the lily of the valley-第42章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



underbrush　with　the　rapidity　of　an　arrow。



〃Drive　on　quickly　to　Clochegourde；〃　cried　the　countess；　to　whom　that

cutting　look　was　like　the　blow　of　an　axe　upon　her　heart。



The　coachman　turned　to　get　upon　the　road　to　Chinon　which　was　better

than　that　to　Sache。　As　the　carriage　again　approached　the　moor　we　heard

the　furious　galloping　of　Arabella's　horse　and　the　steps　of　her　dog。

All　three　were　skirting　the　wood　behind　the　bushes。



〃She　is　going；　you　will　lose　her　forever；〃　said　Henriette。



〃Let　her　go；〃　I　answered；　〃and　without　a　regret。〃



〃Oh；　poor　woman！〃　cried　the　countess；　with　a　sort　of　compassionate

horror。　〃Where　will　she　go？〃



〃Back　to　La　Grenadiere；a　little　house　near　Saint…Cyr；〃　I　said；

〃where　she　is　staying。〃



Just　as　we　were　entering　the　avenue　of　Clochegourde　Arabella's　dog

barked　joyfully　and　bounded　up　to　the　carriage。



〃She　is　here　before　us！〃　cried　the　countess；　then　after　a　pause　she

added；　〃I　have　never　seen　a　more　beautiful　woman。　What　a　hand　and　what

a　figure！　Her　complexion　outdoes　the　lily；　her　eyes　are　literally

bright　as　diamonds。　But　she　rides　too　well；　she　loves　to　display　her

strength；　I　think　her　violent　and　too　active；also　too　bold　for　our

conventions。　The　woman　who　recognizes　no　law　is　apt　to　listen　only　to

her　caprices。　Those　who　seek　to　shine；　to　make　a　stir；　have　not　the

gift　of　constancy。　Love　needs　tranquillity；　I　picture　it　to　myself

like　a　vast　lake　in　which　the　lead　can　find　no　bottom；　where　tempests

may　be　violent；　but　are　rare　and　controlled　within　certain　limits；

where　two　beings　live　on　a　flowery　isle　far　from　the　world　whose

luxury　and　display　offend　them。　Still；　love　must　take　the　imprint　of

the　character。　Perhaps　I　am　wrong。　If　nature's　elements　are　compelled

to　take　certain　forms　determined　by　climate；　why　is　it　not　the　same

with　the　feelings　of　individuals？　No　doubt　sentiments；　feelings；　which

hold　to　the　general　law　in　the　mass；　differ　in　expression　only。　Each

soul　has　its　own　method。　Lady　Dudley　is　the　strong　woman　who　can

traverse　distances　and　act　with　the　vigor　of　a　man；　she　would　rescue

her　lover　and　kill　jailers　and　guards；　while　other　women　can　only　love

with　their　whole　souls；　in　moments　of　danger　they　kneel　down　to　pray；

and　die。　Which　of　the　two　women　suits　you　best？　That　is　the　question。

Yes；　yes；　Lady　Dudley　must　surely　love；　she　has　made　many　sacrifices。

Perhaps　she　will　love　you　when　you　have　ceased　to　love　her！〃



〃Dear　angel；〃　I　said；　〃let　me　ask　the　question　you　asked　me；　how　is　it

that　you　know　these　things？〃



〃Every　sorrow　teaches　a　lesson；　and　I　have　suffered　on　so　many　points

that　my　knowledge　is　vast。〃



My　servant　had　heard　the　order　given；　and　thinking　we　should　return　by

the　terraces　he　held　my　horse　ready　for　me　in　the　avenue。　Arabella's

dog　had　scented　the　horse；　and　his　mistress；　drawn　by　very　natural

curiosity；　had　followed　the　animal　through　the　woods　to　the　avenue。



〃Go　and　make　your　peace；〃　said　Henriette；　smiling　without　a　tinge　of

sadness。　〃Say　to　Lady　Dudley　how　much　she　mistakes　my　intention；　I

wished　to　show　her　the　true　value　of　the　treasure　which　has　fallen　to

her；　my　heart　holds　none　but　kind　feelings；　above　all　neither　anger

nor　contempt。　Explain　to　her　that　I　am　her　sister；　and　not　her　rival。〃



〃I　shall　not　go；〃　I　said。



〃Have　you　never　discovered；〃　she　said　with　lofty　pride；　〃that　certain

propitiations　are　insulting？　Go！〃



I　rode　towards　Lady　Dudley　wishing　to　know　the　state　of　her　mind。　〃If

she　would　only　be　angry　and　leave　me；〃　I　thought；　〃I　could　return　to

Clochegourde。〃



