Mademoiselle de Maupin

IV

Do you know that for nearly five months-yes, for quite five months-for five eternities, I have been Madame Rosette's established Celadon? It is perfectly splendid. I should never have believed that I was so constant, nor, I will wager, would she have believed it either. We are, in truth, a couple of plucked pigeons, for only turtle doves could display such tenderness. What billing! What cooing! What ivy-like entwinings! What a twofold existence I Nothing in the world could have been more touching, and our two poor little hearts might have been put on one cartel, pierced by the same spit, with a gusty flame.

“Five months, tete-a-tete, so to speak, for we have been seeing each other every day and nearly every night-the door always closed to everybody; is it not enough to make one shudder to think of it! Well, to the glory of the peerless Rosette, it must be said that I have not been over-much wearied, and that this period will no doubt prove to have been the most agreeable in my life. I do not believe that it would be possible to occupy a man devoid of passion in a more sustained and amusing manner, and God knows what a terrible idleness is that which proceeds from an empty heart! It would be impossible to form any idea of this woman's resources. She commenced by drawing them from her intellect, and then from her heart, for she loves me to adoration. With what art does she profit by the smallest spark, and how well she knows how to convert it into a conflagration! how skilfully she directs the faintest movements of the soul! how well can she turn languor into tender dreaming! and by how many indirect paths can she guide the mind that is wandering from her back to herself again! It is wonderful! And I admire her as one of the loftiest geniuses that can exist.

“I came to see her very cross, in a very bad temper, and seeking a quarrel. I know not how the sorceress managed it, but at the end of a few minutes she had obliged me to pay her compliments, although I had not the least wish to do so, and to kiss her hands and laugh with all my heart, although I was terribly angry. Is such tyranny conceivable? Nevertheless, skilful as she is, the tete-a-tete cannot last much longer; and, during the past fortnight, I pretty often chanced to do what I had never done before, to open the books that are on the table, and read a few lines in the intervals of conversation. Rosette noticed it, and was struck with dismay, which she was scarcely able to conceal, and she sent away all the books out of the room. I confess that I regret them, although I cannot ask for them again.

“The other day-frightful symptom! — some one called while we were together, and instead of being furious, as I used to be at the beginning, I experienced a kind of joy. I was almost amiable; I kept up the conversation which Rosette was trying to let drop so that the gentleman might take his leave, and, when he was gone, I volunteered the remark that he was not without wit, and that his society was agreeable. Rosette reminded me that two months before I had thought him stupid, and the silliest nuisance on earth, to which I had nothing to reply, for I had indeed said so. I was nevertheless right, in spite of my recent contradiction: for the first time he disturbed a charming tete-a-tete, and the second time he came to the assistance of a conversation that was exhausted and languishing (on one side at least), and for that day spared me a scene of tenderness somewhat fatiguing to go through.

“Such is our position. It is a grave one-especially when one of the two is still enamored, and clings desperately to what remains of the other's love. I am in great perplexity. Although I am not in love with Rosette, I have a very great affection for her, and I should not like to do anything that would cause her pain. I wish to believe, as long as possible, that I love her.

In gratitude for all those hours to which she has given wings, in gratitude for the love which, for my pleasure, she has bestowed on me, I wish it. I shall deceive her, but is not an agreeable deception better than a distressing truth? for I shall never have the heart to tell her that I do not love her. The vain shadow of love on which she feasts appears so adorable to her, she embraces the pale spectre with such intoxication and effusion that I dare not cause it to vanish; yet I am afraid that in the end she will perceive that, after all, it is but a phantom. This morning we had a conversation, which I am going to relate in dramatic form for the sake of greater fidelity, and which: makes me fear that we cannot prolong our union very long,

“The scene represents Rosette's room. A ray of sun is shining through the curtains; it is ten o'clock. Rosette has one arm beneath my neck, and does not move for fear of waking me. From time to time she raises herself a little on her elbow, and, holding her breath, bends her face over mine. I see all this through the grating of my eyelashes, for I have been awake for an hour past Rosette's chemise has a neck-trimming of Mechlin lace which is all torn, and her hair is escaping in confusion from her little cap. She is as pretty as a woman can be when you do not love her, although she is by your side.

