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第62章

the lily of the valley-第62章

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towards her neighbor; I never saw a tear in her eye for the

misfortunes of another; in fact her selfishness was so naively candid

that it absolutely created a laugh。 The crimson draperies of the great

lady covered an iron nature。 The delightful siren who sounded at night

every bell of her amorous folly could soon make a young man forget the

hard and unfeeling Englishwoman; and it was only step by step that I

discovered the stony rock on which my seeds were wasted; bringing no

harvest。 Madame de Mortsauf had penetrated that nature at a glance in

their brief encounter。 I remembered her prophetic words。 She was

right; Arabella's love became intolerable to me。 I have since remarked

that most women who ride well on horseback have little tenderness。

Like the Amazons; they lack a breast; their hearts are hard in some

direction; but I do not know in which。



At the moment when I begin to feel the burden of the yoke; when

weariness took possession of soul and body too; when at last I

comprehended the sanctity that true feeling imparts to love; when

memories of Clochegourde were bringing me; in spite of distance; the

fragrance of the roses; the warmth of the terrace; and the warble of

the nightingales;at this frightful moment; when I saw the stony bed

beneath me as the waters of the torrent receded; I received a blow

which still resounds in my heart; for at every hour its echo wakes。



I was working in the cabinet of the king; who was to drive out at four

o'clock。 The Duc de Lenoncourt was on service。 When he entered the

room the king asked him news of the countess。 I raised my head hastily

in too eager a manner; the king; offended by the action; gave me the

look which always preceded the harsh words he knew so well how to say。



〃Sire; my poor daughter is dying;〃 replied the duke。



〃Will the king deign to grant me leave of absence?〃 I cried; with

tears in my eyes; braving the anger which I saw about to burst。



〃Go; MY LORD;〃 he answered; smiling at the satire in his words; and

withholding his reprimand in favor of his own wit。



More courtier than father; the duke asked no leave but got into the

carriage with the king。 I started without bidding Lady Dudley good…

bye; she was fortunately out when I made my preparations; and I left a

note telling her I was sent on a mission by the king。 At the Croix de

Berny I met his Majesty returning from Verrieres。 He threw me a look

full of his royal irony; always insufferable in meaning; which seemed

to say: 〃If you mean to be anything in politics come back; don't

parley with the dead。〃 The duke waved his hand to me sadly。 The two

pompous equipages with their eight horses; the colonels and their gold

lace; the escort and the clouds of dust rolled rapidly away; to cries

of 〃Vive le Roi!〃 It seemed to me that the court had driven over the

dead body of Madame de Mortsauf with the utter insensibility which

nature shows for our catastrophes。 Though the duke was an excellent

man he would no doubt play whist with Monsieur after the king had

retired。 As for the duchess; she had long ago given her daughter the

first stab by writing to her of Lady Dudley。



My hurried journey was like a dream;the dream of a ruined gambler; I

was in despair at having received no news。 Had the confessor pushed

austerity so far as to exclude me from Clochegourde? I accused

Madeleine; Jacques; the Abbe Dominis; all; even Monsieur de Mortsauf。

Beyond Tours; as I came down the road bordered with poplars which

leads to Poncher; which I so much admired that first day of my search

for mine Unknown; I met Monsieur Origet。 He guessed that I was going

to Clochegourde; I guessed that he was returning。 We stopped our

carriages and got out; I to ask for news; he to give it。



〃How is Madame de Mortsauf?〃 I said。



〃I doubt if you find her living;〃 he replied。 〃She is dying a

frightful deathof inanition。 When she called me in; last June; no

medical power could control the disease; she had the symptoms which

Monsieur de Mortsauf has no doubt described to you; for he thinks he

has them himself。 Madame la comtesse was not in any transient

condition of ill…health; which our profession can direct and which is

often the cause of a better state; nor was she in the crisis of a

disorder the effects of which can be repaired; no; her disease had

reached a point where science is useless; it is the incurable result

of grief; just as a mortal wound is the result of a stab。 Her physical

condition is produced by the inertia of an organ as necessary to life

as the action of the heart itself。 Grief has done the work of a

dagger。 Don't deceive yourself; Madame de Mortsauf is dying of some

hidden grief。〃



〃Hidden!〃 I exclaimed。 〃Her children have not been ill?〃



〃No;〃 he said; looking at me significantly; 〃and since she has been so

seriously attacked Monsieur de Mortsauf has ceased to torment her。 I

am no longer needed; Monsieur Deslandes of Azay is all…sufficient;

nothing can be done; her sufferings are dreadful。 Young; beautiful;

and rich; to die emaciated; shrunken with hungerfor she dies of

hunger! During the last forty days the stomach; being as it were

closed up; has rejected all nourishment; under whatever form we

attempt to give it。〃



Monsieur Origet pressed my hand with a gesture of respect。



〃Courage; monsieur;〃 he said; lifting his eyes to heaven。



The words expressed his compassion for sufferings he thought shared;

he little suspected the poisoned arrow which they shot into my heart。

I sprang into the carriage and ordered the postilion to drive on;

promising a good reward if I arrived in time。



Notwithstanding my impatience I seemed to do the distance in a few

minutes; so absorbed was I in the bitter reflections that crowded upon

my soul。 Dying of grief; yet her children were well? then she died

through me! My conscience uttered one of those arraignments which echo

throughout our lives and sometimes beyond them。 What weakness; what

impotence in human justice; which avenges none but open deeds! Why

shame and death to the murderer who kills with a blow; who comes upon

you unawares in your sleep and makes it last eternally; who strikes

without warning and spares you a struggle? Why a happy life; an

honored life; to the murderer who drop by drop pours gall into the

soul and saps the body to destroy it? How many murderers go

unpunished! What indulgence for fashionable vice! What condoning of

the homicides caused by moral wrongs! I know not whose avenging hand

it was that suddenly; at that moment; raised the painted curtain that

reveals society。 I saw before me many victims known to you and me;

Madame de Beauseant; dying; and starting for Normandy only a few days

earlier; the Duchesse de Langeais lost; Lady Brandon hiding herself in

Touraine in the little house where Lady Dudley had stayed two weeks;

and dying there; killed by a frightful catastrophe;you know it。 Our

period teems with such events。 Who does not remember that poor young

woman who poisoned herself; overcome by jealousy; which was perhaps

killing Madame de Mortsauf? Who has not shuddered at the fate of that

enchanting young girl who perished after two years of marriage; like a

flower torn by the wind; the victim of her chaste ignorance; the

victim of a villain with whom Ronquerolles; Montriveau; and de Marsay

shake hands because he is useful to their political projects? What

heart has failed to throb at the recital of the last hours of the

woman whom no entreaties could soften; and who would never see her

husband after nobly paying his debts? Madame d'Aiglemont saw death

beside her and was saved only by my brother's care。 Society and

science are accomplices in crimes for which there are no assizes。 The

world declares that no one dies of grief; or of despair; nor yet of

love; of anguish hidden; of hopes cultivated yet fruitless; again and

again replanted yet forever uprooted。 Our new scientific nomenclature

h

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