camille-第2章

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〃Mademoiselle　Marguerite　Gautier。〃

I　knew　her　by　name　and　by　sight。

〃What！〃　I　said　to　the　attendant；　〃Marguerite　Gautier　is　dead？〃

〃Yes；　sir。〃

〃When　did　she　die？〃

〃Three　weeks　ago；　I　believe。〃

〃And　why　are　the　rooms　on　view？〃

〃The　creditors　believe　that　it　will　send　up　the　prices。　People　can　see　beforehand　the　effect　of　the　things；　you　see　that　induces　them　to　buy。〃

〃She　was　in　debt；　then？〃

〃To　any　extent；　sir。〃

〃But　the　sale　will　cover　it？〃

〃And　more　too。〃

〃Who　will　get　what　remains　over？〃

〃Her　family。〃

〃She　had　a　family？〃

〃It　seems　so。〃

〃Thanks。〃

The　attendant；　reassured　as　to　my　intentions；　touched　his　hat；　and　I　went　out。

〃Poor　girl！〃　I　said　to　myself　as　I　returned　home；　〃she　must　have　had　a　sad　death；　for；　in　her　world；　one　has　friends　only　when　one　is　perfectly　well。〃　And　in　spite　of　myself　I　began　to　feel　melancholy　over　the　fate　of　Marguerite　Gautier。

It　will　seem　absurd　to　many　people；　but　I　have　an　unbounded　sympathy　for　women　of　this　kind；　and　I　do　not　think　it　necessary　to　apologize　for　such　sympathy。

One　day；　as　I　was　going　to　the　Prefecture　for　a　passport；　I　saw　in　one　of　the　neighbouring　streets　a　poor　girl　who　was　being　marched　along　by　two　policemen。　I　do　not　know　what　was　the　matter。　All　I　know　is　that　she　was　weeping　bitterly　as　she　kissed　an　infant　only　a　few　months　old；　from　whom　her　arrest　was　to　separate　her。　Since　that　day　I　have　never　dared　to　despise　a　woman　at　first　sight。



Chapter　2

The　sale　was　to　take　place　on　the　16th。　A　day's　interval　had　been　left　between　the　visiting　days　and　the　sale；　in　order　to　give　time　for　taking　down　the　hangings；　curtains；　etc。　I　had　just　returned　from　abroad。　It　was　natural　that　I　had　not　heard　of　Marguerite's　death　among　the　pieces　of　news　which　one's　friends　always　tell　on　returning　after　an　absence。　Marguerite　was　a　pretty　woman；　but　though　the　life　of　such　women　makes　sensation　enough；　their　death　makes　very　little。　They　are　suns　which　set　as　they　rose；　unobserved。　Their　death；　when　they　die　young；　is　heard　of　by　all　their　lovers　at　the　same　moment；　for　in　Paris　almost　all　the　lovers　of　a　well…known　woman　are　friends。　A　few　recollections　are　exchanged；　and　everybody's　life　goes　on　as　if　the　incident　had　never　occurred；　without　so　much　as　a　tear。

Nowadays；　at　twenty…five；　tears　have　become　so　rare　a　thing　that　they　are　not　to　be　squandered　indiscriminately。　It　is　the　most　that　can　be　expected　if　the　parents　who　pay　for　being　wept　over　are　wept　over　in　return　for　the　price　they　pay。

As　for　me；　though　my　initials　did　not　occur　on　any　of　Marguerite's　belongings；　that　instinctive　indulgence；　that　natural　pity　that　I　have　already　confessed；　set　me　thinking　over　her　death；　more　perhaps　than　it　was　worth　thinking　over。　I　remembered　having　often　met　Marguerite　in　the　Bois；　where　she　went　regularly　every　day　in　a　little　blue　coupe　drawn　by　two　magnificent　bays；　and　I　had　noticed　in　her　a　distinction　quite　apart　from　other　women　of　her　kind；　a　distinction　which　was　enhanced　by　a　really　exceptional　beauty。

These　unfortunate　creatures　whenever　they　go　out　are　always　accompanied　by　somebody　or　other。　As　no　man　cares　to　make　himself　conspicuous　by　being　seen　in　their　company；　and　as　they　are　afraid　of　solitude；　they　take　with　them　either　those　who　are　not　well　enough　off　to　have　a　carriage；　or　one　or　another　of　those　elegant；　ancient　ladies；　whose　elegance　is　a　little　inexplicable；　and　to　whom　one　can　always　go　for　information　in　regard　to　the　women　whom　they　accompany。

In　Marguerite's　case　it　was　quite　different。　She　was　always　alone　when　she　drove　in　the　Champs…Elysees；　lying　back　in　her　carriage　as　much　as　possible；　dressed　in　furs　in　winter；　and　in　summer　wearing　very　simple　dresses；　and　though　she　often　passed　people　whom　she　knew；　her　smile；　when　she　chose　to　smile；　was　seen　only　by　them；　and　a　duchess　might　have　smiled　in　just　such　a　manner。　She　did　not　drive　to　and　fro　like　the　others；　from　the　Rond…Point　to　the　end　of　the　Champs…Elysees。　She　drove　straight　to　the　Bois。　There　she　left　her　carriage；　walked　for　an　hour；　returned　to　her　carriage；　and　drove　rapidly　home。

