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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