letters of two brides-第9章

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of。〃

A　tremor　passed　through　him；　the　blood　rose　in　his　olive　cheeks；　he
replied　in　a　voice　of　some　emotion：

〃Religion　must　have　taught　you；　better　than　I　can；　to　respect　the
unhappy。　Had　I　been　a　/don/　in　Spain；　and　lost　everything　in　the
triumph　of　Ferdinand　VII。；　your　witticism　would　be　unkind；　but　if　I　am
only　a　poor　teacher　of　languages；　is　it　not　a　heartless　satire？
Neither　is　worthy　of　a　young　lady　of　rank。〃

I　took　his　hand；　saying：

〃In　the　name　of　religion　also；　I　beg　you　to　pardon　me。〃

He　bowed；　opened　my　/Don　Quixote/；　and　sat　down。

This　little　incident　disturbed　me　more　than　the　harvest　of
compliments；　gazing　and　pretty　speeches　on　my　most　successful　evening。
During　the　lesson　I　watched　him　attentively；　which　I　could　do　the　more
safely；　as　he　never　looks　at　me。

As　the　result　of　my　observations；　I　made　out　that　the　tutor；　whom　we
took　to　be　forty；　is　a　young　man；　some　years　under　thirty。　My
governess；　to　whom　I　had　handed　him　over；　remarked　on　the　beauty　of
his　black　hair　and　of　his　pearly　teeth。　As　to　his　eyes；　they　are
velvet　and　fire；　but　he　is　plain　and　insignificant。　Though　the
Spaniards　have　been　described　as　not　a　cleanly　people；　this　man　is
most　carefully　got　up；　and　his　hands　are　whiter　than　his　face。　He
stoops　a　little；　and　has　an　extremely　large；　oddly…shaped　head。　His
ugliness；　which；　however；　has　a　dash　of　piquancy；　is　aggravated　by
smallpox　marks；　which　seam　his　face。　His　forehead　is　very　prominent；
and　the　shaggy　eyebrows　meet；　giving　a　repellent　air　of　harshness。
There　is　a　frowning；　plaintive　look　on　his　face；　reminding　one　of　a
sickly　child；　which　owes　its　life　to　superhuman　care；　as　Sister　Marthe
did。　As　my　father　observed；　his　features　are　a　shrunken　reproduction
of　those　of　Cardinal　Ximenes。　The　natural　dignity　of　our　tutor's
manners　seems　to　disconcert　the　dear　Duke；　who　doesn't　like　him；　and
is　never　at　ease　with　him；　he　can't　bear　to　come　in　contact　with
superiority　of　any　kind。

As　soon　as　my　father　knows　enough　Spanish；　we　start　for　Madrid。　When
Henarez　returned；　two　days　after　the　reproof　he　had　given　me；　I
remarked　by　way　of　showing　my　gratitude：

〃I　have　no　doubt　that　you　left　Spain　in　consequence　of　political
events。　If　my　father　is　sent　there；　as　seems　to　be　expected；　we　shall
be　in　a　position　to　help　you；　and　might　be　able　to　obtain　your　pardon；
in　case　you　are　under　sentence。〃

〃It　is　impossible　for　any　one　to　help　me；〃　he　replied。

〃But；〃　I　said；　〃is　that　because　you　refuse　to　accept　any　help；　or
because　the　thing　itself　is　impossible？〃

〃Both；〃　he　said；　with　a　bow；　and　in　a　tone　which　forbade　continuing
the　subject。

My　father's　blood　chafed　in　my　veins。　I　was　offended　by　this　haughty
demeanor；　and　promptly　dropped　Senor　Henarez。

All　the　same；　my　dear；　there　is　something　fine　in　this　rejection　of
any　aid。　〃He　would　not　accept　even　our　friendship；〃　I　reflected；
whilst　conjugating　a　verb。　Suddenly　I　stopped　short　and　told　him　what
was　in　my　mind；　but　in　Spanish。　Henarez　replied　very　politely　that
equality　of　sentiment　was　necessary　between　friends；　which　did　not
exist　in　this　case；　and　therefore　it　was　useless　to　consider　the
question。

〃Do　you　mean　equality　in　the　amount　of　feeling　on　either　side；　or
equality　in　rank？〃　I　persisted；　determined　to　shake　him　out　of　this
provoking　gravity。

He　raised　once　more　those　awe…inspiring　eyes；　and　mine　fell　before
them。　Dear；　this　man　is　a　hopeless　enigma。　He　seemed　to　ask　whether　my
words　meant　love；　and　the　mixture　of　joy；　pride；　and　agonized　doubt　in
his　glance　went　to　my　heart。　It　was　plain　that　advances；　which　would
be　taken　for　what　they　were　worth　in　France；　might　land　me　in
difficulties　with　a　Spaniard；　and　I　drew　back　into　my　shell；　feeling
not　a　little　foolish。