The　dog　led　me　to　an　oak；　from　which；　as　I　came　up；　Arabella　galloped

crying　out　to　me；　〃Come！　away！　away！〃　All　that　I　could　do　was　to

follow　her　to　Saint　Cyr；　which　we　reached　about　midnight。



〃That　lady　is　in　perfect　health；〃　said　Arabella　as　she　dismounted。



Those　who　know　her　can　alone　imagine　the　satire　contained　in　that

remark；　dryly　said　in　a　tone　which　meant；　〃I　should　have　died！〃



〃I　forbid　you　to　utter　any　of　your　sarcasms　about　Madame　de　Mortsauf；〃

I　said。



〃Do　I　displease　your　Grace　in　remarking　upon　the　perfect　health　of　one

so　dear　to　your　precious　heart？　Frenchwomen　hate；　so　I　am　told；　even

their　lover's　dog。　In　England　we　love　all　that　our　masters　love；　we

hate　all　they　hate；　because　we　are　flesh　of　their　flesh。　Permit　me

therefore　to　love　this　lady　as　much　as　you　yourself　love　her。　Only；　my

dear　child；〃　she　added；　clasping　me　in　her　arms　which　were　damp　with

rain；　〃if　you　betray　me；　I　shall　not　be　found　either　lying　down　or

standing　up；　not　in　a　carriage　with　liveried　lackeys；　nor　on　horseback

on　the　moors　of　Charlemagne；　nor　on　any　other　moor　beneath　the　skies；

nor　in　my　own　bed；　nor　beneath　a　roof　of　my　forefathers；　I　shall　not

be　anywhere；　for　I　will　live　no　longer。　I　was　born　in　Lancashire；　a

country　where　women　die　for　love。　Know　you；　and　give　you　up？　I　will

yield　you　to　none；　not　even　to　Death；　for　I　should　die　with　you。〃



She　led　me　to　her　rooms；　where　comfort　had　already　spread　its　charms。



〃Love　her；　dear；〃　I　said　warmly。　〃She　loves　you　sincerely；　not　in

jest。〃



〃Sincerely！　you　poor　child！〃　she　said；　unfastening　her　habit。



With　a　lover's　vanity　I　tried　to　exhibit　Henriette's　noble　character

to　this　imperious　creature。　While　her　waiting…woman；　who　did　not

understand　a　word　of　French；　arranged　her　hair　I　endeavored　to　picture

Madame　de　Mortsauf　by　sketching　her　life；　I　repeated　many　of　the　great

thoughts　she　had　uttered　at　a　crisis　when　nearly　all　women　become

either　petty　or　bad。　Though　Arabella　appeared　to　be　paying　no

attention　she　did　not　lose　a　single　word。



〃I　am　delighted；〃　she　said　when　we　were　alone；　〃to　learn　your　taste

for　pious　conversation。　There's　an　old　vicar　on　one　of　my　estates　who

understands　writing　sermons　better　than　any　one　I　know；　the　country…

people　like　him；　for　he　suits　his　prosing　to　his　hearers。　I'll　write

to　my　father　to…morrow　and　ask　him　to　send　the　good　man　here　by

steamboat；　you　can　meet　him　in　Paris；　and　when　once　you　have　heard　him

you　will　never　wish　to　listen　to　any　one　else；all　the　more　because

his　health　is　perfect。　His　moralities　won't　give　you　shocks　that　make

you　weep；　they　flow　along　without　tempests；　like　a　limpid　stream；　and

will　send　you　to　sleep。　Every　evening　you　can　if　you　like　satisfy　your

passion　for　sermons　by　digesting　one　with　your　dinner。　English

morality；　I　do　assure　you；　is　as　superior　to　that　of　Touraine　as　our

cutlery；　our　plate；　and　our　horses　are　to　your　knives　and　your　turf。

Do　me　the　kindness　to　listen　to　my　vicar；　promise　me。　I　am　only　a

woman；　my　dearest；　I　can　love；　I　can　die　for　you　if　you　will；　but　I

have　never　studied　at　Eton；　or　at　Oxford；　or　in　Edinburgh。　I　am

neither　a　doctor　of　laws　nor　a　reverend；　I　can't　preach　morality；　in

fact；　I　am　altogether　unfit　for　it；　I　should　be　awkward　if　I　tried。　I

don't　blame　your　tastes；　you　might　have　others　more　depraved；　and　I

should　still　endeavor　to　conform　to　them；　for　I　want　you　to　find　near

me　all　you　like　best；pleasures　of　love；　pleasures　of　food；　pleasures

of　piety；　good　claret；　and　virtuous　Christians。　Shall　I　wear　hair…

cloth　to…night？　She　is　very　lucky；　that　woman；　to　suit　you　in

