honorine-第12章

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〃　'No。　And　that　is　why　I　appeal　to　religion　to　decide　between　us。　The
Cure　of　the　White　Friars　is　a　saint；　seventy…five　years　of　age。　My
uncle　is　not　a　Grand　Inquisitor；　he　is　Saint　John；　but　for　you　he　will
be　Fenelonthe　Fenelon　who　said　to　the　Duc　de　Bourgogne：　'Eat　a　calf
on　a　Friday　by　all　means；　monseigneur。　But　be　a　Christian。'

〃　'Nay；　nay；　monsieur；　the　convent　is　my　last　hope　and　my　only　refuge。
There　is　none　but　God　who　can　understand　me。　No　man；　not　Saint
Augustine　himself；　the　tenderest　of　the　Fathers　of　the　Church；　could
enter　into　the　scruples　of　my　conscience；　which　are　to　me　as　the
circles　of　Dante's　hell；　whence　there　is　no　escape。　Another　than　my
husband；　a　different　man；　however　unworthy　of　the　offering；　has　had
all　my　love。　No；　he　has　not　had　it；　for　he　did　not　take　it；　I　gave　it
him　as　a　mother　gives　her　child　a　wonderful　toy；　which　it　breaks。　For
me　there　never　could　be　two　loves。　In　some　natures　love　can　never　be
on　trial；　it　is；　or　it　is　not。　When　it　comes；　when　it　rises　up；　it　is
complete。Well；　that　life　of　eighteen　months　was　to　me　a　life　of
eighteen　years；　I　threw　into　it　all　the　faculties　of　my　being；　which
were　not　impoverished　by　their　effusiveness；　they　were　exhausted　by
that　delusive　intimacy　in　which　I　alone　was　genuine。　For　me　the　cup　of
happiness　is　not　drained；　nor　empty；　and　nothing　can　refill　it；　for　it
is　broken。　I　am　out　of　the　fray；　I　have　no　weapons　left。　Having　thus
utterly　abandoned　myself；　what　am　I？the　leavings　of　a　feast。　I　had
but　one　name　bestowed　on　me；　Honorine；　as　I　had　but　one　heart。　My
husband　had　the　young　girl；　a　worthless　lover　had　the　womanthere　is
nothing　left！Then　let　myself　be　loved！　that　is　the　great　idea　you
mean　to　utter　to　me。　Oh！　but　I　still　am　something；　and　I　rebel　at　the
idea　of　being　a　prostitute！　Yes；　by　the　light　of　the　conflagration　I
saw　clearly；　and　I　tell　youwell；　I　could　imagine　surrendering　to
another　man's　love；　but　to　Octave's？No；　never。'

〃　'Ah！　you　love　him；'　I　said。

〃　'I　esteem　him；　respect　him；　venerate　him；　he　never　has　done　me　the
smallest　hurt；　he　is　kind；　he　is　tender；　but　I　can　never　more　love
him。　However；'　she　went　on；　'let　us　talk　no　more　of　this。　Discussion
makes　everything　small。　I　will　express　my　notions　on　this　subject　in
writing　to　you；　for　at　this　moment　they　are　suffocating　me；　I　am
feverish；　my　feet　are　standing　in　the　ashes　of　my　Paraclete。　All　that
I　see；　these　things　which　I　believed　I　had　earned　by　my　labor；　now
remind　me　of　everything　I　wish　to　forget。　Ah！　I　must　fly　from　hence　as
I　fled　from　my　home。'

〃　'Where　will　you　go？'　I　asked。　'Can　a　woman　exist　unprotected？　At
thirty；　in　all　the　glory　of　your　beauty；　rich　in　powers　of　which　you
have　no　suspicion；　full　of　tenderness　to　be　bestowed；　are　you　prepared
to　live　in　the　wilderness　where　I　could　hide　you？Be　quite　easy。　The
Count；　who　for　nine　years　has　never　allowed　himself　to　be　seen　here；
will　never　go　there　without　your　permission。　You　have　his　sublime
devotion　of　nine　years　as　a　guarantee　for　your　tranquillity。　You　may
therefore　discuss　the　future　in　perfect　confidence　with　my　uncle　and
me。　My　uncle　has　as　much　influence　as　a　Minister　of　State。　So　compose
yourself；　do　not　exaggerate　your　misfortune。　A　priest　whose　hair　has
grown　white　in　the　exercise　of　his　functions　is　not　a　boy；　you　will　be
understood　by　him　to　whom　every　passion　has　been　confided　for　nearly
fifty　years　now；　and　who　weighs　in　his　hands　the　ponderous　heart　of
kings　and　princes。　If　he　is　stern　under　his　stole；　in　the　presence　of
your　flowers　he　will　be　as　tender　as　they　are；　and　as　indulgent　as　his
Divine　Master。'

