liquors and some plates of cakes and sweetmeats, placed them all upon
a small table and sat down beside me in a narrow chair, so that I was
obliged to put my arm behind her to avoid being too crowded. As both
her hands were free, while I could use only my left, she filled my
glass with her own hands and placed fruit and sugar-plums on my plate;
seeing that I was helping myself rather awkwardly, she said: "Oh!
don't try to do it; I'll feed you, you child, as you don't know how to
feed yourself." And she put the pieces in my mouth and compelled me
to swallow them faster than I wanted to do, pushing them in with her
pretty fingers, just as they do to chickens when they are fattening
them--which made her laugh heartily.--I could hardly avoid returning
upon her fingers the kiss she had just now bestowed upon the palm of
my hand, and, as if to prevent me, but really to give me a more solid
support for my kiss, she struck my mouth two or three times with the
back of her hand.
She had drunk two or three fingers of Crême des Barbades and a glass of
Canary, and I almost as much. That assuredly was not a great quantity;
but it was enough to enliven two women who were accustomed to drink
nothing but water barely colored with wine.--Rosette threw herself
back and pressed against my arm very amorously.--She had thrown aside
her mantle, and I could see the beginning of her breast, which was
distended and thrown forward by that position; the tone of the flesh
was ravishingly delicate and transparent; the shape marvellously
graceful and solid at the same time. I gazed at her for some time with
indefinable emotion and pleasure, and the thought came to my mind that
men are more favored than we in their passions, that we give the most
priceless treasures into their possession and that they have nothing
similar to offer us.--What a delight it must be to run one's lips over
that fine, smooth skin, those swelling contours which seem to go out
to meet the kiss and provoke it! that satiny flesh, those waving lines
which melt into one another, the silky hair that is so soft to the
touch; what inexhaustible stores of delicious pleasure that we have
not with men!--Our caresses can be only-passive, and yet there is more
pleasure in giving than in receiving.
These remarks I certainly should not have made last year, and I could
have looked at all the bosoms and shoulders in the world without
worrying as to whether they were well or ill shaped; but since I have
laid aside the garments of my sex and have lived among young men,
a sentiment has developed in me that was entirely unfamiliar to me
before:--the sentiment of beauty. Women are usually devoid of that
sentiment, I don't quite see why, for they would seem at first glance
better fitted to judge beauty than men;--but as they are the ones who
possess beauty, and as knowledge of one's self is the most difficult
knowledge to acquire, it is not surprising that they know nothing about
it.--Ordinarily, if one woman considers another woman pretty, you can
be sure that the latter is hideously ugly, and that no man would look
twice at her.--On the other hand, all the women whose beauty and grace
are vaunted by men, are unanimously voted unsightly and affected by the
whole petticoated swarm; there is no end to the outcries and clamor.
If I were what I seem to be, I would take no other guide in making my
selection, and the disapprobation of the women would be a sufficient
certificate of beauty.
Now I know beauty and love it; the clothes I wear separate me from my
sex and take away anything like rivalry; I am in a better position to
judge than anybody else.--I am no longer a woman, but I am not yet
a man, and passion will not blind me so far as to take manikins for
idols; I look on coolly, without prejudice for or against, and my
position is as completely disinterested as possible.
The length and fineness of the eyelashes, the transparency of the
temples, the limpidity of the crystalline lens, the curves of the ear,
the color and quality of the hair, the aristocratic shape of the feet
and hands, the slenderness of the ankle and wrist, a thousand and one
things which I used not to notice and which constitute real beauty and
prove purity of breeding, guide me now in my judgments, and make it
almost impossible for me to go astray.--I think that one could accept
with eyes closed a woman of whom I had said: "Really, she is not bad."
By a natural consequence I am a much better judge of pictures than
formerly, and, although I have only a very superficial knowledge of
the masters, it would be difficult to pass off a poor work on me for
a good one; I find that this study possesses a strange and profound
fascination; for, like everything in the world, beauty, moral or
physical, requires to be studied and cannot be understood at once.
But let us return to Rosette; the transition from this subject to her
is not a difficult one; they are two ideas that attract each other.