“Rosette (seeing that am I no longer asleep)-'O the naughty sleeper!'

“Myself (yawning)-'A-a-ah!'

“Rosette-'Do not yawn like that, or I will not kiss you for a week.'

“Myself-'Oh!'

“Rosette-'It seems, sir, that you do not think it very important that I should kiss you?'

“Myself-'Yes, I do!'

“Rosette-'How carelessly you say that! Very well; you may expect that for the next week I shall not touch you with the tip of my lips. To-day is Tuesday-so till next Tuesday!'

“Myself-'Pshaw!'

“Rosette-'How, pshaw!'

“Myself-'Yes, pshaw. You will kiss me before this evening, or I die!'

“Rosette-'You will die! What a coxcomb! I have spoiled you, sir.

“Myself-'I will live. I am not a coxcomb, and you have not spoiled me-quite the contrary. First of all, I request the suppression of the Sir; you are well enough acquainted with me to call me by my name, and to say thou to me!'

“Rosette-'I have spoiled thee, D'Albert!'

“Myself-'Good. Now bring your lips near!'

“Rosette-'No, next Tuesday!'

“Myself-'Nonsense. Are we not to pet each other for the future except with a calendar in our hands? We are both a little too young for that. Now, your lips, my infanta, or I shall get a crick in my neck!'

“Rosette-'No!'

“Myself-'Ah! you wish to be ravished, my pet; by heavens! you shall be. The thing is feasible, though perhaps it has not been done yet!'

“Rosette-'Impertinent man!'

“Myself-'Observe, most fair one, that I have paid you the compliment of a perhaps; it is very polite on my part. But we are wandering from the subject. Bend your head. Come: what is this, my favorite sultana? and what a cross face. We wish to kiss a smile and not a pout.'

“Rosette (stooping down to kiss me)-'How would you have me laugh? You say such harsh things to me!”

“Myself-'My intention is to say very tender ones.- Why do you think that I say harsh things to you?'

“Rosette-'I don't know-but you do.'

“Myself-'You take jokes of no consequence for harshness.'

“Rosette-'Of no consequence! You call that of no consequence? Everything is of consequence in love. Listen, I would rather have you beat me than laugh as you are doing.'

“Myself-'You would like to see me weep, then?'

“Rosette-'You always go from one extreme to the other. You are not asked to weep, but to speak reasonably, and to give up this quizzing manner, which suits you very badly!'

“MYSELF-' It is impossible for me to speak reasonably and not to quiz; so I am going to beat you, since it is to your liking.'

“Rosette-'Do.'

“Myself (giving her a few little slaps on her shoulders) — 'I would rather cut off my own head than spoil your adorable little body, and marble the whiteness of this charming back with blue. My goddess, whatever pleasure a woman may have in being beaten, you shall certainly not have it.'

“Rosette-'You love me no longer.'

“Myself-'That does not follow very directly from what precedes; it is about as logical as to say: It is raining, so do not give me my umbrella; or: It is cold, open the window.'

“Rosette-'You do not love me, you have never loved me!'

“Myself-'Ah! the matter is becoming complicated: you love me no longer, and you have never loved me. This is tolerably contradictory: how can I leave off doing a thing which I have never begun? You see, little queen, that you do not know what you are saying, and that you are perfectly absurd.

“Rosette-'I wished so much to be loved by you that I assisted in deluding myself. People easily believe what they desire; but now I can quite see that I am deceived. You were deceived yourself; you took a liking for love, and desire for passion. The thing happens every day. I bear you no ill-will for it; it did not depend upon yourself to be in love; I must lay the blame on my own lack of charms. I should have been more beautiful, more playful, more coquettish; I should have tried to mount up to you, O my poet! instead of wishing you to come down to me: I was afraid of losing you in the clouds, and I dreaded lest your head should steal away your heart from me. I imprisoned you in my love, and I believed when giving up myself wholly to you that you would keep something…”

“Myself-'Rosette, move back a little; you are like a hot coal!'

“Rosette-'If I am in your way, I will get up. Ah, heart of rock, drops of water pierce the stone, and my tears cannot penetrate you!' (She weeps.)

