beatrix-第49部分

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the　foot…lights　attracted　by　the　shining　of　a　perfumed　oil。　Her　white
brow　sparkled。　She　had　applied　an　imperceptible　tinge　of　rouge　to　her
cheeks；　upon　the　faded　whiteness　of　a　skin　revived　by　bran　and　water。
A　scarf　so　delicate　in　texture　that　it　made　one　doubt　if　human　fingers
could　have　fabricated　such　gossamer；　was　wound　about　her　throat　to
diminish　its　length；　and　partly　conceal　it；　leaving　imperfectly
visible　the　treasures　of　the　bust　which　were　cleverly　enclosed　in　a
corset。　Her　figure　was　indeed　a　masterpiece　of　composition。

As　for　her　pose；　one　word　will　sufficeit　was　worthy　of　the　pains　she
had　taken　to　arrange　it。　Her　arms；　now　thin　and　hard；　were　scarcely
visible　within　the　puffings　of　her　very　large　sleeves。　She　presented
that　mixture　of　false　glitter　and　brilliant　fabrics；　of　silken　gauze
and　craped　hair；　of　vivacity；　calmness；　and　motion　which　goes　by　the
term　of　the　/Je　ne　sais　quoi/。　Everybody　knows　in　what　that　consists；
namely：　great　cleverness；　some　taste；　and　a　certain　composure　of
manner。　Beatrix　might　now　be　called　a　decorative　scenic　effect；
changed　at　will；　and　wonderfully　manipulated。　The　presentation　of　this
fairy　effect；　to　which　is　added　clever　dialogue；　turns　the　heads　of
men　who　are　endowed　by　nature　with　frankness；　until　they　become
possessed；　through　the　law　of　contrasts；　by　a　frantic　desire　to　play
with　artifice。　It　is　false；　though　enticing；　a　pretence；　but
agreeable；　and　certain　men　adore　women　who　play　at　seduction　as　others
do　at　cards。　And　this　is　why：　The　desire　of　the　man　is　a　syllogism
which　draws　conclusions　from　this　external　science　as　to　the　secret
promises　of　pleasure。　The　inner　consciousness　says；　without　words：　〃A
woman　who　can；　as　it　were；　create　herself　beautiful　must　have　many
other　resources　for　love。〃　And　that　is　true。　Deserted　women　are
usually　those　who　merely　love；　those　who　retain　love　know　the　/art/　of
loving。　Now；　though　her　Italian　lesson　had　very　cruelly　maltreated　the
self…love　and　vanity　of　Madame　de　Rochefide；　her　nature　was　too
instinctively　artificial　not　to　profit　by　it。

〃It　is　not　a　question　of　loving　a　man；〃　she　was　saying　a　few　moments
before　Calyste　had　entered　her　box；　〃we　must　tease　and　harass　him　if
we　want　to　keep　him。　That's　the　secret　of　all　those　women　who　seek　to
retain　you　men。　The　dragons　who　guard　treasures　are　always　armed　with
claws　and　wings。〃

〃I　shall　make　a　sonnet　on　that　thought；〃　replied　Canalis　at　the　very
moment　when　Calyste　entered　the　box。

With　a　single　glance　Beatrix　divined　the　state　of　Calyste's　heart；　she
saw　the　marks　of　the　collar　she　had　put　upon　him　at　Les　Touches；　still
fresh　and　red。　Calyste；　however；　wounded　by　the　speech　made　to　him
about　his　wife；　hesitated　between　his　dignity　as　a　husband；　Sabine's
defence；　and　a　harsh　word　cast　upon　a　heart　which　held　such　memories
for　him；　a　heart　which　he　believed　to　be　bleeding。　The　marquise
observed　his　hesitation；　she　had　made　that　speech　expressly　that　she
might　know　how　far　her　empire　over　Calyste　still　extended。　Seeing　his
weakness；　she　came　at　once　to　his　succor　to　relieve　his　embarrassment。

〃Well；　dear　friend；　you　find　me　alone；〃　she　said；　as　soon　as　the　two
gentlemen　had　left　the　box；〃yes；　alone　in　the　world！〃