As I said, the fair widow had thrown herself back against my arm and
her head rested against my shoulder; emotion tinged her cheeks with a
delicate pink flush, admirably heightened by a coquettish little black
patch; her teeth glistened through her smile like rain-drops in the
heart of a poppy, and her lashes, half-lowered, enhanced the moist
brilliancy of her great eyes;--a sunbeam caused a thousand metallic
gleams to play upon her silken, glossy hair, a few locks of which had
escaped from the comb and fell in natural curls along her plump, round
neck, showing off the warm whiteness of the skin; some tiny stray
hairs, more rebellious than the others, held aloof from the mass and
flew hither and thither in capricious spirals, gleaming like gold, and
taking on all the shades of the prism as the light passed through
them:--you would have said they were some of the golden threads that
surround the heads of virgins in the old pictures.--Neither of us spoke
and I amused myself by following the little sky-blue veins under the
transparent pearly skin of her temples, and the gradual, insensible
disappearance of the down at the extremity of her eyebrows.
She seemed to be absorbed in thought and to be cradled in dreams of
infinite pleasure; her arms hung beside her body, as soft and flexible
as loosened scarfs; her head fell back farther and farther, as if the
muscles that held it had been cut or were too weak to hold it longer.
She had drawn her little feet under her skirt, and had succeeded in
forcing herself well into my corner of the chair, so that, although it
was a very narrow affair, there was a considerable vacant space on the
other side.
Her supple, yielding body shaped itself to mine like wax and took
its whole exterior outline as exactly as possible:--water would not
have found its way more scrupulously into every irregularity in the
line.--Thus glued to my side, she produced the effect of the double
stroke that painters give to the shadow side of their picture in laying
on their color.--Only an amorous woman can manage such undulations and
entwining.--The ivies and willows are nowhere.
The gentle warmth of her body penetrated through her clothes and mine;
a thousand magnetic currents played about her; her whole life seemed to
have passed into me and to have abandoned her completely. From moment
to moment she languished and sank and yielded more and more: a slight
perspiration stood on her lustrous brow: her eyes were swimming in
moisture and two or three times she made a movement as if to put up her
hands to hide them; but her wearied arms stopped half-way and fell back
upon her knees, and she could not do it;--a great tear overflowed and
rolled down her burning cheek where it was soon dried.
My situation was becoming very embarrassing and decidedly
ridiculous;--I felt that I must seem tremendously stupid and that
feeling annoyed me to the last degree, although it was not in my power
to change my behavior.--Enterprising conduct on my part was out of
the question, and it was the only sort that would have been suited
to the occasion. I was too sure of meeting with no resistance, to
take the risk, and in truth I did not know which way to turn. To pay
compliments and make gallant speeches would have been very well in the
beginning, but nothing would have seemed more insipid at the point at
which we had arrived;--to rise and go out would have been unspeakably
rude; and, indeed, I am not sure that Rosette wouldn't have played
the part of Potiphar and held me by the corner of my cloak.--I should
have had no virtuous reason to give her for my resistance; and then,
I confess it to my shame, this scene, equivocal as it was in respect
to myself, did not lack a certain fascination to which I yielded more
than I should have done; that ardent passion warmed me with its flame
and I was really grieved at my inability to satisfy it; I even longed
to be a man, as I seemed to be, in order to crown Rosette's love, and
I deeply regretted her mistake. My respiration quickened, I felt a
flush rising to my cheeks, and I was hardly less agitated than my poor
lovelorn companion.--The idea of the identity of sex gradually faded
away, leaving behind only a vague idea of pleasure; a mist came before
my eyes, my lips trembled, and if Rosette had been a young man instead
of what she was, she would have gained an easy victory over me beyond
question.
At last, unable to endure it, she sprang suddenly to her feet with a
sort of spasmodic movement and began to walk hurriedly up and down the
room; then she stopped before the mirror and adjusted a few locks of
hair that were out of place. During that walk of hers I cut but a sorry
figure and I hardly knew what face to put upon the matter.
She paused in front of me and seemed to reflect.
