The Wandering Jew, Book VIII.., Eugene Sue [best non fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

with divine beauty. Standing up in a car, drawn by

two tigers, with an air at once gentle and proud, he leaned with one hand

upon a thyrsus, and with the other guided his savage steeds in tranquil

majesty. By this rare mixture of grace, vigor, and serenity, it was easy

to recognize the hero who had waged such desperate combats with men and

with monsters of the forest. Thanks to the brownish tone of the figure,

the light, falling from one side of the sculpture, admirably displayed

the form of the youthful god, which, carved in relievo, and thus

illumined, shone like a magnificent statue of pale gold upon the dark

fretted background of the bronze.

 

When Adrienne's look first rested on this rare assemblage of divine

perfections, her countenance was calm and thoughtful. But this

contemplation, at first mechanical, became gradually more and more

attentive and conscious, and the young lady, rising suddenly from her

seat, slowly approached the bas-relief, as if yielding to the invincible

attraction of an extraordinary resemblance. Then a slight blush appeared

on the cheeks of Mdlle. de Cardoville, stole across her face, and spread

rapidly to her neck and forehead. She approached still closer, threw

round a hasty glance, as if half-ashamed, or as if she had feared to be

surprised in a blamable action, and twice stretched forth her hand,

trembling with emotion, to touch with the tips of her charming fingers

the bronze forehead of the Indian Bacchus. And twice she stopped short,

with a kind of modest hesitation. At last, the temptation became too

strong for her. She yielded to it; and her alabaster finger, after

delicately caressing the features of pale gold, was pressed more boldly

for an instant on the pure and noble brow of the youthful god. At this

pressure, though so slight, Adrienne seemed to feel a sort of electric

shock; she trembled in every limb, her eyes languished, and, after

swimming for an instant in their humid and brilliant crystal, were

raised, half-closed, to heaven. Then her head was thrown a little way

back, her knees bent insensibly, her rosy lips were half opened, as if to

give a passage to her heated breath, for her bosom heaved violently, as

thought youth and life had accelerated the pulsations of her heart, and

made her blood boil in her veins. Finally, the burning cheeks of Adrienne

betrayed a species of ecstasy, timid and passionate, chaste and sensual,

the expression of which was ineffably touching.

 

An affecting spectacle indeed is that of a young maiden, whose modest

brow flushes with the first fires of a secret passion. Does not the

Creator of all things animate the body as well as the soul, with a spark

of divine energy? Should He not be religiously glorified in the intellect

as in the senses, with which He has so paternally endowed His creatures?

They are impious blasphemers who seek to stifle the celestial senses,

instead of guiding and harmonizing them in their divine flight. Suddenly,

Mdlle. de Cardoville started, raised her head, opened her eyes as if

awakening from a dream, withdrew abruptly from the sculptures, and walked

several times up and down the room in an agitated manner, pressing her

burning hands to her forehead. Then, falling, as it were, exhausted on

her seat, her tears flowed in abundance. The most bitter grief was

visible in her features, which revealed the fatal struggle that was

passing within her. By degrees, her tears ceased. To this crisis of

painful dejection succeeded a species of violent scorn and indignation

against herself, which were expressed by these words that escaped her:

"For the first time in my life, I feel weak and cowardly. Oh yes!

cowardly--very cowardly!"

 

The sound of a door opening and closing, roused Mdlle. de Cardoville from

her bitter reflections. Georgette entered the room, and said to her

mistress: "Madame, can you receive the Count de Montbron?"

 

Adrienne, too well-bred to exhibit before her women the sort of

impatience occasioned by this unseasonable visit, said to Georgette: "You

told M. de Montbron that I was at home?"

 

"Yes, Madame."

 

"Then beg him to walk in." Though Mdlle. de Cardoville felt at that

moment much vexed at the arrival of Montbron, let us hasten to say, that

she entertained for him an almost filial affection, and a profound

esteem, though, by a not unfrequent contrast, she almost always differed

from him in opinion. Hence arose, when Mdlle. de Cardoville had nothing

to disturb her mind, the most gay and animated discussions, in which M.

de Montbron, notwithstanding his mocking and sceptical humor, his long

experience, his rare knowledge of men and things, his fashionable

training, in a word, had not always the advantage, and even acknowledged

his defeat gayly enough. Thus, to give an idea of the differences of the

count and Adrienne, before, as he would say laughingly, he had made

himself her accomplice, he had always opposed (from other motives than

those alleged by Madame de Saint-Dizier) Adrienne's wish to live alone

and in her own way; whilst Rodin, on the contrary, by investing the young

girl's resolve on this subject with an ideal grandeur of intention, had

acquired a species of influence over her. M. de Montbron, now upwards of

sixty years of age, had been a most prominent character during the

Directory, Consulate, and the Empire. His prodigal style of living, his

wit, his gayety, his duels, his amours, and his losses at play, had given

him a leading influence in the best society of his day; while his

character, his kind-heartedness, and liberality, secured him the lasting

friendship of nearly all his female friends. At the time we now present

him to the reader, he was still a great gambler; and, moreover, a very

lucky gambler. He had, as we have stated, a very lordly style; his

manners were decided, but polished and lively; his habits were such as

belong to the higher classes of society, though he could be excessively

sharp towards people whom he did not like. He was tall and thin, and his

slim figure gave him an almost youthful appearance; his forehead was

high, and a little bald; his hair was gray and short, his countenance

long, his nose aquiline, his eyes blue and piercing, and his teeth white,

and still very good.