The　lesson　over；　he　bowed；　and　his　eyes　were　eloquent　of　the　humble
prayer：　〃Don't　trifle　with　a　poor　wretch。〃

This　sudden　contrast　to　his　usual　grave　and　dignified　manner　made　a
great　impression　on　me。　It　seems　horrible　to　think　and　to　say；　but　I
can't　help　believing　that　there　are　treasures　of　affection　in　that
man。



IX

MME。　DE　L'ESTORADE　TO　MLLE。　DE　CHAULIEU。
December。

All　is　over；　my　dear　child；　and　it　is　Mme。　de　l'Estorade　who　writes　to
you。　But　between　us　there　is　no　change；　it　is　only　a　girl　the　less。

Don't　be　troubled；　I　did　not　give　my　consent　recklessly　or　without
much　thought。　My　life　is　henceforth　mapped　out　for　me；　and　the　freedom
from　all　uncertainty　as　to　the　road　for　me　to　follow　suits　my　mind　and
disposition。　A　great　moral　power　has　stepped　in；　and　once　for　all
swept　what　we　call　chance　out　of　my　life。　We　have　the　property　to
develop；　our　home　to　beautify　and　adorn；　for　me　there　is　also　a
household　to　direct　and　sweeten　and　a　husband　to　reconcile　to　life。　In
all　probability　I　shall　have　a　family　to　look　after；　children　to
educate。

What　would　you　have？　Everyday　life　cannot　be　cast　in　heroic　mould。　No
doubt　there　seems；　at　any　rate　at　first　sight；　no　room　left　in　this
scheme　of　life　for　that　longing　after　the　infinite　which　expands　the
mind　and　soul。　But　what　is　there　to　prevent　me　from　launching　on　that
boundless　sea　our　familiar　craft？　Nor　must　you　suppose　that　the　humble
duties　to　which　I　dedicate　my　life　give　no　scope　for　passion。　To
restore　faith　in　happiness　to　an　unfortunate；　who　has　been　the　sport
of　adverse　circumstances；　is　a　noble　work；　and　one　which　alone　may
suffice　to　relieve　the　monotony　of　my　existence。　I　can　see　no　opening
left　for　suffering；　and　I　see　a　great　deal　of　good　to　be　done。　I　need
not　hide　from　you　that　the　love　I　have　for　Louis　de　l'Estorade　is　not
of　the　kind　which　makes　the　heart　throb　at　the　sound　of　a　step；　and
thrills　us　at　the　lightest　tones　of　a　voice；　or　the　caress　of　a
burning　glance；　but；　on　the　other　hand；　there　is　nothing　in　him　which
offends　me。

What　am　I　to　do；　you　will　ask；　with　that　instinct　for　all　which　is
great　and　noble；　with　those　mental　energies；　which　have　made　the　link
between　us；　and　which　we　still　possess？　I　admit　that　this　thought　has
troubled　me。　But　are　these　faculties　less　ours　because　we　keep　them
concealed；　using　them　only　in　secret　for　the　welfare　of　the　family；　as
instruments　to　produce　the　happiness　of　those　confided　to　our　care；　to
whom　we　are　bound　to　give　ourselves　without　reserve？　The　time　during
which　a　woman　can　look　for　admiration　is　short；　it　will　soon　be　past；
and　if　my　life　has　not　been　a　great　one；　it　will　at　least　have　been
calm；　tranquil；　free　from　shocks。

Nature　has　favored　our　sex　in　giving　us　a　choice　between　love　and
motherhood。　I　have　made　mine。　My　children　shall　be　my　gods；　and　this
spot　of　earth　my　Eldorado。

I　can　say　no　more　to…day。　Thank　you　much　for　all　the　things　you　have
sent　me。　Give　a　glance　at　my　needs　on　the　enclosed　list。　I　am
determined　to　live　in　an　atmosphere　of　refinement　and　luxury；　and　to
take　from　provincial　life　only　what　makes　its　charm。　In　solitude　a
woman　can　never　be　vulgarizedshe　remains　herself。　I　count　greatly　on
your　kindness　for　keeping　me　up　to　the　fashion。　My　father…in…law　is　so
delighted　that　he　can　refuse　me　nothing；　and　turns　his　house　upside
down。　We　are　getting　workpeople　from　Paris　and　renovating　everything。



