A PRINCE OF BOHEMIA BY HONORE DE BALZAC Translated by Clara Bell and others DEDICATION To Henri Heine. I inscribe this to you, my dear Heine, to you that represent in Paris the ideas and poetry of Germany, in Germany the lively and witty criticism of France; for you better than any other will know whatsoever this Study may contain of criticism and of jest, of love and truth. DE BALZAC. A PRINCE OF BOHEMIA "My dear friend, " said Mme. De la Baudraye, drawing a pile ofmanuscript from beneath her sofa cushion, "will you pardon me in ourpresent straits for making a short story of something which you toldme a few weeks ago?" "Anything is fair in these times. Have you not seen writers serving uptheir own hearts to the public, or very often their mistress' heartswhen invention fails? We are coming to this, dear; we shall go inquest of adventures, not so much for the pleasure of them as for thesake of having the story to tell afterwards. " "After all, you and the Marquise de Rochefide have paid the rent, andI do not think, from the way things are going here, that I ever payyours. " "Who knows? Perhaps the same good luck that befell Mme. De Rochefidemay come to you. " "Do you call it good luck to go back to one's husband?" "No; only great luck. Come, I am listening. " And Mme. De la Baudraye read as follows: "Scene--a splendid salon in the Rue de Chartres-du-Roule. One of the most famous writers of the day discovered sitting on a settee beside a very illustrious Marquise, with whom he is on such terms of intimacy, as a man has a right to claim when a woman singles him out and keeps him at her side as a complacent _souffre-douleur_ rather than a makeshift. " "Well, " says she, "have you found those letters of which you spokeyesterday? You said that you could not tell me all about _him_ withoutthem?" "Yes, I have them. " "It is your turn to speak; I am listening like a child when his motherbegins the tale of _Le Grand Serpentin Vert_. " "I count the young man in question in that group of our acquaintanceswhich we are wont to style our friends. He comes of a good family; heis a man of infinite parts and ill-luck, full of excellentdispositions and most charming conversation; young as he is, he isseen much, and while awaiting better things, he dwells in Bohemia. Bohemianism, which by rights should be called the doctrine of theBoulevard des Italiens, finds its recruits among young men betweentwenty and thirty, all of them men of genius in their way, littleknown, it is true, as yet, but sure of recognition one day, and whenthat day comes, of great distinction. They are distinguished as it isat carnival time, when their exuberant wit, repressed for the rest ofthe year, finds a vent in more or less ingenious buffoonery. "What times we live in! What an irrational central power which allowssuch tremendous energies to run to waste! There are diplomatists inBohemia quite capable of overturning Russia's designs, if they butfelt the power of France at their backs. There are writers, administrators, soldiers, and artists in Bohemia; every faculty, everykind of brain is represented there. Bohemia is a microcosm. If theCzar would buy Bohemia for a score of millions and set its populationdown in Odessa--always supposing that they consented to leave theasphalt of the boulevards--Odessa would be Paris with the year. InBohemia, you find the flower doomed to wither and come to nothing; theflower of the wonderful young manhood of France, so sought after byNapoleon and Louis XIV. , so neglected for the last thirty years by themodern Gerontocracy that is blighting everything else--that splendidyoung manhood of whom a witness so little prejudiced as ProfessorTissot wrote, 'On all sides the Emperor employed a younger generationin every way worthy of him; in his councils, in the generaladministration, in negotiations bristling with difficulties or full ofdanger, in the government of conquered countries; and in all placesYouth responded to his demands upon it. Young men were for Napoleonthe _missi hominici_ of Charlemagne. ' "The word Bohemia tells you everything. Bohemia has nothing and livesupon what it has. Hope is its religion; faith (in oneself) its creed;and charity is supposed to be its budget. All these young men aregreater than their misfortune; they are under the feet of Fortune, yetmore than equal to Fate. Always ready to mount and ride an _if_, wittyas a _feuilleton_, blithe as only those can be that are deep in debtand drink deep to match, and finally--for here I come to my point--hotlovers and what lovers! Picture to yourself Lovelace, and HenriQuatre, and the Regent, and Werther, and Saint-Preux, and Rene, andthe Marechal de Richelieu--think of all these in a single man, and youwill have some idea of their way of love. What lovers! Eclectic of allthings in love, they will serve up a passion to a woman's order; theirhearts are like a bill of fare in a restaurant. Perhaps they havenever read Stendhal's _De l'Amour_, but unconsciously they put it inpractice. They have by heart their chapters--Love-Taste, Love-Passion, Love-Caprice, Love-Crystalized, and more than all, Love-Transient. Allis good in their eyes. They invented the burlesque axiom, 'In thesight of man, all women are equal. ' The actual text is more vigorouslyworded, but as in my opinion the spirit is false, I do not stand niceupon the letter. "My friend, madame, is named Gabriel Jean Anne Victor Benjamin GeorgeFerdinand Charles Edward Rusticoli, Comte de la Palferine. TheRusticolis came to France with Catherine de Medici, having been oustedabout that time from their infinitesimal Tuscan sovereignty. They aredistantly related to the house of Este, and connected by marriage tothe Guises. On the day of Saint-Bartholomew they slew a goodly numberof Protestants, and Charles IX. Bestowed the hand of the heiress ofthe Comte de la Palferine upon the Rusticoli of that time. The Comte, however, being a part of the confiscated lands of the Duke of Savoy, was repurchased by Henri IV. When that great king so far blundered asto restore the fief; and in exchange, the Rusticoli--who had bornearms long before the Medici bore them to-wit, _argent_ a cross flory_azure_ (the cross flower-de-luced by letters patent granted byCharles IX. ), and a count's coronet, with two peasants for supporterswith the motto IN HOC SIGNO VINCIMUS--the Rusticoli, I repeat, retained their title, and received a couple of offices under the crownwith the government of a province. "From the time of the Valois till the reign of Richelieu, as it may becalled, the Rusticoli played a most illustrious part; under Louis XIV. Their glory waned somewhat, under Louis XV. It went out altogether. Myfriend's grandfather wasted all that was left to the once brillianthouse with Mlle. Laguerre, whom he first discovered, and brought intofashion before Bouret's time. Charles Edward's own father was anofficer without any fortune in 1789. The Revolution came to hisassistance; he had the sense to drop his title, and became plainRusticoli. Among other deeds, M. Rusticoli married a wife during thewar in Italy, a Capponi, a goddaughter of the Countess of Albany(hence La Palferine's final names). Rusticoli was one of the bestcolonels in the army. The Emperor made him a commander of the Legionof Honor and a count. His spine was slightly curved, and his son waswont to say of him laughingly that he was _un comte refait(contrefait)_. "General Count Rusticoli, for he became a brigadier-general atRatisbon and a general of the division on the field of Wagram, died atVienna almost immediately after his promotion, or his name and abilitywould sooner or later have brought him the marshal's baton. Under theRestoration he would certainly have repaired the fortunes of a greatand noble family so brilliant even as far back as 1100, centuriesbefore they took the French title--for the Rusticoli had given a popeto the church and twice revolutionized the kingdom of Naples--soillustrious again under the Valois; so dexterous in the days of theFronde, that obstinate Frondeurs though they were, they still existedthrough the reign of Louis XIV. Mazarin favored them; there was theTuscan strain in them still, and he recognized it. "Today, when Charles Edward de la Palferine's name is mentioned, notthree persons in a hundred know the history of his house. But theBourbons have actually left a Foix-Grailly to live by his easel. "Ah, if you but knew how brilliantly Charles Edward accepts hisobscure position! how he scoffs at the bourgeois of 1830! What Atticsalt in his wit! He would be the king of Bohemia, if Bohemia wouldendure a king. His _verve_ is inexhaustible. To him we owe a map ofthe country and the names of the seven castles which Nodier could notdiscover. " "The one thing wanting in one of the cleverest skits of our time, "said the Marquise. "You can form your own opinion of La Palferine from a fewcharacteristic touches, " continued Nathan. "He once came upon a friendof his, a fellow-Bohemian, involved in a dispute on the boulevard witha bourgeois who chose to consider himself affronted. To the modernpowers that be, Bohemia is insolent in the extreme. There was talk ofcalling one another out. "'One moment, ' interposed La Palferine, as much Lauzun for theoccasion as Lauzun himself could have been. 'One moment. Monsieur wasborn, I suppose?' "'What, sir?' "'Yes, are you born? What is your name?' "'Godin. ' "'Godin, eh!' exclaimed La Palferine's friend. "'One moment, my dear fellow, ' interrupted La Palferine. 