lover to open the ball. 
 
 " Both of those young persons are extravagant, and 
 the mother is not of a kind to check them," said a 
 dowager. 
 
 "But they have founded an entail, I am told, worth 
 fifty thousand francs a year." 
 
 "Pooh!" 
 
 "In that I see the hand of our worthy Monsieur 
 Mathias," said a magistrate. "If it is really true, he 
 has done it to save the future of the family." 
 
 "Natalie is too handsome not to be horribly coquet- 
 tish. After a couple of years of marriage," said one 
 young woman, "I wouldn't answer for Monsieur de 
 Manerville's happiness in his home." 
 
 "The Pink of Fashion will then need staking," said 
 Solonet, laughing. 
 
 4 'Don't you think Madame Evangelista looks 
 annoyed?" asked another. 
 
 44 But, my dear, I have just been told that all she is 
 able to keep is twenty- five thousand francs a year, and 
 what is that to her? " 
 
 4 'Penury!" 
 
 44 Yes, she has robbed herself for Natalie. Monsieur 
 de Manerville has been so exacting — " 
 
 "Extremely exacting," put in Maitre Solonet. "But 
 before long he will be peer of France. The Maulin- 
 
The Marriage Contract, 115 
 
 cours and the Vidame de Pamiers will use their influ- 
 ence. He belongs to the faubourg Saint-Germain." 
 
 "Oh! he is received there, and that is all," said a 
 lady, who had tried to obtain him as a son-in-law. 
 "Mademoiselle Evangelista, as the daughter of a mer- 
 chant, will certainly not open the doors of the chapter- 
 house of Cologne to him ! " 
 
 "She is grand-niece to the Duke of Casa-Reale." 
 
 "Through the female line! " 
 
 The topic was presently exhausted. The card- 
 players went to the tables, the young people danced, 
 the supper was served, and the ball was not over till 
 morning, when the first gleams of the coming day 
 whitened the windows. 
 
 Having said adieu to Paul, who was the last to go 
 away, Madame Evangelista went to her daughter's 
 room ; for her own had been taken by the architect to 
 enlarge the scene of the fete. Though Natalie and 
 her mother were overcome with sleep, they said a few 
 words to each other as soon as they were alone. 
 
 " Tell me, mother dear, what was the matter with you ?" 
 
 "My darling, I learned this evening to what lengths 
 a mother's tenderness can go. You know nothing of 
 business, and you are ignorant of the suspicions to 
 which my integrity has been exposed. I have trampled 
 my pride under foot, for your happiness and my 
 reputation were at stake." 
 
 "Are you talking of the diamonds? Poor boy, he- 
 wept; he did not want them; I have them." 
 
 "Sleep now, my child. We will talk business when 
 we wake — for," she added, sighing, "you and I have 
 business now; another person has come between us." 
 
116 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 4 'Ah! my dear mother, Paul will never be an 
 obstacle to our happiness, yours and mine," murmured 
 Natalie, as she went to sleep. 
 
 "Poor darling! she little knows that the man has 
 ruined her." 
 
 Madame ^vangelista's soul was seized at that 
 moment with the first idea of avarice, a vice to which 
 many become a prey as they grow aged. It came 
 into her mind to recover in her daughter's interest the 
 whole of the property left by her husband. She told 
 herself that her honor demanded it. Her devotion to 
 Natalie made her, in a moment, as shrewd and calcu- 
 lating as she had hitherto been careless and wasteful. 
 She resolved to turn her capital to account, after 
 investing a part of it in the Funds, which were then 
 selling at eighty francs. A passion often changes the 
 whole character in a moment; an indiscreet person 
 becomes a diplomatist, a coward is suddenly brave. 
 Hate made this prodigal woman a miser. Chance 
 and luck might serve the project of vengeance, still 
 undefined and confused, which she would now mature 
 in her mind. She fell asleep, muttering to herself, 
 " To-morrow ! ' By an unexplained phenomenon, the 
 effects of which are familiar to all thinkers, her mind, 
 during sleep, marshalled its ideas, enlightened them, 
 classed them, prepared a means by which she was to 
 rule Paul's life, and showed her a plan which she 
 began to carry out on that very to-morrow. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 117 
 
 V. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT — THIRD DAY. 
 
 Though the excitement of the fete had driven from 
 Paul's mind the anxious thoughts that now and then 
 assailed it, when he was alone with himself and in his 
 bed they returned to torment him. 
 
 "It seems to me," he said to himself, "that with- 
 out that good Mathias my mother-in-law would have 
 tricked me. And yet, is that believable? What 
 interest could lead her to deceive me? Are we not 
 to join fortunes and live together? Well, well, why 
 should I worry about it? In two days Natalie will 
 be my wife, our money relations are plainly defined, 
 nothing can come between us. Vogue la galere ! — 
 Nevertheless, I '11 be upon my guard. Suppose 
 Mathias was right? Well, if he was, I 'm not obliged 
 to marry my mother-in-law." 
 
 In this second battle of the contract Paul's future 
 had completely changed in aspect, though he was not 
 aware of it. Of the two persons whom he was marry- 
 ing, one, the cleverest, was now his mortal enemy, and 
 meditated already withdrawing her interests from the 
 common fund. Incapable of observing the difference 
 that a Creole nature placed between his mother-in-law 
 and other women, Paul was far from suspecting her 
 craftiness. The Creole nature is apart from all others ; 
 
118 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 it derives from Europe by its intellect, from the 
 tropics by the illogical violence of its passions, from 
 the East by the apathetic indifference with which it 
 does, or suffers, either good or evil, equally, — a grace- 
 ful nature withal, but dangerous, as a child is danger- 
 ous if not watched. Like a child, the Creole woman 
 must have her way immediately; like a child, she 
 would burn a house to boil an egg. In her soft and 
 easy life she takes no care upon her mind; but when 
 impassioned, she thinks of all things. She has some- 
 thing of the perfidy of the negroes by whom she has 
 been surrounded from her cradle, but she is also as 
 naive and even, at times, as artless as they. Like 
 them and like the children, she wishes doggedly for 
 one thing with a growing intensity of desire, and will 
 brood upon that "idea until she hatches it. A strange 
 assemblage of virtues and defects ! which her Spanish 
 nature had strengthened in Madame Evangelista, and 
 over which her French experience had cast the glaze 
 of its politeness. 
 
 This character, slumbering in married happiness 
 for sixteen years, occupied since then with the trivial- 
 ities of social life, this nature to which a first hatred 
 had revealed its strength, awoke now like a conflagra- 
 tion; at the moment of the woman's life when she was 
 losing the dearest object of her affections and needed 
 another element for the energy that possessed her, this 
 flame burst forth. Natalie could be but three days 
 more beneath her influence! Madame Evangelista, 
 vanquished at other points, had one clear day before 
 her, the last of those that a daughter spends beside 
 her mother. A few words, and the Creole nature could 
 
The Marriage Contract. 119 
 
 influence the lives of the two beings about to walk 
 together through the brambled paths and the dusty 
 high-roads of Parisian society, for Natalie believed in 
 her mother blindly. What far-reaching power would 
 the counsel of that Creole nature have on a mind so 
 subservient! The whole future of these lives might be 
 determined by one single speech. No code, no human 
 institution can prevent the crime that kills by words. 
 There lies the weakness of social law ; in that is the 
 difference between the morals of the great world and 
 the morals of the people: one is frank, the other 
 hypocritical; one employs the knife, the other the 
 venom of ideas and lauguage; to one death, to the 
 other impunity. 
 
 The next morning, about mid-day, Madame Evan- 
 gelista was half seated, half lying on the edge of 
 her daughter's bed. During that waking hour they 
 caressed and played together in happy memory of 
 their loving life; a life in which no discord had ever 
 troubled either the harmony of their feelings, the 
 agreement of their ideas, or the mutual choice and 
 enjoyment of their pleasures. 
 
 "Poor little darling!" said the mother, shedding 
 true tears, "how can I help being sorrowful when I 
 think that after I have fulfilled your every wish during 
 your whole life you will belong, to-morrow night, to a 
 man you must obey? " 
 
 "Oh, my dear mother, as for obeying! — "and 
 Natalie made a little motion of her head which ex- 
 pressed a graceful rebellion. "You are joking," she 
 continued. "My father always gratified your caprices ; 
 and why not? he loved you. And I am loved, too." 
 
120 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 a- 
 
 Yes, Paul has a certain love for you. But if a 
 married woman is not careful nothing more rapidly 
 evaporates than conjugal love. The influence a wife 
 ought to have over her husband depends entirely on 
 how she begins with him. You need the best advice." 
 
 "But you will be with us." 
 
 "Possibly, dear child. Last night, while the ball 
 was going on, I reflected on the dangers of our being 
 together. If my presence were to do you harm, if the 
 little acts by which you ought slowly, but surely, to 
 establish your authority as a wife should be attributed 
 to my influence, your home would become a hell. At 
 the first frown I saw upon your husband's brow I, 
 proud as I am, should instantly leave his house. If 
 I were driven to leave it, better, I think, not to enter 
 it. I should never forgive your husband if he caused 
 trouble between us. Whereas, when you have once 
 become the mistress, when your husband is to you 
 what your father was to me, that danger is no longer 
 to be feared. Though this wise policy will cost your 
 young and tender heart a pang, your happiness de- 
 mands that you become the absolute sovereign of your 
 home." 
 
 " Then why, mamma, did you say just now I must 
 obey him." 
 
 "My dear little daughter, in order that a wife may 
 rule, she must always seem to do what her husband 
 wishes. If you were not told this you might by some 
 impulsive opposition destroy your future. Paul is a 
 weak young man; he might allow a friend to rule 
 him; he might even fall under the dominion of some 
 woman who would make you feel her influence. Pre- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 121 
 
 vent such disasters by making yourself from the very 
 start his ruler. Is it not better that he be governed 
 by you than by others ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly," said Natalie. "I should think 
 only of his happiness." 
 
 " And it is my privilege, darling, to think only of 
 yours, and to wish not to leave you at so crucial a 
 moment without a compass in the midst of the reefs 
 through which you must steer." 
 
 "But, dearest mother, are we not strong enough, 
 you and I, to stay together beside him, without hav- 
 ing to fear those frowns you seem to dread. Paul 
 loves you, mamma." 
 
 "Oh! oh! He fears me far more than be loves me. 
 Observe him carefully to-day when I tell him that I 
 shall let you go to Paris without me, and you will see 
 on his face, no matter what pains he takes to conceal 
 it, his inward joy." 
 
 "Why should he feel so?" 
 
 "Why? Dear child! I am like Saint-Jean Bouche- 
 d'Or. I will tell that to himself, and before you." 
 
 "But suppose I marry on condition that you do not 
 leave me?" urged Natalie. 
 
 "Our separation is necessary," replied her mother. 
 "Several considerations have greatly changed my 
 future. I am now poor. You will lead a brilliant 
 life in Paris, and I could not live with you suitably 
 without spending the little that remains to me. 
 Whereas, if I go to Lanstrac, I can take care of your 
 property there and restore my fortune by economy." 
 
 "You, mamma! you practise economy! " cried 
 Natalie, laughing. "Don't begin to be a grand- 
 
122 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 mother yet. What! do you mean to leave me for 
 such reasons as those? Dear mother, Paul may seem 
 to you a trifle stupid, but he is not one atom selfish 
 or grasping." 
 
 u Ah!" replied Madame ^Ivangelista, in a tone of 
 voice big with suggestions which made the girl's heart 
 throb, "those discussions about the contract have 
 made me distrustful. I have my doubts about him — 
 But don't be troubled, dear child," she added, taking 
 her daughter by the neck and kissing her. "I will 
 not leave you long alone. Whenever my return can 
 take place without making difficulty between you, 
 whenever Paul can rightly judge me, we will begin 
 once more our happy little life, our evening con- 
 fidences — " 
 
 "Oh! mother, how can you think of living without 
 your Natalie? " 
 
 "Because, dear angel, I shall live for her. My 
 mother's heart will be satisfied in the thought that I 
 contribute, as I ought, to your future happiness." 
 
 "But my dear, adorable mother, must I be alone 
 with Paul, here, now, all at once ? What will become 
 of me? what will happen? what must I do? what must 
 I not do ? " 
 
 "Poor child! do you think that I would utterly 
 abandon you to your first battle? We will write to 
 each other three times a week like lovers. We shall 
 thus be close to each other's heart incessantly. Noth- 
 ing can happen to you that I shall not know, and I 
 can save you from all misfortune. Besides, it would 
 be too ridiculous if I never went to see you ; it would 
 seem to show dislike or disrespect to your husband ; 
 
The Marriage Contract. 123 
 
 I will always spend a month or two every year with 
 you in Paris." 
 
 "Alone, already alone, and with him! " cried Natalie 
 in terror, interrupting her mother. 
 
 "But you wish to be his wife? " 
 
 "Yes, I wish it. But tell me how I should behave, 
 — you, who did what you pleased with my father. You 
 know the way; I '11 obey you blindly." 
 
 Madame Evangelista kissed her daughter's fore- 
 head. She had willed and awaited this request. 
 
 "Child, my counsels must adapt themselves to cir- 
 cumstances. All men are not alike. The lion and 
 tne frog are not more unlike than one man compared 
 with another, — morally, I mean. Do I know to-day 
 what will happen to you to-morrow ? No ; therefore I 
 can only give you general advice upon the whole tenor 
 of your conduct." 
 
 "Dear mother, tell me, quick, all that you know 
 yourself." 
 
 "In the first place, my dear child, the cause of the 
 failure of married women who desire to keep their 
 husbands' hearts — and " she said, making a paren- 
 thesis, "to keep their hearts and rule them is one and 
 the same thing — Well, the principle cause of con- 
 jugal disunion is to be found in perpetual inter- 
 course, which never existed in the olden time, but 
 which has been introduced into this country of late 
 years with the mania for family. Since the Revolu- 
 tion the manners and customs of the bourgeoisie have 
 invaded the homes of aristocracy. This misfortune 
 is due to one of their writers, Rousseau, an infamous 
 heretic, whose ideas were all anti- social and who pre- 
 
124 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 tended, I don't know how, to justify the most senseless 
 things. He declared that all women had the same 
 rights and the same faculties; that living in a state 
 of society we ought, nevertheless, to obey nature — as 
 if the wife of a Spanish grandee, as if you or I had 
 anything in common with the women of the people ! 
 Since then, well-bred women have suckled their chil- 
 dren, have educated their daughters, and stayed in 
 their own homes. Life has become so involved that 
 happiness is almost impossible, — for a perfect har- 
 mony between natures such as that which has made 
 you and me live as two friends is an exception. Per- 
 petual contact is as dangerous for parents and children 
 as it is for husband and wife. There are few souls in 
 which love survives this fatal omnipresence. There- 
 fore, I say, erect between yourself and Paul the bar- 
 riers of society; go to balls and operas; go out in 
 the morning, dine out in the evenings, pay visits con- 
 stantly, and grant but little of your time to your 
 husband. By this means you will always keep your 
 value to him. When two beings bound together for 
 life have nothing to live upon but sentiment, its 
 resources are soon exhausted, indifference, satiety, 
 and disgust succeed. When sentiment has withered 
 what will become of you ? Remember, affection once 
 extinguished can lead to nothing but indifference or 
 contempt. Be ever young and ever new to him. He 
 may weary you, — that often happens, — but you must 
 never weary him. The faculty of being bored with- 
 out showing it is a condition of all species of power. 
 You cannot diversify happiness by the cares of prop- 
 erty or the occupations of a family. If you do not 
 
The Marriage Contract. 125 
 
 make your husband share your social interests, if you 
 do not keep him amused you will fall into a dismal 
 apathy. Then begins the spleen of love. But a man 
 will always love the woman who amuses him and keeps 
 him happy. To give happiness and to receive it are 
 two lines of feminine conduct which are separated by 
 a gulf." 
 
 "Dear mother, I am listening to you, but I don't 
 understand one word you say." 
 
 "If you love Paul to the extent of doing all he asks 
 of you, if you make your happiness depend on him, 
 all is over with your future life; you will never be 
 mistress of your home, and the best precepts in the 
 world will do you no good." 
 
 "That is plainer; but I see the rule without know- 
 ing how to apply it," said Natalie, laughing. "I have 
 the theory; the practice will come." 
 
 "My poor Ninie," replied the mother, who dropped 
 an honest tear at the thought of her daughter's mar- 
 riage, things will happen to teach it to you — And," 
 she continued, after a pause, during which the mother 
 and daughter held each other closely embraced in the 
 truest sympathy, "remember this, my Natalie: we all 
 have our destiny as women, just as men have their 
 vocation as men. A woman is born to be a woman 
 of the world and a charming hostess, as a man is born 
 to be a general or a poet. Your vocation is to please. 
 Your education has formed you for society. In these 
 days women should be educated for the salon as they 
 once were for the gynoecium. You were not born to 
 be the mother of a family or the steward of a house- 
 hold. If you have children, I hope they wili not come 
 
126 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 to spoil your figure on the morrow of your marriage ; 
 notbiug is so bourgeois as to have a child at once. If 
 you have them two or three years after your marriage, 
 well and good ; governesses and tutors will bring them 
 up. You are to be the lady, the great lady, who rep- 
 resents the luxury and the pleasure of the house. But 
 remember one thing — let your superiority be visible 
 in those things only which flatter a man's self-love; 
 hide the superiority you must also acquire over him 
 in great things. 
 
 "But } t ou frighten me, mamma," cried Natalie. 
 "How can I remember all these precepts? How shall 
 1 ever manage, I, such a child, and so heedless, to 
 reflect and calculate before I act?" 
 
 "But, my dear little girl, I am telling you to-day 
 that which you must surely learn later, buying your 
 experience by fatal faults and errors of conduct which 
 will cause you bitter regrets and embarrass your whole 
 life." 
 
 u But how must I begin?" asked Natalie, artlessly. 
 
 "Instinct will guide you," replied her mother. "At 
 this moment Paul desires you more than he loves you ; 
 for love born of desires is a hope ; the love that suc- 
 ceeds their satisfaction is the reality. There, my 
 dear, is the question; there lies your power. What 
 woman is not loved before marriage? Be so on the 
 morrow and you will remain so always. Paul is a 
 weak man who is easily trained to habit. If he yields 
 to you once he will yield always. A woman ardently 
 desired can ask all things ; do not commit the folly of 
 many women who do not see the importance of the 
 first hours of their sway, — that of wasting your power 
 
The Marriage Contract. 127 
 
 on trifles, on silly things with no result. Use the 
 empire your husband's first emotions give you to 
 accustom him to obedience. And when you make him 
 yield, choose that it be on some unreasonable point, 
 so as to test the measure of your power by the measure 
 of his concession. What victory would there be in 
 making him agree to a reasonable thing? Would that 
 be obeying you? We must always, as the Castilian 
 proverb says, take the bull by the horns ; when a bull 
 has once seen the inutility of his defence and of his 
 strength he is beaten. When your husband does a 
 foolish thing for you, you can govern him." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Because, my child, marriage lasts a lifetime, and 
 a husband is not a man like other men. Therefore, 
 never commit the folly of giving yourself into his 
 power in anything. Keep up a constant reserve in 
 your speech and in your actions. You may even be 
 cold to him without danger, for you can modify cold- 
 ness at will. Besides, nothing is more easy to maintain 
 than our dignity. The words, "It is not becoming 
 in your wife to do thus and so," is a great talisman. 
 The life of a woman lies in the words, "I will not." 
 They are the final argument. Feminine power is in 
 them, and therefore they should only be used on real 
 occasions. But they constitute a means of governing 
 far beyond that of argument or discussion. I, my dear 
 child, reigned over your father by his faith in me. If 
 your husband believes in you, you can do all things with 
 him. To inspire that belief you must make him think 
 that you understand him. Do not suppose that that 
 is an easy thing to do. A woman can always make a 
 
128 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 man think that he is loved, but to make him admit 
 that he is understood is far more difficult. I am 
 bound to tell you all now, my child, for to-morrow 
 life with its complications, life with two wills which 
 must be made- one, begins for you. Bear in mind, at 
 all moments, that difficulty. The only means of har- 
 monizing your two wills is to arrange from the first 
 that there shall be but one; and that will must be 
 yours. Many persons declare that a wife creates her 
 own unhappiness by changing sides in this way; but, 
 my dear, she can only become the mistress by controlling 
 events instead of bearing them; and that advantage 
 compensates for any difficulty." 
 
 Natalie kissed her mother's hands with tears of 
 gratitude. Like all women in whom mental emotion 
 is never warmed by physical emotion, she suddenly 
 comprehended the bearings of this feminine policy; 
 but, like a spoiled child that never admits the force 
 of reason and returns obstinately to its one desire, she 
 came back to the charge with one of those personal 
 arguments which the logic of a child suggests : — 
 
 "Dear mamma," she said, "it is only a few days 
 since you were talking of Paul's advancement, and 
 saying that you alone could promote it; why, then, do 
 you suddenly turn round and abandon us to our- 
 selves? " 
 
 "I did not then know the extent of my obligations 
 nor the amount of my debts," replied the mother, who 
 would not suffer her real motive to be seen. "Besides, 
 a year or two hence I can take up that matter again. 
 Come, let us dress; Paul will be here soon. Be as 
 sweet and caressing as you were, — you know? — that 
 
The Marriage Contract. 129 
 
 night when we first discussed this fatal contract; for 
 to-day we must save the last fragments of our for- 
 tune, and I must win for you a thing to which I am 
 superstitiously attached." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "The Discrete." 
 
 Paul arrived about four o'clock. Though he en- 
 deavored to meet his mother-in-law with a gracious 
 look upon his face, Madame Evangelista saw traces 
 of the clouds which the counsels of the night and the 
 reflections of the morning had brought there. 
 
 "Mathias has told him! " she thought, resolving to 
 defeat the old notary's action. "My dear son," she 
 said, "you left your diamonds in the drawer of the 
 console, and I frankly confess that I would rather not 
 see a°;am the things that threatened to bring; a cloud 
 between us. Besides, as Monsieur Mathias said, they 
 ought to be sold at once to meet the first payment on 
 the estates you have purchased." 
 
 "They are not mine," he said. "I have given them 
 to Natalie, and when you see them upon her you will 
 forget the pain they caused you." 
 
 Madame Evangelista took his hand and pressed it 
 cordially, with a tear of emotion. 
 
 "Listen to me, my dear children," she said, looking 
 from Paul to Natalie; "since you really feel thus, I 
 have a proposition to make to both of you. I find 
 myself obliged to sell my pearl necklace and my ear- 
 rings. Yes, Paul, it is necessary ; I do not choose to 
 put a penny of my fortune into an annuity; I know 
 what I owe to you. Well, I admit a weakness; to 
 sell the Discreto seems to me a disaster. To sell a 
 
 9 
 
130 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 diamond which bears the name of Philip the Second 
 and once adorned his royal hand, an historic stone 
 which the Duke of Alba touched for ten years in the 
 hilt of his sword — no, no, I cannot! Elie Magus 
 estimates my necklace and ear-rings at a hundred and 
 some odd thousand francs without the clasps. Will 
 you exchange the other jewels I made over to you for 
 these? you will gain by the transaction, but what of 
 that? I am not selfish. Instead of those mere fancy 
 jewels, Paul, your wife will have fine diamonds which 
 she can really enjoy. Is n't it better that I should sell 
 those ornaments which will surely go out of fashion, 
 and that you should keep in the family these priceless 
 stones?" 
 
 "But, my dear mother, consider yourself," said 
 Paul. 
 
 "I," replied Madame Evangelista, "I want such 
 things no longer. Yes, Paul, I am going to be your 
 bailiff at Lanstrac. It would be folly in me to go 
 to Paris at the moment when I ought to be here to 
 liquidate my property and settle my affairs. I shall 
 grow miserly for my grandchildren." 
 
 "Dear mother," said Paul, much moved, "ought I 
 to accept this exchange without paying you the 
 difference? " 
 
 i 
 
 "Good heavens! are you not, both of you, my 
 dearest interests? Do you suppose I shall not find 
 happiness in thinking, as I sit in my chimney-corner, 
 'Natalie is dazzling to-night at the Duchesse de 
 Berry's ball'? When she sees my diamond at her 
 throat and my ear-rings in her ears she will have one 
 of those little enjoyments of vanity which contribute 
 
The Marriage Contract. 131 
 
 so much to a woman's happiness and make her so gay 
 and fascinating. Nothing saddens a woman more 
 than to have her vanity repressed ; I have never seen 
 an ill-dressed woman who was amiable or good- 
 humored." 
 
 "Heavens! what was Mathias thinking about?" 
 thought Paul. "Well, then, mamma," he said, in a 
 low voice, "I accept." 
 
 "But I am confounded! " said Natalie. 
 
 At this moment Solonet arrived to announce the 
 good news that he had found among the speculators 
 of Bordeaux two contractors who were much attracted 
 by the house, the gardens of which could be covered 
 with dwellings. 
 
 "They offer two hundred and fifty thousand francs," 
 he said; "but if you consent to the sale, I can make 
 them give you three hundred thousand. There are 
 three acres of land in the garden." 
 
 "My husband paid two hundred thousand for the 
 place, therefore I consent," she replied. "But you 
 must reserve the furniture and the mirrors." 
 
 "Ah!" said Solonet, "you are beginning to under- 
 stand business." 
 
 "Alas! I must," she said, sighing. 
 
 "I am told that a great many persons are coming 
 to your midnight service," said Solonet, perceiving 
 that his presence was inopportune, and preparing 
 to go. 
 
 Madame Evangelista accompanied him to the door 
 of the last salon, and there she said, in a low voice : — 
 
 "I now have personal property to the amount of two 
 hundred and fifty thousand francs; if I can get two 
 
132 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 hundred thousand for my share on the sale of the 
 house it will make a handsome capital, which I shall 
 want to invest to the very best advantage. I count on 
 you for that. I shall probably live at Lanstrac." 
 
 The young notary kissed his client's hand with a 
 gesture of gratitude; for the widow's tone of voice 
 made Solonet fancy that this alliance, really made 
 from self-interest only, might extend a little farther. 
 
 "You can count on me," he replied. "I can find 
 you investments in merchandise on which you will 
 risk nothing and make very considerable profits." 
 
 " Adieu until to-morrow," she said; "you are to be 
 our witness, you know, with Monsieur le Marquis de 
 Gyas." 
 
 "My dear mother," said Paul, when she returned to 
 them, "why do you refuse to come to Paris? Natalie 
 is provoked with me, as if I were the cause of your 
 decision." 
 
 "I have thought it all over, my children, and I am 
 sure that I should hamper you. You would feel 
 obliged to make me a third in all you did, and young 
 people have ideas of their own which I might, unin- 
 tentionally, thwart. Go to Paris. I do not wish to 
 exercise over the Comtesse de Manerville the gentle 
 authority I have held over Natalie. I desire to leave 
 her wholly to you. Don't you see, Paul, that there 
 are habits and ways between us which must be broken 
 up? My influence ought to yield to yours. I want 
 you to love me, and to believe that I have your 
 interests more at heart than you think for. Young 
 husbands are, sooner or later, jealous of the love of a 
 wife for her mother. Perhaps they are right. When 
 
The Marriage Contract. 183 
 
 you are thoroughly united, when love has blended your 
 two souls into one, then, my dear son, you will not 
 fear an opposing influence if 1 live in your house. I 
 know the world, and men, and things ; I have seen the 
 peace of many a home destroyed by the blind love of 
 mothers who made themselves in the end as intolerable 
 to their daughters as to their sons-in-law. The affec- 
 tion of old people is often exacting and querulous. 
 Perhaps I could not efface myself as I should. I have 
 the weakness to think myself still handsome ; I have 
 flatterers who declare that I am still agreeable; I 
 should have, I fear, certain pretensions which might 
 interfere with your lives. Let me, therefore, make 
 one more sacrifice for your happiness. I have given 
 you my fortune, and now I desire to resign to you my 
 last vanities as a woman. Your notary Mathias is 
 getting old. He cannot look after your estates as I 
 will. I will be your bailiff; I will create for myself 
 those natural occupations which are the pleasures of 
 old age. Later, if necessary, I will come to you in 
 Paris, and second you in your projects of ambition. 
 Come, Paul, be frank; my proposal suits you, does 
 it not?" 
 
 Paul would not admit it, but he was at heart 
 delighted to get his liberty. The suspicions which 
 Mathias had put into his mind respecting his mother- 
 in-law were, however, dissipated by this conversation, 
 which Madame Evangelista carried on still longer in 
 the same tone. 
 
 "My mother was right," thought Natalie, who had 
 watched Paul's countenance. "He is glad to know 
 that I am separated from her — why?" 
 
134 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 That "why? " was the first note of a rising distrust; 
 did it prove the power of those maternal instructions? 
 
 There are certain characters which on the faith of a 
 single proof believe in friendship. To persons thus 
 constituted the north wind drives away the clouds as 
 rapidly as the south wind brings them ; they stop at 
 effects and never hark back to causes. Paul had one 
 of those essentially confiding natures, without ill- 
 feelings, but also without foresight. His weakness 
 proceeded far more from his kindness, his belief in 
 goodness, than from actual debility of soul. 
 
 Natalie was sad and thoughtful, for she knew not 
 what to do without her mother. Paul, with that self- 
 confident conceit which comes of love, smiled to him- 
 self at her sadness, thinking how soon the pleasures 
 of marriage and the excitements of Paris would drive 
 it away. Madame Evangelista saw this confidence 
 with much satisfaction. She had already taken two 
 great steps. Her daughter possessed the diamonds 
 which had cost Paul two hundred thousand francs; 
 and she had gained her point of leaving these two 
 children to themselves with no other guide than their 
 illogical love. Her revenge was thus preparing, un- 
 known to her daughter, who would, sooner or later, 
 become its accomplice. Did Natalie love Paul? That 
 was a question still undecided, the answer to which 
 might modify her projects, for she loved her daughter 
 too sincerely not to respect her happiness. Paul's 
 future, therefore, still depended on himself. If he 
 could make his wife love him, he was saved. 
 
 The next day, at midnight, after an evening spent 
 together, with the addition of the four witnesses, to 
 
The Marriage Contract. 135 
 
 whom Madame Evangelista gave the formal dinner 
 which follows the legal marriage, the bridal pair, 
 accompanied by their friends, heard mass by torch- 
 light, in presence of a crowd of inquisitive persons. 
 A marriage celebrated at night always suggests to the 
 mind an unpleasant omen. Light is the symbol of 
 life and pleasure, the forecasts of which are lacking 
 to a midnight wedding. Ask the intrepid soul why it 
 shivers; why the chill of those black arches ener- 
 vates it; why the sound of steps startles it; why it 
 notices the cry of bats and the hoot of owls. Though 
 there is absolutely no reason to tremble, all present do 
 tremble, and the darkness, emblem of death, saddens 
 them. Natalie, parted from her mother, wept. The 
 girl was now a prey to those doubts which grasp the 
 heart as it enters a new career in which, despite all 
 assurances of happiness, a thousand pitfalls await the 
 steps of a young wife. She was cold and wanted a 
 mantle. The air and manner of Madame Evangelista 
 and that of the bridal pair excited some comment 
 among the elegant crowd which surrounded the altar. 
 
 "Solonet tells me that the bride and bridegroom 
 leave for Paris to-morrow morning, all alone." 
 
 "Madame Evangelista was to live with them, I 
 thought." 
 
 "Count Paul has got rid of her already." 
 
 "What a mistake!" said the Marquise de Gyas. 
 "To shut the door on the mother of his wife is to open 
 it to a lover. Does n't he know what a mother is? " 
 
 "He has been very hard on Madame Evangelista; 
 the poor woman has had to sell her house and her 
 diamonds, and is going to live at Lanstrac." 
 
136 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 "Natalie looks very sad." 
 
 "Would you like to be made to take a journey the 
 day after your marriage ? " 
 
 "It is very awkward." 
 
 "I am glad I came here to-night," said a lady. "I 
 am now convinced of the necessity of the pomps of 
 marriage and of wedding fetes; a scene like this is 
 very bare and sad. If I may say what I think," she 
 added, in a whisper to her neighbor, "this marriage 
 seems to me indecent." 
 
 Madame Evangelista took Natalie in her carriage 
 and accompanied her, alone, to Paul's house. 
 
 "Well, mother, it is done! " 
 
 "Remember, my dear child, my last advice, and 
 you will be a happy woman. Be his wife, and not his 
 mistress." 
 
 When Natalie had retired, the mother played the 
 little comedy of flinging herself with tears into the 
 arms of her son-in-law. It was the only provincial 
 thing that Madame Evangelista allowed herself, but 
 she had her reasons for it. Amid tears and speeches, 
 apparently half wild and despairing, she obtained of 
 Paul those concessions which all husbands make. 
 
 The next day she put the married pair into their 
 carriage, and accompanied them to the ferry, by which 
 the road to Paris crosses the Gironde. With a look 
 and a word Natalie enabled her mother to see that if 
 Paul had won the trick in the game of the contract, 
 her revenge was beginning. Natalie was already 
 reducing her husband to perfect obedience. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 137 
 
 VI. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Five years later, on an afternoon in the month of 
 November, Comte Paul de Manerville, wrapped in a 
 cloak, was entering, with a bowed head and a mys- 
 terious manner, the house of his old friend Monsieur 
 Mathias at Bordeaux. 
 
 Too old to continue in business, the worthy notary 
 had sold his practice and was ending his days peace- 
 fully in a quiet house to which he had retired. An 
 urgent affair had obliged him to be absent at the 
 moment of his guest's arrival, but his housekeeper, 
 warned of Paul's coming, took him to the room of 
 the late Madame Mathias, who had been dead a year. 
 Fatigued by a rapid journey, Paul slept till evening. 
 When the old man reached home he went up to his 
 client's room, and watched him sleeping, as a mother 
 watches her child. Josette, the old housekeeper, fol- 
 lowed her master and stood before the bed, her hands 
 on her hips. 
 
 "It is a year to-day, Josette, since I received my 
 dear wife's last sigh; I little knew then that I should 
 stand here again to see the count half dead." 
 
 "Poor man! he moans in his sleep," said Josette. 
 
 "Sac a papier ! " cried the old notary, an innocent 
 oath which was a sign with him of the despair on a 
 
138 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 man of business before insurmountable difficulties. 
 "At any rate," he thought, "I have saved the title 
 to the Lanstrac estate for him, and that of Ausac, 
 Saint-Froult, and his house, though the usufruct has 
 gone." Mathias counted on his fingers. "Five years! 
 Just live years this month, since his old aunt, now 
 dead, that excellent Madame de Maulincour, asked for 
 the hand of that little crocodile of a woman, who has 
 finally ruined him — as I expected." 
 
 And the gouty old gentleman, leaning on his cane, 
 went to walk in the little garden till his guest should 
 awake. At nine o'clock supper was served, for 
 Mathias took supper. The old man was not a little 
 astonished, when Paul joined him, to see that his old 
 client's brow was calm and his face serene, though 
 noticeably changed. If at the age of thirty-three the 
 Comte de Manerville seemed to be a man of forty, that 
 change in his appearance was due solely to mental 
 shocks ; physically, he was well. He clasped the old 
 man's hand affectionately, and forced him not to rise, 
 saying : — 
 
 "Dear, kind Maltre Mathias, you, too, have had 
 your troubles." 
 
 "Mine were natural troubles, Monsieur le comte; 
 but yours — " 
 
 "We will talk of that presently, while we sup." 
 
 "If I had not a son in the magistracy, and a daugh- 
 ter married," said the good old man, "you would have 
 found in old Mathias, believe me, Monsieur le comte, 
 something better than mere hospitality. Why have 
 you come to Bordeaux at the very moment when posters 
 are on all the walls of the seizure of your farms at 
 
The Marriage Contract. 139 
 
 Grassol and Guadet, the vineyard of Belle-Rose and 
 the family mansion? I cannot tell yon the grief I 
 feel at the sight of those placards, — I, who for forty 
 years nursed that property as if it belonged to me ; I, 
 who bought it for your mother when I was only third 
 clerk to Monsieur Chesnau, my predecessor, and wrote 
 the deeds myself in my best round hand ; I, who have 
 those titles now in my successor's office; I, who have 
 known you since you were so high;" and the old man 
 stooped to put his hand near the ground. "Ah! a 
 man must have been a notary for forty-one years and 
 a half to know the sort of grief I feel to see my name 
 exposed before the face of Israel in those announce- 
 ments of the seizure and sale of the property. When 
 I pass through the streets and see men reading those 
 horrible yellow posters, I am ashamed, as if my own 
 honor and ruin were concerned. Some fools will 
 stand there and read them aloud expressly to draw 
 other fools about them — and what imbecile remarks 
 they make ! As if a man were not master of his own 
 property! Your father ran through two fortunes be- 
 fore he made the one he left you; and you wouldn't 
 be a Manerville if you did n't do likewise. Besides, 
 seizures of real estate have a whole section of the 
 Code to themselves ; they are expected and provided 
 for; you are in a position recognized by the law. — 
 If I were not an old man with white hair, I would 
 thrash those fools I hear reading aloud in the streets 
 such an abomination as this," added the worthy 
 notary, taking up a paper: " 'At the request of Dame 
 Natalie ^vangelista, wife of Paul-Francois-Joseph, 
 Comte de Manerville, separated from him as to 
 
140 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 worldly goods and chattels by the Lower court of the 
 department of the Seine — ' " 
 
 "Yes, and now separated in body," said Paul. 
 
 "Ah! " exclaimed the old man. 
 
 "Oh! against my wife's will," added the count, 
 hastily. "I was forced to deceive her; she did not 
 know that I was leaving her." 
 
 "You have left her?" 
 
 "My passage is taken; I sail for Calcutta on the 
 'Belle- Amelie.'" 
 
 "Two days hence! " cried the notary. "Then, 
 Monsieur le comte, we shall never meet again." 
 
 "You are only seventy-three, my dear Mathias, and 
 you have the gout, the brevet of old age. When I 
 return I shall find you still afoot. Your good head 
 and heart will be as sound as ever, and you will help 
 me to reconstruct what is now a shaken edifice. I 
 intend to make a noble fortune in seven years. I 
 shall be only forty on my return. All is still possible 
 at that age. " 
 
 "You?" said Mathias, with a gesture of amaze- 
 ment, — you, Monsieur le comte, to undertake com- 
 merce ! How can you even think of it ? " 
 
 "I am no longer Monsieur le comte, dear Mathias. 
 My passage is taken under the name of Camille, one 
 of my mother's baptismal names. I have acquire- 
 ments which will enable me to make my fortune other- 
 wise than in business. Commerce, at any rate, will 
 be only my final chance. I start with a sum in hand 
 sufficient for the redemption of my future on a large 
 scale." 
 
 "Where is that money? " 
 
t( 
 
 ti 
 
 The Marriage Contract. 141 
 
 "A friend is to send it to me." 
 
 The old man dropped his fork as he heard the word 
 
 friend," not in surprise, not scoffingly, but in grief; 
 his look and manner expressed the pain he felt in 
 finding Paul under the influence of a deceitful illusion ; 
 his practised eye fathomed a gulf where the count saw 
 nothing but solid ground. 
 
 I have been fifty years in the notariat," he said, 
 and I never yet knew a ruined man whose friends 
 would lend him money." 
 
 "You don't know de Marsay. I am certain that he 
 has sold out some of his investments already, and to- 
 morrow you will receive from him a bill of exchange 
 for one hundred and fifty thousand francs." 
 
 "I hope I may. If that be so, cannot your friend 
 settle your difficulties here? You could live quietly 
 at Laustrac for five or six years on your wife's income, 
 and so recover yourself." 
 
 "No assignment or economy on my part could pay 
 off fifteen hundred thousand francs of debt, in which 
 my wife is involved to the amount of five hundred and 
 fifty thousand." 
 
 "You cannot mean to say that in four years you 
 have incurred a million and a half of debt?" 
 
 "Nothing is more certain, Mathias. Did I not give 
 those diamonds to my wife? Did I not spend the 
 hundred and fifty thousand I received from the sale 
 of Madame Evangelista's house, in the arrangement 
 of my house in Paris? Was I not forced to use 
 other money for the first payments on that property 
 demanded by the marriage contract? I was even 
 forced to sell out Natalie's forty thousand a year in 
 
142 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 the Funds to complete the purchase of Auzac and Saint- 
 Froult. We sold at eighty-seven, therefore I became 
 in debt for over two hundred thousand francs within a 
 month after my marriage. That left us only sixty- 
 seven thousand francs a year; but we spent fully three 
 times as much every year. Add all that up, together 
 with rates of interest to usurers, and you will soon 
 find a million." 
 
 "Br-r-r! " exclaimed the old notary. "Go on. 
 What next?" 
 
 "Well, I wanted, in the first place, to complete for 
 my wife that set of jewels of which she had the pearl 
 necklace clasped by the family diamond, the Discreto, 
 and her mother's ear-rings. I paid a hundred thousand 
 francs for a coronet of diamond wheat-ears. There 's 
 eleven hundred thousand. And now I find I owe the 
 fortune of my wife, which amounts to three hundred 
 and sixty-six thousand francs of her dot." 
 
 "But," said Mathias, "if Madame la comtesse had 
 given up her diamonds and you had pledged your 
 income you could have pacified your creditors and 
 have paid them off in time." 
 
 "When a man is down, Mathias, when his property 
 is covered with mortgages, when his wife's claims 
 take precedence of his creditors', and when that man 
 has notes out for a hundred thousand francs which he 
 must pay (and I hope I can do so out of the increased 
 value of my property here), what you propose is not 
 possible." 
 
 "This is dreadful!" cried Mathias; "would you 
 sell Belle-Rose with the vintage of 1825 still in the 
 cellars ? " 
 
The Marriage Contract 143 
 
 "I cannot help myself." 
 
 "Belle-Rose is worth six hundred thousand francs." 
 
 "Natalie will buy it in; I have advised her to 
 do so." 
 
 "I might push the price to seven hundred thousand, 
 and the farms are worth a hundred thousand each." 
 
 "Then if the house in Bordeaux can be sold for two 
 hundred thousand — " 
 
 "Solonet will give more than that; he wants it." 
 He is retiring with a handsome property made by 
 gambling on the Funds. He has sold his practice for 
 three hundred thousand francs, and marries a mulatto 
 woman. God knows how she got her money, but they 
 say it amounts to millions. A notary gambling in 
 stocks! a notary marrying a black woman! What an 
 age! It is said that he speculates for your mother- 
 in-law with her funds." 
 
 "She has greatly improved Lanstrac and taken great 
 pains with its cultivation. She has amply repaid me 
 for the use of it." 
 
 "I should n't have thought her capable of that." 
 
 "She is so kind and so devoted; she has always 
 paid Natalie's debts during the three months she spent 
 with us every year in Paris." 
 
 "She could well afford to do so, for she gets her 
 living out of Lanstrac," said Mathias. "She! grown 
 economical! what a miracle! I am told she has just 
 bought the domain of Grainrouge between Lanstrac 
 and Grassol; so that if the Lanstrac avenue were 
 extended to the high-road, you would drive four and a 
 half miles through your own property to reach the 
 house. She paid one hundred thousand francs down 
 for Grainrouge." 
 
144 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 u< 
 
 She is as handsome as ever," said Paul; "country 
 life preserves her freshness; I don't mean to go to 
 Lanstrac and bid her good-bye; her heart would bleed 
 for me too much." 
 
 i 'You would go in vain; she is now in Paris. She 
 probably arrived there as you left." 
 
