the magic skin-第20章

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roused　her　curiosity　by　drawing　her　attention　to　an　everyday　matter

to　sleep；　a　thing　so　apparently　commonplace；　that　in　reality　is　an

insoluble　problem　for　science。　The　countess　sat　in　silence　for　a

moment　when　I　told　her　that　our　ideas　were　complete　organic　beings；

existing　in　an　invisible　world；　and　influencing　our　destinies；　and　for

witnesses　I　cited　the　opinions　of　Descartes；　Diderot；　and　Napoleon；

who　had　directed；　and　still　directed；　all　the　currents　of　the　age。



〃So　I　had　the　honor　of　amusing　this　woman；　who　asked　me　to　come　to　see

her　when　she　left　me；　giving　me　les　grande　entrees；　in　the　language　of

the　court。　Whether　it　was　by　dint　of　substituting　polite　formulas　for

genuine　expressions　of　feeling；　a　commendable　habit　of　mine；　or

because　Foedora　hailed　in　me　a　coming　celebrity；　an　addition　to　her

learned　menagerie；　for　some　reason　I　thought　that　I　had　pleased　her。　I

called　all　my　previous　physiological　studies　and　knowledge　of　woman　to

my　aid；　and　minutely　scrutinized　this　singular　person　and　her　ways　all

evening。　I　concealed　myself　in　the　embrasure　of　a　window；　and　sought

to　discover　her　thoughts　from　her　bearing。　I　studied　the　tactics　of

the　mistress　of　the　house；　as　she　came　and　went；　sat　and　chatted；

beckoned　to　this　one　or　that；　asked　questions；　listened　to　the

answers；　as　she　leaned　against　the　frame　of　the　door；　I　detected　a

languid　charm　in　her　movements；　a　grace　in　the　flutterings　of　her

dress；　remarked　the　nature　of　the　feelings　she　so　powerfully　excited；

and　became　very　incredulous　as　to　her　virtue。　If　Foedora　would　none　of

love　to…day；　she　had　had　strong　passions　at　some　time；　past　experience

of　pleasure　showed　itself　in　the　attitudes　she　chose　in　conversation；

in　her　coquettish　way　of　leaning　against　the　panel　behind　her；　she

seemed　scarcely　able　to　stand　alone；　and　yet　ready　for　flight　from　too

bold　a　glance。　There　was　a　kind　of　eloquence　about　her　lightly　folded

arms；　which；　even　for　benevolent　eyes；　breathed　sentiment。　Her　fresh

red　lips　sharply　contrasted　with　her　brilliantly　pale　complexion。　Her

brown　hair　brought　out　all　the　golden　color　in　her　eyes；　in　which　blue

streaks　mingled　as　in　Florentine　marble；　their　expression　seemed　to

increase　the　significance　of　her　words。　A　studied　grace　lay　in　the

charms　of　her　bodice。　Perhaps　a　rival　might　have　found　the　lines　of

the　thick　eyebrows；　which　almost　met；　a　little　hard；　or　found　a　fault

in　the　almost　invisible　down　that　covered　her　features。　I　saw　the

signs　of　passion　everywhere；　written　on　those　Italian　eyelids；　on　the

splendid　shoulders　worthy　of　the　Venus　of　Milo；　on　her　features；　in

the　darker　shade　of　down　above　a　somewhat　thick　under…lip。　She　was　not

merely　a　woman；　but　a　romance。　The　whole　blended　harmony　of　lines；　the

