a woman of thirty-第27部分

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to　the　voice　of　religion。　The　pleasures　of　this　life　bring　nothing　but　misery。　You　are　about　to　make　an　exchange　of　sorrows；　that　is　all。〃

She　smiled　bitterly。

〃I　will　falsify　your　predictions；〃　she　said。　〃I　shall　be　faithful　to　him　who　died　for　me。〃

〃Sorrow；〃　he　answered；　〃is　not　likely　to　live　long　save　in　souls　disciplined　by　religion；〃　and　he　lowered　his　eyes　respectfully　lest　the　Marquise　should　read　his　doubts　in　them。　The　energy　of　her　outburst　had　grieved　him。　He　had　seen　the　self　that　lurked　beneath　so　many　forms；　and　despaired　of　softening　a　heart　which　affliction　seemed　to　sear。　The　divine　Sower's　seed　could　not　take　root　in　such　a　soil；　and　His　gentle　voice　was　drowned　by　the　clamorous　outcry　of　self…pity。　Yet　the　good　man　returned　again　and　again　with　an　apostle's　earnest　persistence；　brought　back　by　a　hope　of　leading　so　noble　and　proud　a　soul　to　God；　until　the　day　when　he　made　the　discovery　that　the　Marquise　only　cared　to　talk　with　him　because　it　was　sweet　to　speak　of　him　who　was　no　more。　He　would　not　lower　his　ministry　by　condoning　her　passion；　and　confined　the　conversation　more　and　more　to　generalities　and　commonplaces。

Spring　came；　and　with　the　spring　the　Marquise　found　distraction　from　her　deep　melancholy。　She　busied　herself　for　lack　of　other　occupation　with　her　estate；　making　improvements　for　amusement。

In　October　she　left　the　old　chateau。　In　the　life　of　leisure　at　Saint…　Lange　she　had　recovered　from　her　grief　and　grown　fair　and　fresh。　Her　grief　had　been　violent　at　first　in　its　course；　as　the　quoit　hurled　forth　with　all　the　player's　strength；　and　like　the　quoit　after　many　oscillations；　each　feebler　than　the　last；　it　had　slackened　into　melancholy。　Melancholy　is　made　up　of　a　succession　of　such　oscillations；　the　first　touching　upon　despair；　the　last　on　the　border　between　pain　and　pleasure；　in　youth；　it　is　the　twilight　of　dawn；　in　age；　the　dusk　of　night。

As　the　Marquise　drove　through　the　village　in　her　traveling　carriage；　she　met　the　cure　on　his　way　back　from　the　church。　She　bowed　in　response　to　his　farewell　greeting；　but　it　was　with　lowered　eyes　and　averted　face。　She　did　not　wish　to　see　him　again。　The　village　cure　had　judged　this　poor　Diana　of　Ephesus　only　too　well。



III。

AT　THIRTY　YEARS

Madame　Firmiani　was　giving　a　ball。　M。　Charles　de　Vandenesse；　a　young　man　of　great　promise；　the　bearer　of　one　of　those　historic　names　which；　in　spite　of　the　efforts　of　legislation；　are　always　associated　with　the　glory　of　France；　had　received　letters　of　introduction　to　some　of　the　great　lady's　friends　in　Naples；　and　had　come　to　thank　the　hostess　and　to　take　his　leave。

Vandenesse　had　already　acquitted　himself　creditably　on　several　diplomatic　missions；　and　now　that　he　had　received　an　appointment　as　attache　to　a　plenipotentiary　at　the　Congress　of　Laybach；　he　wished　to　take　advantage　of　the　opportunity　to　make　some　study　of　Italy　on　the　way。　This　ball　was　a　sort　of　farewell　to　Paris　and　its　amusements　and　its　rapid　whirl　of　life；　to　the　great　eddying　intellectual　centre　and　maelstrom　of　pleasure；　and　a　pleasant　thing　it　is　to　be　borne　along　by　the　current　of　this　sufficiently　slandered　great　city　of　Paris。　Yet　Charles　de　Vandenesse　had　little　to　regret；　accustomed　as　he　had　been　for　the　past　three　years　to　salute　European　capitals　and　turn　his　back　upon　them　at　the　capricious　bidding　of　a　diplomatist's　destiny。　Women　no　longer　made　any　impression　upon　him；　perhaps　he　thought　that　a　real　passion　would　play　too　large　a　part　in　a　diplomatist's　life；　or　perhaps　that　the　paltry　amusements　of　frivolity　were　too　empty　for　a　man　of　strong　character。　We　all　of　us　have　huge　claims　to　strength　of　character。　There　is　no　man　in　France；　be　he　ever　so　ordinary　a　member　of　the　rank　and　file　of　humanity；　that　will　waive　pretensions　to　something　beyond　mere　cleverness。