 

"The Count de Montbron," said Georgette, opening the door. The count

entered, and hastened to kiss Adrienne's hand, with a sort of paternal

familiarity.

 

"Come!" said M. de Montbron to himself; "let us try to discover the truth

I am in search of, that we may escape a great misfortune."

 

 

 

CHAPTER VIII. (THE CONFESSION.)

 

Mdlle. de Cardoville, not wishing to betray the cause of the violent

feelings which agitated her, received M. de Montbron with a feigned and

forced gayety. On the other hand, notwithstanding his tact and knowledge

of the world, the count was much embarrassed how to enter upon the

subject on which he wished to confer with Adrienne, and he resolved to

feel his way, before seriously commencing the conversation. After looking

at the young lady for some seconds, M. de Montbron shook his head, and

said, with a sigh of regret: "My dear child, I am not pleased."

 

"Some affair of the heart, or of hearts, my dear count?" returned

Adrienne, smiling.

 

"Of the heart," said M. de Montbron.

 

"What! you, so great a player, think more of a woman's whim than a throw

of the dice?"

 

"I have a heavy heart, and you are the cause of it, my dear child."

 

"M. de Montbron, you will make me very proud," said Adrienne, with a

smile.

 

"You would be wrong, for I tell you plainly, my trouble is caused by your

neglect of your beauty. Yes, your countenance is pale, dejected,

sorrowful; you have been low-spirited for the last few days; you have

something on your mind, I am sure of it."

 

"My dear M. de Montbron, you have so much penetration, that you may be

allowed to fall for once, as now. I am not sad, I have nothing on my

mind, and--I am about to utter a very silly piece of impertinence--I have

never thought myself so pretty."

 

"On the contrary, nothing could be more modest than such an assertion.

Who told you that falsehood? a woman?"

 

"No; it was my heart, and it spoke the truth," answered Adrienne, with a

slight degree of emotion. "Understand it, if you can," she added.

 

"Do you mean that you are proud of the alteration in your features,

because you are proud of the sufferings of your heart?" said M. de

Montbron, looking at Adrienne with attention. "Be it so; I am then right.

You have some sorrow. I persist in it," added the count, speaking with a

tone of real feeling, "because it is painful to me."

 

"Be satisfied; I am as happy as possible--for every instant I take

delight in repeating, how, at my age, I am free--absolutely free!"

 

"Yes; free to torment yourself, free to be miserable."

 

"Come, come, my dear count!" said Adrienne, "you are recommencing our old

quarrel. I still find in you the ally of my aunt and the Abbe

d'Aigrigny."

 

"Yes; as the republicans are the allies of the legitimists--to destroy

each other in their turn. Talking of your abominable aunt, they say that

she holds a sort of council at her house these last few days, a regular

mitred conspiracy. She is certainly in a good way."

 

"Why not? Formerly, she would have wished to be Goddess of Reason, now,

we shall perhaps see her canonized. She has already performed the first

part of the life of Mary Magdalen."

 

"You can never speak worse of her than she deserves, my dear child.

Still, though for quite opposite reasons, I agreed with her on the

subject of your wish to reside alone."

 

"I know it."

 

"Yes; and because I wished to see you a thousand times freer than you

really are, I advised you--"

 

"To marry."

 

"No doubt; you would have had your dear liberty, with its consequences,

only, instead of Mdlle. de Cardoville, we should have called you Madame

Somebody, having found an excellent husband to be responsible for your

independence."

 

"And who would have been responsible for this ridiculous husband? And who

would bear a mocked and degraded name? I, perhaps?" said Adrienne, with

animation. "No, no, my dear count, good or ill, I will answer for my own

actions; to my name shall attach the reputation, which I alone have

formed. I am as incapable of basely dishonoring a name which is not mine,

as of continually bearing it myself, if it were not held in, esteem. And,

as one can only answer for one's own actions, I prefer to keep my name."

 

"You are the only person in the world that has such ideas."

 

"Why?" said Adrienne, laughing. "Because it appears to me horrible, to

see a poor girl lost and buried in some ugly and selfish man, and become,

as they say seriously, the better half of the monster--yes! a fresh and

blooming rose to become part of a frightful thistle!--Come, my dear

count; confess there is something odious in this conjugal

metempsychosis," added Adrienne, with a burst of laughter.

 

The forced and somewhat feverish gayety of Adrienne contrasted painfully

with her pale and suffering countenance; it was so easy to see that she

strove to stifle with laughter some deep sorrow, that M. de Montbron was

much affected by it; but, dissembling his emotion, he appeared to reflect

a moment, and took up mechanically one of the new, fresh-cut books, by

which Adrienne was surrounded. After casting a careless glance at this

volume, he continued, still dissembling his feelings: "Come, my dear

madcap: this is another folly. Suppose I were twenty years old, and that

you did me the honor to marry me--you would be called Lady de Montbron, I

imagine?"

 

"Perhaps."

 

"How perhaps? Would you not bear my name, if you married me?"

 

"My dear count," said Adrienne, with a smile, "do not let us pursue this

hypothesis, which can only leave us--regrets."

 

Suddenly, M. de Montbron started, and looked at Mdlle, de Cardoville with

an expression of surprise. For some moments, whilst talking to Adrienne,

he had mechanically--taken up two