“Myself-'If you weep like that, you will certainly turn our bed into a bath. A bath? I should say into an ocean. Can you swim, Rosette?'

“Rosette-'Villain!'

“Myself-'Well! all at once I am a villain! You flatter me, Rosette, I have not the honor: I am a gentle citizen, alas, and have never committed the smallest crime; I have done a foolish thing, perhaps, which was to love you to distraction; that is all. Would you absolutely make me repent of it? I have loved you, and I love you as much as I can. Since I have been your lover, I have always walked in your shadow: I have given up all my time to you, my days and my nights. I have not used lofty phrases with you, because I do not like them except in writing; but I have given you a thousand proofs of my fondness. I will say nothing to you of the most scrupulous fidelity, for that is of course. I have become seven quarters of a pound thinner since you have been my adoration. What more would you have? Here I am by your side; do people behave in this way with those whom they do not love? I do everything that you wish. You say “Go,” and I go; “Stay,” and I stay. I am the most admirable lover in the world, it seems to me.”

“Rosette-'That is just what I complain about-the most perfect lover in the world, in fact.'

“Myself-'What have you to reproach me with?'

“Rosette-'Nothing, and I would rather have some cause of complaint against you.'

“Myself-'This is a strange quarrel.'

“Rosette-'It is much worse. You do not love me. I cannot help it nor can you. What would you have done in such a case? Unquestionably I should prefer to have some fault to pardon in you. I would scold you; you would excuse yourself well or ill, and we should make it up.'

“Myself-'It would be all to your advantage. The greater the crime the more splendid would the reparation be.”

“Rosette-'You are quite aware, sir, that I am not yet reduced to employ that expedient, and that if I pleased presently, although you do not love me, and we are quarrelling….”

“Myself-'Yes, I acknowledge it as purely an effect of your clemency. Do please a little; it would be better than syllogizing at random as we are doing.

“Rosette-'You wish to cut short a conversation which is inconvenient to you; but, if you please, my fine friend, we shall content ourselves with speaking!'

“Myself-'It is an entertainment that does not cost much. I assure you that you are wrong; for you are wonderfully pretty, and I feel towards you…”

“Rosette-'What you will express to me another time.'

“Myself-'Oh come, adorable one, are you a little Hyrcanian tigress? You are incomparably cruel to-day! Are you eager to become a vestal? It would be an original caprice.

“Rosette-'Why not? There have been stranger ones than that; but I shall certainly be a vestal for you. Learn, sir, that I am partial only to people who love me, or by whom I believe myself loved. You do not come under either of these two denominations. Allow me to rise!'

“Myself-'If you get up, I shall get up as well. You will have the trouble of getting into bed again: that is all.

“Rosette-'Let me alone!”

“Myself-'By heavens, no!'

“Rosette (struggling)-' Oh! you will let me go!'

“Myself-'I venture, madame, to assure you of the contrary.

“Rosette (seeing that she is not the stronger)-'Well! I will stay; you are squeezing my arm with such force! — What do you want with me?'

“Myself-'To remain where you are. I think you might have divined this much without asking any such superfluous question.

“Rosette (already finding it impossible to defend herself)-' On condition that you will love me a great deal- I surrender.

“Myself-'It is rather late to surrender when the enemy is already victorious.

“Rosette (throwing her arms round my neck)-'Then I surrender unconditionally-I trust to your generosity.

“Myself-'You do well.'

“The ray of sunshine has had time to make the circuit of the room since the beginning of this scene. An odor of lime-trees comes in from the garden, sweet and penetrating. The weather is the finest that could be seen; the sky is as blue as an Englishwoman's eye We get up, and after breakfasting with great appetite, go for a long rural walk. The transparency of the air, the splendor of the country, and the joyous aspect of nature inspired my soul with enough sentimentality and tenderness to make Rosette acknowledge that after all I had a sort of heart like other people.

“Have you never remarked how the shade of woods, the murmuring of fountains, the singing of birds, smiling prospects, fragrance of foliage and flowers, all the baggage of eclogue and description which we have agreed to laugh at, none the less preserves over us, however depraved we may be, an occult power which it is impossible to resist? I will confide to you, under the seal of the greatest secret, that quite recently I surprised myself in a state of most countrified emotion towards a nightingale that was singing.

