the lily of the valley(幽谷百合)-第43章

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But　later；　when　two　lovers　are　accustomed　to　each　other；　the　features
of　their　moral　physiognomies　reappear；　they　mutually　judge　each　other；
and　it　often　happens　during　this　reaction　of　the　character　after
passion；　that　natural　antipathies　leading　to　disunion　（which
superficial　people　seize　upon　to　accuse　the　human　heart　of
instability）　come　to　the　surface。　This　period　now　began　with　me。　Less
blinded　by　seductions；　and　dissecting；　as　it　were；　my　pleasure；　I
undertook；　without　perhaps　intending　to　do　so；　a　critical　examination
of　Lady　Dudley　which　resulted　to　her　injury。

In　the　first　place；　I　found　her　wanting　in　the　qualities　of　mind　which
distinguish　Frenchwomen　and　make　them　so　delightful　to　love；　as　all
those　who　have　had　the　opportunity　of　loving　in　both　countries
declare。　When　a　Frenchwoman　loves　she　is　metamorphosed；　her　noted
coquetry　is　used　to　deck　her　love；　she　abandons　her　dangerous　vanity
and　lays　no　claim　to　any　merit　but　that　of　loving　well。　She　espouses
the　interests；　the　hatreds；　the　friendships；　of　the　man　she　loves；　she
acquires　in　a　day　the　experience　of　a　man　of　business；　she　studies　the
code；　she　comprehends　the　mechanism　of　credit；　and　could　manage　a
banker's　office；　naturally　heedless　and　prodigal；　she　will　make　no
mistakes　and　waste　not　a　single　louis。　She　becomes；　in　turn；　mother；
adviser；　doctor；　giving　to　all　her　transformations　a　grace　of
happiness　which　reveals；　in　its　every　detail；　her　infinite　love。　She
combines　the　special　qualities　of　the　women　of　other　countries　and
gives　unity　to　the　mixture　by　her　wit；　that　truly　French　product；
which　enlivens；　sanctions；　justifies；　and　varies　all；　thus　relieving
the　monotony　of　a　sentiment　which　rests　on　a　single　tense　of　a　single
verb。　The　Frenchwoman　loves　always；　without　abatement　and　without
fatigue；　in　public　or　in　solitude。　In　public　she　uses　a　tone　which　has
meaning　for　one　only；　she　speaks　by　silence；　she　looks　at　you　with
lowered　eyelids。　If　the　occasion　prevents　both　speech　and　look　she
will　use　the　sand　and　write　a　word　with　the　point　of　her　little　foot；
her　love　will　find　expression　even　in　sleep；　in　short；　she　bends　the
world　to　her　love。　The　Englishwoman；　on　the　contrary；　makes　her　love
bend　to　the　world。　Educated　to　maintain　the　icy　manners；　the　Britannic
and　egotistic　deportment　which　I　described　to　you；　she　opens　and　shuts
her　heart　with　the　ease　of　a　British　mechanism。　She　possesses　an
impenetrable　mask；　which　she　puts　on　or　takes　off　phlegmatically。
Passionate　as　an　Italian　when　no　eye　sees　her；　she　becomes　coldly
dignified　before　the　world。　A　lover　may　well　doubt　his　empire　when　he
sees　the　immobility　of　face；　the　aloofness　of　countenance；　and　hears
the　calm　voice；　with　which　an　Englishwoman　leaves　her　boudoir。
Hypocrisy　then　becomes　indifference；　she　has　forgotten　all。

Certainly　the　woman　who　can　lay　aside　her　love　like　a　garment　may　be
thought　to　be　capable　of　changing　it。　What　tempests　arise　in　the　heart
of　a　man；　stirred　by　wounded　self…love；　when　he　sees　a　woman　taking
and　dropping　and　again　picking　up　her　love　like　a　piece　of　embroidery。
These　women　are　too　completely　mistresses　of　themselves　ever　to　belong
wholly　to　you；　they　are　too　much　under　the　influence　of　society　ever
to　let　you　reign　supreme。　Where　a　Frenchwoman　comforts　by　a　look；　or
betrays　her　impatience　with　visitors　by　witty　jests；　an　Englishwoman's
silence　is　absolute；　it　irritates　the　soul　and　frets　the　mind。　These
women　are　so　constantly；　and；　under　all　circumstances；　on　their
dignity；　that　to　most　of　them　fashion　reigns　omnipotent　even　over
their　pleasures。　An　Englishwoman　forces　everything　into　form；　though
in　her　case　the　love　of　form　does　not　produce　the　sentiment　of　art。　No
matter　what　may　be　said　against　it；　Protestantism　and　Catholicism
explain　the　differences　which　make　the　love　of　Frenchwomen　so　far
superior　to　the　calculating；　reasoning　love　of　Englishwomen。
Protestantism　doubts；　searches；　and　kills　belief；　it　is　the　death　of
art　and　love。　Where　worldliness　is　all　in　all；　worldly　people　must
needs　obey；　but　passionate　hearts　flee　from　it；　to　them　its　laws　are
insupportable。

