Honorine

“She looked at me sweetly, and, like all women when stuck between the issues of a dilemma, or held in the clutches of truth, she persisted, nevertheless, in her wilfulness.

“‘I am a nun,’ she said, ‘and you talk to me of the world where I shall never again set foot.’

“‘Not even in thought?’ said I.

“‘Is the world so much to be desired?’ she replied. ‘Oh! when my mind wanders, it goes higher. The angel of perfection, the beautiful angel Gabriel, often sings in my heart. If I were rich, I should work, all the same, to keep me from soaring too often on the many-tinted wings of the angel, and wandering in the world of fancy. There are meditations which are the ruin of us women! I owe much peace of mind to my flowers, though sometimes they fail to occupy me. On some days I find my soul invaded by a purposeless expectancy; I cannot banish some idea which takes possession of me, which seems to make my fingers clumsy. I feel that some great event is impending, that my life is about to change; I listen vaguely, I stare into the darkness, I have no liking for my work, and after a thousand fatigues I find life once more – everyday life. Is this a warning from heaven? I ask myself – ’

“After three months of this struggle between two diplomates, concealed under the semblance of youthful melancholy, and a woman whose disgust of life made her invulnerable, I told the Count that it was impossible to drag this tortoise out of her shell; it must be broken. The evening before, in our last quite friendly discussion, the Countess had exclaimed:

“‘Lucretia’s dagger wrote in letters of blood the watchword of woman’s charter: Liberty!’

“From that moment the Count left me free to act.

“‘I have been paid a hundred francs for the flowers and caps I made this week!’ Honorine exclaimed gleefully one Saturday evening when I went to visit her in the little sitting-room on the ground floor, which the unavowed proprietor had had regilt.

“It was ten o’clock. The twilight of July and a glorious moon lent us their misty light. Gusts of mingled perfumes soothed the soul; the Countess was clinking in her hand the five gold pieces given to her by a supposititious dealer in fashionable frippery, another of Octave’s accomplices found for him by a judge, M. Popinot.

“‘I earn my living by amusing myself,’ said she; ‘I am free, when men, armed with their laws, have tried to make us slaves. Oh, I have transports of pride every Saturday! In short, I like M. Gaudissart’s gold pieces as much as Lord Byron, your double, liked Mr. Murray’s.’

“‘This is not becoming in a woman,’ said I.

“‘Pooh! Am I a woman? I am a boy gifted with a soft soul, that is all; a boy whom no woman can torture – ’

“‘Your life is the negation of your whole being,’ I replied. ‘What? You, on whom God has lavished His choicest treasures of love and beauty, do you never wish – ’

“‘For what?’ said she, somewhat disturbed by a speech which, for the first time, gave the lie to the part I had assumed.

“‘For a pretty little child, with curling hair, running, playing among the flowers, like a flower itself of life and love, and calling you mother!’

“I waited for an answer. A too prolonged silence led me to perceive the terrible effect of my words, though the darkness at first concealed it. Leaning on her sofa, the Countess had not indeed fainted, but frozen under a nervous attack of which the first chill, as gentle as everything that was part of her, felt, as she afterwards said, like the influence of a most insidious poison. I called Madame Gobain, who came and led away her mistress, laid her on her bed, unlaced her, undressed her, and restored her, not to life, it is true, but to the consciousness of some dreadful suffering. I meanwhile walked up and down the path behind the house, weeping, and doubting my success. I only wished to give up this part of the bird-catcher which I had so rashly assumed. Madame Gobain, who came down and found me with my face wet with tears, hastily went up again to say to the Countess:

“‘What has happened, madame? Monsieur Maurice is crying like a child.’

“Roused to action by the evil interpretation that might be put on our mutual behavior, she summoned superhuman strength to put on a wrapper and come down to me.

“‘You are not the cause of this attack,’ said she. ‘I am subject to these spasms, a sort of cramp of the heart – ’

“‘And will you not tell me of your troubles?’ said I, in a voice which cannot be affected, as I wiped away my tears. ‘Have you not just now told me that you have been a mother, and have been so unhappy as to lose your child?’

“‘Marie!’ she called as she rang the bell. Gobain came in.