'There arethe Trigaudins. Are you one of them?' "Astonishment. "'No? Then you are one of the new dukes of Gaeta, I suppose, ofimperial creation? No? Oh, well, how can you expect my friend to crossswords with you when he will be secretary of an embassy and ambassador_some day_, and you will owe him respect? _Godin!_ the thing isnon-existent! You are a nonentity, Godin. My friend cannot be expectedto beat the air! When one is somebody, one cannot fight with a nobody!Come, my dear fellow--good-day. ' "'My respects to madame, ' added the friend. "Another day La Palferine was walking with a friend who flung hiscigar end in the face of a passer-by. The recipient had the bad tasteto resent this. "'You have stood your antagonist's fire, ' said the young Count, 'thewitnesses declare that honor is satisfied. ' "La Palferine owed his tailor a thousand francs, and the man insteadof going himself sent his assistant to ask for the money. Theassistant found the unfortunate debtor up six pairs of stairs at theback of a yard at the further end of the Faubourg du Roule. The roomwas unfurnished save for a bed (such a bed!), a table, and such atable! La Palferine heard the preposterous demand--'A demand which Ishould qualify as illegal, ' he said when he told us the story, 'made, as it was, at seven o'clock in the morning. ' "'Go, ' he answered, with the gesture and attitude of a Mirabeau, 'tell your master in what condition you find me. ' "The assistant apologized and withdrew. La Palferine, seeing the youngman on the landing, rose in the attire celebrated in verse in_Britannicus_ to add, 'Remark the stairs! Pay particular attention tothe stairs; do not forget to tell him about the stairs!' "In every position into which chance has thrown La Palferine, he hasnever failed to rise to the occasion. All that he does is witty andnever in bad taste; always and in everything he displays the genius ofRivarol, the polished subtlety of the old French noble. It was he whotold that delicious anecdote of a friend of Laffitte the banker. Anational fund had been started to give back to Laffitte the mansion inwhich the Revolution of 1830 was brewed, and this friend appeared atthe offices of the fund with, 'Here are five francs, give me a hundredsous change!'--A caricature was made of it. --It was once LaPalferine's misfortune, in judicial style, to make a young girl amother. The girl, not a very simple innocent, confessed all to hermother, a respectable matron, who hurried forthwith to La Palferineand asked what he meant to do. "'Why, madame, ' said he, 'I am neither a surgeon nor a midwife. ' "She collapsed, but three or four years later she returned to thecharge, still persisting in her inquiry, 'What did La Palferine meanto do?' "'Well, madame, ' returned he, 'when the child is seven years old, anage at which a boy ought to pass out of women's hands'--an indicationof entire agreement on the mother's part--'if the child is reallymine'--another gesture of assent--'if there is a striking likeness, ifhe bids fair to be a gentleman, if I can recognize in him my turn ofmind, and more particularly the Rusticoli air; then, oh--ah!'--a newmovement from the matron--'on my word and honor, I will make him acornet of--sugar-plums!' "All this, if you will permit me to make use of the phraseologyemployed by M. Sainte-Beuve for his biographies of obscurities--allthis, I repeat, is the playful and sprightly yet already somewhatdecadent side of a strong race. It smacks rather of the Parc-aux-Cerfsthan of the Hotel de Rambouillet. It is a race of the strong ratherthan of the sweet; I incline to lay a little debauchery to its charge, and more than I should wish in brilliant and generous natures; it isgallantry after the fashion of the Marechal de Richelieu, high spiritsand frolic carried rather too far; perhaps we may see in it the_outrances_ of another age, the Eighteenth Century pushed to extremes;it harks back to the Musketeers; it is an exploit stolen fromChampcenetz; nay, such light-hearted inconstancy takes us back to thefestooned and ornate period of the old court of the Valois. In an ageas moral as the present, we are bound to regard audacity of this kindsternly; still, at the same time that 'cornet of sugar-plums' mayserve to warn young girls of the perils of lingering where fancies, more charming than chastened, come thickly from the first; on the rosyflowery unguarded slopes, where trespasses ripen into errors full ofequivocal effervescence, into too palpitating issues. The anecdoteputs La Palferine's genius before you in all its vivacity andcompleteness. He realizes Pascal's _entre-deux_, he comprehends thewhole scale between tenderness and pitilessness, and, likeEpaminondas, he is equally great in extremes. And not merely so, hisepigram stamps the epoch; the _accoucheur_ is a modern innovation. Allthe refinements of modern civilization are summed up in the phrase. Itis monumental. " "Look here, my dear Nathan, what farrago of nonsense is this?" askedthe Marquise in bewilderment. "Madame la Marquise, " returned Nathan, "you do not know the value ofthese 'precious' phrases; I am talking Sainte-Beuve, the new kind ofFrench. --I resume. Walking one day arm in arm with a friend along theboulevard, he was accosted by a ferocious creditor, who inquired: "'Are you thinking of me, sir?' "'Not the least in the world, ' answered the Count. "Remark the difficulty of the position. Talleyrand, in similarcircumstances, had already replied, 'You are very inquisitive, my dearfellow!' To imitate the inimitable great man was out of the question. --La Palferine, generous as Buckingham, could not bear to be caughtempty-handed. One day when he had nothing to give a little Savoyardchimney-sweeper, he dipped a hand into a barrel of grapes in agrocer's doorway and filled the child's cap from it. The little oneate away at his grapes; the grocer began by laughing, and ended byholding out his hand. "'Oh, fie! monsieur, ' said La Palferine, 'your left hand ought not toknow what my right hand doth. ' "With his adventurous courage, he never refuses any odds, but there iswit in his bravado. In the Passage de l'Opera he chanced to meet a manwho had spoken slightingly of him, elbowed him as he passed, and thenturned and jostled him a second time. "'You are very clumsy!' "'On the contrary; I did it on purpose. ' "The young man pulled out his card. La Palferine dropped it. 'It hasbeen carried too long in the pocket. Be good enough to give meanother. ' "On the ground he received a thrust; blood was drawn; his antagonistwished to stop. "'You are wounded, monsieur!' "'I disallow the _botte_, ' said La Palferine, as coolly as if he hadbeen in the fencing-saloon; then as he riposted (sending the pointhome this time), he added, 'There is the right thrust, monsieur!' "His antagonist kept his bed for six months. "This, still following on M. Sainte-Beuve's tracks, recalls the_raffines_, the fine-edged raillery of the best days of the monarchy. In this speech you discern an untrammeled but drifting life; a gaietyof imagination that deserts us when our first youth is past. The primeof the blossom is over, but there remains the dry compact seed withthe germs of life in it, ready against the coming winter. Do you notsee that these things are symptoms of something unsatisfied, of anunrest impossible to analyze, still less to describe, yet notincomprehensible; a something ready to break out if occasion callsinto flying upleaping flame? It is the _accidia_ of the cloister; atrace of sourness, of ferment engendered by the enforced stagnation ofyouthful energies, a vague, obscure melancholy. " "That will do, " said the Marquise; "you are giving me a mental showerbath. " "It is the early afternoon languor. If a man has nothing to do, hewill sooner get into mischief than do nothing at all; this invariablyhappens in France. Youth at present day has two sides to it; thestudious or unappreciated, and the ardent or _passionne_. " "That will do!" repeated Mme. De Rochefide, with an authoritativegesture. "You are setting my nerves on edge. " "To finish my portrait of La Palferine, I hasten to make the plungeinto the gallant regions of his character, or you will not understandthe peculiar genius of an admirable representative of a certainsection of mischievous youth--youth strong enough, be it said, tolaugh at the position in which it is put by those in power; shrewdenough to do no work, since work profiteth nothing; yet so full oflife that it fastens upon pleasure--the one thing that cannot be takenaway. And meanwhile a bourgeois, mercantile, and bigoted policycontinues to cut off all the sluices through which so much aptitudeand ability would find an outlet. Poets and men of science are notwanted. "To give you an idea of the stupidity of the new court, I will tellyou of something which happened to La Palferine. There is a sort ofrelieving officer on the civil list. This functionary one daydiscovered that La Palferine was in dire distress, drew up a report, no doubt, and brought the descendant of the Rusticolis fifty francs byway of alms. La Palferine received the visitor with perfect courtesy, and talked of various persons at court. "'Is it true, ' he asked, 'that Mlle. D'Orleans contributes such andsuch a sum to this benevolent scheme started by her nephew? If so, itis very gracious of her. ' "Now La Palferine had a servant, a little Savoyard, aged ten, whowaited on him without wages. La Palferine called him Father Anchises, and used to say, 'I have never seen such a mixture of besottedfoolishness with great intelligence; he would go through fire andwater for me; he understands everything--and yet he cannot grasp thefact that I can do nothing for him. ' "Anchises was