a woman of thirty-第18章

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ing　himself　at　his　post。　He　seemed　to　be　drawing　the　comparison　now　between　this　France　so　variable；　changing　even　as　you　study　her；　with　the　manners　and　aspects　of　that　other　land　known　to　him　as　yet　only　by　contradictory　hearsay　tales　or　books　of　travel；　for　the　most　part　unsatisfactory。　Thoughts　of　a　somewhat　poetical　cast；　albeit　hackneyed　and　trite　to　our　modern　ideas；　crossed　his　brain；　in　response　to　some　longing　of　which；　perhaps；　he　himself　was　hardly　conscious；　a　desire　in　the　depths　of　a　heart　fastidious　rather　than　jaded；　vacant　rather　than　seared。

〃These　are　the　wealthiest　and　most　fashionable　women　and　the　greatest　ladies　in　Paris；〃　he　said　to　himself。　〃These　are　the　great　men　of　the　day；　great　orators　and　men　of　letters；　great　names　and　titles；　artists　and　men　in　power；　and　yet　in　it　all　it　seems　to　me　as　if　there　were　nothing　but　petty　intrigues　and　still…born　loves；　meaningless　smiles　and　causeless　scorn；　eyes　lighted　by　no　flame　within；　brain…power　in　abundance　running　aimlessly　to　waste。　All　those　pink…and…white　faces　are　here　not　so　much　for　enjoyment；　as　to　escape　from　dulness。　None　of　the　emotion　is　genuine。　If　you　ask　for　nothing　but　court　feathers　properly　adjusted；　fresh　gauzes　and　pretty　toilettes　and　fragile；　fair　women；　if　you　desire　simply　to　skim　the　surface　of　life；　here　is　your　world　for　you。　Be　content　with　meaningless　phrases　and　fascinating　simpers；　and　do　not　ask　for　real　feeling。　For　my　own　part；　I　abhor　the　stale　intrigues　which　end　in　sub…prefectures　and　receiver…generals'　places　and　marriages；　or；　if　love　comes　into　the　question；　in　stealthy　compromises；　so　ashamed　are　we　of　the　mere　semblance　of　passion。　Not　a　single　one　of　all　these　eloquent　faces　tells　you　of　a　soul；　a　soul　wholly　absorbed　by　one　idea　as　by　remorse。　Regrets　and　misfortune　go　about　shame…facedly　clad　in　jests。　There　is　not　one　woman　here　whose　resistance　I　should　care　to　overcome；　not　one　who　could　drag　you　down　to　the　pit。　Where　will　you　find　energy　in　Paris？　A　poniard　here　is　a　curious　toy　to　hang　from　a　gilt　nail；　in　a　picturesque　sheath　to　match。　The　women；　the　brains；　and　hearts　of　Paris　are　all　on　a　par。　There　is　no　passion　left；　because　we　have　no　individuality。　High　birth　and　intellect　and　fortune　are　all　reduced　to　one　level；　we　all　have　taken　to　the　uniform　black　coat　by　way　of　mourning　for　a　dead　France。　There　is　no　love　between　equals。　Between　two　lovers　there　should　be　differences　to　efface；　wide　gulfs　to　fill。　The　charm　of　love　fled　from　us　in　1789。　Our　dulness　and　our　humdrum　lives　are　the　outcome　of　the　political　system。　Italy　at　any　rate　is　the　land　of　sharp　contrasts。　Woman　there　is　a　malevolent　animal；　a　dangerous　unreasoning　siren；　guided　only　by　her　tastes　and　appetites；　a　creature　no　more　to　be　trusted　than　a　tiger〃

Mme。　Firmiani　here　came　up　to　interrupt　this　soliloquy　made　up　of　vague；　conflicting；　and　fragmentary　thoughts　which　cannot　be　reproduced　in　words。　The　whole　charm　of　such　musing　lies　in　its　vaguenesswhat　is　it　but　a　sort　of　mental　haze？

〃I　want　to　introduce　you　to　some　one　who　has　the　greatest　wish　to　make　your　acquaintance；　after　all　that　she　has　heard　of　you；〃　said　the　lady；　taking　his　arm。

She　brought　him　into　the　next　room；　and　with　such　a　smile　and　glance　as　a　Parisienne　alone　can　give；　she　indicated　a　woman　sitting　by　the　hearth。

〃Who　is　she？〃　the　Comte　de　Vandenesse　asked　quickly。

〃You　have　heard　her　name　more　than　once　coupled　with　praise　or　blame。　She　is　a　woman　who　lives　in　seclusiona　perfect　mystery。〃

〃Oh！　if　ever　you　have　been　merciful　in　your　life；　for　pity's　sake　tell　me　her　name。〃

