the lily of the valley-第15章

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man　condemned　to　live　buried　on　his　property　an　Elbee；　a　Bonchamp；　or

a　Charette。　In　presence　of　certain　ideas　his　nostril　contracted；　his

forehead　cleared；　and　his　eyes　shot　lightnings；　which　were　soon

quenched。　Sometimes　I　feared　he　might　detect　the　language　of　my　eyes

and　kill　me。　I　was　young　then　and　merely　tender。　Will；　that　force　that

alters　men　so　strangely；　had　scarcely　dawned　within　me。　My　passionate

desires　shook　me　with　an　emotion　that　was　like　the　throes　of　fear。

Death　I　feared　not；　but　I　would　not　die　until　I　knew　the　happiness　of

mutual　loveBut　how　tell　of　what　I　felt！　I　was　a　prey　to　perplexity；

I　hoped　for　some　fortunate　chance；　I　watched；　I　made　the　children　love

me；　I　tried　to　identify　myself　with　the　family。



Little　by　little　the　count　restrained　himself　less　in　my　presence。　I

came　to　know　his　sudden　outbreaks　of　temper；　his　deep　and　ceaseless

melancholy；　his　flashes　of　brutality；　his　bitter；　cutting　complaints；

his　cold　hatreds；　his　impulses　of　latent　madness；　his　childish　moans；

his　cries　of　a　man's　despair；　his　unexpected　fury。　The　moral　nature

differs　from　the　physical　nature　inasmuch　as　nothing　is　absolute　in

it。　The　force　of　effects　is　in　direct　proportion　to　the　characters　or

the　ideas　which　are　grouped　around　some　fact。　My　position　at

Clochegourde；　my　future　life；　depended　on　this　one　eccentric　will。



I　cannot　describe　to　you　the　distress　that　filled　my　soul　（as　quick　in

those　days　to　expand　as　to　contract）；　whenever　I　entered　Clochegourde；

and　asked　myself；　〃How　will　he　receive　me？〃　With　what　anxiety　of　heart

I　saw　the　clouds　collecting　on　that　stormy　brow。　I　lived　in　a

perpetual　〃qui…vive。〃　I　fell　under　the　dominion　of　that　man；　and　the

sufferings　I　endured　taught　me　to　understand　those　of　Madame　de

Mortsauf。　We　began　by　exchanging　looks　of　comprehension；　tried　by　the

same　fire；　how　many　discoveries　I　made　during　those　first　forty　days！

of　actual　bitterness；　of　tacit　joys；　of　hopes　alternately　submerged

and　buoyant。　One　evening　I　found　her　pensively　watching　a　sunset　which

reddened　the　summits　with　so　ravishing　a　glow　that　it　was　impossible

not　to　listen　to　that　voice　of　the　eternal　Song　of　Songs　by　which

Nature　herself　bids　all　her　creatures　love。　Did　the　lost　illusions　of

her　girlhood　return　to　her？　Did　the　woman　suffer　from　an　inward

comparison？　I　fancied　I　perceived　a　desolation　in　her　attitude　that

was　favorable　to　my　first　appeal；　and　I　said；　〃Some　days　are　hard　to

bear。〃



〃You　read　my　soul；〃　she　answered；　〃but　how　have　you　done　so？〃



〃We　touch　at　many　points；〃　I　replied。　〃Surely　we　belong　to　the　small

number　of　human　beings　born　to　the　highest　joys　and　the　deepest

sorrows；　whose　feeling　qualities　vibrate　in　unison　and　echo　each　other

inwardly；　whose　sensitive　natures　are　in　harmony　with　the　principle　of

things。　Put　such　beings　among　surroundings　where　all　is　discord　and

they　suffer　horribly；　just　as　their　happiness　mounts　to　exaltation

when　they　meet　ideas；　or　feelings；　or　other　beings　who　are　congenial

to　them。　But　there　is　still　a　third　condition；　where　sorrows　are　known

only　to　souls　affected　by　the　same　distress；　in　this　alone　is　the

highest　fraternal　comprehension。　It　may　happen　that　such　souls　find　no

outlet　either　for　good　or　evil。　Then　the　organ　within　us　endowed　with

expression　and　motion　is　exercised　in　a　void；　expends　its　passion

without　an　object；　utters　sounds　without　melody；　and　cries　that　are

lost　in　solitude；terrible　defeat　of　a　soul　which　revolts　against　the

inutility　of　nothingness。　These　are　struggles　in　which　our　strength

oozes　away　without　restraint；　as　blood　from　an　inward　wound。　The

sensibilities　flow　to　waste　and　the　result　is　a　horrible　weakening　of

the　soul；　an　indescribable　melancholy　for　which　the　confessional

itself　has　no　ears。　Have　I　not　expressed　our　mutual　sufferings？〃



She　shuddered；　and　then　without　removing　her　eyes　from　the　setting

