letters of two brides-第10节
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what has alarmed me most in this fashionable society is its brutality。
The little incidents which take place when supper is announced give
one some ideato compare small things with greatof what a popular
rising might be。 Courtesy is only a thin veneer on the general
selfishness。 I imagined society very different。 Women count for little
in it； that may perhaps be a survival of Bonapartist ideas。〃
〃Armande is coming on extraordinarily；〃 said my mother。
〃Mother； did you think I should never get beyond asking to see Mme。 de
Stael？〃
My father smiled； and rose from the table。
Saturday。
My dear； I have left one thing out。 Here is the tidbit I have reserved
for you。 The love which we pictured must be extremely well hidden； I
have seen not a trace of it。 True； I have caught in drawing…rooms now
and again a quick exchange of glances； but how colorless it all is！
Love； as we imagined it； a world of wonders； of glorious dreams； of
charming realities； of sorrows that waken sympathy； and smiles that
make sunshine； does not exist。 The bewitching words； the constant
interchange of happiness； the misery of absence； the flood of joy at
the presence of the beloved onewhere are they？ What soil produces
these radiant flowers of the soul？ Which is wrong？ We or the world？
I have already seen hundreds of men； young and middle…aged； not one
has stirred the least feeling in me。 No proof of admiration and
devotion on their part； not even a sword drawn in my behalf； would
have moved me。 Love； dear； is the product of such rare conditions that
it is quite possible to live a lifetime without coming across the
being on whom nature has bestowed the power of making one's happiness。
The thought is enough to make one shudder； for if this being is found
too late； what then？
For some days I have begun to tremble when I think of the destiny of
women； and to understand why so many wear a sad face beneath the flush
brought by the unnatural excitement of social dissipation。 Marriage is
a mere matter of chance。 Look at yours。 A storm of wild thoughts has
passed over my mind。 To be loved every day the same； yet with a
difference； to be loved as much after ten years of happiness as on the
first day！such a love demands years。 The lover must be allowed to
languish； curiosity must be piqued and satisfied； feeling roused and
responded to。
Is there； then； a law for the inner fruits of the heart； as there is
for the visible fruits of nature？ Can joy be made lasting？ In what
proportion should love mingle tears with pleasures？ The cold policy of
the funereal； monotonous； persistent routine of the convent seemed to
me at these moments the only real life； while the wealth； the
splendor； the tears； the delights； the triumph； the joy； the
satisfaction； of a love equal； shared； and sanctioned； appeared a mere
idle vision。
I see no room in this city for the gentle ways of love； for precious
walks in shady alleys； the full moon sparkling on the water； while the
suppliant pleads in vain。 Rich； young； and beautiful； I have only to
love； and love would become my sole occupation； my life； yet in the
three months during which I have come and gone； eager and curious；
nothing has appealed to me in the bright； covetous； keen eyes around
me。 No voice has thrilled me； no glance has made the world seem
brighter。
Music alone has filled my soul； music alone has at all taken the place
of our friendship。 Sometimes； at night； I will linger for an hour by
my window； gazing into the garden； summoning the future； with all it
brings； out of the mystery which shrouds it。 There are days too when；
having started for a drive； I get out and walk in the Champs…Elysees；
and picture to myself that the man who is to waken my slumbering soul
is at hand； that he will follow and look at me。 Then I meet only
mountebanks； vendors of gingerbread； jugglers； passers…by hurrying to
their business； or lovers who try to escape notice。 These I am tempted
to stop； asking them； 〃You who are happy； tell me what is love。〃
But the impulse is repressed； and I return to my carriage； swearing to
die an old maid。 Love is undoubtedly an incarnation； and how many
conditions are needful before it can take place！ We are not certain of
never quarreling with ourselves； how much less so when there are two？
This is a problem which God alone can solve。
I begin to think that I shall return to the convent。 If I remain in
society； I shall do things which will look like follies； for I cannot
possibly reconcile myself to what I see。 I am perpetually wounded
