a woman of thirty-第34章
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ruggling； rolling； and tumbling without fear of hurt on the soft carpet； its flowers looked pale beside the glowing white and red of their cheeks and the brilliant color of their shining eyes。
On the sofa by the fire； opposite the great armchair； the children's mother sat among a heap of scattered garments； with a little scarlet shoe in her hand。 She seemed to have given herself up completely to the enjoyment of the moment； wavering discipline had relaxed into a sweet smile engraved upon her lips。 At the age of six…and…thirty； or thereabouts； she was a beautiful woman still； by reason of the rare perfection of the outlines of her face； and at this moment light and warmth and happiness filled it with preternatural brightness。
Again and again her eyes wandered from her children； and their tender gaze was turned upon her husband's grave face； and now and again the eyes of husband and wife met with a silent exchange of happiness and thoughts from some inner depth。
The General's face was deeply bronzed； a stray lock of gray hair scored shadows on his forehead。 The reckless courage of the battlefield could be read in the lines carved in his hollow cheeks； and gleams of rugged strength in the blue eyes； clearly the bit of red ribbon flaunting at his button…hole had been paid for by hardship and toil。 An inexpressible kindliness and frankness shone out of the strong； resolute face which reflected his children's merriment； the gray…haired captain found it not so very hard to become a child again。 Is there not always a little love of children in the heart of a soldier who has seen enough of the seamy side of life to know something of the piteous limitations of strength and the privileges of weakness？
At a round table rather further away； in a circle of bright lamplight that dimmed the feebler illumination of the wax candles on the chimney…piece； sat a boy of thirteen； rapidly turning the pages of a thick volume which he was reading； undisturbed by the shouts of the children。 There was a boy's curiosity in his face。 From his /lyceens/ uniform he was evidently a schoolboy； and the book he was reading was the /Arabian Nights/。 Small wonder that he was deeply absorbed。 He sat perfectly still in a meditative attitude； with his elbow on the table； and his hand propping his headthe white fingers contrasting strongly with the brown hair into which they were thrust。 As he sat； with the light turned full upon his face； and the rest of his body in shadow； he looked like one of Raphael's dark portraits of himselfa bent head and intent eyes filled with visions of the future。
Between the table and the Marquise a tall； beautiful girl sat at her tapestry frame； sometimes she drew back from her work； sometimes she bent over it； and her hair； picturesque in its ebony smoothness and darkness； caught the light of the lamp。 Helene was a picture in herself。 In her beauty there was a rare distinctive character of power and refinement。 Though her hair was gathered up and drawn back from her face； so as to trace a clearly marked line about her head； so thick and abundant was it； so recalcitrant to the comb； that it sprang back in curl…tendrils to the nape of her neck。 The bountiful line of eyebrows was evenly marked out in dark contrasting outline upon her pure forehead。 On her upper lip； beneath the Grecian nose with its sensitively perfect curve of nostril； there lay a faint； swarthy shadow； the sign…manual of courage； but the enchanting roundness of contour； the frankly innocent expression of her other features； the transparence of the delicate carnations； the voluptuous softness of the lips； the flawless oval of the outline of the face； and with these； and more than all these； the saintlike expression in the girlish eyes； gave to her vigorous loveliness the distinctive touch of feminine grace； that enchanting modesty which we look for in these angels of peace and love。 Yet there was no suggestion of fragility about her； and； surely； with so grand a woman's frame； so attractive a face； she must possess a corresponding warmth of heart and strength of soul。
She was as silent as her schoolboy brother。 Seemingly a prey to the fateful maiden meditations which baffle a father's penetration and even a mother's sagacity； it was impossible to be certain whether it was the lamplight that cast those shadows that flitted over her face like thin clouds over a bright sky； or whether they were passing shades of secret and painful thoughts。
Husband and wife had quite forgotten the two older children at that moment； though now and again the General's questioning glance traveled to that second mute picture； a larger growth； a gracious realization； as it were； of the hopes embodied in the baby forms rioting in the foreground。 Their faces made up a kind of living poem； illustrating life's various phases。 The luxurious background of the salon； the different attitudes； the strong contrasts of coloring in the faces； differing with the character of differing ages； the modeling of the forms brought into high relief by the lightaltogether it was a page of human life； richly illuminated beyond the art of painter； sculptor； or poet。 Silence； solitude； night and winter lent a final touch of majesty to complete the simplicity and sublimity of this exquisite effect of nature's contriving。 Married life is full of these sacred hours； which perhaps owe their indefinable charm to some vague memory of a better world。 A divine radiance surely shines upon them； the destined compensation for some portion of earth's sorrows； the solace which enables man to accept life。 We seem to behold a vision of an enchanted universe； the great conception of its system widens out before our eyes； and social life pleads for its laws by bidding us look to the future。
Yet in spite of the tender glances that Helene gave Abel and Moina after a fresh outburst of merriment； in spite of the look of gladness in her transparent face whenever she stole a glance at her father； a deep melancholy pervaded her gestures； her attitude； and more than all； her eyes veiled by their long lashes。 Those white； strong hands； through which the light passed； tinting them with a diaphanous； almost fluid redthose hands were trembling。 Once only did the eyes of the mother and daughter clash without shrinking； and the two women read each other's thoughts in a look； cold； wan； and respectful on Helene's part； sombre and threatening on her mother's。 At once Helene's eyes were lowered to her work； she plied her needle swiftly； and it was long before she raised her head； bowed as it seemed by a weight of thought too heavy to bear。 Was the Marquise over harsh with this one of her children？ Did she think this harshness needful？ Was she jealous of Helene's beauty？She might still hope to rival Helene； but only by the magic arts of the toilette。 Or again； had her daughter； like many a girl who reaches the clairvoyant age； read the secrets which this wife （to all appearance so religiously faithful in the fulfilment of her duties） believed to be buried in her own heart as deeply as in a grave？
Helene had reached an age when purity of soul inclines to pass over… rigid judgments。 A certain order of mind is apt to exaggerate transgression into crime； imagination reacts upon conscience； and a young girl is a hard judge because she magnifies the seriousness of the offence。 Helene seemed to think herself worthy of no one。 Perhaps there was a secret in her past life； perhaps something had happened； unintelligible to her at the time； but with gradually developing significance for a mind grown susceptible to religious influences； something which lately seemed to have degraded her； as it were； in her own eyes； and according to her own romantic standard。 This change in her demeanor dated from the day of reading Schiller's noble tragedy of /Wilhelm Tell/ in a new series of translations。 Her mother scolded her for letting the book fall； and then remarked to herself that the passage which had so worked on Helene's feelings was the scene in which Wilhelm Tell； who spilt the blood of a tyrant to save a nation； fraternizes in some sort with John the Parricide。 Helene had grown humble； dutiful； and self…contained； she no longer cared for gaiety。 Neve