despatched to a livery stable with instructions to hirea handsome brougham with a man in livery behind it. By the time thecarriage arrived below, La Palferine had skilfully piloted theconversation to the subject of the functions of his visitor, whom hehas since called 'the unmitigated misery man, ' and learned the natureof his duties and his stipend. "'Do they allow you a carriage to go about the town in this way?' "'Oh! no. ' "At that La Palferine and a friend who happened to be with him wentdownstairs with the poor soul, and insisted on putting him into thecarriage. It was raining in torrents. La Palferine had thought ofeverything. He offered to drive the official to the next house on hislist; and when the almoner came down again, he found the carriagewaiting for him at the door. The man in livery handed him a notewritten in pencil: "'The carriage has been engaged for three days. Count Rusticoli de la Palferine is too happy to associate himself with Court charities by lending wings to Royal beneficence. ' "La Palferine now calls the civil list the uncivil list. "He was once passionately loved by a lady of somewhat light conduct. Antonia lived in the Rue du Helder; she had seen and been seen to someextent, but at the time of her acquaintance with La Palferine she hadnot yet 'an establishment. ' Antonia was not wanting in the insolenceof old days, now degenerating into rudeness among women of her class. After a fortnight of unmixed bliss, she was compelled, in the interestof her civil list, to return to a less exclusive system; and LaPalferine, discovering a certain lack of sincerity in her dealingswith him, sent Madame Antonia a note which made her famous. "'MADAME, --Your conduct causes me much surprise and no less distress. Not content with rending my heart with your disdain, you have been so little thoughtful as to retain a toothbrush, which my means will not permit me to replace, my estates being mortgaged beyond their value. "'Adieu, too fair and too ungrateful friend! May we meet again in a better world. "'CHARLES EDWARD. ' "Assuredly (to avail ourselves yet further of Sainte-Beuve'sBabylonish dialect), this far outpasses the raillery of Sterne's_Sentimental Journey_; it might be Scarron without his grossness. Nay, I do not know but that Moliere in his lighter mood would not have saidof it, as of Cyrano de Bergerac's best--'This is mine. ' Richelieuhimself was not more complete when he wrote to the princess waitingfor him in the Palais Royal--'Stay there, my queen, to charm thescullion lads. ' At the same time, Charles Edward's humor is lessbiting. I am not sure that this kind of wit was known among the Greeksand Romans. Plato, possibly, upon a closer inspection approaches it, but from the austere and musical side--" "No more of that jargon, " the Marquise broke in, "in print it may beendurable; but to have it grating upon my ears is a punishment which Ido not in the least deserve. " "He first met Claudine on this wise, " continued Nathan. "It was one ofthe unfilled days, when Youth is a burden to itself; days when youth, reduced by the overweening presumption of Age to a condition ofpotential energy and dejection, emerges therefrom (like Blondet underthe Restoration), either to get into mischief or to set about somecolossal piece of buffoonery, half excused by the very audacity of itsconception. La Palferine was sauntering, cane in hand, up and down thepavement between the Rue de Grammont and the Rue de Richelieu, when inthe distance he descried a woman too elegantly dressed, covered, as hephrased it, with a great deal of portable property, too expensive andtoo carelessly worn for its owner to be other than a princess of thecourt or of the stage, it was not easy at first to say which. Butafter July 1830, in his opinion, there is no mistaking the indications--the princess can only be a princess of the stage. "The Count came up and walked by her side as if she had given him anassignation. He followed her with a courteous persistence, apersistence in good taste, giving the lady from time to time, andalways at the right moment, an authoritative glance, which compelledher to submit to his escort. Anybody but La Palferine would have beenfrozen by his reception, and disconcerted by the lady's first effortsto rid herself of her cavalier, by her chilly air, her curt speeches;but no gravity, with all the will in the world, could hold out longagainst La Palferine's jesting replies. The fair stranger went intoher milliner's shop. Charles Edward followed, took a seat, and gavehis opinions and advice like a man that meant to pay. This coolnessdisturbed the lady. She went out. "On the stairs she spoke to her persecutor. "'Monsieur, I am about to call upon one of my husband's relatives, anelderly lady, Mme. De Bonfalot--' "'Ah! Mme. De Bonfalot, charmed, I am sure. I am going there. ' "The pair accordingly went. Charles Edward came in with the lady, every one believed that she had brought him with her. He took part inthe conversation, was lavish of his polished and brilliant wit. Thevisit lengthened out. That was not what he wanted. "'Madame, ' he said, addressing the fair stranger, 'do not forget thatyour husband is waiting for us, and only allowed us a quarter of anhour. ' "Taken aback by such boldness (which, as you know, is neverdispleasing to you women), led captive by the conqueror's glance, bythe astute yet candid air which Charles Edward can assume when hechooses, the lady rose, took the arm of her self-constituted escort, and went downstairs, but on the threshold she stopped to speak to him. "'Monsieur, I like a joke----' "'And so do I. ' "She laughed. "'But this may turn to earnest, ' he added; 'it only rests with you. Iam the Comte de la Palferine, and I am delighted that it is in mypower to lay my heart and my fortune at your feet. ' "La Palferine was at that time twenty-two years old. (This happened in1834. ) Luckily for him, he was fashionably dressed. I can paint hisportrait for you in a few words. He was the living image of LouisXIII. , with the same white forehead and gracious outline of thetemples, the same olive skin (that Italian olive tint which turnswhite where the light falls on it), the brown hair worn rather long, the black 'royale, ' the grave and melancholy expression, for LaPalferine's character and exterior were amazingly at variance. "At the sound of the name, and the sight of its owner, something likea quiver thrilled through Claudine. La Palferine saw the vibration, and shot a glance at her out of the dark depths of almond-shaped eyeswith purpled lids, and those faint lines about them which tell ofpleasures as costly as painful fatigue. With those eyes upon her, shesaid--'Your address?' "'What want of address!' "'Oh, pshaw!' she said, smiling. 'A bird on the bough?' "'Good-bye, madame, you are such a woman as I seek, but my fortune isfar from equaling my desire----' "He bowed, and there and then left her. Two days later, by one of thestrange chances that can only happen in Paris, he had betaken himselfto a money-lending wardrobe dealer to sell such of his clothing as hecould spare. He was just receiving the price with an uneasy air, afterlong chaffering, when the stranger lady passed and recognized him. "'Once for all, ' cried he to the bewildered wardrobe dealer, 'I tellyou I am not going to take your trumpet!' "He pointed to a huge, much-dinted musical instrument, hanging upoutside against a background of uniforms, civil and military. Then, proudly and impetuously, he followed the lady. "From that great day of the trumpet these two understood one anotherto admiration. Charles Edward's ideas on the subject of love are assound as possible. According to him, a man cannot love twice, there isbut one love in his lifetime, but that love is a deep and shorelesssea. It may break in upon him at any time, as the grace of God foundSt. Paul; and a man may live sixty years and never know love. Perhaps, to quote Heine's superb phrase, it is 'the secret malady of the heart'--a sense of the Infinite that there is within us, together with therevelation of the ideal Beauty in its visible form. This love, inshort, comprehends both the creature and creation. But so long asthere is no question of this great poetical conception, the loves thatcannot last can only be taken lightly, as if they were in a mannersnatches of song compared with Love the epic. "To Charles Edward the adventure brought neither the thunderboltsignal of love's coming, nor yet that gradual revelation of an inwardfairness which draws two natures by degrees more and more stronglyeach to each. For there are but two ways of love--love at first sight, doubtless akin to the Highland 'second-sight, ' and that slow fusion oftwo natures which realizes Plato's 'man-woman. ' But if Charles Edwarddid not love, he was loved to distraction. Claudine found love madecomplete, body and soul; in her, in short, La Palferine awakened theone passion of her life; while for him Claudine was only a mostcharming mistress. The Devil himself, a most potent magiciancertainly, with all hell at his back, could never have changed thenatures of these two unequal fires. I dare affirm that Claudine notunfrequently bored Charles Edward. "'Stale fish and the woman you do not love are only fit to fling outof the window after three days, ' he used to say. "In Bohemia there is little secrecy observed over these affairs. LaPalferine used to talk a good deal of Claudine; but, at the same time, none of us saw her, nor so much as knew her name. For us Claudine wasalmost a mythical personage. All of us acted in the same way, reconciling the requirements of our common life with the rules of goodtaste. Claudine, Hortense, the Baroness, the Bourgeoise, the Empress, the Spaniard, the Lioness, --these were cryptic titles which permittedus to pour out our joys, our cares, vexations, and hopes, and tocommunicate our discoveries. Further, none of us went. It has beenshown, in Bohemia, that chance discovered the identity of the fairunknown; and at once, as by tacit convention, not one of us spoke ofher again. This fact may show how far youth possesses a sense of truedelicacy. How admirably certain natures of a finer clay know the limitline where jest must end, and all that host of things French coveredby the slang word _blague_, a word which will shortly be cast out ofthe language (let us hope), and yet it is the only one which conveysan idea of the spirit of Bohemia. "So we often used to joke about Claudine and the Count--'_ToujoursClaudine?