feminine　luxuriance　of　her　frame；　and　its　passionate　promise；　were

subdued　by　a　constant　inexplicable　reserve　and　modesty　at　variance

with　everything　else　about　her。　It　needed　an　observation　as　keen　as　my

own　to　detect　such　signs　as　these　in　her　character。　To　explain　myself

more　clearly；　there　were　two　women　in　Foedora；　divided　perhaps　by　the

line　between　head　and　body：　the　one；　the　head　alone；　seemed　to　be

susceptible；　and　the　other　phlegmatic。　She　prepared　her　glance　before

she　looked　at　you；　something　unspeakably　mysterious；　some　inward

convulsion　seemed　revealed　by　her　glittering　eyes。



〃So；　to　be　brief；　either　my　imperfect　moral　science　had　left　me　a　good

deal　to　learn　in　the　moral　world；　or　a　lofty　soul　dwelt　in　the

countess；　lent　to　her　face　those　charms　that　fascinated　and　subdued

us；　and　gave　her　an　ascendency　only　the　more　complete　because　it

comprehended　a　sympathy　of　desire。



〃I　went　away　completely　enraptured　with　this　woman；　dazzled　by　the

luxury　around　her；　gratified　in　every　faculty　of　my　soulnoble　and

base；　good　and　evil。　When　I　felt　myself　so　excited；　eager；　and　elated；

I　thought　I　understood　the　attraction　that　drew　thither　those　artists；

diplomatists；　men　in　office；　those　stock…jobbers　encased　in　triple

brass。　They　came；　no　doubt；　to　find　in　her　society　the　delirious

emotion　that　now　thrilled　through　every　fibre　in　me；　throbbing　through

my　brain；　setting　the　blood　a…tingle　in　every　vein；　fretting　even　the

tiniest　nerve。　And　she　had　given　herself　to　none；　so　as　to　keep　them

all。　A　woman　is　a　coquette　so　long　as　she　knows　not　love。



〃　'Well；'　I　said　to　Rastignac；　'they　married　her；　or　sold　her　perhaps；

to　some　old　man；　and　recollections　of　her　first　marriage　have　caused

her　aversion　for　love。'



〃I　walked　home　from　the　Faubourg　St。　Honore；　where　Foedora　lived。

Almost　all　the　breadth　of　Paris　lies　between　her　mansion　and　the　Rue

des　Cordiers；　but　the　distance　seemed　short；　in　spite　of　the　cold。　And

I　was　to　lay　siege　to　Foedora's　heart；　in　winter；　and　a　bitter　winter；

with　only　thirty　francs　in　my　possession；　and　such　a　distance　as　that

lay　between　us！　Only　a　poor　man　knows　what　such　a　passion　costs　in

cab…hire；　gloves；　linen；　tailor's　bills；　and　the　like。　If　the　Platonic

stage　lasts　a　little　too　long；　the　affair　grows　ruinous。　As　a　matter

of　fact；　there　is　many　a　Lauzun　among　students　of　law；　who　finds　it

impossible　to　approach　a　ladylove　living　on　a　first　floor。　And　I；

sickly；　thin；　poorly　dressed；　wan　and　pale　as　any　artist　convalescent

after　a　work；　how　could　I　compete　with　other　young　men；　curled；

handsome；　smart；　outcravatting　Croatia；　wealthy　men；　equipped　with

tilburys；　and　armed　with　assurance？



〃　'Bah；　death　or　Foedora！'　I　cried；　as　I　went　round　by　a　bridge；　'my

fortune　lies　in　Foedora。'