〃I　left　the　Countess　at　midnight；　she　was　apparently　calm；　but
depressed；　and　had　some　secret　purpose　which　no　perspicacity　could
guess。　I　found　the　Count　a　few　paces　off；　in　the　Rue　Saint…Maur。　Drawn
by　an　irresistible　attraction；　he　had　quitted　the　spot　on　the
Boulevards　where　we　had　agreed　to　meet。

〃　'What　a　night　my　poor　child　will　go　through！'　he　exclaimed；　when　I
had　finished　my　account　of　the　scene　that　had　just　taken　place。
'Supposing　I　were　to　go　to　her！'　he　added；　'supposing　she　were　to　see
me　suddenly？'

〃　'At　this　moment　she　is　capable　of　throwing　herself　out　of　the
window；'　I　replied。　'The　Countess　is　one　of　those　Lucretias　who　could
not　survive　any　violence；　even　if　it　were　done　by　a　man　into　whose
arms　she　could　throw　herself。'

〃　'You　are　young；'　he　answered；　'you　do　not　know　that　in　a　soul　tossed
by　such　dreadful　alternatives　the　will　is　like　waters　of　a　lake　lashed
by　a　tempest；　the　wind　changes　every　instant；　and　the　waves　are　driven
now　to　one　shore；　now　to　the　other。　During　this　night　the　chances　are
quite　as　great　that　on　seeing　me　Honorine　might　rush　into　my　arms　as
that　she　would　throw　herself　out　of　the　window。'

〃　'And　you　would　accept　the　equal　chances；'　said　I。

〃　'Well；　come；'　said　he；　'I　have　at　home；　to　enable　me　to　wait　till
to…morrow；　a　dose　of　opium　which　Desplein　prepared　for　me　to　send　me
to　sleep　without　any　risk！'

〃Next　day　at　noon　Gobain　brought　me　a　letter；　telling　me　that　the
Countess　had　gone　to　bed　at　six；　worn　out　with　fatigue；　and　that；
having　taken　a　soothing　draught　prepared　by　the　chemist；　she　had　now
fallen　asleep。

〃This　is　her　letter；　of　which　I　kept　a　copyfor　you；　mademoiselle；〃
said　the　Consul；　addressing　Camille；　〃know　all　the　resources　of　art；
the　tricks　of　style；　and　the　efforts　made　in　their　compositions　by
writers　who　do　not　lack　skill；　but　you　will　acknowledge　that
literature　could　never　find　such　language　in　its　assumed　pathos；　there
is　nothing　so　terrible　as　truth。　Here　is　the　letter　written　by　this
woman；　or　rather　by　this　anguish：

〃　'MONSIEUR　MAURICE；

〃　'I　know　all　your　uncle　would　say　to　me；　he　is　not　better　informed
than　my　own　conscience。　Conscience　is　the　interpreter　of　God　to　man。　I
know　that　if　I　am　not　reconciled　to　Octave；　I　shall　be　damned；　that　is
the　sentence　of　religious　law。　Civil　law　condemns　me　to　obey；　cost
what　it　may。　If　my　husband　does　not　reject　me；　the　world　will　regard
me　as　pure；　as　virtuous；　whatever　I　may　have　done。　Yes；　that　much　is
sublime　in　marriage；　society　ratifies　the　husband's　forgiveness；　but
it　forgets　that　the　forgiveness　must　be　accepted。　Legally；
religiously；　and　from　the　world's　point　of　view　I　ought　to　go　back　to
Octave。　Keeping　only　to　the　human　aspect　of　the　question；　is　it　not
cruel　to　refuse　him　happiness；　to　deprive　him　of　children；　to　wipe　his
name　out　of　the　Golden　Book　and　the　list　of　peers？　My　sufferings；　my
repugnance；　my　feelings；　all　my　egoismfor　I　know　that　I　am　an　egoist
ought　to　be　sacrificed　to　the　family。　I　shall　be　a　mother；　the
caresses　of　my　child　will　wipe　away　many　tears！　I　shall　be　very　happy；
I　certainly　shall　be　much　looked　up　to。　I　shall　ride；　haughty　and
wealthy；　in　a　handsome　carriage！　I　shall　have　servants　and　a　fine
house；　and　be　the　queen　of　as　many　parties　as　there　are　weeks　in　the
year。　The　world　will　receive　me　handsomely。　I　shall　not　have　to　climb
up　again　to　the　heaven　of　aristocracy；　I　shall　never　have　come　down
from　it。　So　God；　the　law；　society　are　all　in　accord。

〃　'　〃What　are　you　rebelling　against？〃　I　am　asked　from　the　height　of
heaven；　from　the　pulpit；　from　the　judge's　bench；　and　from　the　throne；
whose　august　intervention　may　at　need　be　invoked　by　the　Count。　Your
uncle；　indeed；　at　need；　would　speak　to　me　of　a　certain　celestial　grace
which　will　flood　my　heart　when　I　know　the　pleasure　of　doing　my　duty。

