1830
THE RED AND THE BLACK
by Stendhal
translated by Charles Tergie
Electronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R)
BOOK ONE
-
Truth, bitter truth
DANTON
CHAPTER 1
A Small Town
-
Put thousands together
Less bad,
But the cage less gay.
HOBBES
-
THE LITTLE TOWN of Verrieres can pass for one of the prettiest in
Franche-Comte. Its white houses, with their gable roofs of red tiling,
spread over the slope of a hill, where clumps of chestnut trees mark
every indentation. The Doube flows some hundred feet below the
fortifications which the Spaniards built, now lying in ruins.
Verrieres is sheltered on the north by a high mountain, a spur of
the Jura range. The irregular peaks of Verra are covered with snow
from the earliest frosts in October. A brook falls precipitately
from the mountain, and takes its course through Verrieres before
emptying into the Doube, supplying power to numerous saw-mills.
These form the common industry, affording to the greater portion of
the inhabitants, who are mostly of the peasant class, a certain degree
of affluence. It is not, however, the saw-mills that have enriched
this little town. It is the manufacture of print cloth called
"Mulhouse"; from that has come the general prosperity which has
rebuilt nearly every house in Verrieres since the fall of Napoleon.
On entering the town one is deafened by the din of a crashing,
formidable-looking machine. Twenty heavy hammers, raised by means of a
wheel rotated by the stream, fall with a noise that shakes the
pavement. Each one of these hammers makes many thousands of nails a
day. To the stroke of these enormous hammers pretty little girls are
holding bits of iron which are quickly transformed into nails. This
pretentious establishment is among the things that most astonish the
traveller who comes for the first time among the mountains lying
between France and Switzerland. If the traveller asked to whom this
great nail factory belonged that is deafening the people walking in
Rue Grande, he would be answered, rather indifferently: "Oh, 'tis
the Mayor's." A hundred to one, too, if he stopped for a few moments
in this Rue Grande, which rises steeply from the banks of the Doube to
the top of the hill, he would see a tall man appear, walking with an
air of great importance. At sight of him all hats are hastily
raised. His hair is gray, and the suit he wears is gray. With his high
forehead and aquiline nose, his face altogether is not without some
regularity. He is a Knight in several Orders. One sees, too, at
first glance, that there is mingled with the dignity of mayor a sort
of solid contentment natural to a man of forty-eight or fifty. But
this contended self-complaisance, in which is seen an element of
something hard and prosaic, soon grates upon the Parisian traveller.
The impression is gathered that the sole genius of the man lies in
exacting prompt payment from his debtors, and in demurring payment
to the very last to his creditors.
This is the Mayor of Verrieres, M. de Renal. He walks across the
street with much deliberation, and enters the Town Hall,
disappearing then from the traveller's eyes. But a hundred steps
farther, if the latter continued his walk, he would see a very
pretty house and, beyond an iron railing leading from it, a
beautiful garden. Beyond it the line of the horizon is made up of
the hills of Bourgogne, formed apparently just to please the eye. This
view is somewhat of a relief to the traveller depressed by the
atmosphere of insatiable greed surrounding him.
He is informed that the house belongs to M. de Renal. It is from the
profits he made in his great nail factory that the Mayor of
Verrieres has built this beautiful stone residence, just lately
finished. The report goes that the Mayor is of an old Spanish
family; according to his own declaration, his family had been
established in the neighborhood long before the time of Louis XIV.
Ever since 1815 he has blushed at being a manufacturer; that year
had made him Mayor of Verrieres. The terrace walls, retaining
various portions of this magnificent garden, which slopes so
beautifully from plane to plane down to the Doube, are the reward of
M. de Renal's knowledge of the iron trade. Of course, one must not
expect to find those picturesque gardens in France which surround
the manufacturing cities of Germany, like Leipzig, Frankfort, or
Nuremberg. In Franche-Comte the more walls one builds, stone on stone,
on property, the higher does he rise in the estimation of his
neighbors. M. de Renal's gardens, therefore, are a network of walls,
and these are the more admired because the ground over which they
stretch was not bought at a bargain. That saw-mill, for instance,
which, with the name Sorel in gigantic letters on a roof-board,
attracted your attention upon entering Verrieres, was six years ago
located on the very spot on which the wall of the fourth terrace is
being built in M. de Renal's gardens.
Notwithstanding his pride, his honor the Mayor had been forced to
make many a concession to this obstinate, hard-headed peasant Sorel.
He had to pay him a pretty penny for having him move his mill away.
The public stream by which the mill was turned, M. de Renal, thanks to
strong influence in Paris, was then able to turn off in another
direction. That privilege he obtained after the elections in 182_.
He gave Sorel four acres for one a hundred feet lower down along the
Doube. And, though the new location was far better for his fir-plank
concern, Father Sorel- so he is called since he has become rich-
knew how to extract six thousand francs in addition from the
impatience and property mania which possessed his neighbor.
True, this transaction was criticized by the good people of the
place. Only four years afterwards, one Sunday, while M. de Renal,
adorned with the insignia of office, was returning from church, he saw
Sorel from a distance, accompanied by his three sons, smiling
blandly at him. That smile came like a stab to him, for it vividly
recalled the time when he might have driven a much better bargain.
No one that builds a wall, if he wishes to receive public
consideration at Verrieres, will adopt the plans the masons bring from
Italy when, in the spring of the year, they cross the Jura Mountains
on their way to Paris. Such an innovation would bring to the imprudent
builder the reputation of "a bad head," and he would forever be lost
with the sage and prudent folk who dispense good opinion in
Franche-Comte.
In truth, these wise people exercise a most annoying tyranny. For
that reason is life in the small towns insupportable for one who has
lived in that great republic which we call Paris. The tyranny of
public opinion- and such opinion- is as stupid in the small towns in
France as in the United States of America.
CHAPTER 2
A Mayor
-
Sir, is importance of no account? The respect of drunkards, the
astonishment of children, the envy of the rich, the contempt of the
wise man.
BARNAVE
-
FORTUNATELY for the administrative reputation of M. de Renal, a
big sustaining wall was needed for the public thoroughfare. The street
was up grade to a height of nearly a hundred feet above the banks of
the Doube. This made it one of the most picturesque views in France.
But the street was flooded every spring by the heavy rains, and then
the gulleys made it impassable. This state of affairs brought M. de
Renal to the happy necessity of immortalizing his administration by
a wall twenty feet high and between sixty and eighty fathoms long.
The parapet of this wall, on account of which M. de Renal had to
make three trips to Paris- the former Minister of the Interior
having declared himself a mortal enemy of this promenade in Verrieres-
is four feet above the ground, and, as if to defy all ministers,
present and future, it is lined with blocks of cut stone.
How often have my eyes gazed down the Doube valley, leaning on those
massive bluish-gray blocks of granite, with my thoughts far off in
dreams of Paris balls! There on the right bank stretch five or six
little vales through which the eye perceives winding, thread-like
streams. These, then, falling over cascades, rush into the Doube.
The sun is hot in these mountains; from the torrid heat the dreaming
traveller seeks the shade of the magnificent plane trees. These,
growing in the filled-in earth behind the large sustaining wall,
bear proudly their bluish foliage. Indeed, in spite of the
opposition of the municipal council, M. de Renal had thus widened
the promenade by more than six feet; and though he is a
Conservative, and I myself a Liberal, I will not withhold from him
my need of praise. I sustain his opinion, and that of M. Valenod,
the genial Director of the Verrieres poor-house, that this terrace
might compare well with that of Saint-Germain at Laye.
I have only one objection to the Cours de la Fidelite- this official
name is read in a dozen different places, on slabs of marble, and adds
another decoration to M. de Renal- what I find fault with in the Cours
de la Fidelite is the barbarous manner in which the plane trees have
been cut; they are trimmed away. But the Mayor's is a despotic will,
and twice a year the trees in the public places are ruthlessly
amputated. The Liberals in the town insinuate, though indeed
exaggeratingly, that the official gardener's hand cuts deeper since
the Vicar Maslon has contracted the habit of enriching himself from
the profits of sheepshearing.
This young ecclesiastic had been sent some years before from
Besancon to keep an eye on Abbe Chelan and other curates in the
neighborhood. An old staff-surgeon of the army of Italy, who had
retired to Verrieres, having been in his life-time, like the Mayor,
first a Jacobin and then a Bonapartist, had the temerity one day to
complain of the periodic mutilation of these beautiful trees. "I
like the shade," replied M. de Renal, with a haughtiness befitting the
occasion; "I love the shade; I have my own trees trimmed with shade in
view, and I cannot conceive how a tree can be good for anything else
if it does not bring in any revenue, like the useful walnut tree,
for instance."
That is the great word which decides everything in Verrieres-
"revenue." It represents the habitual thought of three-fourths of
its inhabitants. "Yield revenue" is reason enough for deciding
everything in this little town which seems so pretty to you. The
stranger on arriving might be led by the beauty of the fresh deep
valleys surrounding it to imagine that the inhabitants have an eye for
the beautiful: they speak only too often of the beauty of the
neighborhood. Indeed, it cannot be denied that they prize it highly;
but that is because it attracts strangers, and these enrich the
proprietors of the inns, and thus, through the mechanism of the
custom-house, "revenue" is produced.
One fine autumn day M. de Renal was walking in Cours de la Fidelite,
arm in arm with his wife. While listening to her husband, who was
talking in a serious tone, Madame de Renal followed with an anxious
eye the movements of her three little boys. The eldest, who might have
been eleven years old, was approaching the parapet with a too
evident intention of mounting it. A gentle voice pronounced the name
"Adolphe," and the child then gave up his ambitious project. Madame de
Renal seemed to be a woman of thirty, but was still very pretty.
"He will indeed be sorry for it, this fine gentleman from Paris,"
spoke M. de Renal, in an injured tone, looking paler than usual. "I am
not without some friends at the chateau." The "fine gentleman from
Paris" who seemed so odious to the Mayor of Verrieres was none other
than M. Appert, who had contrived two days before to visit not only
the Verrieres prison and poor-house, but also the hospital, which
was managed gratuitously by the Mayor and the leading citizens.
"But," said Madame de Renal, timidly, "what harm can this Paris
gentleman do, since you are administering the affairs of the poor with
the most scrupulous honesty?"
"He comes only to cast aspersion, and then he will have articles
inserted in the Liberal newspapers."
"You never read them, my dear."
"But people talk about these Jacobin articles. That is what is
annoying us and preventing us from doing good. As for me, I will never
forgive the curate."
CHAPTER 3
The Good of the Poor
-
A pastor who is virtuous and without intrigue is a providence
for the village.
FLEURY
-
THE CURATE of Verrieres, an old man of eighty, whom the keen
mountain air had given unbroken health and a constitution of iron, had
the privilege of visiting the prison, the hospital, and even the
poor-house at any time. It was exactly at six in the morning that M.
Appert, coming from Paris with letters of introduction to the
curate, had found it convenient to arrive at this queer little town.
He had immediately gone to the vicarage.
When the curate Chelan read the letter written by Marquis de la
Mole, a peer of France and the owner of the richest estates in the
province, he remained pensive.
