After my marriage was decided upon, I received permission to go alone to
Madame de Pontchartrain's to pay court to Pélagie in her aunt's
presence. In the evening, I sometimes escorted the ladies into society
and took them home. It was not infinitely entertaining to me. I began to
be weary of all that etiquette and ceremony, of all those provincial
puerilities; but I determined that, when I was once married, I would go
back to Paris and teach my wife another way to live.
Despite all the efforts my sister made to hasten what she called the
instant of my happiness, I could not become Pélagie's husband in less
than a month; and in that time I hoped to become better acquainted with
my promised bride. To be sure, I saw her every evening; but it was
always in company, playing parlor games, where everybody's eyes were
fastened on us, trying to divine what two people who are to be married
say to each other. Poor dears! in vain did you prick up your ears and
stretch your necks, trying to catch our lightest words; you could not
possibly hear anything to enlighten you upon that subject, because
Mademoiselle Pélagie and I had never spoken of it.
It may seem surprising that a promised husband had not spoken of love
and marriage to her to whom his troth was plighted; but I confess that I
did not care to admit everybody to the secret of my thoughts, and in
company it would have been very hard for me to say anything to Pélagie
which would not be overheard by all the ears that were constantly on the
alert about us. Moreover, how can one discuss an interesting subject
while playing _La Sellette_ or _Monsieur le Curé_? I hoped to be less
constrained with her in the morning, but the aunt was always there;
often, too, some acquaintance came to make a call. I could not see
Pélagie alone for an instant; it was impossible to carry on a connected
conversation with her, and I began to be impatient. It seemed to me very
natural to make the acquaintance of one's wife before marriage; I felt
sorely tempted to consign to the Evil One all that provincial etiquette
which was so utterly devoid of sense. I decided to apply to my sister to
obtain for me an interview with my intended.
"Amélie, I should be very glad to have a little conversation with
Pélagie."
"Well, what prevents you, my dear? don't you see her every morning and
evening, if you choose?"
"Yes, to be sure, I see her in the morning, but always in the presence
of her aunt and three or four old mummies who would deprive the most
impassioned lover of all desire to make love. Besides, Pélagie is very
shy; how can you expect her to describe her sentiments before people?"
"Why, my dear, you ought to divine them easily enough from the hints she
lets fall."
"My dear girl, at the point we have reached I cannot be content with
hints; I want something positive; in short, I want to know what sort of
a person I have to do with."
"But you are allowed to talk freely enough, I should think."
"Ha! ha! that is delicious! but I tell you again, it isn't enough for
me."
"In the evening, you always sit beside her; you can whisper to her and
squeeze her hand."
"My poor Amélie, you make me laugh with your provincial privileges; a
man has much greater ones in Paris with young women he isn't proposing
to marry."
"So much the worse for the girls in Paris, brother."
"Or so much the better, for, after all, severity overdone is often
harmful; when the principles of virtue are once engraved on a girl's
mind, I don't see why she should not be allowed a reasonable degree of
liberty; those who would make missteps would surely have done it later;
but those who would always behave themselves, and would not abuse the
privilege of listening to foolish talk, they, my dear Amélie, would
bring with them, when they marry, a guarantee of their virtue; for you
will agree that there is no great merit in being innocent when it is
impossible to be anything else."
"Oh! what ideas you have about women, brother! It is easy to see that
you have been spoiled in Paris."
"I have much less narrow ideas than yours as to the training of girls,
sister; for example, I strongly approve the English method, by which
they are allowed to do whatever they choose before marriage. In London,
an unmarried girl goes out alone to call on her friends and
acquaintances. She may go to a concert or theatre with a young man,
without arousing the suspicion that he is her lover. She goes to balls
without a mentor; and in society she may laugh and talk and lead the
conversation, without being called to order by her parents. But when she
is once married, there's a great difference; she must lead an orderly,
quiet life, devoted entirely to the care of her household and her
children; she goes out only with her husband, receives no men except in
his presence, and at parties and receptions consorts with persons of her
own sex, who, like herself, refrain from joining the men, whom they
generally leave at table after dinner to drink and tell stories. Well!
do you think that such a very bad system? For my part, I am convinced
that there are fewer deceived husbands in England than in France."