“It was in — 's garden; although it was night, the sky had a clearness nearly equal to that of the finest day; it was so deep and so transparent that the gaze easily penetrated to God. It seemed to me that I could see the last folds of angels' robes floating over the pale windings of the Milky Way. The moon had risen, but a large tree hid her completely; she riddled its dark foliage with a million little luminous holes, and hung more spangles upon it than had ever the fan of a marchioness. Silence, filled with sounds and stifled sighs, was heard throughout the garden (this perhaps resembles pathos, but it is not my fault); although I saw nothing but the blue glimmering of the moon I seemed to be surrounded by a population of unknown and worshipped phantoms, and I did not feel alone, although there was only myself on the terrace.

“I was not thinking, I was not dreaming, I was blended with the nature that surrounded me; I felt myself quiver with the foliage, glisten with the water, shine, with the ray, expand with the flower; I was not myself more than the trees, the water, and the great night-shade. I was all of these, and I do not believe that it would be possible to be more absent from one's self than I was at that moment. All at once, as though something extraordinary were going to happen, the leaf was stilled at the end of the branch, the water-drop in the fountain remained suspended in air, and did not complete its fall; the silver thread which had set out from the edge of the moon stopped on its way-only my heart beat so sonorously that it seemed to fill all that great space with sound. It ceased to beat, and there fell such a silence that you might have heard the grass grow, and a word whispered at a distance of two hundred leagues. Then from the little throat of the nightingale, which probably was only waiting for this moment to begin its song, there burst a note so shrill and piercing that I heard it with my heart as much as with my ears. The sound spread suddenly through the crystalline sky, which was void of noise, and formed a harmonious atmosphere, wherein, beating their wings, hovered the other notes which followed.

“I understood perfectly what it said, as though I had had the secret of the language of the birds. It was the history of the loves which had not been mine that this nightingale sang. Never was a history more accurate and true. It did not omit the smallest detail or the most imperceptible tint. It told me what I had been unable to tell myself, and explained to me what I had been unable to understand; it gave a voice to my dreaming, and caused the phantom, mute until then, to reply. I knew that I was loved, and the most languishing trilling taught me that I should be happy soon. I thought that through the quivering song, and beneath the rain of notes, I could see the white arms of my beloved stretched out towards me in a ray from the moon. She came up slowly with the perfume from the heart of a large hundred-leaved rose.

“I shall not try to describe her beauty. It was one of those things to which words are denied. How speak the unspeakable? how paint that which has neither form nor color? how mark a voice which is without tone and speech? Never had I had so much love in my heart; I would have pressed nature to my bosom. I clasped the void in my arms as though I had closed them on a maiden's form; I gave kisses to the air that passed across my lips; I swam in effluence from my own radiant body. Ah! if Rosette had been there! What adorable nonsense would I have uttered to her! But women never know when to arrive opportunely. The nightingale ceased to sing; the moon, worn out with sleep, drew her cloud-cap over her eyes; and I–I left the garden, for the coldness of the night began to overtake me.

“As I was cold, I very naturally thought I should be warmer in Rosette's bed than in my own, and I went to share her couch. I entered with my pass-key, for every one in the house was slumbering. Rosette herself had fallen asleep, and I had the satisfaction of seeing that it was over an uncut volume of my latest poems. She had both her arms above her head, her mouth smiling and partly open, one leg stretched out and the other slightly bent in a posture of grace and ease; she looked so well that I felt mortal regret at not being more in love with her.

“While gazing upon her, I bethought me that I was as stupid as an ostrich. I had what I had desired so long, a mistress of my own like my horse and my sword, young, pretty, amorous and intellectual-with no high-principled mother, decorous father, intractable aunt, or fighting brother; with the unspeakable charm of a husband duly sealed and nailed in a fine oak coffin lined with lead, and the whole covered over with a big block of freestone-a circumstance not to be despised, for it is, after all, but slight entertainment to be caught in the midst of amorous enjoyment, and to go and complete the sensation on the pavement, after describing an arc of from 40 to 50 degrees, according to the story on which you happen to be-a mistress as free as mountain air, rich enough to indulge in the most exquisite refinements and elegancies, and devoid, moreover, of all moral ideas, never speaking to you of her virtue while trying a new position, nor of her reputation any more than if she had never had one; never intimate with women, and scorning them all nearly as much as if she were a man, making very light of Platonism without any concealment, and yet always bringing the heart into play:- a woman who, had she been placed in a different sphere, would undoubtedly have become the most notorious courtesan in the world, and made the glory of the Aspasias and Imperias grow pale!

