the lily of the valley-第25章

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which　are　limitless；　they　rise　to　the　grandeur　of　the　highest　moral

conceptionsbe　it　the　heather　in　bloom；　covered　with　the　diamonds　of

the　dew　on　which　the　sunlight　dances；　infinitude　decked　for　the　single

glance　that　may　chance　to　fall　upon　it：be　it　a　corner　of　the　forest

hemmed　in　with　time…worn　rocks　crumbling　to　gravel　and　clothed　with

mosses　overgrown　with　juniper；　which　grasps　our　minds　as　something

savage；　aggressive；　terrifying　as　the　cry　of　the　kestrel　issuing　from

it：be　it　a　hot　and　barren　moor　without　vegetation；　stony；　rigid；　its

horizon　like　those　of　the　desert；　where　once　I　gathered　a　sublime　and

solitary　flower；　the　anemone　pulsatilla；　with　its　violet　petals

opening　for　the　golden　stamens；　affecting　image　of　my　pure　idol　alone

in　her　valley：be　it　great　sheets　of　water；　where　nature　casts　those

spots　of　greenery；　a　species　of　transition　between　the　plant　and

animal；　where　life　makes　haste　to　come　in　flowers　and　insects；

floating　there　like　worlds　in　ether：be　it　a　cottage　with　its　garden

of　cabbages；　its　vineyards；　its　hedges　overhanging　a　bog；　surrounded

by　a　few　sparse　fields　of　rye；　true　image　of　many　humble　existences：

be　it　a　forest　path　like　some　cathedral　nave；　where　the　trees　are

columns　and　their　branches　arch　the　roof；　at　the　far　end　of　which　a

light　breaks　through；　mingled　with　shadows　or　tinted　with　sunset　reds

athwart　the　leaves　which　gleam　like　the　colored　windows　of　a　chancel：

then；　leaving　these　woods　so　cool　and　branchy；　behold　a　chalk…land

lying　fallow；　where　among　the　warm　and　cavernous　mosses　adders　glide

to　their　lairs；　or　lift　their　proud　slim　heads。　Cast　upon　all　these

pictures　torrents　of　sunlight　like　beneficent　waters；　or　the　shadow　of

gray　clouds　drawn　in　lines　like　the　wrinkles　of　an　old　man's　brow；　or

the　cool　tones　of　a　sky　faintly　orange　and　streaked　with　lines　of　a

paler　tint；　then　listenyou　will　hear　indefinable　harmonies　amid　a

silence　which　blends　them　all。



During　the　months　of　September　and　October　I　did　not　make　a　single

bouquet　which　cost　me　less　than　three　hours　search；　so　much　did　I

admire；　with　the　real　sympathy　of　a　poet；　these　fugitive　allegories　of

human　life；　that　vast　theatre　I　was　about　to　enter；　the　scenes　of

which　my　memory　must　presently　recall。　Often　do　I　now　compare　those

splendid　scenes　with　memories　of　my　soul　thus　expending　itself　on

nature；　again　I　walk　that　valley　with　my　sovereign；　whose　white　robe

brushed　the　coppice　and　floated　on　the　green　sward；　whose　spirit　rose；

like　a　promised　fruit；　from　each　calyx　filled　with　amorous　stamens。



No　declaration　of　love；　no　vows　of　uncontrollable　passion　ever

conveyed　more　than　these　symphonies　of　flowers；　my　baffled　desires

impelled　me　to　efforts　of　expression　through　them　like　those　of

Beethoven　through　his　notes；　to　the　same　bitter　reactions；　to　the　same

mighty　bounds　towards　heaven。　In　their　presence　Madame　de　Mortsauf　was

my　Henriette。　She　looked　at　them　constantly；　they　fed　her　spirit；　she

gathered　all　the　thoughts　I　had　given　them；　saying；　as　she　raised　her

head　from　the　embroidery　frame　to　receive　my　gift；　〃Ah；　how

beautiful！〃



Natalie；　you　will　understand　this　delightful　intercourse　through　the

details　of　a　bouquet；　just　as　you　would　comprehend　Saadi　from　a

fragment　of　his　verse。　Have　you　ever　smelt　in　the　fields　in　the　month

of　May　the　perfume　that　communicates　to　all　created　beings　the

intoxicating　sense　of　a　new　creation；　the　sense　that　makes　you　trail

your　hand　in　the　water　from　a　boat；　and　loosen　your　hair　to　the　breeze

while　your　mind　revives　with　the　springtide　greenery　of　the　trees？　A

little　plant；　a　species　of　vernal　grass；　is　a　powerful　element　in　this

veiled　harmony；　it　cannot　be　worn　with　impunity；　take　into　your　hand

its　shining　blade；　striped　green　and　white　like　a　silken　robe；　and

mysterious　emotions　will　stir　the　rosebuds　your　modesty　keeps　hidden

in　the　depths　of　your　heart。　Round　the　neck　of　a　porcelain　vase