 " No doubt she had heard of the sale of my property 
 and came to help me. I have no complaint to make 
 of life, Mathias. I am truly loved, — as much as any 
 man ever could be here below ; beloved by two women 
 who outdo each other in devotion; they are even 
 jealous of each other; the daughter blames the mother 
 for loving me too much, and the mother reproaches the 
 daughter for what she calls her dissipations. I may 
 say that this great affection has been my ruin. How 
 could I fail to satisfy even the slightest caprice of a 
 loving wife? Impossible to restrain myself! Neither 
 could I accept any sacrifice on her part. We might 
 certainly, as you say, live at Lanstrac, save my in- 
 come, and part with her diamonds, but I would rather 
 go to India and work for a fortune than tear my 
 Natalie from the life she enjoys. So it was I who 
 proposed the separation as to property. Women are 
 angels who ought not to be mixed up in the sordid 
 interests of life." 
 
 Old Mathias listened in doubt and amazement. 
 
 "You have no children, I think," he said. 
 
 "Fortunately, none," replied Paul. 
 
 "That is not my idea of marriage," remarked the 
 old notary, naively. "A wife ought, in my opinion, 
 to share the orood and evil fortunes of her husband. I 
 have heard that young married people who love like 
 
The Marriage Contract. 145 
 
 lovers, do not want children? Is pleasure the only 
 object of marriage? I say that object should be the 
 joys of family. Moreover, in this case — I am afraid 
 you will think me too much of notary — your marriage 
 contract made it incumbent upon you to have a son. 
 Yes, Monsieur le comte, you ought to have had at 
 once a male heir to consolidate that entail. Why not? 
 Mademoiselle fivangelista was strong and healthy; 
 she had nothing to fear in maternity. You will tell 
 me, perhaps, that these are the old-fashioned notions 
 of our ancestors. But in those noble families, Mon- 
 sieur le comte, the legitimate wife thought it her 
 duty to bear children and bring them up nobly; as 
 the Duchesse de Sully, the wife of the great Sully, 
 said, a wife is not an instrument of pleasure, but the 
 honor and virtue of her household." 
 
 "You don't know women, my good Mathias," said 
 Paul. "In order to be happy we must love them as 
 they want to be loved. Is n't there something brutal 
 in at once depriving a wife of her charms, and spoil- 
 ing her beauty before she has begun to enjoy it? " 
 
 "If you had had children your wife would not have 
 dissipated your fortune; she would have stayed at 
 home and looked after them." 
 
 "If you were right, dear friend," said Paul, frown- 
 ing, "I should be still more unhappv than I am. Do 
 not aggravate my sufferings by preaching to me after 
 my fall. Let me go, without the pang of looking 
 backward to mistakes." 
 
 The next day Mathias received a bill of exchange 
 for one hundred and fifty thousand francs from de 
 Mar say. 
 
 10 
 
246 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 "You see," said Paul, "he does not write a word to 
 me. He begins by obliging me. Henri's nature is 
 the most imperfectly perfect, the most illegally beauti- 
 ful that I know. If you knew with what superiority 
 that man, still young, can rise above sentiments, 
 above self-interests, and judge them, you would be 
 astonished, as I am, to find how much heart he has." 
 
 Mathias tried to battle with Paul's determination, 
 but he found it irrevocable, and it was justified by so 
 maoy cogent reasons that the old man finally ceased 
 his endeavors to retain his client. 
 
 It is seldom that vessels sail promptly at the time 
 appointed, but on this occasion, by a fateful circum- 
 stance for Paul, the wind was fair and the "Belle- 
 Amelie " sailed on the morrow, as expected. The 
 quay was lined with relations, and friends, and idle 
 persons. Among them were several who had formerly 
 known Manerville. His disaster, posted on the walls 
 of the town, made him as celebrated as he was in 
 the days of his wealth and fashion. Curiosity was 
 aroused; every one had their word to say about him. 
 Old Mathias accompanied his client to the quay, and 
 his sufferings were sore as he caught a few words of 
 those remarks : — 
 
 "Who could recognize in that man you see over 
 there, near old Mathias, the dandy who was called 
 the Pink of Fashion five years ago, and made, as they 
 say, 'fair weather and foul ' in Bordeaux." 
 
 "What! that stout, short man in the alpaca over- 
 coat, who looks like a groom, — is that Comte Paul 
 de Manerville?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear, the same who married Mademoiselle 
 
The Marriage Contract. 147 
 
 fivangeli sta. Here he is, ruined, without a penny to 
 his name, going out to India to look for luck." 
 "But how did he ruin himself? he was very rich." 
 "Oh! Paris, women, play, luxury, gambling at the 
 Bourse — " 
 
 "Besides," said another, "Manerville always was a 
 poor creature; no mind, soft as papier-mache, he'd 
 let anybody shear the wool from his back; incapable 
 of anything, no matter what. He was born to be 
 ruined. 
 
 Paul wrung the hand of the old man and went on 
 board. Mathias stood upon the pier, looking at his 
 client, who leaned against the shrouds, defying the 
 crowd before him with a glance of contempt. At the 
 moment when the sailors began to weigh anchor, Paul 
 noticed that Mathias was making signals to him with 
 his handkerchief. The old housekeeper had hurried to 
 her master, who seemed to be excited by some sudden 
 event. Paul asked the captain to wait a moment, and 
 send a boat to the pier, which was done. Too feeble 
 himself to go aboard, Mathias gave two letters to a 
 sailor in the boat. 
 
 "My friend," he said, "this packet" (showing one 
 of the two letters) " is important ; it has just arrived 
 by a courier from Paris in thirty- five hours. State 
 this to Monsieur le comte; don't neglect to do so; 
 it may change hi3 plans." 
 "Would he come ashore?" 
 
 "Possibly, my friend," said the notary, impru- 
 dently. 
 
 The sailor is, in all lands, a being of a race apart, 
 Lolding all land-folk in contempt. This one happened 
 
148 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 to be a bas-Breton, who saw but one thing in Maitre 
 Mathias's request. 
 
 "Come ashore, indeed!" he thought, as he rowed. 
 "Make the captain lose a passenger! If one listened 
 to those walruses we 'd have nothing to do but 
 embark and disembark 'em. He 's afraid that son 
 of his will catch cold." 
 
 The sailor gave Paul the letter and said not a word 
 of the message. Recognizing the handwriting of his 
 wife and de Marsay, Paul supposed that he knew what 
 they both would urge upon him. Anxious not to be 
 influenced by offers which he believed their devotion 
 to hi3 welfare would inspire, he put the letters in his 
 pocket unread, with apparent indifference. 
 
 Absorbed in the sad thoughts which assail the 
 strongest man under such circumstances, Paul gave 
 way to his grief as he waved his hand to his old 
 friend, and bade farewell to France, watching the 
 steeples of Bordeaux as they fled out of sight. He 
 seated himself on a coil of rope. Night overtook him 
 still lost in thought. With the semi-darkness of the 
 dying day came doubts ; he cast an anxious eye into 
 the future. Sounding it, and finding there uncertainty 
 and danger, he asked his soul if courage would fail 
 him. A vague dread seized his mind as he thought of 
 Natalie left wholly to herself; he repented the step he 
 had taken ; he regretted Paris and his life there. Sud- 
 denly sea-sickness overcame him. Every one knows 
 the effect of that disorder. The most horrible of its 
 sufferings devoid of danger is a complete dissolution 
 of the will. An inexplicable distress relaxes to their 
 very centre the cords of vitality ; the soul no longer 
 
Tire Marriage Contract. 149 
 
 performs its functions; the sufferer becomes indifferent 
 to everything; the mother forgets her child, the lover 
 his mistress, the strongest man lies prone, like an 
 inert mass. Paul was carried to his cabin, where he 
 stayed three days, lying on his back, gorged with grog 
 by the sailors, or vomiting ; thinking of nothing, and 
 sleeping much. Then he revived into a species of 
 convalescence, and returned by degrees to his ordi- 
 nary condition. The first morning after he felt better 
 he went on deck and paced the poop, breathing in 
 the salt breezes of another atmosphere. Putting his 
 hands into his pockets he felt the letters. At once he 
 opened them, beginning with that of his wife. 
 
 In order that the letter of the Comtesse de Maner- 
 ville be fully understood, it is necessary to give the 
 one which Paul had written to her on the day that he 
 left Paris. 
 
 From Paul de Manerville to his wife : 
 
 My beloved, — When you read this letter I shall 
 be far away from you; perhaps already on the vessel 
 which is to take me to India, where I am going to 
 repair my shattered fortune. 
 
 I have not found courage to tell you of my depart- 
 ure. I have deceived you ; but it was best to do so. 
 You would only have been uselessly distressed; } t ou 
 would have wished to sacrifice your fortune, and that 
 I could not have suffered. Dear Natalie, feel no 
 remorse; I have no regrets. When I return with 
 millions I shall imitate your father and lay them at 
 your feet, as he laid his at the feet of your mother, 
 saying to you: "All I have is yours." 
 
150 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 I love you madly, Natalie; I say this without fear 
 that the avowal will lead you to strain a power which 
 none but weak men fear; yours has been boundless 
 from the day I knew you first. My love is the only 
 accomplice in my disaster. I have felt, as my ruin 
 progressed, the delirious joys of a gambler; as the 
 money diminished, so my enjoyment grew. Each frag- 
 ment of my fortune turned into some little pleasure 
 for you gave me untold happiness. I could have 
 wished that you had more caprices that I might gratify 
 them all. I knew I was marching to a precipice, but 
 I went on crowned with joys of which a common heart 
 knows nothing. I have acted like those lovers who 
 take refuge in a cottage on the shores of some lake 
 for a year or two, resolved to kill themselves at last ; 
 dying thus in all the glory of their illusions and their 
 love. I have always thought such persons infinitely 
 sensible. 
 
 You have known nothing of my pleasures or my 
 sacrifices. The greatest joy of all was to hide from 
 the one beloved the cost of her desires. I can reveal 
 these secrets to you now, for when you hold this 
 paper, heavy with love, I shall be far away. Though 
 I lose the treasures of your gratitude, I do not suffer 
 that contraction of the heart which would disable me if 
 I spoke to you of these matters. Besides, my own 
 beloved, is there not a tender calculation in thus re- 
 vealing to you the history of the past? Does it not 
 extend our love into the future? — But we need no 
 such supports! We love each other with a love to 
 which proof is needless, — a love which takes no note 
 of time or distance, but lives of itself alone. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 151 
 
 Ah! Natalie, I have just looked at you asleep, trust- 
 ful, restful as a little child, your hand stretched toward 
 me. I left a tear upon the pillow which has known 
 our precious joys. I leave you without fear, on the 
 faith of that attitude; I go to win the future of our 
 love by bringing home to you a fortune large enough 
 to gratify your every taste, and let no shadow of 
 anxiety disturb our joys. Neither you nor I can do 
 without enjoyments in the life we live. To me be- 
 longs the task of providing the necessary fortune. I 
 am a man ; and I have courage. 
 
 Perhaps you might seek to follow me. For that 
 reason I conceal from you the name of the vessel, the 
 port from which I sail, and the day of sailing. After 
 I am gone, when too late to follow me, a friend will 
 tell you all. 
 
 Natalie! my affection is boundless. I love you as 
 a mother loves her child, as a lover loves his mistress, 
 with absolute unselfishness. To me the toil, to you 
 the pleasures; to me all sufferings, to you all hap- 
 piness. Amuse yourself; continue your habits of 
 luxury; go to theatres and operas, enjoy society and 
 balls; I leave you free for all things. Dear angel, 
 when you return to this nest where for five years we 
 have tasted the fruits which love has ripened think of 
 your friend; think for a moment of me, and rest upon 
 my heart. 
 
 That is all I ask of you. For myself, dear eternal 
 thought of mine! whether under burning skies, toil- 
 ing for both of us, I face obstacles to vanquish, or 
 whether, weary with the struggle, I rest my mind on 
 hopes of a return, I shall think of you alone; of you 
 
152 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 who are my life, — my blessed life! Yes, I shall live 
 in you. I shall tell myself daily that you have no 
 troubles, no cares; that you are happy. As in our 
 natural lives of day and night, of sleeping and wak- 
 ing, I shall have sunny days in Paris, and nights of 
 toil in India, — a painful dream, a joyful reality; and 
 I shall live so utterly in that reality that my actual 
 life will pass as a dream. I shall have memories! I 
 shall recall, line by line, strophe by strophe, our 
 glorious five years' poem. I shall remember the days 
 of your pleasure in some new dress or some adornment 
 which made you to my eyes a fresh delight. Yes, 
 dear angel, I go like a man vowed to some great 
 emprize, the guerdon of which, if success attend him, 
 is the recovery of his beautiful mistress. Oh! my 
 precious love, my Natalie, keep me as a religion in 
 your heart. Be the child that I have just seen asleep ! 
 If you betray my confidence, my blind confidence, you 
 need not fear my anger — be sure of that ; I should 
 die silently. But a wife does not deceive the man 
 who leaves her free — for woman is never base. She 
 tricks a tyrant; but an easy treachery, which would 
 kill its victim, she will not commit — No, no! I will 
 not think of it. Forgive this cry, this single cry, so 
 natural to the heart of man ! 
 
 Dear love, you will see de Marsay; he is now the 
 lessee of our house, and he will leave you in posses-- 
 sion of it. This nominal lease was necessary to avoid 
 a useless loss. Our creditors, ignorant that their pay- 
 ment is a question of time only, would otherwise have 
 seized the furniture and the temporary possession of 
 the house. Be kind to de Marsay; I have the most 
 
The Marriage Contract. 153 
 
 entire confidence in his capacity and his loyalty. 
 Take him as your defender and adviser, make him 
 your slave. However occupied, he will always find 
 time to be devoted to you. I have placed the liquida 
 tion of my affairs and the payment of the debts in his 
 hands. If he should advance some sum of which he 
 should later feel in need I rely on you to pay it back. 
 Remember, however, that I do not leave you to de 
 Marsay, but to yourself; I do not seek to impose him 
 upon you. 
 
 Alas ! I have but an hour more to stay beside you ; 
 I cannot spend that hour in writing business — I 
 count your breaths; I try to guess your thoughts in 
 the slight motions of your sleep. I would I could 
 infuse my blood into your veins that you might be a 
 part of me, my thought your thought, and your heart 
 mine — A murmur has just escaped your lips as 
 though it were a soft reply. Be calm and beautiful 
 forever as you are now! Ah! would that I possessed 
 that fabulous fairy power which, with a wand, could 
 make you sleep while I am absent, until, returning, I 
 should wake you with a kiss. 
 
 How much I must love you, how much energy of 
 soul I must possess, to leave you as I see you now ! 
 Adieu, my cherished one. Your poor Pink of Fashion 
 is blown away by stormy winds, but — the wings of 
 his good luck shall waft him back to you. No, my 
 Ninie, I am not bidding you farewell, for I shall never 
 leave you. Are you not the soul of my actions? Is 
 not the hope of returning with happiness indestructible 
 for you the end and aim of my endeavor? Does it not 
 lead my every step? You will be with me every- 
 
154 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 where. Ah! it will not be the sun of India, but the 
 fire of your eyes that lights my way. Therefore be 
 happy — as happy as a woman can be without her 
 lover. I would the last kiss that I take from those 
 dear lips were not a passive one; but, my Ninie, my 
 adored one, I will not wake you. When you wake, 
 you will find a tear upon your forehead — make it a 
 talisman! Think, think of him who may, perhaps, 
 die for you, far from you ; think less of the husband 
 than of the lover who confides you to God. 
 
 From, the Comtesse de Manerville to her husband : 
 
 Dear, beloved one, — Your letter has plunged me 
 into affliction. Had you the right to take this course, 
 which must affect us equally, without consulting me? 
 Are you free? Do you not belong to me? If you 
 must go, why should I not follow you? You show 
 me, Paul, that I am not indispensable to you. What 
 have I done, to be deprived of my rights ? Surely I 
 count for something in this ruin. My luxuries have 
 weighed somewhat in the scale. You make me curse 
 the happy, careless life we have led for the last five 
 years. To know that you are banished from France 
 for years is enough to kill me. How soon can a 
 fortune be made in India? Will you ever return? 
 
 I was right when I refused, with instinctive obsti- 
 nacy, that separation as to property which my mother 
 and you were so determined to carry out. What did 
 T tell you then? Did I not warn you that it was cast- 
 ing a reflection upon you, and would ruin your credit? 
 It was not until you were really angry that I gave 
 way- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 155 
 
 My dear Paul, never have you been so noble in my 
 eyes as you are at this moment. To despair of noth- 
 ing, to start courageously to seek a fortune ! Only your 
 character, your strength of mind could do it. I sit 
 at your feet. A man who avows his weakness with 
 your good faith, who rebuilds his fortune from the 
 same motive that made him wreck it, for love's sake, 
 for the sake of an irresistible passion, oh, Paul, that 
 man is sublime! Therefore, fear nothing; go on, 
 through all obstacles, not doubting your Natalie — for 
 that would be doubting yourself. Poor darling, you 
 mean to live in me? And I shall ever be in you. I 
 shall not be here ; I shall be wherever you are, where- 
 ever you go. 
 
 Though your letter has caused me the keenest pain, 
 it has also filled me with joy — you have made me 
 know those two extremes! Seeing how you love me, 
 I have been proud to learn that my love is truly felt. 
 Sometimes I have thought that I loved you more than 
 you loved me. Now, I admit myself vanquished, you 
 have added the delightful superiority — of loving — to 
 all the others with which you are blest. That precious 
 letter in which your soul reveals itself will lie upon 
 my heart during all your absence; for my soul, too, 
 is in it; that letter is my glory. 
 
 I shall go to live at Lanstrac with my mother. I 
 die to the world; I will economize my income and 
 pay your debts to their last farthing. From this day 
 forth, Paul, T am another woman. I bid farewell for- 
 ever to society; I will have no pleasures that you 
 cannot share. Besides, Paul, I ought to leave Paris 
 and live in retirement. Dear friend, you will soon 
 
156 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 have a double reason to make your fortune. If your 
 courage needed a spur you would find it in this. 
 Cannot you guess? We shall have a child. Your 
 cherished desires are granted. I feared to give you 
 one of those false hopes which hurt so much — have 
 we not had grief enough already on that score ? I was 
 determined not to be mistaken in this good news. 
 To-day I feel certain, and it makes me happy to shed 
 this joy upon your sorrows. 
 
 This morning, fearing nothing and thinking you 
 still at home, I went to the Assumption; all things 
 smiled upon me; how could I foresee misfortune? As 
 I left the church I met my mother; she had heard of 
 your distress, and came, by post, with all her savings, 
 thirty thousand francs, hoping to help you. Ah! 
 what a heart is hers, Paul ! I felt joyful, and hurried 
 home to tell you this good news, and to breakfast 
 with you in the greenhouse, where I ordered just the 
 dainties that you like. Well, Augustine brought me 
 your letter, — a letter from you, when we had slept 
 together! A cold fear seized me; it was like a dream! 
 I read your letter! I read it weeping, and my mother 
 shared my tears. I was half-dead. Such love, such 
 courage, such happiness, such misery! The richest 
 fortunes of the heart, and the momentary ruin of all 
 interests ! To lose you at a moment when my admira- 
 tion of your greatness thrilled me ! what woman could 
 have resisted such a tempest of emotion? To know 
 you far away when your hand upon my heart would 
 have stilled its throbbings; to feel that you were not 
 here to give me that look so precious to me, to re- 
 joice in our new hopes; that I was not with you to 
 
The Marriage Contract. 157 
 
 soften your sorrows by those caresses which made your 
 Natalie so dear to you! I wished to start, to follow 
 you, to fly to you. But my mother told me you had 
 taken passage in a ship which leaves Bordeaux to- 
 morrow, that I could not reach you except by post, 
 and, moreover, that it w r as madness in my present 
 state to risk our future by attempting to follow you. 
 I could not bear such violent emotions ; I was taken 
 ill, and am writing to you now in bed. 
 
 My mother is doing all she can to stop certain 
 calumnies which seem to have got about on your dis- 
 aster. The Vandenesses, Charles and Felix, have 
 earnestly defended you; but your friend de Marsay 
 treats the affair satirically. He laughs at your 
 accusers instead of replying to them. I do not like 
 his way of lightly brushing aside such serious attacks. 
 Are you not deceived in him ? However, I will obey 
 you ; I will make him my friend. Do not be anxious, 
 my adored one, on the points that concern your honor; 
 is it not mine as well? My diamonds shall be 
 pledged; we intend, mamma and I, to employ our 
 utmost resources in the payment of your debts; and 
 we shall try to buy back your vineyard at Belle-Rose. 
 My mother, who understands business like a lawyer, 
 blames you very much for not having told her of your 
 embarrassments. She would not have bought — think- 
 ing to please you — the Grainrouge domain, and then 
 she could have lent you that money as well as the 
 thirty thousand francs she brought with her. She is 
 in despair at your decision ; she fears the climate of 
 India for your health. She entreats you to be sober, 
 and not to let yourself be trapped by women — That 
 
158 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 made me laugh; I am as sure of you as I am of 
 myself. You will return to me rich and faithful. I 
 alone know your feminine delicacy, and the secret 
 sentiments which make you a human flower worthy of 
 the gardens of heaven. The Bordeaux people were 
 right when they gave you your floral nickname. 
 
 But alas! who will take care of my delicate flower? 
 My heart is rent with dreadful ideas. I, his wife, 
 Natalie, I am here, and perhaps he suffers far away 
 from me ! And not to share your pains, your vexa- 
 tions, your dangers! In whom will you confide? how 
 will you live without that ear into which you have 
 hitherto poured all? Dear, sensitive plant, swept 
 away by this storm, will you be able to survive in 
 another soil than your native land? 
 
 It seems to me that I have been alone for centuries. 
 I have wept sorely. To be the cause of your ruin ! 
 What a text for the thoughts of a loving woman! 
 You treated me like a child to whom we give all it 
 asks, or like a courtesan, allowed by some thoughtless 
 youth to squander his fortune. Ah ! such indulgence 
 was, in truth, an insult. Did you think I could not 
 live without fine dresses, balls and operas and social 
 triumphs? Am I so frivolous a woman? Do you 
 think me incapable of serious thought, of ministering 
 to your fortune as I have to your pleasures ? If you 
 were not so far away, and so unhappy, I would blame 
 you for that impertinence. Why lower your wife in 
 that way? Good heavens! what induced me to go 
 into society at all ? — to flatter your vanity ; I adorned 
 myself for you, as you well know. If I did wrong, 
 I am punished, cruelly; your absence is a harsh 
 expiation of our mutual life. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 159 
 
 Perhaps my happiness was too complete; it had to 
 be paid by some great trial — and here it is. There 
 is nothing now for me but solitude. Yes, I shall live 
 at Lanstrac, the place your father laid out, the house 
 you yourself refurnished so luxuriously. There I 
 shall live, with my mother and my child, and await 
 you, — sending you daily, night and morning, the 
 prayers of all. Remember that our love is a talisman 
 against all evil. I have no more doubt of you than 
 you can have of me. What comfort can I put into 
 this letter, — I so desolate, so broken, with the 
 lonely years before me, like a desert to cross. But 
 no! I am not utterly unhappy; the desert will be 
 brightened by our son, — yes, it must be a son, must 
 it not? 
 
 And now, adieu, my own beloved; our love and 
 prayers will follow you. The tears you see upon this 
 paper will tell you much that I cannot write. I kiss 
 you on this little square of paper, see ! below. Take 
 those kisses from 
 
 Your Natalie. 
 
 This letter threw Paul into a revery caused as much 
 by memories of the past as by these fresh assurances 
 of love. The happier a man is, the more he trembles. 
 In souls which are exclusively tender — and exclusive 
 tenderness carries with it a certain amount of weak- 
 ness — jealousy and uneasiness exist in direct pro- 
 portion to the amount of the happiness and its extent. 
 Strong souls are neither jealous nor fearful; jealousy 
 
160 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 is doubt, fear is meanness. Unlimited belief is the 
 principal attribute of a great man. If he is deceived 
 (for strength as well as weakness may make a man a 
 dupe) hi"s contempt will serve him as an axe with 
 which to cut through all. This greatness, however, 
 is the exception. Which of us has not known what 
 it is to be abandoned by the spirit which sustains our 
 frail machine, and to hearken to that mysterious Voice 
 denying all? Paul, his mind going over the past, and 
 caught here and there by irrefutable facts, believed 
 and doubted all. Lost in thought, a prey to an awful 
 and involuntary incredulity, which was combated by 
 the instincts of his own pure love and his faith in 
 Natalie, he read and re-read that wordy letter, unable 
 to decide the question which it raised either for or 
 against his wife. Love is sometimes as great and 
 true when smothered in words as it is in brief, strong 
 sentences. 
 
 To understand the situation into which Paul de 
 Manerville was about to enter we must think of him 
 as he was at this moment, floating upon the ocean as 
 he floated upon his past, looking back upon the years 
 of his life as he looked at the limitless water and 
 cloudless sky about him, and ending his revery by 
 returning, through tumults of doubt, to faith, the 
 pure, unalloyed and perfect faith of the Christian 
 and the lover, which enforced the voice of his faithful 
 heart. 
 
 It is necessary to give here his own letter to 
 de Marsay written on leaving Paris, to which his 
 friend replied in the letter he received through old 
 Mathias from the dock: — 
 
The Marriage Contract. 1G1 
 
 From Comte Paul de Manerville to Monsieur le 
 Marquis Henri de Marsay : 
 
 Henri, — I have to say to you one of the most vital 
 words a man can say to his friend: — I am ruined. 
 When you read this I shall be on the point of sail- 
 ing from Bordeaux for Calcutta on the brig "Belle- 
 Amelie." 
 
 You will find in the hands of your notary a deed 
 which only needs your signature to be legal. In it, I 
 lease my house to you for six years at a nominal rent. 
 Send a duplicate of that deed to my wife. I am 
 forced to take this precaution that Natalie may con- 
 tinue to live in her own home without fear of being 
 driven out by creditors. 
 
 I also convey to you by deed the income of my share 
 of the entailed property for four years; the whole 
 amounting to one hundred and fifty thousand francs, 
 which sum I beg you to lend me and to send in a bill 
 of exchange on some house in Bordeaux to my notary, 
 Maitre Mathias. My wife will give you her signature 
 to this paper as an endorsement of your claim to my 
 income. If the revenues of the entail do not pay this 
 loan as quickly as I now expect, you and I will settle 
 on my return. The sum I ask for is absolutely neces- 
 sary to enable me to seek my fortune in India; and if 
 I know you, I shall receive it in Bordeaux the night 
 before I sail. 
 
 I have acted as you would have acted in my place. 
 I held firm to the last moment, letting no one suspect 
 my ruin. Before the news of the seizure of my prop- 
 erty at Bordeaux reached Paris, I had attempted, with 
 one hundred thousand francs which I obtained on 
 
 11 
 
162 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 notes, to recover myself by play. Some lucky stroke 
 might still have saved me. I lost. 
 
 How have I ruined myself? By my own will, Henri. 
 From the first month of my married life I saw that I 
 could not keep up the style in which I started. I 
 knew the result; but I chose to shut my eyes; I could 
 not say to my wife, "We must leave Paris and live 
 at Lanstrac." I have ruined myself for her as men 
 ruin themselves for a mistress, but I knew it all 
 along. Between ourselves, I am neither a fool nor a 
 weak man. A fool does not let himself be ruled with 
 his eyes open by a passion ; and a man who starts for 
 India to reconstruct his fortune, instead of blowing 
 out his brains, is not weak. 
 
 I shall return rich, or I shall never return at all. 
 Only, my dear friend, as I want wealth solely for her, 
 as I must be absent six years at least, and as I will 
 not risk being duped in any way, I confide to you my 
 wife. I know no better guardian. Being childless, 
 a lover might be dangerous to her. Henri! I love her 
 madly, basely, without proper pride. I would forgive 
 her, I think, an infidelity, not because I am certain of 
 avenging it, but because I would kill myself to leave 
 her free and happy — since I could not make her 
 happiness myself. But what have I to fear? Natalie 
 feels for me that friendship which is independent of 
 love, but which preserves love. I have treated her 
 like a petted child. I took such delight in my sacri- 
 fices, one led so naturally to another, that she can 
 never be false ; she would be a monster if she were. 
 Love begets love. 
 
 Alas! shall I tell you all, my dear Henri? I have 
 
The Marriage Contract. 1G3 
 
 just written her a letter in which I let her think that 
 I go with heart of hope and brow serene ; that neither 
 jealousy, nor doubt, nor fear is in my soul, — a letter, 
 in short, such as a son might write to his mother, 
 aware that he was going to his death. Good God ! de 
 Marsay, as I wrote it hell was in my soul! I am the 
 most wretched man on earth. Yes, yes, to you the 
 cries, to you the grinding of my teeth! I avow my- 
 self to you a despairing lover; I would rather live 
 these six years sweeping the streets beneath her 
 windows than return a millionnaire at the end of 
 them — if I could choose. I suffer agony ; I shall 
 pass from pain to pain until I hear from you that 
 you will take the trust which you alone can fulfil or 
 accomplish. 
 
 Oh! my dear de Marsay, this woman is indispen- 
 sable to my life; she is my sun, my atmosphere. 
 Take her under your shield and buckler, keep her 
 faithful to me, even if she wills it not. Yes, I could 
 be satisfied with a half-happiness. Be her guardian, 
 her chaperon, for I could have no distrust of you. 
 Prove to her that in betraying me she would do a low 
 and vulgar thing, and be no better than the common 
 run of women; tell her that faithfulness will prove 
 her lofty spirit. 
 
 She probably has fortune enough to continue her life 
 of luxury and ease. But if she lacks a pleasure, if 
 she has caprices which she cannot satisfy, be her 
 banker, and do not fear, I will return with wealth. 
 
 But, after all, these fears are vain! Natalie is an 
 angel of purity and virtue. When Felix de Vande- 
 nesse fell deeply in love with her and began to show 
 
164 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 her certain attentions, I had only to let her see the 
 danger, and she instantly thanked me so affectionately 
 that I was moved to tears. She said that her dignity 
 and reputation demanded that she should not close her 
 doors abruptly to any man, but that she knew well 
 how to dismiss him. She did, in fact, receive him so 
 coldly that the affair all ended for the best. We have 
 never had any other subject of dispute — if, indeed, a 
 friendly talk could be called a dispute — in all our 
 married life. 
 
 And now, my dear Henri, I bid you farewell in the 
 spirit of a man. Misfortune has come. No matter 
 what the cause, it is here. I strip to meet it. Pov- 
 erty and Natalie are two irreconcilable terms. The 
 balance may be close between my assets and my lia- 
 bilities, but no one shall have cause to complain of 
 me. But, should any unforeseen event occur to im- 
 peril my honor, I count on you. 
 
 Send letters under cover to the Governor of India at 
 Calcutta. I have friendly relations with his family, 
 and some one there will care for all letters that come 
 to me from Europe. Dear friend, I hope to find you 
 the same de Marsay on my return, — the man who 
 scoffs at everything and yet is receptive of the feelings 
 of others when they accord with the grandeur he is 
 conscious of in himself. You stay in Paris, friend; 
 but when you read these words, I shall be crying out, 
 " To Carthage!" 
 
The Marriage Contract. 165 
 
 The Marquis Henri de Marsay to Comte Paul de 
 Manerville : 
 
 So, so, Monsieur le comte, you have made a wreck of 
 it! Monsieur l'ambassadeur has gone to the bottom! 
 Are these the fine things that you were doing ? 
 
 Why, Paul, why have you kept away from me? If 
 you had said a single word, my poor old fellow, I 
 would have made your position plain to you. Your 
 wife has refused me her endorsement. May that one 
 word unseal your eyes ! But, if that does not suffice, 
 learn that your notes have been protested at the insti- 
 gation of a Sieur Lecuyer, formerly head-clerk to 
 Maitre Solonet, a notary in Bordeaux. That usurer 
 in embryo (who came from Gascony for jobbery) is 
 the proxy of your very honorable mother-in-law, who 
 is the actual holder of your notes for one hundred 
 thousand francs, on which I am told that worthy 
 woman doled out to you only seventy thousand. 
 Compared with Madame Evangel ista, papa Gobseck 
 is flannel, velvet, vanilla cream, a sleeping draught. 
 Your vineyard of Belle-Rose is to fall into the clutches 
 of your wife, to whom her mother pays the difference 
 between the price it goes for at the auction sale and 
 the amount of her dower claim upon it. Madame 
 Evangelista will also have the farms at Guadet and 
 Grassol, and the mortgages on your house in Bor- 
 deaux already belong to her, in the names of straw 
 men provided by Solonet. 
 
 Thus these two excellent women will make for 
 themselves a united income of one hundred and 
 twenty thousand francs a year out of your misfortunes 
 and forced sale of property, added to the revenue of 
 
166 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 some thirty-odd thousand on the Grand-livre which 
 these cats already possess. 
 
 The endorsement of your wife was not needed; for 
 this morning the said Sieur Lecuyer came to offer me 
 a return of the sum I lent you in exchange for a legal 
 transfer of my rights. The vintage of 1825 which 
 your mother-in-law keeps in the cellars at Lanstrac 
 will suffice to pay me. 
 
 These two women have calculated, evidently, that 
 you are now upon the ocean; but I send this letter 
 by courier, so that you may have time to follow the 
 advice I now give you. 
 
 I made Lecuyer talk. I disentangled from his lies, 
 his language, and his reticence, the threads I lacked 
 to bring to light the whole plot of the domestic con- 
 spiracy hatched against you. This evening, at the 
 Spanish embassy, I shall offer my admiring compli- 
 ments to your mother-in-law and your wife. I shall 
 pay court to Madame Evangelista ; I intend to desert 
 you basely, and say sly things to your discredit, — 
 nothing openly, or that Mascarille in petticoats would 
 detect my purpose. How did you make her such an 
 enemy? That is what I want to know. If you had 
 had the wit to be in love with that woman before you 
 married her daughter, you would to-day be peer of 
 France, Due de Manerville, and, possibly, ambassador 
 to Madrid. 
 
 If you had come to me at the time of your marriage, 
 I would have helped you to analyze and know the 
 women to whom you were binding yourself; out of 
 our mutual observations safety might have been yours. 
 But, instead of that, these women judged me, became 
 
The Marriage Contract 167 
 
 afraid of me, and separated us. If you had not 
 stupidly given in to them and turned me the cold 
 shoulder, they would never have been able to ruin 
 you. Your wife brought on the coldness between us, 
 instigated by her mother, to whom she wrote two 
 letters a week, — a fact to which you paid no atten- 
 tion. I recognized my Paul when I heard that 
 detail. 
 
 Within a month I shall be so intimate with your 
 mother-in-law that I shall hear from her the reasons of 
 the hispano-italiano hatred which she feels for you, 
 — for you, one of the best and kindest men on earth! 
 Did she hate you before her daughter fell in love with 
 Felix de Vandenesse; that 's a question in my mind. 
 If I had not taken a fancy to go to the East with 
 Montriveau, Ronquerolles, and a few other good fel- 
 lows of your acquaintance, I should have been in a 
 position to tell you something about that affair, which 
 was beginning just as I left Paris. I saw the first 
 gleams even then of your misfortune. But what 
 gentleman is base enough to open such a subject 
 unless appealed to? Who shall dare to injure a 
 woman, or break that illusive mirror in which his 
 friend delights in gazing at the fairy scenes of a happy 
 marriage? Illusions are the riches of the heart. 
 
 Your wife, dear friend, is, I believe I may say, in 
 the fullest acceptation of the word, a fashionable 
 woman. She thinks of nothing but her social suc- 
 cess, her dress, her pleasures; she goes to opera and 
 theatre and balls; she rises late and drives to the 
 Bois, dines out, or gives a dinner-party. Such a life 
 seems to me for women very much what war is for 
 
168 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 men; the public sees only the victors; it forgets the 
 dead. Many delicate women perish in this conflict; 
 those who come out of it have iron constitutions, con- 
 sequently no heart, but good stomachs. There lies 
 the reason of the cold insensibility of social life. 
 Fine souls keep themselves reserved, weak and tender 
 natures succumb ; the rest are cobblestones which hold 
 the social ocean in its place, water-worn and rounded 
 by the tide, but never worn-out. Your wife has 
 maintained that life with ease; she looks made for it; 
 she is always fresh and beautiful. To my mind the 
 deduction is plain, — she has never loved you; and 
 you have loved her like a madman. 
 
 To strike out love from that silicious nature a man of 
 iron was needed. After standing, but without endur- 
 ing, the shock of Lady Dudley, Felix was the fitting 
 mate to Natalie. There is no great merit in divining 
 that to you she was indifferent. In love with her your- 
 self, you have been incapable of perceiving the cold 
 nature of a young woman whom you have fashioned 
 and trained for a man like Vandenesse. The cold- 
 ness of your wife, if you perceived it, you set down, 
 with the stupid jurisprudence of married people, to 
 the honor of her reserve and her innocence. Like all 
 husbands, you thought you could keep her virtuous 
 in a society where women whisper from ear to ear 
 that which men are afraid to say. 
 
 No, your wife has liked the social benefits she 
 derived from marriage, but the private burdens of it 
 she found rather heavy. Those burdens, that tax was 
 — you! Seeing nothing of all this, you have gone on 
 digging your abysses (to use the hackneyed words of 
 
The Marriage Contract. 169 
 
 rhetoric) and covering them with flowers. You have' 
 mildly obeyed the law which rules the ruck of men ; 
 from which I desired to protect you. Dear fellow! 
 only one thing was wanting to make you as dull as the 
 bourgeois deceived by his wife, who is all astonish- 
 ment or wrath, and that is that you should talk to me 
 of your sacrifices, your love for Natalie, and chant that 
 psalm: " Ungrateful would she be if she betrayed me; 
 I have done this, I have done that, and more will I 
 do ; I will go to the ends of the earth, to the Indies 
 for her sake. I — I — " etc. My dear Paul, have 
 you never lived in Paris, have you never had the 
 honor of belonging by the ties of friendship to Henri 
 de Marsay, that you should be so ignorant of the 
 commonest things, the primitive principles that move 
 the feminine mechanism, the a-b-c of their hearts? 
 Then hear me : — 
 
 Suppose you exterminate yourself, suppose you go 
 to Saint-Pelagie for a woman's debts, suppose you 
 kill a score of men, desert a dozen women, serve like 
 Laban, cross the deserts, skirt the galleys, cover your- 
 self with glory, cover yourself with shame, refuse, 
 like Nelson, to fight a battle till you have kissed the 
 shoulder of Lady Hamilton, dash yourself, like Bona- 
 parte, upon the bridge at Areola, go mad like Roland, 
 risk your life to dance five minutes with a woman — 
 my dear fellow, what have all those things to do with 
 love? If love were won by samples such as those 
 mankind would be too happy. A spurt of prowess at 
 the moment of desire would give a man the woman 
 that he wanted. But love, love^ my good Paul, is a 
 faith like that in the Immaculate conception of the 
 
170 The Marriage Contract, 
 
 Holy Virgin; it comes, or it does not come. Will 
 the mines of Potosi, or the shedding of our blood, or 
 the making of our fame serve to waken an involuntary, 
 an inexplicable sentiment? Young men like you, who 
 expect to be loved as the balance of your account, are 
 nothing else than usurers. Our legitimate wives owe 
 us virtue and children, but they don't owe us love. 
 
 Love, my dear Paul, is the sense of pleasure given 
 and received, and the certainty of giving and receiv- 
 ing it; love is a desire incessantly moving and grow- 
 ing, incessantly satisfied and insatiable. The day 
 when Vandenesse stirred the cord of a desire in your 
 wife's heart which you had left untouched, all 
 your self-satisfied affection, your gifts, your deeds, 
 your money, ceased to be even memories; one emo- 
 tion of love in your wife's heart has cast out the 
 treasures of your own passion, which are now nothing 
 better than old iron. Felix has the virtues and the * 
 beauties in her eyes, and the simple moral is that 
 blinded by your own love you never made her love you. 
 
 Your mother-in-law is on the side of the lover 
 against the husband, — secretly or not ; she may have 
 closed her eyes, or she may have opened them ; I know 
 not what she has done — but one thing is certain, she 
 is for her daughter, and against you. During the 
 fifteen years that I have observed society, I have 
 never yet seen a mother who, under such circum- 
 stances, abandons her daughter. This indulgence 
 seems to be an inheritance transmitted in the female 
 line. What man can blame it? Some copyist of the 
 Civil code, perhaps, who sees formulas only in the place 
 of feelings. 
 
The Marriage Contract. 171 
 
 As for your present position, the dissipation into 
 which the life of a fashionable woman cast you, and 
 your own easy nature, possibly your vanity, have 
 opened the way for your wife and her mother to get 
 rid of you by this ruin so skilfully contrived. From all 
 of which you will conclude, my good friend, that the 
 mission you intrusted to me, and which I would all 
 the more faithfully fulfil because it amused me, is, 
 necessarily, null and void. The evil you wish me to 
 prevent is accomplished, — consummatum est. 
 
 Forgive me, dear friend, if I write to you, as you 
 say, a la de Marsay on subjects which must seem to 
 you very serious. Far be it from me to dance upon 
 the grave of a friend, like heirs upon that of a pro- 
 genitor. But you have written to me that you mean 
 to act the part of a man, and I believe you; I there- 
 fore treat you as a man of the world, and not as a 
 lover. For you, this blow ought to be like the brand 
 on the shoulder of a galley-slave, which flings him 
 forever into a life of systematic opposition to society. 
 You are now freed cf one evil: marriage possessed 
 you ; it now behooves you to turn round and possess 
 marriage. 
 
 Paul, I am your friend in the fullest acceptation of 
 the word. If you had a brain in an iron skull, if you 
 had the energy which has come to you too late, I 
 would have proved my friendship by telling you things 
 that would have made you walk upon humanity as 
 upon a carpet. But when I did talk to you guardedly 
 of Parisian civilization, when I told you in the dis- 
 guise of fiction some of the actual adventures of my 
 youth, you regarded them as mere romance and would 
 
172 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 not see their bearing. When I told you that history 
 of a lawyer at the galleys branded for forgery, who 
 committed the crime to give his wife, adored like 
 yours, an income of thirty thousand francs, and whom 
 his wife denounced that she might be rid of him and 
 free to love another man, you exclaimed, and other 
 fools who were supping with us exclaimed against 
 me. Well, my dear Paul, you were that lawyer, less 
 the galleys. 
 
 Your friends here are not sparing you. The sister 
 of the two Vandenesses, the Marquise de Listomere 
 and all her set, in which, by the bye, that little 
 Rastignac has enrolled himself, — the scamp will 
 make his way! — Madame d'Aiglemont and her salon, 
 the Lenoncourts, the Comtesse Ferraud, Madame 
 d'Espard, the Nucingens, the Spanish ambassador, in 
 short, all the cliques in society are flingiug mud upon 
 you. You are a bad man, a gambler, a dissipated 
 fellow who has squandered his property. After pay- 
 ing your debts a great many times, your wife, an angel 
 of virtue, has just redeemed your notes for one hun- 
 dred thousand francs, although her property was sep- 
 arate from yours. Luckily, you had done the best 
 you could do by disappearing. If you had stayed 
 here you would have made her bed in the straw; the 
 poor woman would have been the victim of her 
 conjugal devotion! 
 
 When a man attains to power, my dear Paul, he 
 has all the virtues of an epitaph; let him fall into 
 poverty, and he has more sins than the Prodigal Son; 
 society at the present moment gives you the vices of 
 a Don Juan. You gambled at the Bourse, you had 
 
The Marriage Contract. 173 
 
 licentious tastes which cost you fabulous sums of 
 money to gratify; you paid enormous interests to 
 money-lenders. The two Vandenesses have told 
 everywhere how Gigonnet gave you for six thousand 
 francs an ivory frigate, and made your valet buy 
 it back for three hundred in order to sell it to you 
 again. The incident did really happen to Maxime de 
 Trailles about nine years ago ; but it fits your present 
 circumstances so well that Maxime has forever lost 
 the command of his frigate. 
 
