the lily of the valley-第44章

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avenue；　looking　back　again　and　again　at　Madame　de　Mortsauf；　as　she

leaned　against　a　tree　surrounded　by　her　children　who　waved　their

handkerchiefs；　I　detected　in　my　soul　an　emotion　of　pride　in　finding

myself　the　arbiter　of　two　such　destinies；　the　glory；　in　ways　so

different；　of　women　so　distinguished；　proud　of　inspiring　such　great

passions　that　death　must　come　to　whichever　I　abandoned。　Ah！　believe

me；　that　passing　conceit　has　been　doubly　punished！



I　know　not　what　demon　prompted　me　to　remain　with　Arabella　and　await

the　moment　when　the　death　of　the　count　might　give　me　Henriette；　for

she　would　ever　love　me。　Her　harshness；　her　tears；　her　remorse；　her

Christian　resignation；　were　so　many　eloquent　signs　of　a　sentiment　that

could　no　more　be　effaced　from　her　heart　than　from　mine。　Walking　slowly

down　that　pretty　avenue　and　making　these　reflections；　I　was　no　longer

twenty…five；　I　was　fifty　years　old。　A　man　passes　in　a　moment；　even

more　quickly　than　a　woman；　from　youth　to　middle　age。　Though　long　ago　I

drove　these　evil　thoughts　away　from　me；　I　was　then　possessed　by　them；

I　must　avow　it。　Perhaps　I　owed　their　presence　in　my　mind　to　the

Tuileries；　to　the　king's　cabinet。　Who　could　resist　the　polluting

spirit　of　Louis　XVIII。？



When　I　reached　the　end　of　the　avenue　I　turned　and　rushed　back　in　the

twinkling　of　an　eye；　seeing　that　Henriette　was　still　there；　and　alone！

I　went　to　bid　her　a　last　farewell；　bathed　in　repentant　tears；　the

cause　of　which　she　never　knew。　Tears　sincere　indeed；　given；　although　I

knew　it　not；　to　noble　loves　forever　lost；　to　virgin　emotionsthose

flowers　of　our　life　which　cannot　bloom　again。　Later；　a　man　gives

nothing；　he　receives；　he　loves　himself　in　his　mistress；　but　in　youth

he　loves　his　mistress　in　himself。　Later；　we　inoculate　with　our　tastes；

perhaps　our　vices；　the　woman　who　loves　us；　but　in　the　dawn　of　life　she

whom　we　love　conveys　to　us　her　virtues；　her　conscience。　She　invites　us

with　a　smile　to　the　noble　life；　from　her　we　learn　the　self…devotion

which　she　practises。　Woe　to　the　man　who　has　not　had　his　Henriette。　Woe

to　that　other　one　who　has　never　known　a　Lady　Dudley。　The　latter；　if　he

marries；　will　not　be　able　to　keep　his　wife；　the　other　will　be

abandoned　by　his　mistress。　But　joy　to　him　who　can　find　the　two　women

in　one　woman；　happy　the　man；　dear　Natalie；　whom　you　love。



After　my　return　to　Paris　Arabella　and　I　became　more　intimate　than

ever。　Soon　we　insensibly　abandoned　all　the　conventional　restrictions　I

had　carefully　imposed；　the　strict　observance　of　which　often　makes　the

world　forgive　the　false　position　in　which　Lady　Dudley　had　placed

herself。　Society；　which　delights　in　looking　behind　appearances；

sanctions　much　as　soon　as　it　knows　the　secrets　they　conceal。　Lovers

who　live　in　the　great　world　make　a　mistake　in　flinging　down　these

barriers　exacted　by　the　law　of　salons；　they　do　wrong　not　to　obey

scrupulously　all　conventions　which　the　manners　and　customs　of　a

community　impose；less　for　the　sake　of　others　than　for　their　own。

Outward　respect　to　be　maintained；　comedies　to　play；　concealments　to　be

managed；　all　such　strategy　of　love　occupies　the　life；　renews　desire；

and　protects　the　heart　against　the　palsy　of　habit。　But　all　young

passions；　being；　like　youth　itself；　essentially　spendthrift；　raze

their　forests　to　the　ground　instead　of　merely　cutting　the　timber。

Arabella　adopted　none　of　these　bourgeois　ideas；　and　yielded　to　them

only　to　please　me；　she　wished　to　exhibit　me　to　the　eyes　of　all　Paris

as　her　〃sposo。〃　She　employed　her　powers　of　seduction　to　keep　me　under

her　roof；　for　she　was　not　content　with　a　rumored　scandal　which；　for

want　of　proof；　was　only　whispered　behind　the　fans。　Seeing　her　so　happy

in　committing　an　imprudence　which　frankly　admitted　her　position；　how

could　I　help　believing　in　her　love？



But　no　sooner　was　I　plunged　into　the　comforts　of　illegal　marriage　than

despair　seized　upon　me；　I　saw　my　life　bound　to　a　course　in　direct

defiance　of　the　ideas　and　the　advice　given　me　by　Henriette。

Thenceforth　I　lived　in　the　sort　of　rage　we　find　in　consumptive

patients　who；　knowing　their　end　is　near；　cannot　endure　that　their

lungs　should　be　examined。　There　was　no　corner　in　my　heart　where　I

could　fly　to　escape　suffering；　an　avenging　spirit　filled　me

incessantly　with　thoughts　on　which　I　dared　not　dwell。　My　letters　to

Henriette　depicted　this　moral　malady　and　did　her　infinite　harm。　〃At

the　cost　of　so　many　treasures　lost；　I　wished　you　to　be　at　least

happy；〃　she　wrote　in　the　only　answer　I　received。　But　I　was　not　happy。

Dear　Natalie；　happiness　is　absolute；　it　allows　of　no　comparisons。　My

first　ardor　over；　I　necessarily　compared　the　two　women；a　contrast　I

had　never　yet　studied。　In　fact；　all　great　passions　press　so　strongly

on　the　character　that　at　first　they　check　its　asperities　and　cover　the

track　of　habits　which　constitute　our　defects　and　our　better　qualities。

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　exist