modeste mignon-第11章

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Mignon　and　her　daughter　to　the　Chalet；　Francisque　Althor　came　to　dine

with　the　Vilquins。　Happening　to　see　Modeste　over　the　wall　at　the　foot

of　the　lawn；　he　turned　away　his　head。　Six　weeks　later　he　married　the

eldest　Mademoiselle　Vilquin。　In　this　way　Modeste；　young；　beautiful；

and　of　high　birth；　learned　the　lesson　that　for　three　whole　months　of

her　engagement　she　had　been　nothing　more　than　Mademoiselle　Million。

Her　poverty；　well　known　to　all；　became　a　sentinel　defending　the

approaches　to　the　Chalet　fully　as　well　as　the　prudence　of　the

Latournelles　or　the　vigilance　of　Dumay。　The　talk　of　the　town　ran　for　a

time　on　Mademoiselle　Mignon's　position　only　to　insult　her。



〃Poor　girl！　what　will　become　of　her？an　old　maid；　of　course。〃



〃What　a　fate！　to　have　had　the　world　at　her　feet；　to　have　had　the

chance　to　marry　Francisque　Althor；and　now；　nobody　willing　to　take

her！〃



〃After　a　life　of　luxury；　to　come　down　to　such　poverty〃



And　these　insults　were　not　uttered　in　secret　or　left　to　Modeste's

imagination；　she　heard　them　spoken　more　than　once　by　the　young　men　and

the　young　women　of　Havre　as　they　walked　to　Ingouville；　and；　knowing

that　Madame　Mignon　and　her　daughter　lived　at　the　Chalet；　talked　of

them　as　they　passed　the　house。　Friends　of　the　Vilquins　expressed

surprise　that　the　mother　and　daughter　were　willing　to　live　on　among

the　scenes　of　their　former　splendor。　From　her　open　window　behind　the

closed　blinds　Modeste　sometimes　heard　such　insolence　as　this：



〃I　am　sure　I　can't　think　how　they　can　live　there；〃　some　one　would　say

as　he　paced　the　villa　lawn；perhaps　to　assist　Vilquin　in　getting　rid

of　his　tenant。



〃What　do　you　suppose　they　live　on？　they　haven't　any　means　of　earning

money。〃



〃I　am　told　the　old　woman　has　gone　blind。〃



〃Is　Mademoiselle　Mignon　still　pretty？　Dear　me；　how　dashing　she　used　to

be！　Well；　she　hasn't　any　horses　now。〃



Most　young　girls　on　hearing　these　spiteful　and　silly　speeches；　born　of

an　envy　that　now　rushed；　peevish　and　drivelling；　to　avenge　the　past；

would　have　felt　the　blood　mount　to　their　foreheads；　others　would　have

wept；　some　would　have　undergone　spasms　of　anger；　but　Modeste　smiled；

as　we　smile　at　the　theatre　while　watching　the　actors。　Her　pride　could

not　descend　so　low　as　the　level　of　such　speeches。



The　other　event　was　more　serious　than　these　mercenary　meannesses。

Bettina　Caroline　died　in　the　arms　of　her　younger　sister；　who　had

nursed　her　with　the　devotion　of　girlhood；　and　the　curiosity　of　an

untainted　imagination。　In　the　silence　of　long　nights　the　sisters

exchanged　many　a　confidence。　With　what　dramatic　interest　was　poor

Bettina　invested　in　the　eyes　of　the　innocent　Modeste？　Bettina　knew

love　through　sorrow　only；　and　she　was　dying　of　it。　Among　young　girls

every　man；　scoundrel　though　he　be；　is　still　a　lover。　Passion　is　the

one　thing　absolutely　real　in　the　things　of　life；　and　it　insists　on　its

supremacy。　Charles　d'Estourny；　gambler；　criminal；　and　debauchee；

remained　in　the　memory　of　the　sisters；　the　elegant　Parisian　of　the

fetes　of　Havre；　the　admired　of　the　womenkind。　Bettina　believed　she　had

carried　him　off　from　the　coquettish　Madame　Vilquin；　and　to　Modeste　he

was　her　sister's　happy　lover。　Such　adoration　in　young　girls　is

stronger　than　all　social　condemnations。　To　Bettina's　thinking；　justice

had　been　deceived；　if　not；　how　could　it　have　sentenced　a　man　who　had

loved　her　for　six　months？loved　her　to　distraction　in　the　hidden

retreat　to　which　he　had　taken　her；that　he　might；　we　may　add；　be　at

liberty　to　go　his　own　way。　Thus　the　dying　girl　inoculated　her　sister

with　love。　Together　they　talked　of　the　great　drama　which　imagination

enhances；　and　Bettina　carried　with　her　to　the　grave　her　sister's

ignorance；　leaving　her；　if　not　informed；　at　least　thirsting　for

information。



Nevertheless；　remorse　had　set　its　fangs　too　sharply　in　Bettina's　heart

not　to　force　her　to　warn　her　sister。　In　the　midst　of　her　own

