the duchesse de langeais-第8章

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　own　tastes　and　amusements；　and　left　his　wife　at　liberty　to　do　as　she　pleased　so　soon　as　he　felt　sure　of　her　character。　　He　recognised　in　her　a　spirit　pre…eminently　proud；　a　cold　heart；　a　profound　submissiveness　to　the　usages　of　the　world；　and　a　youthful　loyalty。　　Under　the　eyes　of　great　relations；　with　the　light　of　a　prudish　and　bigoted　Court　turned　full　upon　the　Duchess；　his　honour　was　safe。

So　the　Duke　calmly　did　as　the　grands　seigneurs　of　the　eighteenth　century　did　before　him；　and　left　a　young　wife　of　two…and…twenty　to　her　own　devices。　　He　had　deeply　offended　that　wife；　and　in　her　nature　there　was　one　appalling　characteristicshe　would　never　forgive　an　offence　when　woman's　vanity　and　self…love；　with　all　that　was　best　in　her　nature　perhaps；　had　been　slighted；　wounded　in　secret。　　Insult　and　injury　in　the　face　of　the　world　a　woman　loves　to　forget；　there　is　a　way　open　to　her　of　showing　herself　great；　she　is　a　woman　in　her　forgiveness；　but　a　secret　offence　women　never　pardon；　for　secret　baseness；　as　for　hidden　virtues　and　hidden　love；　they　have　no　kindness

This　was　Mme　la　Duchesse　de　Langeais's　real　position；　unknown　to　the　world。　　She　herself　did　not　reflect　upon　it。　　It　was　the　time　of　the　rejoicings　over　the　Duc　de　Berri's　marriage。　　The　Court　and　the　Faubourg　roused　itself　from　its　listlessness　and　reserve。

This　was　the　real　beginning　of　that　unheard…of　splendour　which　the　Government　of　the　Restoration　carried　too　far。　　At　that　time　the　Duchess；　whether　for　reasons　of　her　own；　or　from　vanity；　never　appeared　in　public　without　a　following　of　women　equally　distinguished　by　name　and　fortune。　　As　queen　of　fashion　she　had　her　dames　d'atours；　her　ladies；　who　modelled　their　manner　and　their　wit　on　hers。　　They　had　been　cleverly　chosen。　　None　of　her　satellites　belonged　to　the　inmost　Court　circle；　nor　to　the　highest　level　of　the　Faubourg　Saint…Germain；　but　they　had　set　their　minds　upon　admission　to　those　inner　sanctuaries。　　Being　as　yet　simple　dominations；　they　wished　to　rise　to　the　neighbourhood　of　the　throne；　and　mingle　with　the　seraphic　powers　in　the　high　sphere　known　as　le　petit　chateau。　　Thus　surrounded；　the　Duchess's　position　was　stronger　and　more　commanding　and　secure。　　Her　〃ladies〃　defended　her　character　and　helped　her　to　play　her　detestable　part　of　a　woman　of　fashion。　　She　could　laugh　at　men　at　her　ease；　play　with　fire；　receive　the　homage　on　which　the　feminine　nature　is　nourished；　and　remain　mistress　of　herself。　　

At　Paris；　in　the　highest　society　of　all；　a　woman　is　a　woman　still；　she　lives　on　incense；　adulation；　and　honours。　　No　beauty；　however　undoubted；　no　face；　however　fair；　is　anything　without　admiration。　　Flattery　and　a　lover　are　proofs　of　power。　　And　what　is　power　without　recognition？　　Nothing。　　If　the　prettiest　of　women　were　left　alone　in　a　corner　of　a　drawing…room；　she　would　droop。　　Put　her　in　the　very　centre　and　summit　of　social　grandeur；　she　will　at　once　aspire　to　reign　over　all　heartsoften　because　it　is　out　of　her　power　to　be　the　happy　queen　of　one。　　Dress　and　manner　and　coquetry　are　all　meant　to　please　one　of　the　poorest　creatures　extantthe　brainless　coxcomb；　whose　handsome　face　is　his　sole　merit；　it　was　for　such　as　these　that　women　threw　themselves　away。　　The　gilded　wooden　idols　of　the　Restoration；　for　they　were　neither　more　nor　less；　had　neither　the　antecedents　of　the　petits　maitres　of　the　time　of　the　Fronde；　nor　the　rough　sterling　worth　of　Napoleon's　heroes；　not　the　wit　and　fine　manners　of　their　grandsires；　but　something　of　all　three　they　meant　to　be　without　any　trouble　to　themselves。　　Brave　they　were；　like　all　young　Frenchmen；　ability　they　possessed；　no　doubt；　if　they　had　had　a　chance　of　proving　it；　but　their　places　were　filled　up　by　the　old　worn…out　men；　who　kept　them　in　leading　strings。　　It　was　a　day　of　small　things；　a　cold　prosaic　era。　　Perhaps　it　takes　a　long　time　for　a　Restoration　to　become　a　Monarchy。