“Then this woman so constituted was mine. I did what I would with her; I had the key of her room and her drawer; I opened her letters; I had taken her own name from her and given her another. She was my thing, my property. Her youth, beauty, love all belonged to me and I used and abused them. I made her go to bed during the day and sit up at night, if I took a fancy to do so, and she obeyed me simply, without appearing to make a sacrifice, and without assuming the little airs of a resigned victim. She was attentive, caressing, and, monstrous circumstance, scrupulously faithful; that is to say, that if six months ago, when I was complaining of being without a mistress, I had been given even a distant glimpse of such happiness, I should have gone mad with joy, and sent my hat knocking against the sky in token of my rejoicing. Well! now that I have her, this happiness seems cold to me; I scarcely feel, I do not feel it, and the situation in which I am affects me so little, that I am often doubtful whether I have made a change. Were I to leave Rosette, I have an intimate conviction, that at the end of a month, perhaps before, I should have so completely and carefully forgotten her, that I should no longer be able to tell whether I had known her or not! Would she do as much on her part? I think not.

“I was reflecting, then, upon all these things, and, feeling a sort of repentance, I laid on the fair sleeper's forehead the chastest and most melancholy kiss that ever a young man gave a young woman on the stroke of midnight. She moved a little, and the smile on her lips became somewhat more decided, but she did not awake. I leant over her and stretching out my arms I coiled them around her in snake-like fashion. The contact of my body seemed to rouse her; she opened her eyes, raised herself, and, without speaking to me, she fastened her mouth to mine, and clung so tightly to me as to set my blood coursing rapidly, and I was warmed in less than no time. All the lyrism of the evening was turned into prose; but it was at least poetical prose. That night was one of the fairest sleepless nights that I have ever spent; I can hope for such no longer.

“We still have agreeable moments, but it is necessary that they should have been led up to, and prepared for, by some external circumstance such as I have related, and at the beginning I had no need to excite my imagination by looking at the moon and listening to the nightingale's song, in order to have all the pleasure that is possible to a man who is not really in love. There are no broken threads as yet in our weft, but there are knots here and there, and the warp is not nearly so smooth.

“Rosette, who is still in love, does what she can to obviate these inconveniences. Unfortunately, there are two things in the world which cannot be commanded-love and weariness. On my part, I make superhuman efforts to overcome the somnolence which overtakes me in spite of myself, and, like country people who fall asleep at ten o'clock in town drawing-rooms, I keep my eyes as wide open as possible, and lift up my eyelids with my fingers! It is of no use, and I assume a conjugal freedom from restraint which is most unpleasing.

“The dear child, who the other day found herself the better for the rural system, brought me yesterday into the country.

“It might be to the purpose, perhaps, to give you a little description of the said' country, which is rather pretty; it might enliven our metaphysics somewhat, and, besides, the characters must have a background; the figures cannot stand out against a blank, or against that vague brown tint with which painters fill the field of their canvas.

“The approaches to it are very picturesque. You arrive, by a highway bordered with old trees, at a star, the middle of which is marked by a stone obelisk surmounted by a ball of gilt copper. Five roads form the rays; then the ground becomes suddenly hollow. The road dips into a rather narrow valley, crosses the little stream, that occupies the bottom, by a one-arched bridge, and then with great strides reascends the opposite side, where stands the little village, the slated steeple of which can be seen peeping from among the thatched roofs and round-headed apple-trees. The horizon is not very vast, for it is bounded on both sides by the crest of the hill, but it is cheerful and rests the eye. Besides the bridge there is a mill, and a structure of red stones in the shape of a tower; the nearly perpetual barking, and the sight of some brachs and young bandy-legged turnspits warming themselves in the sun before the door, would tell you that it is there that the gamekeeper dwells, if the buzzards and martins nailed to the shutters could leave you in doubt about it for a moment.