"Bah! they are deceived there before marriage, that's all the
difference."
"And here, after marriage."
"Brother!"
"Oh! don't be angry; I didn't mean that for you."
"Well! what is the point of your remarks?"
"I want you to procure me a tête-à-tête with Pélagie."
"A tête-à-tête! do you mean it?"
"With my future bride, it will be perfectly proper!"
"But propriety--good morals!"
"Propriety and good morals cannot be offended."
"But the custom!"
"Your customs are beginning to be very irksome to me; and if you don't
obtain me the interview I desire, I am quite capable of decamping some
fine morning and leaving you with my intended and her aunt and all the
gossip of the town on your hands!"
"Oh! mon Dieu! the reckless fellow! he makes me shudder!--Well, I'll try
to arrange it. After all, you're to be married in a week, and--and--in
fact---- But I have an idea: I will go to Madame de Pontchartrain and
ask her permission to take her niece with me to make some purchases that
are necessary for her wedding; she can't refuse me; then I'll bring
Pélagie here, and you can talk to her at your leisure."
"That's a happy idea!"
"But I trust, my dear, that you will behave yourself, and----"
"Don't be alarmed! Really, you have a very low opinion of me."
"The fact that I am going to fetch your intended proves the contrary."
My sister did, in fact, go to Madame de Pontchartrain's. My threat of
leaving Melun had made poor Amélie tremble; she had not even been
willing to let me go to Paris to purchase the indispensable gifts;
Déneterre had undertaken to do all that. I did not insist, for I might
have fallen in with somebody in Paris who would have made me forget my
marriage.
Amélie succeeded in her mission; she soon returned with Pélagie, who, on
seeing me, blushed and courtesied as if I were a stranger.
"Here is my brother, who will be delighted to talk with you," said
Amélie, as she led Pélagie into the house. "I have a thousand things to
do, and I am compelled to leave you for a few minutes; but you will be
united in a week, so I can see no great harm in leaving you together."
Amélie left us, and I was alone with my future wife at last. Pélagie
seated herself at a considerable distance from me, so I began by placing
my chair close to hers and taking possession of both her hands. I was
glad to see that she made no effort to withdraw them. I gazed at her for
several minutes; she kept her eyes fixed on the floor and said not a
word. I concluded that if I did not begin the conversation we should sit
in silence and without moving all day long; indeed, it was my place to
begin.
"You know, mademoiselle, that we are to be married?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"In a week, I shall be your husband."
"Yes, monsieur."
"Does the prospect please you?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Then you love me a little?"
"Yes, monsieur."
That was not bad for a beginning. Still, I was anxious to obtain
something besides that everlasting _yes, monsieur_.--I tried to go about
it so as to make her reply less briefly.
"When you first saw me, did you pick me out from the rest, prefer me to
other young men?"
Doubtless that question seemed embarrassing to her; it was some time
before she answered, but at last I heard a _yes, monsieur_.
"Had your heart never spoken before you saw me?"
"I don't know, monsieur."
"What! do you mean that you have been in love before?"
"Oh! no, monsieur; I don't know anything about love."
"Why, you do now, don't you?"
"No, monsieur."
"Then you don't love me?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Would you prefer another to me?"
"I don't know, monsieur."
"Suppose you should be married to someone else, would you be sorry?"
"I don't know, monsieur."
"Then, why do you marry me?"
"I don't know, monsieur."
I nearly lost my patience; the woman would surely drive me mad with her
gentleness. I began to be afraid that I had mistaken stupidity for
innocence and awkwardness for timidity! But her hand trembled; probably
she was afraid that she had angered me. I felt that I must control
myself and not frighten her; that was not the way to attract her and win
her confidence.
"Pélagie."
"Monsieur."
"My dear girl, when you are going to marry a man, you mustn't call him
_monsieur_."
"What shall I say, then?"
