modeste mignon-第12章

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beautiful　illusions　of　its　youth。　But　of　this　radiant　existence　not　a

gleam　reached　the　surface　of　daily　life；　it　escaped　the　ken　of　Dumay

and　his　wife　and　the　Latournelles；　the　ears　of　the　blind　mother　alone

caught　the　crackling　of　its　flame。



The　profound　disdain　which　Modeste　now　conceived　for　ordinary　men　gave

to　her　face　a　look　of　pride；　an　inexpressible　untamed　shyness；　which

tempered　her　Teutonic　simplicity；　and　accorded　well　with　a　peculiarity

of　her　head。　The　hair　growing　in　a　point　above　the　forehead　seemed　the

continuation　of　a　slight　line　which　thought　had　already　furrowed

between　the　eyebrows；　and　made　the　expression　of　untameability　perhaps

a　shade　too　strong。　The　voice　of　this　charming　child；　whom　her　father；

delighting　in　her　wit；　was　wont　to　call　his　〃little　proverb　of

Solomon；〃　had　acquired　a　precious　flexibility　of　organ　through　the

practice　of　three　languages。　This　advantage　was　still　further　enhanced

by　a　natural　bell…like　tone　both　sweet　and　fresh；　which　touched　the

heart　as　delightfully　as　it　did　the　ear。　If　the　mother　could　no　longer

see　the　signs　of　a　noble　destiny　upon　her　daughter's　brow；　she　could

study　the　transitions　of　her　soul's　development　in　the　accents　of　that

voice　attuned　to　love。







CHAPTER　VI



A　MAIDEN'S　FIRST　ROMANCE



To　this　period　of　Modeste's　eager　rage　for　reading　succeeded　the

exercise　of　a　strange　faculty　given　to　vigorous　imaginations；the

power；　namely；　of　making　herself　an　actor　in　a　dream…existence；　of

representing　to　her　own　mind　the　things　desired；　with　so　vivid　a

conception　that　they　seemed　actually　to　attain　reality；　in　short；　to

enjoy　by　thought；to　live　out　her　years　within　her　mind；　to　marry；　to

grow　old；　to　attend　her　own　funeral　like　Charles　V。；　to　play　within

herself　the　comedy　of　life　and；　if　need　be；　that　of　death。　Modeste　was

indeed　playing；　but　all　alone；　the　comedy　of　Love。　She　fancied　herself

adored　to　the　summit　of　her　wishes　in　many　an　imagined　phase　of　social

life。　Sometimes　as　the　heroine　of　a　dark　romance；　she　loved　the

executioner；　or　the　wretch　who　ended　her　days　upon　the　scaffold；　or；

like　her　sister；　some　Parisian　youth　without　a　penny；　whose　struggles

were　all　beneath　a　garret…roof。　Sometimes　she　was　Ninon；　scorning　men

amid　continual　fetes；　or　some　applauded　actress；　or　gay　adventuress；

exhausting　in　her　own　behalf　the　luck　of　Gil　Blas；　or　the　triumphs　of

Pasta；　Malibran；　and　Florine。　Then；　weary　of　the　horrors　and

excitements；　she　returned　to　actual　life。　She　married　a　notary；　she

ate　the　plain　brown　bread　of　honest　everyday　life；　she　saw　herself　a

Madame　Latournelle；　she　accepted　a　painful　existence；　she　bore　all　the

trials　of　a　struggle　with　fortune。　After　that　she　went　back　to　the

romances：　she　was　loved　for　her　beauty；　a　son　of　a　peer　of　France；　an

eccentric；　artistic　young　man；　divined　her　heart；　recognized　the　star

which　the　genius　of　a　De　Stael　had　planted　on　her　brow。　Her　father

returned；　possessing　millions。　With　his　permission；　she　put　her

various　lovers　to　certain　tests　（always　carefully　guarding　her　own

independence）；　she　owned　a　magnificent　estate　and　castle；　servants；

horses；　carriages；　the　choicest　of　everything　that　luxury　could

bestow；　and　kept　her　suitors　uncertain　until　she　was　forty　years　old；

at　which　age　she　made　her　choice。



This　edition　of　the　Arabian　Nights　in　a　single　copy　lasted　nearly　a

year；　and　taught　Modeste　the　sense　of　satiety　through　thought。　She

held　her　life　too　often　in　her　hand；　she　said　to　herself

philosophically　and　with　too　real　a　bitterness；　too　seriously；　and　too

often；　〃Well；　what　is　it；　after　all？〃　not　to　have　plunged　to　her　waist

in　the　deep　disgust　which　all　men　of　genius　feel　when　they　try　to

complete　by　intense　toil　the　work　to　which　they　have　devoted

themselves。　Her　youth　and　her　rich　nature　alone　kept　Modeste　at　this

period　of　her　life　from　seeking　to　enter　a　cloister。　But　this　sense　of