_' sung to the air of _Toujours Gessle_. --'What are youmaking of Claudine?'--'How is Claudine?' "'I wish you all such a mistress, for all the harm I wish you, ' LaPalferine began one day. 'No greyhound, no basset-dog, no poodle canmatch her in gentleness, submissiveness, and complete tenderness. There are times when I reproach myself, when I take myself to task formy hard heart. Claudine obeys with saintly sweetness. She comes to me, I tell her to go, she goes, she does not even cry till she is out inthe courtyard. I refuse to see her for a whole week at a time. I tellher to come at such an hour on Tuesday; and be it midnight or sixo'clock in the morning, ten o'clock, five o'clock, breakfast time, dinner time, bed time, any particularly inconvenient hour in the day--she will come, punctual to the minute, beautiful, beautifully dressed, and enchanting. And she is a married woman, with all the complicationsand duties of a household. The fibs that she must invent, the reasonsshe must find for conforming to my whims would tax the ingenuity ofsome of us! . . . Claudine never wearies; you can always count uponher. It is not love, I tell her, it is infatuation. She writes to meevery day; I do not read her letters; she found that out, but stillshe writes. See here; there are two hundred letters in this casket. She begs me to wipe my razors on one of her letters every day, and Ipunctually do so. She thinks, and rightly, that the sight of herhandwriting will put me in mind of her. ' "La Palferine was dressing as he told us this. I took up the letterwhich he was about to put to this use, read it, and kept it, as he didnot ask to have it back. Here it is. I looked for it, and found it asI promised. "_Monday (Midnight). _ "'Well, my dear, are you satisfied with me? I did not even ask for your hand, yet you might easily have given it to me, and I longed so much to hold it to my heart, to my lips. No, I did not ask, I am so afraid of displeasing you. Do you know one thing? Though I am cruelly sure that anything I do is a matter of perfect indifference to you, I am none the less extremely timid in my conduct: the woman that belongs to you, whatever her title to call herself yours, must not incur so much as the shadow of blame. In so far as love comes from the angels in heaven, from whom are no secrets hid, my love is as pure as the purest; wherever I am I feel that I am in your presence, and I try to do you honor. "'All that you said about my manner of dress impressed me very much; I began to understand how far above others are those that come of a noble race. There was still something of the opera girl in my gowns, in my way of dressing my hair. In a moment I saw the distance between me and good taste. Next time you will receive a duchess, you shall not know me again! Ah! how good you have been to your Claudine! How many and many a time I have thanked you for telling me those things! What interest lay in those few words! You have taken thought for that thing belonging to you called Claudine? _This_ imbecile would never have opened my eyes; he thinks that everything I do is right; and besides, he is much too humdrum, too matter-of-fact to have any feeling for the beautiful. "'Tuesday is very slow of coming for my impatient mind! On Tuesday I shall be with you for several hours. Ah! when it comes I will try to think that the hours are months, that it will be so always. I am living in hope of that morning now, as I shall live upon the memory of it afterwards. Hope is memory that craves; and recollection, memory sated. What a beautiful life within life thought makes for us in this way! "'Sometimes I dream of inventing new ways of tenderness all my own, a secret which no other woman shall guess. A cold sweat breaks out over me at the thought that something may happen to prevent this morning. Oh, I would break with _him_ for good, if need was, but nothing here could possibly interfere; it would be from your side. Perhaps you may decide to go out, perhaps to go to see some other woman. Oh! spare me this Tuesday for pity's sake. If you take it from me, Charles, you do not know what _he_ will suffer; I should drive him wild. But even if you do not want me, or you are going out, let me come, all the same, to be with you while you dress; only to see you, I ask no more than that; only to show you that I love you without a thought of self. "'Since you gave me leave to love you, for you gave me leave, since I am yours; since that day I loved and love you with the whole strength of my soul; and I shall love you for ever, for once having loved _you_, no one could, no one ought to love another. And, you see, when those eyes that ask nothing but to see you are upon you, you will feel that in your Claudine there is a something divine, called into existence by you. "'Alas! with you I can never play the coquette. I am like a mother with her child; I endure anything from you; I, that was once so imperious and proud. I have made dukes and princes fetch and carry for me; aides-de-camp, worth more than all the court of Charles X. Put together, have done my errands, yet I am treating you as my spoilt child. But where is the use of coquetry? It would be pure waste. And yet, monsieur, for want of coquetry I shall never inspire love in you. I know it; I feel it; yet I do as before, feeling a power that I cannot withstand, thinking that this utter self-surrender will win me the sentiment innate in all men (so _he_ tells me) for the thing that belongs to them. "_Wednesday_. "'Ah! how darkly sadness entered my heart yesterday when I found that I must give up the joy of seeing you. One single thought held me back from the arms of Death!--It was thy will! To stay away was to do thy will, to obey an order from thee. Oh! Charles, I was so pretty; I looked a lovelier woman for you than that beautiful German princess whom you gave me for an example, whom I have studied at the Opera. And yet--you might have thought that I had overstepped the limits of my nature. You have left me no confidence in myself; perhaps I am plain after all. Oh! I loathe myself, I dream of my radiant Charles Edward, and my brain turns. I shall go mad, I know I shall. Do not laugh, do not talk to me of the fickleness of women. If we are inconstant, _you_ are strangely capricious. You take away the hours of love that made a poor creature's happiness for ten whole days; the hours on which she drew to be charming and kind to all that came to see her! After all, you were the source of my kindness to _him_; you do not know what pain you give him. I wonder what I must do to keep you, or simply to keep the right to be yours sometimes. . . . When I think that you never would come here to me! . . . With what delicious emotion I would wait upon you!--There are other women more favored than I. There are women to whom you say, 'I love you. ' To me you have never said more than 'You are a good girl. ' Certain speeches of yours, though you do not know it, gnaw at my heart. Clever men sometimes ask me what I am thinking. . . . I am thinking of my self-abasement--the prostration of the poorest outcast in the presence of the Saviour. "There are still three more pages, you see. La Palferine allowed me totake the letter, with the traces of tears that still seemed hot uponit! Here was proof of the truth of his story. Marcas, a shy man enoughwith women, was in ecstacies over a second which he read in his cornerbefore lighting his pipe with it. "'Why, any woman in love will write that sort of thing!' cried LaPalferine. 'Love gives all women intelligence and style, which provesthat here in France style proceeds from the matter and not from thewords. See now how well this is thought out, how clear-headedsentiment is'--and with that he reads us another letter, far superiorto the artificial and labored productions which we novelists write. "One day poor Claudine heard that La Palferine was in a criticalposition; it was a question of meeting a bill of exchange. An unluckyidea occurred to her; she put a tolerably large sum in gold into anexquisitely embroidered purse and went to him. "'Who has taught you as to be so bold as to meddle with my householdaffairs?' La Palferine cried angrily. 'Mend my socks and work slippersfor me, if it amuses you. So!