a woman of thirty-第12部分

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a　man　is　neither　man　nor　woman；　but　a　being　who　lays　aside　all　the　charms　of　her　womanhood　along　with　its　misfortunes；　yet　acquires　none　of　the　privileges　which　our　laws　give　to　the　stronger　sex。　Beneath　the　surface　her　life　was　a　bitter　mockery。　Was　she　not　compelled　to　protect　her　protector；　to　worship　a　hollow　idol；　a　poor　creature　who　flung　her　the　love　of　a　selfish　husband　as　the　wages　of　her　continual　self…sacrifice；　who　saw　nothing　in　her　but　the　woman；　and　who　either　did　not　think　it　worth　while；　or　（wrong　quite　as　deep）　did　not　think　at　all　of　troubling　himself　about　her　pleasures；　of　inquiring　into　the　cause　of　her　low　spirits　and　dwindling　health？　And　the　Marquis；　like　most　men　who　chafe　under　a　wife's　superiority；　saved　his　self…love　by　arguing　from　Julie's　physical　feebleness　a　corresponding　lack　of　mental　power；　for　which　he　was　pleased　to　pity　her；　and　he　would　cry　out　upon　fate　which　had　given　him　a　sickly　girl　for　a　wife。　The　executioner　posed；　in　fact；　as　the　victim。

All　the　burdens　of　this　dreary　lot　fell　upon　the　Marquise；　who　still　must　smile　upon　her　foolish　lord；　and　deck　a　house　of　mourning　with　flowers；　and　make　a　parade　of　happiness　in　a　countenance　wan　with　secret　torture。　And　with　this　sense　of　responsibility　for　the　honor　of　both；　with　the　magnificent　immolation　of　self；　the　young　Marquise　unconsciously　acquired　a　wifely　dignity；　a　consciousness　of　virtue　which　became　her　safeguard　amid　many　dangers。

Perhaps；　if　her　heart　were　sounded　to　the　very　depths；　this　intimate　closely　hidden　wretchedness；　following　upon　her　unthinking；　girlish　first　love；　had　roused　in　her　an　abhorrence　of　passion；　possibly　she　had　no　conception　of　its　rapture；　nor　of　the　forbidden　but　frenzied　bliss　for　which　some　women　will　renounce　all　the　laws　of　prudence　and　the　principles　of　conduct　upon　which　society　is　based。　She　put　from　her　like　a　dream　the　thought　of　bliss　and　tender　harmony　of　love　promised　by　Mme。　de　Listomere…Landon's　mature　experience；　and　waited　resignedly　for　the　end　of　her　troubles　with　a　hope　that　she　might　die　young。

Her　health　had　declined　daily　since　her　return　from　Touraine；　her　life　seemed　to　be　measured　to　her　in　suffering；　yet　her　ill…health　was　graceful；　her　malady　seemed　little　more　than　languor；　and　might　well　be　taken　by　careless　eyes　for　a　fine　lady's　whim　of　invalidism。

Her　doctors　had　condemned　her　to　keep　to　the　sofa；　and　there　among　her　flowers　lay　the　Marquise；　fading　as　they　faded。　She　was　not　strong　enough　to　walk；　nor　to　bear　the　open　air；　and　only　went　out　in　a　closed　carriage。　Yet　with　all　the　marvels　of　modern　luxury　and　invention　about　her；　she　looked　more　like　an　indolent　queen　than　an　invalid。　A　few　of　her　friends；　half　in　love　perhaps　with　her　sad　plight　and　her　fragile　look；　sure　of　finding　her　at　home；　and　speculating　no　doubt　upon　her　future　restoration　to　health；　would　come　to　bring　her　the　news　of　the　day；　and　kept　her　informed　of　the　thousand　and　one　small　events　which　fill　life　in　Paris　with　variety。　Her　melancholy；　deep　and　real　though　it　was　was　still　the　melancholy　of　a　woman　rich　in　many　ways。　The　Marquise　d'Aiglemont　was　like　a　flower；　with　a　dark　insect　gnawing　at　its　root。