You　can　now　understand　what　a　shock　my　self…love　received　when　I　found
that　Lady　Dudley　could　not　live　without　the　world；　and　that　the
English　system　of　two　lives　was　familiar　to　her。　It　was　no　sacrifice
she　felt　called　upon　to　make；　on　the　contrary　she　fell　naturally　into
two　forms　of　life　that　were　inimical　to　each　other。　When　she　loved　she
loved　madly；no　woman　of　any　country　could　be　compared　to　her；　but
when　the　curtain　fell　upon　that　fairy　scene　she　banished　even　the
memory　of　it。　In　public　she　never　answered　to　a　look　or　a　smile；　she
was　neither　mistress　nor　slave；　she　was　like　an　ambassadress；　obliged
to　round　her　phrases　and　her　elbows；　she　irritated　me　by　her
composure；　and　outraged　my　heart　with　her　decorum。　Thus　she　degraded
love　to　a　mere　need；　instead　of　raising　it　to　an　ideal　through
enthusiasm。　She　expressed　neither　fear；　nor　regrets；　nor　desire；　but
at　a　given　hour　her　tenderness　reappeared　like　a　fire　suddenly
lighted。

In　which　of　these　two　women　ought　I　to　believe？　I　felt；　as　it　were　by
a　thousand　pin…pricks；　the　infinite　differences　between　Henriette　and
Arabella。　When　Madame　de　Mortsauf　left　me　for　a　while　she　seemed　to
leave　to　the　air　the　duty　of　reminding　me　of　her；　the　folds　of　her
gown　as　she　went　away　spoke　to　the　eye；　as　their　undulating　sound　to
the　ear　when　she　returned；　infinite　tenderness　was　in　the　way　she
lowered　her　eyelids　and　looked　on　the　ground；　her　voice；　that　musical
voice；　was　a　continual　caress；　her　words　expressed　a　constant　thought；
she　was　always　like　unto　herself；　she　did　not　halve　her　soul　to　suit
two　atmospheres；　one　ardent；　the　other　icy。　In　short；　Madame　de
Mortsauf　reserved　her　mind　and　the　flower　of　her　thought　to　express
her　feelings；　she　was　coquettish　in　ideas　with　her　children　and　with
me。　But　Arabella's　mind　was　never　used　to　make　life　pleasant；　it　was
never　used　at　all　for　my　benefit；　it　existed　only　for　the　world　and　by
the　world；　and　it　was　spent　in　sarcasm。　She　loved　to　rend；　to　bite；　as
it　were；not　for　amusement　but　to　satisfy　a　craving。　Madame　de
Mortsauf　would　have　hidden　her　happiness　from　every　eye；　Lady　Dudley
chose　to　exhibit　hers　to　all　Paris；　and　yet　with　her　impenetrable
English　mask　she　kept　within　conventions　even　while　parading　in　the
Bois　with　me。　This　mixture　of　ostentation　and　dignity；　love　and
coldness；　wounded　me　constantly；　for　my　soul　was　both　virgin　and
passionate；　and　as　I　could　not　pass　from　one　temperature　to　the　other；
my　temper　suffered。　When　I　complained　（never　without　precaution）；　she
turned　her　tongue　with　its　triple　sting　against　me；　mingling　boasts　of
her　love　with　those　cutting　English　sarcasms。　As　soon　as　she　found
herself　in　opposition　to　me；　she　made　it　an　amusement　to　hurt　my
feelings　and　humiliate　my　mind；　she　kneaded　me　like　dough。　To　any
remark　of　mine　as　to　keeping　a　medium　in　all　things；　she　replied　by
caricaturing　my　ideas　and　exaggerating　them。　When　I　reproached　her　for
her　manner　to　me；　she　asked　if　I　wished　her　to　kiss　me　at　the　opera
before　all　Paris；　and　she　said　it　so　seriously　that　I；　knowing　her
desire　to　make　people　talk；　trembled　lest　she　should　execute　her
threat。　In　spite　of　her　real　passion　she　was　never　meditative；　self…
contained；　or　reverent；　like　Henriette；　on　the　contrary　she　was
insatiable　as　a　sandy　soil。　Madame　de　Mortsauf　was　always　composed；
able　to　feel　my　soul　in　an　accent　or　a　glance。　Lady　Dudley　was　never
affected　by　a　look；　or　a　pressure　of　the　hand；　nor　yet　by　a　tender
word。　No　proof　of　love　surprised　her。　She　felt　so　strong　a　necessity
for　excitement；　noise；　celebrity；　that　nothing　attained　to　her　ideal
in　this　respect；　hence　her　violent　love；　her　exaggerated　fancy；
everything　concerned　herself　and　not　me。

