letters of two brides-第1节

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Letters　of　Two　Brides

by　Honore　de　Balzac

Translated　by　R。　S。　Scott





DEDICATION

　　To　George　Sand

　　Your　name；　dear　George；　while　casting　a　reflected　radiance　on　my
　　book；　can　gain　no　new　glory　from　this　page。　And　yet　it　is　neither
　　self…interest　nor　diffidence　which　has　led　me　to　place　it　there；
　　but　only　the　wish　that　it　should　bear　witness　to　the　solid
　　friendship　between　us；　which　has　survived　our　wanderings　and
　　separations；　and　triumphed　over　the　busy　malice　of　the　world。　This
　　feeling　is　hardly　likely　now　to　change。　The　goodly　company　of
　　friendly　names；　which　will　remain　attached　to　my　works；　forms　an
　　element　of　pleasure　in　the　midst　of　the　vexation　caused　by　their
　　increasing　number。　Each　fresh　book；　in　fact；　gives　rise　to　fresh
　　annoyance；　were　it　only　in　the　reproaches　aimed　at　my　too　prolific
　　pen；　as　though　it　could　rival　in　fertility　the　world　from　which　I
　　draw　my　models！　Would　it　not　be　a　fine　thing；　George；　if　the
　　future　antiquarian　of　dead　literatures　were　to　find　in　this
　　company　none　but　great　names　and　generous　hearts；　friends　bound　by
　　pure　and　holy　ties；　the　illustrious　figures　of　the　century？　May　I
　　not　justly　pride　myself　on　this　assured　possession；　rather　than　on
　　a　popularity　necessarily　unstable？　For　him　who　knows　you　well；　it
　　is　happiness　to　be　able　to　sign　himself；　as　I　do　here；

Your　friend；
DE　BALZAC。

PARIS；　June　1840。




LETTERS　OF　TWO　BRIDES




FIRST　PART



I

LOUISE　DE　CHAULIEU　TO　RENEE　DE　MAUCOMBE。
PARIS；　September。

Sweetheart；　I　too　am　free！　And　I　am　the　first　too；　unless　you　have
written　to　Blois；　at　our　sweet　tryst　of　letter…writing。

Raise　those　great　black　eyes　of　yours；　fixed　on　my　opening　sentence；
and　keep　this　excitement　for　the　letter　which　shall　tell　you　of　my
first　love。　By　the　way；　why　always　〃first？〃　Is　there；　I　wonder；　a
second　love？

Don't　go　running　on　like　this；　you　will　say；　but　tell　me　rather　how
you　made　your　escape　from　the　convent　where　you　were　to　take　your
vows。　Well；　dear；　I　don't　know　about　the　Carmelites；　but　the　miracle
of　my　own　deliverance　was；　I　can　assure　you；　most　humdrum。　The　cries
of　an　alarmed　conscience　triumphed　over　the　dictates　of　a　stern　policy
there's　the　whole　mystery。　The　sombre　melancholy　which　seized　me
after　you　left　hastened　the　happy　climax；　my　aunt　did　not　want　to　see
me　die　of　a　decline；　and　my　mother；　whose　one　unfailing　cure　for　my
malady　was　a　novitiate；　gave　way　before　her。

So　I　am　in　Paris；　thanks　to　you；　my　love！　Dear　Renee；　could　you　have
seen　me　the　day　I　found　myself　parted　from　you；　well　might　you　have
gloried　in　the　deep　impression　you　had　made　on　so　youthful　a　bosom。　We
had　lived　so　constantly　together；　sharing　our　dreams　and　letting　our
fancy　roam　together；　that　I　verily　believe　our　souls　had　become　welded
together；　like　those　two　Hungarian　girls；　whose　death　we　heard　about
from　M。　Beauvisagepoor　misnamed　being！　Never　surely　was　man　better
cut　out　by　nature　for　the　post　of　convent　physician！