sun；　she　said；　〃How　is　it　that；　young　as　you　are；　you　know　these

things？　Were　you　once　a　woman？〃



〃Ah！〃　I　replied；　〃my　childhood　was　like　a　long　illness〃



〃I　hear　Madeleine　coughing；〃　she　cried；　leaving　me　abruptly。



The　countess　showed　no　displeasure　at　my　constant　visits；　and　for　two

reasons。　In　the　first　place　she　was　pure　as　a　child；　and　her　thoughts

wandered　into　no　forbidden　regions；　in　the　next　I　amused　the　count　and

made　a　sop　for　that　lion　without　claws　or　mane。　I　found　an　excuse　for

my　visits　which　seemed　plausible　to　every　one。　Monsieur　de　Mortsauf

proposed　to　teach　me　backgammon；　and　I　accepted；　as　I　did　so　the

countess　was　betrayed　into　a　look　of　compassion；　which　seemed　to　say；

〃You　are　flinging　yourself　into　the　jaws　of　the　lion。〃　If　I　did　not

understand　this　at　the　time；　three　days　had　not　passed　before　I　knew

what　I　had　undertaken。　My　patience；　which　nothing　exhausts；　the　fruit

of　my　miserable　childhood；　ripened　under　this　last　trial。　The　count

was　delighted　when　he　could　jeer　at　me　for　not　putting　in　practice　the

principles　or　the　rules　he　had　explained；　if　I　reflected　before　I

played　he　complained　of　my　slowness；　if　I　played　fast　he　was　angry

because　I　hurried　him；　if　I　forgot　to　mark　my　points　he　declared；

making　his　profit　out　of　the　mistake；　that　I　was　always　too　rapid。　It

was　like　the　tyranny　of　a　schoolmaster；　the　despotism　of　the　rod；　of

which　I　can　really　give　you　no　idea　unless　I　compare　myself　to

Epictetus　under　the　yoke　of　a　malicious　child。　When　we　played　for

money　his　winnings　gave　him　the　meanest　and　most　abject　delight。



A　word　from　his　wife　was　enough　to　console　me；　and　it　frequently

recalled　him　to　a　sense　of　politeness　and　good…breeding。　But　before

long　I　fell　into　the　furnace　of　an　unexpected　misery。　My　money　was

disappearing　under　these　losses。　Though　the　count　was　always　present

during　my　visits　until　I　left　the　house；　which　was　sometimes　very

late；　I　cherished　the　hope　of　finding　some　moment　when　I　might　say　a

word　that　would　reach　my　idol's　heart；　but　to　obtain　that　moment；　for

which　I　watched　and　waited　with　a　hunter's　painful　patience；　I　was

forced　to　continue　these　weary　games；　during　which　my　feelings　were

lacerated　and　my　money　lost。　Still；　there　were　moments　when　we　were

silent；　she　and　I；　looking　at　the　sunlight　on　the　meadows；　the　clouds

in　a　gray　sky；　the　misty　hills；　or　the　quivering　of　the　moon　on　the

sandbanks　of　the　river；　saying　only；　〃Night　is　beautiful！〃



〃Night　is　woman；　madame。〃



〃What　tranquillity！〃



〃Yes；　no　one　can　be　absolutely　wretched　here。〃



Then　she　would　return　to　her　embroidery　frame。　I　came　at　last　to　hear

the　inward　beatings　of　an　affection　which　sought　its　object。　But　the

fact　remainedwithout　money；　farewell　to　these　evenings。　I　wrote　to

my　mother　to　send　me　some。　She　scolded　me　and　sent　only　enough　to　last

a　week。　Where　could　I　get　more？　My　life　depended　on　it。　Thus　it

happened　that　in　the　dawn　of　my　first　great　happiness　I　found　the　same

sufferings　that　assailed　me　elsewhere；　but　in　Paris；　at　college；　at

school　I　evaded　them　by　abstinence；　there　my　privations　were　negative；

at　Frapesle　they　were　active；　so　active　that　I　was　possessed　by　the

impulse　to　theft；　by　visions　of　crime；　furious　desperations　which　rend

the　soul　and　must　be　subdued　under　pain　of　losing　our　self…respect。

The　memory　of　what　I　suffered　through　my　mother's　parsimony　taught　me

that　indulgence　for　young　men　which　one　who　has　stood　upon　the　brink

of　the　abyss　and　measured　its　depths；　without　falling　into　them；　must

inevitably　feel。　Though　my　own　rectitude　was　strengthened　by　those

moments　when　life　opened　and　let　me　see　the　rocks　and　quicksands

beneath　the　surface；　I　have　never　known　that　terrible　thing　called

human　justice　draw　its　blade　through　the　throat　of　a　criminal　without

saying　to　myself：　〃Penal　laws　are　made　by　men　who　have　never　known

misery。〃



At　this　crisis　I　happened　to　find　a　treatise　on　backgammon　in　Monsieur

de　Chessel's　library；　and　I　studied　it。　My　host　was　kind　enough　to

give　me　a