a woman of thirty-第24部分

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andenesse　went　out；　after　a　conversation　which　he　had　enjoyed　more　than　he　had　thought　possible；　he　carried　with　him　the　conviction　that　this　was　like　to　be　too　costly　a　conquest　for　his　aspirations。

〃It　would　mean　sentiment　from　here　to　yonder；〃　he　thought；　〃and　correspondence　enough　to　wear　out　a　deputy　second…clerk　on　his　promotion。　And　yet　if　I　really　cared〃

Luckless　phrase　that　has　been　the　ruin　of　many　an　infatuated　mortal。　In　France　the　way　to　love　lies　through　self…love。　Charles　went　back　to　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　and　imagined　that　she　showed　symptoms　of　pleasure　in　his　conversion。　And　then；　instead　of　giving　himself　up　like　a　boy　to　the　joy　of　falling　in　love；　he　tried　to　play　a　double　role。　He　did　his　best　to　act　passion　and　to　keep　cool　enough　to　analyze　the　progress　of　this　flirtation；　to　be　lover　and　diplomatist　at　once；　but　youth　and　hot　blood　and　analysis　could　only　end　in　one　way；　over　head　and　ears　in　love；　for；　natural　or　artificial；　the　Marquise　was　more　than　his　match。　Each　time　he　went　out　from　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　he　strenuously　held　himself　to　his　distrust；　and　submitted　the　progressive　situations　of　his　case　to　a　rigorous　scrutiny　fatal　to　his　own　emotions。

〃To…day　she　gave　me　to　understand　that　she　has　been　very　unhappy　and　lonely；〃　said　he　to　himself；　after　the　third　visit；　〃and　that　but　for　her　little　girl　she　would　have　longed　for　death。　She　was　perfectly　resigned。　Now　as　I　am　neither　her　brother　nor　her　spiritual　director；　why　should　she　confide　her　troubles　to　/me/？　She　loves　me。〃

Two　days　later　he　came　away　apostrophizing　modern　manners。

〃Love　takes　on　the　hue　of　every　age。　In　1822　love　is　a　doctrinaire。　Instead　of　proving　love　by　deeds；　as　in　times　past；　we　have　taken　to　argument　and　rhetoric　and　debate。　Women's　tactics　are　reduced　to　three　shifts。　In　the　first　place；　they　declare　that　we　cannot　love　as　they　love。　（Coquetry！　the　Marquise　simply　threw　it　at　me；　like　a　challenge；　this　evening！）　Next　they　grow　pathetic；　to　appeal　to　our　natural　generosity　or　self…love；　for　does　it　not　flatter　a　young　man's　vanity　to　console　a　woman　for　a　great　calamity？　And　lastly；　they　have　a　craze　for　virginity。　She　must　have　thought　that　I　thought　her　very　innocent。　My　good　faith　is　like　to　become　an　excellent　speculation。〃

But　a　day　came　when　every　suspicious　idea　was　exhausted。　He　asked　himself　whether　the　Marquise　was　not　sincere；　whether　so　much　suffering　could　be　feigned；　and　why　she　should　act　the　part　of　resignation？　She　lived　in　complete　seclusion；　she　drank　in　silence　of　a　cup　of　sorrow　scarcely　to　be　guessed　unless　from　the　accent　of　some　chance　exclamation　in　a　voice　always　well　under　control。　From　that　moment　Charles　felt　a　keen　interest　in　Mme。　d'Aiglemont。　And　yet；　though　his　visits　had　come　to　be　a　recognized　thing；　and　in　some　sort　a　necessity　to　them　both；　and　though　the　hour　was　kept　free　by　tacit　agreement；　Vandenesse　still　thought　that　this　woman　with　whom　he　was　in　love　was　more　clever　than　sincere。　〃Decidedly；　she　is　an　uncommonly　clever　woman；〃　he　used　to　say　to　himself　as　he　went　away。