For　the　past　eighteen　months　the　Duchesse　de　Langeais　had　been　leading　this　empty　life；　filled　with　balls　and　subsequent　visits；　objectless　triumphs；　and　the　transient　loves　that　spring　up　and　die　in　an　evening's　space。　　All　eyes　were　turned　on　her　when　she　entered　a　room；　she　reaped　her　harvest　of　flatteries　and　some　few　words　of　warmer　admiration；　which　she　encouraged　by　a　gesture　or　a　glance；　but　never　suffered　to　penetrate　deeper　than　the　skin。　　Her　tone　and　bearing　and　everything　else　about　her　imposed　her　will　upon　others。　　Her　life　was　a　sort　of　fever　of　vanity　and　perpetual　enjoyment；　which　turned　her　head。　　She　was　daring　enough　in　conversation；　she　would　listen　to　anything；　corrupting　the　surface；　as　it　were；　of　her　heart。　　Yet　when　she　returned　home；　she　often　blushed　at　the　story　that　had　made　her　laugh；　at　the　scandalous　tale　that　supplied　the　details；　on　the　strength　of　which　she　analysed　the　love　that　she　had　never　known；　and　marked　the　subtle　distinctions　of　modern　passion；　not　with　comment　on　the　part　of　complacent　hypocrites。　　For　women　know　how　to　say　everything　among　themselves；　and　more　of　them　are　ruined　by　each　other　than　corrupted　by　men。

There　came　a　moment　when　she　discerned　that　not　until　a　woman　is　loved　will　the　world　fully　recognise　her　beauty　and　her　wit。　　What　does　a　husband　prove？　　Simply　that　a　girl　or　woman　was　endowed　with　wealth；　or　well　brought　up；　that　her　mother　managed　cleverly　that　in　some　way　she　satisfied　a　man's　ambitions。　　A　lover　constantly　bears　witness　to　her　personal　perfections。　　Then　followed　the　discovery　still　in　Mme　de　Langeais's　early　womanhood；　that　it　was　possible　to　be　loved　without　committing　herself；　without　permission；　without　vouchsafing　any　satisfaction　beyond　the　most　meagre　dues。　　There　was　more　than　one　demure　feminine　hypocrite　to　instruct　her　in　the　art　of　playing　such　dangerous　comedies。

So　the　Duchess　had　her　court；　and　the　number　of　her　adorers　and　courtiers　guaranteed　her　virtue。　　She　was　amiable　and　fascinating；　she　flirted　till　the　ball　or　the　evening's　gaiety　was　at　an　end。　　Then　the　curtain　dropped。　　She　was　cold；　indifferent；　self…contained　again　till　the　next　day　brought　its　renewed　sensations；　superficial　as　before。　　Two　or　three　men　were　completely　deceived；　and　fell　in　love　in　earnest。　　She　laughed　at　them；　she　was　utterly　insensible。　　〃I　am　loved！〃　she　told　herself。　　〃He　loves　me！〃　　The　certainty　sufficed　her。　　It　is　enough　for　the　miser　to　know　that　his　every　whim　might　be　fulfilled　if　he　chose；　so　it　was　with　the　Duchess；　and　perhaps　she　did　not　even　go　so　far　as　to　form　a　wish。

One　evening　she　chanced　to　be　at　the　house　of　an　intimate　friend　Mme　la　Vicomtesse　de　Fontaine；　one　of　the　humble　rivals　who　cordially　detested　her；　and　went　with　her　everywhere。　　In　a　〃friendship〃　of　this　sort　both　sides　are　on　their　guard；　and　never　lay　their　armour　aside；　confidences　are　ingeniously　indiscreet；　and　not　unfrequently　treacherous。　　Mme　de　Langeais　had　distributed　her　little　patronising；　friendly；　or　freezing　bows；　with　the　air　natural　to　a　woman　who　knows　the　worth　of　her　smiles；　when　her　eyes　fell　upon　a　total　stranger。　　Something　in　the　man's　large　gravity　of　aspect　startled　her；　and；　with　a　feeling　almost　like　dread；　she　turned　to　Mme　de　Maufrigneuse　with；　〃Who　is　the　newcomer；　dear？〃

〃Someone　that　you　have　heard　of；　no　doubt。　　The　Marquis　de　Montriveau。〃

〃Oh！　is　it　he？〃

She　took　up　her　eyeglass　and　submitted　him　to　a　very　insolent　scrutiny；　as　if　he　had　been　a　picture　meant　to　receive　glances；　not　to　return　them。