〃You　forget　me！〃　said　Calyste。

〃You！〃　she　replied；　〃but　you　are　married。　That　was　one　of　my　griefs；
among　the　many　I　have　endured　since　I　saw　you　last。　Not　onlyI　said
to　myselfdo　I　lose　love；　but　I　have　lost　a　friendship　which　I
thought　was　Breton。　Alas！　we　can　make　ourselves　bear　everything。　Now　I
suffer　less；　but　I　am　broken；　exhausted！　This　is　the　first　outpouring
of　my　heart　for　a　long；　long　time。　Obliged　to　seem　proud　before
indifferent　persons；　and　arrogant　as　if　I　had　never　fallen　in　presence
of　those　who　pay　court　to　me；　and　having　lost　my　dear　Felicite；　there
was　no　ear　into　which　I　could　cast　the　words；　/I　suffer！/　But　to　you　I
can　tell　the　anguish　I　endured　on　seeing　you　just　now　so　near　to　me。
Yes；〃　she　said；　replying　to　a　gesture　of　Calyste's；　〃it　is　almost
fidelity。　That　is　how　it　is　with　misery；　a　look；　a　visit；　a　mere
nothing　is　everything　to　us。　Ah！　you　once　loved　meyouas　I　deserved
to　be　loved　by　him　who　has　taken　pleasure　in　trampling　under　foot　the
treasures　I　poured　out　upon　him。　And　yet；　to　my　sorrow；　I　cannot
forget；　I　love；　and　I　desire　to　be　faithful　to　a　past　that　can　never
return。〃

Having　uttered　this　tirade；　improvised　for　the　hundredth　time；　she
played　the　pupils　of　her　eyes　in　a　way　to　double　the　effect　of　her
words；　which　seemed　to　be　dragged　from　the　depths　of　her　soul　by　the
violence　of　a　torrent　long　restrained。　Calyste；　incapable　of　speech；
let　fall　the　tears　that　gathered　in　his　eyes。　Beatrix　caught　his　hand
and　pressed　it；　making　him　turn　pale。

〃Thank　you；　Calyste；　thank　you；　my　poor　child；　that　is　how　a　true
friend　responds　to　the　grief　of　his　friend。　We　understand　each　other。
No；　don't　add　another　word；　leave　me　now；　people　are　looking　at　us；　it
might　cause　trouble　to　your　wife　if　some　one　chanced　to　tell　her　that
we　were　seen　together；innocently　enough；　before　a　thousand　people！
There；　you　see　I　am　strong；　adieu〃

She　wiped　her　eyes；　making　what　might　be　called；　in　woman's　rhetoric；
an　antithesis　of　action。

〃Let　me　laugh　the　laugh　of　a　lost　soul　with　the　careless　creatures　who
amuse　me；〃　she　went　on。　〃I　live　among　artists；　writers；　in　short　the
world　I　knew　in　the　salon　of　our　poor　Camillewho　may　indeed　have
acted　wisely。　To　enrich　the　man　we　love　and　then　to　disappear　saying；
'I　am　too　old　for　him！'　that　is　ending　like　the　martyrs；and　the　best
end　too；　if　one　cannot　die　a　virgin。〃

She　began　to　laugh；　as　it　to　remove　the　melancholy　impression　she　had
made　upon　her　former　adorer。

〃But；〃　said　Calyste；　〃where　can　I　go　to　see　you？〃

〃I　am　hidden　in　the　rue　de　Chartres　opposite　the　Parc　de　Monceaux；　in
a　little　house　suitable　to　my　means；　and　there　I　cram　my　head　with
literaturebut　only　for　myself；　to　distract　my　thoughts；　God　keep　me
from　the　mania　of　literary　women！　Now　go；　leave　me；　I　must　not　allow
the　world　to　talk　of　me；　what　will　it　not　say　on　seeing　us　together！
Adieuoh！　Calyste；　my　friend；　if　you　stay　another　minute　I　shall
burst　into　tears！〃

Calyste　withdrew；　after　holding　out　his　hand　to　Beatrix　and　feeling
for　the　second　time　that　strange　and　deep　sensation　of　a　double
pressurefull　of　seductive　tingling。

〃Sabine　never　knew　how　to　stir　my　soul　in　that　way；〃　was　the　thought
that　assailed　him　in　the　corridor。

During　the　rest　of　the　evening　the　Marquise　de　Rochefide　did　not　cast
three　straight　glances　at　Calyste；　but　there　were　many　sidelong　looks
which　tore　of　the　soul　of　the　man　now　wholly　thrown　back　into　his
first；　repulsed　love。