"I am old and beloved here," he said to himself, and then, half
aloud: "they would not dare." Turning suddenly to the visitor from
Paris, his eyes, in spite of his great age, gleaming with the holy
light that announces the joy of doing a good but dangerous act, he
said:
"Come with me, monsieur, and be so good as to express no opinion
of what we shall see while the warden is present, and especially not
in the presence of the overseers at the poorhouse." M. Appert, knowing
that he had to deal with a man of courage, followed the venerable
curate to the prison, the hospital, and the poor-house, asking many
questions, but never permitting himself, in spite of strange
replies, to pass a single criticism.
The visit lasted several hours. The curate invited M. Appert to
dinner, but the latter pleaded that he had some letters to write.
He, in truth, did not wish to compromise his generous companion any
further. Towards three o'clock they went to the poorhouse again, to
finish their inspection, arriving later at the prison. There, by the
door, they found the warden, a bow-legged giant six feet tall.
"Ah! monsieur," he said to the curate, "this gentleman is M.
Appert I see with you?"
"What of it?" replied the curate.
"Only I've received strict orders yesterday from the prefect, by a
gendarme who must have galloped the whole night, not to admit M.
Appert to the jail."
"I do inform you, Monsieur Noiroud, that this visitor who is with me
is M. Appert. You forget that I have the right to visit the prison
at any hour, day or night, accompanied by any one I please."
"Yes, monsieur curate," replied the warden, in a low voice,
hanging his head like a dog that is compelled to obey for fear of
the stick; "only, monsieur curate, I have a wife and children. If
I'm informed on, I'll be discharged; I have nothing to live on but
my place."
"I should also be sorry to lose mine," said the good curate, with
increasing tremor in his voice.
"What a difference!" replied the warden. "You, monsieur curate, have
an income of eight hundred francs laid up for a rainy day."
Such are the facts which, commented upon and exaggerated in twenty
different ways, were arousing the most hateful passions in this little
town of Verrieres. Just at this moment they were serving as the text
for the little discussion between M. de Renal and his wife. The
following morning he had gone, accompanied by M. Valenod, the
poor-house Director, to the house of the curate, to show him his great
displeasure. M. Chelan was not the protege of any one; he felt the
full weight of their words.
"Well, gentlemen, I shall be the third curate who will have been
removed from this neighborhood at the age of eighty. I have lived here
fifty-six years. I have baptized nearly all the inhabitants of this
town, which was nothing more than a village when I came here. I
marry young folks every day whose grandfathers were married by me.
Verrieres is my family; but I thought to myself, when I saw this
stranger, 'This man, coming as he does from Paris, may indeed be a
Liberal- there are only too many of them there- but what harm can he
do to our poor and to our prisoners?'"
As M. de Renal's rebukes, and particularly M. Valenod's, became
severer, the old curate cried out, tremblingly: "Well, gentlemen, have
me removed. I will not for that reason leave the neighborhood. You
know I inherited a farm forty years ago which brings me in eight
hundred francs. I shall live on this income; I have not put by money
in my position, sirs; and that is why I am not so frightened when told
I shall lose it."
M. de Renal lived happily with his wife, but he was on the point
of getting very angry after she had repeated timidly, "What harm can
this Paris gentleman do to the prisoners?" and he had not found a
reply. Suddenly she uttered a cry; the second one of her boys had just
mounted the parapet of the terrace and was running on it twenty feet
above the vineyard, on the other side. The fear of frightening her
child, and thereby causing him to fall, made Madame de Renal dumb.
Soon the child, merry with his prowess, remarked his mother's paleness
and, leaping down, ran to her side. He received a scolding.
This little incident changed the subject of the conversation.
"I wish decidedly to take Sorel into the house, the son of the
plank-sawyer," said M. de Renal. "He will take care of the children,
who are getting too wild for us. He is a young priest, or as much as
that; a good Latin scholar, with whom the children will make progress,
for he has a firm character, the curate said. I will give him three
hundred francs and board. I have had some doubts about his morals; for
he was the Benjamin of that old army surgeon, the member of the Legion
of Honor who came to make his home with the Sorels on the pretext that
he was their cousin. That man couldn't well be but a secret agent of
the Liberals; he would say that our mountain air was good for his
asthma, but it has not proved so. He had been in all the campaigns
with Bonaparte in Italy, and had even voted No, it is said, as to
the Empire. This Liberal taught young Sorel Latin, and has left him
a number of books he had brought with him. Really, I should never have
thought of bringing the carpenter's son near our children; but the
curate, just before the interview which has put us on the outs for
good, told me that Sorel has been studying theology for three years,
with the intention of entering the seminary; he is not, therefore, a
Liberal; and he is a Latinist.
"This arrangement is a good one in more ways than one," continued M.
de Renal, looking diplomatically at his wife; "Valenod is very proud
of the two Norman horses he has just bought for his carriage. But he
has no tutor for his children."
"He might take this one away from us."
"You approve, then, of my plan?" said M. de Renal, thanking his wife
with a smile for her shrewd remark.
"Oh, my dear, how quickly you make up your mind!"
"That's because I am a man of decision, I am; and that the curate
has seen. We should not deceive ourselves; we are surrounded by
Liberals here. All these linen merchants are envying me; I am sure
of it. Two or three of them are getting rich. Well, I like very much
that they should see de Renal's children promenading under the care of
a tutor. That will be imposing. My grandfather often told me that he
had a tutor in his youth. It may cost me perhaps a hundred crowns; but
it should be included under the necessary expenses of living according
to our rank." The sudden resolution brought Madame de Renal to a new
train of thought.
She was a tall woman, of good figure, once the belle, it is said, of
all this mountain region. There was something ingenious and youthful
in her bearing; to a Parisian that simple grace, so full of
innocence and vivacity, might have suggested something voluptuous. Had
she been aware that she had this mode of pleasing, she would have been
greatly shocked. Neither coquetry nor affectation had ever entered her
heart. M. Valenod, the rich Director of the poor, was known to have
paid her marked attention, but without success. This put a shining
mark on her virtue; for this M. Valenod, a tall, well-built man,
with a ruddy face and fine black whiskers, was one of those coarse,
bold, noisy fellows that pass for handsome men in the country.
Madame de Renal, who was of a retiring, unobtrusive disposition, was
particularly annoyed at the restless movements and loud voice of M.
Valenod. Her indifference to what was called pleasure at Verrieres had
given her the reputation of being proud. That did not concern her in
the least; on the contrary, she was very much pleased to see that
the townspeople were coming less frequently to her house. It cannot be
denied, too, that she passed for a foolish creature in the eyes of the
women; for, without the least shrewdness in managing her husband,
she was continually missing the best opportunities for getting
beautiful bonnets from Paris or Besancon. Provided she was let alone
to walk in her pretty garden she would be perfectly content.
Hers was an unassuming nature that would not rise even to the
point of passing judgment on her husband or of admitting that she
was not happy with him. She supposed, without ever expressing it, that
the sweetest relations do not exist between man and wife. She, indeed,
loved M. de Renal when he spoke of their plans for the children: he
had designated the eldest for the army, the second for the law, and
the youngest for the church. M. de Renal was only less disagreeable,
on the whole, than any man of her acquaintance.
This marital judgment was not unfair. Through half a dozen stories
he inherited from an uncle, the Mayor of Verrieres had acquired a
reputation for wit and elegance. Old Captain Renal served before the
Revolution in an infantry regiment of the Duke of Orleans, and when he
came to Paris he was admitted to the drawing-rooms of the prince. He
saw there Madame de Montesson, the famous Madame de Genlis, M. Ducret,
the architect of the Palais Royal. All these personages appeared
only too often in M. de Renal's anecdotes. But gradually the memory of
the things that required delicacy to relate became burdensome to
him, and for some time he would repeat his anecdotes relative to the
House of Orleans only on state occasions. Moreover, as he possessed
much refinement, except when the conversation turned on money affairs,
he passed, with good reason, for the most aristocratic personage in
Verrieres.
CHAPTER 4
A Father and a Son
-
And will the fault be mine if things are so?
MACHIAVELLI
-
"MY WIFE has really a good head," said the Mayor of Verrieres next
morning when he went down to old Sorel's saw-mill; "the reason I
gave her was that it would maintain my superior rank. It never
occurred to me that if I don't take this little priest Sorel, who,
they say, knows Latin like a book, the Director of the poor-house,
that insatiable creature, might have the same idea and take him away
from me. With what an air of importance he would then talk of his
children's tutor! Will this tutor wear the cassock in my house?"
M. de Renal was absorbed in this idea, when he observed from a
distance a peasant nearly six feet tall busily measuring some logs
in the towing-path by the river bank. The peasant did not seem much
pleased to see the Mayor approach him; for the logs were obstructing
the path and were laid there contrary to law.
Father Sorel- for it was he- was greatly surprised, and even to a
greater extent pleased at M. de Renal's singular proposition with
reference to his son Julien. He was no longer listening to him with
that crestfallen air with which the cunning of these mountain burghers
clothes itself so readily. Having been serfs during the Spanish
supremacy, they still retain this characteristic of the Egyptian
fellah.
Sorel's answer was at first only a long recital of all the
respectful formulas he knew by heart. While reciting these empty
phrases- delivered with an awkward smile that accentuated the false
and almost knavish expression of his face- the active mind of the
old peasant was busily searching for the reason that would lead so
important a man to take his scamp of a boy. He himself thought very
little of Julien, and yet M. de Renal was offering him the
unexpected sum of three hundred francs a year, besides his board and
clothes. The last stipulation, which Sorel had the genius to put in at
once, had been finally accepted by M. de Renal.
That request came home to the Mayor with great force. "Since Sorel
is not overjoyed over my proposition, as he naturally should be, it is
clear," he said to himself, "that he has received an offer from
another direction; and where could it come from if not from
Valenod?" It was in vain that M. de Renal urged Sorel to close the
bargain at once; the old peasant's astuteness offered an effective
resistance. He wished, he said, to consult his son; as if, in the
country, a rich father would consult a son with nothing in the
world, but for pure form!
-
A saw-mill run by water power consists of a shed built on the bank
of a stream. The roof is supported by a framework resting on four
large wooden posts. At a height of eight or ten feet, in the middle of
the shed, is the saw swaying up and down, while a very simple
contrivance pushes the logs before it. A wheel turned by the water
produces both these movements- that of the saw sliding up and down,
and that by which the logs are slowly brought in front of it.
Approaching his mill, old Sorel, in stentorian tones, called for
Julien. No one answered. He could only see his eldest sons, a race
of giants, trimming fir logs with their heavy axes. They were intently
following the black lines traced over the logs; with each stroke of
the axe immense slivers were falling away. They did not hear their
father's voice. The latter therefore walked toward the shed. When he
entered, he looked in vain for Julien, who should have been at work by
the saw. He observed him five or six feet higher up, astride a beam
beneath the roof. Instead of tending to the machinery, Julien was
reading. Nothing was so exasperating to old Sorel. He could have
forgiven Julien his slight figure, which was so ill-adapted to heavy
work, and was so different from his elder sons; but this mania for
reading he despised- he himself did not know how to read.