All　these　circumstances　which　I　had　so　often　witnessed　came　back　to　my　memory；　and　I　regretted　her　death　as　one　might　regret　the　destruction　of　a　beautiful　work　of　art。

It　was　impossible　to　see　more　charm　in　beauty　than　in　that　of　Marguerite。　Excessively　tall　and　thin；　she　had　in　the　fullest　degree　the　art　of　repairing　this　oversight　of　Nature　by　the　mere　arrangement　of　the　things　she　wore。　Her　cashmere　reached　to　the　ground；　and　showed　on　each　side　the　large　flounces　of　a　silk　dress；　and　the　heavy　muff　which　she　held　pressed　against　her　bosom　was　surrounded　by　such　cunningly　arranged　folds　that　the　eye；　however　exacting；　could　find　no　fault　with　the　contour　of　the　lines。　Her　head；　a　marvel；　was　the　object　of　the　most　coquettish　care。　It　was　small；　and　her　mother；　as　Musset　would　say；　seemed　to　have　made　it　so　in　order　to　make　it　with　care。

Set；　in　an　oval　of　indescribable　grace；　two　black　eyes；　surmounted　by　eyebrows　of　so　pure　a　curve　that　it　seemed　as　if　painted；　veil　these　eyes　with　lovely　lashes；　which；　when　drooped；　cast　their　shadow　on　the　rosy　hue　of　the　cheeks；　trace　a　delicate；　straight　nose；　the　nostrils　a　little　open；　in　an　ardent　aspiration　toward　the　life　of　the　senses；　design　a　regular　mouth；　with　lips　parted　graciously　over　teeth　as　white　as　milk；　colour　the　skin　with　the　down　of　a　peach　that　no　hand　has　touched；　and　you　will　have　the　general　aspect　of　that　charming　countenance。　The　hair；　black　as　jet；　waving　naturally　or　not；　was　parted　on　the　forehead　in　two　large　folds　and　draped　back　over　the　head；　leaving　in　sight　just　the　tip　of　the　ears；　in　which　there　glittered　two　diamonds；　worth　four　to　five　thousand　francs　each。　How　it　was　that　her　ardent　life　had　left　on　Marguerite's　face　the　virginal；　almost　childlike　expression；　which　characterized　it；　is　a　problem　which　we　can　but　state；　without　attempting　to　solve　it。

Marguerite　had　a　marvellous　portrait　of　herself；　by　Vidal；　the　only　man　whose　pencil　could　do　her　justice。　I　had　this　portrait　by　me　for　a　few　days　after　her　death；　and　the　likeness　was　so　astonishing　that　it　has　helped　to　refresh　my　memory　in　regard　to　some　points　which　I　might　not　otherwise　have　remembered。

Some　among　the　details　of　this　chapter　did　not　reach　me　until　later；　but　I　write　them　here　so　as　not　to　be　obliged　to　return　to　them　when　the　story　itself　has　begun。

Marguerite　was　always　present　at　every　first　night；　and　passed　every　evening　either　at　the　theatre　or　the　ball。　Whenever　there　was　a　new　piece　she　was　certain　to　be　seen；　and　she　invariably　had　three　things　with　her　on　the　ledge　of　her　ground…floor　box：　her　opera…glass；　a　bag　of　sweets；　and　a　bouquet　of　camellias。

For　twenty…five　days　of　the　month　the　camellias　were　white；　and　for　five　they　were　red；　no　one　ever　knew　the　reason　of　this　change　of　colour；　which　I　mention　though　I　can　not　explain　it；　it　was　noticed　both　by　her　friends　and　by　the　habitue's　of　the　theatres　to　which　she　most　often　went。　She　was　never　seen　with　any　flowers　but　camellias。　At　the　florist's；　Madame　Barjon's；　she　had　come　to　be　called　〃the　Lady　of　the　Camellias；〃　and　the　name　stuck　to　her。

Like　all　those　who　move　in　a　certain　set　in　Paris；　I　knew　that　Marguerite　had　lived　with　some　of　the　most　fashionable　young　men　in　society；　that　she　spoke　of　it　openly；　and　that　they　themselves　boasted　of　it；　so　that　all　seemed　equally　pleased　with　one　another。　Nevertheless；　for　about　three　years；　after　a　visit　to　Bagnees；　she　was　said　to　be　living　with　an　old　duke；　a　foreigner；　enormously　rich；　who　had　tried　to　remove　her　as　far　as　possible　from　her　former　life；　and；　as　it　seemed；　entirely　to　her　own　satisfaction。

This　is　what　I　was　told　on　the　subject。　In　the　spring　of　1847　Marguerite　was　so　ill　that　the　doctors　ordered　her　to　take　the　waters；　and　she　went　to　Bagneres。　Among　the　invalids　was　the　daughter　of　this　duke；　she　was　not　only　suffering　from　the　same　complaint；　but　she　was　so　like　Marguerite　in　appearance　that　they　might　have　been　taken　for　sisters；　the　young　duchess　was　in　the　last　stage　of　consumption；　and　a　few　days　after　Marguerite's　arrival