 In short, I can't tell you one-half that is said; you 
 have supplied a whole encyclopaedia of gossip which 
 the women have an interest in swelling. Your wife 
 is having an immense success. Last evening at the 
 opera Madame Firmiani began to repeat to me some 
 of the things that are being said. "Don't talk of 
 that," I replied. "You know nothing of the real 
 truth, you people. Paul has robbed the Bank, cheated 
 the Treasury, murdered Ezzelin and three Medoras in 
 the rue Saint-Denis, and I think, between ourselves, 
 that he is a member of the Dix-Mille. His associate 
 is the famous Jacques Collin, on whom the police 
 have been unable to lay a hand since he escaped from 
 the galleys. Paul gave him a room in his house; you 
 see he is capable of anything ; in fact, the two have 
 gone off to India together to rob the Great Mogul." 
 Madame Firmiani, like the distinguished woman that 
 she is, saw that she ought not to convert her beautiful 
 lips into a mouthpiece for false denunciation. 
 
 Many persons, when they hear of these tragi-come- 
 dies of life, refuse to believe them. They take the 
 side of human nature and fine sentiments ; they declare 
 
174 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 that these things do not exist. But Talleyrand said 
 a fine thing, my dear fellow: "All things happen." 
 Truly, things happen under our very noses which are 
 more amazing than this domestic plot of yours; but 
 society has an interest in denying them, and in declar- 
 ing itself calumniated. Often these dramas are played 
 so naturally and with such a varnish of good taste that 
 even I have to rub the lens of my opera-glass to see 
 to the bottom of them. But, I repeat to you, when 
 a man is a friend of mine, when we have received 
 together the baptism of champagne and have knelt 
 together before the altar of the Venus Commodus, 
 when the crooked fingers of play have given us their 
 benediction, if that man finds himself in a false posi- 
 tion I 'd ruin a score of families to do him justice. 
 
 You must be aware from all this that I love you. 
 Have I ever in my life written a letter as long as this ? 
 No. Therefore, read with attention what I still have 
 to say. 
 
 Alas ! Paul, I shall be forced to take to writing, for 
 I am taking to politics. I am going into public life. 
 I intend to have, within five years, the portfolio of a 
 ministry or some embassy. There comes an age when 
 the only mistress a man can serve is his country. I 
 enter the ranks of those who intend to upset not only 
 the ministry, but the whole present system of govern- 
 ment. In short, I swim in the waters of a certain 
 prince who is lame of the foot only, — a man whom I 
 regard as a statesman of genius whose name will go 
 down to posterity; a prince as complete in his way 
 as a great artist may be in his. 
 
 Several of us, Ronquerolles, Montriveau, the Grand- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 175 
 
 lieus, La Roche-Hugon, Serisy, Feraucl, and Granville, 
 have allied ourselves against the "parti-pretre," as 
 the party-ninny represented by the "Constitutionnel " 
 has ingeniously said. We intend to overturn the 
 Navarreins, Lenoncourts, Vandenesses, and the Grand 
 Almonry. In order to succeed we shall even ally our- 
 selves with Lafayette, the Orleanists, and the Left, — 
 people whom we can throttle on the morrow of victory, 
 for no government in the world is possible with their 
 principles. We are capable of anything for the good 
 of the country — and our own. 
 
 Now, then, my dear Paul, instead of setting sail for 
 India you would do a much wiser thing to navigate 
 with me the waters of the Seine. Believe me, Paris 
 is still the place where fortune, abundant fortune, can 
 be won. Potosi is in the rue Vivienne, the rue de la 
 Paix, the Place Vendome, the rue de Rivoli. In all 
 other places and countries material works and labors, 
 marches and counter-marches, and sweatings of the 
 brow are necessary to the building up of fortune; but 
 in Paris thought suffices. Here, every man even 
 mentally mediocre, can see a mine of wealth as he 
 puts on his slippers, or picks his teeth after dinner, in 
 his down-sitting and his up-rising. Find me another 
 place on the globe where a good round stupid idea 
 brings in more money, or is sooner understood than 
 it is here. 
 
 If I reach the top of the ladder, as I shall, am I the 
 man to refuse you a helping hand, an influence, a 
 signature? We shall want, we young roues, a faith- 
 ful friend on whom to count, if only to compromise 
 Lim and make him a scape-goat, or send him to die 
 
176 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 like a common soldier to save his general. Govern- 
 ment is impossible without a man of honor at one's 
 side, in whom to confide and with whom we can do 
 and say everything. 
 
 Here is what I propose. Let the " Belle- Amelie " 
 sail without you; come back here like a thunderbolt; 
 I '11 arrange a duel for you with Vandenesse in which 
 you shall have the first shot, and you can wing him 
 like a pigeon. In France the husband who shoots his 
 rival becomes at once respectable and respected. No 
 one ever cavils at him again. Fear, my dear fellow, 
 is a valuable social element, a means of success for 
 those who lower their eyes before the gaze of no man 
 living. I who care as little to live as to drink a glass 
 of milk, and who have never felt the emotion of fear, 
 I have remarked the strange effects produced by that 
 sentiment upon our modern manners. Some men 
 tremble to lose the enjoyments to which they are 
 attached, others dread to leave a woman. The old 
 adventurous habits of other days when life was flung 
 away like a garment exist no longer. The bravery 
 of a great many men is nothing more than a clever 
 calculation on the fear of their adversary. The Poles 
 are the only men in Europe who fight for the pleasure 
 of fighting; they cultivate the art for the art's sake, 
 and not for speculation. 
 
 Now hear me: kill Vandenesse, and your wife 
 trembles, your mother-in-law trembles, the public 
 trembles, and you recover your position, you prove 
 your grand passion for your wife, you subdue society, 
 you subdue your wife, you become a hero. Such is 
 France. As for your embarrassments, I hold a hun- 
 
The Marriage Contract. 177 
 
 dred thousand francs for you; you can pay your prin- 
 cipal debts, and sell what property you have left with 
 a power of redemption, for you will soon obtain an 
 office which will enable you by degrees to pay off your 
 creditors. Then, as for your wife, once enlightened 
 as to her character you can rule her. When you loved 
 her you had no power to manage her; not loving her, 
 you will have an unconquerable force. I will under- 
 take, myself, to make your mother-in-law as supple as 
 a glove ; for you must recover the use of the hundred 
 and fifty thousand francs a year those two women have 
 squeezed out of you. 
 
 Therefore, I say, renounce this expatriation which 
 seems to me no better than a pan of charcoal or a 
 pistol to your head. To go away is to justify all 
 calumnies. The gambler who leaves the table to get 
 his money loses it when he returns ; we must have our 
 gold in our pockets. Let us now, you and I, be two 
 gamblers on the green baize of politics; between us 
 loans are in order. Therefore take post-horses, come 
 back instantly, and renew the game. You '11 win it 
 with Henri de Marsay for your partner, for Henri de 
 Marsay knows how to will, and how to strike. 
 
 See how we stand politically. My father is in the 
 British ministry; we shall have close relations with 
 Spain through the Evangelistas, for, as soon as your 
 mother-in-law and I have measured claws she will find 
 there is nothing to gain by fighting the devil. Mon- 
 triveau is our lieutenant-general; he will certainly 
 be minister of war before long, and his eloquence will 
 give him great ascendency in the Chamber. Ron- 
 
 querolles will be minister of State and privy-coun- 
 
 12 
 
178 The Marriage Contract. 
 
 cillor; Martial de la Roche-Hugon is minister to 
 Germany and peer of France ; Serisy leads the Coun- 
 cil of State, to which he is indispensable; Granville 
 holds the magistracy, to which his sons belong; the 
 Grandlieus stand well at court; Ferraud is the soul 
 of the Gondreville coterie, — low intriguers who are 
 always on the surface of things, I 'm sure I don't 
 know why. Thus supported, what have we to fear? 
 The money question is a mere nothing when this great 
 wheel of fortune rolls for us. What is a woman? — 
 you are not a schoolboy. What is life, my dear fel- 
 low, if you let a woman be the whole of it? A boat 
 you can't command, without a rudder, but not with- 
 out a magnet, and tossed by every wind that blows. 
 Pah! 
 
 The great secret of social alchemy, my dear Paul, is 
 to get the most we can out of each age of life through 
 which we pass; to have and to hold the buds of our 
 spring, the flowers of our summer, the fruits of our 
 autumn. We amused ourselves once, a few good fel- 
 lows and I, for a dozen or more years, like mousque- 
 taires, black, red, and gray; we denied ourselves 
 nothing, not even an occasional filibustering here and 
 there. Now we are going to shake down the plums 
 which age and experience have ripened. Be one of 
 us; you shall have your share in the pudding we are 
 going to cook. 
 
 Come ; you will find a friend all yours in the skin of 
 
 H. de Marsay. 
 
 As Paul de Manerville ended the reading: of this 
 letter, which fell like the blows of a pickaxe on the 
 
The Marriage Contract. 179 
 
 edifice of bis hopes, his illusions, and his love, the ves- 
 sel which bore him from France was beyond the 
 Azores. In the midst of this utter devastation a cold 
 and impotent anger laid hold of him. 
 
 " What had I done to them ? " he said to himself. 
 
 That is the question of fools, of feeble beings, who, 
 seeing nothing, can nothing foresee. Then he cried 
 aloud: "Henri! Henri!" to his loyal friend. Many 
 a man would have gone mad; Paul went to bed and 
 slept that heavy sleep which follows immense disas- 
 ters, — the sleep that seized Napoleon after Waterloo. 
 
A DOUBLE LIFE. 
 
A DOUBLE LIFE. 
 
 To Madame la Comtesse Louise de Turheim, 
 
 As A MARK OP REMEMBRANCE AND AFFECTIONATE RESPECT 
 FROM HER HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 De Balzac. 
 I. 
 
 THE SECOND LIFE. 
 
 The rue du Tourniquet-Saint-Jean, formerly one of 
 the darkest and most tortuous streets of the old quar- 
 ter of Paris which encircles the Hotel-de-Ville, wound 
 round the little gardens of the prefecture till it ended 
 in the rue du Martroi at the angle of an old wall, now 
 pulled down. Here could be seen the turnstile to 
 which the street owed its name, a relic of the past 
 that was not destroyed until 1823, when the city of 
 Paris caused to be constructed on the site of a little 
 garden belonging to the H6tel-de-Ville a splendid 
 ball-room for the fete given to the Due d'Angouleme 
 on his return from Spain. 
 
 The widest part of the rue du Tourniquet was near 
 its junction with the rue de la Tixeranderie, where 
 it was only five feet wide. Consequently, in rainy 
 weather the blackened water of the gutter washed the 
 feet of the old houses, bringing along with it the filth 
 and refuse deposited by each household at the various 
 
184 A Double Life, 
 
 posts along the street. The carts for tbe removal of 
 such rubbish could not enter the narrow way, and the 
 dwellers thereon reckoned upon the storms of heaven 
 to cleanse their ever-muddy street — though it never 
 could be clean. When the summer sun struck ver- 
 tically down, a line of gold, sharp as the blade of a 
 sabre, illuminated momentarily the darkness of the 
 street, but without drying the perpetual dampness 
 which reigned from the ground-floor to the next floor 
 of these dark and silent houses. 
 
 The inhabitants, who lighted their lamps at five 
 o'clock in the month of June, never put them out in 
 winter. Even to-day, if some courageous pedestrian 
 ventures to go from the Marais to the quays by taking, 
 at the end of the rue du Chaume, the several streets 
 named L'Homme Arme, Des Billettes, and Des Deux- 
 Portes, which lead into that of the Tourniquet-Saint- 
 Jean, he will fancy he has been walking through a 
 crypt or cellar. 
 
 Nearly all the streets of the old Paris resembled 
 this damp and sombre labyrinth, where antiquaries 
 can still find several historical singularities to admire. 
 For instance, when the house which stood at the cor- 
 ner of the rue du Tourniquet and the rue de la Tixer- 
 anderie still existed, observers would have noticed 
 two heavy iron rings built into the wall, a remnant of 
 the chains which the watchman of the quarter put up 
 each night as a measure of public safety. 
 
 This house, remarkable for its antiquity, had been 
 built with precautions which fully proved the unhealth- 
 iness of these old dwellings ; for, in order to sweeten 
 the ground-floor, the walls of the cellar were raised 
 
A Double Life, 185 
 
 fully two feet above the level of the soil, which neces- 
 sitated a rise of three steps in order to enter the house. 
 The door-casing described a semicircular arch, the 
 apex of which was adorned with the carving of a 
 woman's head and sundry arabesques, much injured 
 by time. Three windows, the sills of which were 
 about on a level with a man's head, belonged to a 
 small apartment on the ground-floor looking on the 
 rue du Tourniquet. These windows were protected by 
 strong iron bars placed far apart, ending in a round 
 projection like those of a baker's grating. 
 
 If any inquisitive pedestrian had cast his eyes upon 
 the two rooms of this apartment in the daytime, he 
 could have seen nothing within them ; a July sun was 
 needed to distinguish in the second room two beds 
 draped with green serge under the panelled ceiling of 
 an old alcove. But in the afternoons, toward three 
 o'clock, when a lamp was lighted, it was possible to 
 see through the window of the first room an old woman 
 sitting on a stool at the corner of a fireplace, where she 
 was, at that hour, stirring something in a chafing-dish 
 which resembled those stews that Parisian portresses 
 know so well how to concoct. A few kitchen utensils 
 hanginsf on the wall at the end of this room could be 
 seen in the half-light. An old table, standing on 
 three legs and devoid of linen, held knives and forks 
 and pewter plates, and, presently, the dish which the 
 old crone was cooking. Three miserable chairs fur- 
 nished the room, which served the inhabitants for 
 kitchen and dining-room. Over the fireplace was a 
 fragment of mirror, a tinder-box, three glasses, some 
 sulphur matches, and a large white pot, much cracked. 
 
186 A Double Life, 
 
 The tiled floor of the hearth, the utensils, the fireplace, 
 were pleasing to the eye from the evident spirit of 
 neatness and economy which reigned in that cold, dark 
 home. 
 
 The pale and wrinkled face of the old woman was in 
 keeping with the gloom of the street and the mould i- 
 ness of the building. One might have thought, to see 
 her seated in her chair when doing nothing, that she 
 stuck to the house as a snail to its shell. Her face, 
 in which a vague expression of malice underlay an 
 assumed good-humor, was topped by a flat tulle cap, 
 which scarcely covered her white hair; her large gray 
 eyes were as still as the street, and the many wrinkles 
 on her skin might be compared to the cracks and 
 crevices of the walls. Whether she was born to 
 poverty, or whether she had fallen from some better 
 estate, she now seemed long resigned to her melan- 
 choly existence. From sunrise till evening, except 
 while preparing the meals, or, basket in hand, she 
 went out for provisions, this old creature spent her 
 time in the adjoining room, before the third window 
 and opposite to a young girl. 
 
 At all hours of the day this young girl, sitting in an 
 old arm-chair covered with red velvet, her head bent 
 down over an embroidery-frame, worked industriously. 
 Her mother had a green tambour-frame on her lap and 
 seemed to be making tulle; but her fingers moved the 
 bobbins stiffly, and her sight was evidently failing, 
 for her nose, of three-score years and over, bore a pair 
 of those old-fashioned spectacles which hold to the tips 
 of the nostrils according to the force with which they 
 are pinched on. At night, these two laborious creatures 
 
A Double Life. 187 
 
 placed a lamp between them; the light of which, fall- 
 ing through two glass globes filled with water, threw 
 a strong ray upon their work, which enabled the old 
 woman to see the looser strands of the bobbins of her 
 tambour, and the young girl the more delicate parts of 
 the pattern she was embroidering. 
 
 The curve of the iron bars had enabled the girl to 
 put on the sill of the window a long wooden box 
 filled with earth ; in which were vegetating sweet-peas, 
 nasturtiums, a sickly honeysuckle, and a few convol- 
 ving whose weakly tendrils were clinging to the bars. 
 These etiolated plants produced a few pale flowers; 
 another feature strangely in keeping, which mingled 
 I scarcely know what of sweetness and of sadness in 
 the picture, framed by the window, of those toiling 
 figures. A mere glance at that interior would have 
 given the most self-absorbed pedestrian a perfect 
 image of the life led by the work- women of Paris; 
 for it was evident that the girl lived solely by her 
 needle. Many persons reaching the turnstile had won- 
 dered how any young creature living in that noisome 
 place could have kept the bright colors of youth. The 
 lively imagination of a student on his way to the 
 "pays latin" might have compared this dark and 
 vegetative life to that of ivy draping a cold stone- 
 wall, or to that of peasants born to toil, who labor 
 and die ignored by the world they have contributed to 
 feed. A man of property said to himself as he looked 
 at the house with the eye of an owner : — 
 
 "What would become of those two women if em- 
 broidery should go out of fashion ? " 
 
 Among the persons whose duty took them at fixed 
 
188 A Double Life. 
 
 hours through this narrow way, either to the Hotel de 
 Ville or to the Palais, some might perhaps have been 
 found, whose interest in the sight would take a more 
 selfish view of it; some widower, perhaps, or some 
 elderly Adonis might have thought that the evident 
 distress of the mother aud daughter would make the 
 inuocent work-girl a cheap and easy bargain. Or per- 
 haps some worthy clerk with a salary of twelve hun- 
 dred francs a year, the daily witness of the girl's 
 industrious ardor, might have reckoned from that the 
 purity of her life and have dreamed of uniting one 
 obscure life to another obscure life, one plodding toil 
 to another as laborious, — bringing at any rate the arm 
 of a man to sustain existence, and a peaceful love, 
 colorless as the flowers in the window. 
 
 Such vague hopes did at times brighten the dull 
 gray eyes of the old mother. In the morning, after 
 their humble breakfast, she would take her tambour- 
 frame (more for appearances, it would seem, than for 
 actual work, because she laid down her spectacles on 
 the table beside her) and proceeded to watch from 
 half-past eight to about ten o'clock all the habitual 
 passers through the street at that hour. She noted 
 their glances; made observations on their demeanor, 
 their dress, their countenances; she seemed to bargain 
 with them for her daughter, so eagerly did her keen 
 eyes seek to open communications, by manoeuvres like 
 those behind the scenes of a theatre. To her this 
 morning review was indeed a play; perhaps it was 
 her only pleasure. 
 
 The daughter seldom raised her head: modesty, or 
 perhaps the painful sense of poverty, kept her eyes 
 
A Double Life. 189 
 
 closely fixed upon her work; so that sometimes, in 
 order to make her show her face to a passer in the 
 street, her mother would give a cry of surprise. A 
 clerk with a new overcoat, or an habitual passer 
 appearing with a woman on his arm might then have 
 beheld the slightly turned-up nose of the little work- 
 girl, her rosy mouth, and her gray eyes, sparkling 
 with life in spite of her crushing toil. Those wakeful, 
 laborious nights were only shown by the more or less 
 white circle beneath the eyes on the fresh, pure skin 
 above the cheek-bones. The poor young thing seemed 
 born for love and gayety, — for love, which had 
 painted above her rounded e} r elids two perfect arches, 
 and had given her such a forest of chestnut hair that 
 she might have hidden her whole person under its 
 impenetrable veil ; for gayety, which moved her ex- 
 pressive nostrils, and made two dimples in her glow- 
 ing cheeks, — for ga} T ety, that flower of hope, which 
 gave her strength to look without faltering at the 
 barren path of life before her. 
 
 The beautiful hair of the girl was always carefully 
 arranged. Like all other work-women of Paris, she 
 thought her toilet complete when she had braided 
 and smoothed her hair and had twirled into circles the 
 two little locks on either side of the temples, the effect 
 of which was to set off the whiteness of her skin. 
 The way her hair grew upon her head was so full of 
 grace, the bistre line clearly defined upon her neck 
 gave so charming an idea of her youth and its attrac- 
 tions, that an observer beholding her as she bent over 
 her work, not raising her head at any noise, would 
 have put down such apparent unconsciousness to 
 coquetry. 
 
190 A Double Life. 
 
 "Caroline, there 's a new regular man! none of the 
 old ones compare with him." 
 
 These words, said in a low voice by the mother one 
 morning in the month of August, 1815, conquered, 
 apparently, the indifference of the girl, for she looked 
 into the street; but the new man was nearly out of 
 sight. 
 
 "Which way did he go? " she asked. 
 
 "He '11 be back, no doubt, about four o'clock. I 
 shall see him coming and I '11 kick your foot. I 'm 
 certain he '11 come back, for it is now three days since 
 he took to coming through the street. But he is n't 
 regular as to time. The first day he came at six, next 
 day it was four, yesterday five. I am sure I have 
 seen him at some time or other, elsewhere. I dare say 
 he's a clerk at the prefecture who has gone to live 
 in the Marais — Oh, look here ! " she added, after 
 glancing into the street, "our monsieur with the brown 
 coat has taken to a wig ! Heavens ! how it does change 
 him ! " 
 
 The monsieur with the brown coat must have been 
 the last of the habitues who formed the daily proces- 
 sion, for the old mother now put on her spectacles, 
 resumed her work with a sigh, and looked at her 
 daughter with so singular an expression that Lavater 
 himself would have been puzzled to analyze it, — 
 admiration, gratitude, a sort of hope for better things, 
 mingled with the pride of possessing so pretty a 
 daughter. 
 
 That evening, about four o'clock, the old woman 
 pushed the girl's foot, and Caroline raised her head 
 in time to see the new actor whose periodical passing 
 
A Double Life. 191 
 
 was now to enliven the scene of their lives. Tall, 
 thin, pale, and dressed in black, the man, who was 
 about forty years old, had something solemn in his 
 gait and demeanor. When his tawny, piercing eye 
 met the curious glance of the old woman, it made 
 her tremble; and she fancied he had the gift, or the 
 habit, of reading hearts. Certainly his first aspect 
 was chilling as the air itself of that gloomy street. 
 
 Was the cadaverous, discolored complexion of that 
 haggard face the result of excessive toil, or the 
 product of enfeebled health? This problem was solved 
 by the old mother in a score of different ways. But 
 the next day, Caroline divined at once that the 
 wrinkled brow bore signs of long-continued men- 
 tal suffering. The slightly hollowed cheeks of the 
 stranger bore an imprint of that seal with which mis- 
 fortune marks its vassals, as if to leave them the con- 
 solation of recognizing one another with fraternal eye, 
 and uniting together to resist it. 
 
 The warmth of the weather happened at this moment 
 to be so great, and the stranger was so absent-minded, 
 that he omitted to put on his hat while passing through 
 the unhealthy street. Caroline then noticed the stern 
 aspect given to the face by the cut of the hair, which 
 stood up from his forehead like a brush. Though the 
 girl's eyes were first brightened by innocent curiosity, 
 they took a tender expression of sympathy and pity 
 as the stranger passed on, like the last mourner in a 
 funeral procession. 
 
 The strong, but not pleasing, impression felt by 
 Caroline at the sight of this man resembled none of 
 the sensations which the other habitual passers had 
 
192 A Double Life. 
 
 conveyed to her. For the first time in her life her 
 compassion was aroused for another than her mother 
 and herself. She made no reply to the fanciful conjec- 
 tures which furnished food for the irritating loquacity 
 of the old woman, but silently drew her long needle 
 above and below the tulle in her frame; she regretted 
 that she had not seen more of the unknown man, and 
 waited until the morrow to make up her mind more 
 decisively about him. For the first time, too, a passer 
 beneath the window had suggested reflections to her 
 mind. Usually she replied with a quiet smile to the 
 various suppositions of her mother, who was always 
 in hopes of finding a protector for her child among 
 these strangers. If such ideas, imprudently expressed, 
 awoke no evil thoughts in the girl's mind, we must 
 attribute Caroline's indifference to the cruelly hard 
 work which consumed the forces of her precious youth, 
 and must infallibly change ere long the limpid light 
 of her eyes and ravish from those fair cheeks the 
 tender color which still brightened them. 
 
 For two whole months the "black monsieur" — 
 such was the name they gave him — passed through the 
 street almost daily, but capriciously as to time. The 
 old woman often saw him at night when he had not 
 passed in the morning; also he never returned at the 
 fixed hours of other employees, who served as clocks 
 to Madame Crochard, and never, since the first day 
 when his glance had inspired the old mother with a 
 sort of terror, had his eyes appeared to take notice of 
 the picturesque group of the two female gnomes, — an 
 indifference which piqued Madame Crochard who was 
 not pleased to see her "black monsieur " gravely pre- 
 
A Double Life. 193 
 
 occupied, walking with his eyes on the ground or 
 looking straight in front of him, as if he were trying 
 to read the future in the damp mists of the rue du 
 Tourniquet. 
 
 However, one morning toward the last of Septem- 
 ber, the pretty head of Caroline Crochard stood out so 
 brilliantly on the dark background of her dingy cham- 
 ber, and she looked so fresh among her spindling 
 flowers and the sparse foliage that twined about the 
 bars of the window, — the scene, in short, presented 
 so many contrasts of light and shade, of white and 
 rose, blending so well with the muslin the girl was 
 embroidering and the tones of the old velvet chair 
 in which she sat, — that the unknown pedestrian did 
 look attentively at the effects of this living picture. 
 Madame Crochard, weary of the indifference of her 
 black gentleman, had, in truth, taken the step of 
 making such a clatter with her reels and bobbins that 
 the gloomy, thoughtful stranger was perhaps com- 
 pelled by this unusual noise to look up at the 
 window. 
 
 He exchanged one glance with Caroline, rapid, it is 
 true, but in it their souls came slightly in contact, and 
 they each were conscious of a presentiment that they 
 should think of one another. That evening when the 
 stranger returned, about four o'clock, Caroline distin- 
 guished the sound of his step upon the pavement, and 
 when they looked at each other they did so with a 
 species of premeditation; the eyes of the stranger 
 were brightened with an expression of benevolence, 
 and he smiled, while Caroline blushed. The old 
 mother watched them both with a satisfied air. 
 
 13 
 
194 A Double Life. 
 
 After that memorable morning the black monsieur 
 passed through the rue du Tourniquet twice every day, 
 with a few exceptions which the two women noted; 
 they judged, from the irregularity of his hours of 
 return that he was neither so quickly released nor so 
 strictly punctual as a subaltern clerk would be. 
 
 During the first three winter months, Caroline and 
 the stranger saw each other twice a day for the length 
 of time which it took him to walk the distance flanked 
 by the door and the three windows of the house. 
 Daily this brief interview took on more and more a 
 character of benevolent intimacy, until it ended in 
 something that was almost fraternal. Caroline and 
 the stranger seemed from the first to understand each 
 other; and then, by dint of examining one another's 
 faces a deeper knowledge of their characters came 
 about. The meeting became a sort of visit which the 
 stranger paid to Caroline; if, by chance, her black 
 monsieur passed without giving her the half-formed 
 smile on his eloquent lips or the friendly glance of his 
 brown eyes, something was lacking to her day. She 
 was like those old men to whom the reading of their 
 newspaper becomes such a pleasure that if some acci- 
 dent delays it they are wholly upset at missing the 
 printed sheet which helps them for an instant to cheat 
 the void of their dreary existence. 
 
 These fugitive meetings soon had, both to Caroline 
 and to the unknown man, the interest and charm of 
 familiar conversation between friends. The young 
 girl could no more conceal from the intelligent eye 
 of her silent friend an anxiety, an illness, a sad 
 thought, than he could hide from her the presence in 
 
A Double Life. 195 
 
 his mind of some painful preoccupation. "Something 
 troubled him yesterday," was a thought that often 
 came into the girl's heart as she noticed a strained 
 look on the face of her black gentleman. "Oh! he 
 must have been working too hard ! " was another ex- 
 clamation caused by other signs and shadows that 
 Caroline had learned to distinguish. 
 
 The stranger, on his side, seemed to know when the 
 girl had spent her Sunday in finishing a lace dress, in 
 the design of which he felt an interest. He saw how the 
 pretty face darkened as the rent-day came round ; he 
 knew when Caroline had been sitting up all night; 
 but more especially did he notice how the sad thoughts 
 now beginning to tarnish the freshness and the gayety 
 of that young face were dissipated little by little as 
 their unspoken acquaintance increased. 
 
 When winter dried the foliage and the tendrils of 
 the puny garden, and the window was closed, a smile 
 that was softly malicious came to the stranger's lips 
 as he saw the bright li°;ht in the room casting Caro- 
 line's reflection through the panes. An evident parsi- 
 mony as to fire, and the reddened noses of the two 
 women, revealed to him the indigence of the little 
 household; but if a pained compassion was reflected 
 in his eyes, Caroline proudly undermined it with a 
 feigned gayety. 
 
 But all this while the sentiments that were budding 
 in their hearts were buried there, and no event hap- 
 pened to teach them the strength or the extent of their 
 own feelings; they did not even know the sound of 
 each other's voices. These two mute friends avoided 
 a closer union as though it were an evil. Each seemed 
 
196 A Double Life. 
 
 to fear to bring upon the other a heavier misfortune 
 than those they each were bearing. Was it the reti- 
 cence of friendship that thus restrained them, or that 
 dread of selfishness, that atrocious distrust which puts a 
 barrier between all persons collected within the walls 
 of a crowded city ? Did the secret voice of their con- 
 sciences warn them of coming peril? It is wholly 
 impossible to explain the feeling which kept them 
 enemies even more than friends, seemingly as indiffer- 
 ent to each other as they were, in truth, attached ; as 
 much united by instinct as they were parted by fact. 
 Perhaps each was desirous of keeping both his and 
 her illusion. It almost seemed as though this name- 
 less black gentleman feared to hear from those fresh 
 lips, pure as a flower, some vulgar speech, and that 
 Caroline felt herself unworthy of that mysterious 
 being who bore to her eyes the unmistakable signs 
 of power and fortune. 
 
 As for Madame Crochard, that observant mother, 
 half angry at her daughter's indecision, began to 
 show a sulky face to her black monsieur, on whom she 
 had hitherto smiled with an air as complacent as it 
 was servile. Never did she bemoan herself to her 
 daughter so bitterly at the hard fate which obliged 
 her, at her age, to cook; never did her rheumatism 
 and her catarrh draw from her so manv moans. Her 
 state of mind was such that she failed to do, that 
 winter, the number of yards of tulle on which the poor 
 household counted. 
 
 Under these circumstances and toward the end of 
 December, when bread was becoming dearer and the 
 poor were already feeling that rise in the cost of 
 
A Double Life. 197 
 
 grains which made the year 1816 so cruel to poverty, 
 the unknown man observed on the face of the girl, 
 whose name was unknown to him, the traces of some 
 painful thought which her friendly smiles were unable 
 to chase away. He recognized also in her eyes the 
 weary indications of nocturnal labor. On one of the 
 last nights of the month he returned, contrary to cus- 
 tom, through the rue du Tourniquet-Saint- Jean about 
 one in the morning. The stillness of the hour enabled 
 him to hear, even before he reached the house, the 
 whining voice of the old woman, and the still more 
 distressing tones of the girl, the sound of which 
 mingled with the hissing sound of a fall of snow. 
 
 He walked slowly; then, at the risk of being 
 arrested, he crouched before the window to listen to 
 the mother and daughter, examining them through one 
 of the many holes in the muslin curtains. A legal 
 paper lay on the table which stood between their two 
 work-frames, on which were the lamp and the globes 
 of water. He recognized at once a summons of some 
 kind. Madame Crochard was weeping bitterly, and 
 the voice of the girl was guttural with her grief, com- 
 pletely changing its soft and caressing ring. 
 
 "Why make yourself so unhappy, mother? Mon- 
 sieur Moulineux will never sell our furniture, and he 
 cannot turn us out before I have finished this o-own. 
 Two nights more and I shall carry it to Madame 
 Roguin. " 
 
 "And she '11 make you wait for the money, as usual. 
 Besides, the price of that gown won't pay the baker, 
 too." 
 
 The spectator of this scene had so great a habit of 
 
198 A Double Life. 
 
 reading faces that he thought he saw as much hypoc- 
 risy in the mother's grief as there was truth iu the 
 daughter's. He disappeared at once; but presently 
 returned. Again he looked through the ragged mus- 
 lin. The mother had gone to bed. The girl was 
 bending over her frame with indefatigable energy. 
 On the table beside the summons lay a small piece of 
 bread cut in a triangle, meant, no doubt to support 
 her during the night, perhaps to sustain her courage. 
 The black gentleman shuddered with pity and with 
 pain ; he flung his purse through a hole in the window 
 that was covered with paper, in such a way that it fell 
 at the girl's feet. Then, without waiting to see her 
 surprise, he escaped, his heart beating, his cheeks on 
 fire. 
 
 The next day the sad and alien man passed by as 
 usual, affecting a preoccupied air. But he was not 
 allowed to escape the girl's gratitude. Caroline had 
 opened the window and was digging about the box 
 of earth with a knife, a pretext of ingenuous falsity 
 which proved to her benefactor that on this occasion 
 she was determined not to see him through glass. 
 With eyes full of tears she made a sign with her head 
 as if to say, "I can only pay you with my heart." 
 
 But the black gentleman seemed not to understand 
 the expression of this true gratitude. That evening, 
 when he passed again, Caroline was busy in pasting 
 another paper over the broken window and so was able 
 to smile to him, showing the enamel of her brilliant 
 teeth, like, as it were, a promise. From that day the 
 black gentleman took another road, and appeared no 
 more in the rue du Tourniquet. 
 
A Double Life. 199 
 
 During the first week of the following May, on a 
 Saturday morning, as Caroline was watering her 
 honeysuckle, she beheld between the two black lines 
 of houses a narrow strip of cloudless sky, and called 
 to her mother in the next room : — 
 
 "Mamma! let us go to-morrow for a day's pleasur- 
 ing at Montmorency! " 
 
 The words had scarcely left her lips when the black 
 monsieur passed, sadder and evidently more oppressed 
 than ever. The look of pleasure which Caroline gave 
 him might have passed for an invitation. In fact, 
 the next day, when Madame Crochard, arrayed in a 
 reddish-brown merino pelisse, a silk bonnet, and a 
 striped shawl made to imitate cashmere, went with 
 her daughter to choose a coucou at the corner of the 
 rue d'Enghien and the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis, 
 she found her black monsieur standing there, with 
 the air of a man who was waiting for a woman. 
 
 A smile of pleasure softened the face of the stranger 
 when he beheld Caroline, whose little feet, shod in 
 puce-colored prunella boots, appeared beneath her 
 white muslin gown, which, blown by the wind (too 
 often perfidious to ill-made forms), showed off her 
 beautiful figure, while her face, shaded by a straw hat 
 lined with pink, seemed illuminated by a ray from 
 heaven. A broad belt, also puce-colored, set off a 
 little waist he might have spanned between his fingers; 
 her hair, parted into two brown bandeaus round a 
 forehead white as milk, gave her an air of simple 
 purity which nothing marred. Pleasure seemed to 
 make her as light as the straw of her hat; but a hope 
 darted into her mind on seeing the black gentleman, 
 
200 A Double Life. 
 
 eclipsing all else. He himself appeared irresolute. 
 Perhaps the sudden revelation of joy on the girl's face 
 caused by his presence may have decided him, for he 
 turned and hired a cabriolet, with a fairly good horse, 
 to go to Saint-Leu-Taverny ; then he asked Madame 
 Crochard and her daughter to take seats in it. 
 
 The mother accepted without further urging; but no 
 sooner had the vehicle fairly started than she brought 
 forth scruples and regrets for the inconvenience that 
 two women would cause to their companion. 
 
 4 'Perhaps monsieur would rather go alone to Saint- 
 Leu ? " she said hypocritically. 
 
 Presently she complained of the heat, and especially 
 of her troublesome catarrh, which, she said, had kept 
 her awake all night, and the carriage had hardly 
 reached Saint-Denis before she was asleep, though 
 certain of her snores seemed doubtful to the black 
 monsieur, who frowned heavily and looked at the old 
 woman with singular suspicion. 
 
 "Oh! she's asleep," said Caroline, naively. u She 
 coughed all night, and must be tired." 
 
 For all answer, the gentleman cast a shrewd smile 
 upon the girl which seemed to mean : — 
 
 "Innocent creature! you don't know } T our mother." 
 
 However, in spite of- his distrust, by the time the 
 cabriolet was rolling along the avenue of poplars 
 which leads to Eau Bonne, the black gentleman 
 believed that Madame Crochard was really asleep; 
 perhaps, however, he no longer cared to know whether 
 the sleep was real or feigned. Whether it was that 
 the beauty of the skies, the pure country air, and those 
 delicious scents wafted by the budding poplars, the 
 
A Double Life. 201 
 
 willow catkins, the blossoms of the eglantine, had 
 inclined his heart to open and expand ; or that further 
 silence became irksome to him; or that the sparkling 
 eyes of the young girl were answering his, — it is cer- 
 tain that the black monsieur now began a conversa- 
 tion, as vague as the quivering of the foliage to the 
 breeze, as vagabond as the circlings of a butterfly, as 
 little without real motive as the voice, softly melo- 
 dious, of the fields, but marked, like Nature herself, 
 with mysterious love. 
 
 At this season the country quivers like a bride who 
 has just put on her bridal robes; it invites to pleasure 
 the coldest heart. To leave the darksome streets of 
 the Marais for the first time since the previous autumn, 
 and to find one's self suddenly in the bosom of that har- 
 monious and picturesque valley of Montmorency; to 
 pass through it in the morning when the eye can fol- 
 low the infinity of its horizons, and to turn from that 
 to an infinity of love in the eyes beside us, — what 
 heart will continue icy, what lips will keep their 
 secrets? 
 
 The unknown man found Caroline more gay than 
 clever, more loving than informed. But if her laugh 
 was a trifle giddy, her words bore evidence of true 
 feeling; and when to the leading questions of her 
 companion she replied with that effusion of the heart 
 which the lower classes lavish, when they feel it, 
 without the reticence of persons of good society, the 
 face of the black gentlemau brightened, and seemed, 
 as it were, reborn ; it lost by degrees the sadness that 
 contracted its features, and gradually, tint by tint, 
 it gained a look of youth and a character of beauty 
 
202 A Double Life. 
 
 which marie the young girl proud and happy. She 
 divined instinctively that her friend, deprived of ten- 
 derness and love, no longer believed in the devotion 
 of women. At last a sudden gush of Caroline's light 
 chatter carried off the last cloud which veiled on the 
 stranger's face his real youth and his native char- 
 acter; he seemed to come to some eternal divorce from 
 oppressive ideas, and he now displayed a vivacity of 
 heart which the solemnity of his face had hitherto 
 concealed. The talk became insensibly so familiar 
 that by the time the carriage stopped at the first 
 houses of the village of Saint-Leu Caroline was call- 
 ing her friend "Monsieur Roger." Then, for the first 
 time, Madame Crochard woke up. 
 
 "Caroline, she must have heard us," said Roger, 
 suspiciously, in the young girl's ear. 
 
 Caroline answered by a charming smile of in- 
 credulity, which dispersed the dark cloud brought by 
 the fear of a scheme to the forehead of the distrust- 
 ful man. Without expressing any surprise, Madame 
 Crochard approved of everything, and followed her 
 daughter and Monsieur Roger to the park of Saint- 
 Leu, where the pair had agreed to ramble about the 
 smiling meadows and the balmy groves which the taste 
 of Queen Hortense had rendered celebrated. 
 
 "Heavens! how lovely! " cried Caroline, when, hav- 
 ing reached the green brow of the hill where the forest 
 of Montmorency begins, she saw at her feet the vast 
 valley winding its serpentine way dotted with villages, 
 steeples, fields, and meadows, a murmur of which 
 came softly to her ear like the purling of waves, as her 
 eyes rested on the blue horizon of the distant hills. 
 
A Double Life. 203 
 
 The three excursionists followed the banks of an 
 artificial river until they reached the Swiss valley with 
 its chalet where Napoleon and Queen Hortense were 
 wont to stay. When Caroline had seated herself with 
 sacred respect upon the mossy wooden bench where 
 kings and princesses and the Emperor had reposed 
 themselves, Madame Crochard manifested a desire to 
 take a closer view of a suspension bridge between two 
 cliffs a little farther on. Wending her w r ay to that 
 rural curiosity she left her daughter to the care of 
 Monsieur Roger, remarking, however, that she should 
 not go out of sight. 
 
 "Poor little thing! " cried Roger, "have you never 
 known comfort or luxury? Don't you sometimes wish 
 to wear the pretty gowns you embroider? " 
 
 "I should n't be telling the truth, Monsieur Roger, 
 if I said I never thought of the happiness rich people 
 must enjoy. Yes, I do think often, specially when 
 asleep, of the pleasure it would be to see my poor 
 mother saved the trouble of going out to buy our food 
 and then preparing it at her age. I would like to 
 have a charwoman come in the morning before she is 
 out of bed, and make her a cup of coffee with plenty 
 of sugar, white sugar, in it. She likes to read novels, 
 poor dear woman! Well, I 'd rather she used her eyes 
 on her favorite reading than strain them counting bob- 
 bins from morning till night. Also, she really needs a 
 little good wine. I do wish I could see her happy, 
 she is so kind." 
 
 Then she has always been kind to you? " 
 'Oh, yes! " said the girl, in an earnest voice. 
 
 As they watched Madame Crochard, who had reached 
 
 44, 
 
204 A Double Life. 
 
 the middle of the bridge, and now shook her finger at 
 them, Caroline continued : — 
 
 "Oh, yes! she has always been kind to me. What 
 care she gave me when I was little! She sold her last 
 forks and spoons to apprentice me to the old maid 
 who taught me to embroider. And my poor father! 
 she took such pains to make him happy in his last 
 days ! " 
 
 At this remembrance the girl shuddered, and put 
 her hands before her eyes. 
 
 "Bah! don't let us think of past troubles," she 
 resumed, gayly. 
 
 Then she colored, perceiving that Roger was much 
 affected, but she dared not look at him. 
 
 "What did your father do? " asked Eoger. 
 
 "He was a dancer at the Opera before the Revolu- 
 tion," she replied, with the simplest air in the world, 
 "and my mother sang in the chorus. My father, who 
 managed the evolutions on the stage, chanced to be 
 present at the taking of the Bastille. He was recog- 
 nized by some of the assailants, who asked him if he 
 could n't lead a real attack as he had led so many 
 sham ones at the theatre. Father was brave, and he 
 agreed; he led the insurgents, and was rewarded with 
 the rank of captain in the army of the Sambre-et- 
 Meuse, where he behaved in such a way that he was 
 rapidly promoted and became a colonel. But he was 
 terribly wounded at Lutzen, and returned to Paris to 
 die, after a year's illness. The Bourbons came back, 
 and of course my mother could not get a pension, and 
 we fell into such dreadful poverty that we had to work 
 for our living. Of late the poor dear woman has been 
 
ti- 
 lt' 
 
 A Double Life. 205 
 
 ailing; and she isn't as resigned as she used to be; 
 she complains, and I don't wonder, — she, who once 
 had all the comforts of an easy life. As for me, I 
 can't regret comforts I never had ; but there 's one 
 thing I do hope Heaven will grant me." 
 
 What is that? " asked Roger, who seemed dreamy. 
 ; That ladies will always wear embroidered gowns, 
 so that I shall never want work." 
 
 The frankness of these avowals interested her hearer 
 so much that when Madame Crochard slowly returned 
 to them, he looked at her with an eye that was less 
 hostile. 
 
 "Well, my children, have you had a good talk?" 
 she asked, in a tone both indulgent and sly. "When 
 one thinks, Monsieur Roger, that ' the little corporal ' 
 sat on that bench where you are sitting!" she con- 
 tinued, after a moment's silence. "Poor man! how 
 my husband loved him! Ah! it is a good thing 
 Crochard died; he never could have borne to think 
 of him at that place where those others have put him." 
 
 Roger laid a finger on his lips, and the old woman, 
 nodding her head, said, gravely : — 
 
 "Enough; I '11 keep a dead tongue in my head and 
 my lips tight. But," she added, opening the front 
 of her dress, and showing the cross of the Legion of 
 honor and its red ribbon fastened to her throat with 
 a black bow, "nothing can prevent me from wearing 
 what he gave to my poor Crochard; I mean to be 
 buried with it." 
 