X

MLLE。　DE　CHAULIEU　TO　MME。　DE　L'ESTORADE
January。

Oh！　Renee；　you　have　made　me　miserable　for　days！　So　that　bewitching
body；　those　beautiful　proud　features；　that　natural　grace　of　manner；
that　soul　full　of　priceless　gifts；　those　eyes；　where　the　soul　can
slake　its　thirst　as　at　a　fountain　of　love；　that　heart；　with　its
exquisite　delicacy；　that　breadth　of　mind；　those　rare　powersfruit　of
nature　and　of　our　interchange　of　thoughttreasures　whence　should
issue　a　unique　satisfaction　for　passion　and　desire；　hours　of　poetry　to
outweigh　years；　joys　to　make　a　man　serve　a　lifetime　for　one　gracious
gesture；all　this　is　to　be　buried　in　the　tedium　of　a　tame；
commonplace　marriage；　to　vanish　in　the　emptiness　of　an　existence　which
you　will　come　to　loath！　I　hate　your　children　before　they　are　born。
They　will　be　monsters！

So　you　know　all　that　lies　before　you；　you　have　nothing　left　to　hope；
or　fear；　or　suffer？　And　supposing　the　glorious　morning　rises　which
will　bring　you　face　to　face　with　the　man　destined　to　rouse　you　from
the　sleep　into　which　you　are　plunging！　。　。　。　Ah！　a　cold　shiver　goes
through　me　at　the　thought！

Well；　at　least　you　have　a　friend。　You；　it　is　understood；　are　to　be　the
guardian　angel　of　your　valley。　You　will　grow　familiar　with　its
beauties；　will　live　with　it　in　all　its　aspects；　till　the　grandeur　of
nature；　the　slow　growth　of　vegetation；　compared　with　the　lightning
rapidity　of　thought；　become　like　a　part　of　yourself；　and　as　your　eye
rests　on　the　laughing　flowers；　you　will　question　your　own　heart。　When
you　walk　between　your　husband；　silent　and　contented；　in　front；　and
your　children　screaming　and　romping　behind；　I　can　tell　you　beforehand
what　you　will　write　to　me。　Your　misty　valley；　your　hills；　bare　or
clothed　with　magnificent　trees；　your　meadow；　the　wonder　of　Provence；
with　its　fresh　water　dispersed　in　little　runlets；　the　different
effects　of　the　atmosphere；　this　whole　world　of　infinity　which　laps　you
round；　and　which　God　has　made　so　various；　will　recall　to　you　the
infinite　sameness　of　your　soul's　life。　But　at　least　I　shall　be　there；
my　Renee；　and　in　me　you　will　find　a　heart　which　no　social　pettiness
shall　ever　corrupt；　a　heart　all　your　own。

Monday。

My　dear；　my　Spaniard　is　quite　adorably　melancholy；　there　is　something
calm；　severe；　manly；　and　mysterious　about　him　which　interests　me
profoundly。　His　unvarying　solemnity　and　the　silence　which　envelops　him
act　like　an　irritant　on　the　mind。　His　mute　dignity　is　worthy　of　a
fallen　king。　Griffith　and　I　spend　our　time　over　him　as　though　he　were
a　riddle。

How　odd　it　is！　A　language…master　captures　my　fancy　as　no　other　man　has
done。　Yet　by　this　time　I　have　passed　in　review　all　the　young　men　of
family；　the　attaches　to　embassies；　and　the　ambassadors；　generals；　and
inferior　officers；　the　peers　of　France；　their　sons　and　nephews；　the
court；　and　the　town。

The　coldness　of　the　man　provokes　me。　The　sandy　waste　which　he　tries　to
place；　and　does　place；　between　us　is　covered　by　his　deeprooted　pride；
he　wraps　himself　in　mystery。　The　hanging　back　is　on　his　side；　the
boldness　on　mine。　This　odd　situation　affords　me　the　more　amusement
because　the　whole　thing　is　mere　trifling。　What　is　a　man；　a　Spaniard；
and　a　teacher　of　languages　to　me？　I　make　no　account　of　any　man
whatever；　were　he　a　king。　We　are　worth　far　more；　I　am　sure；　than　the
greatest　of　them。　What　a　slave　I　would　have　made　of　Napoleon！　If　he
had　loved　me；　shouldn't　he　have　felt　the　whip！

Yesterday　I　aimed　a　shaft　at　M。　Henarez　which　must　have　touched　him　to
the　quick。　He　made　no　reply；　the　lesson　was　over；　and　he　bowed　with　a
glance　at　me；　in　which　I　read　that　he　would　never　return。　This　suits
me　capitally；　there　would　be　something　ominous　in　starting　an
imitation　/Nouvelle　Heloise/。　I　have　just　been　reading　Rousseau's；　and
it　has　left　me　with　a　strong　distaste　for　love。　Passion　which　can
argue　and　moralize　seems　to　me　detestable。

Clarissa　also　is　much　too　pleased　with　herself　and　her　long；　little
letter；　but　Richardson's　work　is　an　admirable　pi