letters of two brides-第40节

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are　alike　intolerant　of　life；　so　the　very　purity　and　vehemence　of　a
single…hearted　passion　render　it　barren　as　hate？　Is　it　only　a　marriage
of　reason；　such　as　yours；　which　is　blessed　with　a　family？　Can　Heaven
be　jealous　of　our　passions？　There　are　wild　words。

You　are；　I　believe；　the　one　person　whose　company　I　could　endure。　Come
to　me；　then；　none　but　Renee　should　be　with　Louise　in　her　sombre　garb。
What　a　day　when　I　first　put　on　my　widow's　bonnet！　When　I　saw　myself
all　arrayed　in　black；　I　fell　back　on　a　seat　and　wept　till　night　came；
and　I　weep　again　as　I　recall　that　moment　of　anguish。

Good…bye。　Writing　tires　me；　thoughts　crowd　fast；　but　I　have　no　heart
to　put　them　into　words。　Bring　your　children；　you　can　nurse　baby　here
without　making　me　jealous；　all　that　is　gone；　/he/　is　not　here；　and　I
shall　be　very　glad　to　see　my　godson。　Felipe　used　to　wish　for　a　child
like　little　Armand。　Come；　then；　come　and　help　me　to　bear　my　woe。



XLVII

RENEE　TO　LOUISE
1829。

My　darling；When　you　hold　this　letter　in　your　hands；　I　shall　be
already　near；　for　I　am　starting　a　few　minutes　after　it。　We　shall　be
alone　together。　Louis　is　obliged　to　remain　in　Provence　because　of　the
approaching　elections。　He　wants　to　be　elected　again；　and　the　Liberals
are　already　plotting　against　his　return。

I　don't　come　to　comfort　you；　I　only　bring　you　my　heart　to　beat　in
sympathy　with　yours；　and　help　you　to　bear　with　life。　I　come　to　bid　you
weep；　for　only　with　tears　can　you　purchase　the　joy　of　meeting　him
again。　Remember；　he　is　traveling　towards　Heaven；　and　every　step
forward　which　you　take　brings　you　nearer　to　him。　Every　duty　done
breaks　a　link　in　the　chain　that　keeps　you　apart。

Louise；　in　my　arms　you　will　once　more　raise　your　head　and　go　on　your
way　to　him；　pure；　noble；　washed　of　all　those　errors；　which　had　no　root
in　your　heart；　and　bearing　with　you　the　harvest　of　good　deeds　which；
in　his　name；　you　will　accomplish　here。

I　scribble　these　hasty　lines　in　all　the　bustle　of　preparation；　and
interrupted　by　the　babies　and　by　Armand；　who　keeps　saying；　〃Godmother；
godmother！　I　want　to　see　her；〃　till　I　am　almost　jealous。　He　might　be
your　child！




SECOND　PART



XLVIII

THE　BARONNE　DE　MACUMER　TO　THE　COMTESSE　DE　L'ESTORADE
October　15；　1833。

Yes；　Renee；　it　is　quite　true；　you　have　been　correctly　informed。　I　have
sold　my　house；　I　have　sold　Chantepleurs；　and　the　farms　in　Seine…et…
Marne；　but　no　more；　please！　I　am　neither　mad　nor　ruined；　I　assure　you。

Let　us　go　into　the　matter。　When　everything　was　wound　up；　there
remained　to　me　of　my　poor　Macumer's　fortune　about　twelve　hundred
thousand　francs。　I　will　account；　as　to　a　practical　sister；　for　every
penny　of　this。

