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A Daughter of Eve



by Honore de Balzac



Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley









DEDICATION



  To Madame la Comtesse Bolognini; nee Vimercati。



  If you remember; madame; the pleasure your conversation gave to a

  traveller by recalling Paris to his memory in Milan; you will not

  be surprised to find him testifying his gratitude for many

  pleasant evenings passed beside you by laying one of his works at

  your feet; and begging you to protect it with your name; as in

  former days that name protected the tales of an ancient writer

  dear to the Milanese。



  You have an Eugenie; already beautiful; whose intelligent smile

  gives promise that she has inherited from you the most precious

  gifts of womanhood; and who will certainly enjoy during her

  childhood and youth all those happinesses which a rigid mother

  denied to the Eugenie of these pages。 Though Frenchmen are taxed

  with inconstancy; you will find me Italian in faithfulness and 

  memory。 While writing the name of 〃Eugenie;〃 my thoughts have

  often led me back to that cool stuccoed salon and little garden in

  the Vicolo dei Cappucini; which echoed to the laughter of that

  dear child; to our sportive quarrels and our chatter。 But you have

  left the Corso for the Tre Monasteri; and I know not how you are

  placed there; consequently; I am forced to think of you; not among

  the charming things with which no doubt you have surrounded

  yourself; but like one of those fine figures due to Raffaelle;

  Titian; Correggio; Allori; which seem abstractions; so distant are

  they from our daily lives。



  If this book should wing its way across the Alps; it will prove to

  you the lively gratitude and respectful friendship of



Your devoted servant;

De Balzac。









A DAUGHTER OF EVE







CHAPTER I



THE TWO MARIES



In one of the finest houses of the rue Neuve…des…Mathurins; at half…

past eleven at night; two young women were sitting before the

fireplace of a boudoir hung with blue velvet of that tender shade;

with shimmering reflections; which French industry has lately learned

to fabricate。 Over the doors and windows were draped soft folds of

blue cashmere; the tint of the hangings; the work of one of those

upholsterers who have just missed being artists。 A silver lamp studded

with turquoise; and suspended by chains of beautiful workmanship; hung

from the centre of the ceiling。 The same system of decoration was

followed in the smallest details; and even to the ceiling of fluted

blue silk; with long bands of white cashmere falling at equal

distances on the hangings; where they were caught back by ropes of

pearl。 A warm Belgian carpet; thick as turf; of a gray ground with

blue posies; covered the floor。 The furniture; of carved ebony; after

a fine model of the old school; gave substance and richness to the

rather too decorative quality; as a painter might call it; of the rest

of the room。 On either side of a large window; two etageres displayed

a hundred precious trifles; flowers of mechanical art brought into

bloom by the fire of thought。 On a chimney…piece of slate…blue marble

were figures in old Dresden; shepherds in bridal garb; with delicate

bouquets in their hands; German fantasticalities surrounding a

platinum clock; inlaid with arabesques。 Above it sparkled the

brilliant facets of a Venice mirror framed in ebony; with figures

carved in relief; evidently obtained from some former royal residence。

Two jardinieres were filled with the exotic product of a hot…house;

pale; but divine flowers; the treasures of botany。



In this cold; orderly boudoir; where all things were in place as if

for sale; no sign existed of the gay and capricious disorder of a

happy home。 At the present moment; the two young women were weeping。

Pain seemed to predominate。 The name of the owner; Ferdinand du

Tillet; one of the richest bankers in Paris; is enough to explain the

luxury of the whole house; of which this boudoir is but a sample。



Though without either rank or station; having pushed himself forward;

