honorine-第21章

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one　day　lose　his　poor　father。　Keep　my　secrets　as　the　grave　will　keep
them。　Do　not　mourn　for　me；　I　have　been　dead　this　many　a　day；　if　Saint
Bernard　was　right　in　saying　that　where　there　is　no　more　love　there　is
no　more　life。'　〃

〃And　the　Countess　died；〃　said　the　Consul；　putting　away　the　letters　and
locking　the　pocket…book。

〃Is　the　Count　still　living？〃　asked　the　Ambassador；　〃for　since　the
revolution　of　July　he　has　disappeared　from　the　political　stage。〃

〃Do　you　remember；　Monsieur　de　Lora；〃　said　the　Consul…General；　〃having
seen　me　going　to　the　steamboat　with〃

〃A　white…haired　man！　an　old　man？〃　said　the　painter。

〃An　old　man　of　forty…five；　going　in　search　of　health　and　amusement　in
Southern　Italy。　That　old　man　was　my　poor　friend；　my　patron；　passing
through　Genoa　to　take　leave　of　me　and　place　his　will　in　my　hands。　He
appoints　me　his　son's　guardian。　I　had　no　occasion　to　tell　him　of
Honorine's　wishes。〃

〃Does　he　suspect　himself　of　murder？〃　said　Mademoiselle　des　Touches　to
the　Baron　de　l'Hostal。

〃He　suspects　the　truth；〃　replied　the　Consul；　〃and　that　is　what　is
killing　him。　I　remained　on　board　the　steam　packet　that　was　to　take　him
to　Naples　till　it　was　out　of　the　roadstead；　a　small　boat　brought　me
back。　We　sat　for　some　little　time　taking　leave　of　each　otherfor
ever；　I　fear。　God　only　knows　how　much　we　love　the　confidant　of　our
love　when　she　who　inspired　it　is　no　more。

〃　'That　man；'　said　Octave；　'holds　a　charm　and　wears　an　aureole。'　the
Count　went　to　the　prow　and　looked　down　on　the　Mediterranean。　It
happened　to　be　fine；　and；　moved　no　doubt　by　the　spectacle；　he　spoke
these　last　words：　'Ought　we　not；　in　the　interests　of　human　nature；　to
inquire　what　is　the　irresistible　power　which　leads　us　to　sacrifice　an
exquisite　creature　to　the　most　fugitive　of　all　pleasures；　and　in　spite
of　our　reason？　In　my　conscience　I　heard　cries。　Honorine　was　not　alone
in　her　anguish。　And　yet　I　would　have　it！　。　。　。　I　am　consumed　by
remorse。　In　the　Rue　Payenne　I　was　dying　of　the　joys　I　had　not；　now　I
shall　die　in　Italy　of　the　joys　I　have　had。　。　。　。　Wherein　lay　the
discord　between　two　natures；　equally　noble；　I　dare　assert？'　〃

For　some　minutes　profound　silence　reigned　on　the　terrace。

Then　the　Consul；　turning　to　the　two　women；　asked；　〃Was　she　virtuous？〃

Mademoiselle　des　Touches　rose；　took　the　Consul's　arm；　went　a　few　steps
away；　and　said　to　him：

〃Are　not　men　wrong　too　when　they　come　to　us　and　make　a　young　girl　a
wife　while　cherishing　at　the　bottom　of　their　heart　some　angelic　image；
and　comparing　us　to　those　unknown　rivals；　to　perfections　often
borrowed　from　a　remembrance；　and　always　finding　us　wanting？〃

〃Mademoiselle；　you　would　be　right　if　marriage　were　based　on　passion；
and　that　was　the　mistake　of　those　two；　who　will　soon　be　no　more。
Marriage　with　heart…deep　love　on　both　sides　would　be　Paradise。〃

Mademoiselle　des　Touches　turned　from　the　Consul；　and　was　immediately
joined　by　Claude　Vignon；　who　said　in　her　ear：

〃A　bit　of　a　coxcomb　is　M。　de　l'Hostal。〃

〃No；〃　replied　she；　whispering　to　Claude　these　words：　〃for　he　has　not
yet　guessed　that　Honorine　would　have　loved　him。Oh！〃　she　exclaimed；
seeing　the　Consul's　wife　approaching；　〃his　wife　was　listening！　Unhappy
man！〃

Eleven　was　striking　by　all　the　clocks；　and　the　guests　went　home　on
foot　along　the　seashore。

〃Still；　that　is　not　life；〃　said　Mademoiselle　des　Touches。　〃That　woman
was　one　of　the　rarest；　and　perhaps　the　most　extraordinary　exceptions
in　intellecta　pearl！　Life　is　made　up　of　various　incidents；　of　pain
and　pleasure　alternately。　The　Paradise　of　Dante；　that　sublime
expression　of　the　ideal；　that　perpetual　blue；　is　to　be　found　only　in
the　soul；　to　ask　it　of　the　facts　of　life　is　a　luxury　against　which
nature　protests　every　hour。　To　such　souls　as　those　the　six　feet　of　a
cell；　and　the　kneeling　chair　are　all　they　need。〃

〃You　are　right；〃　said　Leon　de　Lora；　〃but　good…for…nothing　as　I　may　be；
I　cannot　help　admiring　a　woman　who　is　capable；　as　that　one　was；　of
living　by　the　side　of　a　studio；　under　a　painter's　roof；　and　never
coming　down；　nor　seeing　the　world；　nor　dipping　her　feet　in　the　street
mud。〃

〃Such　a　thing　has　been　knownfor　a　few　months；〃　said　Claude　Vignon；
with　deep　irony。

〃Comtesse　Honorine　is　not　unique　of　her　kind；〃　replied　the　Ambassador
to　Mademoiselle　des　Touches。　〃A　man；　nay；　and　a　politician；　a　bitter
writer；　was　the　object　of　such　a　passion；　and　the　pistol　shot　which
killed　him　hit　not　him　alone；　the　woman　who　loved　lived　like　a　nun
ever　after。〃

〃Then　there　are　yet　some　great　souls　in　this　age！〃　said　Camille
Maupin；　and　she　stood　for　some　minutes　pensively　leaning　on　the
balustrade　of　the　quay。









End