 Hearing these words, which at that time were held 
 to be seditious, Roger interrupted the old woman by 
 rising abruptly, and they started to return to the vil- 
 
206 A Double Life. 
 
 lage through the park. The young man absented 
 himself for a few moments to order a meal at the best 
 restaurant, then he returned to fetch the two women, 
 guiding them along the paths through the forest. 
 
 The dinner was gay. Roger was no longer that 
 gloomy shadow which for months had passed through 
 the rue du Tourniquet; no longer the "black mon- 
 sieur," but rather a hopeful young man read}' to let 
 himself float upon the current of life like the two 
 women who were happy in the day's enjoyment, though 
 the morrow might find them without food. He seemed, 
 indeed, to be under the influence of the joys of youth; 
 his smile had something caressing and childlike about 
 it. When, at five o'clock, the pleasant dinner came 
 to an end with a few glasses of champagne, Roger 
 was the first to propose that they should go to the 
 village ball, under the chestnut-trees, where he and 
 Caroline danced together. Their hands met in one 
 thought, their hearts beat with the same hope, and 
 beneath that azure sky, glowing toward the west with 
 the level rays of the setting sun, their glances had a 
 brilliancy which, to each other's heart, paled even 
 that of the heaven above them. Strange power of a 
 thought and a desire! nothing seemed impossible to 
 these two beings. In such magic moments, when 
 pleasure casts its reflections on the future, the soul 
 can see naught but happiness. This charming day 
 had created for both of them memories to which they 
 could compare no other experience of their lives. Is 
 the spring more perfect than the current, the desire 
 more ravishing than its fulfilment? is the thing hoped- 
 for more attractive than the thing possessed? 
 
A Double Life. 207 
 
 "There 's our clay already over! " 
 
 At this exclamation which escaped the young man 
 when the dance ended, Caroline looked at him com- 
 passionately, for she saw the sadness beginning again 
 to cloud his face. 
 
 " Why are you not as happy in Paris as you have 
 been here?" she said. "Is there no happiness except 
 at Saint-Leu? It seems to me I can never again be 
 discontented anywhere." 
 
 Roger quivered at those words, dictated by the soft 
 abandonment which often leads women farther than 
 they mean to go, — just as, on the other hand, prudery 
 makes them stiffer than they really are. For the first 
 time since that look which began their intimacy, 
 Caroline and Roger had one and the same thought. 
 Though they did not express it, they each felt it by a 
 mutual impression something like that of the warmth 
 of a glowing hearth beneficently comforting in winter. 
 Then, as if they feared their silence, they hastened to 
 the place where their vehicle awaited them. But be- 
 fore they reached it they took each other by the hand 
 and ran along a wood-path in advance of Madame 
 Crochard. When the white of the old woman's tulle 
 cap was no longer visible through the foliage, Roger 
 turned to the girl and said, with a troubled voice and 
 a beating heart: — 
 
 "Caroline?" 
 
 The girl, confused, stepped back a few paces, 
 understanding the desires that interrogation implied; 
 nevertheless she held out her hand, whicli was ardently 
 kissed, though she quickly withdrew it, for at that 
 moment her mother came in sight. Madame Crochard 
 
208 A Double Life. 
 
 pretended to have seen nothing, as if, remembering 
 her stage experience, the scene was only an aside. 
 
 The history of Roger and Caroline does not continue 
 in the rue du Tourniquet ; to meet them again we must 
 go to the very centre of modern Paris, where, among 
 the newly built houses, there are found apartments 
 which seem expressly made for the honeymoon of 
 bridal couples. The paper and painting are as fresh 
 as they; the decoration, like their love, is in its 
 bloom ; all is in harmony with young ideas and bound- 
 ing desires. About the middle of the rue Taitbout, in 
 a house where the copings were still white, the col- 
 umns of the vestibule and the door unsoiled, the walls 
 shining with that coquettish paint which our renewed 
 relations with England brought into fashion, was a 
 little apartment on the second floor, arranged by an 
 architect as if he had foreseen the uses to which it 
 would be put. A simple airy antechamber with a 
 stucco wainscot gave entrance to a salon and a very 
 small dining-room. The salon communicated with a 
 pretty bedchamber, beyond which was a bathroom. 
 The mantels were adorned with mirrors choicely 
 framed. The doors were painted with arabesques 
 in excellent taste, and the style of the cornices was 
 pure. An amateur would have recognized, better 
 there than elsewhere, that science of arrangement and 
 decoration which distinguishes the work of our modern 
 architects. 
 
 For the last month Caroline had occupied this pretty 
 apartment, which was furnished by upholsterers under 
 direction of the architect. A short description of the 
 principal room will give an idea of the marvels this 
 
A Double Life. 209 
 
 apartment presented to Caroline's eyes when Roger 
 brought her there. 
 
 Hangings of gray cloth enlivened by green silk 
 trimmings covered the walls of the bedroom. The 
 furniture, upholstered with pale-green cassimere, was 
 of that light and graceful shape then coming into 
 fashion. A bureau of native wood inlaid with some 
 darker wood held the treasures of the trousseau; a 
 secretary of the same, a bed with antique drapery, 
 curtains of gray silk with green fringes, a bronze 
 clock representing Cupid crowning Psyche, and a car- 
 pet with gothic designs on a reddish ground were the 
 principal features of this place of delight. Opposite 
 to a psyche mirror stood a charming toilet-table, in 
 front of which sat the ex-embroidery girl, very impa- 
 tient with the scientific labor of Plaisir, the famous 
 coiffeur, who was dressing her hair. 
 
 "Do you expect to get it done to-day?" she was 
 saying. 
 
 " Madame' s hair is so long and thick," responded 
 Plaisir. 
 
 Caroline could not help smiling. The flattery of 
 the artistic hair-dresser reminded her, no doubt, of 
 the passionate admiration expressed by her friend for 
 the beautiful hair he idolized. When Plaisir had 
 departed, Caroline's maid came to hold counsel with 
 her mistress as to which dress was most likely to 
 please Roger. It was then the beginning of Septem- 
 ber, 1816; a dress of green grenadine trimmed with 
 chinchilla was finally chosen. 
 
 As soon as her toilet was over Caroline darted into 
 the salon, opened a window looking upon the street, 
 
 14 
 
210 A Double Life. 
 
 and went out upon the elegant little balcony which 
 adorned the facade of the house ; there she folded her 
 arms on the railing in a charming attitude, not taken 
 to excite the admiration of the passers who frequently 
 turned to look at her, but to fix her eyes on the boulevard 
 at the end of the rue Taitbout. This glimpse, which 
 might be compared to the hole in a stage-curtain through 
 which the actors see the audience, enabled her to watch 
 the multitude of elegant carriages and the crowds of 
 people carried past that one spot like the rapid slide of 
 a magic lantern. Uncertain whether Roger would come 
 on foot or in a carriage, the former lodger in the rue 
 du Tourniquet examined in turn the pedestrians and 
 the tilbury s, a light style of phaeton recently brought 
 to France by the English. Expressions of love and 
 mutinous provocation crossed her face when, after 
 watching for half an hour, neither heart nor sight had 
 shown her the person for whom she waited. What 
 contempt, what indifference was on her pretty face for 
 all the other beings who were hurrying along like ants 
 beneath her! Her gray eyes, sparkling with mischief, 
 were dazzling. Wholly absorbed, in her passion, she 
 avoided the admiration of others with as much care as 
 some women take to obtain it; and she troubled her- 
 self not at all as to whether a remembrance of her 
 white figure leaning on the balcony should or should 
 not disappear on the morrow from the minds of the 
 passers who were now admiring her; she saw but one 
 form, and she had in her head but one idea. 
 
 When the dappled head of a certain horse turned 
 from the boulevard into the street, Caroline quivered 
 and stood on tiptoe, trying to recognize the white 
 
A Double Life. 211 
 
 reins and the color of the tilbury. Yes, it was he! 
 Roger, as he turned the corner, looked toward the 
 balcony and whipped his horse and soon reached the 
 bronze door, with which the animal was now as famil- 
 iar as its master. The door of the apartment was 
 opened by the maid, who had heard her mistress's cry 
 of pleasure. Roger rushed into the salon, took Caro- 
 line in his arms, and kissed her with that effusion of 
 feeling which accompanies the rare meetings of two 
 creatures who love each other. Then they sat down 
 together on a sofa before the fire, and silently looked 
 at one another, — expressing their happiness only by 
 the close grasp of their hands, and communicating their 
 thoughts through their eyes. 
 
 "Yes, it is he! " she said at last. "Yes, it is you! 
 Do you know that it is three whole days since I Inst 
 saw you? — an age! But what is the matter? I know 
 you have some trouble on your mind." 
 My poor Caroline — " 
 Oh, nonsense! poor Caroline — " 
 Don't laugh, my angel; we can't go to-night to 
 the Feydeau." 
 
 Caroline made a face of discontent, which faded 
 instantly. . 
 
 "How silly of me! why should I care about the 
 theatre when I have you here. To see you! is n't that 
 the only play I care for? " she cried, passing her hand 
 through his hair. 
 
 "I am obliged to dine with the attorney-general. 
 We have a most troublesome affair on hand. He met 
 me in the great hall of the Palais ; and as I open the 
 case, he asked me to dinner that we might talk it 
 
 14" 
 
 "l 
 
212 A Double Life. 
 
 over previously. But, my darling, you can take your 
 mother to the Feydeau and I '11 join you there, if the 
 conference ends early." 
 
 "Go to the theatre without you! " she cried, with 
 an expression of astonishment; "enjoy a pleasure you 
 can't share! Oh, Roger, you don't deserve to be 
 kissed," she added, throwing her arm round his neck 
 with a motion as naive as it was seductive. 
 
 "Caroline, I must go now, for I have to dress, and 
 it takes so long to reach the Marais; besides, I have 
 business that must be finished before dinner." 
 
 "Monsieur," said Caroline, "take care what you 
 say ! My mother assures me that when men begin to 
 talk to us of business that means they no longer love 
 
 us." 
 
 "But, Caroline, 1 did come as I promised; I 
 snatched this hour from my pitiless — " 
 
 "Oh, hush! " she said, putting her finger on his 
 lips; "hush! don't you see that I was joking?" 
 
 At this moment Roger's eye lighted on an article of 
 furniture brought that morning by the upholsterer, — 
 the old rosewood embroidery-frame the product of 
 which supported Caroline and her mother when they 
 lived in the rue du Tourniquet-Saint-Jean, — which 
 had just been "done-up " like new, and on it a very 
 beautiful tulle dress was already stretched. 
 
 "Yes, look at it, dear friend! I shall work to- 
 night; and while I work I shall be thinking of those 
 first days and weeks and months when you passed me 
 without a word — but not without a look! those days 
 when the memory of a look kept me awake at night. 
 Oh! my dear frame, the handsomest bit of furniture 
 
A Double Life. 213 
 
 in the room, though you did not give it to me. Ah! 
 you don't know!" she continued, seating herself on 
 Roger's knee. "Listen! I want to give to the poor 
 all I can now earn by embroidery. You have made 
 me so rich, I want for nothing. How I love that dear 
 property of Bellefeuille! less for what it is, however, 
 than because you gave it to me. But tell me, Roger; 
 I should like to call myself Caroline de Bellefeuille; 
 can I ? you ought to know. Is it legal or allowable ? n 
 
 Seeing the little nod of affirmation to which Roger 
 was led by his hatred for the name of Crochard, Caro- 
 line danced lightly about the room, clapping her hands 
 together. 
 
 "It seems to me," she cried, "that I shall belong to 
 you more in that way. Generally a girl gives up her 
 own name and takes that of her husband." 
 
 An importunate idea, which she drove away 
 instantly, made her blush. She took Roger by the 
 hand and led him to the piano. 
 
 "Listen," she said. "I know my sonata now like 
 an angel." 
 
 So saying, her fingers ran over the ivory keys, but a 
 strong arm caught her round the waist and lifted her. 
 
 "Caroline, I ought to be far away by this time." 
 
 "You must go? Well, go, then," she said, pouting. 
 
 But she smiled as she looked at the clock, and cried 
 out, joyously: — 
 
 "At any rate, 1 have kept you a quarter of an hour 
 more." 
 
 "Adieu, Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille," he said, 
 with the gentle mockery of love. 
 
 She took a kiss and led him to the door. When the 
 
214 A Double Life. 
 
 sound of his steps was no longer to be heard on the 
 staircase she ran to the balcony to see him get into 
 his tilbury, pick up the reins, and send her a last 
 look. Then she listened to the roll of the wheels 
 along the street, and followed with her eyes the mettle- 
 some horse, the hat of the master, the gold lace on the 
 groom's livery, and even looked long at the corner of 
 the street which parted her from that vision of her 
 heart. 
 
 Five years after the installation of Mademoiselle 
 Caroline de Bellefeuille in the pretty apartment in 
 the rue Taitbout, another domestic scene was happen- 
 ing there which tightened still further the bonds of 
 affection between the two beings who loved each 
 other. 
 
 In the middle of the blue salon and in front of the 
 window that opened on the balcony, a little boy 
 about four and a half years old was making an infer- 
 nal racket by whipping and urging his rocking-horse, 
 which was going at a pace that did not please him. 
 The curls of his pretty blond head were falling in 
 disorder on his collarette, and he smiled like an ansrel 
 at his mother when she called to him from her sofa : 
 
 "Not so much noise, Charles; you'll wake your 
 little sister." 
 
 At that the inquiring boy jumped hastily from his 
 horse and came on tiptoe, as if he feared to make a 
 sound on the carpet; then, with a finger between his 
 little teeth, he stood in one of those infantine atti- 
 tudes which have so much grace because they are 
 natural, and gently lifted the white muslin veil that hid 
 the rosy face of a baby asleep on its mother's knee. 
 
tl 
 
 A Double Life. 215 
 
 "Is she really asleep?" he said, much surprised. 
 
 Why does Eugenie sleep when we are all awake?" 
 he inquired, opening wide his great black eyes which 
 floated in liquid light. 
 
 "God only knows that," replied Caroline, smiling. 
 
 Mother and son gazed at the little girl baptized 
 that morning. Caroline, now about twenty-four years 
 old, had developed a beauty which happiness unalloyed 
 and constant pleasure had brought into bloom. In 
 her, the woman was now complete. Happy in obey- 
 ing all the wishes of her dear Roger, she had by 
 degrees acquired the accomplishments in which she 
 was formerly lacking. She could play quite well on 
 the piano, and sang agreeably. Ignorant of the usages 
 of society (which would have repulsed her, and where 
 she would not have gone had it even desired her, for 
 a happy woman does not seek the world), she had not 
 learned how to assume the social elegance of manner 
 nor how to maintain the conversation teeming with 
 words and empty of thought which passes current in 
 the world. But, on the other hand, she had laboriously 
 obtained the knowledge and the accomplishments 
 necessary to a mother whose ambition lies in bringing 
 up her children properly. 
 
 Never to part from her son; to give him from his 
 cradle those lessons of every hour which imprint upon 
 the youthful soul a love of goodness and of beauty, 
 to preserve him from all evil influences, to fulfil the 
 wearisome functions of a nurse and the tender obliga- 
 tions of a mother, — such were her pleasures. From 
 the very first day of her love the discreet and gentle 
 creature resigned herself so thoroughly to make no 
 
216 A Double Life. 
 
 step beyond the enchanted sphere in which she found 
 her joys, that after six years of the tenderest union 
 she knew her friend only by the name of Roger. In 
 her bedroom an engraving of Psyche coming with her 
 lamp to look at Cupid, though forbidden by the god to 
 do so, reminded her of the conditions of her happiness. 
 
 During these six years no ill-placed ambition on 
 her part wearied Roger's heart, a treasure-house of 
 kindness. Never did she wish for display, for dia- 
 monds, for toilets; she refused the luxury of a car- 
 riage offered a score of times to her vanity. To watch 
 on the balcony for Roger's cabriolet, to go with him 
 to the theatre, to ramble with him in fine weather in 
 the country about Paris, to hope for him, to see him, 
 to hope for him again, — that was the story of her life, 
 poor in events, rich in affection. 
 
 While rocking to sleep with a song the baby, a 
 girl, born a few months before the day of which we 
 speak, she pleased herself by evoking her memories of 
 the past. The period she liked best to dwell on was 
 the month of September in every year, when Roger 
 took her to Bellefeuille to enjoy the country at that 
 season. Nature is then as prodigal of fruit as of 
 flowers; the evenings are warm, the mornings soft, 
 and the sparkle of summer still keeps at bay the 
 melancholy ghost of autumn. 
 
 During the first period of their love Caroline attrib- 
 uted the calm equability of soul and the gentleness of 
 which Roger gave her so many proofs to the rarity of 
 their meetings, always longed for, and to their manner 
 of life, which did not keep them perpetually in each 
 other's presence, as with husband and wife. She 
 
A Double Life. 217 
 
 recalled with delight how, during their first stay on 
 the beautiful little property in the Gatinais, tormented 
 by a vague fear, she watched him. Useless espial of 
 love! Each of those joyful months passed like 
 a dream in the bosom of a happiness that proved 
 unchangeable. She had never seen that kind and 
 tender being without a smile on his lips, — a smile 
 that seemed the echo of her own. Sometimes these 
 pictures too vividly evoked brought tears to her eyes ; 
 she fancied she did not love him enough, and was 
 tempted to see in her equivocal situation a sort of tax 
 levied by fate upon her love. 
 
 At other times an invincible curiosity led her to 
 wonder for the millionth time what events they were 
 which could have driven so loving a man as Roger to 
 find his happiness in ways that were clandestine and 
 illegal. She invented a score of romances, chiefly to 
 escape admitting the real reason, long since divined, 
 though her heart refused to believe in it. 
 
 She now rose, still holding her sleeping child in her 
 arms, and went into the dining-room to superintend 
 the arrangements of the table for dinner. The day 
 was the 6th of May, 1822, the anniversary of their 
 excursion to the park of Saint-Leu, when her life was 
 decided; during every succeeding year that day had 
 been kept as a festival of the heart. Caroline now 
 selected the linen and ordered the arrangement of the 
 
 CD 
 
 dessert. Having thus taken the pains which she knew 
 would please Roger, she laid the baby in its pretty 
 cradle and took up her station on the balcony to watch 
 for the useful cabriolet which had now replaced the 
 elegant tilbury of former years. 
 
218 A Double Life. 
 
 After receiving the first onset of Caroline's caresses 
 and those of the lively urchin who called him "papa," 
 Roger went to the cradle, looked at his sleeping daugh- 
 ter, kissed her forehead, and drew from his pocket a 
 long paper, covered with black lines. 
 
 "Caroline," he said, "here \s the dowry of Made- 
 moiselle Eugenie de Belief euille." 
 
 The mother took the paper (a certificate of invest- 
 ment on the Grand-livre) gratefully. 
 
 "Why three thousand francs a year to Eugenie, 
 when you only gave fifteen hundred a year to 
 Charles?" she asked. 
 
 "Charles, my angel, will be a man," he answered. 
 "Fifteen hundred francs will suffice to support him. 
 With that income a man of energy is above want. If, 
 by chance, your son should be a nullity, I do not wish 
 to give him enough to make him dissipated. If he 
 has ambition, that small amount of property will in- 
 spire him with a love of work, and it will also enable 
 to work. Eugenie is a woman, and must be provided 
 for." 
 
 The father began to play with Charles, whose lively 
 demonstrations were proofs of the independence and 
 liberty in which he was being educated. No fear 
 between child and father destroyed that charm which 
 compensates paternity for its heavy responsibilities; 
 the gayety of the little family was as sweet as it was 
 genuine. That evening a magic lantern was produced 
 which cast upon a white sheet mysterious scenes and 
 pictures to the great amazement of the boy. More 
 than once the raptures of the innocent little fellow 
 excited the wild laughter of his father and mother. 
 
A Double Life. 219 
 
 Later, when the child had gone to bed, the baby woke, 
 demanding its legitimate nourishment. By the light 
 of the lamp, beside the hearth, in that chamber of 
 peace and pleasure, Roger abandoned himself to the 
 happiness of contemplating the picture of Caroline 
 with her infant at her breast, white and fresh as a lily 
 when it blooms, her beautiful brown hair falling in 
 such masses of curls as almost to hide her throat. 
 The light, as it fell, brought out the charms of this 
 young mother, — multiplying upon her and about her, 
 on her clothes and on her infant, those picturesque 
 effects which are produced by combinations of light 
 and shade. The face of the calm and silent woman 
 seemed sweeter than ever before to Roger, who looked 
 with tender eyes at the red and curving lips from 
 which no bitter or discordant word had ever issued. 
 The same love shone in Caroline's own eyes as she 
 examined Roger furtively, either to enjoy the effect 
 she was producing, or to know if she might keep him 
 that evening. 
 
 Roger, who saw that meaning in her glance, said, 
 with feigned regret: — 
 
 "I must soon be going. I have important business 
 to attend to; they expect me at home. Duty first; 
 isn't that so, my darling?" 
 
 Caroline watched him with a sad and gentle look, 
 which did not leave him ignorant of the pain of her 
 sacrifice. 
 
 "Adieu, then," she said. "Go now! If you stay 
 an hour longer perhaps I shall not then be able to let 
 you go." 
 
 "My angel," he said, smiling, "I have three days' 
 
220 A Double Life. 
 
 leave of absence, and I am supposed to be at this 
 moment twenty leagues from Paris." 
 
 A few clays after this anniversary of the 6th of 
 May, Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille was hurrying one 
 morning to the rue Saint-Louis in the Marais, hoping 
 not to arrive too late at a house where she usually 
 went regularly once a week. A messenger had been 
 sent to tell her that her mother, Madame Crochard, 
 was dying from a complication of ills brought on by 
 catarrh and rheumatism. 
 
 While Caroline was still on the way, certain scrup- 
 ulous old women with whom Madame Crochard had 
 made friends for the last few years, introduced a priest 
 into the clean and comfortable apartment of the old 
 mother on the second floor of the house. Madame 
 Crochard 's servant was ignorant that the pretty young 
 lady with whom her mistress often dined was the old 
 woman's daughter. She was the first to propose call- 
 ing in a confessor, hoping, secretly, that the priest 
 would be of as much use to her as to the sick woman. 
 
 Between two games of cards, or while walking 
 together in the Jardin Turc, the old women with whom 
 Madame Crochard gossiped daily had contrived to 
 instil into the hardened heart of their friend certain 
 scruples as to her past life, a few ideas of the future, 
 a few fears on the subject of hell, and certain hopes 
 of pardon based on a sincere return to the duties of 
 religion. Consequently, during this solemn morning 
 three old dames from the rue Saint-Frangois and the 
 rue Vieille-du-Temple established themselves in the 
 salon where Madame Crochard was in the habit of 
 receiving them every Tuesday. They each took turns 
 
A Double Life. 221 
 
 to keep the poor old creature company and give her 
 those false hopes with which the sick are usually 
 deluded. 
 
 It was not until the crisis seemed approaching and 
 the doctor, called in the night before, refused to 
 answer for the patient's life, that the three old women 
 consulted one another to decide if it were necessary 
 to notify Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille. Frangoise, 
 the maid, was finally instructed to send a messenger 
 to the rue Taitbout to inform the young relation whose 
 influence was feared by the four old women, each of 
 whom devoutly hoped that the man might return too 
 . late with the person on whom Madame Crochard had 
 seemed to set a great affection. The latter, rich to 
 their minds, and spending at least three thousand 
 francs a year, was courted and cared for by the female 
 trio solely because none of these good friends, nor 
 even Francoise herself, knew of her having any heirs. 
 The opulence in which her young relation Mademoi- 
 selle de Bellefeuille lived (Madame Crochard refrained 
 from calling Caroline her daughter, according to a 
 well-known custom of the Opera of her clay) seemed 
 to justify their scheme of sharing the property of the 
 dying woman among themselves. 
 
 Presently one of the three crones, who was watching 
 the patient, put her shaking head into the room where 
 the other two were waiting, and said : — 
 
 "It is time to send for the Abbe Fontanon. In two 
 hours from now she will be unconscious, and could n't 
 sign her name." 
 
 Old Francoise departed immediately, and soon re- 
 turned with a man in a black coat. A narrow fore- 
 
222 A Double Life. 
 
 head bespoke a narrow mind in this priest, whose face 
 was of the commonest, — his heavy, hanging cheeks, 
 his double chin, showing plainly enough a comfort- 
 loving egotist. His powdered hair gave him a spe- 
 ciously mild appearance until he raised his small brown 
 eyes, which were very prominent, and would have been 
 in their proper place beneath the brows of a Kalmuc 
 Tartar. 
 
 "Monsieur l'abbe," Franeoise was saying to him, 
 "I thank you for your advice, but you must please 
 to remember the care I have taken of this dear 
 woman — " 
 
 Here she suddenly paused, observing that the door 
 of the apartment was open and that the most insinuat- 
 ing of the three crones was standing on the landing to 
 be the first to speak with the confessor. 
 
 When the ecclesiastic had graciously received the 
 triple broadside of the three pious and devoted friends 
 of the widow he went into the latter' s chamber and 
 sat down by her bedside. Decency and a certain 
 sense of propriety forced the three ladies and old 
 Franeoise to remain in the adjoining room, where 
 they assumed looks of grief and mourning, which 
 none but wrinkled old faces like theirs can mimic 
 to perfection. 
 
 "Ah! but haven't I been unlucky?" cried Fran- 
 chise, with a sigh. "This is the fourth mistress I've 
 had the grief to bury. The first left me an annuity 
 of a hundred francs, the second a hundred and fifty, 
 the third a sum down of three thousand. After thirty 
 years' service that 's all I 've got! " 
 
 The servant presently used her right of going and 
 
A Double Life. 223 
 
 coming to slip into a little closet where she could 
 overhear the priest's words. 
 
 "I see with pleasure," said Fontanon, "that your 
 feelings, my daughter, are those of true piety. You 
 are wearing, I see, some holy relic." 
 
 Madame Crochard made a vague movement which 
 showed perhaps that she was not wholly in her right 
 mind, for she dragged out the imperial cross of the 
 Legion of honor. 
 
 The abba rolled back his chair on beholding the 
 effigy of the emperor. But he soon drew closer to his 
 penitent, who talked to him in so low a voice that for 
 a time Franchise could hear nothing. 
 
 "A curse upon me!/' cried the old woman suddenly, 
 in a louder voice. "Don't abandon me, monsieur 
 l'abbe. Do you really think I shall have to answer 
 for my daughter's soul? " 
 
 The priest spoke in so low a voice that Francoise 
 could not hear him through the partition. 
 
 "Alas!" cried the widow, shrilly, "the wretch has 
 given me nothing that I can will to any one. When 
 he took my poor Caroline, he separated her from me, 
 and gave me only three thousand francs a year, the 
 capital of which is to go to my daughter." 
 
 "Madame has a daughter, and only an annuity!" 
 cried Francoise, hastening into the salon. 
 
 The three old women looked at each other in amaze- 
 ment. The one whose chin and nose were nearest 
 together (thus revealing a certain superior hypocrisy 
 and shrewdness) winked at the other two, and as soon 
 as Franchise had turned her back she made them a 
 sign which meant, 'She 's a sly one; she has got her- 
 self down on three wills already." 
 
224 A Double Life. 
 
 The three old women remained therefore where they 
 were. But the abbe presently joined them, and after 
 they had heard what he had to say, they hurried like 
 witches down the stairs and out of the house, leaving 
 Francoise alone with her mistress. 
 
 Madame Crochard, whose sufferings were increasing 
 cruelly, rang in vain for her maid, who was busy in 
 making a search among the old woman's receptacles, 
 and contented herself by calling out from time to 
 time : — 
 
 "Yes, yes! I 'm coming! — presently ! " 
 
 The doors of the closets and wardrobes were heard 
 to open and shut, as if Francoise were looking for 
 some lottery-ticket or bank-note hidden among their 
 contents. At this moment, when the crisis was im- 
 pending, Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille arrived. 
 
 "Oh! my dear mother," she cried, "how criminal 
 I am not to have got here sooner! You suffer, and I 
 did not know it! my heart never told me you were in 
 pain ! But here I am now — " 
 
 " Caroline. " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "They brought me a priest." 
 
 "A doctor is what you want," cried Caroline. 
 "Francoise, fetch a doctor. How could those ladies 
 neglect to have a doctor? " 
 
 "They brought me a priest," reiterated Madame 
 Crochard, with a sigh. 
 
 "How she suffers! and not a thing to give her; no 
 quieting medicine, nothing! " 
 
 The mother made an inlistinct sign; but Caroline's 
 intelligent eye saw what was meant; she was instantly 
 silent herself that her mother might speak. 
 
A Double Life. 225 
 
 "They brought me a priest," said the old woman for 
 the third time, "on pretence of confessing me. Be- 
 ware for yourself, Caroline," she cried out painfully, 
 making a last effort; "the priest dragged out of me 
 the name of your protector." 
 
 "How did you know it, my poor mother?" The 
 old woman died while striving to look satirically at 
 her daughter. If Caroline had observed her mother's 
 face at that moment she would have seen what no one 
 will ever see, namely, — Death laughing. 
 
 To understand the secrets underlying this introduc- 
 tion to our present Scene, we must for a time forget 
 these personages and turn back to the story of anterior 
 events. The conclusion of that story will be seen to 
 be connected with the death of Madame Crochard. 
 These two parts will then form one history, which, by 
 a law peculiar to Parisian life, had produced two 
 distinct and separate lines of action. 
 
 15 
 
226 A Double Life. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE FIRST LIFE. 
 
 Toward the close of November, 1805, a young law- 
 yer, then about twenty-six years of age, was coming 
 down the grand staircase of the mansion occupied by 
 the arch-chancellor of the Empire, about three in 
 the morning. When he reached the court-yard in his 
 evening dress and saw a thin coating of ice, he gave 
 an exclamation of dismay, through which, however, 
 shone that sense of amusement which seldom deserts 
 a Frenchman. Looking about him he saw no hack- 
 ney-coaches, and heard in the distance none of those 
 familiar sounds produced by the wooden shoes of Par- 
 isian coachmen and their gruff voices. The tramp- 
 ling of a few horses were heard in the court-yard, 
 among them those of the chief-justice, whom the 
 young man had just seen playing cards with Cam- 
 baceres. Suddenly he felt the friendly clap of a hand 
 upon his shoulder; looking round, he beheld the chief- 
 justice and bowed to him. 
 
 As the footman was letting down the steps of his 
 carriage, the former legislator of the Convention had 
 observed the young man's predicament. 
 
 "All cats are gray at night," he said, gayly. "The 
 chief-justice won't compromise himself if he does 
 take a barrister to his lodgings. Especially," he 
 
A Double Life. 227 
 
 added, "if the said barrister is the nephew of an old 
 colleague, and one of the lights of that great Council 
 of State which gave the Code Napoleon to France." 
 
 The young man got into the carriage, obeying an 
 imperative sign from the chief law officer of imperial 
 justice. 
 
 "Where do you live?" asked the minister, while the 
 footman awaited the order before he closed the door. 
 
 "Quai des Augustins, monseigneur." 
 
 The horses started, and the young lawyer found 
 himself tete a tete with the minister, whom he had 
 vainly endeavored to speak with both during and after 
 the sumptuous dinner of Cambaceres; it was evident 
 to his mind that the chief-justice had taken pains to 
 avoid him during the whole evening. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur de Granville, it seems to me that 
 you are on the right road now — " 
 
 "So long as I am seated by your Excellency — " 
 
 "I'm not joking," said the minister. "You were 
 called to the bar two years ago, and since then your 
 defence in the Simeuse and the Hauteserre trials have 
 placed you very high." 
 
 "I have thought, until now, that my devotion to 
 those unfortunate emigres did me an injury." 
 
 "You are very young," said the minister, gravely. 
 "But," he added, after a pause, "you pleased the 
 arch-chancellor to-night. Enter the magistracy of the 
 bar; we back the right men there. The nephew of a 
 man for whom Cambaceres and I feel the deepest 
 interest ought not to remain a mere pleader for want 
 of influence. Your uncle helped us to come safely 
 through a stormy period, and such services must not 
 be forgotten." 
 
228 A Double Life. 
 
 The minister was silent for a moment. "Before 
 long," he resumed, "I shall have three places vacant, 
 in the Lower court and in the Imperial court of Paris ; 
 come and see me then, and choose the one that suits 
 you. Until then, work hard ; but do not come to my 
 court. In the first place, I am overrun with work; 
 and in the next, your rivals will guess your intentions 
 and try to injure you. Cambaceres and I, by saying 
 not one word to you to-night, were protecting you 
 from the dangers of favoritism." 
 
 As the minister ended these words the carriage drew 
 up on the Quai des Augustins. The young barrister 
 thanked his generous protector with effusive warmth 
 of heart, and rapped loudly on the door, for the keen 
 north wind blew about his calves with wintry rigor. 
 Presently an old porter drew the cord, and, as the 
 young man entered, he called to him in a wheezy 
 voice : — 
 
 "Monsieur, here 's a letter for you." 
 
 The young man took it, and tried, in spite of the 
 cold, to read the writing by the paling gleam of a 
 street-lamp. 
 
 "It is from my father!" he exclaimed, taking his 
 candlestick from the porter. He then ran rapidly up 
 to his room and read the following letter: — 
 
 *© 
 
 "Take the mail coach, and, if you get here promptly, 
 your fortune is made. Mademoiselle Ang61ique Bon- 
 tems has lost her sister; she is now the only child, 
 and we know that she does not hate you. Madame 
 Bontems will probably leave her forty thousand francs 
 a year in addition to her dowry. I have prepared your 
 
A Double Life. 229 
 
 ■way. Our friends may be surprised to see a noble 
 family like ours ally itself with the Bontems. It 
 is true that old Bontems was a bonnet rouge of the 
 deepest dye, who got possession of a vast amount of 
 the national property for almost nothing. But in the 
 first place, what he got was the property of monks 
 who will never return, and in the next, inasmuch as 
 you have already derogated from our station in mak- 
 ing yourself a barrister, I don't see why we should 
 shrink from making another concession to modern 
 ideas. The girl will have three hundred thousand 
 francs, and I will give you one hundred thousand; 
 your mother's property is worth a hundred and fifty 
 thousand more, or nearly that. Therefore, my dear 
 son, if you are willing to enter the magistracy, I see 
 you in a fair way to become a senator like the rest 
 of them. My brother-in-law, the councillor of State, 
 will not lend a hand for that, I know, but as he is not 
 married, his property will be yours some day. In 
 reaching that position you perch high enough to watch 
 events. 
 
 "Adieu; I embrace you." 
 
 Young de Granville went to bed with his head full 
 of projects, each one more delightful than the last. 
 Powerfully protected by Cambaceres, the chief-justice, 
 and his maternal uncle, who was one of the construc- 
 tors of the Code, he was about to begin his career in 
 an enviable position before the leading court of France 
 and a member of that bar from which Napoleon was 
 selecting the highest functionaries of his empire. And 
 now, in addition to these prospects, came that of a 
 
230 A Double Life. 
 
 fortune sufficiently brilliant to enable him to sustain 
 his rank, to which the puny revenue of five thousand 
 francs which he derived from an estate left him by his 
 mother would not have sufficed. 
 
 To complete his dreams of ambition came those 
 of personal happiness; he evoked the naive face of 
 Mademoiselle Angelique Bontems, the companion of 
 his childish plays. So long as he remained a mere 
 child his father and mother had not opposed his inti- 
 macy with the pretty daughter of their country neigh- 
 bor; but when, during hi3 short visits to Bayeux at 
 the time of his college vacations, his parents, bigoted 
 aristocrats, noticed his affection for the young girl, 
 they forbade him to think of her. For ten years past 
 young Granville had seldom seen his former com- 
 panion j whom he called his "little wife." On the few 
 occasions when the young pair had managed to evade 
 the watchfulness of their families, they had scarcely 
 done more than exchange a few words as they passed 
 in the street or sat near each other in church. Their 
 fortunate days were those when they met at some rural 
 fete, called in Normandy an "assembly," when they 
 were able to watch each other furtively. During his 
 last vacation, Granville had seen Angelique twice; 
 and the lowered eyes and dejected look of his "little 
 wife " made him think she was oppressed by some 
 secret despotism. 
 
 The morning after receiving his father's letter, the 
 young lawyer appeared at the coach office in the rue 
 Notre-Dame des Victoires, by seven o'clock, and was 
 lucky enough to get a seat iu the diligence then 
 starting for Caen. 
 
A Double Life, 231 
 
 It was not without deep emotion that the new bar- 
 rister beheld the towers of the cathedral of Bayeux. 
 No hope of his life had yet been disappointed; his 
 heart was opening to all the noblest sentiments which 
 stir the youthful mind. After an over-long banquet 
 of welcome with his father and a few old friends, the 
 impatient young man was taken to a certain house in 
 the rue Teinture, already well-known to him. His 
 heart beat violently as his father — who was still 
 called in Bayeux the Comte de Granville — rapped 
 loudly at a porte-cochere, the green paint of which 
 was peeling off in scales. 
 
 It was four in the afternoon. A young servant- 
 girl, wearing a cotton cap, saluted the gentlemen with 
 a bob courtesy, and replied that the ladies were at 
 vespers, but would soon be home. The count and his 
 son were shown into a lower room which served as a 
 salon and looked like the parlor of a convent. Panels 
 of polished walnut darkened the room, around which 
 a few chairs covered with tapestry were symmetrically 
 placed. The sole ornament of the stone chimney- 
 piece was a green-hued mirror, from either side of 
 which projected the twisted arms of those old-fashioned 
 candelabra made at the time of the Peace of Utrecht. 
 On the panelled wall opposite to the fireplace young 
 Granville saw an enormous crucifix of ebony and 
 ivory weathed with consecrated box. 
 
 Though lighted by three windows, which looked upon 
 a provincial garden of symmetrical square beds out- 
 lined with box, the room was so dark that it was diffi- 
 cult to distinguish on the wall opposite to the windows 
 three church pictures, the work of some learned artist, 
 
232 A Double Life. 
 
 and bought, during the Revolution no doubt, by old 
 Bontems, who, in his capacity as head of the district, 
 did not forget his own interests. 
 
 From the carefully waxed floor to the curtains of 
 green checked linen everything shone with monastic 
 cleanliness. The heart of the young man was chilled 
 involuntarily by this silent retreat in which Angelique 
 lived. His recent experience of the brilliant salons 
 of Paris in the vortex of continual fetes had easily 
 effaced from his mind the dull and placid life of the 
 provinces ; the contrast was now so abruptly presented 
 that he was conscious of a species of inward repug- 
 nance. To come from a reception at Cambaceres, 
 where life was so ample, where intellects had breadth 
 and compass, where the imperial glory was so vividly 
 reflected, and to fall suddenly into a circle of mean 
 ideas was like being transported from Italy to Green- 
 land. 
 
 "To live here! why, it is not living," he said in- 
 wardly, as he looked round this salon of methodism. 
 
 The old count, who noted the surprise on his son's 
 face, took his arm and led him to a window where 
 there was still a little light, and while the woman lit 
 the yellowed candles above the chimney-piece, he en- 
 deavored to disperse the clouds that this aspect of 
 dulness gathered on the young man's brow. 
 
 "Listen, my boy," he said. "The widow of old 
 Bontems is desperately pious, — when the devil gets 
 old, you know ! I see that the odor of sanctity is too 
 much for you. Well, now, here 's the truth. The old 
 woman is besieged by priests; they have persuaded 
 her that she has still time to go straight to heaven ; 
 
A Double Life. 233 
 
 and so, to make sure of Saint Peter and his keys, she 
 buys them. She goes to mass every day, takes the 
 sacrament every Sunday that God creates, and amuses 
 herself by restoring chapels. She has given the cathe- 
 dral so many ornaments, albs, and copes, she has 
 bedizened the canopy with such loads of feathers that 
 the last procession of the Fete-Dieu brought a greater 
 crowd than a hanging, merely to see the priests so 
 gorgeously dressed and all their utensils regilt. This 
 house, my boy, is holy ground. But I 've managed 
 to persuade the foolish old thing not to give those 
 pictures you see there to the church; one is a Do- 
 menichino, the other two, Correggio and Andrea del 
 Sarto, — worth a great deal of money." 
 
 "But Angelique?" asked the young man, eagerly. 
 
 "If you don't marry her Angelique is lost," replied 
 the count. "Our good apostles keep advising her to 
 be a virgin and martyr. I 've had a world of trouble 
 to rouse her little heart by talking of you, — ever since 
 she became an only child. But can't you see that, 
 once married, you '11 take her to Paris, and once there 
 fetes, and marriage, and the theatre and the excite- 
 ments of Parisian life will soon make her forget the 
 confessionals and fasts, hair-shirts and masses on 
 which these creatures feed ? " 
 
 "But won't the fifty thousand francs a year derived 
 from ecclesiastical property be given back?" 
 
 "Ah! there's the rub," cried the count, with a 
 knowing look. "In consideration of this marriage — 
 for Madame Bontems' vanity is not a little tickled at 
 the idea of grafting the Bontems on the genealogical 
 tree of the Granvilles — the said mother gives her 
 
234 A Double Life. 
 
 fortune outright to her daughter, reserving to herself 
 only a life- interest in it. Of course the clergy oppose 
 the marriage ; but I have had the banns published ; all 
 is ready ; in a week you '11 be out of the claws of the 
 old woman and her abbes. You '11 get the prettiest 
 girl in Bayeux, — a little duck who '11 never give you 
 any trouble, for she has principles. She has been 
 mortified in the flesh, as they say in their jargon, by 
 fasts and prayers, and," he added, in a low voice, 
 u by her mother." 
 
 A rap discreetly given to the door silenced the 
 count, who expected to see the two ladies enter. A 
 young servant-lad with an air of important business 
 entered, but, intimidated by the sight of two strangers, 
 he made a sign to the woman, who went up to him. 
 The lad wore a blue jacket with short tails which 
 flapped about his hips, and blue and white striped 
 trousers; his hair was cut round, and his face was 
 that of a choir-boy, so expressive was it of that forced 
 compunction which all the members of a devote house- 
 hold acquire. 
 
 "Mademoiselle Gatienne, do you know where the 
 books for the Office of the Virgin are? The ladies of 
 the congregation of the Sacre-Coeur are to make a 
 procession this evening in the church." 
 
 Gatienne went to fetch the books. 
 
 "Will it take long, my little friar?" asked the 
 count. 
 
 "Oh! not more than half an hour." 
 
 "Suppose we go and see it; lots of pretty women," 
 said the father to the son. "Besides, a visit to the 
 cathedral won't do us any harm " 
 
A Double Life. 235 
 
 The young lawyer followed bis father with an irreso- 
 lute air. 
 
 "What 's the matter with you? " asked the count. 
 
 "Well, the fact is, father, that I — I — I think I am 
 right." 
 
 "But you haven't yet said anything." 
 
 "True; but I have been thinking that having saved 
 a part of your former fortune you will leave it to me 
 some day, and a long day hence I hope. Now if you 
 are willing to give me, as you say, a hundred thousand 
 francs to make this marriage, which may be a foolish 
 one, I 'd rather take fifty thousand to escape unhappi- 
 ness and stav a bachelor. Even so I shall have a for- 
 tune equal to that which Mademoiselle Bontems will 
 bring me." 
 
 "Are you crazy? " 
 
 "No, father. Here is what I mean. The chief - 
 justice promised me two days ago an appointment at 
 the Paris bar. Fifty thousand francs joined to what 
 I now possess, together with the salary of the place, 
 will give me an income of twelve thousand francs; 
 and I should undoubtedly have opportunities of for- 
 tune far preferable to those of a marriage which may 
 prove as poor in happiness as it is rich in means." 
 
