modeste mignon-第12章

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ties　that　bind　them；　especially　if　they　have　tied　them　voluntarily。

The　secretary　was　therefore　still　living　in　domestic　relations　with

the　poet　when　Modeste's　letter　arrived；in　such　relations；　be　it

said；　as　involved　a　perpetual　sacrifice　of　his　feelings。　La　Briere

admitted　the　frankness　with　which　Canalis　had　laid　himself　bare　before

him。　Moreover；　the　defects　of　the　man；　who　will　always　be　considered　a

great　poet　during　his　lifetime　and　flattered　as　Martmontel　was

flattered；　were　only　the　wrong　side　of　his　brilliant　qualities。

Without　his　vanity　and　his　magniloquence　it　is　possible　that　he　might

never　have　acquired　the　sonorous　elocution　which　is　so　useful　and　even

necessary　an　instrument　in　political　life。　His　cold…bloodedness

touched　at　certain　points　on　rectitude　and　loyalty；　his　ostentation

had　a　lining　of　generosity。　Results；　we　must　remember；　are　to　the

profit　of　society；　motives　concern　God。



But　after　the　arrival　of　Modeste's　letter　Ernest　deceived　himself　no

longer　as　to　Canalis。　The　pair　had　just　finished　breakfast　and　were

talking　together　in　the　poet's　study；　which　was　on　the　ground…floor　of

a　house　standing　back　in　a　court…yard；　and　looked　into　a　garden。



〃There！〃　exclaimed　Canalis；　〃I　was　telling　Madame　de　Chaulieu　the

other　day　that　I　ought　to　bring　out　another　poem；　I　knew　admiration

was　running　short；　for　I　have　had　no　anonymous　letters　for　a　long

time。〃



〃Is　it　from　an　unknown　woman？〃



〃Unknown？　yes！a　D'Este；　in　Havre；　evidently　a　feigned　name。〃



Canalis　passed　the　letter　to　La　Briere。　The　little　poem；　with　all　its

hidden　enthusiasms；　in　short；　poor　Modeste's　heart；　was　disdainfully

handed　over；　with　the　gesture　of　a　spoiled　dandy。



〃It　is　a　fine　thing；〃　said　the　lawyer；　〃to　have　the　power　to　attract

such　feelings；　to　force　a　poor　woman　to　step　out　of　the　habits　which

nature；　education；　and　the　world　dictate　to　her；　to　break　through

conventions。　What　privileges　genius　wins！　A　letter　such　as　this；

written　by　a　young　girla　genuine　young　girlwithout　hidden

meanings；　with　real　enthusiasm〃



〃Well；　what？〃　said　Canalis。



〃Why；　a　man　might　suffer　as　much　as　Tasso　and　yet　feel　recompensed；〃

cried　La　Briere。



〃So　he　might；　my　dear　fellow；　by　a　first　letter　of　that　kind；　and　even

a　second；　but　how　about　the　thirtieth？　And　suppose　you　find　out　that

these　young　enthusiasts　are　little　jades？　Or　imagine　a　poet　rushing

along　the　brilliant　path　in　search　of　her；　and　finding　at　the　end　of

it　an　old　Englishwoman　sitting　on　a　mile…stone　and　offering　you　her

hand！　Or　suppose　this　post…office　angel　should　really　be　a　rather　ugly

girl　in　quest　of　a　husband？　Ah；　my　boy！　the　effervescence　then　goes

down。〃



〃I　begin　to　perceive；〃　said　La　Briere；　smiling；　〃that　there　is

something　poisonous　in　glory；　as　there　is　in　certain　dazzling

flowers。〃



〃And　then；〃　resumed　Canalis；　〃all　these　women；　even　when　they　are

simple…minded；　have　ideals；　and　you　can't　satisfy　them。　They　never　say

to　themselves　that　a　poet　is　a　vain　man；　as　I　am　accused　of　being；

they　can't　conceive　what　it　is　for　an　author　to　be　at　the　mercy　of　a

feverish　excitement；　which　makes　him　disagreeable　and　capricious；　they

want　him　always　grand；　noble；　it　never　occurs　to　them　that　genius　is　a

disease；　or　that　Nathan　lives　with　Florine；　that　D'Arthez　is　too　fat；

and　Joseph　Bridau　is　too　thin；　that　Beranger　limps；　and　that　their　own

particular　deity　may　have　the　snuffles！　A　Lucien　de　Rubempre；　poet　and

cupid；　is　a　phoenix。　And　why　should　I　go　in　search　of　compliments　only

to　pull　the　string　of　a　shower…bath　of　horrid　looks　from　some