She believed that inordinate bashfulness alone held me back, that I
was more of a school-boy than she had at first supposed.--Being quite
beside herself and stirred to the highest pitch of amorous excitement,
she determined to make a supreme effort and to stake all to win all, at
the risk of losing the game.
She came to me, seated herself on my knees with lightning-like
rapidity, threw her arms around my neck, clasped her hands behind my
head, and her mouth clung to mine in a fierce embrace; I felt her
breast, half-uncovered, throbbing against mine, and her interlaced
fingers moving convulsively in my hair. A shudder ran all over my body
and the nipples of my bosom stood erect.
Rosette's mouth did not leave mine; her lips enveloped my lips, her
teeth touched my teeth, our breaths mingled.--I recoiled for an
instant, and I turned my head away two or three times to avoid the
kiss; but an invincible attraction drew me forward again, and I
returned it almost as ardently as she had given it to me. I have no
very clear idea what would have been the end of it all, had it not
been for a tremendous barking out of doors followed by a sound as of
feet scratching. The door yielded and a beautiful white greyhound came
yelping and bounding into the cabin.
[Illustration: Chapter XII--_She came to me, seated herself on my knees
with lightning-like rapidity, threw her arms around my neck, clasped
her hands behind my head, and her mouth clung to mine in a fierce
embrace; I felt her breast, half-uncovered, throbbing against mine, and
her interlaced fingers moving convulsively in my hair._]
Rosette rose abruptly and rushed to the further end of the room: the
beautiful white hound leaped joyously around her and tried to reach her
hands to lick them; she was so confused that she could hardly arrange
her mantle over her shoulders.
The greyhound was her brother Alcibiades's favorite dog; he never left
him, and when you saw him you could be sure that his master was not far
away;--that was what caused poor Rosette's alarm.
Alcibiades did, in fact, appear a moment later, all booted and spurred,
with his whip in his hand:--"Ah! here you are," he said; "I have been
looking for you for an hour and I certainly shouldn't have found you if
my good old Snug hadn't driven you to earth in your hiding-place."
And he glanced at his sister with a half-serious, half-playful
expression that made her blush to the whites of her eyes.
"You apparently had some very knotty subjects to discuss to induce you
to seek this profound solitude?--you were talking about theology, I
suppose, and the twofold nature of the soul?"
"Oh! _Mon Dieu_, no; our minds were engrossed by subjects much less
sublime; we were eating cake and talking fashions--that's all."
"I don't believe a word of it; you looked to me as if you were buried
deep in some sentimental discussion;--but, to divert your minds from
your vaporish conversation, I think it would be a good idea for you
to take a turn on horseback with me.--I have a new mare I want to
try.--You shall ride her too, Théodore, and we'll see what we can make
of her."
We went out together, I on his arm and Rosette on mine; the expressions
on our faces were curiously different.--Alcibiades was pensive, I was
altogether content, and Rosette excessively annoyed.
Alcibiades had arrived most opportunely for me, most inopportunely for
Rosette, who thus lost, or thought that she lost, all the fruit of
her shrewd attacks and her ingenious tactics.--She had it all to do
over again;--a quarter of an hour later, deuce take me if I know what
might have been the conclusion of that incident--I can imagine no
possible outcome.--Perhaps it would have been better that Alcibiades
should not intervene just at the decisive moment like a _deux ex
machina_;--then the thing would have had to come to a climax in one
way or another.--Two or three times during that scene I was on the
point of telling Rosette who I was; but the fear of being taken for an
adventuress and of having my secret revealed retained upon my lips the
words that were already to take flight.
Such a condition of things could not last.--My departure was the
only method of cutting short that issue-less intrigue; and so, at
dinner, I formally announced that I must take my leave the very next
day.--Rosette, who was sitting beside me, almost fainted at the news,
and dropped her glass. A sudden pallor overspread her lovely face; she
bestowed upon me a grieved, reproachful glance which made my emotion
and trouble almost as great as her own.