I　put　a　million　in　the　Three　per　Cents　when　they　were　at　fifty；　and　so
I　have　got　an　income　for　myself　of　sixty　thousand　francs；　instead　of
the　thirty　thousand　which　the　property　yielded。　Then；　only　think　what
my　life　was。　Six　months　of　the　year　in　the　country；　renewing　leases；
listening　to　the　grumbles　of　the　farmers；　who　pay　when　it　pleases
them；　and　getting　as　bored　as　a　sportsman　in　wet　weather。　There　was
produce　to　sell；　and　I　always　sold　it　at　a　loss。　Then；　in　Paris；　my
house　represented　a　rental　of　ten　thousand　francs；　I　had　to　invest　my
money　at　the　notaries；　I　was　kept　waiting　for　the　interest；　and　could
only　get　the　money　back　by　prosecuting；　in　addition　I　had　to　study　the
law　of　mortgage。　In　short；　there　was　business　in　Nivernais；　in　Seine…
et…Marne；　in　Parisand　what　a　burden；　what　a　nuisance；　what　a　vexing
and　losing　game　for　a　widow　of　twenty…seven！

Whereas　now　my　fortune　is　secured　on　the　Budget。　In　place　of　paying
taxes　to　the　State；　I　receive　from　it；　every　half…year；　in　my　own
person；　and　free　from　cost；　thirty　thousand　francs　in　thirty　notes；
handed　over　the　counter　to　me　by　a　dapper　little　clerk　at　the
Treasury；　who　smiles　when　he　sees　me　coming！

Supposing　the　nation　went　bankrupt？　Well；　to　begin　with：

　　'Tis　not　mine　to　see　trouble　so　far　from　my　door。

At　the　worst；　too；　the　nation　would　not　dock　me　of　more　than　half　my
income；　so　I　should　still　be　as　well　off　as　before　my　investment；　and
in　the　meantime　I　shall　be　drawing　a　double　income　until　the
catastrophe　arrives。　A　nation　doesn't　become　bankrupt　more　than　once
in　a　century；　so　I　shall　have　plenty　of　time　to　amass　a　little　capital
out　of　my　savings。

And　finally；　is　not　the　Comte　de　l'Estorade　a　peer　of　this　July　semi…
republic？　Is　he　not　one　of　those　pillars　of　royalty　offered　by　the
〃people〃　to　the　King　of　the　French？　How　can　I　have　qualms　with　a
friend　at　Court；　a　great　financier；　head　of　the　Audit　Department？　I
defy　you　to　arraign　my　sanity！　I　am　almost　as　good　at　sums　as　your
citizen　king。

Do　you　know　what　inspires　a　woman　with　all　this　arithmetic？　Love；　my
dear！

Alas！　the　moment　has　come　for　unfolding　to　you　the　mysteries　of　my
conduct；　the　motives　of　which　have　baffled　even　your　keen　sight；　your
prying　affection；　and　your　subtlety。　I　am　to　be　married　in　a　country
village　near　Paris。　I　love　and　am　loved。　I　love　as　much　as　a　woman　can
who　knows　love　well。　I　am　loved　as　much　as　a　woman　ought　to　be　by　the
man　she　adores。

Forgive　me；　Renee；　for　keeping　this　a　secret　from　you　and　from　every
one。　If　your　friend　evades　all　spies　and　puts　curiosity　on　a　false
track；　you　must　admit　that　my　feeling　for　poor　Macumer　justified　some
dissimulation。　Besides；　de　l'Estorade　and　you　would　have　deafened　me
with　remonstrances；　and　plagued　me　to　death　with　your　misgivings；　to
which　the　facts　might　have　lent　some　color。　You　know；　if　no　one　else
does；　to　what　pitch　my　jealousy　can　go；　and　all　this　would　only　have
been　useless　torture　to　me。　I　was　determined　to　carry　out；　on　my　own
responsibility；　what　you；　Renee；　will　call　my　insane　project；　and　I
would　take　counsel　only　with　my　own　head　and　heart；　for　all　the　world
like　a　schoolgirl　giving　the　slip　to　her　watchful　parents。