disillusioned　female？〃



〃Then　the　true　poet；〃　said　La　Briere；　〃ought　to　remain　hidden；　like

God；　in　the　centre　of　his　worlds；　and　be　only　seen　in　his　own

creations。〃



〃Glory　would　cost　too　dear　in　that　case；〃　answered　Canalis。　〃There　is

some　good　in　life。　As　for　that　letter；〃　he　added；　taking　a　cup　of　tea；

〃I　assure　you　that　when　a　noble　and　beautiful　woman　loves　a　poet　she

does　not　hide　in　the　corner　boxes；　like　a　duchess　in　love　with　an

actor；　she　feels　that　her　beauty；　her　fortune；　her　name　are　protection

enough；　and　she　dares　to　say　openly；　like　an　epic　poem：　'I　am　the

nymph　Calypso；　enamored　of　Telemachus。'　Mystery　and　feigned　names　are

the　resources　of　little　minds。　For　my　part　I　no　longer　answer　masks〃



〃I　should　love　a　woman　who　came　to　seek　me；〃　cried　La　Briere。　〃To　all

you　say　I　reply；　my　dear　Canalis；　that　it　cannot　be　an　ordinary　girl

who　aspires　to　a　distinguished　man；　such　a　girl　has　too　little　trust；

too　much　vanity；　she　is　too　faint…hearted。　Only　a　star；　a〃



〃princess！〃　cried　Canalis；　bursting　into　a　shout　of　laughter；　〃only

a　princess　can　descend　to　him。　My　dear　fellow；　that　doesn't　happen

once　in　a　hundred　years。　Such　a　love　is　like　that　flower　that　blossoms

every　century。　Princesses；　let　me　tell　you；　if　they　are　young；　rich；

and　beautiful；　have　something　else　to　think　of；　they　are　surrounded

like　rare　plants　by　a　hedge　of　fools；　well…bred　idiots　as　hollow　as

elder…bushes！　My　dream；　alas！　the　crystal　of　my　dream；　garlanded　from

hence　to　the　Correze　with　rosesah！　I　cannot　speak　of　itit　is　in

fragments　at　my　feet；　and　has　long　been　so。　No；　no；　all　anonymous

letters　are　begging　letters；　and　what　sort　of　begging？　Write　yourself

to　that　young　woman；　if　you　suppose　her　young　and　pretty；　and　you'll

find　out。　There　is　nothing　like　experience。　As　for　me；　I　can't

reasonably　be　expected　to　love　every　woman；　Apollo；　at　any　rate　he　of

Belvedere；　is　a　delicate　consumptive　who　must　take　care　of　his

health。〃



〃But　when　a　woman　writes　to　you　in　this　way　her　excuse　must　certainly

be　in　her　consciousness　that　she　is　able　to　eclipse　in　tenderness　and

beauty　every　other　woman；〃　said　Ernest；　〃and　I　should　think　you　might

feel　some　curiosity〃



〃Ah；〃　said　Canalis；　〃permit　me；　my　juvenile　friend；　to　abide　by　the

beautiful　duchess　who　is　all　my　joy。〃



〃You　are　right；　you　are　right！〃　cried　Ernest。　However；　the　young

secretary　read　and　re…read　Modeste's　letter；　striving　to　guess　the

mind　of　its　hidden　writer。



〃There　is　not　the　least　fine…writing　here；〃　he　said；　〃she　does　not

even　talk　of　your　genius；　she　speaks　to　your　heart。　In　your　place　I

should　feel　tempted　by　this　fragrance　of　modesty；this　proposed

agreement〃



〃Then；　sign　it！〃　cried　Canalis；　laughing；　〃answer　the　letter　and　go　to

the　end　of　the　adventure　yourself。　You　shall　tell　me　the　results　three

months　henceif　the　affair　lasts　so　long。〃



Four　days　later　Modeste　received　the　following　letter；　written　on

extremely　fine　paper；　protected　by　two　envelopes；　and　sealed　with　the

arms　of　Canalis。



　　Mademoiselle；The　admiration　for　fine　works　（allowing　that　my

　　books　are　such）　implies　something　so　lofty　and　sincere　as　to

　　protect　you　from　all　light　jesting；　and　to　justify　before　the

　　sternest　judge　the　step　you　have　taken　in　writing　to　me。



　　But　first　I　must　thank　you　for　the　pleasure　which　such　proofs　of

　　sympathy　afford；　even　though　we　may　not　merit　them；for　the　maker

　　of　verses　and　the　true　poet　are　equally　certain　of　the　intrinsic

　　worth　of　their　writings；so　readily　does　self…esteem　lend　itself

　　to　praise。　The　best　proof　of　friendship　that　I　can　give　to　an