〃That　gothic　boudoir　and　Louis　Quatorze　salon　came　before　my　eyes。　I

saw　the　countess　again　in　her　white　dress　with　its　large　graceful

sleeves；　and　all　the　fascinations　of　her　form　and　movements。　These

pictures　of　Foedora　and　her　luxurious　surroundings　haunted　me　even　in

my　bare；　cold　garret；　when　at　last　I　reached　it；　as　disheveled　as　any

naturalist's　wig。　The　contrast　suggested　evil　counsel；　in　such　a　way

crimes　are　conceived。　I　cursed　my　honest；　self…respecting　poverty；　my

garret　where　such　teeming　fancies　had　stirred　within　me。　I　trembled

with　fury；　I　reproached　God；　the　devil；　social　conditions；　my　own

father；　the　whole　universe；　indeed；　with　my　fate　and　my　misfortunes。　I

went　hungry　to　bed；　muttering　ludicrous　imprecations；　but　fully

determined　to　win　Foedora。　Her　heart　was　my　last　ticket　in　the

lottery；　my　fortune　depended　upon　it。



〃I　spare　you　the　history　of　my　earlier　visits；　to　reach　the　drama　the

sooner。　In　my　efforts　to　appeal　to　her；　I　essayed　to　engage　her

intellect　and　her　vanity　on　my　side；　in　order　to　secure　her　love；　I

gave　her　any　quantity　of　reasons　for　increasing　her　self…esteem；　I

never　left　her　in　a　state　of　indifference；　women　like　emotions　at　any

cost；　I　gave　them　to　her　in　plenty；　I　would　rather　have　had　her　angry

with　me　than　indifferent。



〃At　first；　urged　by　a　strong　will　and　a　desire　for　her　love；　I　assumed

a　little　authority；　but　my　own　feelings　grew　stronger　and　mastered　me；

I　relapsed　into　truth；　I　lost　my　head；　and　fell　desperately　in　love。



〃I　am　not　very　sure　what　we　mean　by　the　word　love　in　our　poetry　and

our　talk；　but　I　know　that　I　have　never　found　in　all　the　ready

rhetorical　phrases　of　Jean…Jacques　Rousseau；　in　whose　room　perhaps　I

was　lodging；　nor　among　the　feeble　inventions　of　two　centuries　of　our

literature；　nor　in　any　picture　that　Italy　has　produced；　a

representation　of　the　feelings　that　expanded　all　at　once　in　my　double

nature。　The　view　of　the　lake　of　Bienne；　some　music　of　Rossini's；　the

Madonna　of　Murillo's　now　in　the　possession　of　General　Soult；

Lescombat's　letters；　a　few　sayings　scattered　through　collections　of

anecdotes；　but　most　of　all　the　prayers　of　religious　ecstatics；　and

passages　in　our　fabliaux；these　things　alone　have　power　to　carry　me

back　to　the　divine　heights　of　my　first　love。



〃Nothing　expressed　in　human　language；　no　thought　reproducible　in

color；　marble；　sound；　or　articulate　speech；　could　ever　render　the

force；　the　truth；　the　completeness；　the　suddenness　with　which　love

awoke　in　me。　To　speak　of　art；　is　to　speak　of　illusion。　Love　passes

through　endless　transformations　before　it　passes　for　ever　into　our

existence　and　makes　it　glow　with　its　own　color　of　flame。　The　process

is　imperceptible；　and　baffles　the　artist's　analysis。　Its　moans　and

complaints　are　tedious　to　an　uninterested　spectator。　One　would　need　to

be　very　much　in　love　to　share　the　furious　transports　of　Lovelace；　as

one　reads　Clarissa　Harlowe。　Love　is　like　some　fresh　spring；　that

leaves　its　cresses；　its　gravel　bed　and　flowers　to　become　first　a

stream　and　then　a　river；　changing　its　aspect　and　its　nature　as　it

flows　to　plunge　itself　in　some　boundless　ocean；　where　restricted

natures　only　find　monotony；　but　where　great　souls　are　engulfed　in

endless　contemplation。



〃How　can　I　dare　to　describe　the　hues　of　fleeting　emotions；　the

nothings　beyond　all　price；　the　spoken　accents　that　beggar　language；

the　looks　that　hold　more　than　all　the　wealth　of　poetry？　Not　one　of　the

mysterious　scenes　that　draw　us　insensibly　nearer　and　nearer　to　a

woman；　but　has　depths　in　it　which　can　swallow　up　all　the　poetry　that

ever　was　written。　How　can　the　inner　life　and　mystery　that　stirs　in　our

souls　penetrate　through　our　glozes；　when　we　have　not　even　words　to

describe　the　visible　and　outward　mysteries　of　beauty？　What　enchantment

steeped　me　for　how　many　hours　in　unspeakable　rapture；　filled　with　the

sight　of　Her！　What　made　me　happy？　I　know　not。　That　face　of　hers

overflowed　with　light　at　such　times；　it　seemed　in　some　way　to　glow

with　it；　the　outlines　of　her　face；　with　the　scarcely　perceptible　down

on　its　delicate　surface；　shone　with　a　beauty　belonging　to　the　far

distant　horizon　that　melts　into　the　sunlight。　The　light　of　day　seemed

to　caress　her　as　she　mingled　in　it；　rather　it　seemed　that　the　light　of

her　eyes　was　brighter　than　the　daylight　itself；　or　some　shadow　passing

over　that　fair　face　made　a　kind　of　change　there；　altering　its　hues　and

its　expression。　Some　thought　would　often　seem　to　glow　on　her　white

brows；　her　eyes　appeared　to　dilate；　and　her　eyelids　trembled；　a　smile

rippled　over　her　features；　the　living　coral　of　her　lips　grew　full　of

meaning　as　they　closed　and　unclosed；　an　indistinguishable　something　in

her　hair　made　brown　shadows　on　her　fair　temples；　in　each　new　phase

Foedora　spoke。　Every　slight　variation　in　her　beauty　made　a　new

pleasure　for　my　eyes；　disclosed　charms　my　heart　had　never　known

before；　I　tried　to　read　a　separate　emotion　or　a　hope　in　every　change

that　passed　over　her　face。　This　mute　converse　passed　between　soul　and

soul；　like　sound　and　answering　echo；　and　the　short…lived　delights　then

showered　upon　me　have　left　indelible　impressions　behind。　Her　voice

would　cause　a　frenzy　in　me　that　I　could　hardly　understand。　I　could

have　copied　the　example　of　some　prince　of　Lorraine；　and　held　a　live

coal　in　the　hollow　of　my　hand；　if　her　fing