“‘Bring lights and some tea,’ said she, with the calm decision of a Mylady clothed in the armor of pride by the dreadful English training which you know too well.

“When the housekeeper had lighted the tapers and closed the shutters, the Countess showed me a mute countenance; her indomitable pride and gravity, worthy of a savage, had already reasserted their mastery. She said:

“‘Do you know why I like Lord Byron so much? It is because he suffered as animals do. Of what use are complaints when they are not an elegy like Manfred’s, nor bitter mockery like Don Juan’s, nor a reverie like Childe Harold’s? Nothing shall be known of me. My heart is a poem that I lay before God.’

“‘If I chose – ’ said I.

“‘If?’ she repeated.

“‘I have no interest in anything,’ I replied, ‘so I cannot be inquisitive; but, if I chose, I could know all your secrets by to-morrow.’

“‘I defy you!’ she exclaimed, with ill-disguised uneasiness.

“‘Seriously?’

“‘Certainly,’ said she, tossing her head. ‘If such a crime is possible, I ought to know it.’

“‘In the first place, madame,’ I went on, pointing to her hands, ‘those pretty fingers, which are enough to show that you are not a mere girl – were they made for toil? Then you call yourself Madame Gobain, you, who, in my presence the other day on receiving a letter, said to Marie: “Here, this is for you?” Marie is the real Madame Gobain; so you conceal your name behind that of your housekeeper. – Fear nothing, madame, from me. You have in me the most devoted friend you will ever have: Friend, do you understand me? I give this word its sacred and pathetic meaning, so profaned in France, where we apply it to our enemies. And your friend, who will defend you against everything, only wishes that you should be as happy as such a woman ought to be. Who can tell whether the pain I have involuntarily caused you was not a voluntary act?’

“‘Yes,’ replied she with threatening audacity, ‘I insist on it. Be curious, and tell me all that you can find out about me; but,’ and she held up her finger, ‘you must also tell me by what means you obtain your information. The preservation of the small happiness I enjoy here depends on the steps you take.’

“‘That means that you will fly – ’

“‘On wings!’ she cried, ‘to the New World – ’

“‘Where you will be at the mercy of the brutal passions you will inspire,’ said I, interrupting her. ‘Is it not the very essence of genius and beauty to shine, to attract men’s gaze, to excite desires and evil thoughts? Paris is a desert with Bedouins; Paris is the only place in the world where those who must work for their livelihood can hide their life. What have you to complain of? Who am I? An additional servant – M. Gobain, that is all. If you have to fight a duel, you may need a second.’

“‘Never mind; find out who I am. I have already said that I insist. Now, I beg that you will,’ she went on, with the grace which you ladies have at command,” said the Consul, looking at the ladies.

“‘Well, then, to-morrow, at the same hour, I will tell you what I may have discovered,’ replied I. ‘But do not therefore hate me! Will you behave like other women?’

“‘What do other women do?’

“‘They lay upon us immense sacrifices, and when we have made them, they reproach us for it some time later as if it were an injury.’

“‘They are right if the thing required appears to be a sacrifice!’ replied she pointedly.

“‘Instead of sacrifices, say efforts and – ’

“‘It would be an impertinence,’ said she.

“‘Forgive me,’ said I. ‘I forget that woman and the Pope are infallible.’

“‘Good heavens!’ said she after a long pause, ‘only two words would be enough to destroy the peace so dearly bought, and which I enjoy like a fraud – ’

“She rose and paid no further heed to me.

“‘Where can I go?’ she said. ‘What is to become of me? – Must I leave this quiet retreat, that I had arranged with such care to end my days in?’

“‘To end your days!’ exclaimed I with visible alarm. ‘Has it never struck you that a time would come when you could no longer work, when competition will lower the price of flowers and articles of fashion – ?’

“‘I have already saved a thousand crowns,’ she said.

“‘Heavens! what privations such a sum must represent!’ I exclaimed.

“‘Leave me,’ said she, ‘till to-morrow. This evening I am not myself; I must be alone. Must I not save my strength in case of disaster? For, if you should learn anything, others besides you would be informed, and then – Good-night,’ she added shortly, dismissing me with an imperious gesture.