When　the　baron　du　Guenic　reached　home　the　splendor　of　his　apartments
made　him　think　of　the　sort　of　mediocrity　of　which　Beatrix　had　spoken；
and　he　hated　his　wealth　because　it　could　not　belong　to　that　fallen
angel。　When　he　was　told　that　Sabine　had　long　been　in　bed　he　rejoiced
to　find　himself　rich　in　the　possession　of　a　night　in　which　to　live
over　his　emotions。　He　cursed　the　power　of　divination　which　love　had
bestowed　upon　Sabine。　When　by　chance　a　man　is　adored　by　his　wife；　she
reads　on　his　face　as　in　a　book；　she　learns　every　quiver　of　its
muscles；　she　knows　whence　comes　its　calmness；　she　asks　herself　the
reason　of　the　slightest　sadness；　seeking　to　know　if　haply　the　cause　is
in　herself；　she　studies　the　eyes；　for　her　the　eyes　are　tinted　with　the
dominant　thought；they　love　or　they　do　not　love。　Calyste　knew　himself
to　be　the　object　of　so　deep；　so　naive；　so　jealous　a　worship　that　he
doubted　his　power　to　compose　a　cautious　face　that　should　not　betray
the　change　in　his　moral　being。

〃How　shall　I　manage　to…morrow　morning？〃　he　said　to　himself　as　he　went
to　sleep；　dreading　the　sort　of　inspection　to　which　Sabine　would　have
recourse。　When　they　came　together　at　night；　and　sometimes　during　the
day；　Sabine　would　ask　him；　〃Do　you　still　love　me？〃　or；　〃I　don't　weary
you；　do　I？〃　Charming　interrogations；　varied　according　to　the　nature　or
the　cleverness　of　women；　which　hide　their　anxieties　either　feigned　or
real。

To　the　surface　of　the　noblest　and　purest　hearts　the　mud　and　slime　cast
up　by　hurricanes　must　come。　So　on　that　morrow　morning；　Calyste；　who
certainly　loved　his　child；　quivered　with　joy　on　learning　that　Sabine
feared　the　croup；　and　was　watching　for　the　cause　of　slight
convulsions；　not　daring　to　leave　her　little　boy。　The　baron　made　a
pretext　of　business　and　went　out；　thus　avoiding　the　home　breakfast。　He
escaped　as　prisoners　escape；　happy　in　being　afoot；　and　free　to　go　by
the　Pont　Louis　XVI。　and　the　Champs　Elysees　to　a　cafe　on　the　boulevard
where　he　had　liked　to　breakfast　when　he　was　a　bachelor。

What　is　there　in　love？　Does　Nature　rebel　against　the　social　yoke？　Does
she　need　that　impulse　of　her　given　life　to　be　spontaneous；　free；　the
dash　of　an　impetuous　torrent　foaming　against　rocks　of　opposition　and
of　coquetry；　rather　than　a　tranquil　stream　flowing　between　the　two
banks　of　the　church　and　the　legal　ceremony？　Has　she　her　own　designs　as
she　secretly　prepares　those　volcanic　eruptions　to　which；　perhaps；　we
owe　great　men？

It　would　be　difficult　to　find　a　young　man　more　sacredly　brought　up
than　Calyste；　of　purer　morals；　less　stained　by　irreligion；　and　yet　he
bounded　toward　a　woman　unworthy　of　him；　when　a　benign　and　radiant
chance　had　given　him　for　his　wife　a　young　creature　whose　beauty　was
truly　aristocratic；　whose　mind　was　keen　and　delicate；　a　pious；　loving
girl；　attached　singly　to　him；　of　angelic　sweetness；　and　made　more
tender　still　by　love；　a　love　that　was　passionate　in　spite　of　marriage；
like　his　for　Beatrix。　Perhaps　the　noblest　men　retain　some　clay　in
their　constitutions；　the　slough　still　pleases　them。　If　this　be　so；　the
least　imperfect　human　being　is　the　woman；　in　spite　of　her　faults　and
her　want　of　reason。　Madame　de　Rochefide；　it　must　be　said；　amid　the
circle　of　poetic　pretensions　which　surrounded　her；　and　in　spite　of　her
fall；　belonged　to　the　highest　nobility；　she　presented　a　nature　more
ethereal　than　slimy；　and　hid　the　courtesan　she　was　meant　to　be　beneath
an　aristocratic　exterior。　Therefore　the　above　explanation　does　not
fully　ac