modeste mignon-第22部分

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　　and　fancy　that　I　am　destined　to　die　for　one　I　love。　One　of　your

　　poems；　〃The　Maiden's　Song；〃　paints　these　delicious　moments；　when

　　gaiety　is　tender；　when　aspiration　is　a　need；　it　is　one　of　my

　　favorites。　Do　you　want　me　to　put　all　my　flatteries　into　one？well

　　then；　I　think　you　worthy　to　be　ME！



　　Your　letter；　though　short；　enables　me　to　read　within　you。　Yes；　I

　　have　guessed　your　tumultuous　struggles；　your　piqued　curiosity；

　　your　projects；　but　I　do　not　yet　know　you　well　enough　to　satisfy

　　your　wishes。　Hear　me；　dear；　the　mystery　in　which　I　am　shrouded

　　allows　me　to　use　that　word；　which　lets　you　see　to　the　bottom　of　my

　　heart。　Hear　me：　if　we　once　meet；　adieu　to　our　mutual

　　comprehension！　Will　you　make　a　compact　with　me？　Was　the　first

　　disadvantageous　to　you？　But　remember　it　won　you　my　esteem；　and　it

　　is　a　great　deal；　my　friend；　to　gain　an　admiration　lined　throughout

　　with　esteem。　Here　is　the　compact：　write　me　your　life　in　a　few

　　words；　then　tell　me　what　you　do　in　Paris；　day　by　day；　with　no

　　reservations；　and　as　if　you　were　talking　to　some　old　friend。　Well；

　　having　done　that；　I　will　take　a　step　myselfI　will　see　you；　I

　　promise　you　that。　And　it　is　a　great　deal。



　　This；　dear；　is　no　intrigue；　no　adventure；　no　gallantry；　as　you　men

　　say；　can　come　of　it；　I　warn　you　frankly。　It　involves　my　life；　and

　　more　than　that；something　that　causes　me　remorse　for　the　many

　　thoughts　that　fly　to　you　in　flocksit　involves　my　father's　and　my

　　mother's　life。　I　adore　them；　and　my　choice　must　please　them；　they

　　must　find　a　son　in　you。



　　Tell　me；　to　what　extent　can　the　superb　spirits　of　your　kind；　to

　　whom　God　has　given　the　wings　of　his　angels；　without　always　adding

　　their　amiability；how　far　can　they　bend　under　a　family　yoke；　and

　　put　up　with　its　little　miseries？　That　is　a　text　I　have　meditated

　　upon。　Ah！　though　I　said　to　my　heart　before　I　came　to　you；　Forward！

　　Onward！　it　did　not　tremble　and　palpitate　any　the　less　on　the　way；

　　and　I　did　not　conceal　from　myself　the　stoniness　of　the　path　nor

　　the　Alpine　difficulties　I　had　to　encounter。　I　thought　of　all　in　my

　　long；　long　meditations。　Do　I　not　know　that　eminent　men　like　you

　　have　known　the　love　they　have　inspired　quite　as　well　as　that　which

　　they　themselves　have　felt；　that　they　have　had　many　romances　in

　　their　lives；you　particularly；　who　send　forth　those　airy　visions

　　of　your　soul　that　women　rush　to　buy？　Yet　still　I　cried　to　myself；

　　〃Onward！〃　because　I　have　studied；　more　than　you　give　me　credit

　　for；　the　geography　of　the　great　summits　of　humanity；　which　you

　　tell　me　are　so　cold。　Did　you　not　say　that　Goethe　and　Byron　were

　　the　colossi　of　egoism　and　poetry？　Ah；　my　friend；　there　you　shared

　　a　mistake　into　which　superficial　minds　are　apt　to　fall；　but　in　you

　　perhaps　it　came　from　generosity；　false　modesty；　or　the　desire　to

　　escape　from　me。　Vulgar　minds　may　mistake　the　effect　of　toil　for