 "I see plainly," said his father, laughing, "that 
 you never lived under the anclen regime. Did we of 
 that day ever trouble ourselves about our wives, I 'd 
 like to know? " 
 
 " But, father, marriage has become in our day — " 
 
 "Ahca!" said the count, interrupting his son, 
 "then all is true that my old friends of the emigration 
 used to tell me? Has the Revolution bequeathed us 
 
236 A Double Life. 
 
 nothing but life without gayety, infecting the youth 
 of France with equivocal principles? Are you going 
 to talk to me, like my brother-in-law the Jacobin, of 
 the Nation, and public morality, and disinterested- 
 ness? Good heavens! without the Emperor's sisters 
 what would become of us ? " 
 
 The old mau, still vigorous, whom the peasants on 
 his property continued to call the Seigneur de Gran- 
 ville, concluded these words as they entered the cathe- 
 dral. Disregarding the sanctity of the place, he 
 hummed an air from the opera of "Rose et Colas " 
 while taking the holy water; then he led his son along 
 the lateral aisles, stopping at each column to examine 
 the rows of heads, lined up like those of soldiers on 
 parade. 
 
 The special office of the Sacre'-Cceur was about to 
 begin. The ladies belonging to that society had 
 gathered near the choir; the count and his son moved 
 on to that part of the nave and stood leaning against 
 a column in the darkest corner, whence they could see 
 the entire mass of heads, which bore some resemblance 
 to a meadow studded with flowers. 
 
 Suddenly, within a few feet of young Granville, the 
 sweetest voice he could conceive a human being to 
 possess rose like the song of the first nightingale 
 after a dreary winter. Though accompanied by other 
 women's voices and the tones of the organ, that voice 
 stirred his nerves as if they had been suddenly assailed 
 by the too rich, too keen notes of an harmonica. The 
 Parisian turned round and saw a young girl whose face, 
 from the bowed attitude of the head, was completely 
 hidden in a large bonnet of some white material. He 
 
A Double Life. 237 
 
 felt it was from her that this clear melody proceeded ; 
 he fancied that he recognized Angelique in spite of 
 the brown pelisse which wrapped her figure, and he 
 nudged his father's arm. 
 
 "Yes, that *s she," said the count, after looking in 
 the direction his son had pointed out. 
 
 The old gentleman showed by a gesture the pale 
 face of an elderly woman whose eyes, encircled by 
 dark lines, had already taken note of the strangers, 
 though her deceitful glance seemed never to have left 
 her prayer-book. 
 
 Angelique raised her head toward the altar, as if to 
 inhale the penetrating perfume of the iucense, clouds 
 of which were floating near the women. By the mys- 
 terious gleams cast from the tapers, the lamp of the 
 nave, and a few wax-candles fastened to the columns, 
 the young man saw a sight which shook his resolu- 
 tions. A white silk bonnet framed a face of charming 
 regularity, ending the oval by a bow of satin ribbon 
 beneath the dimpled chin. Above a narrow but deli- 
 cate forehead the pale gold hair was parted into bands 
 which came down upon her cheeks like the shadow of 
 foliage on a bunch of flowers. The arches of the eye- 
 brows were drawn with the precision so much admired 
 on beautiful Chinese faces. The nose, almost aqui- 
 line, possessed an unusual firmness of outline, and 
 the lips were like two rosy lines traced by love's most 
 delicate implement. The eyes, of a pale, clear blue, 
 were expressive of purity. 
 
 Though Granville remarked a sort of rigid silence 
 upon this charming face, he could readily assign it to 
 the feelings of devotion that were then in the girl's 
 
238 A Double Life. 
 
 soul. The sacred words of the prayer passed from 
 those rosy lips in a cloud, as it were, of perfume, 
 which the cold of the church sent visibly into the 
 atmosphere. Involuntarily, the young man bent for- 
 ward to breathe that divine exhalation. The move- 
 ment attracted the girl's attention, and her eyes, 
 hitherto fixed on the altar, turned toward Granville. 
 The dim light showed him to her indistinctly, but she 
 recognized the companion of her childhood; a memory 
 more powerful than prayer brought a vivid brilliancy 
 to her face, and she blushed. The young man quivered 
 with joy as the emotions of another life were visibly 
 vanquished by emotions of love, and the solemnity of 
 the sanctuary seemed eclipsed by earthly memories. 
 But his triumph was soon over. Angelique lowered 
 her veil, recovered a calm countenance, and began 
 once more to sing without a thrill in her voice that 
 showed the least emotion. But Granville found him- 
 self under the thraldom of a new desire, and all his 
 ideas of prudence vanished. 
 
 By the time the service was over his impatience had 
 become so great that without allowing the ladies to 
 return home he went up at once to greet his ''little 
 wife." A recognition that was shy on both sides took 
 place in the porch of the cathedral under the eyes of the 
 faithful. Madame Bontems trembled with pride as she 
 took the arm which the Comte de Granville, much 
 provoked by his son's scarcely decent impatience, 
 was forced to offer her before the eyes of all present. 
 
 During the fifteen days that now elapsed between 
 the official presentation of the young Vicomte de Gran- 
 ville as the accepted suitor of Mademoiselle Angelique 
 
A Double Life. 239 
 
 Bontems and the solemn day of the marriage, the 
 young mau came assiduously to visit his love in the 
 gloomy parlor, to which he grew accustomed. These 
 long visits were partly made for the purpose of watch- 
 ing Angelique's nature; for Granville's prudence re- 
 vived on the day after that first interview. He always 
 found his future wife seated before a little table of 
 Santa Lucia wood, employed in marking the linen 
 of her trousseau. Angelique never spoke first of 
 religion. If the young lawyer began to play with the 
 beads of the handsome rosary which lay beside her in 
 a crimson velvet bag, if he smiled as he looked at a 
 relic which always accompanied that instrument of 
 devotion, Angelique would take the chaplet gently 
 from his hands, giving him a supplicating look; then, 
 without a word, she replaced it in its bag and locked 
 them up. If, occasionally (to test her), Granville 
 risked some objecting remark against certain prac- 
 tices of religion, the 'pretty creature would listen to 
 him with the settled smile of fixed conviction on her 
 lips. 
 
 "We must either believe nothing, or believe all that 
 the Church teaches," she replied. "Would you wish a 
 girl without religion for the mother of your children? 
 No. What man would dare to judge between God 
 and the unbelievers? Can I blame what the Church 
 eujoins?" 
 
 Angelique seemed so inspired by fervent charity, 
 Granville saw her turn such penetrating and beseech- 
 ing glances on him, that he was several times tempted 
 to embrace her religion. The profound conviction she 
 felt of walking in the true and only path awoke in the 
 
240 A Double Life, 
 
 heart of the future magistrate certain doubts of which 
 she endeavored to make the most. 
 
 Granville then committed the enormous fault of 
 mistaking the signs of an eager desire for those of 
 love. Angelique was so pleased to unite the voice 
 of her heart with that of her duty, in yielding to an 
 inclination she had felt from childhood, that the young 
 man, misled, did not distinguish which of the two 
 voices was the stronger. Are not all young men 
 primarily disposed to trust the promises of a pretty 
 face, and to infer beauty of soul from beauty of 
 feature? An indefinable feeling leads them to believe 
 that moral perfection must coincide with physical per- 
 fection. If her religion had not permitted Angelique 
 to yield to her feelings they would soon have dried up 
 in her heart like a plant watered with an acid. Could 
 a lover beloved become aware of the secret fanaticism 
 of the girl's nature? 
 
 Such was the history of young Granville's feelings 
 during this fortnight, devoured like a book whose 
 denouement is absorbing. Angelique, attentively 
 studied, seemed to him the gentlest of womankind, 
 and he even found himself giving thanks to Madame 
 Bontems, who, by inculcating the principles of religion 
 so strongly in her daughter, had trained her, as it 
 were, to meet the trials of life. 
 
 On the day appointed for the signing of the mar- 
 riage contract Madame Bontems made her son-in-law 
 swear solemnly to respect the religious practices of 
 her daughter, to allow her absolute liberty of con- 
 science, to let her take the sacrament and go to church 
 and to confession as often as she pleased, and never 
 
A Double Life. 241 
 
 to oppose her in her choice of a confessor. At this 
 solemn moment Angelique looked at her future hus- 
 band with so pure and innocent an air that Granville 
 did not hesitate to take the required oath. A smile 
 flickered on the lips of the Abbe Fontanon, the pallid 
 priest who directed the consciences of the family. 
 With a slight motion of her head, Mademoiselle 
 Bontems promised her lover never to make an ill use 
 of that liberty of conscience. As for the old count, 
 he whistled under his breath, to the tune of "Va-t-en 
 voir s'ils viennent." 
 
 After the proper number of days granted to the 
 retours de ?wces, customary in the provinces, Gran- 
 ville returned with his wife to Paris, where the young 
 lawyer was now appointed as substitute to perform 
 the duties of attorney-general to the imperial court 
 of the Seine. When the new couple began to look 
 about them for a residence, Angelique employed the 
 influence possessed by every woman during the honey- 
 moon to induce Granville to take a large apartment on 
 the ground-floor of a house which formed the corner 
 of the rue Vieille-du-Temple and the rue Neuve-Saint- 
 Francois. The principal reason for her choice was 
 the fact that this house was close to the rue d' Orleans, 
 in which was a church, and it was also near a small 
 chapel in the rue Saint-Louis. 
 
 "A good housekeeper makes proper provision," said 
 her husband, laughing. 
 
 Angelique begged him to observe that the Marais 
 quarter was in the neighborhood of the Palais de Jus- 
 tice, and that the magistrates he had just called upon 
 lived there. A large garden gave, for a young house- 
 
 16 
 
242 A Double Life. 
 
 hold, an additional value to the residence, — their chil- 
 dren, "if heaven sent them any," could play there; the 
 court-yard was spacious, and the stables were fine. 
 Granville would much have preferred a house in the 
 Chaussee-d'Antin, where everything was young and 
 lively, where the fashions appear in all their novelty, 
 where the neighboring population is elegant, and the 
 distance less to theatres and other sources of amuse- 
 ment. But he found himself forced to yield to the 
 persuasions of a young wife making her first request, 
 and thus, solely to please her, he buried himself in 
 the Marais. 
 
 Granville's new functions required an assiduous 
 labor, all the more because they were new to him ; he 
 therefore gave his first thought to the furnishing of 
 his study and the arrangement of his library, where 
 he quickly installed himself in the midst of a mass 
 of documents, leaving his young wife to direct the 
 decoration of the rest of the house. He threw the 
 responsibility of these purchases, usually a source of 
 pleasure and tender recollection to young wives, the 
 more willingly upon Angelique because he was ashamed 
 of depriving her of his presence far more than the 
 rules of the honeymoon permitted. But after he had 
 thoroughly settled to his work, the young official 
 allowed his wife to entice him out of his study and 
 show him the effect of the furniture and decorations, 
 which so far he had only seen piecemeal. 
 
 If it is true, as the adage says, that we may judge 
 of a woman by the door of her house, the rooms of 
 that house must reveal her mind with even more 
 fidelity. Whether it was that Madame de Granville 
 
A Double Life. 243 
 
 had given her custom to tradesmen without any taste, 
 or that her own nature was inscribed on the quantity 
 of things ordered by her, certain it is that the young 
 husband was astonished at the dreariness and cold 
 solemnity that reigned in the new home. He saw 
 nothing graceful; all was discord; no pleasure was 
 granted to the eye. The spirit of formality and petti- 
 ness which characterized the parlor at Bayeux reap- 
 peared in the Parisian salon beneath ceilings and 
 cornices decorated with commonplace arabesques, the 
 Ion sf convoluted strands of which were in execrable 
 taste. 
 
 With the desire to exonerate his wife, the young 
 man retraced his steps and examined once more the 
 long and lofty antechamber through which the apart- 
 ment was entered. The color of the woodwork, chosen 
 by his wife, was much too sombre; the dark-green 
 velvet that covered the benches only added to the d ill- 
 ness of the room, — of no great importance, to be sure, 
 except as it gave an idea of the rest of the house; 
 just as we often judge of a man's mind by his first 
 words. An antechamber is a species of preface which 
 announces all, but pledges nothing. The young man 
 asked himself if his wife could really have chosen the 
 lamp in the form of an antique lantern which hung in 
 the middle of this barren hall, that was paved with 
 black and white marble and hung with a paper imitat- 
 ing blocks of stone with here and there green patches 
 of simulated moss and lichen. A large but old barom- 
 eter hung in the centre of one of the panels as if to 
 make the barrenness of the place more visible. 
 
 The husband looked at his wife; he saw her so 
 
244 A Double Life. 
 
 satisfied with the red trimmings that edged the cotton 
 curtains, so pleased with the barometer and the decent 
 statue which adorned the top of a huge gothic stove, 
 that he had not the barbarous courage to destroy 
 those fond illusions. Instead of condemning his wife, 
 Granville condemned himself; he blamed his neglect 
 of his first duty, which was surely to guide the steps 
 of a girl brought up in Bayeux and ignorant of Paris. 
 After this specimen, the reader can easily imagine 
 the decoration of the other rooms. What could be 
 expected of a young woman who took fright at the 
 legs of a caryatide, and rejected with disgust a cande- 
 labrum or a bit of furniture if the nudity of an 
 Egyptian torso appeared upon it. At this period the 
 school of David had reached the apex of its fame; 
 everything in France felt the influence of the correct- 
 ness of his drawing and his love for antique forms, 
 which made his painting, as one might say, a species 
 of colored sculpture. But none of the inventions of 
 imperial luxury obtained a place in Madame de Gran- 
 ville's home. The vast square salon retained the white 
 paint and the faded gilding of the Louis XV. period, 
 in which the architects were prodigal of those insuf- 
 ferable festoons due to the sterile fecundity of the 
 designers of that epoch. If the slightest harmony 
 had reigned, if the articles of furniture had taken, in 
 modern mahogany, the twisted forms brought into 
 fashion by the corrupted taste of Boucher, Ang^lique's 
 house would merely have offered the odd contrast of 
 young people living in the nineteenth century as if 
 they belonged to the eighteenth; but no, — a mass 
 of heterogeneous things produced the most ridiculous 
 
A Double Life. 245 
 
 anachronisms. The consoles , clocks, and candelabra 
 represented warriors and their attributes, which the 
 triumphs of the Empire had rendered dear to Paris. 
 Greek helmets, Roman broad-swords, shields due to 
 military enthusiasm which now decorated the most 
 pacific articles of furniture were little in accordance 
 with the delicate and prolix arabesques, the delight 
 of Madame de Pompadour. Pietistic devotion carries 
 with it a sort of wearisome humility, which does not 
 exclude pride. Whether from modesty or natural 
 inclination, Madame de Granville seemed to have a 
 horror for light or gay colors. Perhaps she thought 
 that brown and purple comported best with the dignity 
 of a magistrate. How could a young girl accustomed 
 to an austere life conceive of those luxurious sofas, 
 those elegant and treacherous boudoirs where pleasures 
 and dangers take their rise? 
 
 The poor magistrate was in despair. By the tone 
 of approbation with which he echoed the praises which 
 his wife was bestowing upon herself she perceived that 
 she had not pleased him ; and she showed such grief 
 at her failure that the amorous Granville saw another 
 proof of love for him in her excessive pain, instead of 
 seeing what it really was, — a wound to her self-love. 
 A young girl suddenly taken from the mediocrity of 
 provincial ideas, unaccustomed to the coquetry and 
 elegance of Parisian life, could she have done better? 
 The young husband preferred to believe that the choice 
 of his wife had been guided by her tradesmen, rather 
 than admit to himself what was really the truth. Less 
 loving, he would have felt that the dealers, quick to 
 divine the thoughts of their customers, must have 
 
246 A Double Life. 
 
 blessed heaven for sending them a young devote de- 
 void of taste, who enabled them to get rid of things 
 that were otherwise unsalable. As it was, he did his 
 best to console his wife. 
 
 "Happiness, my dear Angelique, doesn't depend on 
 furniture that is more or less elegant; it depends on 
 the sweetness and kindness and love of a woman." 
 
 "It is my duty to love you; and no duty can ever 
 please me as much," replied Angelique, softly. 
 
 Nature has put into a woman's heart so great a 
 desire to please, so great a need of love, that even in 
 a bigoted young girl ideas of a future life and of 
 working for salvation must succumb in some degree 
 to the first joys of marriage. So that, since the month 
 of April, the period at which they were married, until 
 the beginning of the winter, the married pair had 
 enjoyed a perfect union. Love and work have the 
 virtue of making a man indifferent to external mat- 
 ters. Obliged to spend half the day at the Palais de 
 Justice, required to debate the solemn interests of the 
 life or fate of men, Granville was less likely than 
 other husbands to see or know what went on within 
 his own household. If on Fridays his table was 
 served with a maigre dinner, if by chance he asked 
 for a dish of meat without obtaining it, his wife, 
 forbidden by the Gospels to tell a lie, contrived by 
 various little deceptions (allowable in the interests of 
 religion) to make her premeditated purpose appear 
 like an act of forgetfulness or the result of an empty 
 market; she excused herself often by throwing the 
 blame upon her cook, and even went so far on one 
 occasion as to scold him for it. At this period young 
 
A Double Life. 247 
 
 magistrates were not in the habit of keeping fasts, 
 Ember-days, and vigils as they do in our time; Gran- 
 ville therefore did not at first notice the periodicity of 
 his maigre meals, which his wife, moreover, took wily 
 care to make extremely delicate by means of teal, 
 wild-duck, and fish, the amphibious flesh of which, or 
 the careful seasoning, deceived his taste. 
 
 Thus the young magistrate lived, without being 
 aware of it, in an orthodox manner, and earned his 
 salvation unknown to himself. On week-days he did 
 not know if his wife went to church or not. On Sun- 
 days, by a very natural courtesy, he accompanied her 
 to mass as if to reward her for occasionally sacri- 
 ficing vespers to be with him; he therefore did not at 
 first realize the rigidity of his wife's pious habits. 
 Theatres being intolerable in summer on account of 
 the heat, Granville had no occasion to ask his wife 
 to go there ; the serious question of theatre-going was, 
 therefore, not mooted. In the first months of a mar- 
 riage to which a man has been led by the beauty of 
 a young girl, he is never exacting in his demands; 
 youth is more eager than discriminating. How could 
 he see the coldness, the reserve, the frigidity of a 
 woman to whom he attributed a warmth of enthusiasm 
 equal to his own? It is necessary to reach a certain 
 conjugal tranquillity before perceiving that a true 
 devote accepts a man's love with her arms crossed. 
 Granville, thus in the dark, regarded himself as suffi- 
 ciently happy until a fatal event came to influence the 
 future of his marriage. 
 
 In the month of September, 1808, the canon of the 
 cathedral at Bayeux, who had formerly directed the 
 
248 A Double Life. 
 
 consciences of Madame Bonterns and her daughter 
 came to Paris, led by an ambition to obtain a post 
 in one of the great churches, no doubt considering it 
 as the stepping-stone to a bishopric. In recovering 
 his former power over his lamb he shuddered, as he 
 said, to find her already so changed by the air of 
 Paris ; and he set himself to the work of drawing her 
 back to his chilly fold. Frightened by the remon- 
 strances of the ex-canon, — a man about thirty- 
 eight years old, who brought into the midst of the 
 enlightened and tolerant clergy of Paris the harsh- 
 ness of provincial Catholicism, with its inflexible big- 
 otry, whose manifold exactions are so many shackles 
 to timid souls, — Madame de Granville repented of 
 her sins and returned to her Jansenism. 
 
 It would be wearisome to describe, step by step, the 
 incidents which led insensibly to unhappiness within 
 the bosom of the Granville household; it will perhaps 
 suffice to relate the principal facts without being scru- 
 pulous to give them their proper order and sequence. 
 The first misunderstanding between the young couple 
 was, however, sufficiently striking to be carefully 
 related here. 
 
 When Granville wished to take his wife into society 
 she never refused any staid receptions, or dinners, 
 concerts, and assemblies at the houses of magistrates 
 ranking above her husband in the judicial hierarchy ; 
 but she contrived, for a long time, under pretext of a 
 headache or other illness, to avoid a ball. Oue day 
 Granville, impatient at last with these wilful excuses, 
 suppressed the written notice of a ball at the house of 
 a councillor of State, and deceived his wife by a ver- 
 
A Double Life. 249 
 
 bal invitation. When the evening came her health 
 was not in question, and he took her, for the first time, 
 to a really magnificent fete. 
 
 "My dear," he said, after their return, observing 
 her depressed air, which annoyed him, "your position 
 as my wife, the rank to which you are entitled in 
 society, and the fortune you enjoy, impose obligations 
 upon you which you cannot escape. You ought to go 
 with me into society, especially to large balls, and 
 appear there in a suitable manner." 
 
 "But, my dear friend, what was there so unsuitable 
 in my dress? " 
 
 "I did not refer to your dress, my dear, but to your 
 manner. When a young man came up to speak to 
 you, you grew so distant that a foolish observer might 
 have thought that you feared for your virtue. You 
 seemed to think that a smile would compromise you; 
 you really appeared to be asking God to forgive the 
 sins of the persons who surrounded you. The world, 
 my dear angel, is not a convent. As you yourself 
 have mentioned dress, I will also say that it is a duty 
 in your position to follow the fashions and usages of 
 society." 
 
 "Do you wish me to show my shape like those 
 brazen women I saw last night, who wore their gowns 
 so low that any one could plunge his immodest eyes on 
 their bare shoulders and — " 
 
 "There 's a difference, my dear, between uncovering 
 the whole bust and giving grace and charm to the 
 figure," said the husband, interrupting the wife. 
 "You wore three rows of tulle ruches swathing your 
 neck up to your chin. You really seem to have begged 
 
250 A Double Life. 
 
 your dressmaker to destroy the grace of your shoulders 
 and the outline of your bust with as much care as a 
 coquettish woman puts into the choice of becoming 
 garments. Your neck was buried under such innu- 
 merable pleats and folds that people laughed last night 
 at your affected modesty. You would be horrified if 
 I repeated to you the unpleasant things that were said 
 of you." 
 
 "Those to whom such obscenities are pleasing will 
 not be burdened by the weight of my sins," replied 
 the young wife, dryly. 
 
 "You did not dance," said Granville. 
 
 "I shall never dance," she replied. 
 
 "But if I say that you ought to dance? " said the 
 magistrate, hastily. "Yes, you ought to follow the 
 fashions, wear flowers in your hair, and diamonds. 
 Reflect, my dear, that rich people, and we are rich, 
 are bound to maintain the luxury of a State. Is n't it 
 better to keep the manufactories busy and prosperous 
 than spend your money in alms, through the clergy? " 
 
 "You talk like a politician," said Angelique. 
 
 "And you like a churchman," he replied, sharply. 
 
 The discussion now became very bitter. Madame 
 de Granville put into her answers, which were very 
 gentle, and uttered in tones as clear as the tinkling of 
 a bell, a stolid obstinacy which betrayed the sacerdotal 
 influence. She claimed the rights which Granville's 
 promise secured to her, and told him that her con- 
 fessor had expressly forbidden her to go to balls. In 
 reply Granville endeavored to prove to her that the 
 priest was exceeding the rights of his office according 
 to the regulations of the Church itself. 
 
A Double Life. 251 
 
 This odious dispute was renewed with far more 
 violence and acrimony on both sides when Granville 
 wished his wife to accompany him to the theatre. 
 Finally the husband, for the sole purpose of breaking 
 down the pernicious influence exercised by the con- 
 fessor, brought the quarrel to such a pitch that Madame 
 de Granville, driven to bay, wrote to the court of 
 Rome to inquire whether a woman could, without 
 losing her salvation, wear a low dress and go to the 
 theatre to please her husband. An answer was 
 promptly returned by the venerable Pius VII. , who 
 strongly condemned the wife's resistance and blamed 
 the confessor. This letter, a true conjugal catechism, 
 seemed as if it were dictated by the tender voice of 
 Fenelon, whose grace and sweetness emanated from 
 it. "A wife," it said, "is in her right place wherever 
 her husband takes her." "If she commits a sin by 
 his order, it is not she who will answer for that 
 sin." These two passages in the pope's homily made 
 Madame de Granville and her confessor accuse the 
 pontiff of irreligion. 
 
 Before the letter arrived, Granville had discovered 
 the strict observance of the ecclesiastical laws of fast- 
 ing, which his wife now imposed upon him more 
 openly; and he gave orders to the servants that he 
 himself was to be served with meat daily. Notwith- 
 standing the extreme displeasure which this order 
 caused his. wife, Granville, to whom feast or fast 
 was of little real consequence, maintained it with 
 virile firmness. The feeblest of thinking creatures is 
 wounded in his inmost being when another will than 
 his own imposes secretly a thing he would have done 
 
252 A Double Life. 
 
 of his own monition willingly. Of all tyrannies, the 
 most odious is that which deprives the soul of the 
 merit of its actions and its thoughts ; the mind is made 
 to abdicate without having reigned. The sweetest 
 word to say, the tenderest feeling to express, die on 
 our lips when we think they are compulsory. 
 
 Before long the young magistrate gave up receiving 
 his friends either at dinner or in the evening; the 
 house soon seemed to be one of mourning. A house- 
 hold which has a devote for its mistress assumes a 
 peculiar aspect. The servants under the eye of such a 
 woman are chosen from among those self-called pious 
 persons who have a physiognomy of their own. Just 
 as a jovial youth entering the gendarmerie acquires 
 the gendarme face, so domestic servants who are 
 trained to the practice of devotion contract a uniform 
 and peculiar countenance, a habit of lowering the eyes, 
 of maintaining an attitude of compunction, a livery of 
 cant, in short, which humbugs wear marvellously well. 
 
 Besides this, devotes form among themselves a 
 species of republic; they all know one another; their 
 servants, whom they recommend within their own 
 circle, are like a race apart, preserved by them as 
 horse-breeders admit to their stables only such animals 
 as possess a clear pedigree. The more a so-called 
 unbeliever examines the home of a devote, the more 
 he finds that everything about it is stamped with an 
 indescribable unpleasantness. He finds there the 
 symptoms of avarice and mystery that characterize 
 the house of a usurer; also that perfumed dampness of 
 incense which makes the chilly atmosphere of chapels. 
 The paltry rigor, the poverty of ideas which appear 
 
A Double Life. 253 
 
 in all things can only be expressed by the one word 
 bigotry. In these repellent, implacable houses bigotry 
 is painted on the walls, the furniture, in the pictures,- 
 the engravings; the talk is bigoted, the silence is 
 bigoted, the faces are bigoted. The transformation 
 of things and men into bigotry is an inexplicable 
 mystery; but the fact exists. Every one must have 
 observed that bigots do not walk, or sit down, or 
 speak, as walk, sit, and speak the rest of the world: 
 in their presence others are embarrassed; no one 
 laughs; all things are rigid, stiff, uniform, from the 
 cap of the mistress of the house to her pincushion 
 with its even rows of pins; glances are not open or 
 frank; the servants seem shadows; the lady of the 
 house sits enthroned on ice. 
 
 One morning poor Granville became aware, with 
 pain and sadness, of the symptoms of bigotry now 
 established in his home. We find in the world certain 
 social spheres where the same effects exist, though 
 produced by other causes. Ennui draws around these 
 unhappy homes a circlet of iron which encloses the 
 horrors of the desert and the infinitude of the void. 
 A household is then, not a tomb, but something worse, 
 — a convent. 
 
 In the centre of this glacial sphere the magistrate 
 now contemplated his wife without passion or illu- 
 sion; he remarked with keen regret the narrowness of 
 her ideas, betrayed externally by the way the hair 
 grew on the low forehead which was hollow beneath 
 the temples. He saw in the perfect regularity of her 
 features something, it is hard to say what, of fixed- 
 ness and rigidity which made him almost hate the 
 
254 A Double Life. 
 
 specious gentleness by which he had been won. He 
 felt that the day might come when those thin lips 
 would say to him in presence of some misfortune: 
 "It is sent for your good, my friend." 
 
 Madame de Granville's face was gradually assuming 
 a wan complexion and a stern expression which killed 
 all joy in those who came in contact with her. Was 
 this change brought about by the ascetic habits of a 
 piety which is no more true piety than avarice is 
 economy ; or was it produced by the dryness natural 
 to a bigoted soul? It would be difficult to say; beauty 
 without passion is perhaps an imposture. The imper- 
 turbable smile which this young woman trained upon 
 her face as she looked at her husband, seemed to be 
 a sort of jesuitized formula of happiness by which she 
 believed she satisfied the demands of marriage. Her 
 charity wounded, her passionless beauty seemed a 
 monstrosity to those who observed her; the softest of 
 her speeches made them impatient, for she was not 
 obeying a feeling, but a sense of duty. 
 
 There are certain defects which, in a woman, will 
 often yield to lessons of experience or to the influ- 
 ence of a husband, but nothing can ever overcome the 
 tyranny of false religious ideas. An eternity of hap- 
 piness to win, put into the scales against earthly 
 pleasure, will always triumph, and make all things 
 bearable. May not this be called deified egotism, the 
 / beyond the grave ? Even the pope was condemned 
 before the judgment-seat of the canon and the young 
 devote. The impossibility of being wrong is a feeling 
 that ends by superseding all others in these despotic 
 souls. 
 
A Double Life. 255 
 
 Thus, for some time past, an underground struggle 
 had been going on between the opposing ideas of hus- 
 band and wife, but Granville was now weary of a 
 battle which he saw would never cease. What hus- 
 band could bear incessantly before him the sight of 
 a face hypocritically affectionate, and the annoyance 
 of categorical remonstrances opposed to his slightest 
 will ? How treat a woman who uses your passion to 
 protect her own want of feeling, who seems resolved 
 to remain inexorably gentle, and prepares with delight 
 to play the part of victim, regarding her husband as 
 an instrument of God, — a scourge, whose flagellations 
 are to spare her those of purgatory ? But what descrip- 
 tion can give an idea of these women who make virtue 
 odious by distorting the precepts of a religion which 
 Saint John summed up in one, namely: "Love one 
 another? " 
 
 Thus, in that domestic existence which needs so 
 much expansion, Granville's life was now companion- 
 less. Nothing in his home was sympathetic to him. 
 The large crucifix placed between his wife's bed and 
 his own was like a symbol of his destiny. Did it not 
 represent the killing of a divine thing, — the death of 
 a God-man in all the beauty of life and youth? The 
 ivory of that cross was less cold than Angelique as 
 she sacrificed her husband in the name of virtue. The 
 misery of the young magistrate became intense; he 
 went alone into the world, and to theatres; his wife 
 saw only duties, and pleasures to be shunned in mar- 
 riage, but what could he say? he could not even com- 
 plain. He possessed a young and pretty wife, attached 
 to her duties, virtuous, — the model, in fact, of all the 
 
256 A Double Life. 
 
 virtues. She brought him a child every year; nursed 
 her children, and trained them up to the highest prin- 
 ciples. Her charitable soul was thought angelic. The 
 elderly women who composed the society in which she 
 lived (for in those days young women had not as yet 
 taken it into their heads to make a fashion of devo- 
 tion) admired Madame de Granville's zealous piety, 
 and regarded her, if not as a virgin, at least as a 
 martyr. 
 
 Insensibly, Granville, overwhelmed with toil, de- 
 prived of pleasures, weary of society where he wan- 
 dered alone, fell, by the time he was thirty-two, into 
 a condition of painful apathy. Life became odious 
 to him. Having too high a sense of his obligations 
 to allow himself to fall into irregular ways, he en- 
 deavored to stupefy himself by toil, and began a great 
 work on a legal subject. But he did not long enjoy 
 that form of monastic peace on which he had counted. 
 
 When the pious Angelique saw that he deserted 
 society and worked at home with a sort of regularity, 
 she thought the time had come to convert him. To 
 feel that her husband's views were not Christian was 
 a genuine grief to her; she often wept at the thought 
 that if he died suddenly he would perish in his sin, 
 and she could then have no hope of saving him from 
 the flames of eternal punishment. Henceforth Gran- 
 ville became a target for the petty thrusts, the paltry 
 arguments, the narrow views by which his wife, who 
 thought she had won a first victory by withdrawing 
 him from the world, endeavored to obtain a second by 
 bringing him into the pale of the Church. 
 
 This was the last drop to his cup of misery. What 
 
A Double Life. 257 
 
 could be more intolerable than a dumb struggle in 
 which the obstinacy of a narrow mind endeavored to 
 subdue the intelligence of the lawyer; what more hor- 
 rible to bear than this acrid nagging to which a gen- 
 erous nature would far prefer an open stab? Granville 
 deserted his house, where all was now unbearable to 
 him. His children, subjected to the cold despotism 
 of their mother, were not allowed to accompany him 
 to the theatre ; he was literally unable to give them a 
 single pleasure without drawing down upon them a 
 rebuke from his wife. This man, naturally loving, 
 was driven into a condition of indifference, of selfish 
 egotism, which to him was worse than death. 
 
 He saved his sons as soon as possible from the hell 
 of this life by sending them to school at an early age, 
 and by maintaining firmly his right to manage them. 
 He did not interfere, or interfered very rarely, between 
 the mother and her daughters, though he resolved to 
 marry the latter as soon as they attained to a mar- 
 riageable age. If he had taken a more decided and 
 violent course nothing would have justified it. His 
 wife, supported by the formidable circle of pious 
 dowagers among whom she lived, could have shown 
 his injustice to all the world. Granville had literally 
 no other resource than a life of isolation. Crushed 
 under the tyranny of these misfortunes, his very feat- 
 ures, withered and hardened by grief and toil, became 
 displeasing to himself; he shrank from all intercourse 
 with others, especially with women of society, from 
 whom he despaired of gaining any comfort. 
 
 The didactic history of this sad household during 
 the fifteen years between 1806 and 1821 offers no 
 
 17 
 
258 A Double Life. 
 
 scene that is worthy of being related. Madame de 
 Granville remained precisely the same woman after 
 she had lost her husband's heart as she was in the 
 days when she called herself happy. She made no- 
 venas, praying God and the saints to enlighten her 
 mind as to the faults by which she displeased her 
 husband, and to show her the means of bringing back 
 that erring sheep into the fold. But the more fervent 
 her prayers, the less her husband appeared in his 
 home. For five years past Granville, now attorney- 
 general under the Restoration, had taken up his abode 
 on the ground-floor of his house to avoid the necessity 
 of living with his wife. Every morning a scene took 
 place which (if we may believe the gossip of society) 
 occurs in the bosom of many a family, — produced by 
 incompatibility of temper, or by mental and physical 
 diseases, or by antagonisms which bring the results 
 related in this history to many a marriage. Every 
 morning at eight o'clock the countess's waiting- 
 woman, looking much like a nun, rang at the door of 
 the count's apartment. Shown into the salon adjoin- 
 ing the magistrate's study, she gave to the valet, and 
 always in the same tone, this stereotyped message : — 
 
 "Madame begs to know if Monsieur le comte has 
 passed a good night, and whether she shall have the 
 pleasure of breakfasting with him." 
 
 "Monsieur," the valet would reply, after conveying 
 the message to his master, "presents his regards to 
 Madame la comtesse and begs her to excuse him; an 
 important affair obliges him to go to the Palais at 
 once." 
 
 A few moments later the maid would reappear to 
 
A Double Life. 259 
 
 ask in Madame' s name if she should have the pleasure 
 of seeing Monsieur le comte before he went out. 
 
 "He has gone already," the valet would reply, 
 though the count's carriage might be still in the court- 
 yard. 
 
 This ambassadorial dialogue was a daily ceremony. 
 Granville' 3 valet, who, being a favorite with his mas- 
 ter, was the cause of more than one quarrel in the 
 household on account of his irreligion and moral 
 laxity, would sometimes take the message as a matter 
 of form into the study when the count was not there, 
 bringing back the accustomed answer. The afflicted 
 wife would often watch for her husband's return and 
 go down to the vestibule and place herself in his way 
 to awaken his remorse. This petty teasing, charac- 
 teristic of monastic life, was a strong feature in the 
 nature of this woman, who, though she was only thirty- 
 five, now looked to be over forty. 
 
 The presidency of a royal court in the provinces 
 was offered to the Comte de Granville, who stood well 
 in favor with the King, but he begged the ministry 
 to allow him to remain in Paris. This refusal, the 
 reasons for which were known only to the Keeper of 
 the Seals, suggested various strange conjectures among 
 the intimates of the countess, and more especially to 
 her confessor. Granville, the possessor of a hun- 
 dred thousand francs a year, belonged to one of the 
 highest families in Normandy ; his appointment to a 
 royal court was a first step to the peerage. Why, 
 then, such a lack of ambition ? Why had he given up 
 his great work on Law? Whence this unnatural life 
 which had made him for the last five years almost a 
 
260 A Double Life. 
 
 stranger to his home, his duties, and to all that ought 
 to be dear to him? The countess's confessor, who 
 relied on the support of the families where he ruled to 
 advance him to a bishopric, had met with disappoint- 
 ment from Granville, who refused him his influence; 
 and he now aspersed him with suppositions. 
 
 "If Monsieur le comte," he said, "was reluctant 
 to live in the provinces, it was probably because he 
 feared the necessity of having to lead a moral life. 
 The position of a chief-justice would force him to live 
 with his wife and abandon all illicit connections. A 
 woman as pure as the Comtesse de Granville could 
 never overlook the fact, if it came to her knowledge, 
 of her husband's irregularities. 
 
 Angelique's dowager friends did not leave her in 
 ignorance of these remarks, which, alas! were not 
 groundless ; the effect upon her was that of a thunder- 
 bolt. 
 
 Without any just ideas of life or of society, igno- 
 rant of love and its madness, Madame de Granville 
 was so far from supposing that marriage could bring 
 other troubles than those which alienated her from her 
 husband, that she thought him incapable of the faults 
 which are the crimes of married life. When the count 
 no longer sought her society and lived apart, she 
 imagined that the calmness of such a life was that of 
 nature. She had given him all the affection her heart 
 was capable of giving to a man, and these conjectures 
 of her confessor completely destroyed all the illusions 
 in which she had lived up to that moment. At first, 
 therefore, she defended her husband; although, at the 
 same time, she was unable to put away the suspicions 
 
A Double Life. 261 
 
 so cleverly introduced into her mind. This struggle 
 caused such ravages in her feeble brain that before long 
 her health gave way and she fell a victim to slow fever. 
 
 These events took place during the Lent of 1822, 
 but her piety would not relax its austerities, and she 
 finally reached a state of exhaustion in which her very 
 life seemed threatened. Granville's indifference to 
 her condition wounded her deeply. His attentions 
 were more like those that a nephew compels himself to 
 pay to an uncle. Though the countess tried to greet 
 her husband with pleasant words, and renounced for 
 the time being her system of nagging remonstrance, 
 the sourness of the devote was still perceptible, and 
 often destroyed by a few words the work of days. 
 
 Toward the end of May, the balmy breath of spring 
 and a more nourishing diet than Lent allowed brought 
 back some strength to Madame de Granville. One 
 morning, on her return from mass, she seated herself 
 on a stone bench in her little garden, where the warm 
 caresses of the sunshine recalled to her the pleasant 
 early days of her marriage. Her mind took in at a 
 glance the whole of her married life, striving to see 
 in what possible way she could have failed in her 
 duty as wife and mother. While she sat there the 
 Abbe Fontanon appeared, in a state of very evident 
 agitation. 
 
 "Has anything happened to distress you, father?" 
 she asked, with filial solicitude. 
 
 "Ah! I would that all the misfortunes which the 
 hand of God is laying heavily upon you, were laid 
 on me," said the Norman priest. "But, my worthy 
 friend, these are trials to which you must submit." 
 
262 A Double Life. 
 
 "Can any chastisement be greater than that to which 
 the Divine Providence has already subjected me, using 
 my husband as the instrument of its wrath? " 
 
 " Prepare yourself, my daughter, for greater sorrow 
 than any you have hitherto undergone." 
 
 "Then I thank God that he deigns to make use of 
 you to lay his will upon me," said the countess, "fol- 
 lowing the vials of his wrath with the treasures of his 
 mercy, even as he showed to Hagar in the desert a 
 living spring." 
 
 "He allots your penalties to the weight of your sins 
 and the measure of your resignation," said the priest. 
 
 "Speak, father; I am ready to hear all;" so say- 
 ing, the countess raised her eyes to heaven ; then she 
 said again, "Speak, Monsieur Fontanon." 
 
 "For the last seven years Monsieur de Granville 
 has committed the crime of adultery with a concubine 
 by whom he has two children. He has spent upon 
 this illicit household more than five hundred thousand 
 francs, which ought to have belonged to his legitimate 
 family." 
 
 "I must see that with my own eyes before I believe 
 it," said the countess. 
 
 "No, be very careful to avoid that," said the 
 priest. "My daughter, it is your duty to forgive, and 
 to wait, in prayer, till God sees fit to change your 
 husband's heart. You must not employ such human 
 means against him." 
 
 The long conversation which followed produced a 
 violent change in the whole manner and appearance 
 of the countess. She dismissed the confessor at last, 
 and appeared with a flushed face before her servants, 
 
A Double Life. 263 
 
 who were frightened by an activity which seemed 
 almost insane. She ordered her carriage, then she 
 countermanded it, ordered it again, and changed her 
 mind a score of times within an hour. Finally, how- 
 ever, she appeared to come to a decisive resolution, 
 and started from home at three o'clock, leaving her 
 household amazed at her sudden action. 
 
 "Will your master be home to dinner? " she asked 
 the valet (to whom she usually never spoke) as she 
 left the house. 
 
 "No, madame." 
 
 "Did he go to the Palais this morning? " 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "To-day is Monday?" 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "Is the Palais open on Mondays now? " 
 
 "The devil take her! " thought the valet as the 
 countess got into her carriage and gave the order: 
 "Rue Taitbout." 
 
 Caroline de Belief euille was weeping; beside her 
 was Roger, holding one of her hands in both of his. 
 He was silent, looking alternately at little Charles, 
 who could not understand his mother's grief, at the 
 cradle where the baby Eugenie was sleeping, and then 
 at the face of his friend, where the tears were falling 
 like rain on a sunshiny day. 
 
 'Yes, my angel," said Roger, after a long silence, 
 "that is the truth; I am married. But some day, I 
 hope, I may have but one life, one home. My wife 
 is in wretched health ; I do not wish her death ; but if 
 it pleases God to take her, I think she will be happier 
 
264 A Double Life. 
 
 in paradise than she has been in a world the pains and 
 pleasures of which have never touched her." 
 
 "I hate that woman! How could she make you so 
 unhappy ? And yet it is to that misfortune that I owe 
 my happiness." 
 
 Her tears ceased suddenly. 
 
 "Caroline, let us hope on," cried Roger, with a kiss. 
 " Never mind what the abbe said to you. Though that 
 confessor is a dangerous man on account of his influ- 
 ence in the Church, if he attempts to disturb our 
 relation I shall — " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Take you to Italy; I will flee — " 
 
 A cry coming from the next room made them start; 
 they both rushed there, and found Madame de Gran- 
 ville fainting on the floor. When she recovered her 
 senses she gave a deep sigh on seeing herself between 
 her husband and her rival, whom she pushed aside 
 with an involuntary gesture of contempt. 
 
 Caroline rose to go. 
 
 "Stay where you are," said the count. "This is 
 your house." 
 
 Then he took his fainting wife in his arms and car- 
 ried her to her carriage, into which he followed her. 
 