--you will play the duchess, and you turnthe story of Danae against the aristocracy. ' "He emptied the purse into his hand as he spoke, and made as though hewould fling the money in her face. Claudine, in her terror, did notguess that he was joking; she shrank back, stumbled over a chair, andfell with her head against the corner of the marble chimney-piece. Shethought she should have died. When she could speak, poor woman, as shelay on the bed, all that she said was, 'I deserved it, Charles!' "For a moment La Palferine was in despair; his anguish revivedClaudine. She rejoiced in the mishap; she took advantage of hersuffering to compel La Palferine to take the money and release himfrom an awkward position. Then followed a variation on La Fontaine'sfable, in which a man blesses the thieves that brought him a suddenimpulse of tenderness from his wife. And while we are upon thissubject, another saying will paint the man for you. "Claudine went home again, made up some kind of tale as best she couldto account for her bruised forehead, and fell dangerously ill. Anabscess formed in the head. The doctor--Bianchon, I believe--yes, itwas Bianchon--wanted to cut off her hair. The Duchesse de Berri's hairis not more beautiful than Claudine's; she would not hear of it, shetold Bianchon in confidence that she could not allow it to be cutwithout leave from the Comte de Palferine. Bianchon went to CharlesEdward. Charles Edward heard him with much seriousness. The doctor hadexplained the case at length, and showed that it was absolutelynecessary to sacrifice the hair to insure the success of theoperation. "'Cut off Claudine's hair!' cried he in peremptory tones. 'No. Iwould sooner lose her. ' "Even now, after a lapse of four years, Bianchon still quotes thatspeech; we have laughed over it for half an hour together. Claudine, informed of the verdict, saw in it a proof of affections; she feltsure that she was loved. In the face of her weeping family, with herhusband on his knees, she was inexorable. She kept the hair. Thestrength that came with the belief that she was loved came to her aid, the operation succeeded perfectly. There are stirrings of the innerlife which throw all the calculations of surgery into disorder andbaffle the laws of medical science. "Claudine wrote a delicious letter to La Palferine, a letter in whichthe orthography was doubtful and the punctuation all to seek, to tellhim of the happy result of the operation, and to add that Love waswiser than all the sciences. "'Now, ' said La Palferine one day, 'what am I to do to get rid ofClaudine?' "'Why, she is not at all troublesome; she leaves you master of youractions, ' objected we. "'That is true, ' returned La Palferine, 'but I do not choose thatanything shall slip into my life without my consent. ' "From that day he set himself to torment Claudine. It seemed that heheld the bourgeoise, the nobody, in utter horror; nothing wouldsatisfy him but a woman with a title. Claudine, it was true, had madeprogress; she had learned to dress as well as the best-dressed womanof the Faubourg Saint-Germain; she had freed her bearing of theunhallowed traces; she walked with a chastened, inimitable grace; butthis was not enough. This praise of her enabled Claudine to swallowdown the rest. "But one day La Palferine said, 'If you wish to be the mistress of oneLa Palferine, poor, penniless, and without prospects as he is, youought at least to represent him worthily. You should have a carriageand liveried servants and a title. Give me all the gratifications ofvanity that will never be mine in my own person. The woman whom Ihonor with my regard ought never to go on foot; if she is bespatteredwith mud, I suffer. That is how I am made. If she is mine, she must beadmired of all Paris. All Paris shall envy me my good fortune. If somelittle whipper-snapper seeing a brilliant countess pass in herbrilliant carriage shall say to himself, "Who can call such a divinityhis?" and grow thoughtful--why, it will double my pleasure. ' "La Palferine owned to us that he flung this programme at Claudine'shead simply to rid himself of her. As a result he was stupefied withastonishment for the first and probably the only time in his life. "'Dear, ' she said, and there was a ring in her voice that betrayedthe great agitation which shook her whole being, 'it is well. All thisshall be done, or I will die. ' "She let fall a few happy tears on his hand as she kissed it. "'You have told me what I must do to be your mistress still, ' sheadded; 'I am glad. ' "'And then' (La Palferine told us) 'she went out with a littlecoquettish gesture like a woman that has had her way. As she stood inmy garrett doorway, tall and proud, she seemed to reach the stature ofan antique sibyl. ' "All this should sufficiently explain the manners and customs of theBohemia in which the young _condottiere_ is one of the most brilliantfigures, " Nathan continued after a pause. "Now it so happened that Idiscovered Claudine's identity, and could understand the appallingtruth of one line which you perhaps overlooked in that letter of hers. It was on this wise. " The Marquise, too thoughtful now for laughter, bade Nathan "Go on, " ina tone that told him plainly how deeply she had been impressed bythese strange things, and even more plainly how much she wasinterested in La Palferine. "In 1829, one of the most influential, steady, and clever of dramaticwriters was du Bruel. His real name is unknown to the public, on theplay-bills he is de Cursy. Under the Restoration he had a place in theCivil Service; and being really attached to the elder branch, he sentin his resignation bravely in 1830, and ever since has written twiceas many plays to fill the deficit in his budget made by his nobleconduct. At that time du Bruel was forty years old; you know the storyof his life. Like many of his brethren, he bore a stage dancer anaffection hard to explain, but well known in the whole world ofletters. The woman, as you know, was Tullia, one of the _premierssujets_ of the Academie Royale de Musique. Tullia is merely apseudonym like du Bruel's name of de Cursy. "For the ten years between 1817 and 1827 Tullia was in her glory onthe heights of the stage of the Opera. With more beauty thaneducation, a mediocre dancer with rather more sense than most of herclass, she took no part in the virtuous reforms which ruined the corpsde ballet; she continued the Guimard dynasty. She owed her ascendency, moreover, to various well-known protectors, to the Duc de Rhetore (theDue de Chaulieu's eldest son), to the influence of a famousSuperintendent of Fine Arts, and sundry diplomatists and richforeigners. During her apogee she had a neat little house in the RueChauchat, and lived as Opera nymphs used to live in the old days. DuBruel was smitten with her about the time when the Duke's fancy cameto an end in 1823. Being a mere subordinate in the Civil Service, duBruel tolerated the Superintendent of Fine Arts, believing that hehimself was really preferred. After six years this connection wasalmost a marriage. Tullia has always been very careful to say nothingof her family; we have a vague idea that she comes from Nanterre. Oneof her uncles, formerly a simple bricklayer or carpenter, is now, itis said, a very rich contractor, thanks to her influence and generousloans. This fact leaked out through du Bruel. He happened to say thatTullia would inherit a fine fortune sooner or later. The contractorwas a bachelor; he had a weakness for the niece to whom he isindebted. "'He is not clever enough to be ungrateful, ' said she. "In 1829 Tullia retired from the stage of her own accord. At the ageof thirty she saw that she was growing somewhat stouter, and she hadtried pantomime without success. Her whole art consisted in the trickof raising her skirts, after Noblet's manner, in a pirouette whichinflated them balloon-fashion and exhibited the smallest possiblequantity of clothing to the pit. The aged Vestris had told her at thevery beginning that this _temps_, well executed by a fine woman, isworth all the art imaginable. It is the chest-note C of dancing. Forwhich reason, he said, the very greatest dancers--Camargo, Guimard, and Taglioni, all of them thin, brown, and plain--could only redeemtheir physical defects by their genius. Tullia, still in the height ofher glory, retired before younger and cleverer dancers; she didwisely. She was an aristocrat; she had scarcely stooped below thenoblesse in her _liaisons_; she declined to dip her ankles in thetroubled waters of July. Insolent and beautiful as she was, Claudinepossessed handsome souvenirs, but very little ready money; still, herjewels were magnificent, and she had as fine furniture as any one inParis. "On quitting the stage when she, forgotten to-day, was yet in theheight of her fame, one thought possessed her--she meant du Bruel tomarry her; and at the time of this story, you must understand that themarriage had taken place, but was kept a secret. How do women of herclass contrive to make a man marry them after seven or eight years ofintimacy? What springs do they touch? What machinery do they set inmotion? But, however comical such domestic dramas may be, we are notnow concerned with them. Du Bruel was secretly married; the thing wasdone. "Cursy before his marriage was supposed to be a jolly companion; nowand again he stayed out all night, and to some extent led the life ofa Bohemian; he would unbend at a supper-party. He went out to allappearance to a rehearsal at the Opera-Comique, and found himself insome unaccountable way at Dieppe, or Baden, or Saint-Germain; he gavedinners, led the Titanic thriftless life of artists, journalists, andwriters; levied his tribute on all the greenrooms of Paris; and, inshort, was one of us. Finot, Lousteau, du Tillet, Desroches, Bixiou, Blondet, Couture, and des Lupeaulx tolerated him in spite of hispedantic manner and ponderous official attitude. But once married, Tullia made a slave of du Bruel. There was no help for it. He was inlove with Tullia, poor devil. "'Tullia' (so