The aunt raised her old wrinkled hands with a gesture of painful
surprise, and in her shrill, trembling voice, which wavered even more
than usual, she said: "Oh! my dear Monsieur Théodore, are you going
to leave us like this? That's not right; yesterday you did not show
the slightest disposition to go.--The postman has not arrived, so you
have received no letters and you have no reason to go. You gave us
another fortnight and now you take it back; really you have no right
to do it: a thing given cannot be taken back.--You see how Rosette
looks at you, and how displeased she is; I warn you that I shall be as
displeased as she, and that I will glare at you as fiercely, and the
glare of sixty-eight years is a little more terrible than the glare of
twenty-three. See to what you voluntarily expose yourself; to the wrath
of the aunt and the niece, and all this on account of some whim that
has suddenly taken possession of you between the fruit and the cheese."
Alcibiades, bringing his fist down on the table, swore that he would
barricade the doors of the chateau and hamstring my horse rather than
let me go.
Rosette gave me another glance, so sad and so supplicating, that one
must have been as ferocious as a tiger who has eaten nothing for eight
days not to have been touched by it.--I did not resist, and although I
was exceedingly loth to do it, I made a solemn promise to remain.--Dear
Rosette would gladly have leaped on my neck and kissed my mouth for my
complaisance; Alcibiades took my hand in his great hand and shook my
arm so violently that he almost tore it out at the shoulder, changed
the shape of my rings from round to oval and drove them deep into three
of my fingers.
The old lady in her joy took an immense pinch of snuff.
Rosette, however, did not completely recover her cheerfulness;--the
idea that I might go and that I was inclined to do so, an idea that
had not before presented itself clearly to her mind, threw her into
a profound reverie. The color that my announcement of my departure
had driven from her cheeks did not return with the same brilliancy
as before;--there was still some trace of pallor on her cheeks, and
of anxiety deep in her heart.--My conduct toward her surprised her
more and more.--After the marked advances she had made, she could not
understand my motives for showing so much restraint in my relations
with her: what she wanted was to bring me to a decisive engagement
before my departure, having no doubt that after that it would be
extremely easy to keep me as long as she chose.
Therein she was right, and, if I had not been a woman, her reckoning
would have been accurate; for, however satiated one may be with
pleasure and filled with the disgust that ordinarily follows
possession, every man who has a heart situated at all as it should be
and who is not wretchedly _blasé_ and beyond redemption, feels his love
increase with his good-fortune, and very often the best way to retain a
lover who is ready to take flight is to give one's self up to him with
entire _abandon._
Rosette designed to bring me to something decisive before my departure.
Knowing how difficult it is to take up a liaison later at the point
at which you left it, and, furthermore, being in no wise sure of ever
being thrown with me again under such favorable auspices, she would
neglect none of the opportunities that might present themselves to
place me in a position where I must declare myself in precise terms
and abandon the evasive manœuvres behind which I was in the habit of
entrenching myself. As I, for my part, had a very decided purpose to
avoid any such meeting as that in the rustic pavilion, and as I could
not, without making myself ridiculous, treat Rosette too coldly and
import a childish prudery into our relations, I did not know just how
to behave, and I tried to arrange it so that there would always be a
third person with us.--Rosette, on the contrary, did her utmost to be
left alone with me, and she succeeded very often, the chateau being at
some distance from the town and little frequented by the neighboring
nobility.--This sullen resistance saddened and surprised her;--at
times she was assailed by doubts and hesitation as to the power of her
charms, and, seeing that she made so little impression upon me, she
was sometimes not far from believing that she was ugly.--Thereupon she
redoubled her attentions and her coquetry, and although her mourning
did not permit her to resort to all the devices of the toilet, she knew
how to embellish it and vary it in such a way as to be every day two or
three times more charming than the day before--which is no small thing
to say.--She tried everything: she was playful, melancholy, tender,
passionate, gracious, coquettish, even affected; one after another
she put on all the fascinating masks that sit so well upon women that
we cannot say whether they are real masks or their real faces;--she
assumed successively eight or ten different, strongly-contrasted
individualities, to see which pleased me best and settle upon that. She
constituted a whole seraglio in herself alone, and I had only to throw
down the handkerchief; but, of course, nothing succeeded.