He called Julien two or three times, but in vain. The attention he
was giving to the book, more than the noise of the machinery,
prevented him from hearing anything. The latter, then, in spite of his
age, leaped lightly upon the shaft supporting the framework of the
saw, and from there to the horizontal beam beneath the roof. A violent
blow sent into the river the book Julien was holding; a second one,
equally violent, aimed at his head, made him lose his balance. He
was about to fall twelve or fifteen feet below, on top of the moving
machinery, where he would have been crushed, when his father caught
him with his left hand as he slipped.
"Now, you lazy good-for-nothing! So you'll then always be reading
your damned books when you should be minding the saw? Read them at
night when you go to waste your time at the curate's!"
Julien, though stunned by the blow, and bleeding, went to his post
of duty by the saw. There were tears in his eyes, less from physical
pain than from the loss of the book he loved.
"Come down, you cur, so I can talk to you."
The noise of the machinery prevented Julien from hearing this order.
His father, who had climbed down, went to get a pole, not wishing to
take the trouble of climbing into the rafters again; with this he
struck him on the shoulder. Hardly had Julien reached the floor,
when old Sorel, pushing him rudely before him, chased him towards
the house. "Lord knows what he is going to do with me," said the boy
to himself. Coming near the river, he looked sadly where his book
had fallen; it was "Memorial de Sainte-Helene," the book he
cherished most of all.
His cheeks were purple and he kept his eyes on the ground. He was
a lad eighteen or nineteen years of age, small in stature, with
irregular but delicate features, and of a constitution apparently
weakly. His nose was aquiline; and his large black eyes, which in
quiet moments showed thought and vivacity, were ablaze now with the
fiercest hatred. His dark brown hair, growing very low on his
forehead, gave him a narrow brow, that in moments of anger looked
positively wicked. His face would hardly be remarked among the
infinite variety of human countenances by any feature particularly
striking. His slight, well-proportioned figure gave evidence more of
agility than of strength. From his earliest childhood his extremely
pensive air and great paleness had given his father the idea that he
would not live long, or that he would be a burden on the family. As he
was treated slightingly by all in the house, he only had hatred for
his father and brothers. He was always beaten in the Sunday games in
the public square.
It was a year since his handsome face commenced to attract the
attention of some friendly young girls. Having been an object of
disdain to nearly every one as a weakly boy, Julien had worshipped
that old surgeon-major who dared one day to speak to the Mayor on
the subject of the plane trees.
This army surgeon sometimes paid Father Sorel a day's wages for
his son, whom he would then teach Latin and history; that is, what
he knew of history- the campaign of 1796 in Italy. Before he died he
bequeathed to him his Cross of the Legion of Honor, the arrears on his
half-pay, and thirty or forty volumes, the most precious of which
had just gone into the public stream. This was the stream the course
of which had been changed by the authority of the Mayor.
Immediately upon entering the house Julien felt his shoulders seized
by the powerful hands of his father; he trembled, expecting blows.
"Answer me without lying," the old peasant shrieked into his ears in
his harsh voice, while turning him round with the hand, as a child
might turn a tin soldier. Julien's large black eyes, welling with
tears, were opposite the little gray eyes of the old carpenter, who
looked as if he wished to penetrate to the very bottom of his soul.
CHAPTER 5
A Transaction
-
Cunctando restituit rem.
(By delaying, he saved the state.)
ENNIUS
-
"ANSWER ME without lying, if you can, you cur. Since when do you
know Madame de Renal? When have you spoken to her?"
"I have never spoken to her," replied Julien. "I have never seen
this lady except in church."
"But you have looked at her close, you brazen scamp?"
"Never! You know that in church I see only God," answered Julien,
with what he thought enough hypocrisy to avoid a return of blows.
"But there is something up," muttered the peasant, shrewdly. Then,
after a moment's silence: "But I'll never learn anything from you, you
damned hypocrite. Anyhow, I'm going to get rid of you; and my saw will
go the better for that. You've won over the curate or somebody else
who has got a good situation for you. Go and pack up your things,
and I'll take you to M. de Renal's, where you will teach the
children."
"What shall I get for that?"
"Your board and clothes and three hundred francs in wages."
"I don't want to be a servant."
"You idiot, who is talking about being a servant? Do I want my son
to be a servant?"
"But with whom am I going to be at the table?"
The question disconcerted old Sorel; he felt, if he kept on talking,
he might say something imprudent. He therefore began to storm at
Julien, pouring out upon him a veritable torrent of abuse in which the
word "gourmandizer" was most conspicuous. Then he went away to consult
his other sons.
Julien saw these soon afterwards leaning on their axes. After
observing them for some time without being able to read anything
from their expression, he moved to the other side of the shed, so as
not to be taken by surprise. He wished to think in quiet of the
unexpected event that was changing the course of his life. But he
could not think calmly; his imagination was busy representing what
M. de Renal's house would be. All that he would rather give up, he
thought, than to come down to eating with servants. "My father would
force me to it- rather die! I have fifteen francs and eight sous saved
up, and I'll run away this very night; two days over the
cross-roads, where I need not be afraid of the guards, and I am at
Besancon. Then I'll enlist as a soldier, and, if necessary, go to
Switzerland. But then good-by to a career and to the priesthood,
that leads to everything!"
His horror of eating with servants was not natural to Julien; he
would not have hesitated at anything equally disagreeable to get on in
the world. But this repugnance he drew from Rousseau's
"Confessions," the only book through which he looked at life. A
collection of "Bulletins de la Grande Armee" and the "Memorial de
Sainte-Helene" completed his Koran. Never did he pin his faith to
other books. Like the old army surgeon, he looked upon all other books
as a pack of lies gotten up by stupid fops just to make a noise in the
world.
Together with an ardent disposition, Julien united such an
astounding memory as is often allied with idiocy. In order to win over
the old curate, Chelan, on whom, he saw clearly, his career more or
less depended, he had committed to memory the whole of the New
Testament in Latin. He also knew M. de Maistre's "On the Pope," and
with as little faith in the one as in the other.
As though by agreement, Sorel and his sons avoided speaking to him
for the rest of that day. Towards evening Julien went to take his
theology lesson at the curate's; but he did not deem it prudent to say
anything of the strange proposition that had been made to his
father. "Perhaps it is only a trap," he said to himself, "I must
pretend I have forgotten it."
Early next day M. de Renal sent for old Sorel. The latter, after a
delay of an hour or two, finally arrived with a hundred excuses and
salaams. Then, by urging all sorts of objections, he had the
satisfaction of knowing that his son would eat with the master and
mistress of the house, and on company days alone with the children, in
a separate room. Interposing more objections, as he perceived a
decided eagerness on the part of the Mayor, Sorel asked to see his
son's sleeping-room. It was a large, neatly furnished room, in which
the children's beds were already being brought in. That came like a
ray of light to the old peasant; he soon asked, with the utmost
assurance, to see what clothes his son would receive. M. de Renal went
to his desk and took out a hundred francs.
"With this money your son may go to the tailor Durand and order a
black suit."
"And if I should take him away from you," asked the peasant, who had
all at once forgotten his courtly genuflexions, "might he keep this
suit?"
"Of course."
"Well, then," said Sorel, drawling out his words, "It remains only
to agree about one thing- the money you are going to give him."
"What!" cried M. de Renal hotly, "we agreed about that yesterday. It
is three hundred francs; I think it is a good deal, if not too much."
"That was your offer; I don't deny it," said old Sorel, his words
coming slower than ever. Then, by a stroke of genius quite familiar to
those who know the peasants of Franche-Comte, he added, looking
steadily at M. de Renal: "We find something better elsewhere."
At these words the Mayor's face fell. He soon composed himself,
however, and entered on a profound discussion lasting over two
hours. Not a word was spoken but was carefully weighed. In the end the
astuteness of the peasant won the day- that was an article not
essential to the rich man for earning a livelihood. All the points
involved in Julien's new mode of life were carefully reviewed; not
only was his salary to be four hundred francs, but it was to be paid
monthly, in advance.
"Very well, I will give him thirty-five francs," said M. de Renal.
"To make it a round sum," said the peasant slyly, "a rich and
generous man like you, monsieur Mayor, will make it thirty-six
francs?"
"Well- yes," said M. de Renal; "but let us close it."
For once, anger lent a shade of firmness to his tone. The peasant
saw that he must not press any further. Then M. de Renal began to make
progress on his side. He would never give the thirty-six francs for
the first month to old Sorel, who was eager to get it for his son.
It was dawning on M. de Renal that he would be obliged to tell his
wife of his part in the whole transaction.
"Give me back the hundred francs I gave you," he said firmly.
"Durand owes me something; I will go with your son to order the
black suit."
After this vigorous move, Sorel prudently took recourse to his
respectful formalities; these took a good quarter of an hour. Then,
seeing that he had positively nothing more to gain, he took his leave.
His last reverence was accompanied with the words: "I will send my son
to the chateau-" so the Mayor's house was called by the officials when
they wished to please him.
On returning to his house, Sorel looked in vain for his son.
Distrustful of what might happen, Julien had stolen out in the
middle of the night to put his books and the Cross of the Legion of
Honor where they might be safe. He had brought them to his friend, a
young wood dealer, by name of Fouque, who lived on the top of the
mountain overlooking Verrieres.
When he appeared again, his father began by saying: "The Lord knows,
you damned good-for-nothing, if you will ever have the honor to pay me
for what I have given you these many years. There, take your rags
and go to the Mayor's."
Julien, surprised at not receiving a blow, hurried away. But
scarcely was he out of sight of his terrible father when he began
walking very slowly. He judged it would not be amiss with his
hypocrisy if he stopped a while at the church.
That word should not be surprising. Before arriving at the import of
it, the young man had covered considerable ground. In his early
childhood the long white coats and black tufted helmets of some
dragoons of the Sixth who were returning from Italy, and whom Julien
saw tying their horses to the grilled window of his father's house,
had made him wild for the army. Later he would listen with delight
to the accounts of the battles of Lodi, of Arcole, of Rivoli, which
the old army surgeon would give. He would notice with what an
impassioned look that old man would gaze at his cross.
But when Julien was fourteen a church was building in Verrieres
that, for a small town, was indeed magnificent. Four marble columns
particularly took Julien's fancy. These later became celebrated in the
neighborhood for the mortal hatred they engendered between the justice
of the peace and the young Besancon vicar who passed for a
Congregation spy. The magistrate came near being removed; such, at
least, was the common opinion. Did he not dare to differ with the
priest who went every fortnight to Besancon, where, it was said, he
had interviews with the Bishop?
In the meantime the magistrate- the father of a numerous family- was
handing down decisions that were seemingly unjust, and these were
all adverse to the readers of the "Constitutionel". It was only a
question, it is true, of a few francs; but one of these fines had to
be paid by a nail-maker, Julien's godfather. "What a change!" burst
out that man in mighty wrath; "and to think that for twenty years this
justice has passed for such a good man!"
All at once Julien ceased to speak of Napoleon; he announced his
intention of becoming a priest. And he was constantly seen in his
father's mill learning by heart the Latin Bible which had been given
to him by the curate. This good old man, marvelling at his progress,
spent whole evenings instructing him in theology. Before him Julien
expressed only the most pious sentiments. Who would have thought
that his girlish face, so pale and delicate, concealed the firm
resolution to brave a thousand deaths rather than fail to make a
mark in life?