〃She　is　the　Marquise　d'Aiglemont。〃

〃I　will　take　lessons　from　her；　she　had　managed　to　make　a　peer　of　France　of　that　eminently　ordinary　person　her　husband；　and　a　dullard　into　a　power　in　the　land。　But；　pray　tell　me　this；　did　Lord　Grenville　die　for　her　sake；　do　you　think；　as　some　women　say？〃

〃Possibly。　Since　that　adventure；　real　or　imaginary；　she　is　very　much　changed；　poor　thing！　She　has　not　gone　into　society　since。　Four　years　of　constancythat　is　something　in　Paris。　If　she　is　here　to…night〃　Here　Mme。　Firmiani　broke　off；　adding　with　a　mysterious　expression；　〃I　am　forgetting　that　I　must　say　nothing。　Go　and　talk　with　her。〃

For　a　moment　Charles　stood　motionless；　leaning　lightly　against　the　frame　of　the　doorway；　wholly　absorbed　in　his　scrutiny　of　a　woman　who　had　become　famous；　no　one　exactly　knew　how　or　why。　Such　curious　anomalies　are　frequent　enough　in　the　world。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　reputation　was　certainly　no　more　extraordinary　than　plenty　of　other　great　reputations。　There　are　men　who　are　always　in　travail　of　some　great　work　which　never　sees　the　light；　statisticians　held　to　be　profound　on　the　score　of　calculations　which　they　take　very　good　care　not　to　publish；　politicians　who　live　on　a　newspaper　article；　men　of　letters　and　artists　whose　performances　are　never　given　to　the　world；　men　of　science；　much　as　Sganarelle　is　a　Latinist　for　those　who　know　no　Latin；　there　are　the　men　who　are　allowed　by　general　consent　to　possess　a　peculiar　capacity　for　some　one　thing；　be　it　for　the　direction　of　arts；　or　for　the　conduct　of　an　important　mission。　The　admirable　phrase；　〃A　man　with　a　special　subject；〃　might　have　been　invented　on　purpose　for　these　acephalous　species　in　the　domain　of　literature　and　politics。

Charles　gazed　longer　than　he　intended。　He　was　vexed　with　himself　for　feeling　so　strongly　interested；　it　is　true；　however；　that　the　lady's　appearance　was　a　refutation　of　the　young　man's　ballroom　generalizations。

The　Marquise　had　reached　her　thirtieth　year。　She　was　beautiful　in　spite　of　her　fragile　form　and　extremely　delicate　look。　Her　greatest　charm　lay　in　her　still　face；　revealing　unfathomed　depths　of　soul。　Some　haunting；　ever…present　thought　veiled；　as　it　were；　the　full　brilliance　of　eyes　which　told　of　a　fevered　life　and　boundless　resignation。　So　seldom　did　she　raise　the　eyelids　soberly　downcast；　and　so　listless　were　her　glances；　that　it　almost　seemed　as　if　the　fire　in　her　eyes　were　reserved　for　some　occult　contemplation。　Any　man　of　genius　and　feeling　must　have　felt　strangely　attracted　by　her　gentleness　and　silence。　If　the　mind　sought　to　explain　the　mysterious　problem　of　a　constant　inward　turning　from　the　present　to　the　past；　the　soul　was　no　less　interested　in　initiating　itself　into　the　secrets　of　a　heart　proud　in　some　sort　of　its　anguish。　Everything　about　her；　moreover；　was　in　keeping　with　these　thoughts　which　she　inspired。　Like　almost　all　women　who　have　very　long　hair；　she　was　very　pale　and　perfectly　white。　The　marvelous　fineness　of　her　skin　（that　almost　unerring　sign）　indicated　a　quick　sensibility　which　could　be　seen　yet　more　unmistakably　in　her　features；　there　was　the　same　minute　and　wonderful　delicacy　of　finish　in　them　that　the　Chinese　artist　gives　to　his　fantastic　figures。　Perhaps　her　neck　was　rather　too　long；　but　such　necks　belong　to　the　most　graceful　type；　and　suggest　vague　affinities　between　a　woman's　head　and　the　magnetic　curves　of　the　serpent。　Leave　not　a　single　one　of　the　thousand　signs　and　tokens　by　which　the　most　inscrutable　character　betrays　itself　to　an　observer　of　human　nature；　he　has　but　to　watch　carefully　the　little　movements　of　a　woman's　head；　the　ever…varying　expressive　turns　and　curves　of　her　neck　and　throat；　to　read　her　nature。

Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　dress　harmonized　with　the　haunting　thought　that　informed　the　whole　woman。　Her　hair　was　gathered　up　into　a　tall　coronet　of　broad　plaits；　without　ornament　of　any　kind；　she　seemed　to　have　bidden　farewell　for　ever　to　elaborate　toilettes。　Nor　were　any　of　the　small　arts　of　coquetry　which　spoil　so　many　women　to　be　detected　in　her。　Perhaps　her　bodice；　modest　though　it　was；　did　not　altogether　conceal　the　dainty　grace　of　her　figure；　perhaps；　too；　her　gown　looked　rich　from　the　extreme　distinction　of　its　fashion；　and　if　it　is　permissible　to　look　for　expression　in　the　arrangement　of　stuffs；　surely　those　numerous　straight　folds　invested　her　with　a　great　dignity。　There　may　have　been　some　lingering　trace　of　the　indelible　feminine　foible　in　the　minute　care　bestowed　upon　her　hand　and　foot；　yet；　if　she　allowed　them　to　be　seen　with　some　pleasure；　it　would　have　tasked　the　utmost　malice　of　a　rival　to　discover　any　affectation　in　her　gestures；　so　natural　did　they　seem；　so　much　a　part　of　old　childish　habit；　that　her　careless　grace　absolved　this　vestige　of　vanity。

All　these　little　characteristics；　the　nameless　trifles　which　combine　to　make　up　the　sum　of　a　woman's　prettiness　or　ugliness；　her　charm　or　lack　of　charm；　can　only　be　indicated；　when；　as　with　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　a　personality　dominates　and　gives　coherence　to　the　details；　informing　them；　blending　them　all　in　an　exquisite　whole。　Her　manner　was　perfectly　in　accord　with　her　style　of　beauty　and　her　dress。　Only　to　certain　women　at　a　certain　age　is　it　given　to　put　language　into　their　attitude。　Is　it　joy　or　is　it　sorrow　that　teaches　a　woman　of　thirty　the　secret　of　that　eloquence　of　carriage；　so　that　she　must　always　remain　an　enigma　which　each　interprets　by　the　aid　of　his　hopes；　desires；　or　theories？

The　way　in　which　the　Marquise　leaned　both　elbows　on　the　arm　of　her　chair；　the　toying　of　her　interclasped　fingers；　the　curve　of　her　throat；　the　indolent　lines　of　her　languid　but　lissome　body　as　she　lay　back　in　graceful　exhaustion；　as　it　were；　her　indolent　limbs；　her　unstudied　pose；　the　utter　lassitude　of　her　movements；all　suggested　that　this　was　a　woman　for　whom　life　had　lost　its　interest；　a　woman　who　had　known　the　joys　of　love　only　in　dreams；　a　woman　bowed　down　by　the　burden　of　memories　of　the　past；　a　woman　who　had　long　since　despaired　of　the　future　and　despaired　of　herself；　an　unoccupied　woman　who　took　the　emptiness　of　her　own　life　for　the　nothingness　of　life。

Charles　de　Vandenesse　saw　and　admired　the　beautiful　picture　before　him；　as　a　kind　of　artistic　success　beyond　an　ordinary　woman's　powers　of　attainment。　He　was　acquainted　with　d'Aiglemont；　and　now；　at　the　first　sight　of　d'Aiglemont's　wife；　the　young　diplomatist　saw　at　a　glance　a　disproportionate　marriage；　an　incompatibility　（to　use　the　legal　jargon）　so　great　that　it　was　impossible　that　the　Marquise　should　love　her　husband。　And　yetthe　Marquise　d'Aiglemont's　life　was　above　reproach；　and　for　any　observer　the　mystery　about　her　was　the　more　interesting　on　this　account。　The　first　impulse　of　surprise　over；　Vandenesse　cast　about　for　the　best　way　of　approaching　Mme。　d'Aiglemont。　He　would　try　a　commonplace　piece　of　diplomacy；　he　thought；　he　would　disconcert　her　by　a　piece　of　clumsiness　and　see　how　she　would　receive　it。

〃Madame；〃　he　said；　seating　himself　near　her；　〃through　a　fortunate　indiscretion　I　have　learned　that；　for　some　reason　unknown　to　me；　I　have　had　the　good　fortune　to　attract　your　notice。　I　owe　you　the　more　thanks　because　I　have　never　been　so　honored　before。　At　the　same　time；　you　are　responsible　for　one　of　my　faults；　for　I　mean　never　to　be　modest　again〃

〃You　will　make　a　mistake；　monsieur；〃　she　laughed；　〃vanity　should　be　left　to　those　who　have　nothing　else　to　recommend　them。〃

The　conversation　thus　opened　ranged　at　large；　in　the　usual　way；　over　a　multitude　of　topicsart　and　literature；　politics；　men　and　things　till　insensibly　they　fell　to　talking　of　the　eternal　theme　in　France　and　all　the　world　overlove；　sentiment；　and　women。

〃We　are　bon