he said) 'had left the stage to be his alone, to be agood and charming wife. ' And somehow Tullia managed to induce the mostPuritanical members of du Bruel's family to accept her. From the veryfirst, before any one suspected her motives, she assiduously visitedold Mme. De Bonfalot, who bored her horribly; she made handsomepresents to mean old Mme. De Chisse, du Bruel's great-aunt; she spenta summer with the latter lady, and never missed a single mass. Sheeven went to confession, received absolution, and took the sacrament;but this, you must remember, was in the country, and under the aunt'seyes. "'I shall have real aunts now, do you understand?' she said to uswhen she came back in the winter. "She was so delighted with her respectability, so glad to renounce herindependence, that she found means to compass her end. She flatteredthe old people. She went on foot every day to sit for a couple ofhours with Mme. Du Bruel the elder while that lady was ill--aMaintenon's stratagem which amazed du Bruel. And he admired his wifewithout criticism; he was so fast in the toils already that he did notfeel his bonds. "Claudine succeeded in making him understand that only under theelastic system of a bourgeois government, only at the bourgeois courtof the Citizen-King, could a Tullia, now metamorphosed into a Mme. DuBruel, be accepted in the society which her good sense prevented herfrom attempting to enter. Mme. De Bonfalot, Mme. De Chisse, and Mme. Du Bruel received her; she was satisfied. She took up the position ofa well-conducted, simple, and virtuous woman, and never acted out ofcharacter. In three years' time she was introduced to the friends ofthese ladies. "'And still I cannot persuade myself that young Mme. Du Bruel used todisplay her ankles, and the rest, to all Paris, with the light of ahundred gas-jets pouring upon her, ' Mme. Anselme Popinot remarkednaively. "From this point of view, July 1830 inaugurated an era not unlike thetime of the Empire, when a waiting woman was received at Court in theperson of Mme. Garat, a chief-justice's 'lady. ' Tullia had completelybroken, as you may guess, with all her old associates; of her formeracquaintances, she only recognized those who could not compromise her. At the time of her marriage she had taken a very charming little hotelbetween a court and a garden, lavishing money on it with wildextravagance and putting the best part of her furniture and du Bruel'sinto it. Everything that she thought common or ordinary was sold. Tofind anything comparable to her sparkling splendor, you could onlylook back to the days when Sophie Arnould, a Guimard, or a Duthe, inall her glory, squandered the fortunes of princes. "How far did this sumptuous existence affect du Bruel? It is adelicate question to ask, and a still more delicate one to answer. Asingle incident will suffice to give you an idea of Tullia'scrotchets. Her bed-spread of Brussels lace was worth ten thousandfrancs. A famous actress had another like it. As soon as Claudineheard this, she allowed her cat, a splendid Angora, to sleep on thebed. That trait gives you the woman. Du Bruel dared not say a word; hewas ordered to spread abroad that challenge in luxury, so that itmight reach the other. Tullia was very fond of this gift from the Ducde Rhetore; but one day, five years after her marriage, she playedwith her cat to such purpose that the coverlet--furbelows, flounces, and all--was torn to shreds, and replaced by a sensible quilt, a quiltthat was a quilt, and not a symptom of the peculiar form of insanitywhich drives these women to make up by an insensate luxury for thechildish days when they lived on raw apples, to quote the expressionof a journalist. The day when the bed-spread was torn to tattersmarked a new epoch in her married life. "Cursy was remarkable for his ferocious industry. Nobody suspects thesource to which Paris owes the patch-and-powder eighteenth centuryvaudevilles that flooded the stage. Those thousand-and-onevaudevilles, which raised such an outcry among the _feuilletonistes_, were written at Mme. Du Bruel's express desire. She insisted that herhusband should purchase the hotel on which she had spent so much, where she had housed five hundred thousand francs' worth of furniture. Wherefore Tullia never enters into explanations; she understands thesovereign woman's reason to admiration. "'People made a good deal of fun of Cursy, ' said she; 'but, as amatter of fact, he found this house in the eighteenth centuryrouge-box, powder, puffs, and spangles. He would never have thoughtof it but for me, ' she added, burying herself in the cushions in herfireside corner. "She delivered herself thus on her return from a first night. DuBruel's piece had succeeded, and she foresaw an avalanche ofcriticisms. Tullia had her At Homes. Every Monday she gave atea-party; her society was as select as might be, and she neglectednothing that could make her house pleasant. There was a bouillotte inone room, conversation in another, and sometimes a concert (alwaysshort) in the large drawing-room. None but the most eminent artistsperformed in the house. Tullia had so much good sense, that sheattained to the most exquisite tact, and herein, in all probability, lay the secret of her ascendency over du Bruel; at any rate, he lovedher with the love which use and wont at length makes indispensable tolife. Every day adds another thread to the strong, irresistible, intangible web, which enmeshes the most delicate fancies, takescaptive every most transient mood, and binding them together, holds aman captive hand and foot, heart and head. "Tullia knew Cursy well; she knew every weak point in his armor, knewalso how to heal his wounds. "A passion of this kind is inscrutable for any observer, even for aman who prides himself, as I do, on a certain expertness. It iseverywhere unfathomable; the dark depths in it are darker than in anyother mystery; the colors confused even in the highest lights. "Cursy was an old playwright, jaded by the life of the theatricalworld. He liked comfort; he liked a luxurious, affluent, easyexistence; he enjoyed being a king in his own house; he liked to behost to a party of men of letters in a hotel resplendent with royalluxury, with carefully chosen works of art shining in the setting. Tullia allowed du Bruel to enthrone himself amid the tribe; there wereplenty of journalists whom it was easy enough to catch and ensnare;and, thanks to her evening parties and a well-timed loan here andthere, Cursy was not attacked too seriously--his plays succeeded. Forthese reasons he would not have separated from Tullia for an empire. If she had been unfaithful, he would probably have passed it over, oncondition that none of his accustomed joys should be retrenched; yet, strange to say, Tullia caused him no twinges on this account. No fancywas laid to her charge; if there had been any, she certainly had beenvery careful of appearances. "'My dear fellow, ' du Bruel would say, laying down the law to us onthe boulevard, 'there is nothing like one of these women who have sowntheir wild oats and got over their passions. Such women as Claudinehave lived their bachelor life; they have been over head and ears inpleasure, and make the most adorable wives that could be wished; theyhave nothing to learn, they are formed, they are not in the leastprudish; they are well broken in, and indulgent. So I stronglyrecommend everybody to take the "remains of a racer. " I am the mostfortunate man on earth. ' "Du Bruel said this to me himself with Bixiou there to hear it. "'My dear fellow, ' said the caricaturist, 'perhaps he is right to bein the wrong. ' "About a week afterwards, du Bruel asked us to dine with him oneTuesday. That morning I went to see him on a piece of theatricalbusiness, a case submitted to us for arbitration by the commission ofdramatic authors. We were obliged to go out again; but before westarted he went to Claudine's room, knocked, as he always does, andasked for leave to enter. "'We live in grand style, ' said he, smiling; 'we are free. Each isindependent. ' "We were admitted. Du Bruel spoke to Claudine. 'I have asked a fewpeople to dinner to-day--" "'Just like you!' cried she. 'You ask people without speaking to me;I count for nothing here. --Now' (taking me as arbitrator by a glance)'I ask you yourself. When a man has been so foolish as to live with awoman of my sort; for, after all, I was an opera dancer--yes, I oughtalways to remember that, if other people are to forget it--well, underthose circumstances, a clever man seeking to raise his wife in publicopinion would do his best to impose her upon the world as a remarkablewoman, to justify the step he had taken by acknowledging that in someways she was something more than ordinary women. The best way ofcompelling respect from others is to pay respect to her at home, andto leave her absolute mistress of the house. Well, and yet it isenough to awaken one's vanity to see how frightened he is of seemingto listen to me. I must be in the right ten times over if he concedesa single point. ' "(Emphatic negative gestures from du Bruel at every other word. ) "'Oh, yes, yes, ' she continued quickly, in answer to this mutedissent. 