For Julien a career meant, first of all, to leave Verrieres; he
detested the place of his birth. Everything he saw there ran counter
to his ideal. For from childhood he had had moments of great
exaltation. Later he would delightfully conjure up in his mind
beautiful Parisian women who would know and admire him some day for
his brilliant career. Why should not one of these fall in love with
him just as Bonaparte, while still poor, had been loved by the
brilliant Madame de Beauharnais? For many years Julien had not
passed a single hour without telling himself that Bonaparte, an
obscure, moneyless lieutenant, made himself master of the world by his
sword. That thought had consoled him in his griefs, which he thought
very great, and redoubled every stray joy.
The building of the church and the decisions of the magistrate
came to him then as a revelation. One idea formed itself in his mind
that made him wild for weeks, finally mastering him with all the force
of a new idea in an ardent soul.
"When Bonaparte arose, France was in dread of disaster; military
glory was necessary and fashionable. To-day one sees priests at
forty with incomes of a hundred thousand francs, or three times as
much as the famous division generals under Napoleon received. There
must be men to back them. Here is this justice of the peace, such a
fine head, and such a good old man until now, dishonoring himself
for fear of displeasing a young vicar of thirty. I will become a
priest."
Once, when two years had elapsed after beginning his studies, he was
betrayed in the very midst of his piety by the sudden darting out of
his old flame. It was at M. Chelan's, at a dinner for the priests,
to which the good curate had invited him as a marvel of diligence.
It came into his head to praise Napoleon furiously, madly. For that he
held his right arm bent across his breast- he had dislocated it, he
said, while moving a log- and carried it in that position for two
whole months. After that self-inflicted pain he pardoned himself. That
was the young man of eighteen, so weak in appearance, looking for
all the world considerably less than seventeen years of age, who
entered the magnificent church of Verrieres with a little bundle under
his arm. It was empty, gloomy. On the occasion of some feast the
transepts had been decorated with some crimson stuff. In the
sunlight this shone with dazzling splendor, with a sort of
depressingly religious effect. Julien was ill at ease. Being alone
in the church, he sat down in a pew that looked the prettiest. It bore
the arms of M. de Renal. On the altar Julien noticed a piece of
printed paper, smoothed out as if it was meant to be read. Examining
it, he saw:
"Details of the execution and of the last moments of Louis
Jenrel, executed at Besancon on the..." and there the paper had
been torn off. On the back there were the first two words of a line:
"The First Step."
"Who could have put that paper there?" thought Julien. "Poor
wretch!" he added, with a sigh, "his name ends like mine"; and he
crumpled the piece of paper in his hand.
On going out, Julien thought he saw some blood near the font; it was
some holy water that had been spilt, to which the reflection from
the red curtains in the windows had given the color of blood. Julien
was soon ashamed of his weakness.
"Am I going to be a coward?" he said. "To arms!"
That phrase, repeated so frequently in the old surgeon's recitals of
his battles, invariably had a heroic effect on Julien. He arose, and
walked rapidly towards M. de Renal's house.
But when he saw it only twenty steps away, he was seized with
unconquerable timidity in spite of his fine resolutions. The iron
grating was open; it was so imposing: yet he must enter.
Julien was not the only one whose heart was uneasy over his
arrival at the house. Madame de Renal, who was of an extremely timid
disposition, was greatly disconcerted over the idea that a stranger
would find it his duty to stand between herself and her children.
She was accustomed to seeing her children put to bed in her own
room. That morning she had shed many tears when she saw the little
beds carried into the tutor's room. It was in vain that she had begged
her husband to have Stanislaus-Xavier's- the youngest boy's- little
bed carried back into her own room again.
Womanly delicacy was most marked in Madame de Renal. She had
formed in her mind a most disagreeable picture of a frowzy, uncouth
creature in rags, who would be snarling at her children just because
he knew Latin- a barbarous language for which her boys would be
whipped.
CHAPTER 6
Boredom
-
I know no longer what I am, or what I do.
MOZART, Figaro.
-
WITH the lively grace that was so characteristic of her when she was
not in men's society, Madame de Renal had just passed through the side
door opening on the garden, when she observed near the gate the almost
childish, pale, tear-stained face of a young peasant boy. He had on
a white shirt, and carried under his arm a neat little ratteen jacket.
The boy had such a fine complexion and such beautiful eyes that
something like a romantic thought came to Madame de Renal to suspect
in him only a girl in disguise, with a petition to the Mayor. Her
heart was full of pity for the poor creature at the gate, who had not,
evidently, the courage to raise his hand to the bell. Madame de Renal,
for the moment free from the disagreeable thought about tutors,
advanced a few steps towards him. Julien, with his face turned towards
the door, did not see her. He trembled all over when he heard close to
him, in a gentle voice:
"What is it you want here, my child?"
Julien turned quickly around. His timidity left him under the kindly
look Madame de Renal gave him. Presently, dazed by her beauty, he
forgot everything, even what had recently occurred. Madame de Renal
repeated the question.
"I am here to be the instructor, madame," he said to her, ashamed of
the tears which he did his best to wipe away.
Madame de Renal was dumbfounded; they were then near enough to
observe each other closely. Julien had never known a person so well
dressed, particularly a woman of such radiant beauty, to talk to
him. Madame de Renal observed the great tears on his cheeks; the
latter, though pale at first, were now crimson. She laughed
outright, and her laugh had all the abandon of a young girl. She was
now amused at herself. What, was this the tutor, the dirty, ragged
priest she imagined, who would abuse her children? She could not at
first wholly grasp the situation.
"Why, monsieur," she gasped, "you know Latin?" This word
"monsieur" astonished Julien so much that he had difficulty about
collecting his thoughts.
"Yes, madame," he replied, shyly.
She was so happy that she hardly dared add:
"You will not, then, scold the poor children too much?"
"I scold them?" asked Julien in astonishment; "why?"
"Then you will be good to them, monsieur," she added, after a
moment's silence, in a quavering voice, "will you promise me?"
To hear himself called "monsieur" again seriously, and by a lady
so beautifully dressed, was above all Julien's expectations; in all
the air castles he had built in his youth he had been convinced that
no fine lady would deign to notice him until he had on a smart
uniform. Madame de Renal, on her part, was completely taken by
surprise by Julien's fine complexion and large black eyes and black
curly hair, curling more than usual after the refreshing plunge he had
given his head in the public fountain on the way. To her great joy,
she was beholding the reserve of a young girl in this dreaded tutor
whose severity she had been fearing so much for her poor children. For
such a peaceful soul as Madame de Renal's, the contrast between what
she had feared and what she saw marked a great event. Gradually she
overcame her surprise, and then she wondered why she should be
standing near the door of her house so close to this half-clad young
man.
"Come in, monsieur," she said, somewhat embarrassed.
In all her life a pleasant sensation had never before affected
Madame de Renal to such a great extent. Never before had such a
pleasing apparition succeeded such disquieting fears. Her pretty
children, upon whom she had bestowed such loving care, would not now
fall into the hands of a dirty priest and scold. Arrived scarcely in
the hall, she turned to look at Julien again, who was timidly
following. His astonishment at beholding such a well-appointed house
seemed so pretty to Madame de Renal. She could not believe her eyes:
she thought then that he should by all means be dressed in black.
"But is it true, monsieur," she said to him, stopping for an instant
in as much dread of being deceived as she was happy in her belief, "is
it true you know Latin?" The words wounded Julien's pride and
dispelled the charm in which he had been living for some moments.
"Yes, madame," he replied, endeavoring to assume an injured tone, "I
know Latin as much as the curate; and sometimes, even, he is kind
enough to say that I know more."
Madame de Renal noticed that Julien had somewhat of a temper. He had
stopped two steps behind her. Approaching him, she said:
"You will not, the first few days, whip my boys? Even when they
don't know their lessons?"
The gentle, half-pleading tone of the beautiful woman made Julien
immediately forget what was due to his reputation as a Latin
scholar. Madame de Renal's face was near his own; he inhaled the
perfume of a woman's summer garments- an astonishing thing for a
poor peasant. Julien blushed deeply, saying falteringly:
"Have no fear, madame; I will obey you in everything."
It was at this moment, when the fear for her children was wholly
removed, that Madame de Renal was struck by Julien's extreme beauty.
Neither the femininity of his features nor his embarrassment seemed
absurd to this timid woman. A virile air, which is commonly regarded
as essential to masculine beauty, would have disconcerted her.
"How old are you, monsieur?" she asked Julien.
"I shall soon be nineteen."
"My eldest son is eleven," replied Madame de Renal, wholly
reassured; "he will be almost a companion for you. You can talk
sense to him. Once his father punished him, and the child was sick for
a week; and yet it was only a light tap."
"How different with me!" thought Julien; "it was only yesterday my
father beat me. How happy these rich people are!"
Already Madame de Renal was eager to catch the slightest shade of
meaning in the tutor's mind. Mistaking his sad expression for
embarrassment, she asked, with the intention of encouraging him:
"What is your name?"
There was a grace in tone and accent of which Julien felt the
whole charm, though unable to account for it.
"I am called Julien Sorel, madame. I am so afraid in coming to a
strange house the first time in my life; I have need of your
indulgence and your pardon for many things the first few days. I
have never been at college; I have been too poor. I have never
spoken to any men except my cousin, the army surgeon of the Legion
of Honor, and the curate, M. Chelan. He will give you a good account
of me. My brothers have always beaten me; don't believe them if they
say anything bad about me. Please overlook my mistakes, madame; I will
never have any but good intentions."
Julien became reassured during his long speech and had been
carefully observing Madame de Renal. Such is the effect of perfect
grace, especially when the person it adorns is unaware of it, that
Julien, who prided himself on his knowledge of feminine beauty,
would have sworn at that moment that she was only twenty. For an
instant he had the daring idea of kissing her hand; but he was
afraid of his bold desire. Presently, however, he began saying to
himself: "It would be cowardly to refrain from doing what can be
useful to me, in removing the contempt of this beautiful lady for a
poor workman, just taken from the mill." Perhaps Julien was a little
encouraged by the phrase "pretty boy," which he had been hearing for
six months on Sundays from the mouths of some young girls. While he
was debating with himself, Madame de Renal was addressing him a few
words about the way to begin with the children. The violent conflict
in which Julien was engaged made him very pale again, and he said in a
constrained tone:
"Never, madame, will I strike your children; I swear it before God."
And in saying these words he took Madame de Renal's hand and brought
it to his lips. She was first startled by the movement, then
dumbfounded. As it was very warm, her arm was bare under her shawl,
and Julien's action in bringing the hand to his lips had entirely
uncovered it. She took herself severely to task; it seemed to her that
she was not showing herself indignant enough.
M. de Renal, who had heard them talking, then came out of his
room. With the same majestic, magisterial tone he used in performing
weddings in the town hall, he said to Julien:
"I want to speak to you before the children see you."
He called Julien into a room, detaining also his wife, who wished to
leave them together. When the door had been closed, M. de Renal seated
himself with great pomp.