When　he　came　into　the　room；　there　was　the　Marquise　in　her　favorite　attitude；　melancholy　expressed　in　her　whole　form。　She　made　no　movement　when　he　entered；　only　raised　her　eyes　and　looked　full　at　him；　but　the　glance　that　she　gave　him　was　like　a　smile。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　manner　meant　confidence　and　sincere　friendship；　but　of　love　there　was　no　trace。　Charles　sat　down　and　found　nothing　to　say。　A　sensation　for　which　no　language　exists　troubled　him。

〃What　is　the　matter　with　you？〃　she　asked　in　a　softened　voice。

〃Nothing。　。　。　。　Yes；　I　am　thinking　of　something　of　which；　as　yet；　you　have　not　thought　at　all。〃

〃What　is　it？〃

〃Whythe　Congress　is　over。〃

〃Well；〃　she　said；　〃and　ought　you　to　have　been　at　the　Congress？〃

A　direct　answer　would　have　been　the　most　eloquent　and　delicate　declaration　of　love；　but　Charles　did　not　make　it。　Before　the　candid　friendship　in　Mme。　d'Aiglemont's　face　all　the　calculations　of　vanity；　the　hopes　of　love；　and　the　diplomatist's　doubts　died　away。　She　did　not　suspect；　or　she　seemed　not　to　suspect；　his　love　for　her；　and　Charles；　in　utter　confusion　turning　upon　himself；　was　forced　to　admit　that　he　had　said　and　done　nothing　which　could　warrant　such　a　belief　on　her　part。　For　M。　de　Vandenesse　that　evening；　the　Marquise　was；　as　she　had　always　been；　simple　and　friendly；　sincere　in　her　sorrow；　glad　to　have　a　friend；　proud　to　find　a　nature　responsive　to　her　ownnothing　more。　It　had　not　entered　her　mind　that　a　woman　could　yield　twice；　she　had　known　lovelove　lay　bleeding　still　in　the　depths　of　her　heart；　but　she　did　not　imagine　that　bliss　could　bring　her　its　rapture　twice；　for　she　believed　not　merely　in　the　intellect；　but　in　the　soul；　and　for　her　love　was　no　simple　attraction；　it　drew　her　with　all　noble　attractions。

In　a　moment　Charles　became　a　young　man　again；　enthralled　by　the　splendor　of　a　nature　so　lofty。　He　wished　for　a　fuller　initiation　into　the　secret　history　of　a　life　blighted　rather　by　fate　than　by　her　own　fault。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　heard　him　ask　the　cause　of　the　overwhelming　sorrow　which　had　blended　all　the　harmonies　of　sadness　with　her　beauty；　she　gave　him　one　glance；　but　that　searching　look　was　like　a　seal　set　upon　some　solemn　compact。

〃Ask　no　more　such　questions　of　me；〃　she　said。　〃Four　years　ago；　on　this　very　day；　the　man　who　loved　me；　for　whom　I　would　have　given　up　everything；　even　my　own　self…respect；　died；　and　died　to　save　my　name。　That　love　was　still　young　and　pure　and　full　of　illusions　when　it　came　to　an　end。　Before　I　gave　way　to　passionand　never　was　a　woman　so　urged　by　fateI　had　been　drawn　into　the　mistake　that　ruins　many　a　girl's　life；　a　marriage　with　a　man　whose　agreeable　manners　concealed　his　emptiness。　Marriage　plucked　my　hopes　away　one　by　one。　And　now；　to…day；　I　have　forfeited　happiness　through　marriage；　as　well　as　the　happiness　styled　criminal；　and　I　have　known　no　happiness。　Nothing　is　left　to　me。　If　I　could　not　die；　at　least　I　ought　to　be　faithful　to　my　memories。〃