heaven knows how; du Tillet had married; in 1831; the daughter of the

Comte de Granville; one of the greatest names in the French

magistracy;a man who became peer of France after the revolution of

July。 This marriage of ambition on du Tillet's part was brought about

by his agreeing to sign an acknowledgment in the marriage contract of

a dowry not received; equal to that of her elder sister; who was

married to Comte Felix de Vandenesse。 On the other hand; the

Granvilles obtained the alliance with de Vandenesse by the largeness

of the 〃dot。〃 Thus the bank repaired the breach made in the pocket of

the magistracy by rank。 Could the Comte de Vandenesse have seen

himself; three years later; the brother…in…law of a Sieur Ferdinand DU

Tillet; so…called; he might not have married his wife; but what man of

rank in 1828 foresaw the strange upheavals which the year 1830 was

destined to produce in the political condition; the fortunes; and the

customs of France? Had any one predicted to Comte Felix de Vandenesse

that his head would lose the coronet of a peer; and that of his

father…in…law acquire one; he would have thought his informant a

lunatic。



Bending forward on one of those low chairs then called 〃chaffeuses;〃

in the attitude of a listener; Madame du Tillet was pressing to her

bosom with maternal tenderness; and occasionally kissing; the hand of

her sister; Madame Felix de Vandenesse。 Society added the baptismal

name to the surname; in order to distinguish the countess from her

sister…in…law; the Marquise Charles de Vandenesse; wife of the former

ambassador; who had married the widow of the Comte de Kergarouet;

Mademoiselle Emilie de Fontaine。



Half lying on a sofa; her handkerchief in the other hand; her

breathing choked by repressed sobs; and with tearful eyes; the

countess had been making confidences such as are made only from sister

to sister when two sisters love each other; and these two sisters did

love each other tenderly。 We live in days when sisters married into

such antagonist spheres can very well not love each other; and

therefore the historian is bound to relate the reasons of this tender

affection; preserved without spot or jar in spite of their husbands'

contempt for each other and their own social disunion。 A rapid glance

at their childhood will explain the situation。



Brought up in a gloomy house in the Marais; by a woman of narrow mind;

a 〃devote〃 who; being sustained by a sense of duty (sacred phrase!);

had fulfilled her tasks as a mother religiously; Marie…Angelique and

Marie Eugenie de Granville reached the period of their marriagethe

first at eighteen; the second at twenty years of agewithout ever

leaving the domestic zone where the rigid maternal eye controlled

them。 Up to that time they had never been to a play; the churches of

Paris were their theatre。 Their education in their mother's house had

been as rigorous as it would have been in a convent。 From infancy they

had slept in a room adjoining that of the Comtesse de Granville; the

door of which stood always open。 The time not occupied by the care of

their persons; their religious duties and the studies considered

necessary for well…bred young ladies; was spent in needlework done for

the poor; or in walks like those an Englishwoman allows herself on

Sunday; saying; apparently; 〃Not so fast; or we shall seem to be

amusing ourselves。〃



Their education did not go beyond the limits imposed by confessors;

who were chosen by their mother from the strictest and least tolerant

of the Jansenist priests。 Never were girls delivered over to their

husbands more absolutely pure and virgin than they; their mother

seemed to consider that point; essential as indeed it is; the

accomplishment of all her duties toward earth and heaven。 These two

poor creatures had never; before their marriage; read a tale; or heard

of a romance; their very drawings were of figures whose anatomy would

have been masterpieces of the impossible to Cuvier; designed to

feminize the Farnese Hercules himself。 An old maid taught them

drawing。 A worthy priest instructed them in grammar; the French

language; history; geography; and the very little arithmetic it was

thought necessary in their rank for women to know。 Their reading;

selected from authorized books; such as the 〃Lettres Edifiantes;〃 and

Noel's 〃Lecons de Litterature;〃 was done aloud in the evening; but

always in presence of their mother's confessor; for even in those

books there did sometimes occur passages which; without wise comments;

might have roused their imagination。 Fenelon's 〃Telemaque〃 was thought

dangerous。



The Comtesse de Granville loved her daughters sufficiently to wish to

make them angels after the pattern of Marie Alacoque; but the poor

girls themselves would have preferred a less virtuous and more am

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