'I know all about it, du Bruel, my dear, I that have beenlike a queen in my house all my life till I married you. My wisheswere guessed, fulfilled, and more than fulfilled. After all, I amthirty-five, and at five-and-thirty a woman cannot expect to be loved. Ah, if I were a girl of sixteen, if I had not lost something that isdearly bought at the Opera, what attention you would pay me, M. DuBruel! I feel the most supreme contempt for men who boast that theycan love and grow careless and neglectful in little things as timegrows on. You are short and insignificant, you see, du Bruel; you loveto torment a woman; it is your only way of showing your strength. ANapoleon is ready to be swayed by the woman he loves; he loses nothingby it; but as for such as you, you believe that you are nothingapparently, you do not wish to be ruled. --Five-and-thirty, my dearboy, ' she continued, turning to me, 'that is the clue to the riddle. --"No, " does he say again?--You know quite well that I am thirty-seven. I am very sorry, but just ask your friends to dine at the _Rocher deCancale_. I _could_ have them here, but I will not; they shall notcome. And then perhaps my poor little monologue may engrave thatsalutary maxim, "Each is master at home, " upon your memory. That isour character, ' she added, laughing, with a return of the opera girl'sgiddiness and caprice. "'Well, well, my dear little puss; there, there, never mind. We canmanage to get on together, ' said du Bruel, and he kissed her hands, and we came away. But he was very wroth. "The whole way from the Rue de la Victoire to the boulevard a perfecttorrent of venomous words poured from his mouth like a waterfall inflood; but as the shocking language which he used on occasion wasquite unfit to print, the report is necessarily inadequate. "'My dear fellow, I will leave that vile, shameless opera dancer, aworn-out jade that has been set spinning like a top to every operaticair; a foul hussy, an organ-grinder's monkey! Oh, my dear boy, youhave taken up with an actress; may the notion of marrying yourmistress never get a hold on you. It is a torment omitted from thehell of Dante, you see. Look here! I will beat her; I will give her athrashing; I will give it to her! Poison of my life, she sent me offlike a running footman. ' "By this time we had reached the boulevard, and he had worked himselfup to such a pitch of fury that the words stuck in his throat. "'I will kick the stuffing out of her!' "'And why?' "'My dear fellow, you will never know the thousand-and-one fanciesthat slut takes into her head. When I want to stay at home, she, forsooth, must go out; when I want to go out, she wants me to stop athome; and she spouts out arguments and accusations and reasoning andtalks and talks till she drives you crazy. Right means any whim thatthey happen to take into their heads, and wrong means our notion. Overwhelm them with something that cuts their arguments to pieces--they hold their tongues and look at you as if you were a dead dog. My happiness indeed! I lead the life of a yard-dog; I am a perfectslave. The little happiness that I have with her costs me dear. Confound it all. I will leave her everything and take myself off to agarret. Yes, a garret and liberty. I have not dared to have my ownway once in these five years. ' "But instead of going to his guests, Cursy strode up and down theboulevard between the Rue de Richelieu and the Rue du Mont Blanc, indulging in the most fearful imprecations, his unbounded language wasmost comical to hear. His paroxysm of fury in the street contrastedoddly with his peaceable demeanor in the house. Exercise assisted himto work off his nervous agitation and inward tempest. About twoo'clock, on a sudden frantic impulse, he exclaimed: "'These damned females never know what they want. I will wager myhead now that if I go home and tell her that I have sent to ask myfriends to dine with me at the _Rocher de Cancale_, she will not besatisfied though she made the arrangement herself. --But she will havegone off somewhere or other. I wonder whether there is something atthe bottom of all this, an assignation with some goat? No. In thebottom of her heart she loves me!'" The Marquise could not help smiling. "Ah, madame, " said Nathan, looking keenly at her, "only women andprophets know how to turn faith to account. --Du Bruel would have me gohome with him, " he continued, "and we went slowly back. It was threeo'clock. Before he appeared, he heard a stir in the kitchen, sawpreparations going forward, and glanced at me as he asked the cook thereason of this. "'Madame ordered dinner, ' said the woman. 'Madame dressed and ordereda cab, and then she changed her mind and ordered it again for thetheatre this evening. ' "'Good, ' exclaimed du Bruel, 'what did I tell you?' "We entered the house stealthily. No one was there. We went from roomto room until we reached a little boudoir, and came upon Tullia intears. She dried her eyes without affectation, and spoke to du Bruel. "'Send a note to the _Rocher de Cancale_, ' she said, 'and ask yourguests to dine here. ' "She was dressed as only women of the theatre can dress, in asimply-made gown of some dainty material, neither too costly nor toocommon, graceful and harmonious in outline and coloring; there wasnothing conspicuous about her, nothing exaggerated--a word nowdropping out of use, to be replaced by the word 'artistic, ' used byfools as current coin. In short, Tullia looked like a gentlewoman. Atthirty-seven she had reached the prime of a Frenchwoman's beauty. Atthis moment the celebrated oval of her face was divinely pale; shehad laid her hat aside; I could see a faint down like the bloom offruit softening the silken contours of a cheek itself so delicate. There was a pathetic charm about her face with its double cluster offair hair; her brilliant gray eyes were veiled by a mist of tears; hernose, delicately carved as a Roman cameo, with its quivering nostrils;her little mouth, like a child's even now; her long queenly throat, with the veins standing out upon it; her chin, flushed for the momentby some secret despair; the pink tips of her ears, the hands thattrembled under her gloves, everything about her told of violentfeeling. The feverish twitching of her eyebrows betrayed her pain. Shelooked sublime. "Her first words had crushed du Bruel. She looked at us both, withthat penetrating, impenetrable cat-like glance which only actressesand great ladies can use. Then she held out her hand to her husband. "'Poor dear, you had scarcely gone before I blamed myself a thousandtimes over. It seemed to me that I had been horribly ungrateful. Itold myself that I had been unkind. --Was I very unkind?' she asked, turning to me. --'Why not receive your friends? Is it not your house?Do you want to know the reason of it all? Well, I was afraid that Iwas not loved; and indeed I was half-way between repentance and theshame of going back. I read the newspapers, and saw that there was afirst night at the Varietes, and I thought you had meant to give thedinner to a collaborator. Left to myself, I gave way, I dressed tohurry out after you--poor pet. ' "Du Bruel looked at me triumphantly, not a vestige of a recollectionof his orations _contra Tullia_ in his mind. "'Well, dearest, I have not spoken to any one of them, ' he said. "'How well we understand each other!' quoth she. "Even as she uttered those bewildering sweet words, I caught sight ofsomething in her belt, the corner of a little note thrust sidewiseinto it; but I did not need that indication to tell me that Tullia'sfantastic conduct was referable to occult causes. Woman, in myopinion, is the most logical of created beings, the child aloneexcepted. In both we behold a sublime phenomenon, the unvaryingtriumph of one dominant, all-excluding thought. The child's thoughtchanges every moment; but while it possesses him, he acts upon it withsuch ardor that others give way before him, fascinated by theingenuity, the persistence of a strong desire. Woman is lesschangeable, but to call her capricious is a stupid insult. Whenevershe acts, she is always swayed by one dominant passion; and wonderfulit is to see how she makes that passion the very centre of her world. "Tullia was irresistible; she twisted du Bruel round her fingers, thesky grew blue again, the evening was glorious. And ingenious writer ofplays as he is, he never so much as saw that his wife had buried atrouble out of sight. "'Such is life, my dear fellow, ' he said to me, 'ups and downs andcontrasts. ' "'Especially life off the stage, ' I put in. "'That is just what I mean, ' he continued. 'Why, but for theseviolent emotions, one would be bored to death! Ah! that woman has thegift of rousing me. ' "We went to the Varietes after dinner; but before we left the house Islipped into du Bruel's room, and on a shelf among a pile of wastepapers found the copy of the _Petites-Affiches_, in which, agreeablyto the reformed law, notice of the purchase of the house was inserted. The words stared me in the face--'At the request of Jean Francois duBruel and Claudine Chaffaroux, his wife----' _Here_ was theexplanation of the whole matter. I offered my arm to Claudine, andallowed the guests to descend the stairs in front of us. When we werealone--'If I were La Palferine, ' I said, 'I would not break anappointment. ' "Gravely she laid her finger on her lips. She leant on my arm as wewent downstairs, and looked at me with almost something like happinessin her eyes because I knew La Palferine. Can you see the first ideathat occurred to her? She thought of making a spy of me, but I turnedher off with the light jesting talk of Bohemia. "A month later, after a first performance of one of du Bruel's plays, we met in the vestibule of the theatre. It was raining; I went to calla cab. We had been delayed for a few minutes, so that there were nocabs in sight. Claudine scolded du Bruel soundly; and as we rolledthrough the streets (for she set me down at Florine's), she continuedthe quarrel with a series of most mortifying remarks. "'What is this about?' I inquired. "'Oh, my dear fellow, she blames me for allowing you to run out for acab, and thereupon proceeds to wish for a carriage. ' "'As a dancer, ' said she, 'I have never been accustomed to use myfeet except on the boards. If you have any spirit, you will turn outfour more plays or so in a year; you will make up your mind thatsucceed they must, when you think of the end in view, and that yourwife will not walk in the mud. It is a shame that I should have to askfor it. You ought to have guessed my continual discomfort during thefive years since I married you. ' "'I am quite willing, ' returned du Bruel. 