imagine　a　broad　margin　of　the　gray…white　tufts　peculiar　to　the　sedum

of　the　vineyards　of　Touraine；　vague　image　of　submissive　forms；　from

this　foundation　come　tendrils　of　the　bind…weed　with　its　silver　bells；

sprays　of　pink　rest…barrow　mingled　with　a　few　young　shoots　of　oak…

leaves；　lustrous　and　magnificently　colored；　these　creep　forth

prostrate；　humble　as　the　weeping…willow；　timid　and　supplicating　as

prayer。　Above；　see　those　delicate　threads　of　the　purple　amoret；　with

its　flood　of　anthers　that　are　nearly　yellow；　the　snowy　pyramids　of　the

meadow…sweet；　the　green　tresses　of　the　wild　oats；　the　slender　plumes

of　the　agrostis；　which　we　call　wind…ear；　roseate　hopes；　decking　love's

earliest　dream　and　standing　forth　against　the　gray　surroundings。　But

higher　still；　remark　the　Bengal　roses；　sparsely　scattered　among　the

laces　of　the　daucus；　the　plumes　of　the　linaria；　the　marabouts　of　the

meadow…queen；　see　the　umbels　of　the　myrrh；　the　spun　glass　of　the

clematis　in　seed；　the　dainty　petals　of　the　cross…wort；　white　as　milk；

the　corymbs　of　the　yarrow；　the　spreading　stems　of　the　fumitory　with

their　black　and　rosy　blossoms；　the　tendrils　of　the　grape；　the　twisted

shoots　of　the　honeysuckle；　in　short；　all　the　innocent　creatures　have

that　is　most　tangled；　wayward；　wild；flames　and　triple　darts；　leaves

lanceolated　or　jagged；　stalks　convoluted　like　passionate　desires

writhing　in　the　soul。　From　the　bosom　of　this　torrent　of　love　rises　the

scarlet　poppy；　its　tassels　about　to　open；　spreading　its　flaming　flakes

above　the　starry　jessamine；　dominating　the　rain　of　pollenthat　soft

mist　fluttering　in　the　air　and　reflecting　the　light　in　its　myriad

particles。　What　woman　intoxicated　with　the　odor　of　the　vernal　grasses

would　fail　to　understand　this　wealth　of　offered　thoughts；　these　ardent

desires　of　a　love　demanding　the　happiness　refused　in　a　hundred

struggles　which　passion　still　renews；　continuous；　unwearying；　eternal！



Put　this　speech　of　the　flowers　in　the　light　of　a　window　to　show　its

crisp　details；　its　delicate　contrasts；　its　arabesques　of　color；　and

allow　the　sovereign　lady　to　see　a　tear　upon　some　petal　more　expanded

than　the　rest。　What　do　we　give　to　God？　perfumes；　light；　and　song；　the

purest　expression　of　our　nature。　Well；　these　offerings　to　God；　are

they　not　likewise　offered　to　love　in　this　poem　of　luminous　flowers

murmuring　their　sadness　to　the　heart；　cherishing　its　hidden

transports；　its　unuttered　hopes；　its　illusions　which　gleam　and　fall　to

fragments　like　the　gossamer　of　a　summer's　night？



Such　neutral　pleasures　help　to　soothe　a　nature　irritated　by　long

contemplation　of　the　person　beloved。　They　were　to　me；　I　dare　not　say

to　her；　like　those　fissures　in　a　dam　through　which　the　water　finds　a

vent　and　avoids　disaster。　Abstinence　brings　deadly　exhaustion；　which　a

few　crumbs　falling　from　heaven　like　manna　in　the　desert；　suffices　to

relieve。　Sometimes　I　found　my　Henriette　standing　before　these　bouquets

with　pendant　arms；　lost　in　agitated　reverie；　thoughts　swelling　her

bosom；　illumining　her　brow　as　they　surged　in　waves　and　sank　again；

leaving　lassitude　and　languor　behind　them。　Never　again　have　I　made　a

bouquet　for　any　one。　When　she　and　I　had　created　this　language　and

formed　it　to　our　uses；　a　satisfaction　filled　our　souls　like　that　of　a

slave　who　escapes　his　masters。



During　the　rest　of　this　month　as　I　came　from　the　meadows　through　the

gardens　I　often　saw　her　face　at　the　window；　and　when　I　reached　the

salon　she　was　ready　at　her　embroidery　frame。　If　I　did　not　arrive　at

the　hour　expected　（though　never　appointed）；　I　saw　a　white　form

wandering　on　the　terrace；　and　when　I　joined　her　she　would　say；　〃I　came

to　meet　you；　I　must　show　a　few　attentions　to　my　youngest　child。〃



The　miserable　games　of　backgammon　had　come　to　end。　The　count's　late

purchases　took　all　his　time　in　going　hither　and　thither　about　the

property；　surveying；　examining；　and　marking　the　boundaries　of　his　new

possessions。　He　had　orders　to　give；　rural　works　to　overlook　which

needed　a　master's　eye；all　of　them