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第17章

honorine-第17章

小说: honorine 字数: 每页4000字

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〃 ' 〃What are you rebelling against?〃 I am asked from the height of
heaven; from the pulpit; from the judge's bench; and from the throne;
whose august intervention may at need be invoked by the Count。 Your
uncle; indeed; at need; would speak to me of a certain celestial grace
which will flood my heart when I know the pleasure of doing my duty。

〃 'God; the law; the world; and Octave all wish me to live; no doubt。
Well; if there is no other difficulty; my reply cuts the knot: I will
not live。 I will become white and innocent again; for I will lie in my
shroud; white with the blameless pallor of death。 This is not in the
least 〃mulish obstinacy。〃 That mulish obstinacy of which you jestingly
accused me is in a woman the result of confidence; of a vision of the
future。 Though my husband; sublimely generous; may forget all; I shall
not forget。 Does forgetfulness depend on our will? When a widow
re…marries; love makes a girl of her; she marries a man she loves。 But
I cannot love the Count。 It all lies in that; do not you see?

〃 'Every time my eyes met his I should see my sin in them; even when
his were full of love。 The greatness of his generosity would be the
measure of the greatness of my crime。 My eyes; always uneasy; would be
for ever reading an invisible condemnation。 My heart would be full of
confused and struggling memories; marriage can never move me to the
cruel rapture; the mortal delirium of passion。 I should kill my
husband by my coldness; by comparisons which he would guess; though
hidden in the depths of my conscience。 Oh! on the day when I should
read a trace of involuntary; even of suppressed reproach in a furrow
on his brow; in a saddened look; in some imperceptible gesture;
nothing could hold me: I should be lying with a fractured skull on the
pavement; and find that less hard than my husband。 It might be my own
over…susceptibility that would lead me to this horrible but welcome
death; I might die the victim of an impatient mood in Octave caused by
some matter of business; or be deceived by some unjust suspicion。
Alas! I might even mistake some proof of love for a sign of contempt!

〃 'What torture on both sides! Octave would be always doubting me; I
doubting him。 I; quite involuntarily; should give him a rival wholly
unworthy of him; a man whom I despise; but with whom I have known
raptures branded on me with fire; which are my shame; but which I
cannot forget。

〃 'Have I shown you enough of my heart? No one; monsieur; can convince
me that love may be renewed; for I neither can nor will accept love
from any one。 A young bride is like a plucked flower; but a guilty
wife is like a flower that had been walked over。 You; who are a
florist; you know whether it is ever possible to restore the broken
stem; to revive the faded colors; to make the sap flow again in the
tender vessels of which the whole vegetative function lies in their
perfect rigidity。 If some botanist should attempt the operation; could
his genius smooth out the folds of the bruised corolla? If he could
remake a flower; he would be God! God alone can remake me! I am
drinking the bitter cup of expiation; but as I drink it I painfully
spell out this sentence: Expiation is not annihilation。

〃 'In my little house; alone; I eat my bread soaked in tears; but no
one sees me eat nor sees me weep。 If I go back to Octave; I must give
up my tearsthey would offend him。 Oh! monsieur; how many virtues
must a woman tread under foot; not to give herself; but to restore
herself to a betrayed husband? Who could count them? God alone; for He
alone can know and encourage the horrible refinements at which the
angels must turn pale。 Nay; I will go further。 A woman has courage in
the presence of her husband if he knows nothing; she shows a sort of
fierce strength in her hypocrisy; she deceives him to secure him
double happiness。 But common knowledge is surely degrading。 Supposing
I could exchange humiliation for ecstasy? Would not Octave at last
feel that my consent was sheer depravity? Marriage is based on esteem;
on sacrifices on both sides; but neither Octave nor I could esteem
each other the day after our reunion。 He would have disgraced me by a
love like that of an old man for a courtesan; and I should for ever
feel the shame of being a chattel instead of a lady。 I should
represent pleasure; and not virtue; in his house。 These are the bitter
fruits of such a sin。 I have made myself a bed where I can only toss
on burning coals; a sleepless pillow。

〃 'Here; when I suffer; I bless my sufferings; I say to God; 〃I thank
Thee!〃 But in my husband's house I should be full of terror; tasting
joys to which I have no right。

〃 'All this; monsieur; is not argument; it is the feeling of a soul
made vast and hollow by seven years of suffering。 Finally; must I make
a horrible confession? I shall always feel at my bosom the lips of a
child conceived in rapture and joy; and in the belief in happiness; of
a child I nursed for seven months; that I shall bear in my womb all
the days of my life。 If other children should draw their nourishment
from me; they would drink in tears mingling with the milk; and turning
it sour。 I seem a light thing; you regard me as a childAh yes! I
have a child's memory; the memory which returns to us on the verge of
the tomb。 So; you see; there is not a situation in that beautiful life
to which the world and my husband's love want to recall me; which is
not a false position; which does not cover a snare or reveal a
precipice down which I must fall; torn by pitiless rocks。 For five
years now I have been wandering in the sandy desert of the future
without finding a place convenient to repent in; because my soul is
possessed by true repentance。

〃 'Religion has its answers ready to all this; and I know them by
heart。 This suffering; these difficulties; are my punishment; she
says; and God will give me strength to endure them。 This; monsieur; is
an argument to certain pious souls gifted with an energy which I have
not。 I have made my choice between this hell; where God does not
forbid my blessing Him; and the hell that awaits me under Count
Octave's roof。

〃 'One word more。 If I were still a girl; with the experience I now
have; my husband is the man I should choose; but that is the very
reason of my refusal。 I could not bear to blush before that man。 What!
I should be always on my knees; he always standing upright; and if we
were to exchange positions; I should scorn him! I will not be better
treated by him in consequence of my sin。 The angel who might venture
under such circumstances on certain liberties which are permissible
when both are equally blameless; is not on earth; he dwells in heaven!
Octave is full of delicate feeling; I know; but even in his soul
(which; however generous; is a man's soul after all) there is no
guarantee for the new life I should lead with him。

〃 'Come then; and tell me where I may find the solitude; the peace;
the silence; so kindly to irreparable woes; which you promised me。'

〃After making this copy of the letter to preserve it complete; I went
to the Rue Payenne。 Anxiety had conquered the power of opium。 Octave
was walking up and down his garden like a madman。

〃 'Answer that!' said I; giving him his wife's letter。 'Try to
reassure the modesty of experience。 It is rather more difficult than
conquering the modesty of ignorance; which curiosity helps to betray。'

〃 'She is mine!' cried the Count; whose face expressed joy as he went
on reading the letter。

〃He signed to me with his hand to leave him to himself。 I understood
that extreme happiness and extreme pain obey the same laws; I went in
to receive Madame de Courteville and Amelie; who were to dine with the
Count that day。 However handsome Mademoiselle de Courteville might be;
I felt; on seeing her once more; that love has three aspects; and that
the women who can inspire us with perfect love are very rare。 As I
involuntarily compared Amelie with Honorine; I found the erring wife
more attractive than the pure girl。 To Honorine's heart fidelity had
not been a duty; but the inevitable; while Amelie would serenely
pronounce the most solemn promises wit

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