'But we shall ruinourselves. ' "'If you run into debt, ' she said, 'my uncle's money will clear itoff some day. ' "'You are quite capable of leaving me the debts and taking theproperty. ' "'Oh! is that the way you take it?' retorted she. 'I have nothingmore to say to you; such a speech stops my mouth. ' "Whereupon du Bruel poured out his soul in excuses and protestationsof love. Not a word did she say. He took her hands, she allowed him totake them; they were like ice, like a dead woman's hands. Tullia, youcan understand, was playing to admiration the part of corpse thatwomen can play to show you that they refuse their consent to anythingand everything; that for you they are suppressing soul, spirit, andlife, and regard themselves as beasts of burden. Nothing so provokes aman with a heart as this strategy. Women can only use it with thosewho worship them. "She turned to me. 'Do you suppose, ' she said scornfully, 'that aCount would have uttered such an insult even if the thought hadentered his mind? For my misfortune I have lived with dukes, ambassadors, and great lords, and I know their ways. How intolerableit makes bourgeois life! After all, a playwright is not a Rastignacnor a Rhetore----' "Du Bruel looked ghastly at this. Two days afterwards we met in the_foyer_ at the Opera, and took a few turns together. The conversationfell on Tullia. "'Do not take my ravings on the boulevard too seriously, ' said he; 'Ihave a violent temper. ' "For two winters I was a tolerably frequent visitor at du Bruel'shouse, and I followed Claudine's tactics closely. She had a splendidcarriage. Du Bruel entered public life; she made him abjure hisRoyalist opinions. He rallied himself; he took his place again in theadministration; the National Guard was discreetly canvassed, du Bruelwas elected major, and behaved so valorously in a street riot, that hewas decorated with the rosette of an officer of the Legion of Honor. He was appointed Master of Requests and head of a department. UncleChaffaroux died and left his niece forty thousand francs per annum, three-fourths of his fortune. Du Bruel became a deputy; butbeforehand, to save the necessity of re-election, he secured hisnomination to the Council of State. He reprinted divers archaeologicaltreatises, a couple of political pamphlets, and a statistical work, byway of pretext for his appointment to one of the obliging academies ofthe Institut. At this moment he is a Commander of the Legion, and(after fishing in the troubled waters of political intrigue) has quiterecently been made a peer of France and a count. As yet our frienddoes not venture to bear his honors; his wife merely puts 'La Comtessedu Bruel' on her cards. The sometime playwright has the Order ofLeopold, the Order of Isabella, the cross of Saint-Vladimir, secondclass, the Order of Civil Merit of Bavaria, the Papal Order of theGolden Spur, --all the lesser orders, in short, besides the GrandCross. "Three months ago Claudine drove to La Palferine's door in hersplendid carriage with its armorial bearings. Du Bruel's grandfatherwas a farmer of taxes ennobled towards the end of Louis Quatorze'sreign. Cherin composed his coat-of-arms for him, so the Count'scoronet looks not amiss above a scutcheon innocent of Imperialabsurdities. In this way, in the short space of three years, Claudinehad carried out the programme laid down for her by the charming, light-hearted La Palferine. "One day, just above a month ago, she climbed the miserable staircaseto her lover's lodging; climbed in her glory, dressed like a realcountess of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, to our friend's garret. LaPalferine, seeing her, said, 'You have made a peeress of yourself Iknow. But it is too late, Claudine; every one is talking just nowabout the Southern Cross, I should like it see it!' "'I will get it for you. ' "La Palferine burst into a peal of Homeric laughter. "'Most distinctly, ' he returned, 'I do _not_ wish to have a woman asignorant as a carp for my mistress, a woman that springs like a flyingfish from the green-room of the Opera to Court, for I should like tosee you at the Court of the Citizen King. ' "She turned to me. "'What is the Southern Cross?' she asked, in a sad, downcast voice. "I was struck with admiration for this indomitable love, outdoing themost ingenious marvels of fairy tales in real life--a love that wouldspring over a precipice to find a roc's egg, or to gather the singingflower. I explained that the Southern Cross was a nebulousconstellation even brighter than the Milky Way, arranged in the formof a cross, and that it could only be seen in southern latitudes. "'Very well, Charles, let us go, ' said she. "La Palferine, ferocious though he was, had tears in his eyes; butwhat a look there was in Claudine's face, what a note in her voice! Ihave seen nothing like the thing that followed, not even in thesupreme touch of a great actor's art; nothing to compare with hermovement when she saw the hard eyes softened in tears; Claudine sankupon her knees and kissed La Palferine's pitiless hand. He raised herwith his grand manner, his 'Rusticoli air, ' as he calls it--'There, child!' he said, 'I will do something for you; I will put you--in mywill. ' "Well, " concluded Nathan, "I ask myself sometimes whether du Bruel isreally deceived. Truly there is nothing more comic, nothing strangerthan the sight of a careless young fellow ruling a married couple, hisslightest whims received as law, the weightiest decisions revoked at aword from him. That dinner incident, as you can see, is repeated timeswithout number, it interferes with important matters. Still, but forClaudine's caprices, du Bruel would be de Cursy still, onevaudevillist among five hundred; whereas he is in the House of Peers. " "You will change the names, I hope!" said Nathan, addressing Mme. Dela Baudraye. "I should think so! I have only set names to the masks for you. Mydear Nathan, " she added in the poet's ear, "I know another case onwhich the wife takes du Bruel's place. " "And the catastrophe?" queried Lousteau, returning just at the end ofMme. De la Baudraye's story. "I do not believe in catastrophes. One has to invent such good ones toshow that art is quite a match for chance; and nobody reads a booktwice, my friend, except for the details. " "But there is a catastrophe, " persisted Nathan. "What is it?" "The Marquise de Rochefide is infatuated with Charles Edward. My storyexcited her curiosity. " "Oh, unhappy woman!" cried Mme. De la Baudraye. "Not so unhappy, " said Nathan, "for Maxime de Trailles and LaPalferine have brought about a rupture between the Marquis and Mme. Schontz, and they mean to make it up between Arthur and Beatrix. " 1839 - 1845. ADDENDUM The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. Bianchon, Horace Father Goriot The Atheist's Mass Cesar Birotteau The Commission in Lunacy Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment The Secrets of a Princess The Government Clerks Pierrette A Study of Woman Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine The Seamy Side of History The Magic Skin A Second Home Letters of Two Brides The Muse of the Department The Imaginary Mistress The Middle Classes Cousin Betty The Country ParsonIn addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following: Another Study of Woman La Grande Breteche Bruel, Jean Francois du A Bachelor's Establishment The Government Clerks A Start in Life The Middle Classes A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Daughter of Eve Bruel, Claudine Chaffaroux, Madame du A Bachelor's Establishment A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Letters of Two Brides The Middle Classes Chaffaroux Cesar Birotteau The Middle Classes Chocardelle, Mademoiselle Beatrix A Man of Business Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis La Baudraye, Madame Polydore Milaud de The Muse of the Department Cousin Betty Laguerre, Mademoiselle The Peasantry La Palferine, Comte de A Man of Business Cousin Betty Beatrix The Imaginary Mistress Lousteau, Etienne A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment Scenes from a Courtesan's Life A Daughter of Eve Beatrix The Muse of the Department Cousin Betty A Man of Business The Middle Classes The Unconscious Humorists Marcas, Zephirin Z. Marcas Nathan, Raoul Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Secrets of a Princess A Daughter of Eve Letters of Two Brides The Seamy Side of History The Muse of the Department A Man of Business The Unconscious Humorists Nathan, Madame Raoul The Muse of the Department Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Government Clerks A Bachelor's Establishment Ursule Mirouet Eugenie Grandet The Imaginary Mistress A Daughter of Eve The Unconscious Humorists Popinot, Madame Anselme Cesar Birotteau Cousin Betty Cousin Pons Rochefide, Marquise de Beatrix The Secrets of a Princess A Daughter of Eve Sarrasine Tissot, Pierre-Francois Father Goriot