letters of two brides-第50章

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puzzle；　chattering　all　the　time；　till　at　last　he　finds　some　chink　in
the　obstacle；　if　there　is　room　for　the　blade　of　a　knife　to　pass；　his
little　carriage　will　ride　through　in　triumph。

And　Nais？　Nais　is　so　completely　a　second　self　that　I　can　hardly
realize　her　as　distinct　from　my　own　flesh　and　blood。　What　a　darling
she　is；　and　how　I　love　to　make　a　little　lady　of　her；　to　dress　her
curly　hair；　tender　thoughts　mingling　the　while　with　every　touch！　I
must　have　her　happy；　I　shall　only　give　her　to　the　man　who　loves　her
and　whom　she　loves。　But；　Heavens！　when　I　let　her　put　on　her　little
ornaments；　or　pass　a　cherry…colored　ribbon　through　her　hair；　or　fasten
the　shoes　on　her　tiny　feet；　a　sickening　thought　comes　over　me。　How　can
one　order　the　destiny　of　a　girl？　Who　can　say　that　she　will　not　love　a
scoundrel　or　some　man　who　is　indifferent　to　her？　Tears　often　spring　to
my　eyes　as　I　watch　her。　This　lovely　creature；　this　flower；　this
rosebud　which　has　blossomed　in　one's　heart；　to　be　handed　over　to　a　man
who　will　tear　it　from　the　stem　and　leave　it　bare！　Louise；　it　is　you
you；　who　in　two　years　have　not　written　three　words　to　tell　me　of　your
welfareit　is　you　who　have　recalled　to　my　mind　the　terrible
possibilities　of　marriage；　so　full　of　anguish　for　a　mother　wrapped　up；
as　I　am；　in　her　child。　Farewell　now；　for　in　truth　you　don't　deserve　my
friendship；　and　I　hardly　know　how　to　write。　Oh！　answer　me；　dear
Louise。



LII

MME。　GASTON　TO　MME。　DE　L'ESTORADE
The　Chalet。

So；　after　a　silence　of　two　years；　you　are　pricked　by　curiosity；　and
want　to　know　why　I　have　not　written。　My　dear　Renee；　there　are　no
words；　no　images；　no　language　to　express　my　happiness。　That　we　have
strength　to　bear　it　sums　up　all　I　could　say。　It　costs　us　no　effort；
for　we　are　in　perfect　sympathy。　The　whole　two　years　have　known　no　note
of　discord　in　the　harmony；　no　jarring　word　in　the　interchange　of
feeling；　no　shade　of　difference　in　our　lightest　wish。　Not　one　in　this
long　succession　of　days　has　failed　to　bear　its　own　peculiar　fruit；　not
a　moment　has　passed　without　being　enriched　by　the　play　of　fancy。　So
far　are　we　from　dreading　the　canker　of　monotony　in　our　life；　that　our
only　fear　is　lest　it　should　not　be　long　enough　to　contain　all　the
poetic　creations　of　a　love　as　rich　and　varied　in　its　development　as
Nature　herself。　Of　disappointment　not　a　trace！　We　find　more　pleasure
in　being　together　than　on　the　first　day；　and　each　hour　as　it　goes　by
discloses　fresh　reason　for　our　love。　Every　day　as　we　take　our　evening
stroll　after　dinner；　we　tell　each　other　that　we　really　must　go　and　see
what　is　doing　in　Paris；　just　as　one　might　talk　of　going　to
Switzerland。

〃Only　think；〃　Gaston　will　exclaim；　〃such　and　such　a　boulevard　is　being
made；　the　Madeleine　is　finished。　We　ought　to　see　it。　Let　us　go
to…morrow。〃

And　to…morrow　comes；　and　we　are　in　no　hurry　to　get　up；　and　we
breakfast　in　our　bedroom。　Then　midday　is　on　us；　and　it　is　too　hot；　a
siesta　seems　appropriate。　Then　Gaston　wishes　to　look　at　me；　and　he
gazes　on　my　face　as　though　it　were　a　picture；　losing　himself　in　this
contemplation；　which；　as　you　may　suppose；　is　not　one…sided。　Tears　rise
to　the　eyes　of　both　as　we　think　of　our　love　and　tremble。　I　am　still
the　mistress；　pretending；　that　is；　to　give　less　than　I　receive；　and　I
revel　in　this　deception。　To　a　woman　what　can　be　sweeter　than　to　see
passion　ever　held　in　check　by　tenderness；　and　the　man　who　is　her
master　stayed；　like　a　timid　suitor；　by　a　word　from　her；　within　the
limits　that　she　chooses？