Occasionally　she　went　into　society；　not　to　please　herself；　but　in　obedience　to　the　exigencies　of　the　position　which　her　husband　aspired　to　take。　In　society　her　beautiful　voice　and　the　perfection　of　her　singing　could　always　gain　the　social　success　so　gratifying　to　a　young　woman；　but　what　was　social　success　to　her；　who　drew　nothing　from　it　for　her　heart　or　her　hopes？　Her　husband　did　not　care　for　music。　And；　moreover；　she　seldom　felt　at　her　ease　in　salons；　where　her　beauty　attracted　homage　not　wholly　disinterested。　Her　position　excited　a　sort　of　cruel　compassion；　a　morbid　curiosity。　She　was　suffering　from　an　inflammatory　complaint　not　infrequently　fatal；　for　which　our　nosology　as　yet　has　found　no　name；　a　complaint　spoken　of　among　women　in　confidential　whispers。　In　spite　of　the　silence　in　which　her　life　was　spent；　the　cause　of　her　ill…health　was　no　secret。　She　was　still　but　a　girl　in　spite　of　her　marriage；　the　slightest　glance　threw　her　into　confusion。　In　her　endeavor　not　to　blush；　she　was　always　laughing；　always　apparently　in　high　spirits；　she　would　never　admit　that　she　was　not　perfectly　well；　and　anticipated　questions　as　to　her　health　by　shame…stricken　subterfuges。

In　1817；　however；　an　event　took　place　which　did　much　to　alleviate　Julie's　hitherto　deplorable　existence。　A　daughter　was　born　to　her；　and　she　determined　to　nurse　her　child　herself。　For　two　years　motherhood；　its　all…absorbing　multiplicity　of　cares　and　anxious　joys；　made　life　less　hard　for　her。　She　and　her　husband　lived　necessarily　apart。　Her　physicians　predicted　improved　health；　but　the　Marquise　herself　put　no　faith　in　these　auguries　based　on　theory。　Perhaps；　like　many　a　one　for　whom　life　has　lost　its　sweetness；　she　looked　forward　to　death　as　a　happy　termination　of　the　drama。

But　with　the　beginning　of　the　year　1819　life　grew　harder　than　ever。　Even　while　she　congratulated　herself　upon　the　negative　happiness　which　she　had　contrived　to　win；　she　caught　a　terrifying　glimpse　of　yawning　depths　below　it。　She　had　passed　by　degrees　out　of　her　husband's　life。　Her　fine　tact　and　her　prudence　told　her　that　misfortune　must　come；　and　that　not　singly；　of　this　cooling　of　an　affection　already　lukewarm　and　wholly　selfish。　Sure　though　she　was　of　her　ascendency　over　Victor；　and　certain　as　she　felt　of　his　unalterable　esteem；　she　dreaded　the　influence　of　unbridled　passions　upon　a　head　so　empty；　so　full　of　rash　self…conceit。

Julie's　friends　often　found　her　absorbed　in　prolonged　musings；　the　less　clairvoyant　among　them　would　jestingly　ask　her　what　she　was　thinking　about；　as　if　a　young　wife　would　think　of　nothing　but　frivolity；　as　if　there　were　not　almost　always　a　depth　of　seriousness　in　a　mother's　thoughts。　Unhappiness；　like　great　happiness；　induces　dreaming。　Sometimes　as　Julie　played　with　her　little　Helene；　she　would　gaze　darkly　at　her；　giving　no　reply　to　the　childish　questions　in　which　a　mother　delights；　questioning　the　present　and　the　future　as　to　the　destiny　of　this　little　one。　Then　some　sudden　recollection　would　bring　back　the　scene　of　the　review　at　the　Tuileries　and　fill　her　eyes　with　tears。　Her　father's　prophetic　warnings　rang　in　her　ears；　and　conscience　reproached　her　that　she　had　not　recognized　its　wisdom。　Her　troubles　had　all　come　of　her　own　wayward　folly；　and　often　she　knew　not　which　among　so　many　were　the　hardest　to　bear。　The　sweet　treasures　of　her　soul　were　unheeded；　and　not　only　so；　she　could　never　succeed　in　making　her　husband　understand　her；　even　in　the　commonest　everyday　things。　Just　as　the　power　to　love　developed　and　grew　strong　and　active；　a　legitimate　channel　for　the　affections　of　her　nature　was　denied　her；　and　wedded　love　was　extinguished　in　grave　physical　and　mental　sufferings。　Add　to　this　that　she　now　felt　for　her　husband　that　pity　closely　bordering　upon　contempt；　which　withers　all　affection　at　last。　Even　if　she　had　not　learned　from　conversations　with　some　of　her　friends；　from　examples　in　life；　from　sundry　occurrences　in　the　great　world；　that　love　can　bring　ineffable　bliss；　her　own　wounds　would　have　taught　her　to　divine　th