The failure of all these stratagems caused her to fall into a state
of profound stupefaction.--Indeed, she would have made old Nestor's
brain whirl and melted the ice in chaste Hippolytus himself,--and I
resembled no one less than Hippolytus or Nestor: I am young and I had a
haughty, resolute mien, was bold in speech and, everywhere except in a
tête-à-tête, very self-possessed.
She might well have thought that all the witches of Thrace and Thessaly
had cast their charms upon my body, or that, at all events, I had some
physical impediment, and so have formed a very contemptuous opinion of
my virility, which does not amount to much in truth. However, it seems
that that idea did not occur to her and that she attributed my strange
reserve solely to my lack of love for her.
The days passed and her affairs made no progress.--She was visibly
affected by that fact: an expression of anxious melancholy replaced
the bright smile that always played about her lips; the corners of
her mouth, once so joyously arched, drooped sensibly and formed a
straight, serious line; the small veins in her eyelids stood out more
clearly; her cheeks, formerly so like the peach, had retained nothing
of that appearance except the imperceptible velvety down. Often I saw
her from my window in the morning walking in the flower-garden in her
_peignoir_; she hardly lifted her feet, as if she were gliding rather
than walking, her arms folded across her breast, her head bent forward,
doubled over like a willow branch dragging in the water, and with a
swaying, uncertain motion like a drapery that is too long and touches
the floor.--At such moments she resembled one of the amorous maidens
of old, victims of the anger of Venus, upon whom the pitiless goddess
empties all the vials of her wrath:--thus I imagine Psyche must have
appeared when she lost Cupid.
On the days when she did not exert herself to overcome my coldness
and my hesitation her love appeared in a simple, primitive guise that
would have fascinated me; there was a silent, confiding unconstraint,
a chaste prodigality of caresses, an inexhaustible abundance and
plenitude of affection, all the treasures of a lovely nature displayed
without reserve. She had none of the petty meannesses that we see in
almost all women, even the most generously endowed; she sought no
disguise, but calmly allowed me to see the full extent of her passion.
Her self-esteem did not rebel for an instant at my failure to respond
to such persistent advances, for pride leaves the heart on the day that
love enters; and if ever any one was truly loved, I have been and by
Rosette.--She suffered, but without complaint and without bitterness,
and she attributed the ill-success of her endeavors to herself
alone.--Meanwhile her pallor was increasing every day, and the lilies
and roses had fought a pitched battle on the battlefield of her cheeks,
resulting in the definitive rout of the latter; that grieved me deeply,
but in all conscience I could do less to remedy it than any one.--The
more gently and affectionately I spoke to her, the more caressing my
manner was to her, the deeper in her heart I buried the barbed arrow of
impossible love.--To console her to-day, I exposed her to much greater
sorrow in the future; my remedies poisoned her wound while seeming to
allay the pain.--I was sorry in a certain sense for all the pleasant
things I had succeeded in saying to her, and I would have been glad,
on account of my very warm friendship for her, to find a way to make
her hate me. Unselfishness can go no farther than that, for I most
certainly should have been sorry;--but it would have been better so.
I tried two or three times to say something harsh to her, but I
very soon returned to incense, for I dread her smile less than her
tears.--On such occasions, although the purity of my purpose absolves
me fully in my conscience, I am more touched than I ought to be, and
I feel something which is not far from being remorse.--A tear can
hardly be dried except by a kiss, and one cannot decently leave that
duty to a handkerchief, though it be of the finest lawn imaginable;--I
simply undo what I have done, the tear is very soon forgotten, much
sooner than the kiss, and the result so far as I am concerned is always
increased embarrassment.
Rosette, who sees that I am going to escape her, clings obstinately and
wretchedly to the remains of her hope, and my position becomes more
and more complicated.--The strange sensation that I felt in the little
hermitage, and the inconceivable excitement into which I was thrown
by the ardor of my beautiful lover, have been repeated several times,
although in a less violent form; and often, as I sit beside Rosette,
with her hand in mine, listening to her as she talks to me in her soft,
cooing voice, I imagine that I am a man as she believes, and that my
failure to respond to her love is pure cruelty on my part.