 "What has made you desire my death? Why should 
 you wish to flee me?" she asked, in a weak voice, 
 looking at her husband with as much indignation as 
 grief. "Was I not young? Did you not think me 
 beautiful? What blame can you lay at my door? 
 Did I ever deceive you 'i Have I not been a good and 
 virtuous wife to you? My heart has held no image 
 but yours; my ears have listened to no voice but 
 
A Double Life. 265 
 
 yours. What duty did I fail to perform? Have I 
 ever refused you anything ? " 
 
 "Yes; happiness," replied the count, in a firm voice. 
 "There are two ways of serving God. Some Chris- 
 tians imagine that by entering a church and saying a 
 Pater Noster, by hearing mass at stated times and 
 abstaining from sinful acts they must win heaven; 
 such persons go to hell; they have never loved God 
 for God's sake; they do not worship him as he seeks 
 to be worshipped; they have made him no sacrifice. 
 Though gentle apparently, they are harsh to their 
 neighbor; they see the law, the letter, but not the 
 spirit. That is how you have acted with your earthly 
 husband. You have sacrificed my happiness to your 
 salvation. You were absorbed in the contemplation 
 of that when I came to you with eager heart ; you wept 
 and fasted when you might have eased and brightened 
 my toil ; you have never satisfied one pleasurable desire 
 of my life." 
 
 "But if those desires were criminal," cried the 
 countess, hotly, "was I to lose my soul to please you? " 
 
 "That sacrifice a more loving woman has had the 
 courage to make," replied the count, coldly. 
 
 "Oh, God!" she said, weeping. "Thou hearest 
 him! Was he worthy of the prayers and penances in 
 which I have spent my life to redeem his sins and my 
 own ? Of what good is virtue ? " 
 
 "To win heaven, my dear; you could not be the 
 bride of heaven and of man both; it was bigamy. 
 You should have chosen between a husband and a con- 
 vent. Instead of that, for the sake of your future 
 salvation, you have robbed your soul and mine of 
 
266 A Double Life 
 
 love, of all the devotion God bestows upon a woman ; 
 of the earthly emotions you have kept but one — and 
 that is hatred." 
 
 "Have I not loved you? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What, then, is love?" she said, involuntarily. 
 
 "Love, my dear?" said Granville, with a sort of 
 ironical surprise. "You are not in a condition to 
 understand it. The sky of Normandy is never that 
 of Spain. Perhaps the question of climate is really 
 one of the secrets of unhappiness. Love is a mutual 
 yielding to each other's likes and dislikes and 
 dividing them. Love finds pleasure in pain, in sacri- 
 ficing to another the opinion of the world, self-love, 
 self-interest, religion even, — regarding all such offer- 
 ings as grains of incense burned on the altar of an 
 idol; that is love." 
 
 "The love of a ballet-girl," said the countess, hor- 
 rified; "such passions cannot last; they leave noth- 
 ing behind them but cinders and ashes, remorse and 
 despair. A wife should give her husband, as I think, 
 true friendship, an equable warmth, an — " 
 
 "You talk of warmth as negroes talk of ice," inter- 
 rupted the count, with a sardonic smile. " Remember 
 that the humblest wild-flower is more to us than a rose 
 with thorns. But," he added, "I will do you justice. 
 You have so firmly maintained the line of conduct pre- 
 scribed by law that, in order to show you where you 
 have failed toward me, I should have to enter upon 
 certain details which your dignity would not permit, 
 and say certain things which would seem to you the 
 reverse of moral." 
 
A Double Life. 267 
 
 a- 
 
 Do you dare to speak of morality, — you who are 
 leaving the house of a mistress where you have squan- 
 dered the property of your children in debauchery?" 
 cried the countess. 
 
 "Madame, I stop you there," said the count, coolly, 
 interrupting his wife. "If Mademoiselle de Belle- 
 feuille is rich it is not at my expense. My uncle was 
 master of his fortune; he had many heirs. During 
 his lifetime, and solely out of regard for a young 
 woman whom he considered in the light of a niece, 
 he gave her the estate of Belief euille." 
 
 " Such conduct is worthy of a Jacobin ! " cried the 
 pious Angelique. 
 
 "You forget that your father was one of those Jaco- 
 bins whom you, a woman, condemn with so little 
 charity," said the count, sternly. "The citizen Bon- 
 tems was signing death-warrants at the time when my 
 uncle was rendering great services to France." 
 
 Madame de Granville made no reply. But, after a 
 moment's silence, the recollection of what she had just 
 seen awoke the jealousy which nothing can quench in 
 a woman's soul, and she said, in a low voice, as if 
 speaking to herself: — 
 
 " How can a man lose his soul and that of others in 
 this way? " 
 
 "Ah! madame," said the count, weary of the fruit- 
 less conversation, "perhaps it is you who will have to 
 answer for all this." 
 
 These words made the countess tremble. 
 
 " But you will no doubt be excused in the eyes of 
 that indulgent Judge who understands our faults," he 
 added, " in virtue of the sincerity with which you have 
 
268 A Double Life. 
 
 wrought the ruin of my life. I do not hate you; I 
 hate those who have distorted your heart and mind. 
 You have prayed for me doubtless as sincerely as 
 Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille has given me her heart 
 and crowned me with love. You should have been 
 both mistress and saint. Do me the justice to 
 acknowledge that I have not been either wicked or 
 debauched. My morals are pure. But alas! at the 
 end of seven years' wretchedness, the need of being 
 happy led me, almost insensibly, to love another 
 woman, and to create for myself another home than 
 mine. Do not think I am the only man in Paris who 
 has done this. Thousands of other husbands are 
 driven, by one cause or another, to lead this double 
 life." 
 
 "O God! " cried the countess, "how heavy is the 
 cross I have to bear! If the husband whom thou 
 gavest me in thy wrath can be happy only through my 
 death, recall me to thy bosom! " 
 
 "Had you shown those admirable feelings of self- 
 sacrifice earlier," said the count, coldly, "we should 
 still be happy." 
 
 "Well, then," said Angelique, bursting into tears, 
 "forgive me if I have really done wrong. Yes, I am 
 ready to obey you in all things, certain that you will 
 only ask that which is natural and right. Henceforth 
 I will be to you whatever you desire." 
 
 "If it is your intention to force me to say that I no 
 longer love you, I must have the dreadful courage to 
 say it. Can I control my heart? Can I efface in one 
 moment the memories of fifteen years of misery? I 
 love no more. Those words enfold a mystery as deep 
 
A Double Life. 269 
 
 as that contained in those other words, ' I love. ' 
 Esteem, respect, regard may be obtained, and lost, and 
 won again, but love, ah, never! I might goad myself 
 a thousand years and it could not live again, especially 
 for one who has wilfully destroyed her charm." 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur le comte, I sincerely hope the day 
 may never come when those words shall be said to 
 you by her you love, in the tone and manner with 
 which you say them now." 
 
 "Will you come with me to-night to the Opera and 
 wear a ball dress? " 
 
 The shudder of repugnance which that sudden 
 demand produced was her answer to the question. 
 
270 A Double Life. 
 
 III. 
 
 RESULT. 
 
 On one of the first days of December, 1833, a man 
 whose snow-white hair and countenance appeared to 
 show that grief had aged him more than years (for 
 he seemed about sixty) was passing through the rue 
 Gaillon after midnight. He paused before a poor- 
 looking house of three stories to examine one of the 
 windows which were placed at equal distances in the 
 mansarde roof. A faint gleam came from its humble 
 sash, in which some panes were replaced by paper. 
 The passer was looking at that flickering light with 
 the idle curiosity of a Parisian lounger, when a young 
 man came suddenly and rapidly from the house. As 
 the pale rays of the street lamp fell upon the face of 
 the older man, he seemed not wholly surprised when, 
 in spite of the darkness, the young man came to him, 
 with the precautions used in Paris when one fears to 
 be mistaken in a recognition. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the latter, "is it really you, 
 Monsieur le comte, alone, on foot, at this hour, and 
 so far from the rue Saint-Lazare? Allow me the 
 honor of offering you my arm. The pavement to- 
 night is so slippery that unless we support each 
 other," he added, to spare the pride of the old man, 
 "we shall find it difficult to escape a fall." 
 
A Double Life. 271 
 
 "But, my dear friend, I am only fifty-nine years of 
 age — unhappily for me," said the Comte de Granville. 
 "So celebrated a physician as yourself ought to know 
 that a man is in his full vigor at that time of life." 
 
 "Then you must be engaged in some love affair," 
 replied Horace Bianchon, laughing. "You are not, I 
 am sure, accustomed to go on foot. When a man has 
 such horses as yours — " 
 
 "But the greater part of the time," said the Comte 
 de Granville, "I do return from the Palais, or the 
 Cercle des Etrangers, on foot " 
 
 "And carrying, no doubt, on your person large sums 
 of money. Is n't that inviting a dagger, Monsieur le 
 comte?" 
 
 "I am not afraid of such daggers," replied the count 
 with a careless though melancholy air. 
 
 "But at any rate you ought not to stand still," said 
 the physician, drawing the magistrate on toward the 
 boulevard. "A little more, and I shall think you 
 want to rob me of your last illness, and to die by 
 another hand than mine." 
 
 "Well, you surprised me engaged in a bit of spy- 
 ing," said the count, smiling. "Whether I pass 
 through this street on foot or in a carriage, at any 
 hour of the night I am certain to see at a third story 
 window of the house you have just left the shadow of a 
 person who appears to be working with heroic courage." 
 
 So saying, the count stopped short, as if some sud- 
 den pang had seized him. 
 
 "I take as much interest in that attic," he con- 
 tinued, "as a Parisian bourgeois feels in the comple- 
 tion of the Palais-Royal — " 
 
272 A Double Life. 
 
 U' 
 
 •Well," cried Horace, eagerly, interrupting the 
 count, "I can tell you — " 
 
 "Tell me nothing," said Granville, cutting short the 
 doctor's words. "I wouldn't give a penny to know 
 if the shadow that flickers on that ragged curtain is 
 that of a man or woman, or if the occupant of that 
 garret is happy or unhappy. If I was surprised to- 
 night not to see that person working, and if I stopped 
 for a moment to gaze at the window, it was solely for 
 the amusement of making conjectures as numerous and 
 as silly as those the street idlers make about buildings 
 in course of erection. For the last nine years, my 
 young — " 
 
 He stopped, seemed to hesitate to use some expres- 
 sion, and then, with a hasty gesture, added : — 
 
 "No, I will not call you friend; I detest every sem- 
 blance of sentiment. For the last nine years, as I 
 was saying, I am no longer surprised that old people 
 take pleasure in cultivating flowers and planting trees. 
 The events of life have taught them not to trust in 
 human affections. I grew an old man suddenly; I 
 attach myself now to none but animals ; I will call no 
 man friend. I abhor the life of the world, in which I 
 am alone. Nothing, nothing," added the count, with an 
 expression which made the young man shudder, — "noth- 
 ing can move me now, and nothing can interest me." 
 
 "But you have children? " 
 
 "My children!" he replied, in a tone of strange 
 bitterness. "Yes, my eldest daughter is the Comtesse 
 cle Vandenesse. As for the other, her sister's mar- 
 riage has opened the way to hers. My two sons have 
 met with great success ; the vicomte is attorney-gen- 
 
A Double Life. 273 
 
 eral at Limoges, and the younger is king's attorney. 
 My children have their own interests, cares, and 
 solicitudes. If a single one among them had tried to 
 fill the void that is here" he said, striking his breast, 
 "well, that one would have ruined his or her life by 
 sacrificing it to me! And why have done so, after 
 all, merely to brighten my few remaining years? 
 Besides, could it have been done ? Should I not have 
 looked upon such generous care as the payment of a 
 debt? But — " 
 
 Here the old man smiled with deepest irony. 
 
 "But, doctor, the lessons we teach our children in 
 arithmetic are never lost; they learn how to calcu- 
 late — their inheritance. At this moment mine are 
 reckoning on that." 
 
 "Oh! Monsieur le comte, how can such thoughts 
 have come into your mind ? — you, so kind, so obliging, 
 so humane? Ami not myself a living proof of the 
 beneficence of which you take so broad and grand a 
 view r 
 
 "For my own pleasure," said the count, hastily. 
 "I pay for a sensation as I shall pay to-morrow in 
 piles of gold for the paltry excitement of play, which 
 stirs my heart for an instant. I help my fellow-mor- 
 tals for the same reason that I play at cards. There- 
 fore I look for no gratitude from any one. Ah ! young 
 man, the events of life have flowed across my soul like 
 the lava of Vesuvius through Herculaneum; the city 
 exists, dead." 
 
 "Those who have brought a soul so warm and living: 
 as yours to such a point of insensibility are guilty of 
 an awful wrong." 
 
 18 
 
274 A Double Life. 
 
 "Not another word! " cried the count, with a look 
 of horror. 
 
 "You have a malady upon you which you ought to 
 let me cure," said Bianchon, in a voice of emotion. 
 
 "Do you know a cure for death?" exclaimed the 
 count, impatiently. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur le comte, I will engage to stir that 
 heart you call so dead." 
 
 "Are you another Talma? " 
 
 if 
 
 No; but Nature is as far superior to Talma as 
 Talma may be to me. Hear me : that garret at which 
 you gazed with interest is inhabited by a woman, 
 some thirty years of age, in whom love has become 
 fanaticism. The object of her worship is a young 
 man of fine appearance, to whom some evil genius 
 gave at birth all the vices of humanity. He is a 
 gambler ; whether he loves women or wine best no one 
 could decide; he has committed, to my knowledge, 
 crimes that should have brought him to the correc- 
 tional police. Well, that unhappy woman sacrificed 
 for him a happy life, a man who adored her, by 
 whom she had two children — What is it, Monsieur 
 le comte ? are you ill ? " 
 
 "No, nothing; goon!" 
 
 "She has let him squander her whole property; she 
 would give him, I think, the world if she had it; 
 night and day she works; often, without a murmur, 
 she has seen that monster take the money she had 
 earned to clothe her children — nay, their very food 
 for the morrow! Three days ago she sold her hair, 
 the finest I ever saw; that man came in before she 
 hid the bit of gold; he claimed it; for a smile, a kiss, 
 
A Double Life. 275 
 
 she gave him the value of clays of life and comfort! 
 Is not such love both shocking and sublime? But toil 
 and hunger have begun to waste her strength; the 
 cries of her children torture her; she has fallen ill; 
 to-night she is moaning on her pallet, unable, as you 
 saw, to work. The children have had no food all day ; 
 they have ceased to cry, being too weak; they were 
 silent when I got there." 
 
 Bianchon stopped. The Comte de Granville, as if 
 in spite of himself, had plunged his hand into his 
 pocket. 
 
 "I foresee, my young friend, that she will live," 
 said the old man, "if you take care of her." 
 
 "Ah! poor creature," cried the doctor, "who would 
 not take care of one so wretched ? But I hope to do 
 more; I hope to cure her of her love." 
 
 "But," said the count, withdrawing his hand full of 
 bank-notes from his pocket, "why should I pity a 
 wretchedness whose joys would seem to me worth 
 more than all my fortune? She feels, she lives, that 
 woman ! Louis XV. would have given his whole king- 
 dom to rise from his coffin and have three days of 
 youth and life. Is not that the history of millions 
 of dead men, millions of sick men, millions of old 
 men?" 
 
 "Poor Caroline! " exclaimed the physician. 
 
 Hearing that name the Comte de Granville quivered ; 
 he seized the arm of his companion, who fancied him- 
 self gripped by iron pincers. 
 
 " Is she Caroline Crochard ? " asked the old man, in 
 a faltering voice. 
 
 "Then you know her? " replied the doctor. 
 
276 A Double Life. 
 
 "And that wretch is named Solvet — Ah! you 
 have kept your word; you have stirred my heart by 
 the most terrible sensation I shall know till I am 
 dust," said the count. "Another of hell's gifts!" he 
 cried; "but I know how to pay them back." 
 
 At that moment the count and Bianchon had reached 
 the corner of the rue de la Chaussee-d'Antin. One of 
 those night-birds, a scavenger, with his basket on his 
 back and a hook in his hand, was close beside the 
 post where the count had now stopped short. The 
 face of the old rag-picker was worthy of those which 
 Charlet has immortalized in his sketches of the school 
 of sweepers. 
 
 " Do you often pick up thousand-franc notes ? " the 
 count said to him. 
 
 "Sometimes, my master." 
 
 "Do you return them? " 
 
 "That's according to the reward offered." 
 
 "Here, my man," cried the count, giving him a note 
 for a thousand francs. "Take that; but remember 
 that I give it to you on condition that you spend it at 
 a tavern, get drunk upon it, quarrel, beat your wife, 
 stab your friends. That will set the watch, and sur- 
 geons and doctors, perhaps the gendarmes, the attor- 
 neys, the judges and the jailers all to work. Don't 
 change that programme, or the devil will revenge it on 
 you." 
 
 It needs an artist with the pencil of Charlet and 
 Callot and the brushes of Teniers and Rembrandt to 
 give a true idea of this nocturnal scene. 
 
 "There 's my account settled, for the present, with 
 hell, and I have had some pleasure out of my money," 
 
A Double Life. 277 
 
 said the count in a deep voice, pointing out to the 
 stupefied physician the indescribable face of the gap- 
 ing rag-picker. "As for Caroline Crocharcl," he con- 
 tinued, "she may die in the tortures of hunger and 
 thirst, listening to the cries of her starving children, 
 recognizing the vileness of that man she loves. I will 
 not give one penny to keep her from suffering; and I 
 will never speak to you again, for the sole reason that 
 you have succored her." 
 
 The count left Bianchon standing motionless as a 
 statue, and disappeared, moving with the rapidity of 
 a young man in the direction of the rue Saint-Lazare. 
 When he reached the little house which he occupied 
 in that street, he saw, with some surprise, a carriage 
 before the door. 
 
 "Monsieur le procureur du roi," said his valet when 
 he entered, "has been here an hour, waiting to speak 
 with monsieur. He is in monsieur's bedroom." 
 
 Granville made a sign to the man, who retired. 
 
 "What motive could be strong enough to make you 
 break my express orders that none of my children 
 should come to this house without being sent for ? " 
 he said to his son as he entered the room. 
 
 "Father," said the son, respectfully, in a voice that 
 trembled, "I feel sure you will pardon me when you 
 have heard my reason." 
 
 "Your answer is a proper one," said his father, 
 pointing to a chair. "Sit down; but whether I sit or 
 walk about, pay no attention to my movements." 
 
 "Father," said the procureur du roi, "a young lad 
 has been arrested this evening at the house of a friend 
 
278 A Double Life. 
 
 of mine, where he committed a theft; the lad appeals 
 to you and says he is your son." 
 
 "His name? " asked the count, trembling. 
 
 "Charles Crochard." 
 
 44 Enough," said the father, with an imperative 
 gesture. 
 
 Granville walked up and down the room in a deep 
 silence which his son was careful not to break. 
 
 "My son," he said at last, in a tone so gentle, 
 so paternal that the young man quivered, "Charles 
 Crochard has told the truth. I am glad that you have 
 come to me, my good Eugene. Here is a sum of 
 money," he added, taking up a mass of bank-bills, 
 "which you must use as you see fit in this affair. I 
 trust in you, and I approve, in advance, all that you 
 may do, whether at the present time, or in the future. 
 Eugene, my dear son, kiss me; perhaps we now see 
 each other for the last time. To-morrow I shall ask 
 leave of absence of the king and start for Italy. 
 Though a father is not bound to account to his chil- 
 dren for his conduct, he ought to leave them as a 
 legacy the experience which fate has allotted to him, 
 — it is apart of their inheritance. When you marry," 
 continued the count, with an involuntary shudder, " do 
 not commit that act, the most important of all those 
 imposed upon us by society, thoughtlessly. Study 
 long the character of the woman with whom you asso- " 
 ciate yourself for life ; also consult me ; I should wish 
 to judge her for myself. A want of union between 
 husband and wife, however it may be caused, leads to 
 frightful evils. We are, sooner or later, punished for 
 
A Double Life. 279 
 
 not obeying social laws — But as to that, I will 
 write to you from Florence; a father, especially if 
 he has the honor to be a judge in the highest courts 
 of law, ought not to blush in presence of his son. 
 Farewell." 
 
THE PEACE OF A HOME. 
 
THE PEACE OF A HOME. 
 
 TO MY DEAR NIECE, VALENTINE SURVILLE. 
 
 The incident related in this Scene took place toward 
 the end of November, in the year 1809, at the period 
 when the fleeting empire of Napoleon was at its apogee 
 of splendor. The trumpets of the victory of Wagram 
 were still echoing in the heart of the Austrian mon- 
 archy. Peace was signed between France and the 
 Coalition. Kings and princes were coming, like 
 planets, to accomplish their evolutions round Napo- 
 leon, who gave himself the happiness of dragging all 
 Europe in his suite, — a magnificent exercise of power, 
 which he displayed later, and more signally, at 
 Dresden. 
 
 Never, within the knowledge of contemporaries, did 
 Paris witness such splendid fetes as those which pre- 
 ceded and followed the marriage of the sovereign with 
 the archduchess of Austria. Never, in the grandest 
 days of the old monarchy, had so many crowned heads 
 gathered on the banks of the Seine, and never was the 
 aristocracy of France so rich and brilliant. The dia- 
 monds profusely strewn upon all toilets, the gold and 
 silver lace of the uniforms contrasted so strongly with 
 
284 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 republican plainness that it seemed as if the riches of 
 the globe had suddenly been poured into the salons of 
 Paris. A general intoxication had, as it were, seized 
 upon that empire of a day. All the military, with the 
 one exception of their leader, were revelling like par- 
 venus in the treasures won by millions of men in 
 woollen epaulets, whose own demands were satisfied 
 with scraps of red ribbon. 
 
 At this period most women affected the ease and 
 laxity of morals which distinguished the reign of 
 Louis XV. Whether it was in imitation of the tone 
 of the fallen monarchy, or because certain members of 
 the imperial family set the example (as the cavillers 
 of the faubourg Saint-Germain averred), it is unde- 
 niable that men and women rushed into pleasures and 
 dissipation with a daring that seemed to foreshadow 
 a coming cataclysm. 
 
 There was, however, another reason for the license 
 that prevailed. The infatuation of women for the 
 military became an actual frenzy, and it suited the 
 views of the emperor too well to allow him to curb it. 
 The frequent call to arms, which made the treaties 
 concluded between Napoleon and the European powers 
 seem little more than armistices, exposed all passions 
 and courtships to chances and changes as rapid as the 
 marching and countermarching of the forces. Hearts 
 became as nomad as the regiments. Between a first 
 and a fifth bulletin from the Grand Army a woman 
 might have been, successively, mistress and wife, 
 mother and widow. Was it the perspective of prob- 
 able widowhood, or the hope of bearing a name 
 inscribed on the pages of history, that made these 
 
The Peace of a Home, 285 
 
 imperial soldiers so seductive? Were women drawn 
 to these heroes by the thought that the secret of their 
 loves might soon be buried on a battle-field ? Or may 
 we seek the cause of their tender fanaticism in the 
 noble attraction which courage has for women? Per- 
 haps all these motives, which the future historians 
 of the Empire may amuse themselves by weighing, 
 counted for something in the facile promptitude with 
 which they gave themselves to love. However that 
 may be, we must admit that laurels in those days 
 covered many a lapse from virtue; women sought 
 those bold adventurers, who to their eyes were sources 
 of honor, wealth, and pleasure; while to unmarried 
 girls an epaulet, that talisman of the future, signified 
 joy and freedom. 
 
 A trait of this epoch, unique in our annals, which 
 may be said to characterize it, was a frantic passion 
 for all that glittered. Never were seen such fireworks ; 
 never were diamonds so valued. Men, as eager as 
 women for the precious white pebbles, decked them- 
 selves with them profusely. Possibly the army need 
 of carrying booty in small compass brought jewels 
 into this extreme prominence in France. A man was 
 not thought ridiculous, as he would be to-day, if he 
 appeared with the frill of his shirt and all his fingers 
 adorned with enormous diamonds. Murat, a man by 
 nature oriental, set the example of this absurd luxury 
 to modern soldiers. 
 
 The Comte de Gondreville, formerly called citizen 
 Malin, whose abduction had made him celebrated [see 
 "An Historical Mystery "], was one of the Luculluses 
 of that conservative Senate that conserved nothing. 
 
286 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 He had postponed the giving of a fete in honor of the 
 Peace in order to pay special court to Napoleon on his 
 return to Paris by eclipsing the other flatterers who 
 then surrounded him. 
 
 The ambassadors of all the powers friendly to 
 France, the most important personages of the Empire, 
 certain princes, and all the women distinguished in 
 this society, were, on the evening of which we write, 
 assembled in the salons of the opulent senator. 
 Dancing languished, for the company awaited the 
 Emperor, whose presence had been promised to the 
 count. Napoleon would have kept this appointment 
 had it not been for a scene that occurred between him- 
 self and Josephine, — the scene in which the divorce 
 was first discussed between them. The fact of that 
 incident, then kept secret but revealed by history, did 
 not reach the ears of the courtiers, and had no adverse 
 influence on the gayety of Gondreville's fete, except 
 by keeping the Emperor away from it. The prettiest 
 women in Paris were present, rivalling each other in 
 luxury, coquetry, beauty, and jewels. The Bank, the 
 moneyed circle, proud of its wealth, seemed anxious 
 to defy those gorgeous generals and grand-officers of 
 the Empire, who were literally gorged with crosses and 
 titles and decorations. 
 
 These great balls were occasions eagerly seized by 
 the rich families to produce their young heiresses 
 before the eyes of Napoleon's heroes, with the rash 
 design of exchanging their solid clot for a very uncer- 
 tain constancy. Women who thought the power of 
 their beauty sufficient went to prove it. There, as 
 elsewhere, pleasure was only a mask. Serene and 
 
The Peace of a Home. 287 
 
 smiling faces, calm and undisturbed foreheads hid 
 odious calculations; friendly assurances were hollow; 
 and many men and women distrusted their friends 
 even more than they did their enemies. 
 
 These observations were necessary to explain the 
 events of the little imbroglio which makes the subject 
 of this Scene, and the painting, slightly softened, of 
 the tone and manners which reigned at that period in 
 the salons of Paris. 
 
 "Turn your eyes toward that truncated column on 
 which is a candelabrum; don't you see that young 
 woman with her hair a la chinoise, — there, in the cor- 
 ner, to the left? She wears blue harebells in her chest- 
 nut hair, which is coiled in a mass at the back of her 
 head. Surely you see her now? She is so pale she 
 must be ill; what a dainty little thing it is! now she 
 is looking towards us; her eyes are blue, almond- 
 shaped, enchantingly soft, made for tenderness! But 
 look, look there! she is stooping to watch Madame de 
 Vaudremont through this labyrinth of moving heads 
 with their lofty coiffures which intercept her sight." 
 
 "Yes, I see her, my dear fellow. You need only 
 have said she was the fairest woman here. I 've 
 noticed her before; she has the most perfect com- 
 plexion I have ever seen. I defy you to distinguish 
 at this distance the pearls on her neck from the skin 
 of it. But she is either prudish or coquettish, for the 
 ruches on her gown will scarcely allow one to guess at 
 her figure. But what shoulders! the dewy whiteness 
 of a lily itself!" 
 
 "Who is she? " said the man who had spoken first. 
 
 "Ah! that I don't know." 
 
288 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 "Aristocrat! Do you mean, Montcornet, to keep 
 all the pretty women to yourself? " 
 
 "It is highly becoming in you to gird at me! " re- 
 plied Montcornet, laughing. "Do you think you have 
 the right to insult a poor general because, being the 
 successful rival of de Soulanges, you can't cut a caper 
 without alarming Madame de Vaudremont? How 
 insolent you are, you government officials, who sit 
 supreme in your chairs, while we, poor devils! have 
 the shells whizzing round us. Come, master of peti- 
 tions, let others glean in the field whose precarious 
 possession shall not be yours till we soldiers leave it. 
 Hey! the deuce! you should live and let live! My 
 friend, if you did but know German women you 'd be 
 willing to serve me, I think, with this Parisian you 
 admire." 
 
 "General, since you have already honored with your 
 notice this woman, whom I have just seen for the first 
 time, have the charity to tell me whether you have seen 
 her dancing." 
 
 "My dear Martial, where do you come from? If 
 you are sent on an embassy I augur ill of your suc- 
 cess. Don't you see three ranks of the most finished 
 coquettes in Paris between that lady and the swarm 
 I of dancers who are buzzing under the chandelier? 
 Didn't you yourself need an eyeglass to discover her 
 in the angle of that column where she seems to be 
 buried in obscurity, in spite of the candles which 
 blaze above her head ? My dear fellow, she is prob- 
 ably the wife of a sub-prefect in Lippe or Dyle, 
 who has come here to try to make a prefect of her 
 husband." 
 
The Peace of a Home, 289 
 
 "Then she will do it," said the master of petitions, 
 hastily. 
 
 "I doubt it," said the colonel of cuirassiers, laugh- 
 ing. " She seems as new to intrigue as you are to 
 diplomacy. I '11 bet, Martial, that you can't find out 
 how she came here." 
 
 The master of petitions looked at the colonel of 
 cuirassiers with an air of mingled disdain and 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Well," said Montcornet, "she arrived, no doubt, at 
 nine o'clock, punctually, — the first guest, probably, 
 and very annoying to Madame de Gondreville, who 
 can't keep two ideas in her head at the same time. 
 Snubbed by the mistress of the house, and retreating 
 from chair to chair as each new guest arrived, till she 
 was squeezed into that dark corner, she has n't dared 
 to escape, shut in as she is by the jealousy of the 
 women about her, who would like nothing better than 
 to bury that dangerous face. Those gentle creatures, 
 so innocent apparently, have formed a coalition 
 against her; and that without a word to each other 
 beyond, 'Do you know who that little woman in a 
 blue dress can be? ' Look here, Martial, if you want 
 to be overwhelmed with flattering looks and more 
 enticing speeches than you '11 ever get again in the 
 whole course of your life, try to break through the 
 triple rampart that surrounds your white lad} 7 . You '11 
 see if the stupidest of those women hasn't something 
 piquant to say, some clever trick to play to stop you 
 before you can reach the plaintive stranger. Don't 
 3 t ou think, by the bye, that her air is somewhat 
 
 elegiac?" 
 
 19 
 
290 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 "Do you think so, Montcornet? Of course she's a 
 married woman ? " 
 
 "Why not a widow? " 
 
 "She would be more lively," said the master of 
 petitions, laughing. 
 
 "Perhaps she is a widow whose husband plays 
 bouillotte," said the general. 
 
 "Since the peace there have been plenty of such 
 widows," replied Martial. ""But, my dear Montcornet, 
 we are two idiots. That head expresses innocence; 
 there is too much youth and candor on that forehead 
 and about those temples ; no, she cannot be a married 
 woman. What vigorous tints in the pure skin; noth- 
 ing shrunken about the texture of the nose ! The lips, 
 the chin, all is fresh on that face like the bud of a 
 white rose. — And yet its expression is veiled by a 
 cloud; what should make such a beautiful young 
 creature weep ? " 
 
 "Women weep for so little," said the colonel. 
 
 "Do they?" said Martial. "But she is not sad 
 because she does not dance; her grief is not of the 
 moment. She has made herself beautiful to-night for 
 some purpose, one can see that. She loves already — 
 I '11 wager that she does." 
 
 "Bah! very likely she is the daughter of some pen- 
 niless princelet of Germany: no one has spoken to 
 her," said Montcornet. 
 
 "Ah! how unfortunate a penniless girl is," replied 
 Martial. "Look at her! what grace, what delicacy! 
 And yet not one of those shrews around her, who think 
 themselves so sensible, has said a word to her. I 
 wish she would smile; we could see if her teeth are 
 beautiful." 
 
The Peace of a Home. 291 
 
 u Ah ga! why, you boil up like milk!" cried the 
 colonel, rather piqued to find a rival in his friend. 
 
 "How strange! " continued the master of petitions, 
 paying no heed to the colonel's remark, and turning 
 his eyeglass on the company who surrounded them, — 
 "how strange that no one seems to know that sweet 
 exotic flower ! " 
 
 "She's a companion, or governess, probably," said 
 Montcornet. 
 
 "Nonsense! — a governess with sapphires that are 
 worthy of a queen, and wearing a Mechlin dress! Tell 
 that to an ignoramus, general! You will never be 
 strong in diplomacy if you mistake a German princess 
 for a lady's companion." 
 
 General Montcornet here caught by the arm a stout 
 little man, whose grizzled hair and lively eyes might 
 be seen in all the doorways, mingling unceremoniously 
 in the various groups, who greeted him respectfully. 
 
 " Gondreville, my dear friend," said Montcornet, 
 "who is that charming- little woman sitting; over there 
 under the great chandelier?" 
 
 "The chandelier? made by Ravrio, my dear fellow; 
 Isabey gave the design." 
 
 "Oh, I have already recognized your taste there," 
 said the general, "but who is the lady? " 
 
 "I don't know. Some friend of my wife, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 "Perhaps your mistress, old slyboots." 
 
 "No, no, word of honor! Madame de Gondreville 
 is the oue woman in Paris capable of inviting people 
 whom nobodv knows to her house." 
 
 In spite of this rather sour remark, the stout little 
 
292 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 man continued to smile with inward satisfaction at 
 the colonel's supposition. The latter now rejoined 
 Martial among a group of other men from whom he 
 was vainly endeavoring to find out the name of the 
 unknown lady. The colonel caught him by the arm, 
 and whispered : — 
 
 "My dear fellow, take care what you are doing! 
 Madame de Vaudremont has been watching you for 
 the last few minutes with alarming attention. She is 
 a woman to guess from the very motion of your lips 
 what you are saying to me. Our eyes have been too 
 significant; she has followed their direction, and she 
 is now more interested than we are in the little blue 
 lady." 
 
 "That 's an old bit of strategy, my dear Mont- 
 cornet! Besides, what do I care? I am like the 
 Emperor; when I make conquests I keep them." 
 
 "Martial, your conceit deserves a lesson. What, 
 pekinf you who have the happiness of being the prob- 
 able husband of Madame de Vaudremont, a charming 
 widow, twenty-two years old, afflicted with four thou- 
 sand napoleons a year, a woman who puts a diamond 
 on your finger as beautiful as this," and he took the 
 hand of the young man, who complacently allowed 
 him to look at the ring it bore, "do you pretend to 
 play Lovelace as if you were a colonel of cuirassiers 
 and forced to sustain a military reputation in love? 
 Reflect, my dear fellow, on what you may lose." 
 
 "It won't be my liberty, at any rate," replied Mar- 
 tial, with a laugh that was somewhat forced. 
 
 He cast a passionate glance at Madame de Vaudre- 
 mont, who replied by a smile that was somewhat 
 
The Peace of a Home. 293 
 
 anxious, for she had seen the general examine the 
 ring on the young man's hand. 
 
 "Listen, Martial," said the colonel; "if you per- 
 sist in hovering round my unknown lady, I will turn 
 round and undertake the conquest of Madame de 
 Vaudremont." 
 
 "So you may, dear cuirassier, but you won't obtain 
 that!" and he put the polished nail of his thumb under 
 his upper teeth and gave a click. 
 
 "Remember that 1 am a bachelor, and my sword is 
 my fortune," said the colonel; "to dare me thus is to 
 seat Tantalus before a feast — which he will devour." 
 
 "Br-r-r!" 
 
 This mocking accumulation of consonants served as 
 an answer to the general's challenge. Martial looked 
 him over gayly as he nodded his head and prepared to 
 leave him. 
 
 The fashion of the day obliged men to wear white 
 cassimere breeches and white silk stockings at a ball. 
 This becoming costume brought out the perfections of 
 Montcornet's figure. He was then about thirty-five 
 years of age, and attracted all eyes by his height, 
 which was that required for the cuirassiers of the 
 Imperial Guard, the handsome uniform of which corps 
 enhanced the dignity of his figure in spite of a certain 
 embonpoint caused by being constantly in the saddle. 
 
 His black moustache gave a frank expression to a 
 martial face, the forehead of which was broad and 
 open ; the nose was aquiline and the lips red. Mont- 
 cornet's manners, which bore the imprint of a certain 
 nobility, caused by the habit of command, might 
 please a woman who would have the good sense not 
 
294 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 to wish to make a slave of her husband. The colonel 
 smiled as he nodded in return to the master of peti- 
 tions, one of his earliest and best school friends, 
 whose little slim figure obliged him, in order to reply 
 to his sarcasm, to drop his satirically amical glance 
 rather low. 
 
 The Baron Martial de la Roche-Hugon was a 
 young Provencal whom Napoleon protected, and whose 
 chances for some nice berth in diplomacy were there- 
 fore great. He had charmed the Emperor by an 
 Italian pliancy, by his genius for intrigue, by that 
 eloquence of the salon and science of manners which 
 so often and so easily stand in place of more solid 
 and manly qualities. Though young and vivacious, 
 his face already had the unreflecting gleam of tin, a 
 quality indispensable to diplomatists, allowing them 
 to hide their emotions and disguise their sentiments, 
 if, indeed, that impassibility does not argue in them 
 the absence of all emotion and the death of senti- 
 ments. The heart of a diplomatist may be regarded 
 as an insoluble problem, for the three most illustrious 
 ambassadors of the present epoch have distinguished 
 themselves by the persistency of their hatreds and the 
 romantic devotion of their love. 
 
 Martial belonged to the class of men who are able 
 to calculate their future in the midst of their most 
 eager enjoyments.- He had already judged the world 
 with the fatuity of a man a bonnes fortunes, disguising 
 his real talents under the livery of mediocrity, having 
 shrewdly remarked the rapidity with which those per- 
 sons who gave little umbrage to the master made their 
 way. 
 
The Peace of a Home. 295 
 
 « 
 
 The two friends now parted with a cordial shake of 
 the hand. The music of the ritornello, which warned 
 the ladies it was time to form the quadrilles of a new 
 country-dance, drove the men from the centre of the 
 room where they were talking in groups. The rapid 
 conversation we have just quoted, occurring in the 
 interval between the dances, took place before the 
 fireplace of the great salon of the hotel Gondreville. 
 The questions and answers had been scarcely more 
 than whispered in each other's ear; but the chande- 
 liers and the candles on the chimney-piece threw such 
 a strong light on the two friends that, in spite of 
 their diplomatic caution, their faces were unable to 
 disguise the expression of their feelings from either 
 the clever countess or the innocent young stranger. 
 This detection of thousrht is to idlers one of the Dleas- 
 
 O A. 
 
 ures that they find in society, where so many stupid 
 fools are bored to death — without, however, daring 
 to acknowledge it. 
 
 To understand the interest of the conversation it is 
 necessary to relate an event which, by invisible links, 
 w r as about to unite the personages of our little drama, 
 who were at this moment scattered about the salons. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, just as the dancers had taken 
 their places, the most beautiful woman in Paris and 
 the queen of fashion had entered the room. She made 
 it a rule never to arrive at a ball until the moment 
 when the salons had reached that condition of ani- 
 mated excitement which soon takes from the women 
 present the freshness of their faces and that of their 
 gowns. This fleeting moment may be called the spring- 
 time of a ball. An hour later, when the pleasure is 
 
296 The Peace of a Home, 
 
 past, fatigue appears, and the scene fades. Madame 
 de Vaudremont never committed the mistake of stay- 
 ing in a ballroom till her flowers drooped, her curls 
 uncurled, her dress was crushed, and sleep had wooed 
 her eyelids. She was careful not to be seen, like her 
 rivals, in drowsy beauty ; she maintained her reputa- 
 tion for coquettish charm by retreating from a festal 
 scene as fresh as when she entered it. 
 
 On this occasion, however, Madame de Vaudremont 
 was destined not to be free to leave whenever she 
 chose the salon she now entered in triumph. Pausing a 
 moment on the threshold of the door, she cast an ob- 
 serving though rapid glance on the women present, 
 studying their gowns in that instant to convince her- 
 self that hers outdid them all. The celebrated coquette 
 then advanced into the room, on the arm of one of 
 the bravest colonels of the artillery of the Guard, a 
 favorite of the Emperor, the Comte de Soulanges. 
 The momentary union of these two persons seemed 
 to have something interesting about it, for on hear- 
 ing the names announced of Monsieur de Soulanges 
 and the Comtesse de Vaudremont several women 
 seated like wall-flowers rose, and some men hurried 
 from the other salons to observe this entrance. One 
 of the jesters who are never absent from such 
 assemblies remarked that "the ladies had as much 
 curiosity to see a man faithful to his passion as the 
 men had to watch the behavior of a pretty woman 
 whom it was difficult to fix." 
 
 Though the Comte de Soulanges, a young man of 
 twenty-six, was gifted with that high-strung tempera- 
 ment which gives birth to the noblest qualities of men, 
 
The Peace of a Home. 297 
 
 his puny figure and his pallid skin did not prepossess 
 in his favor. His black eyes showed vivacity, but 
 he was taciturn in society, and nothing revealed in 
 him one of those great oratorical talents which were 
 destined to shine on the Right in the legislative 
 assemblies of the Restoration. The Comtesse de 
 Yaudrernont, a tall, rather plump woman, with a skin 
 that was dazzlingly white, carrying her little head 
 marvellously well, and, possessing the immense advan- 
 tage of inspiring love by the charm of her manners, 
 was one of those beings who fulfil the promises held 
 out by their beauty. 
 
 This couple, now the object of general attention, did 
 not allow the general curiosity to meddle with them 
 long. The colonel and the countess seemed perfectly 
 to understand that chance had placed them in an awk- 
 ward position. As Martial de la Roche-Hugon saw 
 them advance, he darted behind the group of men 
 around the fireplace, who formed a rampart behind 
 which he could observe Madame de Vaudremont with 
 the jealous attention of the first heat of a passion. A 
 secret voice seemed to warn him that a success on 
 which he prided himself might be, after all, pre- 
 carious. But the coldly polite smile with which the 
 countess thanked Monsieur de Soulanges, and the ges- 
 ture with which she dismissed him as she took a 
 seat beside the Comtesse de Gondreville, relaxed the 
 muscles which jealousy had gathered into a knot 
 upon Martial's face. Perceiving, however, that de 
 Soulanges was still standing within two feet of the 
 sofa on which she was sitting, apparently not compre- 
 hending the glance by which the young coquette had 
 
298 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 told him that they were making themselves ridiculous, 
 Martial, whose Proven cal head was volcanic, frowned 
 the black brows that overshadowed his blue eyes, 
 arranged the curls of his brown hair to keep himself 
 quiet, and, without betraying the emotion that made 
 his heart beat, he watched the countenance of Madame 
 de Vaudremont and that of Monsieur de Soulanges, 
 while chattering with his neighbors. 
 
 Soulanges cast tranquil glances on the quadruple 
 line of women who surrounded the vast salon of the 
 senator, apparently admiring that border of diamonds, 
 rubies, and golden wheat-ears flashing on plumed 
 heads whose glitter paled the light of the candles, 
 the crystal of the lustres, and the gilding of the walls. 
 This calm, self-satisfied indifference in his rival seemed 
 to disconcert Martial. Incapable of controlling his 
 secret annoyance, he advanced toward Madame de 
 Vaudremont to pay his respects to her. As he did 
 so, Soulanges gave him a vacant look and turned 
 away his head impertinently. Silence reigned for a 
 moment in the salon, where curiosity seemed on tip- 
 toe in every mind. The outstretched heads wore the 
 oddest expressions; all present feared and expected 
 one of those outbursts which well-bred persons seek 
 to avoid. 
 
 Suddenly the pale face of the count became as scar- 
 let as the facings of his uniform, and his eyes dropped 
 to the floor as if to conceal the causes of his trouble. 
 Observing the unknown lady in blue seated beneath 
 the chandelier, he passed hurriedly in front of the 
 master of petitions and took refuge in a card-room. 
 Martial and the company present took this to mean 
 
The Peace of a Home. 299 
 
 that Soulanges yielded the place to him, fearing the 
 ridicule that always attends a dethroned lover. The 
 master of petitions raised his head proudly, and his 
 eyes fell upon the unknown lady. Then he seated 
 himself coolly beside Madame de Vaudremont, listen- 
 ing to what she said with so abstracted a mind that 
 he did not hear the words which that coquettish lady 
 whispered behind her fan : — 
 
 "Martial, do me the favor not to wear, to-night, that 
 ring which you got away from me. I have my reasons, 
 which I will explain to you by and by ; I want your 
 arm, presently, to go to the Princesse de Wagram's." 
 
