george sand-第3章

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urprise　face　to　face　with　those　sights　of　Nature　which　have　remained　the　same　and　have　been　just　as　incomprehensible　ever　since　the　beginning　of　the　world。

The　antagonism　of　the　two　mothers　increased；　though。　　We　will　not　go　into　detail　with　regard　to　the　various　episodes；　but　will　only　consider　the　consequences。

The　first　consequence　was　that　the　intelligence　of　the　child　became　more　keen　through　this　duality。　　Placed　as　she　was；　in　these　two　different　worlds；　between　two　persons　with　minds　so　unlike；　and；　obliged　as　she　was　to　go　from　one　to　the　other；　she　learnt　to　understand　and　appreciate　them　both；　contrasts　though　they　were。　　She　had　soon　reckoned　each　of　them　up；　and　she　saw　their　weaknesses；　their　faults；　their　merits　and　their　advantages。

A　second　consequence　was　to　increase　her　sensitiveness。　　Each　time　that　she　left　her　mother；　the　separation　was　heartrending。　　When　she　was　absent　from　her；　she　suffered　on　account　of　this　absence；　and　still　more　because　she　fancied　that　she　would　be　forgotten。　　She　loved　her　mother；　just　as　she　was；　and　the　idea　that　any　one　was　hostile　or　despised　her　caused　the　child　much　silent　suffering。　　It　was　as　though　she　had　an　ever…open　wound。

Another　consequence；　and　by　no　means　the　least　important　one；　was　to　determine　in　a　certain　sense　the　immense　power　of　sympathy　within　her。　　For　a　long　time　she　only　felt　a　sort　of　awe；　when　with　her　reserved　and　ceremonious　grandmother。　　She　felt　nearer　to　her　mother；　as　there　was　no　need　to　be　on　ceremony　with　her。　　She　took　a　dislike　to　all　those　who　represented　authority；　rules　and　the　tyranny　of　custom。　　She　considered　her　mother　and　herself　as　oppressed　individuals。　　A　love　for　the　people　sprang　up　in　the　heart　of　the　daughter　of　Sophie…Victoire。　She　belonged　to　them　through　her　mother；　and　she　was　drawn　to　them　now　through　the　humiliations　she　underwent。　　In　this　little　enemy　of　reverences　and　of　society　people；　we　see　the　dawn　of　that　instinct　which；　later　on；　was　to　cause　her　to　revolt　openly。　　George　Sand　was　quite　right　in　saying；　later　on；　that　it　was　of　no　use　seeking　any　intellectual　reason　as　the　explanation　of　her　social　preferences。　　Everything　in　her　was　due　to　sentiment。　　Her　socialism　was　entirely　the　outcome　of　her　suffering　and　torments　as　a　child。

Things　had　to　come　to　a　crisis；　and　the　crisis　was　atrocious。　　George　Sand　gives　an　account　of　the　tragic　scene　in　her　_Histoire　de　ma　vie_。　　Her　grandmother　had　already　had　one　attack　of　paralysis。　　She　was　anxious　about　Aurore's　future；　and　wished　to　keep　her　from　the　influence　of　her　mother。　　She　therefore　decided　to　employ　violent　means　to　this　end。　　She　sent　for　the　child　to　her　bedside；　and；　almost　beside　herself；　in　a　choking　voice；　she　revealed　to　her　all　that　she　ought　to　have　concealed。　　She　told　her　of　Sophie…Victoire's　past；　she　uttered　the　fatal　word　and　spoke　of　the　child's　mother　as　a　lost　woman。　　With　Aurore's　extreme　sensitiveness；　it　was　horrible　to　receive　such　confidences　at　the　age　of　thirteen。　　Thirty　years　later；　George　Sand　describes　the　anguish　of　the　terrible　minute。　　〃It　was　a　nightmare；〃　she　says。　　〃I　felt　choked；　and　it　was　as　though　every　word　would　kill　me。　　The　perspiration　came　out　on　my　face。　　I　wanted　to　interrupt　her；　to　get　up　and　rush　away。　　I　did　not　want　to　hear　the　frightful　accusation。　　I　could　not　move；　though；　I　seemed　to　be　nailed　on　my　knees；　and　my　head　seemed　to　be　bowed　down　by　that　voice　that　I　heard　above　me；　a　voice　which　seemed　to　wither　me　like　a　storm　wind。〃

It　seems　extraordinary　that　a　woman；　who　was　in　reality　so　kind…hearted　and　so　wise；　should　have　allowed　herself　to　be　carried　away　like　this。　　Passion　has　these　sudden　and　unexpected　outbursts；　and　we　see　here　a　most　significant　proof　of　the　atmosphere　of　passion　in　which　the　child　had　lived；　and　which　gradually　insinuated　itself　within　her。