〃　'God；　the　law；　the　world；　and　Octave　all　wish　me　to　live；　no　doubt。
Well；　if　there　is　no　other　difficulty；　my　reply　cuts　the　knot：　I　will
not　live。　I　will　become　white　and　innocent　again；　for　I　will　lie　in　my
shroud；　white　with　the　blameless　pallor　of　death。　This　is　not　in　the
least　〃mulish　obstinacy。〃　That　mulish　obstinacy　of　which　you　jestingly
accused　me　is　in　a　woman　the　result　of　confidence；　of　a　vision　of　the
future。　Though　my　husband；　sublimely　generous；　may　forget　all；　I　shall
not　forget。　Does　forgetfulness　depend　on　our　will？　When　a　widow
re…marries；　love　makes　a　girl　of　her；　she　marries　a　man　she　loves。　But
I　cannot　love　the　Count。　It　all　lies　in　that；　do　not　you　see？

〃　'Every　time　my　eyes　met　his　I　should　see　my　sin　in　them；　even　when
his　were　full　of　love。　The　greatness　of　his　generosity　would　be　the
measure　of　the　greatness　of　my　crime。　My　eyes；　always　uneasy；　would　be
for　ever　reading　an　invisible　condemnation。　My　heart　would　be　full　of
confused　and　struggling　memories；　marriage　can　never　move　me　to　the
cruel　rapture；　the　mortal　delirium　of　passion。　I　should　kill　my
husband　by　my　coldness；　by　comparisons　which　he　would　guess；　though
hidden　in　the　depths　of　my　conscience。　Oh！　on　the　day　when　I　should
read　a　trace　of　involuntary；　even　of　suppressed　reproach　in　a　furrow
on　his　brow；　in　a　saddened　look；　in　some　imperceptible　gesture；
nothing　could　hold　me：　I　should　be　lying　with　a　fractured　skull　on　the
pavement；　and　find　that　less　hard　than　my　husband。　It　might　be　my　own
over…susceptibility　that　would　lead　me　to　this　horrible　but　welcome
death；　I　might　die　the　victim　of　an　impatient　mood　in　Octave　caused　by
some　matter　of　business；　or　be　deceived　by　some　unjust　suspicion。
Alas！　I　might　even　mistake　some　proof　of　love　for　a　sign　of　contempt！

〃　'What　torture　on　both　sides！　Octave　would　be　always　doubting　me；　I
doubting　him。　I；　quite　involuntarily；　should　give　him　a　rival　wholly
unworthy　of　him；　a　man　whom　I　despise；　but　with　whom　I　have　known
raptures　branded　on　me　with　fire；　which　are　my　shame；　but　which　I
cannot　forget。

〃　'Have　I　shown　you　enough　of　my　heart？　No　one；　monsieur；　can　convince
me　that　love　may　be　renewed；　for　I　neither　can　nor　will　accept　love
from　any　one。　A　young　bride　is　like　a　plucked　flower；　but　a　guilty
wife　is　like　a　flower　that　had　been　walked　over。　You；　who　are　a
florist；　you　know　whether　it　is　ever　possible　to　restore　the　broken
stem；　to　revive　the　faded　colors；　to　make　the　sap　flow　again　in　the
tender　vessels　of　which　the　whole　vegetative　function　lies　in　their
perfect　rigidity。　If　some　botanist　should　attempt　the　operation；　could
his　genius　smooth　out　the　folds　of　the　bruised　corolla？　If　he　could
remake　a　flower；　he　would　be　God！　God　alone　can　remake　me！　I　am
drinking　the　bitter　cup　of　expiation；　but　as　I　drink　it　I　painfully
spell　out　this　sentence：　Expiation　is　not　annihilation。

〃　'In　my　little　house；　alone；　I　eat　my　bread　soaked　in　tears；　but　no
one　sees　me　eat　nor　sees　me　weep。　If　I　go　back　to　Octave；　I　must　give
up　my　tearsthey　would　offend　him。　Oh！　monsieur；　how　many　virtues
must　a　woman　tread　under　foot；　not　to　give　herself；　but　to　restore
herself　to　a　betrayed　husband？　Who　could　count　them？　God　alone；　for　He
alone　can　know　and　encourage　the　horrible　refinements　at　which　the
angels　must　turn　pale。　Nay；　I　will　go　further。　A　woman　has　courage　in
the　presence　of　her　husband　if　he　knows　nothing；　she　shows　a　sort　of
fierce　strength　in　her　hypocrisy；　she　deceives　him　to　secure　him
double　happiness。　But　common　knowledge　is　surely　degrading。　Supposing
I　could　exchange　humiliation　for　ecstasy？　Would　not　Octave　at　last
feel　that　my　consent　was　sheer　depravity？　Marriage　is　based　on　esteem；
on　sacrifices　on　both　sides；　but　neither　Octave　nor　I