 "Why did you take that of the Comte de Soulanges 
 to come here?" he said, hearing the end of her 
 sentence. 
 
 "I met him on the portico," she replied; u but leave 
 me now; people are watching us." 
 
 Martial rejoined Montcornet. The little blue lady 
 had now become an object of disquietude in diverse 
 forms to the colonel of cuirassiers, to Soulanges, Mar- 
 tial, and Madame de Vaudremont. When Martial 
 flung his parting defiance at Montcornet, he rushed 
 back to Madame de Vaudremont, whom he hastened 
 to place in a brilliant quadrille. Under cover of the 
 dance, which distracted his partner's attention, he 
 fancied he could with impunity turn his attention to 
 the charms of his new attraction. Although he suc- 
 ceeded in concealing from the active eyes of the coun- 
 tess the first glances that he threw at the little blue 
 lady, he was soon discovered in flagrante delicto. At 
 first he pretended absent-mindedness; then he made 
 no response to the seductive advances by which the 
 
300 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 countess seemed to say, "Do you love me to-uight? " 
 and the more dreamy and silent be seemed, the more 
 pressing and provocative the countess became. 
 
 While Martial danced, Montcornet went from group 
 to group seeking information as to the fair unknown. 
 After exhausting all such resources in vain, he was 
 thinking to profit by a moment when Madame de 
 Gondreville seemed at liberty, and question her as to 
 the name of the mysterious woman, when he noticed 
 a slight opening, an empty space, between the column 
 which held the candelabrum and the adjoining sofa. 
 He seized the opportunity of a new dance to thread 
 his way through the empty chairs which formed, as 
 it were, a fortification defended by the mothers and 
 the women of a certain age. He complimented the 
 dowagers as he went along, and from woman to 
 woman, and flattery to flattery, he reached, at last, 
 the empty place his quick eye had seen beside the 
 unknown lady. At the risk of being clawed by the 
 griffins of the candelabrum he maintained that posi- 
 tion to Martial's great displeasure. Too worldly wise 
 to address at once the little blue lady, who was on his 
 right, the colonel began operations by remarking to a 
 tall and rather plain lady who sat on his left: — 
 
 "'This, madame, has been a very fine ball! What 
 luxury! So lively! On my honor, all the women 
 present are handsome. If you are not dancing it 
 must be that you don't like it." 
 
 This insipid conversation begun by the colonel had, 
 of course, no other object than that of drawing into it 
 his right-hand neighbor, who, silent and preoccupied, 
 paid not the slightest attention to him. The officer held 
 
The Peace of a Home. 301 
 
 in reserve a number of phrases which he meant to end 
 with, "And you, madarne?" on which he counted 
 much. But he was strangely surprised, on looking 
 round, to see tears in the lady's eyes, which appeared 
 to be fastened on Madame de Vaudremont. 
 
 "Madame is, no doubt, married?" he ventured, 
 presently, to say, in a hesitating voice. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied the lady. 
 
 "And your husband is here? " 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Then why, madame, if I may ask, do you stay in 
 this one place? Is it from coquetry?" 
 
 The lady smiled rather sadly. 
 
 "Grant me the honor of the next quadrille, and I 
 will certainly not bring you back to this seat," said 
 the colonel. "I see an empty sofa now near the fire- 
 place ; let us take it. When the mania of the day is 
 for royalty, why should you abdicate the rank of queen 
 of this ball to which your beauty entitles you?" 
 
 "Monsieur, I shall not dance." 
 
 The curt responses of the lady were so discouraging 
 that the colonel began to think he should be forced to 
 abandon the position. Martial, who guessed his re- 
 quest and the refusal he received, began to laugh and 
 to stroke his chin with a hand on which the ring he 
 wore shone brilliantly. 
 
 "What are you laughing at?" asked Madame de 
 Vaudremont. 
 
 "The poor colonel's failure; he has just made such 
 a fiasco! " 
 
 "I asked you to take off that ring," said the coun- 
 tess, suddenly interrupting him. 
 
302 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 a- 
 
 I did n't hear you." 
 
 ; If you can't hear, I observe that you can see 
 everything, Monsieur le comte," retorted Madame de 
 Vaudremont, in a piqued tone. 
 
 "There's a young man who is wearing a very fine 
 diamond," said the little blue lady, suddenly address- 
 ing the colonel. 
 
 "Magnificent! " he replied. "That young man is 
 the BaroD Martial de la Roche-Hugon, one of my most 
 intimate friends." 
 
 "Thank you for telHng me his name," she replied. 
 "He seems very amiable." 
 
 "Yes, but rather thoughtless." 
 
 "One might almost think he was on close terms 
 with Madame de Vaudremont," she said, in a ques- 
 tioning tone, and looking into the colonel's eyes, 
 interrogatively. 
 
 "On the very closest," he replied. 
 
 The lady turned pale. 
 
 "Heavens!" thought the soldier, "she really does 
 love that devil of a Martial." 
 
 "I thought Madame de Vaudremont was receiving 
 the attentions of the Comte de Soulanges ? " resumed 
 the young woman, recovering, apparently, from the 
 inward emotion which had paled her cheek. 
 
 "Yes, but the countess has been deserting him of 
 late. You must have noticed poor Soulanges when 
 he came in with her just now; he tries hard not to 
 believe in her desertion." 
 
 "I saw him," said the blue lady; then she added, 
 "I thank you," in a tone of voice equivalent to a 
 dismissal. 
 
The Peace of a Home. 303 
 
 At this moment the quadrille was just coming to 
 an end, and the colonel, disappointed, had only time 
 to beat a retreat, muttering to himself by way of 
 consolation, "Well, at any rate, she is married." 
 
 u Ha, ha, courageous cuirassier," cried Martial, 
 dragging; the colonel to a window to breathe some 
 fresh air. "How far have you advanced, hey?" 
 
 "She is married, my dear fellow." 
 
 "What has that got to do with it? " 
 
 "The deuce! wiry, I 'm a moral man," replied the 
 colonel. "I only take an interest in women I can 
 marry. Besides, Martial, she notified me, formally, 
 that she did not dance." 
 
 "Colonel, will you bet your dapple-gray horse 
 against one hundred napoleons that she will not 
 dance this evening with me?" 
 
 "Yes, that I will!" cried the colonel, striking his 
 hand into that of the dandy. "Meantime I '11 see 
 Soulanges; I think he must know the little lady, for 
 she seems to take an interest in him." 
 
 "Ah! my old fellow, you've lost," cried Martial, 
 laughing. "My eyes have met hers; and I know 
 what is what. Dear colonel, you won't be vexed with 
 me if I dance with her after she refused you ? " 
 
 "No, no! he laughs well who laughs last. I'm a 
 bold player, and a good enemy. I '11 give you a 
 hint, Martial, that she likes diamonds." 
 
 As he said this, the two friends parted. Montcornet 
 went toward the card-room, where he saw the Comte 
 de Soulanges sitting at a bouillotte table. Though 
 nothing existed between the two colonels more than 
 the ordinary friendship of soldiers, based on the 
 
304 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 perils of war and the duties of their profession, the 
 colonel of cuirassiers was painfully affected on seeing 
 the colonel of artillery engaged in an occupation which 
 might ruin him. Piles of gold and bank-notes showed 
 the fury of the game. A circle of silent men sur- 
 rounded the players at the table. Certain words like 
 "pass; play; hold; a thousand louis; held," echoed 
 about the room, but to look at the five persons motion- 
 less at the table, a spectator would have said that 
 their lips had not moved, and they had spoken with 
 their eyes only. 
 
 When the colonel, alarmed at the count's paleness, 
 approached him, he was winning. The Marechal Due 
 d'Isomberg, and Keller the celebrated banker rose 
 from the table completely stripped. Soulanges be- 
 came still more gloomy as he gathered in the mass of 
 gold and notes, which he did not count ; a bitter dis- 
 dain seemed to curl his lip, as if he threatened fortune 
 rather than thanked her for such favors. 
 
 "Courage," said the colonel; "courage, Soulanges." 
 Then, thinking to do him a true service by enticing 
 him away from the card-table, he added: "Come, I 've 
 some good news to tell you — but on one condition." 
 "What condition? " asked Soulanges. 
 "That of answering a question I shall ask you." 
 The count rose abruptly, tied his winnings care- 
 lessly in the handkerchief he had been twisting con- 
 vulsively, and joined the colonel. His face was so 
 savage that none of the other players dared complain 
 that he left them. Their own faces even expanded as 
 soon as the sulky and sullen head was removed from 
 the luminous circle which a bouillotte lamp casts upon 
 a table. 
 
The Peace of a Home. 305 
 
 "Those devils of soldiers understand each other like 
 thieves at a fair," said a diplomatist, in a low voice, 
 taking the count's seat. 
 
 "My dear Soulanges," said Montcornet, drawing 
 the count into a corner, "the Emperor praised you 
 very much this morning, and your promotion to the 
 marshalship is beyond a doubt." 
 
 "The master does n't like the artillery." 
 
 "No; but he adores nobility, and you are a ci- 
 devant ! The master," continued Montcornet, "said 
 that those who had married in Paris during the cam- 
 paign were not to be considered as under a cloud. 
 Well ? " 
 
 The count seemed not to understand this speech. 
 
 "Now, in return for all that," resumed the colonel, 
 "I want you to tell me if you know a charming little 
 woman who is sitting over there by the candelabrum." 
 
 At these words the count's eyes flashed, and he 
 seized the colonel's hand with extreme violence. 
 
 "My dear general," he said, in a voice that was 
 noticeably changed, "if any man but you had asked 
 me that question I would have split his skull with this 
 mass of gold. Leave me, I entreat. I have more 
 desire to blow out my brains than to — I hate every- 
 thing, and every one. I am going. This gayety, this 
 music, this crowd of stupid laughing faces kill me — " 
 
 "My poor friend!" said Montcornet, in a gentle 
 voice, "you are excited. What will you say if I tell 
 you that Martial cares so little for Madame de Vau- 
 dremont that he has fallen in love with that little lady 
 in blue? " 
 
 If he speaks to her," cried Soulanges, stuttering 
 
 20 
 
 it 
 
u 
 
 306 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 with rage, "I '11 make him as flat as his own portfolio, 
 whether he 's in the Emperor's inner circle or not." 
 
 So saying, the count dropped, as if annihilated, on 
 the sofa to which the colonel had brought him. The 
 latter slowly withdrew ; he saw that Soulanges was a 
 prey to anger much too violent for the talk or jests 
 of a mere acquaintance to calm him. 
 
 When Montcornet re-entered the great ball-room, 
 Madame de Vaudremont was the first person on whom 
 his eyes rested, and he noticed on her face, usually 
 very calm, the unmistakable signs of an ill-disguised 
 agitation ; a chair being vacant beside her, the colonel 
 sat down in it. 
 
 I '11 wager that 3 t ou are annoyed," he said. 
 A mere trifle, general. I wanted to get away from 
 here; I have promised to be at the ball of the Grand- 
 duchess of Berg, and I must go first to the Princesse 
 de Wagram. Monsieur de la Roche-Hugon, who 
 knows that, and whom I asked to escort me, is amus- 
 ing himself with gallant speeches to those dowagers." 
 
 "That is not altogether the subject of your annoy- 
 ance. I '11 bet a hundred louis that you will stay here 
 the rest of the evening." 
 
 "Oh! what impertinence! " 
 
 "So I'm right, ami?" 
 
 "Well, well; then tell me what I am thinking of," 
 said the countess, giving a little tap with her fan on 
 the colonel's fingers. "I am capable of rewarding 
 you if you guess right." 
 
 "I can't accept that challenge, for I am too sure 
 that I am right." 
 
 "What presumption! 
 
 » 
 
The Peace of a Home. 307 
 
 "You dislike seeing Martial at the feet of — " 
 
 "Of whom?" asked the countess, affecting surprise. 
 
 "That candelabrum," replied the colonel, motion- 
 ing toward the beautiful unknown, and looking at the 
 countess with embarrassing attention. 
 
 "You 've guessed right," replied the coquettish 
 creature, hiding her face behind her fan, with which 
 she began to play. "Madame de Lansac, who, as you 
 know, is as malicious as an old monkey," she con- 
 tinued, after a moment's silence, "has just told me 
 that Monsieur de la Roche-Hugon runs serious danger 
 in courting that mysterious lady, who has appeared 
 here to-night like a kill-joy. I 'd rather see death 
 itself than that face as cruelly pale and beautiful as 
 a vision. I am convinced she is my evil genius. 
 Madame de Lansac," she continued, after making a 
 gesture of annoyance, "who goes to a ball to spy upon 
 everyone while pretending to be half asleep, has made 
 me very uneasy. Martial shall pay dear for the game 
 he is playing with me. Advise him, colonel, inas- 
 much as he is your friend, not to trouble me in this 
 way." 
 
 "I have just seen a man who proposes to do noth- 
 ing less than blow out Martial's brains if he says a 
 word to the little blue lady. But I know Martial; 
 such dangers only encourage him. Besides, there 's 
 something else ; he and I have bet — " 
 
 Here the colonel lowered his voice. 
 
 "Is that really true?" asked the countess. 
 
 "Upon my honor." 
 
 "Thanks, dear colonel," replied Madame de Vaudre- 
 mont, giving him a glance full of coquetry. 
 
08 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 "Will you do me the honor to dance with me? " 
 
 " Yes, but the second quadrille. While this one is 
 being danced I must find out more about this intrigue ; 
 I must know who the little blue lady is. She looks 
 clever." 
 
 The colonel, seeing that Madame de Vaudremont 
 wished to be alone, departed, well satisfied with the 
 manner in which he had opeued his attack. 
 
 We often meet at balls and parties women like 
 Madame de Lansac, who seem to be there like old 
 mariners standing on a jetty to watch young sailors 
 struggling against the storm. At this moment the 
 old lady, who seemed to take an interest in the per- 
 sonages of our scene, could easily detect the annoyance 
 under which the countess was laboring. That young 
 coquette might flirt her fan graciously, smile on the 
 men who bowed to her, and practise all the tricks a 
 woman employs to hide emotion, but the dowager, 
 one of the most malirieuses and perspicacious old 
 duchesses which the eighteenth century had bequeathed 
 to the nineteenth, could read to the bottom of her 
 heart and thought. The old lady seemed to recognize 
 with fellow-feeling the almost imperceptible motions 
 which betrayed the workings of the young woman's 
 soul. The slightest frown upon that pure white brow, 
 the least visible curving of the coral lips were as 
 plainly read by the duchess as the print of a book. 
 From the depth of her sofa, which her gown volumi- 
 nously filled, this coquette emeritus (though all the 
 while talking with a diplomate who sought her society 
 for the sake of the anecdotes she told so well) was 
 admiring her old self in the charming widow; she 
 
The Peace of a Home. 309 
 
 liked her, seeing how well she carried her vexation 
 and the blow to her heart. 
 
 Madame de Vaudremont did really feel as much 
 pain as she feigned gayety. She had thought she 
 found in Martial a man of talent, on whom she could 
 rely to embellish her life with the sweets of power. 
 This evening she had seen her mistake, a mistake as 
 injurious to her reputation in society as it was wound- 
 ing to her self-love. In her, as in all women of that 
 particular period, the suddenness of passions increased 
 their ardor. Souls that live much and fast do not 
 suffer less than those that spend themselves on a 
 single affection. The fancy of the countess for Mar- 
 tial was recent, to be sure, but the most inept of sur- 
 geons knows that the amputation of a well limb is 
 more painful than that of a diseased one. There was 
 future ambition to be gratified in her liking for Mar- 
 tial, whereas her preceding coquetry with Soulanges 
 had, of course, no real object, and was rather poisoned 
 by his evident contrition. 
 
 The old duchess, who was watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to speak to the countess, now hastened to dis- 
 miss her ambassador; for, in presence of quarrelling 
 lovers, all other interests pale, even for an old woman. 
 Madame de Lansac began her attack by casting a most 
 sardonic glance at Madame de Vaudremont, which 
 made the young coquette tremble in dread of seeing 
 her fate in the dowager's hands. There are looks that 
 pass from woman to woman like torches brought upon 
 the stage in the crisis of a tragedy. Persons must 
 have known that old duchess to appreciate the terror 
 which the play of her countenance now inspired in the 
 
310 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 countess. Madame de Lansac was tall. Her features 
 made one think, "There 's a woman who was handsome 
 in her day." She covered her cheeks with so much 
 rouge that her wrinkles scarcely showed ; but her eyes, 
 instead of receiving additional lustre from this mass 
 of carmine, seemed only the more haggard. She wore 
 an enormous number of diamonds, and dressed with 
 enough taste not to seem ridiculous. Her pointed 
 nose was epigrammatic. A set of well-preserved teeth 
 gave to her mouth a sarcastic grin which recalled that 
 of Voltaire. But the exquisite politeness of her man- 
 ners softened the satirical turn of her ideas so much 
 that she was never accused of actual malignancy. 
 
 Her old gray eyes now brightened, and she flung 
 a triumphant look, accompanied by a smile which 
 seemed to say: "I told you so! " across the room to 
 the mysterious beauty sitting beneath the candela- 
 brum, to whose cheek that look brought a flush of 
 hope. This evident alliance between Madame de Lan- 
 sac and the blue lady could not, of course, escape so 
 practised an eye as that of Madame de Vaudremont, 
 who saw a mystery behind it, which she suddenly 
 resolved to penetrate. 
 
 At this moment the Baron de la Roche-Hugon, hav- 
 ing questioned all the dowagers without ascertaining 
 the name of the charming unknown, finally appealed 
 in despair to the Comtesse de Gondreville, and 
 received from her the following insufficient reply : — 
 
 "That is a lady whom the old Duchesse de Lansac 
 introduced to me." 
 
 Turning to the sofa on which sat that ancient lady 
 the master of petitions intercepted the glance of intel- 
 
The Peace of a Home. 311 
 
 ligence she cast upon the fair unknown, and, although 
 he stood rather ill in her graces, he determined to 
 accost her. Observing the approach of the lively 
 baron, the duchess smiled with sardonic mischief, and 
 looked at Madame de Vaudremont with an air which 
 made Montcornet, who was watching them, laugh. 
 
 "If that old bohemian takes a friendly tone," 
 thought the baron, "she means to play me some ill- 
 natured trick. Madame," he said, "I am told you are 
 here to watch a precious treasure." 
 
 "Do you take me for a dragon?" asked the old 
 lady. "But of whom are you speaking?" she added, 
 in a honeyed tone which encouraged Martial. 
 
 "Of that little unknown lady whom the jealousy of 
 all these coquettes has hemmed into that corner. You 
 know her family, of course ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied the duchess; "but what have you to 
 do with a provincial heiress, married a year or two, a 
 girl very well born, whom none of you know, and who 
 never goes into society? " 
 
 "Why does n't she dance? She is very handsome. 
 Will you make a treaty of peace with me ? If you will 
 deign to tell me all that I want to know, I swear to 
 you that a request for the restitution of the Navarreins 
 woods by the Special Domain shall be warmly urged 
 upon the Emperor." 
 
 The younger branch of the house of Navarreins 
 quarters the arms of Lansac, namely: azure cottized 
 argent, flanked with six lance-heads in pale ; and the 
 liaison of the old dame with Louis XV. had given 
 her husband the title of duke. Now, inasmuch as the 
 Navarreins had not yet returned to France, the young 
 
312 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 master of petitions was proposing nothing less than a 
 piece of treachery to the duchess, by suggesting a 
 claim to property belonging to the elder branch. 
 
 u Monsieur," she said, with deceptive gravity, "fetch 
 me the Comtesse de Vaudremont. I promise to reveal 
 to her the mystery that seems to make your unknown 
 lady so interesting. See, the other men in the room 
 are as curious about her as you. All eyes are on that 
 candelabrum near which my protegee has modestly 
 placed herself; she is receiving homages that the rest 
 of the women are trying to snatch away from her. 
 Lucky will he be who persuades her to dance witli 
 him — " 
 
 There she interrupted herself, and empaled the 
 Comtesse de Vaudremont with one of those glances 
 which say so plainly, "We are talking of you." Then 
 she added, "I think you would rather hear the name 
 of the lady from the lips of your beautiful countess 
 than from mine." 
 
 The manner of the old duchess was so provocative 
 that Madame de Vaudremont rose and came over to 
 her, taking the chair which Martial offered. Without 
 paying any heed to the young man, she said to the 
 old lady, with a laugh : — 
 
 "I can see that you are talking of me; but there 
 my intelligence stops ; I don't know whether you are 
 saying good or evil." 
 
 Madame de Lansac pressed the young woman's 
 pretty hand in her withered and wrinkled claw as she 
 whispered, in a tone of compassion, "Poor child! " 
 
 The two women looked at each other. Madame de 
 Vaudremont perceived that Martial was in the way, 
 
The Peace of a Home. 313 
 
 and she dismissed him with a curt and imperious, 
 u Leave us! " 
 
 The master of petitions, not at all pleased to see 
 his countess under the influence of the dangerous sybil 
 who had summoned her, gave her one of those mascu- 
 line looks, all-powerful to a blinded heart, but ridic- 
 ulous to a woman when she begins to judge the man 
 with whom she has been seriously inclined to fall in 
 love. 
 
 "Do you assume to mimic the Emperor? " she said, 
 turning her head half round to give the master of 
 petitions an ironical glance. 
 
 Martial had too much knowledge of the world, and 
 too much shrewdness and calculation to risk an open 
 rupture with a woman who stood well at court, and 
 in whose marriage the Emperor took an interest. He 
 counted, moreover, on the jealousy he expected to 
 awaken in her as the best means of discovering the 
 reason of her sudden coldness ; he therefore departed, 
 the more willingly because a new quadrille was putting 
 everybody in motion. Crossing his arms, he leaned 
 against a console on the opposite side of the room, 
 where he could watch attentively the interview of the 
 two ladies. From time to time, he followed with his 
 eyes the glances they both cast on the blue unknown. 
 Comparing the countess with this new beauty whom 
 mystery was rendering so attractive, the baron fell 
 into a series of those odious calculations which are 
 customary with men of gallantry; he wavered between 
 a fortune to be gained, and a caprice to be satisfied. 
 The reflection of the lights brought out so strongly his 
 vexed and sombre face upon the white moire draperies 
 
314 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 which his black hair brushed, that he might have 
 been compared at that moment to an evil genius. 
 From afar an observer would have said: "There's 
 another poor devil who does n't seem to be amusing 
 himself." 
 
 The colonel, on the other hand, his right shoulder 
 resting lightly against the casing of the door between 
 the card-room and the ball-room, was laughing to 
 himself behind his ample moustache. He enjoyed the 
 pleasure of watching the tumult of the ball ; he saw a 
 hundred pretty heads swaying to the motions of the 
 dance; he could read on some faces, as on those of 
 the countess and his friend Martial, the secrets of 
 their agitation. Then, turning his head, he asked 
 himself what connection there could be between the 
 gloomy humor of the Comte de Soulanges, still sitting 
 where he left him, and the plaintive little lady on 
 whose face what seemed to be the joys of hope and 
 the agony of involuntary terror appeared alternately. 
 Montcornet stood there like the king of the feast; he 
 obtained in that moving picture a perfect view of 
 society, and he laughed as he gathered in and replied 
 to the self-interested smiles of a hundred brilliant 
 women, — a colonel of the Imperial Guard, a post 
 which carried with it the rank of a brigadier-general, 
 was certainly one of the finest matches in the army. 
 
 It was now about midnight. The conversations, 
 play, dance, coquetry, self-interests, mischief-making, 
 and projects had severally reached that pitch of ex- 
 citement which leads young men to exclaim: "What 
 a fine ball!" 
 
 "My dear little angel," Madame de Lansac was 
 
 \ 
 
The Peace of a Home. 315 
 
 saying to the countess, "you are at an age when I 
 committed many mistakes. I saw you suffering tor- 
 ture just now, and it came into my mind to give you 
 a little advice. To make mistakes at twenty-two is 
 to spoil our future ; it is like tearing a gown we intend 
 to put on. My dear, we often don't learn till too late 
 how to wear our gown without either tearing or rump- 
 ling it. Continue, dear heart, to make yourself clever 
 enemies, and let men without principle be your friends, 
 and you '11 see what a pretty sort of life you '11 lead 
 some day." 
 
 "Ah! madame, a woman finds it very difficult to be 
 happy, doesn't she?" exclaimed the countess, vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 "My dear, she should, at your age, know how to 
 choose between pleasures and happiness. You wish 
 to marry Martial, who is neither fool enough to make 
 a good husband nor passionate enough to be a lover. 
 He has debts, my child ; he is a man who will squan- 
 der your fortune; but that would n't signify if he 
 made you happy. He won't make you happy. Don't 
 you see how old he is already. He is a broken man ; 
 he is living on his own remains. In three years 
 there '11 be nothing left of him. Then he '11 take to 
 ambition. He may succeed, but I don't believe it. 
 What is he? A trimmer; who has a wonderful sense 
 of current affairs, and talks agreeably; but he is far 
 too conceited to have real merit; he '11 never go far. 
 Look at him! can't you read on his forehead at this 
 very moment that he is not thinking of you as a 
 young and charming woman, but of the two millions 
 which you possess? He doesn't love you, my dear; 
 
316 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 he calculates you as he would a matter of business. 
 If you want to marry, take an older man who has won 
 the consideration of the world and is half-way on in his 
 career. A widow ought not to make her second mar- 
 riage a mere love-tale. Mice are not caught in the 
 same trap twice. Now, a new marriage ought to be, 
 in its way, a speculation on your side; you ought, 
 in remarrying, to have a prospect, at least, of being 
 Madame la marechale." 
 
 The eyes of both women fixed themselves at that 
 moment, spontaneously, on the noble figure of General 
 Montcornet. 
 
 "If, on the other hand, you prefer to play the diffi- 
 cult role of a coquette and not marry at all," con- 
 tinued the duchess, with much kindliness, "ah! my 
 poor little girl, you '11 know, better than most women, 
 how to heap up the clouds of a tempest and dissipate 
 them. But, I conjure you, never make it your pride 
 and pleasure to disturb the peace of a home, to destroy 
 the union of families, and the happiness of women 
 who are happy. I played that dangerous game, my 
 child. Good God! for a triumph of vanity women 
 will murder the hearts of some poor virtuous creat- 
 ures, — for there are, in this world, virtuous women, 
 — and create for themselves eternal hatreds. Too late 
 I learned, as the Duke of Alba said, that a salmon 
 is worth a thousand frogs. Believe me, a true love 
 gives far more enjoyment than the ephemeral passions 
 which we like to excite. Well, I came here to-night 
 to preach this to you. Yes, you are the cause of my 
 apparition in this salon, which, if you J ll excuse the 
 word, stinks of the populace. In the olden time, my 
 
The Peace of a Home. 317 
 
 dear, we might receive such people in a boudoir, but 
 in a salon — r'y ! Why do you look at me with that 
 astonished air? Now listen to me," resumed the old 
 lady. "If you want to play with men, endeavor to 
 convulse the hearts of those only whose life is free, 
 those who have no duties to perform. The others 
 never pardon us the wrongs we make them commit. 
 Profit by that maxim of my old experience. Poor 
 Soulanges, for instance, whose head you have turned, 
 and whom for the last few months you have completely 
 intoxicated, heaven knows how! well, do you know 
 what you have been destroying? — his whole life. He 
 has been married two years ; he is adored by a charm- 
 ing little creature whom he loves and yet betrays; 
 she lives in tears and bitter silence. Soulanges has 
 moments of the sharpest remorse, all the sharper that 
 he has not found much comfort in his pleasure — 
 you little trickster, you have betrayed him! Well, 
 now come and see your work." 
 
 The old duchess took the hand of the young countess 
 and they both rose. 
 
 "See," said Madame de Lansac, pointing out to her 
 compauion by a glance the pale and trembling lady 
 beneath the candelabrum, "that is my great-niece, 
 the Comtesse de Soulanges. She has yielded to my 
 entreaties, and has come here to-night from a sad- 
 dened home, where the presence of her child is but a 
 feeble consolation of her sorrow. Do you see her? 
 You think her charming? Well, dear heart, think 
 what she might be if happiness and love were glowing 
 in that face that is now fading." 
 
 The countess silently turned away her head, and 
 
318 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 seemed lost in grave reflections. The duchess took 
 her to the door of the card-room, and there, having 
 looked within as if seeking some one, she said to the 
 young coquette, in a deep tone of voice, "And there 
 is Soulanges ! " 
 
 The countess shuddered as she saw in the least- 
 lighted corner of the room the pale, drawn face of the 
 young man lying back on a sofa; the dejection of his 
 attitude and the gloom upon his brow proved only too 
 plainly his inward suffering. The players went and 
 came before him, but he paid no more attention to 
 them than a dead man might. The picture thus pre- 
 sented of the sorrowing wife and the gloomy, dejected 
 husband, parted one from the other in the midst of 
 this fete like two halves of a tree struck by lightning, 
 had something in it that seemed prophetic to the coun- 
 tess; was it the image of a future vengeance? Her 
 heart was not so spoiled as yet that kindliuess and 
 right feeling were banished from it. She pressed the 
 hand of the old duchess and thanked her with a smile 
 that had a certain childlike charm. 
 
 "Dear heart," said the old woman, "remember in 
 future that we can repulse the homage of men as easily 
 as we attract it." Then, as she passed Montcornet, 
 she said, under her breath, "She is yours if you are 
 not a ninny." 
 
 The words were whispered in the colonel's ear while 
 the beautiful countess was still absorbed in the com- 
 passion inspired by the appearance of Soulanges, 
 whom she really loved sufficiently to wish to make him 
 happy. She began to think of employing the irresistible 
 power of her fascinations to send him back to his wife. 
 
The Peace of a Home. 319 
 
 "Oh! how I will preach to him!" she said to 
 Madame de Lansac. 
 
 "Do nothing of the kind, my dear! " cried the 
 duchess, regaining her sofa. "Choose a good hus- 
 band and shut your door to my nephew. Don't even 
 offer him your friendship. Believe me, my child, a 
 woman does not willingly receive from another woman 
 the heart of her husband ; she wants to win him back 
 herself. In bringing my niece here I think I gave her 
 an excellent means of regaining her husband's affec- 
 tion. What I ask of you, as your co-operative share, 
 is to fascinate the colonel." 
 
 And she nodded in the direction of Martial's friend; 
 the countess laughed. 
 
 "Well, madame, do you at last know the name of 
 that mysterious lady ? " asked the baron, in a piqued 
 tone, as soon as the countess was alone. 
 
 "Yes, I do," said Madame de Vauclremont, looking 
 straight at the master of petitions. 
 
 Her face expressed mischief as well as gayety. 
 The smile which flickered on her lips and dimpled her 
 cheek, and the liquid light in her eyes were like the 
 dancing will-o'-the-wisps which decoy a traveller. 
 Martial, thinking himself beloved, fell into that self- 
 satisfied attitude which a man so complacently assumes 
 toward the woman who loves him, and said, with his 
 natural fatuity : — 
 
 "You will not be angry with me, will you, if I 
 seem to attach great value to the knowledge of that 
 lady's name?" 
 
 "And you must not be angry," replied Madame de 
 Vaudremont, "if I refuse to tell it to you, and forbid 
 
320 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 you to make the slightest advance toward that young 
 lady. You might risk your life." 
 
 "Madame, to lose your good graces is to lose more 
 than life." 
 
 "Martial," said the countess, severely, "that is 
 Madame de Soulanges; the husband will blow your 
 brains out — if you have any." 
 
 "Ha, ha!" laughed the dandy; "the husband lets 
 the man who has won your heart go free, but wants 
 to fight him on his wife's account! What a reversal 
 of principle ! I entreat you, allow me one dance with 
 that little woman. You will thus gain proof of how 
 little love his icy heart has ever felt for you; for if 
 Soulanges is angry when I dance with his wife 
 after — " 
 
 "She is married, I tell you." 
 
 "Obstacle the more which I shall have the pleasure 
 of overcoming." 
 
 "But she loves her husband." 
 
 " Absurd objection ! " 
 
 "Ah! " said the countess, with a bitter smile, "you 
 men punish us for our faults and our repentances 
 also." 
 
 "Don't be angry," said Martial, hastily. "Oh! I 
 entreat you, forgive me. Come, I won't think any- 
 thing more about her." 
 
 "You deserve that I should send you to her now." 
 
 "I 'm going," said the baron, smiling, "but I shall 
 come back more in love with you than ever. Y r ou will 
 see that the prettiest woman in the world can't obtain 
 a heart that belongs to you." 
 
 "I see that you want to win the colonel's horse. ! 
 
 » 
 
The Peace of a Home. 321 
 
 "Ah! the traitor," he replied, laughing, and threat- 
 ening the colonel, who now came up to them, with his 
 finger. But as he yielded his seat to his friend, he 
 said, in a sardonic tone: "Madame, this is a man who 
 has boasted that he can win your good graces in a 
 single evening." 
 
 As he walked away he congratulated himself on 
 having stirred up the pride of the countess and spoiled 
 Montcornet's chances; for, in spite of his habitual 
 shrewdness, he had not detected the covert sarcasm of 
 Madame de Vaudremont's remarks to him; and he 
 did not see that she was really making as many steps 
 toward his friend as his friend was taking toward her, 
 though both were unconscious of it. 
 
 At the moment when the master of petitions began 
 to hover round the particular candelabrum near which 
 the Comtesse de Soulanges, pale and anxious, and 
 seeming to live in her eyes only, was still sitting, her 
 husband appeared in the doorway, his eyes sparkling 
 with anger. The old duchess, watchful of all, came 
 up to her nephew and asked for his arm to take her 
 to her carriage, pretending to be bored to death, but 
 really anxious to prevent an unpleasant outbreak. 
 Before leaving the room she made a singular sign of 
 intelligence to her niece, motioning to the enterprising 
 baron who was hovering near, — a sign which seemed 
 to say: "Now, then, revenge yourself. " 
 
 Madame de Vaudremont intercepted that look; a 
 sudden gleam illuminated her mind; she feared she 
 was the dupe of the wily old woman so trained to 
 intrigue. 
 
 "That perfidious duchess," she said to herself, 
 
 21 
 
322 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 "may have thought it amusing to lecture me while 
 playing some mischievous trick after her kind." 
 
 At this thought Madame de Vaudremont's pride 
 became more interested than even her curiosity in un- 
 ravelling the threads of the intrigue; and the secret 
 preoccupation of her mind scarcely allowed her to be 
 mistress of herself. The colonel, interpreting to his 
 own advantage the embarrassment visible in the man- 
 ners and language of the countess, became more and 
 more assiduous and pressing. Old and biases diplo- 
 matists who amuse themselves by watching the play 
 of countenances could seldom meet with more in- 
 trigues to watch and fathom than in the course of this 
 evening. 
 
 The baron at last managed to obtain a seat beside 
 the Comtesse de Soulanges. His eyes wandered fur- 
 tively over a throat cool as the dew, sweet as a wild- 
 flower. He admired, close at hand, the beauties that 
 surprised him from afar. He saw a tiny foot well 
 shod ; he measured with his eye that supple, graceful 
 waist. In those days women made their waists 
 directly beneath their bosoms, in imitation of Greek 
 statues, — a pitiless and fatal fashion for those whose 
 forms were defective. Casting a furtive glance upon 
 that bosom, Martial was enchanted with the perfection 
 of the lady's figure. 
 
 "You have not danced once this evening, madame," 
 he said, in a soft and flattering voice; "not for want 
 of partners, I am very sure." 
 
 "I do not go into society, and I am therefore un- 
 known," replied Madame de Soulanges, coldly, for 
 she had not comprehended the glance by which her 
 aunt invited her to coquette with the baron. 
 
The Peace of a Home. 323 
 
 Martial was at that moment playing with the dia- 
 mond ring which adorned his left hand. The glitter 
 of the stones seemed to send a sudden gleam into the 
 soul of the young woman, who colored high and cast 
 an indefinable look upon the baron. 
 
 "Do you like dancing? " he said, by way of renew- 
 ing the conversation. 
 
 "Oh! very much, monsieur." 
 
 At this strange, eager answer their glances met. 
 The baron, surprised by the tones of her voice, which 
 roused a vague hope in his heart, now questioned the 
 eyes of the young lady. 
 
 "Then, maclame, I trust it is not temerity on my 
 part to ask to be your partner in the next quadrille." 
 
 An artless confusion colored the white cheeks of the 
 pretty countess. 
 
 "But, monsieur, I have just refused a gentleman, a 
 soldier — " 
 
 "Was it that tall colonel of cuirassiers you see over 
 there ? " 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "Oh! he is my best friend; you need fear nothing. 
 Will you grant me the favor I have asked ? " 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 The tones of her voice revealed so strong and sud- 
 den an emotion that even the master of petitions was 
 startled. He felt reduced to the timidity of a school- 
 boy, he lost his cool assurance, his Southern brain 
 flared up, he tried to speak, but his words seemed to 
 him awkward compared with the sparkling repartees 
 of Madame de Soulanges. It was lucky for him that 
 the quadrille soon began. Standing beside his beauti- 
 
324 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 ful partner he grew more at his ease. To many men 
 dancing is a method of action; they think that by 
 displaying the graces of their figure they affect the 
 hearts of women more powerfully than by the charms 
 of their mind. Martial was, no doubt, intending to 
 employ all methods of seduction, judging by the cox- 
 combry of his motions and gestures. He now led his 
 conquest to her place in a certain quadrille to which 
 the most distinguished women in the room attached a 
 fanciful importance, preferring it to all others. While 
 the orchestra performed the prelude to the opening 
 figure, the baron looked about him with incredible 
 satisfaction to his pride, passing in review all the other 
 ladies of that formidable square, and perceiving that 
 his partner's dress rivalled even that of the Comtesse 
 de Vaudremont, who, by an accident (well-contrived, 
 perhaps), proved to be the vis-a-vis of the baron and 
 his blue lady. 
 
 The eyes of all the dancers rested for a moment on 
 Madame de Soulanges; a flattering murmur proved 
 that she was the topic of conversation ; admiring, and 
 even envious glances came so thickly upon her that, 
 ashamed of a triumph she seemed to decline, the 
 young woman modestly lowered her eyes and blushed, 
 which made her the more attractive. When she raised 
 her white eyelids it was only to look at her intoxicated 
 partner, as if, so he thought, she wished to convey to 
 him the homage she had won and let him know that 
 his was the flattery she preferred. She seemed to 
 give herself up with innocent coquetry to that naive 
 admiration by which young love begins. When she 
 danced, the spectators might well have believed she 
 
The Peace of a Home. 325 
 
 was displaying her graces for Martial only; and, 
 though modest, and new to the manoeuvres of salons, 
 she seemed to know, as well as the most practised 
 coquette, how and when to raise her eyes to his, and 
 when to lower them with feigned reserve. 
 
 When the rules of a new quadrille invented by the 
 dancer Trenis (to which he gave his name) brought 
 Martial alone in front of Montcornet, he said, 
 laughing: — 
 
 "I have won your horse." 
 
 "Yes, but you have lost eighty thousand francs a 
 year," replied the colonel, with a sign toward Madame 
 de Vaudremont. 
 
 "What's that to me?" said Martial. "Madame 
 de Soulanges compensates for millions." 
 
 By the end of this quadrille much whispering went 
 on from ear to ear. The plainest women moralized 
 with their partners on the dawning intimacy of Martial 
 and the blue lady. The beauties affected surprise at 
 its suddenness. The men declared that they could n't 
 understand the success of that little master of peti- 
 tions, in whom, for their parts, they could see nothing 
 attractive. A few indulgent women said it was un- 
 reasonable to judge the lady so hastily; it would be 
 most unfortunate for young women if an expressive 
 glance, or a gracefully danced figure were enough to 
 compromise them. 
 
 Martial alone knew the extent of his success. In 
 the last figure of the quadrille, when the ladies form 
 the moulinet, he was certain that he felt, through the 
 soft and perfumed kid of her glove, the gentle fingers 
 of the young woman replying to his amorous appeal. 
 
326 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 " Madame," he said, the moment the dance was 
 over, "pray don't return to that odious corner where 
 you have buried until now your face and your toilet. 
 Is admiration the only return you seek for those 
 splendid jewels which adorn your throat and your 
 exquisitely braided hair? Come and take a turn 
 through the salons to enjoy the ball and your own 
 effect." 
 
 Madame de Soulanges followed her partner, who 
 thought she might be more surely won if he succeeded 
 in exhibiting their intimacy. Together they took 
 several turns through the groups that crowded the 
 various salons. The countess, apparently uneasy, 
 always paused a moment before entering each salon, 
 and did not advance until she had cast a glance over 
 all the men who were in it. This fear, which filled 
 the master of petitions with delight, seemed to calm 
 itself when he assured her, "You need not be un- 
 easy; he is not there." 
 
 Presently they reached the large picture-gallery, 
 in one of the wings of the mansion where supper had 
 been laid for three hundred Quests. As the feast was 
 about to begin, Martial drew the countess toward an 
 oval boudoir opening out upon the gardens, where the 
 rarest flowers and a few choice shrubs made a per- 
 fumed bower beneath a mass of brilliant blue drap- 
 eries. The echoes of the ball died away there. Here 
 the countess hesitated, and refused at first to follow 
 the young man; but casting a glance into a mirror 
 on the wall, she probably saw that there were witnesses 
 in the room, for she suddenly changed her mind, 
 and sat down with sufficiently good grace upon an 
 ottoman. 
 
The Peace of a Home. 327 
 
 
 'This room is delightful," she said, looking up at 
 the sky-blue hangings which were roped with pearls. 
 
 "All is love and pleasure," murmured the young 
 man, in tones of emotion. 
 
 Taking advantage of the half-light to gaze closely 
 at the countess, he saw upon her face an expression 
 of trouble, shyness, and desire which enchanted him. 
 The young woman smiled, and the smile seemed to 
 put an end to a struggle of feelings within her soul; 
 she touched the left hand of her adorer and looked at 
 the ring on which her eyes had already fastened. 
 
 "What a beautiful diamond! " she said, with the 
 artless expression of a girl who betrays the tempta- 
 tion that a bauble is to her. 
 
 Martial, much moved by the involuntary but intoxi- 
 cating caress of the countess's hand upon his own, 
 looked at her with eyes as dazzling as the diamond 
 itself. 
 
 "Wear it," he said, taking off the ring, "in memory 
 of this celestial hour, and for love of — " 
 
 She looked at it with such ecstasy that he kissed 
 her hand. 
 
 "Do you give it to me?" she said, in a tone of 
 surprise. 
 
 "I would fain give you the whole world." 
 
 "You are not jesting?" she continued, in a voice 
 which betrayed her keen satisfaction. 
 
 "Will you accept my diamond only? " 
 
 "You will not take it back? " she asked. 
 
 "Never." 
 
 She put the ring upon her finger. Martial, sure of 
 his coming happiness, made a gesture as if to pass 
 
328 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 his arm about her waist, but the countess suddenly 
 rose, and said, in a clear voice, without the slightest 
 emotion: — 
 
 "Monsieur, I accept this diamond with all the less 
 scruple because it belongs to me." 
 
 The master of petitions was confounded. 
 
 "Monsieur de Soulanges took it lately from my 
 dressing-table and told me he had mislaid it." 
 
 "You are wrong, madame," said Martial, in a 
 piqued tone. "I received it from Madame de 
 Vaudremont." 
 
 "Precisely," she replied, smiling. "My husband 
 borrowed the ring of me, he gave it to her, and she 
 has given it to you ; my ring has travelled, that is all. 
 It can tell me now, perhaps, what I may have ignored, 
 — the secret of pleasing. Monsieur," she continued, 
 gravely, "if it had not been mine, be assured that I 
 should not have risked so much to recover it; for a 
 young woman is, they say, in danger from your atten- 
 tions. But," she added, laughing, and touching a 
 secret spring beneath the diamond, "see, my hus- 
 band's hair is still in it." 
 