"The curate has told me that you are a good young man. Everybody
here will treat you with respect; and, if you give me satisfaction,
I will help you to a little start. I desire that you see neither
relatives nor friends; their bearing is not suitable for my
children. Here are thirty-six francs for the first month; but I want
your word of honor that not a centime of this goes to your father." M.
de Renal was angry at the old man, who had shown himself more astute
in the transaction.
"Now, monsieur- for everybody here has orders from me to call
you monsieur, and you shall see the advantage of entering properly
into a good family- now, monsieur, it is not proper that the
children should see you in a jacket. Have the servants seen him?"
asked M. de Renal of his wife.
"No, dear," she replied, absent-mindedly.
"So much the better. Put this on," he said to the surprised young
man, handing him a long coat; "we will now go to Durand, the
tailor's."
An hour later, when M. de Renal returned with the tutor all in
black, he found his wife seated in the same place. She felt a quieting
effect in Julien's presence; in looking him over she forgot to be
afraid. Julien was not thinking of her; in spite of his distrust of
men and of fate, his soul at that moment was like a child's. It seemed
to him as if he had lived years since he stood trembling in the church
three hours before. He remarked Madame de Renal's cool demeanor; he
felt she was angry at him for his daring kiss on her hand. But the
proud feeling which the contact of different clothes from what he
had been accustomed to wearing gave him made him lose his equipoise;
and he was so eager to hide his joy that every movement of his
became brusque and ludicrous. Madame de Renal stared at him in
astonishment.
"Serious, monsieur," M. de Renal said to him, "be serious, if you
desire the respect of my children and my servants."
"Monsieur," replied Julien, "I am spoiled by these new clothes. As a
poor peasant I have worn only jackets. With your leave I will retire
to my room for a while."
"What do you think of this new acquisition?" asked M. de Renal of
his wife.
Something like instinct, of which Madame de Renal was certainly
not aware, made her disguise the truth to her husband.
"I am not as charmed with this peasant as you are; your kindness
will make him impertinent, and you will be obliged to send him away in
less than a month."
"Oh, well, we shall see. It will cost me about a hundred francs,
that's about all, and Verrieres will then have frequently seen M. de
Renal's children with a tutor. That I should never obtain if I allowed
Julien to be dressed in workmen's clothes. In sending him away, I
should certainly take back the black suit I have just ordered for
him at the tailor's. He would only take with him what I got for him
ready-made, which I have already given to him."
The hour Julien spent in his room seemed only a minute to Madame
de Renal. The children, to whom the tutor's arrival had been
announced, were overwhelming their mother with all manner of
questions. At length Julien appeared. He was a different man. It would
have been wrong to say he was serious; he was the very incarnation
of gravity. Being introduced to the children, he began to speak to
them in a manner that astonished M. de Renal himself
"I am here, gentlemen," he said to them in conclusion of his speech,
"to teach you Latin. You know what it is to recite a lesson. Here is
the Holy Bible," he said, holding out a little black volume; "it is
particularly the history of our Lord Jesus Christ; that part is called
the New Testament. I shall have you often recite your lesson; let me
recite mine." Adolphe, the eldest boy, had taken the book. "Open it
anywhere," continued Julien, "and give me only the first word in the
line. I will recite from this book, which should regulate every
one's conduct, until you stop me."
Adolphe opened the book, read a word, and Julien recited the whole
page as if he were speaking French. M. de Renal looked triumphantly at
his wife. The children, seeing their parents' astonishment, opened
their eyes wide also. A servant came to the door, but Julien continued
to deliver in Latin. The servant stood stock-still for a minute and
then fled. Presently the maid and the cook came to the door. Adolphe
had then opened the book in eight different places, and Julien was
continuing with uninterrupted fluency. "Oh, Lord, the pretty little
priest!" cried the pious cook.
M. de Renal's self-esteem was becoming acutely sensitive; far from
thinking of examining the teacher, he was busy himself scraping up a
few Latin words. He at last found himself equal to the task of quoting
a verse from Horace. Julien knew only Bible Latin. He replied,
contracting his brows: "The holy ministry to which I will devote
myself forbids me reading such a profane poet."
M. de Renal now cited a fairly large number of lines which he said
were from Horace. He explained to the children who Horace was, but
they kept admiringly gazing at Julien without giving their father
the least attention.
The servants being at the door, Julien concluded to make the most of
the moment. "Let Master Stanislaus-Xavier," he said to the youngest
boy, "indicate a passage from the Holy Book." Little Stanislaus, proud
of the distinction, stumbled over the first word of a line, and Julien
reeled off the whole page. As if nothing should be wanting to M. de
Renal's triumph, there entered, while Julien was reciting, M. Valenod,
the owner of the beautiful Norman horses, and M. Charcot de
Maugiron, the sub-prefect of the department. This scene earned for
Julien the appellation of "monsieur"; the servants themselves did
not dare refuse it to him.
In the evening all Verrieres came to M. de Renal's house to see
the prodigy. Julien coolly kept every one at a distance. His
reputation spread so rapidly in the town that M. de Renal, fearing
lest some one might take him away, proposed to him a few days later to
sign a two years' contract.
"No, monsieur," answered Julien, coolly; "if you wished to send me
away I should be obliged to go. A contract that is binding on me and
not on you is not just. I refuse."
Julien knew so well how to conduct himself that in less than a month
after his arrival M. de Renal himself respected him. As the curate was
in disfavor with de Renal and Valenod, there was no one to tell of
Julien's old passion for Napoleon. On that subject he always spoke
with holy horror.
CHAPTER 7
Elective Affinities
-
They know how to touch the heart only by offending it.
A CONTEMPORARY
-
THE CHILDREN adored him, though he himself did not love them. His
thoughts were elsewhere. Whatever the little rogues might do, he never
became impatient. Cool, just, dispassionate, he was a model of a
teacher. He became endeared to all because he in some way relieved the
monotony in the house. He himself entertained only hatred for the high
society to which he had come; he was at the foot of the table, to be
sure- and that perhaps could explain his hatred. At certain dinners,
when company was present, he restrained his abhorrence for his
surroundings only with great difficulty. One day- it was the day of
Saint Louis- M. Valenod held forth at great length, and Julien was
on the point of betraying himself. He fled to the garden, saying he
wished to see the children. "What tributes to probity!" he thought.
"One would think it is the only virtue. Yet what respect, what
scraping homage this man receives, who has most likely doubled and
trebled his fortune at the expense of the poor! I wager he makes money
even out of the foundling funds, those poor little creatures whose
misery is more sacred than any one's. Ah, monsters, monsters! And I,
too, I am a sort of a foundling, hated by my father, by my brothers,
by my whole family."
A few days before, while walking alone in the little wood Belvedere,
that overlooked the Cours de la Fidelite, Julien, carrying his
little breviary in his hand, had tried in vain to avoid meeting his
two brothers, whom he saw approaching along a solitary path. The
jealousy of these coarse fellows was so greatly aroused by his fine
black coat and generally neat appearance, but more than all by his
evident contempt for them, that they had fallen upon him and left
him bleeding and insensible. Madame de Renal, who was walking with
M. Valenod and the sub-prefect, happened to come by chance into this
little place of wood. She found Julien lying on the ground; she
thought he was dead. Her shock was so great as to make Valenod
jealous.
He was alarmed too soon.
Julien thought Madame de Renal very pretty, but because of this very
beauty he hated her. He deemed her the first stumbling block to his
career. He spoke to her as little as possible, in order to forget
the feeling by which he had been led the first day to kiss her hand.
Elisa, Madame de Renal's maid, did not lose any time in falling in
love with the young teacher. She spoke frequently of him to her
mistress. Miss Elisa's love made an enemy for him of one of the
valets. One day he heard that man say to her: "You don't want to
talk to me any more since this dirty teacher has come to the house.
Julien did not deserve that insult; for he took especial pains with
his person, though that was more or less instinctive with the handsome
fellow. M. Valenod's hatred for him also increased. He said publicly
that such flirting was not proper for a young priest.
Madame de Renal noticed that Julien was speaking quite often to
Elisa; she learned that those conversations were caused by Julien's
poverty. Having only a few changes of linen, he was compelled to
have it washed frequently outside, and for these little cares Elisa
made herself invaluable. This extreme poverty touched Madame de Renal,
who had never suspected it. She had a mind to make him a present or
two, but she did not dare. This inner check was her first painful
sensation caused by Julien. Up to this time Julien's name and a
feeling of pure, ideal joy had been one and the same with her.
Tormented by Julien's poverty, Madame de Renal ventured to speak to
her husband about making him a gift of linen.
"What nonsense!" he answered. "Why give presents to a man with
whom we are perfectly satisfied and who serves us well? No, if he
slighted his work we should stimulate his zeal."
Madame de Renal was humiliated by his view of it; before Julien's
arrival she would not have noticed it. She never observed the spotless
cleanliness of the young theologian's poor shift without asking
herself, "How can the young man do it?"
And gradually she came to regard him tenderly.
Madame de Renal was one of those women who might easily be called
foolish after only a fortnight's acquaintance. Of the real world she
had no knowledge, and her propensity for conversation was slight. With
a faint touch of aloofness in her bearing, she paid but little
attention to the gross persons in whose sphere chance had cast her
life. Her unaffected, lively temperament might have been brought out
to an advantage even by the shallowest kind of an education; but being
an heiress, she had been reared by the pious Sisters of the Sacred
Heart of Jesus, who were animated by a violent hatred of the French,
the enemies of the Jesuits. Madame de Renal had enough good sense soon
to forget all that she had learned in the convent as something absurd;
but she put nothing in its place, and remained ignorant. The fulsome
flatteries which she received as the heiress of a great fortune, as
well as her passionate religious devotion, made her live a wholly
inner life. With what appeared as unconditional yielding, which
husbands in Verrieres cited as an example for their wives, and
formed the pride of M. de Renal, the habitual state of her mind was
virtually the effect of a proud spirit.
-
Up to the arrival of Julien she had not paid the least attention
to any one but her children. Their little ailments, their little
griefs, their little joys had filled up her entire soul, which had
adored only God- when she was at the Sacred Heart in Besancon.
Without caring to speak of it to any one, when one of her boys had
fever, she felt as if the child were dead. A loud burst of laughter
and a shrug of the shoulders, accompanied with a trite maxim about a
woman's nonsense, had constantly greeted such confidences, when from
sheer need of expression she would impart them to her husband during
the first years of their married life. This sort of pleasantry,
especially when it concerned her children, was like a dagger in Madame
de Renal's heart. That was what she found in the place of the
importunate and honeyed flatteries in the Jesuit convent in her
girlhood. Her education was really made up of chagrin. Too proud to
speak of her disappointments even to her friend Madame Derville, she
imagined all men were like her husband, or M. Valenod, or the
sub-prefect Charcot de Maugiron. The coarseness and brutal
insensibility to everything that did not concern money or station or
the Cross, the blind hatred for every manifestation of reason that
opposed their wishes, seemed natural to the sex, like the wearing of
boots.
After long years Madame de Renal had not yet accustomed herself to
the mercenary people in the midst of whom she had to live. Hence the
success of the little peasant Julien. She found in the sympathy of his
noble, proud soul exquisite joy, and this was heightened by the
charm of novelty. Madame de Renal soon overlooked his extreme
inexperience-an additional grace in her eyes- and his rude manners,
which she succeeded in correcting. She found he was worth listening to
even when he spoke of the commonest things, as of a dog that had
been run over by a peasant's cart while he was crossing the street.