Under　these　circumstances；　Aurore's　departure　for　the　convent　was　a　deliverance。　　Until　just　recently；　there　has　always　been　a　convent　in　vogue　in　France　in　which　it　has　been　considered　necessary　for　girls　in　good　society　to　be　educated。　　In　1817；　_the　Couvent　des　Anglaises_　was　in　vogue；　the　very　convent　which　had　served　as　a　prison　for　the　mother　and　grandmother　of　Aurore。　　The　three　years　she　spent　there　in　that　〃big　feminine　family；　where　every　one　was　as　kind　as　God；〃　she　considered　the　most　peaceful　and　happy　time　of　her　life。　　The　pages　she　devotes　to　them　in　her　_Histoire　de　ma　vie_　have　all　the　freshness　of　an　oasis。　　She　describes　most　lovingly　this　little　world；　apart；　exclusive　and　self…sufficing；　in　which　life　was　so　intense。

The　house　consisted　of　a　number　of　constructions；　and　was　situated　in　the　neighbourhood　given　up　to　convents。　　There　were　courtyards　and　gardens　enough　to　make　it　seem　like　a　small　village。　　There　was　also　a　labyrinth　of　passages　above　and　underground；　just　as　in　one　of　Anne　Radcliffe's　novels。　　There　were　old　walls　overgrown　with　vine　and　jasmine。　　The　cock　could　be　heard　at　midnight；　just　as　in　the　heart　of　the　country；　and　there　was　a　bell　with　a　silvery　tone　like　a　woman's　voice。　　From　her　little　cell；　Aurore　looked　over　the　tops　of　the　great　chestnut　trees　on　to　Paris；　so　that　the　air　so　necessary　for　the　lungs　of　a　child　accustomed　to　wanderings　in　the　country　was　not　lacking　in　her　convent　home。　　The　pupils　had　divided　themselves　into　three　categories：　　the　_diables_；　the　good　girls；　who　were　the　specially　pious　ones；　and　the　silly　ones。　　Aurore　took　her　place　at　once　among　the　_diables_。　　The　great　exploit　of　these　convent　girls　consisted　in　descending　into　the　cellars；　during　recreation；　and　in　sounding　the　walls；　in　order　to　〃deliver　the　victim。〃　　There　was　supposed　to　be　an　unfortunate　victim　imprisoned　and　tortured　by　the　good；　kindhearted　Sisters。　　Alas！　all　the　_diables_　sworn　to　the　task　in　the　_Couvent　des　Anglaises_　never　succeeded　in　finding　the　victim；　so　that　she　must　be　there　still。

Very　soon；　though；　a　sudden　change…took　place　in　Aurore's　soul。　　It　would　have　been　strange　had　it　been　otherwise。　　With　so　extraordinarily　sensitive　an　organization；　the　new　and　totally　different　surroundings　could　not　fail　to　make　an　impression。　　The　cloister；　the　cemetery；　the　long　services；　the　words　of　the　ritual；　murmured　in　the　dimly…lighted　chapel；　and　the　piety　that　seems　to　hover　in　the　air　in　houses　where　many　prayers　have　been　offered　up　all　this　acted　on　the　young　girl。　　One　evening　in　August；　she　had　gone　into　the　church；　which　was　dimly　lighted　by　the　sanctuary　lamp。　　Through　the　open　window　came　the　perfume　of　honeysuckle　and　the　songs　of　the　birds。　　There　was　a　charm；　a　mystery　and　a　solemn　calm　about　everything；　such　as　she　had　never　before　experienced。　　〃I　do　not　know　what　was　taking　place　within　me；〃　she　said；　when　describing　this；　later　on；　〃but　I　breathed　an　atmosphere　that　was　indescribably　delicious；　and　I　seemed　to　be　breathing　it　in　my　very　soul。　　Suddenly；　I　felt　a　shock　through　all　my　being；　a　dizziness　came　over　me；　and　I　seemed　to　be　enveloped　in　a　white　light。　　I　thought　I　heard　a　voice　murmuring　in　my　ear：　　_‘Tolle　Lege。'_　I　turned　round；　and　saw　that　I　was　quite　alone。　。　。　。〃

Our　modern　_psychiatres_　would　say　that　she　had　had　an　hallucination　of　hearing；　together　with　olfactory　trouble。　　I　prefer　saying　that　she　had　received　the　visit　of　grace。　　Tears　of　joy　bathed　her　face　and　she　remained　there；　sobbing　for　a　long　time。

The　convent　had　therefore　opened　to　Aurore　another　world　of　sentiment；　that　of　Christian　emotion。　　Her　soul　was　naturally　religious；　and　the　dryness　of　a　philosophical　education　had　not　been　sufficient　for　it。　　The　convent　had　now　brought　her　the　aliment　for　which　she　had　instinctively　longed。　　Later　on；　when　her　faith；　which　had　never　been　very　enlightened；　left　her；　the　sentiment　remained。　　This　religiosity；　of　Christian　form；　was　essential　to　George　Sand。

The　convent　also　rendered　her　another　eminent　service。　　In　the　_Histoire　de　ma　vie_；　George　Sand　retraces　from　memory　the　portraits　of　several　of　the　Sisters。　　She　tells　us　of　Madame　Marie…Xavier；　and　of　her　despair　at　having　taken　the　vows；　of　Sister　Anne…Joseph；　who　was　as　kind　as　an　angel　and　as　silly　as　a　goose；　of　the　gentle　Marie…Alicia；　whose　serene　soul　looked　o