“At this spot there begins an avenue of sorbs, the scarlet fruit of which attracts clouds of birds. As people do not pass there very often, there is only a white band along the middle; all the rest is covered over with a short fine moss, and in the double rut traced by the wheels of vehicles, little frogs, green as chrysoprase, croak and hop. After proceeding for some time you find yourself before a gilded and painted iron grating, its sides adorned with spiked fences and chevaux-de-frise. Then the road turns towards the mansion-which, being buried in the verdure like a bird's nest, cannot as yet be seen-without hastening too much, however, and not infrequently turning aside to visit an elegant kiosk or a fine prospect, crossing and recrossing the stream by Chinese or rustic bridges.

“Owing to the unevenness of the ground, and the dams erected for the service of the mill, the stream has, in several places, a fall of from four to five feet, and nothing can be more pleasant than to hear all these cascades prattling close at hand, most frequently without seeing them, for the osiers and elders which line the bank form an almost impenetrable curtain. But all this portion of the park is in a measure only the ante-chamber of the other part. A high road passing across this property unfortunately cuts it in two, an inconvenience which has been remedied in a very ingenious manner. Two great embattled walls, full of barbicans and loopholes, in imitation of a ruined fortress, stand on either side of the road; a tower on which hangs gigantic ivy, and which flanks the mansion, lets fall on the opposite bastion a veritable drawbridge, with iron chains, which is lowered every morning.

“You pass through a pointed archway into the interior of the donjon, and thence into the second enclosure, where the trees, which have not been cut for more than a century, are of extraordinary height, with knotty trunks swaddled in parasitical plants, and are the finest and most singular that I have ever seen. Some have no leaves except at the top, where they terminate in broad parasols; others taper into plumes. Others, on the contrary, have near the body a large tuft, out of which the stripped stem shoots up to heaven like a second tree planted in the first; you would think that they formed the foreground of an artificial landscape, or the side-scenes of a theatrical decoration, so curiously deformed are they; while ivy passing from one to the other and suffocating them in its embrace, mingles its dark hearts with the green leaves and looks like their shadows. Nothing in the world could be more picturesque. The stream widens at this spot so as to form a little lake, and its shallowness allows the beautiful aquatic plants, which carpet its bed, to be seen beneath the transparent water. These are nymphacese and lotuses floating carelessly in the purest crystal, with the reflections of the clouds and of the weeping-willows that lean over on the bank. The mansion is on the other side, and this little skiff, painted apple-green and light red, will save you going rather a long round to reach the bridge..

“It is a collection of buildings, constructed at different epochs, with uneven gables, and a crowd of little bell-turrets. This pavilion is of brick, with corners of stone; this main building is of a rustic order, full of embossments and vermiculations. This other pavilion is quite modern; it has a flat roof, after the Italian fashion, with vases and a balustrade of tiles, and a vestibule of ticking in the shape of a tent. The windows are all of different sizes, and do not correspond; they are of all kinds. We find even trefoils and ogives, for the chapel is Gothic. Certain portions are latticed, like Chinese houses, with trellis-work painted in different colors, whereon climb woodbines, jessamines, nasturtiums, and Virginian creepers, the long sprays of which enter the rooms familiarly, and seem to stretch out a hand to you and bid you good-morning.

“In spite of this want of regularity, or rather by reason of it, the appearance of the building is charming. It has at least not all been seen at once, you can make a choice, and you are always bethinking yourself of something that had not been noticed. This dwelling, which I did not know of, as it is at a distance of twenty leagues, pleased me at the very first, and I was most grateful to Rosette for having had the triumphant idea of choosing such a nest for our loves.

“We arrived there at the close of day; and being fatigued, had nothing more urgent, after supping with great appetite, than to go to bed-separately, be it understood-for we intended to sleep seriously.