　　unknown　lady　in　exchange　for　a　faith　which　allays　the　sting　of

　　criticism；　is　to　share　with　her　the　harvest　of　my　own　experience；

　　even　at　the　risk　of　dispelling　her　most　vivid　illusions。



　　Mademoiselle；　the　noblest　adornment　of　a　young　girl　is　the　flower

　　of　a　pure　and　saintly　and　irreproachable　life。　Are　you　alone　in

　　the　world？　If　you　are；　there　is　no　need　to　say　more。　But　if　you

　　have　a　family；　a　father　or　a　mother；　think　of　all　the　sorrow　that

　　might　come　to　them　from　such　a　letter　as　yours　addressed　to　a　poet

　　of　whom　you　know　nothing　personally。　All　writers　are　not　angels；

　　they　have　many　defects。　Some　are　frivolous；　heedless；　foppish；

　　ambitious；　dissipated；　and；　believe　me；　no　matter　how　imposing

　　innocence　may　be；　how　chivalrous　a　poet　is；　you　will　meet　with

　　many　a　degenerate　troubadour　in　Paris　ready　to　cultivate　your

　　affection　only　to　betray　it。　By　such　a　man　your　letter　would　be

　　interpreted　otherwise　than　it　is　by　me。　He　would　see　a　thought

　　that　is　not　in　it；　which　you；　in　your　innocence；　have　not

　　suspected。　There　are　as　many　natures　as　there　are　writers。　I　am

　　deeply　flattered　that　you　have　judged　me　capable　of　understanding

　　you；　but　had　you；　perchance；　fallen　upon　a　hypocrite；　a　scoffer；

　　one　whose　books　may　be　melancholy　but　whose　life　is　a　perpetual

　　carnival；　you　would　have　found　as　the　result　of　your　generous

　　imprudence　an　evil…minded　man；　the　frequenter　of　green…rooms；

　　perhaps　a　hero　of　some　gay　resort。　In　the　bower　of　clematis　where

　　you　dream　of　poets；　can　you　smell　the　odor　of　the　cigar　which

　　drives　all　poetry　from　the　manuscript？



　　But　let　us　look　still　further。　How　could　the　dreamy；　solitary　life

　　you　lead；　doubtless　by　the　sea…shore；　interest　a　poet；　whose

　　mission　it　is　to　imagine　all；　and　to　paint　all？　What　reality　can

　　equal　imagination？　The　young　girls　of　the　poets　are　so　ideal　that

　　no　living　daughter　of　Eve　can　compete　with　them。　And　now　tell　me；

　　what　will　you　gain；you；　a　young　girl；　brought　up　to　be　the

　　virtuous　mother　of　a　family；if　you　learn　to　comprehend　the

　　terrible　agitations　of　a　poet's　life　in　this　dreadful　capital；

　　which　may　be　defined　by　one　sentence；the　hell　in　which　men　love。



　　If　the　desire　to　brighten　the　monotonous　existence　of　a　young　girl

　　thirsting　for　knowledge　has　led　you　to　take　your　pen　in　hand　and

　　write　to　me；　has　not　the　step　itself　the　appearance　of

　　degradation？　What　meaning　am　I　to　give　to　your　letter？　Are　you　one

　　of　a　rejected　caste；　and　do　you　seek　a　friend　far　away　from　you？

　　Or；　are　you　afflicted　with　personal　ugliness；　yet　feeling　within

　　you　a　noble　soul　which　can　give　and　receive　a　confidence？　Alas；

　　alas；　the　conclusion　to　be　drawn　is　grievous。　You　have　said　too

　　much；　or　too　little；　you　have　gone　too　far；　or　not　far　enough。

　　Either　let　us　drop　this　correspondence；　or；　if　you　continue　it；

　　tell　me　more　than　in　the　letter　you　have　now　written　me。



　　But；　mademoiselle；　if　you　are　young；　if　you　are　beautiful；　if　you

　　have　a　home；　a　family；　if　in　your　heart　you　have　the　precious

　　ointment；　the　spikenard；　to　pour　out；　as　did　Magdalene　on　the　feet

　　of　Jesus；　let　yourself　be　won　by　a　man　worthy　of　you；　become　what

　　every　pure　young　girl　should　be；a　good　woman；　the　virtuous

　　mother　of　a　family。　A　poet　is　the　saddest　conquest　that　a　girl　can

　　make；　he　is　full　of　vanity；　full　of　angles　that　will　sharply　wound

　　a　woman's　proper　pride；　and　kill　a　tenderness　which　has　no

　　experience　of　life。　The　wife　of　a　poet　should　love　him　long　before

　　she　marries　him；　she　must　train　herself　to　the　charity　of　angels；

　　to　their　forbearance；　to　all　the　virtues　of　motherho