Tell　me；　did　you　not　droop　and　sicken　with　your　darling？

In　my　gloomy　depression；　I　could　do　nothing　but　count　over　the　ties
which　bind　us。　But　it　seemed　as　though　distance　had　loosened　them；　I
wearied　of　life；　like　a　turtle…dove　widowed　of　her　mate。　Death　smiled
sweetly　on　me；　and　I　was　proceeding　quietly　to　die。　To　be　at　Blois；　at
the　Carmelites；　consumed　by　dread　of　having　to　take　my　vows　there；　a
Mlle。　de　la　Valliere；　but　without　her　prelude；　and　without　my　Renee！
How　could　I　not　be　sicksick　unto　death？

How　different　it　used　to　be！　That　monotonous　existence；　where　every
hour　brings　its　duty；　its　prayer；　its　task；　with　such　desperate
regularity　that　you　can　tell　what　a　Carmelite　sister　is　doing　in　any
place；　at　any　hour　of　the　night　or　day；　that　deadly　dull　routine；
which　crushes　out　all　interest　in　one's　surroundings；　had　become　for
us　two　a　world　of　life　and　movement。　Imagination　had　thrown　open　her
fairy　realms；　and　in　these　our　spirits　ranged　at　will；　each　in　turn
serving　as　magic　steed　to　the　other；　the　more　alert　quickening　the
drowsy；　the　world　from　which　our　bodies　were　shut　out　became　the
playground　of　our　fancy；　which　reveled　there　in　frolicsome　adventure。
The　very　/Lives　of　the　Saints/　helped　us　to　understand　what　was　so
carefully　left　unsaid！　But　the　day　when　I　was　reft　of　your　sweet
company；　I　became　a　true　Carmelite；　such　as　they　appeared　to　us；　a
modern　Danaid；　who；　instead　of　trying　to　fill　a　bottomless　barrel；
draws　every　day；　from　Heaven　knows　what　deep；　an　empty　pitcher；
thinking　to　find　it　full。

My　aunt　knew　nothing　of　this　inner　life。　How　could　she；　who　has　made　a
paradise　for　herself　within　the　two　acres　of　her　convent；　understand
my　revolt　against　life？　A　religious　life；　if　embraced　by　girls　of　our
age；　demands　either　an　extreme　simplicity　of　soul；　such　as　we；
sweetheart；　do　not　possess；　or　else　an　ardor　for　self…sacrifice　like
that　which　makes　my　aunt　so　noble　a　character。　But　she　sacrificed
herself　for　a　brother　to　whom　she　was　devoted；　to　do　the　same　for　an
unknown　person　or　an　idea　is　surely　more　than　can　be　asked　of　mortals。

For　the　last　fortnight　I　have　been　gulping　down　so　many　reckless
words；　burying　so　many　reflections　in　my　bosom；　and　accumulating　such
a　store　of　things　to　tell；　fit　for　your　ear　alone；　that　I　should
certainly　have　been　suffocated　but　for　the　resource　of　letter…writing
as　a　sorry　substitute　for　our　beloved　talks。　How　hungry　one's　heart
gets！　I　am　beginning　my　journal　this　morning；　and　I　picture　to　myself
that　yours　is　already　started；　and　that；　in　a　few　days；　I　shall　be　at
home　in　your　beautiful　Gemenos　valley；　which　I　know　only　through　your
descriptions；　just　as　you　will　live　that　Paris　life；　revealed　to　you
hitherto　only　in　our　dreams。

Well；　then；　sweet　child；　know　that　on　a　certain　morninga　red…letter
day　in　my　lifethere　arrived　from　Paris　a　lady　companion　and
Philippe；　the　last　remaining　of　my　grandmother's　valets；　charged　to
carry　me　off。　When　my　aunt　summoned　me　to　her　room　and　told　me　the
news；　I　could　not　speak　for　joy；　and　only　gazed　at　her　stupidly。