confessions　she　had　preached　duty　and　implicit　obedience　to　Modeste。

On　the　evening　of　her　death　she　implored　her　to　remember　the　tears

that　soaked　her　pillow；　and　not　to　imitate　a　conduct　which　even

suffering　could　not　expiate。　Bettina　accused　herself　of　bringing　a

curse　upon　the　family；　and　died　in　despair　at　being　unable　to　obtain

her　father's　pardon。　Notwithstanding　the　consolations　which　the

ministers　of　religion；　touched　by　her　repentance；　freely　gave　her；　she

cried　in　heartrending　tones　with　her　latest　breath：　〃Oh　father！

father！〃　〃Never　give　your　heart　without　your　hand；〃　she　said　to

Modeste　an　hour　before　she　died；　〃and　above　all；　accept　no　attentions

from　any　man　without　telling　everything　to　papa　and　mamma。〃



These　words；　so　earnest　in　their　practical　meaning；　uttered　in　the

hour　of　death；　had　more　effect　upon　Modeste　than　if　Bettina　had

exacted　a　solemn　oath。　The　dying　girl；　farseeing　as　prophet；　drew　from

beneath　her　pillow　a　ring　which　she　had　sent　by　her　faithful　maid；

Francoise　Cochet；　to　be　engraved　in　Havre　with　these　words；　〃Think　of

Bettina；　1827；〃　and　placed　it　on　her　sister's　finger；　begging　her　to

keep　it　there　until　she　married。　Thus　there　had　been　between　these　two

young　girls　a　strange　commingling　of　bitter　remorse　and　the　artless

visions　of　a　fleeting　spring…time　too　early　blighted　by　the　keen　north

wind　of　desertion；　yet　all　their　tears；　regrets　and　memories　were

always　subordinate　to　their　horror　of　evil。



Nevertheless；　this　drama　of　a　poor　seduced　sister　returning　to　die

under　a　roof　of　elegant　poverty；　the　failure　of　her　father；　the

baseness　of　her　betrothed；　the　blindness　of　her　mother　caused　by

grief；　had　touched　the　surface　only　of　Modeste's　life；　by　which　alone

the　Dumays　and　the　Latournelles　judged　her；　for　no　devotion　of　friends

can　take　the　place　of　a　mother's　eye。　The　monotonous　life　in　the

dainty　little　Chalet；　surrounded　by　the　choice　flowers　which　Dumay

cultivated；　the　family　customs；　as　regular　as　clock…work；　the

provincial　decorum；　the　games　at　whist　while　the　mother　knitted　and

the　daughter　sewed；　the　silence；　broken　only　by　the　roar　of　the　sea　in

the　equinoctial　storms；all　this　monastic　tranquillity　did　in　fact

hide　an　inner　and　tumultuous　life；　the　life　of　ideas；　the　life　of　the

spiritual　being。　We　sometimes　wonder　how　it　is　possible　for　young

girls　to　do　wrong；　but　such　as　do　so　have　no　blind　mother　to　send　her

plummet　line　of　intuition　to　the　depths　of　the　subterranean　fancies　of

a　virgin　heart。　The　Dumays　slept　when　Modeste　opened　her　window；　as　it

were　to　watch　for　the　passing　of　a　man；the　man　of　her　dreams；　the

expected　knight　who　was　to　mount　her　behind　him　and　ride　away　under

the　fire　of　Dumay's　pistols。



During　the　depression　caused　by　her　sister's　death　Modeste　flung

herself　into　the　practice　of　reading；　until　her　mind　became　sodden　in

it。　Born　to　the　use　of　two　languages；　she　could　speak　and　read　German

quite　as　well　as　French；　she　had　also；　together　with　her　sister；

learned　English　from　Madame　Dumay。　Being　very　little　overlooked　in　the

matter　of　reading　by　the　people　about　her；　who　had　no　literary

knowledge；　Modeste　fed　her　soul　on　the　modern　masterpieces　of　three

literatures；　English；　French；　and　German。　Lord　Byron；　Goethe；

Schiller；　Walter　Scott；　Hugo；　Lamartine；　Crabbe；　Moore；　the　great

works　of　the　17th　and　18th　centuries；　history；　drama；　and　fiction；

from　Astraea　to　Manon　Lescaut；　from　Montaigne's　Essays　to　Diderot；

from　the　Fabliaux　to　the　Nouvelle　Heloise；in　short；　the　thought　of

three　lands　crowded　with　confused　images　that　girlish　head；　august　in

its　cold　guilelessness；　its　native　chastity；　but　from　which　there

sprang　full…armed；　brilliant；　sincere；　and　strong；　an　overwhelming

admiration　for　genius。　To　Modeste　a　new　book　was　an　event；　a

masterpiece　that　would　have　horrified　Madame　Latournelle　made　her

happy；equally　unhappy　if　the　great　work　did　not　play　havoc　with　her

heart。　A　lyric　instinct　bubbled　in　that　girlish　soul；　so　full　of　the

beautiful　illusions　of　its　youth。　B