Her husband would only have laughed at the cruel spectacle, but she
saw Julien's finely arched eyebrows contract with pain. Little by
little, generosity, humaneness, nobility of soul seemed to exist
only in the young priest. For him alone she had all the sympathy and
admiration which those virtues enkindle in generous hearts.
In Paris, Julien's attitude toward Madame de Renal would have been
much simplified; but in Paris love is the offspring only of novels.
The young preceptor and the timid mistress would have been enlightened
as to their mutual relation by three or four romances. Those works
of fiction would have outlined for them their respective parts and
would have given them a model for their imitation; and that model
Julien would have been forced to follow, through sheer vanity,
sooner or later, though it might have been devoid of pleasure, and
even positively irksome.
In a little town in the Aveyron or in the Pyrenees the slightest
incident would have been made decisive by the heat of the climate.
Under our darker skies a poor young man who is ambitious only
because he has a delicate desire for some pleasures money can buy,
sees, without borrowing anything from the novels, a sincerely good
woman of thirty, every day occupied with her children. Everything is
slow, gradual in the province; it is more natural.
Often, thinking of the young teacher's poverty, Madame de Renal
would be moved to tears. Julien surprised her one day while she was
crying. "Oh, madame, has anything happened?"
"No, 'mon ami,'" she replied. "Call the children. Let us take a
walk together."
She took his arm, and in a way rather singular to Julien. It was the
first time she had called him "mon ami." At the conclusion of the walk
Julien remarked that she was blushing very deeply. She talked rather
hesitatingly.
"You may have been told," she said, without looking at him, "I am
the sole heiress of a rich aunt who lives at Besancon. She
overwhelms me with presents. My sons are doing nicely-
astonishingly- I would ask you to accept a little present as a token
of my gratitude. It is only a matter of a few louis- for linen.
But-" she added, blushing more deeply, and coming to an abrupt stop.
"What, madame?" said Julien.
"It would be useless," she continued, lowering her head, "to speak
to my husband about it."
"I am small, madame, but I am not low," replied Julien, stopping
short, his eyes ablaze with anger, and drawing himself up to his
full height. "It is because you have not reflected. I should be
lower than a valet if I put myself in a position of hiding from M.
de Renal anything concerning my money."
Madame de Renal was dumbfounded.
"His honor the Mayor," continued Julien, "has given me thirty-five
francs five times since I came to the house. I am ready to show my
expense book to M. de Renal, and, as far as that is concerned, even to
M. Valenod, who hates me."
Madame de Renal remained pale and trembling.
And the walk ended without a renewal of the conversation. Love for
Madame de Renal became more and more impossible for the proud
Julien. As for her, she respected him, she admired him. On the pretext
of removing the humiliation which she had caused him, she permitted
herself the tenderest attention. It brought happiness for an entire
week to Madame de Renal. Its effect was in part to appease Julien's
anger; but he was far from seeing anything in it that could resemble
personal feeling.
"See," he said to himself, "how these rich people act; they
humiliate one, and then they think they can remedy everything with a
little nonsense."
Madame de Renal's heart was too frank and too innocent not to speak,
in spite of her resolutions, of the offer she had made to Julien,
and of the way she had been repulsed. "What!" replied M. de Renal
angrily, "could you tolerate a refusal on the part of a domestic?" And
when Madame de Renal objected to that word, he said: "I speak, madame,
like the late Prince de Conde. When he presented his chamberlain to
his second wife, 'All these people,' he said to her, 'are our
domestics.' I have read you this passage from the 'Memoirs de
Bensenval,' a work that is indispensable for people of quality.
Every one in your house who is not of noble birth and who receives
wages is your domestic. I am going to say two words to this Monsieur
Julien and give him a hundred francs."
"Oh, my dear," said Madame de Renal, trembling, "don't do it in
the presence of the servants."
"No; they might be jealous, and with reason," replied her husband,
as he walked away, thinking of the large sum.
Madame de Renal sank into a chair, despairing. "He is going to
humiliate Julien, and through my fault," she said, hiding her face
in her hands. She resolved never again to impart a confidence to him.
When she saw Julien again, she trembled all over. She was so
miserable that she could not utter a single word. In her despair she
had taken his hands and pressed them.
"Ah, well, 'mon ami,'" she said at last, "are you satisfied with
my husband?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" replied Julien, with a bitter smile; "yes,
he has given me a hundred francs."
Madame de Renal looked at him, puzzled.
"Give me your arm," she said, with a suggestion of courage in her
tone which he had not before remarked.
She ventured to walk as far as the book-store in Verrieres with him,
regardless of the bookseller's reputation as a Liberal. There she
bought some books for the children. But the books were those which she
knew Julien wanted. While Madame de Renal was happy in thus making
reparation to Julien, he was marvelling over the number of books in
the store. He had never dared enter so profane a place; his heart beat
violently. Far from trying to divine what was passing in her mind,
he was dreaming only of what chance a young theological student
would have of getting some of those books. Finally it occurred to
him that with a little address it would be possible to persuade M.
de Renal that he needed the history of the celebrated men of the
province for subjects of composition for the boys. After a month of
study, Julien saw his plans succeed to such an extent that he
ventured, in speaking to M. de Renal, to mention something even that
was very painful to the Mayor. That was nothing less than to
contribute to a Liberal's income with a newspaper subscription. M.
de Renal fully agreed with him that it would be wise to give his
eldest son a glance into the many works which he might hear
mentioned in conversation when he entered the military school; but
Julien saw his honor the Mayor very obstinate about going any farther.
He suspected a secret reason, but he could not guess what it was.
"I was thinking, monsieur," he said to him one day, "that it would
be very inconvenient to have a gentleman's name such as Renal on the
stationer's soiled ledger." M. de Renal's brow cleared. "It would also
be a rather awkward thing," continued Julien, in his humblest tone,
"for a poor theological student if it were discovered that his name
was on the ledger of a stationer who loaned books; the Liberals
would accuse me of having asked for the most infamous works. Who knows
but they might go to the length of writing after my name the titles of
the most abominable books!" But Julien then tacked; he saw the Mayor's
face assume an expression of embarrassment and anger. Julien ceased
speaking. "I have got my man," he said to himself.
A few days later the eldest boy, asking about a book advertised in
the "Quotidienne," in M. de Renal's presence, Julien said: "In order
to remove an occasion of triumph for the Jacobin party, and at the
same time to have the means of answering Master Adolphe, a
subscription might be taken from the stationer's through one of the
servants."
"That is not a bad idea," said M. de Renal, visibly very glad.
"Yet it must be specified," said Julien, with a grave, sad tone so
becoming to certain people when they are succeeding in their
undertakings, "It must be specified that the servant shall not take
out a novel. Once in the house, these dangerous books would corrupt
madame's servants."
"You are forgetting the political pamphlets," said M. de Renal,
haughtily, intending to smother the admiration which the tutor's
uncompromising suggestion had won from the children.
Julien's life was thus a series of little intrigues, and the success
of these occupied his mind much more than the marked preference for
him which he could not but read in Madame de Renal.
The moral elevation in which he had passed his life was renewed in
the house of the Mayor of Verrieres. There, as at his father's
saw-mill, he cordially despised the men around him, and was despised
in turn. Every day he saw in the conversation of the sub-prefect, of
Valenod, and others, how little their ideas corresponded with the
truth. His own comment was always, "What knaves or what fools!" The
humor of it was that with all his pride he understood absolutely
nothing at times what was said.
In all his life he had never spoken with sincerity except to the
army sergeant; the few ideas that one had concerned only Napoleon's
Italian campaign, and surgery. His youthful courage jested over the
details of painful operations. He would say, "I shouldn't have
flinched."
The first time Madame de Renal tried to engage him in a conversation
outside of the children's education, he began to speak of surgical
operations; she blanched, and begged him to stop.
Julien did not know anything else; and so, passing whole days with
Madame de Renal, the most singular silence would ensue when they found
themselves alone. In the drawing-room she found that in spite of his
humble demeanor he would look with a certain air of intellectual
superiority at her visitors. When she was alone with him for an
instant, she would see how embarrassed he became. She was uneasy;
her womanly instinct told her that this embarrassment was not the
effect of any tender sentiment.
According to the peculiar notions he had of polite society-
perhaps such as he found in conversation with the army surgeon- Julien
would feel humiliated whenever there was a lull in the conversation
while he was in a woman's company, as if the silence were his fault.
This sensation was a hundred times more painful in a tete-a-tete.
His imagination, stored with most exaggerated quixotic notions of what
a man should say when alone with a woman, offered him only
preposterous ideas in his dilemma. His head soared high among the
clouds, yet he could not relieve the painful silence. As a
consequence, his bearing became more brusque during the long walks
he took with Madame de Renal and the children. He had utter contempt
for himself. If by some ill-chance he was compelled to speak, he would
express the most ridiculous ideas. To complete his misery he himself
was aware of his absurdity, and grossly exaggerated it. But what he
did not see was the expression of his eyes: they were so beautiful,
and reflected a soul so ardent, that, like good deeds, they gave a
charming sense of something they did not possess. Madame de Renal
observed that when he was alone with her, he would never say
anything pleasant except when brought out of himself by something
unforeseen; he would never think of turning a compliment. As her
friends and family did not spoil her with new or brilliant ideas,
she enjoyed immensely the sparks which Julien from time to time
would emit.
Madame de Renal, the heiress of her rich, pious aunt, was married at
the age of sixteen, but had never in her life experienced anything
that in the least resembled love. Her confessor, the good old curate
Chelan, once hinted about Valenod's attentions to her, and he conjured
up in her mind then, while on the subject of love, such an unholy
picture, that the word meant for her only the most unbridled
license. She imagined that the love she read of in the few books which
chance threw in her way was exceptional and extraordinary. Thanks to
such ignorance, Madame de Renal, rapt up in Julien, was supremely
happy; not the least self-reproach entered her heart.
CHAPTER 8
Little Events
-
Then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression,
And stolen glances, sweeter for the theft,
And burning blushes, though for no transgression.
DON JUAN, canto I, stanza 74
-
THE SWEETNESS of life which Madame de Renal owed partly to her
disposition, and partly to her present happiness, was not a little
diminished when she came to think of her maid Elisa. That girl, who
had just come into an inheritance, went to confession to the curate
Chelan, and had avowed her intention of marrying Julien. The curate
found real joy in the happiness of this friend of his, and he was
greatly surprised when Julien announced his resolution that he would
not think of mademoiselle Elisa's offer.
"Take care, my son, as to what is passing in your heart," said the
curate, contracting his brows; "I congratulate you on your choice of
vocation if it is to that alone you owe your contempt for a competence
which is more than sufficient. It is fifty-six years since I am curate
of Verrieres, and yet, to all appearances, I am about to be removed.
It is annoying to me, though I have an income of eight hundred livres.