〃My　child；〃　she　said；　in　her　guttural　voice；　〃I　can　see　that　you　leave
me　without　regret；　but　this　farewell　is　not　the　last；　we　shall　meet
again。　God　has　placed　on　your　forehead　the　sign　of　the　elect。　You　have
the　pride　which　leads　to　heaven　or　to　hell；　but　your　nature　is　too
noble　to　choose　the　downward　path。　I　know　you　better　than　you　know
yourself；　with　you；　passion；　I　can　see；　will　be　very　different　from
what　it　is　with　most　women。〃

She　drew　me　gently　to　her　and　kissed　my　forehead。　The　kiss　made　my
flesh　creep；　for　it　burned　with　that　consuming　fire　which　eats　away
her　life；　which　has　turned　to　black　the　azure　of　her　eyes；　and
softened　the　lines　about　them；　has　furrowed　the　warm　ivory　of　her
temples；　and　cast　a　sallow　tinge　over　the　beautiful　face。

Before　replying；　I　kissed　her　hands。

〃Dear　aunt；〃　I　said；　〃I　shall　never　forget　your　kindness；　and　if　it
has　not　made　your　nunnery　all　that　it　ought　to　be　for　my　health　of
body　and　soul；　you　may　be　sure　nothing　short　of　a　broken　heart　will
bring　me　back　againand　that　you　would　not　wish　for　me。　You　will　not
see　me　here　again　till　my　royal　lover　has　deserted　me；　and　I　warn　you
that　if　I　catch　him；　death　alone　shall　tear　him　from　me。　I　fear　no
Montespan。〃

She　smiled　and　said：

〃Go；　madcap；　and　take　your　idle　fancies　with　you。　There　is　certainly
more　of　the　bold　Montespan　in　you　than　of　the　gentle　la　Valliere。〃

I　threw　my　arms　round　her。　The　poor　lady　could　not　refrain　from
escorting　me　to　the　carriage。　There　her　tender　gaze　was　divided
between　me　and　the　armorial　bearings。

At　Beaugency　night　overtook　me；　still　sunk　in　a　stupor　of　the　mind
produced　by　these　strange　parting　words。　What　can　be　awaiting　me　in
this　world　for　which　I　have　so　hungered？

To　begin　with；　I　found　no　one　to　receive　me；　my　heart　had　been
schooled　in　vain。　My　mother　was　at　the　Bois　de　Boulogne；　my　father　at
the　Council；　my　brother；　the　Duc　de　Rhetore；　never　comes　in；　I　am
told；　till　it　is　time　to　dress　for　dinner。　Miss　Griffith　（she　is　not
unlike　a　griffin）　and　Philippe　took　me　to　my　rooms。

The　suite　is　the　one　which　belonged　to　my　beloved　grandmother；　the
Princess　de　Vauremont；　to　whom　I　owe　some　sort　of　a　fortune　which　no
one　has　ever　told　me　about。　As　you　read　this；　you　will　understand　the
sadness　which　came　over　me　as　I　entered　a　place　sacred　to　so　many
memories；　and　found　the　rooms　just　as　she　had　left　them！　I　was　to
sleep　in　the　bed　where　she　died。

Sitting　down　on　the　edge　of　the　sofa；　I　burst　into　tears；　forgetting　I
was　not　alone；　and　remembering　only　how　often　I　had　stood　there　by　her
knees；　the　better　to　hear　her　words。　There　I　had　gazed　upon　her　face；
buried　in　its　brown　laces；　and　worn　as　much　by　age　as　by　the　pangs　of
approaching　death。　The　room　seemed　to　me　still　warm　with　the　heat
which　she　kept　up　there。　How　comes　it　that　Armande…Louise…Marie　de
Chaulieu　must　be　like　some　peasant　girl；　who　sleeps　in　her　mother's
bed　the　very　morrow　of　her　death？　For　to　me　it　was　as　though　the
Princess；　who　died　in　1817；　had　passed　away　but　yesterday。

I　saw　many　things　in　the　room　which