either in my sense of delicacy； my inner principles； or my secret
thoughts。
Ah！ my mother is the happiest of women； adored as she is by Canalis；
her great little man。 My love； do you know I am seized sometimes with
a horrible craving to know what goes on between my mother and that
young man？ Griffith tells me she has gone through all these moods； she
has longed to fly at women； whose happiness was written in their face；
she has blackened their character； torn them to pieces。 According to
her； virtue consists in burying all these savage instincts in one's
innermost heart。 But what then of the heart？ It becomes the sink of
all that is worst in us。
It is very humiliating that no adorer has yet turned up for me。 I am a
marriageable girl； but I have brothers； a family； relations； who are
sensitive on the point of honor。 Ah！ if that is what keeps men back；
they are poltroons。
The part of Chimene in the /Cid/ and that of the Cid delight me。 What
a marvelous play！ Well； good…bye。
VIII
THE SAME TO THE SAME
January。
Our master is a poor refugee； forced to keep in hiding on account of
the part he played in the revolution which the Duc d'Angouleme has
just quelleda triumph to which we owe some splendid fetes。 Though a
Liberal； and doubtless a man of the people； he has awakened my
interest： I fancy that he must have been condemned to death。 I make
him talk for the purpose of getting at his secret； but he is of a
truly Castilian taciturnity； proud as though he were Gonsalvo di
Cordova； and nevertheless angelic in his patience and gentleness。 His
pride is not irritable like Miss Griffith's； it belongs to his inner
nature； he forces us to civility because his own manners are so
perfect； and holds us at a distance by the respect he shows us。 My
father declares that there is a great deal of the nobleman in Senor
Henarez； whom； among ourselves； he calls in fun Don Henarez。
A few days ago I took the liberty of addressing him thus。 He raised
his eyes； which are generally bent on the ground； and flashed a look
from them that quite abashed me； my dear； he certainly has the most
beautiful eyes imaginable。 I asked him if I had offended him in any
way； and he said to me in his grand； rolling Spanish：
〃I am here only to teach you Spanish。〃
I blushed and felt quite snubbed。 I was on the point of making some
pert answer； when I remembered what our dear mother in God used to say
to us； and I replied instead：
〃It would be a kindness to tell me if you have anything to complain
of。〃
A tremor passed through him； the blood rose in his olive cheeks； he
replied in a voice of some emotion：
〃Religion must have taught you； better than I can； to respect the
unhappy。 Had I been a /don/ in Spain； and lost everything in the
triumph of Ferdinand VII。； your witticism would be unkind； but if I am
only a poor teacher of languages； is it not a heartless satire？
Neither is worthy of a young lady of rank。〃
I took his hand； saying：
〃In the name of religion also； I beg you to pardon me。〃
He bowed； opened my /Don Quixote/； and sat down。
This little incident disturbed me more than the harvest of
compliments； gazing and pretty speeches on my most successful evening。
During the lesson I watched him attentively； which I could do the more
safely； as he never looks at me。
As the result of my observations； I made out that the tutor； whom we
took to be forty； is a young man； some years under thirty。 My
governess； to whom I had handed him over； remarked on the beauty of
his black hair and of his pearly teeth。 As to his eyes； they are
velvet and fire； but he is plain and insignificant。 Though the
Spaniards have been described as not a cleanly people； this man is
most carefully got up； and his hands are whiter than his face。 He
stoops a little； and has an extremely large； oddly…shaped head。 His
ugliness； which； however； has a dash of piquancy； is aggravated by
smallpox marks； which seam his face。 His forehead is very prominent；
and the shaggy eyebrows meet； giving a repellent air of harshness。
There is a frowning； plaintive look on his face； reminding one of a
sickly child； which owes its life to superhuman care； as Sister Marthe
did。 As my father observed； his features are a shrunken reproduction
of those of Cardinal Ximenes。 The natural dignity of our tutor's
manners seems to disconcert the dear Duke； who doesn't like him； and
is never at ease with him； he can't bear to come in contact with
superiority of any kind。
As soon as my father knows enough Spanish； we start for Madrid。 When
Henarez returned； two days after the reproof he had given me； I
remarked by w