　　the　development　of　personal　character；　but　you　must　not。　Neither

　　Lord　Byron；　nor　Goethe；　nor　Walter　Scott；　nor　Cuvier；　nor　any

　　inventor；　belongs　to　himself；　he　is　the　slave　of　his　idea。　And

　　this　mysterious　power　is　more　jealous　than　a　woman；　it　sucks　their

　　blood；　it　makes　them　live；　it　makes　them　die　for　its　sake。　The

　　visible　developments　of　their　hidden　existence　do　seem；　in　their

　　results；　like　egotism；　but　who　shall　dare　to　say　that　the　man　who

　　has　abnegated　self　to　give　pleasure；　instruction；　or　grandeur　to

　　his　epoch；　is　an　egoist？　Is　a　mother　selfish　when　she　immolates

　　all　things　to　her　child？　Well；　the　detractors　of　genius　do　not

　　perceive　its　fecund　maternity；　that　is　all。　The　life　of　a　poet　is

　　so　perpetual　a　sacrifice　that　he　needs　a　gigantic　organization　to

　　bear　even　the　ordinary　pleasures　of　life。　Therefore；　into　what

　　sorrows　may　he　not　fall　when；　like　Moliere；　he　wishes　to　live　the

　　life　of　feeling　in　its　most　poignant　crises；　to　me；　remembering

　　his　personal　life；　Moliere's　comedy　is　horrible。



　　The　generosity　of　genius　seems　to　me　half　divine；　and　I　place　you

　　in　this　noble　family　of　alleged　egoists。　Ah！　if　I　had　found　self…

　　interest；　ambition；　a　seared　nature　where　I　now　can　see　my　best

　　loved　flowers　of　the　soul；　you　know　not　what　long　anguish　I　should

　　have　had　to　bear。　I　met　with　disappointment　before　I　was　sixteen。

　　What　would　have　become　of　me　had　I　learned　at　twenty　that　fame　is

　　a　lie；　that　he　whose　books　express　the　feelings　hidden　in　my　heart

　　was　incapable　of　feeling　them　himself？　Oh！　my　friend；　do　you　know

　　what　would　have　become　of　me？　Shall　I　take　you　into　the　recesses

　　of　my　soul？　I　should　have　gone　to　my　father　and　said；　〃Bring　me

　　the　son…in…law　whom　you　desire；　my　will　abdicates；marry　me　to

　　whom　you　please。〃　And　the　man　might　have　been　a　notary；　banker；

　　miser；　fool；　dullard；　wearisome　as　a　rainy　day；　common　as　the

　　usher　of　a　school；　a　manufacturer；　or　some　brave　soldier　without

　　two　ideas；he　would　have　had　a　resigned　and　attentive　servant　in

　　me。　But　what　an　awful　suicide！　never　could　my　soul　have　expanded

　　in　the　life…giving　rays　of　a　beloved　sun。　No　murmur　should　have

　　revealed　to　my　father；　or　my　mother；　or　my　children　the　suicide　of

　　the　creature　who　at　this　instant　is　shaking　her　fetters；　casting

　　lightnings　from　her　eyes；　and　flying　towards　you　with　eager　wing。

　　See；　she　is　there；　at　the　angle　of　your　desk；　like　Polyhymnia；

　　breathing　the　air　of　your　presence；　and　glancing　about　her　with　a

　　curious　eye。　Sometimes　in　the　fields　where　my　husband　would　have

　　taken　me　to　walk；　I　should　have　wept；　apart　and　secretly；　at　sight

　　of　a　glorious　morning；　and　in　my　heart；　or　hidden　in　a　bureau…

　　drawer；　I　might　have　kept　some　treasure；　the　comfort　of　poor　girls

　　ill…used　by　love；　sad；　poetic　souls；but　ah！　I　have　YOU；　I

　　believe　in　YOU；　my　friend。　That　belief　straightens　all　my　thoughts

　　and　fancies；　even　the　most　fantastic；　and　sometimessee　how　far