The　letter　you　have　read　from　Madame　de　Mortsauf　（a　light　which　still
shone　brightly　on　my　life）；　a　proof　of　how　the　most　virtuous　of　women
obeyed　the　genius　of　a　Frenchwoman；　revealing；　as　it　did；　her
perpetual　vigilance；　her　sound　understanding　of　all　my　prospectsthat
letter　must　have　made　you　see　with　what　care　Henriette　had　studied　my
material　interests；　my　political　relations；　my　moral　conquests；　and
with　what　ardor　she　took　hold　of　my　life　in　all　permissible
directions。　On　such　points　as　these　Lady　Dudley　affected　the　reticence
of　a　mere　acquaintance。　She　never　informed　herself　about　my　affairs；
nor　of　my　likings　or　dislikings　as　a　man。　Prodigal　for　herself　without
being　generous；　she　separated　too　decidedly　self…interest　and　love。
Whereas　I　knew　very　well；　without　proving　it；　that　to　save　me　a　pang
Henriette　would　have　sought　for　me　that　which　she　would　never　seek　for
herself。　In　any　great　and　overwhelming　misfortune　I　should　have　gone
for　counsel　to　Henriette；　but　I　would　have　let　myself　be　dragged　to
prison　sooner　than　say　a　word　to　Lady　Dudley。

Up　to　this　point　the　contrast　relates　to　feelings；　but　it　was　the　same
in　outward　things。　In　France；　luxury　is　the　expression　of　the　man；　the
reproduction　of　his　ideas；　of　his　personal　poetry；　it　portrays　the
character；　and　gives；　between　lovers；　a　precious　value　to　every　little
attention　by　keeping　before　them　the　dominant　thought　of　the　being
loved。　But　English　luxury；　which　at　first　allured　me　by　its　choiceness
and　delicacy；　proved　to　be　mechanical　also。　The　thousand　and　one
attentions　shown　me　at　Clochegourde　Arabella　would　have　considered　the
business　of　servants；　each　one　had　his　own　duty　and　speciality。　The
choice　of　the　footman　was　the　business　of　her　butler；　as　if　it　were　a
matter　of　horses。　She　never　attached　herself　to　her　servants；　the
death　of　the　best　of　them　would　not　have　affected　her；　for　money　could
replace　the　one　lost　by　another　equally　efficient。　As　to　her　duty
towards　her　neighbor；　I　never　saw　a　tear　in　her　eye　for　the
misfortunes　of　another；　in　fact　her　selfishness　was　so　naively　candid
that　it　absolutely　created　a　laugh。　The　crimson　draperies　of　the　great
lady　covered　an　iron　nature。　The　delightful　siren　who　sounded　at　night
every　bell　of　her　amorous　folly　could　soon　make　a　young　man　forget　the
hard　and　unfeeling　Englishwoman；　and　it　was　only　step　by　step　that　I
discovered　the　stony　rock　on　which　my　seeds　were　wasted；　bringing　no
harvest。　Madame　de　Mortsauf　had　penetrated　that　nature　at　a　glance　in
their　brief　encounter。　I　remembered　her　prophetic　words。　She　was
right；　Arabella's　love　became　intolerable　to　me。　I　have　since　remarked
that　most　women　who　ride　well　on　horseback　have　little　tenderness。
Like　the　Amazons；　they　lack　a　breast；　their　hearts　are　hard　in　some
direction；　but　I　do　not　know　in　which。

At　the　moment　when　I　begin　to　feel　the　burden　of　the　yoke；　when
weariness　took　possession　of　soul　and　body　too；　when　at　last　I
comprehended　the　sanctity　that　true　feeling　imparts　to　love；　when
memories　of　Clochegourde　were　bringing　me；　in　spite　of　distance；　the
fragrance　of　the　roses；　the　warmth　of　the　terrace；　and　the　warble　of
the　nightingales；at　this　frightful　moment；　when　I　saw　the　stony　bed
beneath　me　as　the　waters　of　the　torrent　receded；　I　received　a　blow
which　still　resounds　in　my　heart；　for　at　every　hour　its　echo　wak