satiety　cast　her；　saturated　as　she　still　was　with　Catholic

spirituality；　into　the　love　of　Good；　the　infinite　of　heaven。　She

conceived　of　charity；　service　to　others；　as　the　true　occupation　of

life；　but　she　cowered　in　the　gloomy　dreariness　of　finding　in　it　no

food　for　the　fancy　that　lay　crouching　in　her　heart　like　an　insect　at

the　bottom　of　a　calyx。　Meanwhile　she　sat　tranquilly　sewing　garments

for　the　children　of　the　poor；　and　listening　abstractedly　to　the

grumblings　of　Monsieur　Latournelle　when　Dumay　held　the　thirteenth　card

or　drew　out　his　last　trump。



Her　religious　faith　drove　Modeste　for　a　time　into　a　singular　track　of

thought。　She　imagined　that　if　she　became　sinless　（speaking

ecclesiastically）　she　would　attain　to　such　a　condition　of　sanctity

that　God　would　hear　her　and　accomplish　her　desires。　〃Faith；〃　she

thought；　〃can　move　mountains；　Christ　has　said　so。　The　Saviour　led　his

apostle　upon　the　waters　of　the　lake　Tiberias；　and　I；　all　I　ask　of　God

is　a　husband　to　love　me；　that　is　easier　than　walking　upon　the　sea。〃

She　fasted　through　the　next　Lent；　and　did　not　commit　a　single　sin；

then　she　said　to　herself　that　on　a　certain　day　coming　out　of　church

she　should　meet　a　handsome　young　man　who　was　worthy　of　her；　whom　her

mother　would　accept；　and　who　would　fall　madly　in　love　with　her。　When

the　day　came　on　which　she　had；　as　it　were；　summoned　God　to　send　her　an

angel；　she　was　persistently　followed　by　a　rather　disgusting　beggar；

moreover；　it　rained　heavily；　and　not　a　single　young　man　was　in　the

streets。　On　another　occasion　she　went　to　walk　on　the　jetty　to　see　the

English　travellers　land；　but　each　Englishman　had　an　Englishwoman；

nearly　as　handsome　as　Modeste　herself；　who　saw　no　one　at　all

resembling　a　wandering　Childe　Harold。　Tears　overcame　her；　as　she　sat

down　like　Marius　on　the　ruins　of　her　imagination。　But　on　the　day　when

she　subpoenaed　God　for　the　third　time　she　firmly　believed　that　the

Elect　of　her　dreams　was　within　the　church；　hiding；　perhaps　out　of

delicacy；　behind　one　of　the　pillars；　round　all　of　which　she　dragged

Madame　Latournelle　on　a　tour　of　inspection。　After　this　failure；　she

deposed　the　Deity　from　omnipotence。　Many　were　her　conversations　with

the　imaginary　lover；　for　whom　she　invented　questions　and　answers；

bestowing　upon　him　a　great　deal　of　wit　and　intelligence。



The　high　ambitions　of　her　heart　hidden　within　these　romances　were　the

real　explanation　of　the　prudent　conduct　which　the　good　people　who

watched　over　Modeste　so　much　admired；　they　might　have　brought　her　any

number　of　young　Althors　or　Vilquins；　and　she　would　never　have　stooped

to　such　clowns。　She　wanted；　purely　and　simply；　a　man　of　genius；

talent　she　cared　little　for；　just　as　a　lawyer　is　of　no　account　to　a

girl　who　aims　for　an　ambassador。　Her　only　desire　for　wealth　was　to

cast　it　at　the　feet　of　her　idol。　Indeed；　the　golden　background　of

these　visions　was　far　less　rich　than　the　treasury　of　her　own　heart；

filled　with　womanly　delicacy；　for　its　dominant　desire　was　to　make　some

Tasso；　some　Milton；　a　Jean…Jacques　Rousseau；　a　Murat；　a　Christopher

Columbus　happy。



Commonplace　miseries　did　not　seriously　touch　this　youthful　soul；　who

longed　to　extinguish　the　fires　of　the　martyrs　ignored　and　rejected　in

their　own　day。　Sometimes　she　imagined　balms　of　Gilead；　soothing

melodies　which　might　have　allayed　the　savage　misanthropy　of　Rousseau。

Or　she　fancied　herself　the　wife　of　Lord　Byron；　guessing　intuitively

his　contempt　for　the　real；　she　made　herself　as　fantastic　as　the　poetry

of　Manfred；　and　provided　for　his　scepticism　by　making　him　a　Catholic。

Modeste　attributed　Moliere's　melancholy　to　the　women　of　the

seventeenth　century。　〃Why　is　there　not　some　one　woman；〃　she　asked

herself；　〃loving；　beautiful；　and　rich；　ready　to　stand　beside　each　man

of　genius　and　be　his　slave；　like　Lara；　the　mysterious　page？〃　She　had；

as　the　reader　perceives；　fully　understood　〃il　pianto；〃　which　the

English　poet　chanted　by　the　mouth　of　his　Gulmare。　Modeste　greatly

admired　the　behavior　of　the　young　Englishwoman　who　offered　herself　t