“I was dreaming some rose-colored dream, full of flowers, perfumes, and birds, when I felt a warm breath on my forehead, and a kiss descending upon it with throbbing wings. A delicate noise of lips, and a soft moisture on the place that was touched, made me think that I was not dreaming. I opened my eyes, and the first thing that I saw was the fresh white neck of Rosette, who was bending down over the bed to kiss me. I threw my arms around her form, and returned her kiss more amorously than I had done for a long time.

“She went away to draw the curtain and open the window, then came back and sat down on the edge of my bed, holding my hand between both of hers and playing with my rings. Her attire was most coquettishly simple. She was without corset or petticoat, and had absolutely nothing on her but a large dressing-gown of cambric, as white as milk, very ample and with broad folds; her hair was drawn up on the top of her head with a little white rose, of the kind that has only three or four leaves; her ivory feet played in slippers worked in brilliant and variegated colors, as delicate as possible, though still too large, and with no quarter like those of the young Roman ladies. As I looked at her I regretted that I was her lover, and had not to become so.

“The dream that I had at the moment when she came to awake me in so agreeable a manner was not very remote from the reality. My room looked upon the little lake that I have just described. My window was framed with jessamine, which was shaking its stars in silver rain upon the floor. Large foreign flowers were poising their urns beneath my balcony as though to cense me; a sweet and undecided odor, formed of a thousand different perfumes, penetrated to my bed, whence I could see the water gleaming and scaling into millions of spangles; the birds were twittering, warbling, chirping and piping. It was a harmonious noise, and confused like the hum of a festival. Opposite, on a sunlit hill, stretched a lawn of golden green, on which some large oxen, scattered here and there, were feeding under the care of a little boy. Quite alone, and further away, might be seen immense squares of forest of a darker green, from which the bluish smoke of the charcoal kilns curled spirally upwards.

“Everything in this picture was calm, fresh and smiling, and in whatever direction I turned my eyes, I saw nothing that was not fair and young. My room was hung in chintz, with mats on the floor; blue Japanese pots, with round bodies and tapering necks, and filled with singular flowers, were artistically arranged on the whatnots and on the dark-blue marble chimneypiece, which was also filled with flowers; there were frieze-panels of gay color and delicate design, representing scenes from rural or pastoral nature, and sofas and divans in every corner, and then-a beautiful and youthful woman all in white, her flesh giving a tender rose tint to her transparent dress where it touched it. It would be impossible to imagine anything better ordered for the gratification alike of soul and eye.

“Thus my contented and careless glance would pass with equal pleasure from a magnificent pot strewn with dragons and mandarins to Rosette's slipper, and from that to the corner of her shoulder which shone beneath the cambric; it would pause at the trembling stars of the jessamine and the white tresses of the willows on the bank, cross the water and wander on the hill, and then come back into the room, to be fixed on the rose-colored bows on the corset of some shepherdess.

“Through the slashes in the foliage the sky was opening thousands of blue eyes; the water prattled softly, and I, plunged in tranquil ecstasy, without speaking, and with my hand still between Rosette's two little ones, gave myself up to all this joy.

“Do what we may, happiness is pink and white; it can scarcely be represented otherwise. Delicate colors suit it as a matter of course. On its palette it has only water-green, sky-blue, and straw-yellow. Its pictures are all bright, like those of the Chinese painters. Flowers, light, perfumes, a soft and silken skin which touches yours, a veiled harmony coming you know not whence, with these there is perfect happiness, and there is no means of living happy in a different way. For myself, I, who have a horror of the common-place, who dream but of strange adventures, strong passions, delirious ecstasies, and odd and difficult situations, I must be foolishly happy in the manner I have indicated, and, for all my efforts, I have never been able to discover any other method of being so.

“I would have you know that I made none of these reflections then; it was after the event and when writing to you that they occurred to me; at the moment in question I was occupied only in enjoying-the sole occupation of a reasonable man.

“I will not describe to you the life that we are leading here; it may easily be imagined. There are walks in the great woods, violets and strawberries, kisses and little blue flowers, luncheons on the grass, readings and books forgotten beneath the trees; parties on the water with the end of a scarf or a white hand dipping in the current, long songs and long laughter repeated by the echo on the bank; the most Arcadian life that could be imagined!