I make you acquainted with these facts in order that you might not
entertain any illusions about what you may expect when you become a
priest. If you think of truckling to men of power, your eternal
damnation is assured. You might make a career, but you will have to
oppress the wretched and to cater to the sub-prefect and the great man
the Mayor, and minister to their passions. Such conduct, which the
world calls tact, might not be absolutely incompatible with
salvation in the long run; but in our station one must make his choice
between making his fortune in this world or in the next; there is no
other alternative. Come, now, my son, think over it, and come back
in three days with a definite answer. I behold with pain a dark
passion at the bottom of your heart, which does not show me the
moderation and the perfect abnegation of earthly goods essential to
the priesthood. I augur well of you, but let me say," added the good
curate, with tears in his eyes, "I tremble for your salvation as a
priest."
Julien was ashamed of his emotion; for the first time in his life he
saw himself loved, and he wept for joy. He took a walk in the woods
lying above Verrieres to hide his tears.
"How queer I am!" he said to himself "I feel that I should give my
life a hundred times for the curate Chelan, and he has just made me
out a fool. It is he above all that it is important for me to fool,
and he has found me out. The secret ardor of which he speaks is my
ambition to make a mark. He believes me utterly unworthy to become a
priest, and that, too, when the sacrifice of an income of fifty
louis was intended to give him a most exalted notion of my piety and
inclination. In the future," continued Julien, "I will rely only on
those things in my character of which I am sure. Who would have told
me that I should find pleasure in shedding tears or that I should love
the one who proves to me that I am only a fool?"
Three days later Julien found a pretext which might have fortified
him from the very first. This pretext was a calumny, but- what of
it? He confessed to the curate, with much hesitation, that something
which he could not disclose, because it would damage a third party,
forced him suddenly to renounce the proposal- a defamation of
Elisa's character. Chelan noticed something altogether too worldly
in his manner, something entirely different from what he should have
liked to see in a young Levite.
"My son," he said to him again, "try to be a good, estimable, and
accomplished bourgeois rather than an uninspired priest." Julien
replied with a great show of earnestness; the young seminarist's words
were fervent; but the tone, the ill-concealed gleam in the eye,
alarmed the good Chelan. It was an earnest of no mean ability; the
words of cunning, prudent hypocrisy came with great fluency. As to
tone and gesture he showed that he had lived only with peasants, and
great models had not come within the sphere of his vision. He had
not the opportunity of hearing orators admirable alike for their
delivery as for their eloquence.
Madame de Renal was surprised to find that the new fortune of her
maid was not making that girl any happier. She saw her going
continually to the curate, and returning from him with tears in her
eyes. At last Elisa herself spoke to her of her marriage proposal.
Madame de Renal thought she would succumb. A sort of fever robbed
her of her sleep; she lived only when she saw either the maid or
Julien under her eyes. She could only think of them and of the
happiness they would find in their little home. A small household
managed on an income of fifty louis was painted by her with the most
ravishing colors. Julien might very easily become an attorney at Bray,
the sub-prefecture two leagues from Verrieres- and- in that case she
would see him sometimes.
Madame de Renal believed she would go mad. She complained to her
husband, and then really fell sick. The same evening her maid came
to wait on her. She noticed that the latter had been crying. She hated
Elisa at that moment, and was treating her with little kindness. She
was quick, however, in making reparation, and then Elisa's tears
fell faster. She said that if her mistress would permit she would tell
her of her trouble.
"Go ahead," replied Madame de Renal.
"Oh, madame, he refuses me; some wicked people must have told
tales on me, and he believes them."
"Who refuses you?" asked Madame de Renal, scarcely daring to
breathe.
"Who, madame, who, if not this M. Julien?" replied the maid,
sobbing. "The curate has not been able to win him over. The curate
thinks that he should not refuse a good girl because she is only a
maid. After all, Julien's father is only a carpenter, and he
himself-how did he earn a living before coming here?"
Madame de Renal was no longer listening; her great joy bereft her
almost of her reason. She had it repeated to her several times that
Julien had declined in a manner not calculated to show a change of
purpose.
"I will make a final effort," she said to her maid; "I will speak
myself to M. Julien."
Next day, after breakfast, Madame de Renal gave herself up to the
delight of pleading the cause of her rival, and of seeing Elisa's hand
and fortune firmly refused, for a whole hour. From mere
monosyllables Julien passed little by little to a long and spirited
reply to Madame de Renal's representations. She could not stem the
tide of happiness that inundated her heart after so many days of
anguish. She fainted away. When she came to and had been brought to
her room, she sent every one out. She was wildly agitated.
"Is it right that I should love Julien?" she asked herself.
This discovery at any other time would have plunged her into remorse
and would have made her perfectly wretched; but now it appeared to her
only as a singular phenomenon. Worn out by all that she had
experienced, she was insensible to all self-reproach.
Madame de Renal wished to go about her work, but from sheer
exhaustion she fell into a profound slumber. When she awoke she was
not frightened at herself in the least.
She was too happy to take anything amiss. Naive, innocent, the
good woman had never tortured her soul to question a new happiness
or a new grief. Having been absorbed before Julien's arrival in that
mass of work which, outside of Paris, falls to the lot of every good
housewife, Madame de Renal used to think of passion as one might think
of the lottery- a delusion, a pleasure sought by fools.
The dinner bell rang; Madame de Renal blushed when she heard
Julien's voice as he was bringing in the children. Adroit, since she
commenced to love, in explaining her heightened color, she
complained of a frightful headache.
"That's how women are," said M. de Renal, with a loud laugh.
"There is always something to fix in those machines."
Although accustomed to that sort of raillery, the tone grated on
Madame de Renal. To divert her attention she looked at Julien. That
one, if he had been the ugliest of men, would have pleased her at that
moment.
Industrious in his imitation of the ways of the nobility, M. de
Renal had moved in the beginning of spring to Vergy, a village made
famous by the tragic adventure of Gabrielle. A few hundred paces
from the picturesque ruins of an ancient Gothic church was M. de
Renal's cottage, a four-towered affair, with a little garden around it
that was laid out after the manner of the one in the Tuileries, with
boxwood hedges, and walks lined with chestnut trees. An adjoining
field studded with apple trees served as a promenade. At one end of
the orchard stood a dozen magnificent walnut trees; their immense
foliage rose to a height of twenty-four feet.
"Each of these damned walnuts," M. de Renal would say when his
wife admired them, "costs me half an acre in farming; nothing can grow
in their shade."
The country was new to Madame de Renal. Her admiration passed even
to the ecstatic. The feeling which was now dominating her gave her
courage and resolution. The day after their arrival at Vergy, Madame
de Renal hired workmen at her own expense while her husband was away
on official business. Julien had given her the idea of a little sanded
path around the orchard to the walnut trees that would permit the
children to walk in the morning without their feet becoming wet from
the dew. This idea was put into execution in less than twenty-four
hours after being conceived. Madame de Renal gayly passed the whole
day with Julien, directing the workmen.
When the Mayor returned from town, he was greatly surprised at
finding a walk had been laid out. His arrival also surprised Madame de
Renal; she had utterly forgotten that he existed. For two months after
that he spoke in the most aggrieved fashion of the hardihood with
which such an important alteration had been made without
consulting him; but as Madame de Renal had had it done at her own
expense, he was somewhat consoled.
She passed the days running with the children in the orchard chasing
butterflies. They had made nets of some light gauze for the capture of
these poor lepidoptera. That barbarous word Julien had taught her;
for she had ordered from Besancon the fine work of Godart, and
Julien had told her of the singular habits of these insects. These
were pitilessly transfixed on pins and placed on a large card made for
that purpose by Julien. It served as a subject of conversation between
him and Madame de Renal. He was no longer exposed to the cruel torture
he had suffered from silence. They talked unceasingly and
animatedly, always on indifferent topics. This active, busy, gay
life was pleasant to all except to mademoiselle Elisa, who found
herself overburdened with work. Never during the carnival, she would
say, when the ball took place at Verrieres, had madame paid so much
attention to her toilet. She dressed two and three times a day.
It must be said that Madame de Renal, who had a beautiful skin, wore
no dresses which left her arms or breast too much exposed. She was a
beautiful woman, and her style of dressing was exceedingly becoming.
"Never have you been so young, madame," said some friends of
hers who had come to dine at Vergy.
Singularly enough- something that may receive little credence-
Madame de Renal was painstaking about her dress wholly without any
distinct motive. She simply took pleasure in it, and, with no ulterior
thought, she passed all the time, when she was not chasing butterflies
with her children, making herself gowns. Her single trip to
Verrieres was occasioned by a desire to buy some new summer dress
goods which had just come from Mulhouse. She was accompanied on her
return by a young woman, a relative of hers. Since her marriage Madame
de Renal had become very intimate with Madame Derville, who had
formerly been her companion at the Sacred Heart.
Madame Derville laughed considerably at what she called her cousin's
foolish ideas. "Really, I should never think of such things," she
said. Such unexpected sallies as would have been called bright in
Paris, Madame de Renal was ashamed of as a piece of folly when she was
alone with her husband. But Madame Derville's presence gave her
courage. At first she would express herself rather timidly; but when
the women were alone for a long time, Madame de Renal would become
greatly animated, and a long forenoon would pass like a moment and
leave the two friends bright and gay. During this visit, Madame
Derville found her cousin less gay than usual, but much happier.
Julien, on his part, was living a child's life. Since their coming
to the country he was as happy in the butterfly chase as his pupils.
With constraint and plotting removed, with no men around him, and with
no fears any more of Madame de Renal, he gave himself up to the pure
pleasure of existence.
When Madame Derville came, he looked upon her as his friend; he
hastened to show her the view to be had at the foot of the new walk
under the large walnut trees, equal, if not superior, to the most
beautiful in Switzerland or by the Italian lakes. By climbing the
steep bank rising a few feet farther away, a great precipice could
be seen, fringed with oak saplings, stretching clear to the river.
It was to the top of these perpendicular rocks where the happy, free
Julien, feeling as if he were master of the domain, conducted the
two friends, enjoying hugely their admiration of the beautiful
scenery.
"It is like Mozart's music to me," Madame Derville said.
His brothers' jealousy and the presence of his despotic father had
spoiled for Julien the country in the neighborhood of Verrieres. At
Vergy he did not find any of these; for the first time in his life
he could not see an enemy. When M. de Renal went to town, and that was
often, he could read. Soon, in place of reading at night, he could
give himself up to sleep, though still taking care to hide his light
under a vase. During the day, between the children's lessons, he would
go to these rocks with a book which formed the guide of his life and
the object of his affections. He found in it at once happiness, joy,
and exaltation.
Certain things which Napoleon said of women, and several discussions
on the merits of fiction in his reign, gave him then for the first
time ideas which young men of his age would have known long before.
The summer heat came on apace. The evenings were then regularly
passed under a large lime tree a few steps from the house. The
darkness there was profound. One evening, while Julien was conversing,
and enjoying the pleasure of talking well before young women, he
touched, in making a gesture, Madame de Renal's hand resting on the
back of one of the painted garden chairs. The hand was quickly
withdrawn, but Julien thought that it was his duty to bring it about
so that the hand would not be withdrawn when he touched it. The idea
of this duty, and of ridicule, or, rather, of a feeling of inferiority
if he failed to perform it, took away all his pleasure.
CHAPTER 9
An Evening in the Country
-
Monsieur Guerin's Dido, a lovely sketch.
