My Darling,--Here I am ready to make my bow to the world. By way of
preparation I have been trying to commit all the follies I could think
of before sobering down for my entry. This morning, I have seen myself,
after many rehearsals, well and duly equipped--stays, shoes, curls,
dress, ornaments,--all in order. Following the example of duelists
before a meeting, I tried my arms in the privacy of my chamber. I wanted
to see how I would look, and had no difficulty in discovering a certain
air of victory and triumph, bound to carry all before it. I mustered all
my forces, in accordance with that splendid maxim of antiquity,
"Know thyself!" and boundless was my delight in thus making my own
acquaintance. Griffith was the sole spectator of this doll's play,
in which I was at once doll and child. You think you know me? You are
hugely mistaken.
Here is a portrait, then, Renee, of your sister, formerly disguised as a
Carmelite, now brought to life again as a frivolous society girl. She is
one of the greatest beauties in France--Provence, of course, excepted.
I don't see that I can give a more accurate summary of this interesting
topic.
True, I have my weak points; but were I a man, I should adore them. They
arise from what is most promising in me. When you have spent a fortnight
admiring the exquisite curves of your mother's arms, and that mother the
Duchesse de Chaulieu, it is impossible, my dear, not to deplore your own
angular elbows. Yet there is consolation in observing the fineness of
the wrist, and a certain grace of line in those hollows, which will yet
fill out and show plump, round, and well modeled, under the satiny skin.
The somewhat crude outline of the arms is seen again in the shoulders.
Strictly speaking, indeed, I have no shoulders, but only two bony
blades, standing out in harsh relief. My figure also lacks pliancy;
there is a stiffness about the side lines.
Poof! There's the worst out. But then the contours are bold and
delicate, the bright, pure flame of health bites into the vigorous
lines, a flood of life and of blue blood pulses under the transparent
skin, and the fairest daughter of Eve would seem a Negress beside me! I
have the foot of a gazelle! My joints are finely turned, my features
of a Greek correctness. It is true, madame, that the flesh tints do not
melt into each other; but, at least, they stand out clear and bright. In
short, I am a very pretty green fruit, with all the charm of unripeness.
I see a great likeness to the face in my aunt's old missal, which rises
out of a violet lily.
There is no silly weakness in the blue of my insolent eyes; the white
is pure mother-of-pearl, prettily marked with tiny veins, and the thick,
long lashes fall like a silken fringe. My forehead sparkles, and the
hair grows deliciously; it ripples into waves of pale gold, growing
browner towards the centre, whence escape little rebel locks, which
alone would tell that my fairness is not of the insipid and hysterical
type. I am a tropical blonde, with plenty of blood in my veins, a
blonde more apt to strike than to turn the cheek. What do you think the
hairdresser proposed? He wanted, if you please, to smooth my hair into
two bands, and place over my forehead a pearl, kept in place by a gold
chain! He said it would recall the Middle Ages.
I told him I was not aged enough to have reached the middle, or to need
an ornament to freshen me up!
The nose is slender, and the well-cut nostrils are separated by a
sweet little pink partition--an imperious, mocking nose, with a tip
too sensitive ever to grow fat or red. Sweetheart, if this won't find
a husband for a dowerless maiden, I'm a donkey. The ears are daintily
curled, a pearl hanging from either lobe would show yellow. The neck
is long, and has an undulating motion full of dignity. In the shade the
white ripens to a golden tinge. Perhaps the mouth is a little large. But
how expressive! what a color on the lips! how prettily the teeth laugh!
Then, dear, there is a harmony running through all. What a gait! what
a voice! We have not forgotten how our grandmother's skirts fell into
place without a touch. In a word, I am lovely and charming. When the
mood comes, I can laugh one of our good old laughs, and no one will
think the less of me; the dimples, impressed by Comedy's light fingers
on my fair cheeks, will command respect. Or I can let my eyes fall
and my heart freeze under my snowy brows. I can pose as a Madonna with
melancholy, swan-like neck, and the painters' virgins will be nowhere;
my place in heaven would be far above them. A man would be forced to
chant when he spoke to me.
So, you see, my panoply is complete, and I can run the whole gamut of
coquetry from deepest bass to shrillest treble. It is a huge advantage
not to be all of one piece. Now, my mother is neither playful nor
virginal. Her only attitude is an imposing one; when she ceases to be
majestic, she is ferocious. It is difficult for her to heal the wounds
she makes, whereas I can wound and heal together. We are absolutely
unlike, and therefore there could not possibly be rivalry between us,
unless indeed we quarreled over the greater or less perfection of our
extremities, which are similar. I take after my father, who is shrewd
and subtle. I have the manner of my grandmother and her charming voice,
which becomes falsetto when forced, but is a sweet-toned chest voice at
the ordinary pitch of a quiet talk.
I feel as if I had left the convent to-day for the first time. For
society I do not yet exist; I am unknown to it. What a ravishing moment!
I still belong only to myself, like a flower just blown, unseen yet of
mortal eye.
In spite of this, my sweet, as I paced the drawing-room during my
self-inspection, and saw the poor cast-off school-clothes, a queer
feeling came over me. Regret for the past, anxiety about the future,
fear of society, a long farewell to the pale daisies which we used to
pick and strip of their petals in light-hearted innocence, there was
something of all that; but strange, fantastic visions also rose, which I
crushed back into the inner depths, whence they had sprung, and whither
I dared not follow them.
My Renee, I have a regular trousseau! It is all beautifully laid away
and perfumed in the cedar-wood drawers with lacquered front of my
charming dressing-table. There are ribbons, shoes, gloves, all in lavish
abundance. My father has kindly presented me with the pretty gewgaws a
girl loves--a dressing-case, toilet service, scent-box, fan, sunshade,
prayer-book, gold chain, cashmere shawl. He has also promised to give
me riding lessons. And I can dance! To-morrow, yes, to-morrow evening, I
come out!
My dress is white muslin, and on my head I wear a garland of white
roses in Greek style. I shall put on my Madonna face; I mean to play the
simpleton, and have all the women on my side. My mother is miles away
from any idea of what I write to you. She believes me quite destitute of
mind, and would be dumfounded if she read my letter. My brother honors
me with a profound contempt, and is uniformly and politely indifferent.
He is a handsome young fellow, but melancholy, and given to moods. I
have divined his secret, though neither the Duke nor Duchess has an
inkling of it. In spite of his youth and his title, he is jealous of his
father. He has no position in the State, no post at Court, he never has
to say, "I am going to the Chamber." I alone in the house have sixteen
hours for meditation. My father is absorbed in public business and his
own amusements; my mother, too, is never at leisure; no member of the
household practises self-examination, they are constantly in company,
and have hardly time to live.
I should immensely like to know what is the potent charm wielded by
society to keep people prisoner from nine every evening till two or
three in the morning, and force them to be so lavish alike of strength
and money. When I longed for it, I had no idea of the separations it
brought about, or its overmastering spell. But, then, I forget, it is
Paris which does it all.
It is possible, it seems, for members of one family to live side by side
and know absolutely nothing of each other. A half-fledged nun arrives,
and in a couple of weeks has grasped domestic details, of which the
master diplomatist at the head of the house is quite ignorant. Or
perhaps he _does_ see, and shuts his eyes deliberately, as part of the
father's _role_. There is a mystery here which I must plumb.