"Call me your _dear_; I hope always to be that."
"Yes, my dear."
"Has your aunt brought you up very strictly?"
"Yes, my dear."
"Don't you ever receive any young men at your house?"
"No, my dear."
"Do you like society?"
"Yes, my dear."
"When we are married, what would you like to do?"
"Whatever you like, my dear."
"Shall we remain here, or go to Paris to live?"
"Oh! I don't care. But----"
"Well! go on, don't be afraid to speak."
"I think I should like Paris better."
"In that case, I am delighted to agree with you."
And I kissed her hand, to manifest a little affection. She hastily
withdrew it.
"Pélagie, a promised husband may kiss his betrothed's hand as much as he
pleases."
"Really?"
"I give you my word."
Instantly she offered me both hands. Her docility was charming; it was
something, at all events.
"Pélagie, what has your aunt ever said to you about me?"
"She told me I might listen to you."
"And then?"
"That you had asked for my hand, and she had given it to you."
"So she didn't consult you beforehand?"
"No, my dear. What for?"
"Why, to know if you liked me."
"Oh! it wasn't worth while."
"But it seems to me that if----"
"I am too well bred not to obey my aunt."
"But if I had been old, ugly, and gouty?"
"That wouldn't have made any difference."
"You would have married me just the same?"
"Of course, if my aunt had said so."
"Why, then you have no inclination for me?"
"What is an inclination?"
"What! has your aunt never told you that you must love your husband?"
"Oh, yes!"
"And be faithful to him?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Do whatever he wishes?"
"Oh, yes!"
"And never listen to other men?"
"Oh, yes!"
I could stand it no longer; I leaped from my chair. Pélagie, terribly
frightened, rose also and looked at me. I paced the floor with long
strides. But she came toward me.
"Have you hurt yourself?" she asked, opening her eyes to their fullest
extent. I could not help smiling at her question. I put my arms around
her and embraced her with considerable warmth; I was determined to try
to animate her at any cost. At first she tried to release herself; but I
told her that a future husband had the right to hold his intended in his
arms.
"Oh! that makes a difference," she said; and she ceased to resist.
"He may kiss you, too," I said; and I proceeded to kiss her repeatedly,
on her cheeks and her lips. She made no objection.--See how dangerous
ignorance often is! there was an innocent with whom a man might do
whatever he chose by means of false arguments.
But as I heard my sister I released Pélagie, who allowed herself to be
kissed with charming docility. Indeed, I fancied that she was beginning
to show some animation.
"Come," said my sister, as she entered the room, "it's time to go back
to your aunt, my dear Pélagie; she might not like it if you should stay
away any longer. You have had plenty of time to talk, and you will have
still more when you're married. Take your shawl and let us go."
Pélagie took her shawl without a word, and prepared to go with my
sister. I bade her adieu, whereupon she gave me a decidedly tender
glance. I believed that my kisses had produced some effect on her heart,
and that belief made me a little more hopeful of the future.
I realized now that my bride had no intelligence; perhaps I might have
gone further; but I must needs make the best of it. I did not think
that, in order to be happy, one must have a genius for a wife; bright
women are generally very tiresome in their homes, and she who devotes
her time to displaying the gifts she has received from nature very
rarely thinks of taking care of her children and gratifying her husband.
As soon as a woman believes herself to be more intelligent than her
husband, she refuses to be governed by him. Moreover, I had had many
liaisons with clever women, and the result had not been flattering to
me. Agathe, Caroline, and Madame de Marsan were all bright. And Nicette?
she was, too; and yet---- Well, it was very fortunate that my betrothed
was not. I was well aware that there was a great distance between a
genius and a blockhead, and that if pretentiousness is irksome,
stupidity is even more so. But I hoped that marriage, which works so
many metamorphoses, would succeed in forming Pélagie's judgment. I had
already fancied that I could see that my caresses had stirred her
pulses. There is a time when nature seems benumbed; at such a time a
crisis is necessary. Perhaps Pélagie's heart and mind only needed that
crisis to develop rapidly.