“Rosette overwhelms me with caresses and attentions; cooing more than a dove in the month of May, she rolls herself about me and encircles me in her folds; she strives that I may have no other atmosphere than her breath, and no other horizon than her eyes; she invests me very care-fully, and suffers nothing whatever to enter or come forth without permission; she has built a little guard-house beside my heart, whence she keeps watch over it night and day. She says charming things to me; she makes me the kindest madrigals; she sits at my feet and behaves before me quite like a humble slave before her lord and master-behavior which suits me well enough, for I like these little submissive ways and I have an inclination towards oriental despotism. She never does the smallest thing without taking my advice, and she seems completely to have renounced whim and wish; she tries to divine my thought and to anticipate it; she is wearisome with wit, tenderness, and kindness; she is perfect enough to be thrown out of the window. How the devil can I give up so adorable a woman without seeming a monster? It would be enough to discredit my heart for ever.

“Oh! how I long to find her in fault, and to discover something wrong against her! how impatiently I wait for an opportunity for a quarrel! but there is no danger that the rogue will furnish me with one! When I speak abruptly and in a harsh tone to her, in order to bring about an altercation, she gives me such soft answers, in such silvery tones, with such moist eyes, and with such a sad and loving mien that I seem to myself something worse than a tiger, or else a crocodile at the very least, and, in spite of my rage, am obliged to ask her pardon.

“She literally murders me with love; she puts me to the torture, and every day brings the planks, between which I am caught, a notch closer. She probably wants to drive me into telling her that I detest her, that she wearies me to death, and that, if she does not leave me at peace, I will cut her face with a horsewhip. By heavens! she will succeed, and, if she continues to be so amiable, the devil take me but it will be before long.

“In spite of all these fair appearances, Rosette has had enough of me as I of her; but as she has committed glaring follies on my account, she will not, by a rupture, put herself in the wrong in the eyes of the worthy corporation of womankind. Every great passion pretends to be eternal, and it is very convenient to avail one's self of its advantages without being subjected to its drawbacks. Rosette reasons in this manner: 'Here is a young man who has only a remnant of liking for me, and being artless and gentle he does not dare to show it openly, and is at his wits' end; it is clear that I weary him, but he will die with the trouble of it rather than take it upon himself to leave me. As he is a sort of poet, he has his head full of fine phrases about love and passion, and believes himself obliged, as a matter of conscience, to play the part of a Tristan or an Amadis. Hence, as nothing in the world is more intolerable than the caresses of one whom you are beginning to love no longer (and to love a woman no longer means to hate her violently), I am going to lavish them on him sufficiently to give him a fit of indigestion, and he will be obliged at any rate to send me to all the devils, or else begin to love me again as he did the first day, which he will carefully abstain from doing.'

“Nothing could be better conceived. Is it not charming to act the deserted Ariadne? People pity you and admire you, and cannot find sufficient imprecations for the wretch who has been monstrous enough to forsake so adorable a creature. You assume a resigned and mournful air, you rest your chin on your hand and your elbow on your knee in such a way as to bring out the pretty blue veins of your wrist. You wear more streaming hair, and for some time adopt dresses of a darker hue. You avoid uttering the name of the ungrateful one, but you make indirect allusions to it, heaving little admirably modulated sighs.

“A woman so good, so beautiful, so impassioned, who has made such great sacrifices, who is absolutely free from reproach, a chosen vessel, a pearl of love, a spotless mirror, a drop of milk, a white rose, an ideal essence for the perfume of a life-a woman who should have been worshipped on bended knees, and who, after her death, ought to be cut in small pieces for the purpose of relics-to abandon her iniquitously, fraudulently, villainously! Why, a corsair would not do worse! To give her her death-blow-for she will assuredly die of it! A man must have a paving-stone in his body instead of a heart to behave in such a way.

“O men! men!

“I say this to myself, but perhaps it is not true.

“Excellent hypocrites as women naturally are, I can scarcely believe that they could go so far as this; are not Rosette's demonstrations after all only the accurate expression of her feelings towards me? However this may be, the continuation of the tete-a-tete is no longer possible, and the fair chatelaine has at last just sent off invitations to her acquaintances in the neighborhood. We are busy making preparations to receive these worthy country people. Good-bye, dear friend.”