Charles；　young　though　he　washe　was　scarcely　turned　thirtylooked　at　life　with　a　philosophic　mind；　concerning　himself　with　theories　and　means　and　ends；　while　other　men　of　his　age　were　thinking　of　pleasure；　sentiments；　and　the　like　illusions。　He　forced　back　into　some　inner　depth　the　generosity　and　enthusiasms　of　youth；　and　by　nature　he　was　generous。　He　tried　hard　to　be　cool　and　calculating；　to　coin　the　fund　of　wealth　which　chanced　to　be　in　his　nature　into　gracious　manners；　and　courtesy；　and　attractive　arts；　'tis　the　proper　task　of　an　ambitious　man；　to　play　a　sorry　part　to　gain　〃a　good　position；〃　as　we　call　it　in　modern　days。

He　had　been　dancing；　and　now　he　gave　a　farewell　glance　over　the　rooms；　to　carry　away　a　distinct　impression　of　the　ball；　moved；　doubtless；　to　some　extent　by　the　feeling　which　prompts　a　theatre…goer　to　stay　in　his　box　to　see　the　final　tableau　before　the　curtain　falls。　But　M。　de　Vandenesse　had　another　reason　for　his　survey。　He　gazed　curiously　at　the　scene　before　him；　so　French　in　character　and　in　movement；　seeking　to　carry　away　a　picture　of　the　light　and　laughter　and　the　faces　at　this　Parisian　fete；　to　compare　with　the　novel　faces　and　picturesque　surroundings　awaiting　him　at　Naples；　where　he　meant　to　spend　a　few　days　before　presenting　himself　at　his　post。　He　seemed　to　be　drawing　the　comparison　now　between　this　France　so　variable；　changing　even　as　you　study　her；　with　the　manners　and　aspects　of　that　other　land　known　to　him　as　yet　only　by　contradictory　hearsay　tales　or　books　of　travel；　for　the　most　part　unsatisfactory。　Thoughts　of　a　somewhat　poetical　cast；　albeit　hackneyed　and　trite　to　our　modern　ideas；　crossed　his　brain；　in　response　to　some　longing　of　which；　perhaps；　he　himself　was　hardly　conscious；　a　desire　in　the　depths　of　a　heart　fastidious　rather　than　jaded；　vacant　rather　than　seared。

〃These　are　the　wealthiest　and　most　fashionable　women　and　the　greatest　ladies　in　Paris；〃　he　said　to　himself。　〃These　are　the　great　men　of　the　day；　great　orators　and　men　of　letters；　great　names　and　titles；　artists　and　men　in　power；　and　yet　in　it　all　it　seems　to　me　as　if　there　were　nothing　but　petty　intrigues　and　still…born　loves；　meaningless　smiles　and　causeless　scorn；　eyes　lighted　by　no　flame　within；　brain…power　in　abundance　running　aimlessly　to　waste。　All　those　pink…and…white　faces　are　here　not　so　much　for　enjoyment；　as　to　escape　from　dulness。　None　of　the　emotion　is　genuine。　If　you　ask　for　nothing　but　court　feathers　properly　adjusted；　fresh　gauzes　and　pretty　toilettes　and　fragile；　fair　women；　if　you　desire　simply　to　skim　the　surface　of　life；　here　is　your　world　for　you。　Be　content　with　meaningless　phrases　and　fascinating　simpers；　and　do　not　ask　for　real　feeling。　For　my　own　part；　I　abhor　the　stale　intrigues　which　end　in　sub…prefectures　and　receiver…generals'　places　and　marriages；　or；　if　love　comes　into　the　question；　in　stealthy　compromises；　so　ashamed　are　we　of　the　mere　semblance　of　passion。　Not　a　single　one　of　all　these　eloquent　faces　tells　you　of　a　soul；　a　soul　wholly　absorbed　by　one　idea　as　by　remorse。　Regrets　and　misfortune　go　about　shame…facedly　clad　in　jests。　There　is　not　one　woman　here　whose　resistance　I　should　care　to　overcome；　not　one　who　could　drag　you　down　to　the　pit。　Where　will　you　find　energy　in　Paris？　A　poniard　here　is　a　curious　toy　to　hang　from　a　gilt　nail；　in　a　picturesque　sheath　to　match。　The　women；　the　brains；　and　hearts　of　Paris　are　all