The　man　I　love　possesses　nothing　but　thirty　thousand　francs'　worth　of
debts；　which　I　have　paid。　What　a　theme　for　comment　here！　You　would
have　tried　to　make　Gaston　out　an　adventurer；　your　husband　would　have
set　detectives　on　the　dear　boy。　I　preferred　to　sift　him　for　myself。　He
has　been　wooing　me　now　close　on　two　years。　I　am　twenty…seven；　he　is
twenty…three。　The　difference；　I　admit；　is　huge　when　it　is　on　the　wrong
side。　Another　source　of　lamentation！

Lastly；　he　is　a　poet；　and　has　lived　by　his　tradethat　is　to　say；　on
next　to　nothing；　as　you　will　readily　understand。　Being　a　poet；　he　has
spent　more　time　weaving　day…dreams；　and　basking；　lizard…like；　in　the
sun；　than　scribing　in　his　dingy　garret。　Now；　practical　people　have　a
way　of　tarring　with　the　same　brush　of　inconstancy　authors；　artists；
and　in　general　all　men　who　live　by　their　brains。　Their　nimble　and
fertile　wit　lays　them　open　to　the　charge　of　a　like　agility　in　matters
of　the　heart。

Spite　of　the　debts；　spite　of　the　difference　in　age；　spite　of　the
poetry；　an　end　is　to　be　placed　in　a　few　days　to　a　heroic　resistance　of
more　than　nine　months；　during　which　he　has　not　been　allowed　even　to
kiss　my　hand；　and　so　also　ends　the　season　of　our　sweet；　pure　love…
making。　This　is　not　the　mere　surrender　of　a　raw；　ignorant；　and　curious
girl；　as　it　was　eight　years　ago；　the　gift　is　deliberate；　and　my　lover
awaits　it　with　such　loyal　patience　that；　if　I　pleased；　I　could
postpone　the　marriage　for　a　year。　There　is　no　servility　in　this；
love's　slave　he　may　be；　but　the　heart　is　not　slavish。　Never　have　I
seen　a　man　of　nobler　feeling；　or　one　whose　tenderness　was　more　rich　in
fancy；　whose　love　bore　more　the　impress　of　his　soul。　Alas！　my　sweet
one；　the　art　of　love　is　his　by　heritage。　A　few　words　will　tell　his
story。

My　friend　has　no　other　name　than　Marie　Gaston。　He　is　the　illegitimate
son　of　the　beautiful　Lady　Brandon；　whose　fame　must　have　reached　you；
and　who　died　broken…hearted；　a　victim　to　the　vengeance　of　Lady　Dudley
a　ghastly　story　of　which　the　dear　boy　knows　nothing。　Marie　Gaston
was　placed　by　his　brother　Louis　in　a　boarding…school　at　Tours；　where
he　remained　till　1827。　Louis；　after　settling　his　brother　at　school；
sailed　a　few　days　later　for　foreign　parts　〃to　seek　his　fortune；〃　to
use　the　words　of　an　old　woman　who　had　played　the　part　of　Providence　to
him。　This　brother　turned　sailor　used　to　write　him；　at　long　intervals；
letters　quite　fatherly　in　tone；　and　breathing　a　noble　spirit；　but　a
struggling　life　never　allowed　him　to　return　home。　His　last　letter　told
Marie　that　he　had　been　appointed　Captain　in　the　navy　of　some　American
republic；　and　exhorted　him　to　hope　for　better　days。

Alas！　since　then　three　years　have　passed；　and　my　poor　poet　has　never
heard　again。　So　dearly　did　he　love　his　brother；　that　he　would　have
started　to　look　for　him　but　for　Daniel　d'Arthez；　the　well…known
author；　who　took　a　generous　interest　in　Marie　Gaston；　and　prevented
him　carrying　out　his　mad　impulse。　Nor　was　this　all；　often　would　he
give　him　a　crust　and　a　corner；　as　the　poet　puts　it　in　his　graphic
words。

For；　in　truth；　the　poor　lad　was　in　terrible　straits；　he　was　actually
innocent　enough　to　believeincredible　as　it　seemsthat　genius　was
the　shortest　road　to　fortune；　and　from　1828　to　1833　his　one　aim　has
been　to　make　a　name　f