STROMBECK
-
HIS EXPRESSION the next day, when he saw Madame de Renal again,
was strange. He looked upon her as an enemy with whom he was about
to struggle. His look, so different from the night before, almost made
Madame de Renal hysterical. She had been kind to him, and he seemed
angry. She could not remove her eyes from him.
Madame Derville's presence caused Julien to speak less, and to
occupy himself more with what he had in his heart. His sole concern
all that day was to fortify himself with the reading of his inspired
book. This imparted new strength to his soul. He greatly shortened the
children's lessons, and then, when Madame de Renal's presence came
to recall him to his battle for glory, he decided that it was
absolutely necessary that she should allow her hand that night to rest
in his.
As the sun set and the hour of decisive battle approached,
Julien's heart beat most violently. Night came. He observed, with a
joy that removed a great weight from his heart, that the night would
be very dark. The sky, heavy with great clouds, seemed, together
with a very warm wind, to announce a storm. The two cousins came out
very late. Everything they did that night appeared most singular to
Julien. Yet they liked the weather, which for certain delicate souls
seems to increase the pleasure of loving. They soon sat down; Madame
de Renal by the side of Julien, and Madame Derville near her.
Preoccupied with what he was about to do, Julien had nothing to say,
and the conversation lagged.
"Shall I then tremble and be discouraged before my first duel?" he
said to himself. For, distrusting himself and others, he recognized
only too well his own state of mind. In his mortal anguish all dangers
would have seemed preferable. How often did he not wish that something
might happen that would compel Madame de Renal to leave the garden and
return to the house! The inner conflict in which Julien was engaged
was too great to leave his voice steady. Soon, too, Madame de
Renal's voice quavered, though Julien did not notice it. The
dreadful combat in which his duty and timidity had become involved was
too painful to permit him to notice anything outside of himself. The
cottage clock had just struck a quarter to ten, and he had not yet
accomplished anything. Julien, mortified over his cowardice, said to
himself, "When ten o'clock strikes, I will do what I said all this
whole day I would do, or I will go to my room and blow my brains out!"
After another period of anxiety, during which the excess of
emotion made Julien almost mad, ten o'clock struck. Every stroke of
the clock reverberated in his heart, producing an effect as of
physical contact.
At last, when the last stroke was still heard, he stretched out
his hand and seized Madame de Renal's. It was quickly withdrawn.
Julien, without knowing what he was doing, seized it again. Although
moved himself, he was struck by the icy coldness of the hand he
took; he pressed it convulsively. Another effort was made to
withdraw it, but finally the hand remained in his.
His heart was filled with joy; not that he loved Madame de Renal,
but it was an end to his frightful torture. In order that Madame
Derville might not suspect anything, he thought he would begin to
speak. His voice now rang out clear and strong. Madame de Renal, on
the other hand, betrayed so much emotion that her friend, who
thought she was ill, proposed to return to the house. Julien scented
danger. "If Madame de Renal" he argued, "went back to the house I
should be in the same horrible position in which I passed the whole
day. I have not held her hand long enough to see any advantage that
I have gained." While Madame de Renal was considering the idea of
returning to the drawing-room, Julien was tightly pressing the hand
that was now abandoned in his. Madame de Renal, who had already seated
herself again, said faintly:
"I feel, indeed, a little ill; but the open air will do me good."
These words confirmed Julien's happiness, which at that moment was
great indeed. He spoke on; he forgot even to dissemble. Indeed, he
appeared most agreeable to the two friends who were listening to
him. Nevertheless, there was still a want of courage in the
eloquence that came to him all at once. He was in mortal dread lest
Madame Derville, feeling the rising wind which presaged a storm, might
be inclined to return to the house by herself, he would then remain
alone with Madame de Renal. He was possessed of sufficient blind
courage for spontaneous action, but he felt that it was now beyond him
to say the simplest word to her. However lightly he might bear his
self-reproach, he was, after all, to be beaten, and the advantage
which he had just acquired would forthwith disappear.
Happily for him, that night his lively, dashing conversation found
grace with Madame Derville, who very often found it as insipid as a
child's. As for Madame de Renal, with her hand resting in Julien's,
she was not thinking of anything. She seemed only to have a
delicious sense of living. The hours passed under that grand lime
tree- said to have been planted by Charles the Bold- were for her
one long delight. She listened with rapture to the rustling of the
wind in the thick foliage and to the scattering drops on the leaves.
Julien did not remark a certain circumstance that would have greatly
reassured him: Madame de Renal, who had been obliged to withdraw her
hand to help her cousin pick up a vase of flowers that had been
overturned by the wind near by, was hardly seated again before she
gave him her hand without the least hesitancy, as if the matter had
long been agreed upon.
Midnight had long struck, and it became necessary to leave the
garden. They separated, and Madame de Renal, on retiring, had such
transports of love that she did not make herself a single reproach.
Happiness allowed her even no sleep.
On the other hand, a leaden slumber took possession of Julien,
fatigued as he was from the warfare which all that day timidity and
pride had waged in his heart.
Next morning he arose at five o'clock, and- what might have been
cruel for Madame de Renal if she had known it- he scarcely gave her
a thought. He had done his duty. Filled with happiness over this
feeling, he locked himself in his room and gave himself up with
renewed pleasure to the reading of his hero's exploits. By the time
breakfast was served he had forgotten, in the reading of the records
of the Grand Army, all his conquests of the night before. He said to
himself lightly, as he went down to the drawing-room, "I must never
tell the woman I love her."
Instead of looks expressive of love which he expected to meet, he
encountered the frowning face of M. de Renal. The latter, on his
arrival from Verrieres two hours before, had not concealed his great
displeasure at the fact that Julien had spent the entire morning
without attending to the children. No one could be more disagreeable
than this overbearing man in an angry mood when he had the means of
showing it. Each sharp word her husband uttered sent a pang to
Madame de Renal's heart. As for Julien, he was so deeply plunged in
ecstasy, and so greatly occupied with the great things that had passed
before his eyes for several hours, that he could hardly concentrate
his attention on M. de Renal's tirade. At last he said, brusquely:
"I was sick."
The tone of this reply would have piqued a much less sensitive man
than the Mayor of Verrieres. The latter had a mind to reply to
Julien by throwing him out of doors; he was restrained only by his
rule of never doing anything hastily.
"The young fool," he said to himself, "has in a way established
himself in my house. Valenod might take him, or he might marry
Elisa, and in either case he would have his laugh on me, after all."
Despite the wisdom of these reflections, M. de Renal's anger burst
out in a torrent of words that finally enraged Julien. Madame de Renal
was on the point of bursting into tears. Hardly was breakfast over
when she asked Julien to give her his arm for a walk. She leaned on
him then with most marked friendliness. To all that she would say,
Julien could only reply in a suppressed voice:
"That is what rich people are!"
M. de Renal was then walking very close to them, and his presence
increased Julien's anger. Then for the first time he felt that
Madame de Renal was leaning on him. The sensation caused him horror.
He repulsed her violently, disengaging his arm.
Fortunately M. de Renal did not notice this new piece of
impertinence; it was noticed only by Madame Derville. Her friend burst
into tears. At that moment M. de Renal was throwing stones at a little
peasant girl who was walking over a corner of the orchard.
"Monsieur Julien, please restrain yourself; you must know that we
all have our moods," said Madame Derville, quickly.
Julien gazed at her coldly, with eyes expressive of the most
sovereign disdain. His look surprised Madame Derville, and it would
have surprised her still more had she divined its real meaning. She
would have seen there something like a vague desire for atrocious
vengeance. It is without doubt such moments of humiliation that have
made the Robespierres.
"Your Julien is very violent; he frightens me," said Madame Derville
to her cousin in a whisper.
"He is right to be angry," the other replied. "After the astonishing
progress which the children have made, what difference does it make if
he passes a morning without teaching them? Really, men are hard."
For the first time in her life Madame de Renal had a feeling of
resentment against her husband.
-
Julien was about to give vent to the great hatred he entertained for
the rich. Happily, M. de Renal, having called his gardener, was
occupied with him in barring the little path around the orchard with
fagots. Julien did not respond in the slightest to the kindly
attentions of which he was the object for the remainder of the walk.
For hardly had M. de Renal disappeared when both women, pretending
to be tired, asked each an arm. Between these two women, whose
cheeks were red with embarrassment caused by the disagreeable
incident, the pallor and gloom of Julien's face formed a strange
contrast. He despised these women and all their tender sentiments.
"Oh," he said to himself, "not five hundred francs to finish my
studies! How I should like to send these people walking!" Absorbed
in these gloomy reflections, what little he deigned to hear of the
kind words of the two friends irritated him as being devoid of
sense, vapid; in a word, feminine.
Just to be speaking and to keep up a lively conversation it occurred
to Madame de Renal to say that her husband had come from Verrieres
because he had made a bargain with one of the farmers for May straw.
(In that neighborhood mattresses are filled with May straw.)
"My husband will not join us," said Madame de Renal. "With his
gardener and his man he is going to be busy filling the mattresses
in the house. This morning he put straw in all the beds on the first
floor; he is now on the second."
Julien changed color. He gave Madame de Renal a wild look and took
her aside, Madame Derville permitting them to withdraw.
"Save me!" cried Julien. "You alone can do it; for you know that the
valet has a mortal hatred for me. I must confess to you I have a
portrait, madame; I have hidden it in the mattress."
"You have a portrait?" asked Madame de Renal, scarcely able to
stand.
Her look of dejection was perceived by Julien, who immediately
profited by it.
"I have another favor to ask of you, madame: I beg you not to look
at that portrait; it is a secret."
"A secret?" repeated Madame de Renal, faintly.
Though raised among purse-proud people who were sensible only to
money interests, love had already made her heart generous. In spite of
being cruelly wounded, it was with the simplest devotion that Madame
de Renal asked the necessary questions of Julien in order to acquit
herself of the commission.
"So, then," she murmured as she was walking away, "it is a little
round box of soft black cardboard?"
"Yes, madame," answered Julien in that hard tone which danger
imparts to men.
She went up to the second story, with a pallor as if she were
going to her death. To complete her misery she felt as if she were
about to faint; but the necessity of rendering that service to
Julien gave her strength.
"I must get that box," she said to herself, walking faster.
She heard her husband talking to the valet in Julien's very room.
Fortunately they passed into the children's apartment. She raised
the mattress and thrust her hand into the straw with such violence
as to scratch her fingers. Of this she was not aware, though usually
sensitive to such little pains; for almost at the same time she felt
the polished surface of the box. She seized it and disappeared.
Hardly was she delivered from the fear of being surprised by her
husband than the horror which the box caused her nearly made her ill.
"Julien, then, is in love, and I hold here the portrait of the woman
he loves!"
Seated on a chair in the hall leading to that room, Madame de
Renal was a prey to all the horrors of jealousy. Her great lack of
experience at that moment was again useful to her; astonishment was
tempering her grief. Julien appeared, seized the box without
thanking her, without a word, and ran into his room, where, making a
light, he proceeded immediately to burn it. He was pale, exhausted. He
exaggerated the greatness of the risk he had run.
"Napoleon's picture," he said to himself, shaking his head, " |