〃Do　introduce　him；　he　ought　to　be　interesting。〃

〃Nobody　more　tiresome　and　dull；　dear。　　But　he　is　the　fashion。〃

M。　Armand　de　Montriveau；　at　that　moment　all　unwittingly　the　object　of　general　curiosity；　better　deserved　attention　than　any　of　the　idols　that　Paris　needs　must　set　up　to　worship　for　a　brief　space；　for　the　city　is　vexed　by　periodical　fits　of　craving；　a　passion　for　engouement　and　sham　enthusiasm；　which　must　be　satisfied。　　The　Marquis　was　the　only　son　of　General　de　Montriveau；　one　of　the　ci…devants　who　served　the　Republic　nobly；　and　fell　by　Joubert's　side　at　Novi。　　Bonaparte　had　placed　his　son　at　the　school　at　Chalons；　with　the　orphans　of　other　generals　who　fell　on　the　battlefield；　leaving　their　children　under　the　protection　of　the　Republic。　　Armand　de　Montriveau　left　school　with　his　way　to　make；　entered　the　artillery；　and　had　only　reached　a　major's　rank　at　the　time　of　the　Fontainebleau　disaster。　　In　his　section　of　the　service　the　chances　of　advancement　were　not　many。　　There　are　fewer　officers；　in　the　first　place；　among　the　gunners　than　in　any　other　corps；　and　in　the　second　place；　the　feeling　in　the　artillery　was　decidedly　Liberal；　not　to　say　Republican；　and　the　Emperor；　feeling　little　confidence　in　a　body　of　highly　educated　men　who　were　apt　to　think　for　themselves；　gave　promotion　grudgingly　in　the　service。　　In　the　artillery；　accordingly；　the　general　rule　of　the　army　did　not　apply；　the　commanding　officers　were　not　invariably　the　most　remarkable　men　in　their　department；　because　there　was　less　to　be　feared　from　mediocrities。　　The　artillery　was　a　separate　corps　in　those　days；　and　only　came　under　Napoleon　in　action。

Besides　these　general　causes；　other　reasons；　inherent　in　Armand　de　Montriveau's　character；　were　sufficient　in　themselves　to　account　for　his　tardy　promotion。　　He　was　alone　in　the　world。　　He　had　been　thrown　at　the　age　of　twenty　into　the　whirlwind　of　men　directed　by　Napoleon；　his　interests　were　bounded　by　himself；　any　day　he　might　lose　his　life；　it　became　a　habit　of　mind　with　him　to　live　by　his　own　self…respect　and　the　consciousness　that　he　had　done　his　duty。　　Like　all　shy　men；　he　was　habitually　silent；　but　his　shyness　sprang　by　no　means　from　timidity；　it　was　a　kind　of　modesty　in　him；　he　found　any　demonstration　of　vanity　intolerable。

There　was　no　sort　of　swagger　about　his　fearlessness　in　action；　nothing　escaped　his　eyes；　he　could　give　sensible　advice　to　his　chums　with　unshaken　coolness；　he　could　go　under　fire；　and　duck　upon　occasion　to　avoid　bullets。　　He　was　kindly；　but　his　expression　was　haughty　and　stern；　and　his　face　gained　him　this　character。　　In　everything　he　was　rigorous　as　arithmetic；　he　never　permitted　the　slightest　deviation　from　duty　on　any　plausible　pretext；　nor　blinked　the　consequences　of　a　fact。　　He　would　lend　himself　to　nothing　of　which　he　was　ashamed；　he　never　asked　anything　for　himself；　in　short；　Armand　de　Montriveau　was　one　of　many　great　men　unknown　to　fame；　and　philosophical　enough　to　despise　it；　living　without　attaching　themselves　to　life；　because　they　have　not　found　their　opportunity　of　developing　to　the　full　their　power　to　do　and　feel。

People　were　afraid　of　Montriveau；　they　respected　him；　but　he　was　not　very　popular。　　Men　may　indeed　allow　you　to　rise　above　them；　but　to　decline　to　descend　as　low　as　they　can　do　is　the　one　unpardonable　sin。　　In　their　feeling　towards　loftier　natures；　there　is　a　trace　of　hate　and　fear。　　Too　much　honour　with　them　implies　censure　of　themselves；　a　thing　forgiven　neither　to　the　living　nor　to　the　dead。

After　the　Emperor's　farewells　at　Fontainebleau；　Montriveau；　noble　though　he　was；　was　put　on　half…pay。　　Perhaps　the　heads　of　the　War　Office　took　fright　at　uncompromising　uprightness　worthy　of　antiquity；　or　perhaps　it　was　known　that　he　felt　bound　by　his　oath　to　the　Imperial　Eagle。　　During　the　Hundred　Days　he　was　made　a　Colonel　of　the　Gua