morality。　From　what　college　did　she　graduate？　Poor　I；　who　can　only

give　you　myself；　who　can　only　be　your　slave〃



〃Then　why　did　you　rush　away　when　I　wanted　to　bring　you　together？〃



〃Are　you　crazy；　Amedee？　I　could　go　from　Paris　to　Rome　disguised　as　a

valet；　I　would　do　the　most　unreasonable　thing　for　your　sake；　but　how

can　you　expect　me　to　speak　to　a　woman　on　the　public　roads　who　has

never　been　presented　to　me；and　who；　besides；　would　have　preached　me

a　sermon　under　three　heads？　I　speak　to　peasants；　and　if　I　am　hungry　I

would　ask　a　workman　to　share　his　bread　with　me　and　pay　him　in　guineas；

that　is　all　proper　enough；　but　to　stop　a　carriage　on　the　highway；

like　the　gentlemen　of　the　road　in　England；　is　not　at　all　within　my

code　of　manners。　You　poor　child；　you　know　only　how　to　love；　you　don't

know　how　to　live。　Besides；　I　am　not　like　you　as　yet；　dear　angel；　I

don't　like　morality。　Still；　I　am　capable　of　great　efforts　to　please

you。　Yes；　I　will　go　to　work；　I　will　learn　how　to　preach；　you　shall

have　no　more　kisses　without　verses　of　the　Bible　interlarded。〃



She　used　her　power　and　abused　it　as　soon　as　she　saw　in　my　eyes　the

ardent　expression　which　was　always　there　when　she　began　her　sorceries。

She　triumphed　over　everything；　and　I　complacently　told　myself　that　the

woman　who　loses　all；　sacrifices　the　future；　and　makes　love　her　only

virtue；　is　far　above　Catholic　polemics。



〃So　she　loves　herself　better　than　she　loves　you？〃　Arabella　went　on。

〃She　sets　something　that　is　not　you　above　you。　Is　that　love？　how　can

we　women　find　anything　to　value　in　ourselves　except　that　which　you

value　in　us？　No　woman；　no　matter　how　fine　a　moralist　she　may　be；　is

the　equal　of　a　man。　Tread　upon　us；　kill　us；　never　embarrass　your　lives

on　our　account。　It　is　for　us　to　die；　for　you　to　live；　great　and

honored。　For　us　the　dagger　in　your　hand；　for　you　our　pardoning　love。

Does　the　sun　think　of　the　gnats　in　his　beams；　that　live　by　his　light？

they　stay　as　long　as　they　can　and　when　he　withdraws　his　face　they

die〃



〃Or　fly　somewhere　else；〃　I　said　interrupting　her。



〃Yes；　somewhere　else；〃　she　replied；　with　an　indifference　that　would

have　piqued　any　man　into　using　the　power　with　which　she　invested　him。

〃Do　you　really　think　it　is　worthy　of　womanhood　to　make　a　man　eat　his

bread　buttered　with　virtue；　and　to　persuade　him　that　religion　is

incompatible　with　love？　Am　I　a　reprobate？　A　woman　either　gives　herself

or　she　refuses。　But　to　refuse　and　moralize　is　a　double　wrong；　and　is

contrary　to　the　rule　of　the　right　in　all　lands。　Here；　you　will　get

only　excellent　sandwiches　prepared　by　the　hand　of　your　servant

Arabella；　whose　sole　morality　is　to　imagine　caresses　no　man　has　yet

felt　and　which　the　angels　inspire。〃



I　know　nothing　more　destructive　than　the　wit　of　an　Englishwoman；　she

gives　it　the　eloquent　gravity；　the　tone　of　pompous　conviction　with

which　the　British　hide　the　absurdities　of　their　life　of　prejudice。

French　wit　and　humor；　on　the　other　hand；　is　like　a　lace　with　which　our

women　adorn　the　joys　they　give　and　the　quarrels　they　invent；　it　is　a

mental　jewelry；　as　charming　as　their　pretty　dresses。　English　wit　is　an

acid　which　corrodes　all　those　on　whom　it　falls　until　it　bares　their

bones；　which　it　scrapes　and　polishes。　The　tongue　of　a　clever

Englishwoman　is　like　that　of　a　tiger　tearing　the　flesh　from　the　bone

when　he　is　only　in　play。　All…powerful　weapon　of　a　sneering　devil；

English　satire　leaves　a　deadly　poison　in　the　wound　it　makes。　Arabella

chose　to　show　her　power　like　the　sultan　who；　to　prove　his　dexterity；

cut　off　the　heads　of　unoffending　beings　with　his　own　scimitar。



〃My　angel；〃　she　said；　〃I　can　talk　morality　too　if　I　choose。　I　have

asked　m