 So saying, she darted away through the salons with 
 such rapidity that he saw it was useless to attempt to 
 follow her, and, moreover, he was no longer in a 
 mood to continue the adventure. The lady's laugh 
 was echoed in the room itself, where, ensconced behind 
 two shrubs, the coxcomb now beheld the colonel and 
 Madame de Vaudremont, who were laughing heartily. 
 
 "Will you have my horse to run after your con- 
 quest?" said the colonel. 
 
 The good grace with which the baron accepted the 
 
The Peace of a Home, 829 
 
 jests Madame de Vaudremont and Montcornet now 
 rained down upon him, earned him their silence upon 
 this scene, where a charger was won in exchange for a 
 young, and pretty, and wealthy widow. 
 
 As the Comtesse de Soulanges was driven home 
 through the space that separates the Chaussee-d'Antin 
 from the faubourg Saint-Germain, where she lived, her 
 soul was filled with the keenest anxiety. Before leav- 
 ing the hotel Gondreville, she had gone through all the 
 salons without being able to find either her aunt or her 
 husband, who, as we know, had left the ball before 
 her. Dreadful presentiments now tortured her inno- 
 cent soul. A silent witness of the sufferings her 
 husband had endured from the day when Madame 
 de Vaudremont attached him to her chariot, she had 
 confidently hoped that a coming repentance would 
 bring him back to her. It was therefore with great 
 repugnance that she agreed to a plan laid by her aunt, 
 Madame de Lansac, and she now feared that in doing 
 so she had committed an irreparable fault. The 
 events of the evening had depressed her candid soul. 
 Alarmed at the gloomy, suffering air of her husband, 
 she was still more alarmed by the beauty of her rival, 
 and the corruption of society which she saw about her. 
 Crossing the pont Royal she flung away the desecrated 
 hair contained in the ring once given as the pledge of 
 a pure love. She wept as she recalled the sufferings 
 she had lived through for months, and shuddered at 
 the thought of a wife's duty which requires her, if she 
 would retain the peace of her home, to bury in her 
 heart, without uttering a complaint, the cruel agony 
 she was now enduring. 
 
330 The Peace of a Home. 
 
 "Alas! " she thought, "how should women act who 
 love their husbands? Where is the source of their 
 peace of mind? I do not believe, as my aunt tells 
 me, that mere reason is sufficient to support them 
 under such a trial." 
 
 She sighed as the chasseur let down the steps of the 
 carriage, from which she sprang into the vestibule of 
 her house. Thence she ran quickly upstairs; but 
 when she reached her room she trembled in every 
 limb on seeing her husband sitting by the fireplace, 
 and evidently waiting for her. 
 
 "Since when, my dear," he said, in a high and 
 strained voice, "have you thought it right to go to a 
 ball without letting me know of your intention. Let 
 me tell you that a wife is out of place in public unless 
 accompanied by her husband. You compromised 
 yourself strangely in that dark corner where you chose 
 to put yourself." 
 
 "Oh! my good Leon," she said, in a caressing 
 voice, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction, "I 
 could n't resist the pleasure of seeing you without 
 your seeing me. My aunt took me to the ball ; and I 
 have been very happy there." 
 
 These words disarmed the jealous anger of the count; 
 all the more because he had been making some bitter 
 reproaches to himself while dreading his wife's return. 
 No doubt, he thought, she was informed at the ball of 
 an infidelity he had hoped to conceal from her knowl- 
 edge, and, like other lovers, he rushed into jealousy 
 himself, hoping to be the first to cast reproaches, and 
 so evade the blame that was justly due to him. He 
 now looked silently at his wife, who, in her brilliant 
 
The Peace of a Home. 331 
 
 evening dress, seemed to him more beautiful than 
 ever; and the thought brought a smile to his face. 
 Happy in that smile, and glad to find her husband in 
 a room where, of late, he had come but seldom, the 
 countess looked at him tenderly. This clemency so 
 enraptured Soulanges, coming, as it did, after the tor- 
 tures he had gone through at the ball, that he seized 
 his wife's hand and kissed it gratefully; how often 
 we find true gratitude in love! 
 
 "Hortense, what is that on your finger that scratched 
 my lip? " he said, laughing. 
 
 "That," she said, "is my diamond ring, "which 
 you said was lost, but which I have recovered." 
 
 General Montcornet did not marry Madame de 
 Vaudremont. in spite of the good understanding 
 established between them in the course of this even- 
 ing, for the countess was one of the victims of that 
 dreadful conflagration which made the ball of the 
 Austrian ambassador, on the occasion of Napoleon's 
 marriage with the Archduchess Maria-Louisa, forever 
 celebrated. 
 
 THE END. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 MODESTE MlGNON. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 In " Modeste Mignon " we still have that masterly power of analysis, keen, 
 incisive, piercing superficiality and pretence, as a rapier pierces a doublet, but we 
 have in addition' the purity and sweetness of a genuine light comedy, — a comedy 
 which has for its central object the delineation of the mysteries of a young girl's 
 mind. 
 
 As a whole, " Modeste Mignon " is not only a masterpiece of French art, but 
 a masterpiece of that master before whom later novelists must pale their ineffec- 
 tual fires. As the different examples of Balzac's skill are brought before the pub- 
 lic through the excellent translations by Miss Wormeley, none competent to judge 
 can fail to perceive the power of that gigantic intellect which projected and carried 
 out the scheme of the Comedie Humaine, nor fail to understand the improvement 
 in literature that would result if Balzac's methods and aims were carefully studied 
 by all who aspire to the name of novelist. — New York Home Journal. 
 
 The public owes a debt of gratitude to the industrious translator of Balzac's 
 masterpieces. They follow one another with sufficient rapidity to stand in striking 
 contrast with each other. The conscientious reader of them cannot but lay down one 
 after another with an increasing admiration for their author's marvellous grasp upon 
 the great social forces which govern the thought and actions of men. In " Modeste 
 Mignon," as in " Eugenie Grandet," we find that the tremulous vibrations of first 
 love in the heart of a young and pure-minded girl are not deemed unworthy of this 
 great artist's study. The delicate growth of a sentiment which gradually expanded 
 into a passion, and which was absolutely free from any taint of sensuality, is 
 analyzed in " Modeste Mignon" with consummate skill. The plot of this book 
 is far from extraordinary. It is even commonplace. But where in these days 
 shall we find another author who can out of such a simple plot make a story like 
 the one before us? The many-sidedness of Balzac's genius is widely acknowl- 
 edged ; but there are probably few people among those whose acquaintance with 
 his writings has been necessarily limited to translations who could conceive of him 
 producing such a bright and sparkling story, thoroughly realistic, full of vitalizing 
 power, keen analysis, and depth of study and reflection, brilliantly imaginative, 
 and showing an elasticity in its creative process which cannot fail to attract every 
 lover of a higher and better art in fiction. 
 
 But light and delicate as Balzac's touch generally is throughout this volume, 
 there is also shown a slumbering force which occasionally awakens and delivers a 
 blow that seems as if it had been struck by the hammer of Thor. He ranges over 
 the whole scale of human passion and emotion, penetrates into the very inmost 
 chambers of the heart, apprehends its movements, and lays bare its weakness 
 with a firm and yet delicate touch of his scalpel. The book has been excellently 
 translated by Miss Wormeley. She is fully in sympathy with the author, and has 
 (Caught his spirit, and the result is a translation which preserves the full flavor, 
 vigor, and delicacy of the original. 
 
 One handsome \imo volume, uniform with " Plre Goriof," " The 
 Duchesse de Lan^cais," "Cesar Birottcau" "Eugenie Grandetf 
 ** Cousin Pons,'''' " The Country Doctor," "The Two Brothers,' 1 and 
 u The Alkahest" Half morocco, French style. Price^ $1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH 
 
 COUSIN BETTE 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 He [Balzac] does not make Vice the leading principle of life. The most terrible 
 punishment invariably awaits transgressors. . . . Psychologically considered, 
 i( Cousin Bette" with the " Peau de Chagrin " and " The Alkahest" are the most 
 
 Eowerful of all Balzac's studies. The marvellous acquaintance this romance-writer 
 ad with all phases and conditions of French men and women has never been 
 more strongly accentuated. For a French romance presenting difficulties in 
 translation, Miss Wormeley's work is excellent. Its faithfulness is even remark- 
 able. We can hardly conceive that after this series is completed Balzac will 
 remain unknown or unappreciated by American readers. — New York Times. 
 
 Balzac aspired to paint French life, especially Parisian life, in all its aspects, — 
 " the great modern monster with its every face," to use his own words ; and in no 
 one of his novels is his insight keener, his coloring bolder, or his disclosures of the 
 corruptions of city life more painfully realistic, than in " Cousin Bette." . . . Not 
 one of the admirably rendered series shows more breadth, skill, and sympathy 
 with every characteristic of the great French author than does this. And it is 
 quite a marvel of translation. — The American, Philadelphia. 
 
 'T is true the book is not for babes, but he must have strange views of innocence 
 who would ignore the influence for good inherent in such a work. Ignorance con- 
 stitutes but a sorry shield against the onslaughts of temptation. It is well if wis- 
 dom can be so cheaply got as by the perusal of the book. — American Hebreiv. 
 
 It is an awful picture, but it is emphatically a work of genius. ... It cannot 
 be said that "Cousin Bette" is a book for those who like only optimistic presen- 
 tations of life. It is a study in morbid pathology ; an inquiry into the working of 
 passions and vices, the mischief actually caused by what in all human societies is 
 too patent and too constantly in evidence to be denied or ignored. . . He [Bal- 
 zac] must be judged by the scientific standard, and from that point of view there 
 can be no hesitation in declaring " Cousin Bette " a most powerful work. — New 
 York Tribune. 
 
 And there is much in the characters that is improper and fortunately counter to 
 our civilization ; still the tone concerning these very things is a healthy one, and 
 Balzac's belief in purity and goodness, his faith in the better part of humanity, is 
 shown in the beautiful purity of Madame Hulot, and the lovely chastity of Hor= 
 tense. In " Cousin Bette," as in all Balzac's works, he manifests a familiarity 
 with the ethics of life which has gained for him the exalted position as the greatest 
 of French novelists. — St. Paul Dispatch. 
 
 One handsome \2mo volume, uniform "with " Pere Goriot" " The 
 Duchesse de Langcais" " Char Birotteau," " Eugenie Grandet" 
 11 Cousin Pons" " The Country Doctor" " The Two Brother -j," " The 
 Alkahest" " The Magic Skin" and " Modeste Mignon." Bound in half 
 morocco, French Style. Price, #1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 Boston. 
 
BALZAC'S PHILOSOPHICAL NOVELS. 
 
 THE MAGIC SKIN.— LOUIS LAMBERT. 
 — = SERAPHITA.= — 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION TO EACH NOVEL BY 
 
 GEORGE FREDERIC PARSONS. 
 
 [From Le Livre, Revue du Monde Litieraire, Paris, March, 1889.] 
 
 There are men so great that humanity passes generations of existences in 
 measuring them. . . . Certain it is that to-day the French Academy makes Bal- 
 zac's work the theme for its prize of eloquence, that the great writer is translated 
 and commented upon in foreign countries, and that in Paris and even at Tours, 
 his native place, statues are in process of being erected to him. . . . But the 
 marble of M. Chapus, the bronze of M. Fournier, — Balzac sad or Balzac seated, — 
 are of little consequence to the glory of the writer standing before the world, who 
 bore a world in his brain and brought it forth, who was at once the Diderot and 
 the Rabelais of this century, and who, above and beyond their fire, their imagina- 
 tion, their superabounding life, their hilarious spirit, paradoxical and marvellously 
 sagacious as it was, had in the highest degree the mystical gift of intuition, and is 
 able, beyond all others, to open to us illimitable vistas of the Unseen. 
 
 It is this side of Balzac's genius which at the present time attracts and pre- 
 occupies foreign critics. Mile Katharine Prescott Wormeley has undertaken to 
 translate the "Comedie Humaine" into English. She has already published 
 several volumes which show a most intelligent sympathy and a talent that is both 
 simple and vigorous. Lately she translated " La Peau de Chagrin " (" The Magic 
 Skin"), and now, taking another step into the esoteric work of the Master, she gives 
 to the Anglo-Saxon public ; ' Louis Lambert." But she does not venture upon this 
 arduous task without support. Mr. George Frederic Parsons has undertaken in a 
 long introduction to initiate the reader into the meaning hidden , or, we should rather 
 say, encased, in the psychologic study of a lofty soul which ends by inspiring mun- 
 dane minds with respect for its seeming madness and a deep sense of the Beyond. 
 . . . Many critics, and several noted ones, have so little understood the real mean- 
 ing of " Louis Lambert " and " Seraphita " that they have wondered why the au- 
 thor gave them a place in the " Comedie Humaine," which, nevertheless, without 
 them would be a temple without a pediment, as M. Taine very clearly saw and 
 said. Mr. Parsons takes advantage of Miss Wormeley's translation to state and 
 prove and elucidate this truth. The commentary may be thought a little long, a 
 little replete, or too full of comparisons and erudite reference ; but all serious 
 readers who follow it throughout will never regret that they have thus prepared 
 themselves to understand Balzac's work. We call the attention of the philosophi- 
 cal and thtjosophical journals to this powerful study. [Translated.] 
 
 Handsome i2mo volumes; bound in half Russia, French style. 
 Price, $1.50 per volume. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 SONS OF THE SOIL. 
 
 Translated by Kathau'ne Prescott Wormeley. 
 
 Many critics have regarded " Les Paysans," to which Miss Wormeley, 
 in her admirable translation, has given the title " Sons of the Soil," as one 
 of Balzac's strongest novels ; and it cannot fail to impress those who read 
 this English rendering of it. Fifty or sixty years ago Balzac made a pro- 
 found study of the effects produced by the Revolution upon the peasants 
 of the remote provinces of France, and he has here elaborated these obser- 
 vations in a powerful picture of one of those strange, disguised, but fero- 
 cious social wars which were at the time not only rendered possible, but 
 promoted by three potent influences, namely, the selfishness of the rich 
 landholders; the land-hunger and stimulated greed of the peasants; and 
 the calculated rapacity of middle-class capitalists, craftily using the hatreds 
 of the poor to forward their own plots. The first part of " Les Paysans " 
 (and the only part which was published during the author's life) appeared 
 under a title taken from an old and deeply significant proverb, Qui a terre 
 a guerre, — "Who has land has war." 
 
 It is the account of a guerilla war conducted by a whole country-sid^ 
 against one great land-owner, — a war in which, moreover, the lawless 
 aggressions of the peasantry are prompted, supported, and directed by an 
 amazing alliance between the richest, most unscrupulous, and most power 
 ful of the neighboring provincial magnates, who, by controlling, through 
 family council, the local administration, are in a position to paralyze resist 
 ance to their conspiracy. The working out of this deep plot affords the 
 author opportunity for the introduction of a whole gallery of marvelloui 
 studies. 
 
 It is perhaps hardly necessary to say that this powerful and absorbing 
 story is lifted above the level of romance by the unequalled artistic genius 
 of the author, and that it is at times almost transformed into a profound 
 political study by the depth and acumen of his suggestions and comments. 
 Nor should it be requisite to point out analogies with territorial conditions 
 in more than one other country, which lend to " Les Paysans " a special 
 interest and significance, and are likely to prevent it from becoming obsolete 
 for a long time to come. Of the translation it only need be said that it is 
 as good as Miss Wormeley has accustomed us to expect, and that means 
 the best rendering of French into English that has ever been done. — 
 New York Tribune. 
 
 Handsome 12mo volume, bound in half Russia. Price, 
 $1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 Fame and Sorrow, 
 
 girti ©tijer storks, 
 
 TRANSLATED BY KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 
 l2mo. Half Russia. Uniform with our edition of Balzac's 
 Works. Price, $1.50. In addition to this remarkable story, 
 the volume contains the following, namely : " Colonel Chabert," 
 "The Atheist's Mass," " La Grande Breteche," "The Purse," and 
 " La Grenadiere." 
 
 The force and passion of the stories of Balzac are unapproachable. He had 
 tha art of putting into half a dozen pages all the fire and stress which many 
 writers, who are still great, cannot compass in a volume. The present volume is 
 an admirable collection, and presents well his power of handling the short story. 
 That the translation is excellent need hardly be said — Boston Courier. 
 
 The six stories, admirably translated by Miss Wormeley, afford good examples 
 of Balzac's work in what not a few critics have thought his chief specialty. It is 
 certain that no writer of many novels wrote so many short stories as he ; and it is 
 equally as certain that his short stories are, almost without an exception, models 
 of what such compositions ought to be. . . No modern author, however, of any 
 school whatever, has succeeded in producing short stories half so good as Balzac's 
 best. Balzac did not, indeed, attempt to display his subtility and deftness by 
 writing short stories about nothing. Every one of his tales contains an episode, 
 not necessarily, but usually, a dramatic episode. The first in the present collec- 
 tion, better known as "La Maison du Chat-qui-pelote," is really a short novel. 
 It has all the machinery, all the interest, all the detail of a regular story. The 
 difference is that it is compressed as Balzac only could compress; that here and 
 there important events, changes, etc., are indicated in a few powerful lines instead 
 of being elaborated; that the vital points are thrown into strong relief. Take the 
 pathetic story of "Colonel Chabert." It begins with an elaboration of detail. 
 The description of the lawyer's office might seem to some too minute. But it is 
 the stage upon which the Colonel is to appear, and when he enters we see the 
 value of the preliminaries, for a picture is presented which the memory seizes and 
 holds. As the action progresses, detail is used more parsimoniously, because tha 
 mise-en-scene has already been completed, and because, also, the characters once 
 clearly described, the development of character and the working of passion can 
 be indicated with a few pregnant strokes. Notwithstanding this increasing 
 economy of space, the action takes on a swifter intensity, and the culmination ol 
 the tragedy leaves the reader breathless. 
 
 In "The Atheist's Mass" we have quite a new kind of story This is rather 
 a psychological study than a narrative of action. Two widely distinguished char- 
 acters are thrown on the canvas here, — that of the great surgeon and that of the 
 humble patron ; and one knows not which most to admire, the vigor of the 
 drawing, or the subtle and lucid psychical analysis. In both there is rare beauty of 
 soul, and perhaps, after all, the poor Auvergnat surpasses the eminent surgeon, 
 though this is a delicate and difficult question. But how complete the little story 
 is; how much it tells ; with what skill, and in how delightful a manner! Then 
 there is that tremendous haunting legend of " La Grande Breteche," a story which 
 has always been turned into more languages and twisted into more new forms than 
 almost any other of its kind extant. What author has equalled the continuing 
 horror of that unfaithful wife's agony, compelled to look on and assist at the slow 
 murder of her entrapped lpver? . . Then the death of the husband and wife, — 
 the one by quick and fiercer dissipation, the other by simple refusal to live longer, 
 — and the abandonment of the accursed dwelling to solitude and decay, complete 
 a picture, which for vividness, emotional force, imaginative power, and compre- 
 hensiveness of effects, can be said to have few equals in its own class of fiction. — 
 Kansas City Journal. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 
 the publishers) 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. Boston. 
 
BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 An Historical Mystery. 
 
 Translated by KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 
 12mo. Half Russia. Uniform with Balzac's Works. Price, $1.50. 
 
 An Historical Mystery is the title given to " Une Ten^breuse Affaire," which 
 has just appeared in the series of translations of Honore de Balzac's novels, by 
 Katharine Prescott Wormeley This exciting romance is full of stirring interest, 
 and is distinguished by that minute analysis of character in which its eminent 
 author excelled. The characters stand boldly out from the surrounding incidents, 
 and with a fidelity as wonderful as it is truthful. Plot and counterplot follow 
 each other with marvellous rapidity; and around the exciting days when Na- 
 poleon was First Consul, and afterward when he was Emperor, a mystery is 
 woven in which some royalists are concerned that is concealed with masterly 
 ingenuity until the novelist sees fit to take his reader into his confidence. The 
 heroine, Laurence, is a remarkably strong character; and the love-story in which 
 she figures is refreshing in its departure from the beaten path of the ordinary 
 writer of fiction. Michu, her devoted servant, has also a marked individuality, 
 which leaves a lasting impression. Napoleon, Talleyrand, Fouche, and other 
 historical personages, appear in the tale in a manner that is at once natural and 
 impressive. As an addition to a remarkable series, the book is one that no 
 admirer of Balzac can afford to neglect. Miss Wormeley's translation reproduces 
 the peculiarities of the author's style with the faithfulness for which she has 
 hitherto been celebrated. — Saturday Evening Gazette. 
 
 It makes very interesting reading at this distance of time, however; and Balzac 
 has given to the legendary account much of the solidity of history by his adroit 
 manipulation. For the main story it must be said that the action is swifter and 
 more varied than in many of the author's books, and that there are not wanting 
 many of those cameo-like portraits necessary to warn the reader against slovenly 
 perusal of this carefully written story; for the complications are such, and the re- 
 lations between the several plots involved so intricate, that the thread might 
 easily be lost and much of the interest be thus destroyed The usual Balzac 
 compactness is of course present throughout, to give body and significance to the 
 work, and the stage is crowded with impressive figures. It would be impossible 
 to find a book which gives a better or more faithful illustration of one of the 
 strangest periods in French history, in short ; and its attraction as a story is at 
 least equalled by its value as a true picture of the time it is concerned with. The 
 translation is as spirited and close as Miss Wormeley has taught us to expect in 
 this admirable series. — New York Tribime. 
 
 One of the most intensely interesting novels that Balzac ever wrote is An 
 Historical Mystery, whose translation has just been added to the preceding 
 novels that compose the "Comedie Humaine " so admirably translated by Miss 
 Katharine Prescott Wormeley. The story opens in the autumn of 1803, in the 
 time of the Empire, and the motive is in deep-laid political plots, which are re- 
 vealed with the subtle and ingenious skill that marks the art of Balzac. . . The 
 story is a deep-laid political conspiracy of the secret service of the ministry of 
 the police. Talleyrand, M'lle de Cinq-Cvgne, the Princess de Cadigan, Louis 
 XVIII., as well as Napoleon, figure as characters of this thrilling historic ro- 
 mance. An absorbing love-story is also told, in which State intrigue plays an 
 important part. The character-drawing is faithful to history, and the story illu- 
 minates French life in the early years of the century as if a calcium light were 
 thrown on the scene. 
 
 It is a romance of remarkable power and one of the most deeply fascinating 
 of all the novels of the ''Comedie Humaine." 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of 
 price by the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Balzac in English. 
 
 Albert Savarus, with Paz (La Fausse 
 Maitresse) and Madame Firmiani. By 
 
 Honore de Balzac. Translated by Katharine Prescott 
 Wormeley. 
 
 There is much in this, one of the most remarkable of his books, 
 which is synonymous with Balzac's own life. It is the story of a man's 
 first love for woman, his inspirer, the source from whom he derives 
 his power of action. It also contains many details on his habits of 
 life and work. 
 
 The three short stories in this volume, — 'Albert Savarus,* 'Paz' and ' Madame 
 Firmiani' — are chips from that astounding workshop which never ceased its Hephces- 
 tian labors and products until Balzac was no more Short stories of this character 
 flew from his glowing forge like sparks from an anvil, the playthings of an idle hour, 
 the interludes of a more vivid drama. Three of them gathered here illustrate as 
 usual Parisian and provincial life, two in a very noble fashion, Balzacian to the core. 
 The third — ' Albert Savarus' — has many elements of tragedy and grandeur in it, 
 spoiled only by an abruptness in the conclusion and an accumulation of unnecessary 
 horrors that chill the reader. It is a block of tragic marble hewn, not to a finish, but 
 
 to a fine prophetic suggestion of what is to follow if ! The if never emerges 
 
 from conditionality to fulfilment. The beautiful lines and sinuous curves of the 
 nascent statue are there, not fully born of the encasing stone ; what sculptors call the 
 'tenons' show in all their visibility — the supports and scaffoldings reveal their 
 presence ; the forefront is finished as in a Greek metope or Olympian tympanum, 
 where broken Lapiths and Centaurs disport themselves ; but the background is rude 
 and primitive. 
 
 In ' Madame Firmiani' a few brilliant pages suffice to a perfect picture, — one of 
 the few spotless pictures of this superb yet sinning magician so rich in pictures. It is 
 French nature that Balzac depicts, warm with all the physical impulses, undisguised 
 in its assaults on the soul, ingeniously sensual, odiously loose in its views of marriage 
 and the marriage relation, but splendidly picturesque. In this brief romance noble 
 words are wedded to noble music. In ' Paz ' an almost equal nobility of thought — 
 the nobility of self-renunciation — is attained. Balzac endows his men and women 
 with happy millions and unhappy natures: the red ruby — the broken heart — blazes 
 in a setting of gold. ' Paz,' the sublime Pole who loves the wife of his best friend, 
 a Slav Croesus, is no exception to the rule. The richest rhetoric, the sunniest colors, 
 fail to counteract the Acherontian gloom of these lives and sorrows snatched from the 
 cauldron of urban and rural France, — a cauldron that burns hotter than any other 
 with its strange Roman and Celtic ardors. Balzac was perpetually dipping into it and 
 drawing from it the wonderful and extraordinary incidents of his novels, incidents often 
 monstrous in their untruth if looked at from any other than a French point of view. 
 Thus, the devilish ingenuity of the jealous woman in ' Albert Savarus' would seem 
 unnatural anywhere else than in the sombre French provinces of 1836, — a toadstool 
 sprung up in the rank moonlight of the religious conventual system of education for 
 women ; but there, and then, and as one result of this system of repression, it 
 seems perfectly natural. And so does the beautiful self-abnegation of Albert himself, 
 that high-strung soul that could have been born only in nervous and passionate 
 France. 
 
 As usual, Miss Wormeley's charming translation floats the reader over these 
 pages in the swiftest and airiest manner. — The Critic. 
 
 One handsome i2mo volume, uniform with " Pere Goriot," " The 
 Duchesse de Langeais," " Cesar Birotteau," " Eugenie Grandet," 
 " Cousin Pons," " The Country Doctor," " The Two Brothers," and 
 " The Alkahest." Half morocco, French style. Price, $1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications, 
 
 A MEMOIR OF HONORE DE BALZAG. 
 
 Compiled and written by Katharine Prescott Wormeley, translator 
 of Balzac's works. With portrait of Balzac, taken one hour after 
 death, by Eugene Giraud, and a Sketch of the Prison of the College 
 de Vendome. One volume, i2mo. Half Russia, uniform with our 
 edition of Balzac's works. Price, #1.50. 
 
 A complete life of Balzac can probably never be written. The sole object of 
 the present volume is to present Balzac to American readers. This memoir is 
 meant to be a presentation of the man, — and not of his work, except as it was a 
 part of himself, — derived from authentic sources of information, and presented in 
 their own words, with such simple elucidations as a close intercourse with Balzac's 
 mind, necessitated by conscientious translation, naturally gives. The portrait 
 in this volume was considered by Madame de Balzac the best likeness of her 
 husband. 
 
 Miss Wormeley's discussion of the subject is of value in many ways, and it has 
 long been needed as a help to comprehension of his life and character. Person- 
 ally, he lived up to his theory. His life was in fact austere. Any detailed ac- 
 count of the conditions under which he worked, such as are given in this volume, 
 will show that this must have been the case ; and the fact strongly reinforces the 
 doctrine. Miss Wormeley, in arranging her account of his career, has, almost 
 of necessity, made free use of the letters and memoir published by Balzac's sister, 
 Madame Surville. She has also, whenever it would serve the purpose of illus- 
 tration better, quoted from the sketches of him by his contemporaries, wisely 
 rejecting the trivialities and frivolities by the exaggeration of which many of his 
 first chroniclers seemed bent upon giving the great author a kind of opera-bouffe 
 aspect. To judge from some of these accounts, he was flighty, irresponsible, 
 possibly a little mad, prone to lose touch of actualities by the dominance of his 
 imagination, fond of wild and impracticable schemes, and altogether an eccentric 
 and unstable person. But it is not difficult to prove that Balzac was quite a 
 different character ; that he possessed a marvellous power of intellectual organi- 
 zation ; that he was the most methodical and indefatigable of workers; that he 
 was a man of a most delicate sense of honor ; that his life was not simply de- 
 voted to literary ambition, but was a martyrdom to obligations which were his 
 misfortune, but not his fault. 
 
 All this Miss Wormley has well set forth ; and in doing so she has certainly 
 relieved Balzac of much unmerited odium, and has enabled those who have not 
 made a study of his character and work to understand how high the place is in 
 any estimate of the helpers of modern progress and enlightenment to which his 
 genius and the loftiness of his aims entitle him. This memoir is a very modest 
 biography, though a very good one. The author has effaced herself as much as 
 possible, and has relied upon " documents " whenever they were trustworthy. — 
 N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of 
 Price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Balzac in English. 
 
 PIERRETTE 
 
 AND 
 
 The Vicar ok Tours. 
 
 BY HONORS DE BALZAC. 
 Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. 
 
 In Pierrette, which Miss Wormeley has added to her series of felicitous 
 translations from the French master-fictionists, Balzac has made within 
 brief compass a marvellously sympathetic study of the martyrdom of a 
 young girl. Pierrette, a flower of Brittany, beautiful, pale, and fair and 
 sweet, is taken as an undesired charge by sordid-minded cousins in Pro- 
 vins, and like an exotic transplanted into a harsh and sour so'l she withers 
 and fades under the cruel conditions of her new environment. Inciden- 
 tally Balzac depicts in vivid colors the struggles of two shon-keepers — a 
 brother and sister, who have amassed a little fortune in Paris — to gain a 
 foothold among the bourgeoisie of their native town. These two become 
 the prey of conspirators for political advancement, and the rivalries thus 
 engendered shake the small provincial society to its centre. Put the 
 charm of the tale is in the portrayal of the character of Pierretle, who 
 understands only how to love, and who cannot live in an atmosphere of 
 suspicion and ill-treatment. The story is of course sad, but its fidelity to 
 life and the pathos of it are elements of unfailing interest. Balzac brings 
 a score or more of people upon the stage, shows each one as he or she 
 really is both in outward appearance and inward nature, and then allows 
 motives and circumstances to work out an inevitable result. To watch 
 this process is like being present at some wonderful chemical experiment 
 where the ingredients are mixed with a deft and careful hand, and combine 
 to produce effects of astonishing significance. The social genesis of the 
 old maid in her most abhorrent form occupies much of Balzac's attention 
 in Pierrette, and this theme also has a place in the story of The Vicar of 
 Tours, bound up in this same volume. The vicar is a simple-minded 
 priest who is happy enough till he takes up his quarters with an old maid 
 landlady, who pesters and annoys him in many ways, and finally sends him 
 forth despoiled of his worldly goods and a laughing-stock for the country- 
 side. There is a great deal of humor in the tale, but one must confess 
 that the humor is of a rather heavy sort, it being weighed dow r n by a domi- 
 nant satirical purpose. — The Beacon. 
 
 One handsome i2mo volume, uniform with " Pere Goriot," 
 " The Duchesse de Langeais," " Cesar Birotteau," " Eugenie 
 Grandet," " Cousin Pons," " The Country Doctor," " The Tw« 
 Brothers," and " The Alkahest." Half morocco, French style 
 Price, $1.50. 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, Boston. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 Lost Illusions : Tie Two Poets, and Eve end David. 
 
 By HONORE DE BALZAC. 
 
 S 
 
 eing the twenty-third volume of Miss Wormeley's translation of 
 Balzac's novels. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. 
 
 For her latest translation of the Balzac fiction cycle, Miss Wormeley gives us 
 the first and third parts of "Illusion Perdue," under the caption of "Lost 
 Illusions," namely, "The Two Poets" and " Eve and David." This arrange- 
 ment is no doubt a good one, for the readers are thus enabled to follow the consecu- 
 tive fortunes of the Angouleme folk, while the adventures of Eve's poet-brother, 
 Lucien, which occur in Pans and make a tale by themselves, are thus left for a 
 separate publication. The novel, as we have it, then, belongs to the category of 
 those scenes from provincial life which Balzac found so stimulating to his genius. 
 This story, certainly, in some respects takes high rank among them. The 
 character-drawing is fine: Lucien, the ambitious, handsome, weak-willed, selfish, 
 and easily-sinning young bourgeois, is contrasted with David, — a touching picture 
 of the struggling inventor, born of the people and sublimely one-purposed and 
 pure in his life. Eve, the type of a faithful large-brained and larger-hearted wife, 
 who supports her husband through all his hardships with unfaltering courage and 
 kindness, is another noble creation. David inherits a poorish "printing business 
 from his skin-flint of a father, neglects it while devoting all his time and energy to 
 his discovery of an improved method of making paper ; and through the evil 
 machinations of the rival printing firm of the Cointets, as well as the debts foisted 
 on him by Lucien in Paris, he is brought into money difficulties and even into 
 prison. But his invention, although sold at a sacrifice to the cunning Cointets, 
 gets him out of the hole at last, and he and his good wife retire on a comfortable 
 competency, which is augmented at the death of his father into a good-sized 
 fortune. The seamy side of law in the provinces is shown up in Balzac's keen, 
 inimitable way in the description of the winding of the coils around the unsuspect- 
 ing David and the depiction of such men as the brothers Cointets and the shrewd 
 little petifogging rascal, Petit Claud. The pictures of Angouleme aristocratic 
 circles, too, with Lucien as high priest, are vivacious, and show the novelist's 
 wonderful observation in all ranks of life. The bit of wild romance by which 
 Lucien becomes the secretary of a Spanish grandee lends a fairy-tale flavor to tne 
 main episodes. Balzac, in whom is united the most lynx-eyed realism and the 
 most extravagant romanticism, is ever and always one of the great masters in 
 fiction of our century. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt of 
 the price by the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Pitblicatio7is. 
 
 BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 A Great Man of the Provinces in Paris. 
 
 By HONORE DE BALZAC. 
 
 Being the second part of " Lost Illusions." Translated by Kath- 
 arine Prescott Wormeley. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. 
 
 We are beginning to look forward to the new translations of Balzac by Katha- 
 rine Wormeley almost as eagerly as to the new works of the best contemporary 
 writers. But, unlike the writings of most novelists, Balzac's novels cannot be 
 judged separately. They belong together, and it is impossible to understand the 
 breadth and depth of the great writer's insight into human life by reading any 
 one volume of this remarkable series. For instance, we rise from the reading of 
 this last volume feeling as if there was nothing high or noble or pure in life. But 
 what would be more untrue than to fancy that Balzac was unable to appreciate 
 the true and the good and the beautiful ! Compare " The Lily of the Valley " 
 or " Seraphita " or "Louis Lambert" with "The Duchesse of Langeais" and 
 " Cousin Bette," and then perhaps the reader will be able to criticise Balzac with 
 some sort of justice. — Boston Tra7iscript. 
 
 Balzac paints the terrible verities of life with an inexorable hand. The siren 
 charms, the music and lights, the feast and the dance, are presented in voluptu- 
 ous colors — but read to the end of the book! There are depicted with equal 
 truthfulness the deplorable consequences of weakness and crime. Some have 
 read Balzac's " Cousin Bette " and have pronounced him immoral ; but when 
 the last chapter of any of his novels is read, the purpose of the whole is clear, and 
 immorality cannot be alleged. Balzac presents life. His novels are as truthful 
 as they are terrible. — Springfield Union. 
 
 Admirers of Balzac will doubtless enjoy the mingled sarcasm and keen analy- 
 sis of human nature displayed in the present volume, brought out with even more 
 than the usual amount of the skill and energy characteristic of the author. — 
 Pittsburgh Post. 
 
 The art of Balzac, the wonderful power of his contrast, the depth of his 
 knowledge of life and men and things, this tremendous story illustrates. How 
 admirably the rise of the poet is traced ; the crescendo is perfect in gradation, yet 
 as inexorable as fate! As for the fall, the effect is more depressing than a 
 personal catastrophe. This is a book to read over and over, an epic of life in 
 prose, more tremendous than the blank verse of " Paradise Lost " or the 
 "Divine Comedy." Miss Wormeley and the publishers deserve not congratula- 
 tions aione, but thanks for adding this book and its predecessor, " Lost Illusions," 
 to the literature of English. — San Francisco Wave. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the 
 Publishers 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
 BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
 
 THE BROTHERHOOD OF CONSOLATION. 
 
 (L'ENVERS DE L'HISIOIRE CONTEMPORAINE.) 
 
 By HONORE DE BALZAC. 
 
 t. Madame de la Chanterie. 2. The Initiate. Translated by 
 Katharine Prescott Wormeley. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, 
 $1.50. 
 
 There is no book of Balzac which is informed by a loftier spirit than 
 "L'Envers de 1'Histoire Contemporaine," which has just been added by Miss 
 Wormeley to her admirable series of translations under the title, " The Brother- 
 hood of Consolation." The title which is given to the translation is, to our 
 thinking, a happier one than that which the work bears in the original, since, after 
 all, the political and historical portions of the book are only the background of the 
 other and more absorbing theme, — the development of the brotherhood over 
 which Madame de la Chanterie presided. It is true that there is about it all 
 something theatrical, something which shows the French taste for making godli- 
 ness itself histrionically effective, that quality of mind which would lead a Parisian 
 to criticise the coming of the judgment angels if their entrance were not happily 
 arranged and properly executed ; but in spite of this there is an elevation such as 
 it is rare to meet with in literature, and especially in the literature of Balzac's age 
 and land. The story is admirably told, and the figure of the Baron Bourlac is 
 really noble in its martyrdom of self-denial and heroic patience. The picture of 
 the Jewish doctor is a most characteristic piece of work, and shows Balzac's 
 intimate touch in every line. Balzac was always attracted by the mystical side 
 of the physical nature ; and it might almost be said that everything that savored 
 of mystery, even though it ran obviously into quackery, had a strong attraction 
 for him. He pictures Halpersohn with a few strokes, but his picture of him has 
 a striking vitality and reality. The volume is a valuable and attractive addition to 
 the series to which it belongs ; and the series comes as near to fulfilling the ideal 
 of what translations should be as is often granted to earthly things. — Boston 
 Courier. 
 
 The book, which is one of rare charm, is one of the most refined, while at the 
 same time tragic, of all his works. — Public Opinion. 
 
 His present work is a fiction beautiful in its conception, just one of those 
 practical ideals which Balzac nourished and believed in. Tliere never was greater 
 homage than he pays to the book of books, " The Imitation of Jesus Christ." 
 Miss Wormeley has here accomplished her work just as cleverly as in her other 
 volumes of Balzac. — N. Y. Times. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the 
 Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers Publications. 
 
 THE VILLAGE RECTOR. 
 
 By Honore de Balzac. 
 
 Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. 12010. 
 Half Russia. Price, #1.50. 
 
 Once more that wonderful acquaintance which Balzac had with all callings 
 appears manifest in this work. Would you get to the bottom of the engineer's 
 occupatiou in France? Balzac presents it in the whole system, with its aspects, 
 disadvantages, and the excellence of the work accomplished. We write to-day 
 of irrigation and of arboriculture as if they were novelties ; yet in the waste lands 
 of Montagnac, Balzac found these topics ; and what he wrote is the clearest 
 exposition of the subjects. 
 
 But, above all, in "The Village Rector" is found the most potent of religious 
 ideas, — the one that God grants pardon to sinners. Balzac had studied and 
 appreciated the intensely human side of Catholicism and its adaptiveness to the 
 wants of mankind. It is religion, with Balzac, " that opens to us an inexhaustible 
 treasure of indulgence." It is true repentance that saves. 
 
 The drama which is unrolled in "The Village Rector" is a terrible one, and 
 perhaps repugnant to our sensitive minds. The selection of such a plot, pitiless 
 as it is, Balzac made so as to present the darkest side of human nature, and to 
 show how, through God's pity, a soul might be saved. The instrument of mercy 
 is the Rector Bonnet, and in the chapter entitled " The Rector at Work " he 
 shows how religion " extends a man's life beyond the world." It is not sufficient 
 to weep and moan. "That is but the beginning; the end is action." The 
 rector urges the woman whose sins are great to devote what remains of her life 
 to work for the benefit of her brothers and sisters, and so she sets about reclaim- 
 ing the waste lands which surround her chateau. With a talent of a superlative 
 order, which gives grace to Veronique, she is like the Madonna of some old panel 
 of Van Eyck's. Doing penance, she wears close to her tender skin a haircloth 
 vestment. For love of her, a man has committed murder and died and kept his 
 secret. In her youth, Veronique's face had been pitted, but her saintly life had 
 obliterated that spotted mantle of smallpox. Tears had washed out every blemish. 
 If through true repentance a soul was ever saved, it was Veronique's. This 
 work, too, has afforded consolation to many miserable sinners, and showed them 
 the way to grace. 
 
 The present translation is to be cited for its wonderful accuracy and its literary 
 distinction. We can hardly think of a more difficult task than the Englishing of 
 Balzac, and a general reading public should be grateful for the admirable manner 
 in which Miss Wormeley has performed her task. — New York Times. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, on receipt 
 of price by the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston, Mass. 
 
Messrs. Roberts Brothers' Publicatio7is. 
 
 2Bal3ac in <£nglx£f). 
 
 iEiOIRS OF TWO YOUNC MARRIED WOMEN. 
 
 By Honore de Balzac. 
 
 Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. 12 mo. 
 Half Russia. Price, $1.50. 
 
 " There are," says Henry James in one of his essays, "two writers in 
 Balzac, — the spontaneous one and the reflective one, the former of 
 which is much the more delightful, while the latter is the more extraordi- 
 nary." It is the reflective Balzac, the Balzac with a theory, whom we 
 get in the " Deux Jeunes Mariees," now translated by Miss Wormeley 
 under the title of " Memoirs of Two Young Married Women." The 
 theory of Balzac is that the marriage of convenience, properly regarded, 
 is far preferable to the marriage simply from love, and he undertakes to 
 prove this proposition by contrasting the careers of two young girls who 
 have been fellow-students at a convent. One of them, the ardent and 
 passionate Louise de Chaulieu, has an intrigue with a Spanish refugee, 
 finally marries him, kills him, as she herself confesses, by her perpetual 
 jealousy and exaction, mourns his loss bitterly, then marries a golden- 
 haired youth, lives with him in a dream of ecstasy for a year or so, and 
 this time kills herself through jealousy wrongfully inspired. As for her 
 friend, Renee de Maucombe, she dutifully makes a marriage to please her 
 parents, calculates coolly beforehand how many children she will have and 
 how they shall be trained; insists, however, that the marriage shall be 
 merely a civil contract till she and her husband find that their hearts are 
 indeed one; and sees all her brightest visions realized, — her Louis an 
 ambitious man for her sake and her children truly adorable creatures. 
 The story, which is told in the form of letters, fairly scintillates with 
 brilliant sayings, and is filled with eloquent discourses concerning the 
 nature of love, conjugal and otherwise. Louise and Ren6e are both 
 extremely sophisticated young women, even in their teens ; and those 
 who expect to find in their letters the demure innocence of the Anglo- 
 Saxon type will be somewhat astonished. The translation, under the 
 circumstances, was rather a daring attempt, but it has been most felicit- 
 ously done. — The Deacon. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of 
 price by the Publishers, 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston. Mass. 
 

 
 14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 •>•' 
 
 - _^_ 
 
 St • *' : J? ,* V 
 
 ( • 
 
 #\W 
 
 
 mm 
 
 .- 
 
 \ 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 MAY 1 - 
 
 363 
 
 
 • ' B I I 4 
 
 ; J 
 
 
 
 
 1 • A B 
 
 1 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 » 1' ••'. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 U - Hi 
 
 
 LD 21A-50m-ll,'62 
 (D3279sl0)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
 
H*f 
 
 96258 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 &*• 
 
i v