You　asked　me　to　describe　him；　but；　Renee；　it　is　not　possible　to　make　a
portrait　of　the　man　we　love。　How　could　the　heart　be　kept　out　of　the
work？　Besides；　to　be　frank　between　ourselves；　we　may　admit　that　one　of
the　dire　effects　of　civilization　on　our　manners　is　to　make　of　man　in
society　a　being　so　utterly　different　from　the　natural　man　of　strong
feeling；　that　sometimes　not　a　single　point　of　likeness　can　be　found
between　these　two　aspects　of　the　same　person。　The　man　who　falls　into
the　most　graceful　operatic　poses；　as　he　pours　sweet　nothings　into　your
ear　by　the　fire　at　night；　may　be　entirely　destitute　of　those　more
intimate　charms　which　a　woman　values。　On　the　other　hand；　an　ugly；
boorish；　badly…dressed　figure　may　mark　a　man　endowed　with　the　very
genius　of　love；　and　who　has　a　perfect　mastery　over　situations　which
might　baffle　us　with　our　superficial　graces。　A　man　whose　conventional
aspect　accords　with　his　real　nature；　who；　in　the　intimacy　of　wedded
love；　possesses　that　inborn　grace　which　can　be　neither　given　nor
acquired；　but　which　Greek　art　has　embodied　in　statuary；　that　careless
innocence　of　the　ancient　poets　which；　even　in　frank　undress；　seems　to
clothe　the　soul　as　with　a　veil　of　modestythis　is　our　ideal；　born　of
our　own　conceptions；　and　linked　with　the　universal　harmony　which　seems
to　be　the　reality　underlying　all　created　things。　To　find　this　ideal　in
life　is　the　problem　which　haunts　the　imagination　of　every　womanin
Gaston　I　have　found　it。

Ah！　dear；　I　did　not　know　what　love　could　be；　united　to　youth；　talent；
and　beauty。　Gaston　has　no　affectations；　he　moves　with　an　instinctive
and　unstudied　grace。　When　we　walk　alone　together　in　the　woods；　his　arm
round　my　waist；　mine　resting　on　his　shoulder；　body　fitting　to　body；
and　head　touching　head；　our　step　is　so　even；　uniform；　and　gentle；　that
those　who　see　us　pass　by　night　take　the　vision　for　a　single　figure
gliding　over　the　graveled　walks；　like　one　of　Homer's　immortals。　A　like
harmony　exists　in　our　desires；　our　thoughts；　our　words。　More　than　once
on　some　evening　when　a　passing　shower　has　left　the　leaves　glistening
and　the　moist　grass　bright　with　a　more　vivid　green；　it　has　chanced
that　we　ended　our　walk　without　uttering　a　word；　as　we　listened　to　the
patter　of　falling　drops　and　feasted　our　eyes　on　the　scarlet　sunset；
flaring　on　the　hilltops　or　dyeing　with　a　warmer　tone　the　gray　of　the
tree　trunks。

Beyond　a　doubt　our　thoughts　then　rose　to　Heaven　in　silent　prayer；
pleading　as　it　were；　for　our　happiness。　At　times　a　cry　would　escape　us
at　the　moment　when　some　sudden　bend　on　the　path　opened　up　fresh
beauties。　What　words　can　tell　how　honey…sweet；　how　full　of　meaning；　is
a　kiss　half…timidly　exchanged　within　the　sanctuary　of　natureit　is　as
though　God　had　created　us　to　worship　in　this　fashion。

And　we　return　home；　each　more　deeply　in　love　than　ever。

A　love　so　passionate　between　old　married　people　would　be　an　outrage　on
society　in　Paris；　only　in　the　heart　of　the　woods；　like　lovers；　can　we
give　scope　to　it。

To　come　to　particulars；　Gaston　is　of　middle　heightthe　height　proper
to　all　men　of　purpose。　Neither　stout　nor　thin；　his　figure　is　admirably
made；　with　ample　fulness　in　the　proportions；　while　every　motion　is
agile；　he　leaps　a　ditch　with　the　easy　grace　of　a　wild　animal。　Whatever
his　attitude；　he　seems　to　have　an　instinctive　sense　of　balance；　and
this　is　very　rare　in　men　who　are　given　to　thought。　Though　a　dark　man；
he　has　an　extraordinarily　fair　complexion；　his　jet…black　hair
contrasts　finely　with　the　lustreless　tints　of　the　neck　and　forehead。
He　has　the　tragic　head　of　Louis　XIII。　His　moustache　and　tuft　have　been
allowed　to　grow；　but　I　made　him　shave　the　whiskers　and　beard；　which
were　getting　too　common。　An　honorable　poverty　has　been　his　safeguard；
and　handed　him　over　to　me；　unsoiled　by　the　loose　life　which　ruins　so
many　young　men。　His　teeth　are　magnificent；　and　he　has　a　constitution
of　iron。　His　keen　blue　eyes；　for　me　full　of　tenderness；　will　flash
like　lightning　at　any　rousing　thought。

Like　all　men　of　strong　character　and　powerful　mind；　he　has　an
admirable　temper；　its　evenness　would　surprise　you；　as　it　did　me。　I
have　listened　to　the　tale　of　many　a　woman's　home　troubles；　I　have
heard　of　the　moods　and　depression　of　men　dissatisfied　with　themselves；
who　either　won't　get　old　or　age　ungracefully；　men　who　carry　about
through　life　the　rankling　memory　of　some　youthful　excess；　whose　veins
run　poison　and　whose　eyes　are　never　frankly　happy；　men　who　cloak
suspicion　under　bad　temper；　and　make　their　women　pay　for　an　hour's
peace　by　a　morning　of　annoyance；　who　take　vengeance　on　us　for　a　beauty
which　is　hateful　to　them　because　they　have　ceased　themselves　to