No　tears　came　with　the　words。　Her　eyes　fell；　and　there　was　a　slight　twisting　of　the　fingers　interclasped；　according　to　her　wont。　It　was　simply　said；　but　in　her　voice　there　was　a　note　of　despair；　deep　as　her　love　seemed　to　have　been；　which　left　Charles　without　a　hope。　The　dreadful　story　of　a　life　told　in　three　sentences；　with　that　twisting　of　the　fingers　for　all　comment；　the　might　of　anguish　in　a　fragile　woman；　the　dark　depths　masked　by　a　fair　face；　the　tears　of　four　years　of　mourning　fascinated　Vandenesse；　he　sat　silent　and　diminished　in　the　presence　of　her　woman's　greatness　and　nobleness；　seeing　not　the　physical　beauty　so　exquisite；　so　perfectly　complete；　but　the　soul　so　great　in　its　power　to　feel。　He　had　found；　at　last；　the　ideal　of　his　fantastic　imaginings；　the　ideal　so　vigorously　invoked　by　all　who　look　on　life　as　the　raw　material　of　a　passion　for　which　many　a　one　seeks　ardently；　and　dies　before　he　has　grasped　the　whole　of　the　dreamed…of　treasure。

With　those　words　of　hers　in　his　ears；　in　the　presence　of　her　sublime　beauty；　his　own　thoughts　seemed　poor　and　narrow。　Powerless　as　he　felt　himself　to　find　words　of　his　own；　simple　enough　and　lofty　enough　to　scale　the　heights　of　this　exaltation；　he　took　refuge　in　platitudes　as　to　the　destiny　of　women。

〃Madame；　we　must　either　forget　our　pain；　or　hollow　out　a　tomb　for　ourselves。〃

But　reason　always　cuts　a　poor　figure　beside　sentiment；　the　one　being　essentially　restricted；　like　everything　that　is　positive；　while　the　other　is　infinite。　To　set　to　work　to　reason　where　you　are　required　to　feel；　is　the　mark　of　a　limited　nature。　Vandenesse　therefore　held　his　peace；　sat　awhile　with　his　eyes　fixed　upon　her；　then　came　away。　A　prey　to　novel　thoughts　which　exalted　woman　for　him；　he　was　in　something　the　same　position　as　a　painter　who　has　taken　the　vulgar　studio　model　for　a　type　of　womanhood；　and　suddenly　confronts　the　/Mnemosyne/　of　the　Musee　that　noblest　and　least　appreciated　of　antique　statues。

Charles　de　Vandenesse　was　deeply　in　love。　He　loved　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　with　the　loyalty　of　youth；　with　the　fervor　that　communicates　such　ineffable　charm　to　a　first　passion；　with　a　simplicity　of　heart　of　which　a　man　only　recovers　some　fragments　when　he　loves　again　at　a　later　day。　Delicious　first　passion　of　youth；　almost　always　deliciously　savored　by　the　woman　who　calls　it　forth；　for　at　the　golden　prime　of　thirty；　from　the　poetic　summit　of　a　woman's　life；　she　can　look　out　over　the　whole　course　of　lovebackwards　into　the　past；　forwards　into　the　futureand；　knowing　all　the　price　to　be　paid　for　love；　enjoys　her　bliss　with　the　dread　of　losing　it　ever　present　with　her。　Her　soul　is　still　fair　with　her　waning　youth；　and　passion　daily　gathers　strength　from　the　dismaying　prospect　of　the　coming　days。

〃This　is　love；〃　Vandenesse　said　to　himself　this　time　as　he　left　the　Marquise；　〃and　for　my　misfortune　I　love　a　woman　wedded　to　her　memories。　It　is　hard　work　to　struggle　against　a　dead　rival；　never　present　to　make　blunders　and　fall　out　of　favor；　nothing　of　him　left　but　his　better　qualities。　What　is　it　but　a　sort　of　high　treason　against　the　Ideal　to　attempt　to　break　the　charm　of　memory；　to　destroy　the　hopes　that　survive　a　lost　lover；　precisely　because　he　only　awakened　longings；　and　all