　　my　frankness　leads　meI　wish　I　were　in　the　middle　of　the　book　we

　　are　just　beginning；　such　persistency　do　I　feel　in　my　sentiments；

　　such　strength　in　my　heart　to　love；　such　constancy　sustained　by

　　reason；　such　heroism　for　the　duties　for　which　I　was　created；if

　　indeed　love　can　ever　be　transmuted　into　duty。



　　If　you　were　able　to　follow　me　to　the　exquisite　retreat　where　I

　　fancy　ourselves　happy；　if　you　knew　my　plans　and　projects；　the

　　dreadful　word　〃folly！〃　might　escape　you；　and　I　should　be　cruelly

　　punished　for　sending　poetry　to　a　poet。　Yes；　I　wish　to　be　a　spring

　　of　waters　inexhaustible　as　a　fertile　land　for　the　twenty　years

　　that　nature　allows　me　to　shine。　I　want　to　drive　away　satiety　by

　　charm。　I　mean　to　be　courageous　for　my　friend　as　most　women　are　for

　　the　world。　I　wish　to　vary　happiness。　I　wish　to　put　intelligence

　　into　tenderness；　and　to　give　piquancy　to　fidelity。　I　am　filled

　　with　ambition　to　kill　the　rivals　of　the　past；　to　conjure　away　all

　　outside　griefs　by　a　wife's　gentleness；　by　her　proud　abnegation；　to

　　take　a　lifelong　care　of　the　nest；such　as　birds　can　only　take　for

　　a　few　weeks。



　　Tell　me；　do　you　now　think　me　to　blame　for　my　first　letter？　The

　　mysterious　wind　of　will　drove　me　to　you；　as　the　tempest　brings　the

　　little　rose…tree　to　the　pollard　window。　In　your　letter；　which　I

　　hold　here　upon　my　heart；　you　cried　out；　like　your　ancestor　when　he

　　departed　for　the　Crusades；　〃God　wills　it。〃



　　Ah！　but　you　will　cry　out；　〃What　a　chatterbox！〃　All　the　people

　　round　me　say；　on　the　contrary；　〃Mademoiselle　is　very　taciturn。〃



O。　d'Este　M。







CHAPTER　XI



WHAT　COMES　OF　CORRESPONDENCE



The　foregoing　letters　seemed　very　original　to　the　persons　from　whom

the　author　of　the　〃Comedy　of　Human　Life〃　obtained　them；　but　their

interest　in　this　duel；　this　crossing　of　pens　between　two　minds；　may

not　be　shared。　For　every　hundred　readers；　eighty　might　weary　of　the

battle。　The　respect　due　to　the　majority　in　every　nation　under　a

constitutional　government；　leads　us；　therefore；　to　suppress　eleven

other　letters　exchanged　between　Ernest　and　Modeste　during　the　month　of

September。　If；　later　on；　some　flattering　majority　should　arise　to

claim　them；　let　us　hope　that　we　can　then　find　means　to　insert　them　in

their　proper　place。



Urged　by　a　mind　that　seemed　as　aggressive　as　the　heart　was　lovable；

the　truly　chivalrous　feelings　of　the　poor　secretary　gave　themselves

free　play　in　these　suppressed　letters；　which　seem；　perhaps；　more

beautiful　than　they　really　are；　because　the　imagination　is　charmed　by

a　sense　of　the　communion　of　two　free　souls。　Ernest's　whole　life　was

now　wrapped　up　in　these　sweet　scraps　of　paper；　they　were　to　him　what

banknotes　are　to　a　miser；　while　in　Modeste's　soul　a　deep　love　took　the

place　of　her　delight　in　agitating　a　glorious　life；　and　being；　in　spite

of　distance；　its　mainspring。　Ernest's　heart　was　the　complement　of

Canalis's　glory。　Alas！　it　often　takes　two　men　to　make　a　perfect　lover；

just　as　in　literature　we　com