Eugène Sue

“ What, another infamy? But what can I do? For I love her yet,—love her to madness! I love her and her only! I want but her,—her love, and not the lukewarm regard of a sister. Ah, at last she must have pity; she is so kind, and she will see how unhappy I am! But no, no! Never! Mine is a case of estrangement which a woman never can surmount. Disgust,—yes, disgust,—I cannot but see it,—disgust! I must convince myself that it is my horrid infirmity that frightens her, and always must,—always must!" exclaimed M. d'Harville, in his fearful excitement. ”

“ I say to you now, attack me, madame, if you dare, and your brother's memory will be dishonoured! But I believe you will have the good sense to resign yourself to a misfortune which, no doubt, is very severe, but to which I am an entire stranger.' 'But, sir, I am a mother! If my fortune is lost, my daughter and I have nothing left but a small stock of furniture; if that is sold, we have nothing left, sir,—nothing, but the most frightful destitution staring us in the face.' 'You have been cheated,—it is a misfortune, but I can do nothing in the matter,' answered the notary. ”

“ That is a happy change!" exclaimed Madame d'Harville. "Ah! I was sure that, when I appealed to your heart, to your reason, you would understand me; and now I have no doubt about the future."
"Nor I either, Clémence, I assure you. Yes, since my resolution last night, the future, which seemed so vague and sombre, is singularly brightened and simplified."
"Nothing can be more natural, my dear. Now we both go towards the same end, like a brother and sister, mutually dependent on each other; at the end of our career we shall find each other what we are to-day. The feeling will be unalterable. ”

“ Diamonds are like buildings,—they remain. And then, no doubt, the surprise will greatly please Madame la Marquise, without counting the pleasure that you yourself will experience. It is as I had the honour of saying the other day, there is not in the world any person whose existence can be more delightful than that of M. le Marquis."
"My dear M. Doublet," said M. d'Harville, with a smile, "your congratulations are always so peculiarly apropos."
"That is their only merit, M. le Marquis; and they possess that merit, perhaps, because they proceed from the heart. I will run to the jeweller." ”

“ Right reckonings make good friends,—but that's by the by. To lend in two hours a hundred thousand francs to a friend who requires that sum is what I call pretty, but rare. Is it not prodigal, you who are a connoisseur in loans?" said the duke, laughingly, to Saint-Remy, little thinking of the cutting purport of his words.
In spite of his effrontery, the viscount blushed slightly, and then replied, with composure:
"A hundred thousand francs?—that is immense! What could a woman ever want with such a sum as a hundred thousand francs? As for us men, that is quite a different matter." ”

“ And yet, in the name of their dignity, as honest men, long and painfully tried, have they not a right to claim the same care and comforts as criminals,—such, for instance, as Morel, the lapidary, who had toiled for twenty years, industrious, honest, and resigned, in the midst of bitter misery and sore temptations? Do not such men deserve sufficiently well of society, that society should try and find them out, and if not recompense them, for the honour of humanity, at least support them in the painful and difficult path which they tread so courageously? ”

“ It is night, and you must milk your heifers, prepare your supper under the shelter of the vine, for you hear your husband's dogs bark, and then their master's voice, who, tired as he is, comes home singing,—and who could not sing when on a fine summer's eve with cheerful heart you return to the house where a good wife and five children are waiting for you?—eh, Madame Martial?"
"True, true; one could not but sing," replied La Louve, becoming more and more thoughtful.
"Unless one weeps for joy," continued Fleur-de-Marie, herself much touched, "and such tears are as sweet as songs. ”

“ And Rigolette went out, saying:
"Madame Bouvard, take care of my husband, and do not flirt with him, mind, whilst I am gone."
And then came the laugh, and away the merry maiden ran.
"I must say, sir," said Mother Bouvard to Rodolph, "that you have a capital little manager there. Peste! she knows how to make a bargain! And then she is so prettily behaved and pretty-looking! red and white, with those large, beautiful black eyes, and such hair!"
"Is she not charming? and ain't I a happy husband, Madame Bouvard?"
"As happy a husband as she is a wife, I am sure of that." ”

“ But then she is so very industrious, Madame Martial.'"
"Really though, La Goualeuse, is it true? I should call myself Madame Martial," said La Louve, with a sort of pride,—"Madame Martial!"
"Which is better than being called La Louve,—is it not?"
"Pardieu! Why, there's no doubt but I should rather be called by my man's name than the name of a wild beast; but—bah!—bah! louve I was born, louve I shall die!"
"Who knows? Who can say? Not to shrink from a life that is hard, but honest, will ensure success. So, then, work would not frighten you?" ”

“ What romance could give me such deep feelings, excite my curiosity to such a pitch? This poor Goualeuse, for instance, has inspired me with deep pity, after all I have heard of her; and I will blindly follow up this commiseration, for the inspectress has too much experience to be deceived with respect to our protégée. And the other unhappy girl,—the artisan's daughter, whom the prince has so generously succoured in my name! Poor people! their bitter suffering has served as a pretext to save me. I have escaped shame, perhaps death, by a hypocritical falsehood. ”

“ Then, when I reflect that, not satisfied with sympathising with sufferings of which you can form no idea from actual experience, you aid me with the most salutary counsels, and guide me, step by step, in the new and delightful path of virtue and goodness pointed out by you to relieve a weary and worn-out heart, oh, my lord, what treasure of all that is good must your mind contain! From what source have you drawn so large a supply of tender pity for the woes of all? ”

“ D'Harville's vehemently exclaiming, "What a wretch am I!"
"Albert," said Clémence, gently, "for worlds would I not reproach you; yet is my promise of being unto you the most loving and affectionate of sisters unworthy any estimation? You will receive from the tender cares of devoted friendship more solid happiness than love could afford. Look forward to brighter days. Hitherto you have found me almost indifferent to your sorrows; you shall henceforward find me all zeal and solicitude to alleviate them, and eager to share with you every grief or cause of suffering, whether of body or of mind." ”

“ The more Clémence had proved herself, in her conversation with Rodolph, resigned, full of courage, and bent on acting rightly, the more bitterly did M. d'Harville reproach himself for having, in his culpable egotism, chained the lot of his unhappy young wife to his own. Far from being consoled by the conversation he had overheard, he fell into a train of sorrowful thought and indescribable anguish.
Riches, without occupation, bring with them this wretchedness. Nothing can divert it, nothing relieve it, from the deepest feelings of mental torture. ”

“ Seeing her so sadly resigned to a long life without love, passed with a man visited by an incurable and frightful malady, and utterly persuaded that, after her solemn conversation, Clémence could never subdue the repugnance with which he inspired her, M. d'Harville was seized with a profound pity for his wife, and an entire disgust for himself and for life.
In the exasperation of his anguish, he said to himself:
"I only love,—I never can love,—but one woman in the world, and she is my own wife. ”

“ In order to turn them away from the bad path, they are incessantly threatened with divine and human vengeance; incessantly a sinister clank is sounded in their ears: prison-keep, fetters, handcuffs; and, in the distance, in dark shadow, at the extreme horizon of crime, they have their attention directed to the executioner's axe glittering amidst the glare of everlasting flames. We observe that the intimidation is constant, fearful, and appalling. To him who does ill, imprisonment, infamy, punishment. This is just. But to him who does well does society award noble gifts, glorious distinctions? ”

“ Society merely says: There are gay young fellows abroad,—let the pretty girls beware! But if a poor wretch, through want or stupidity, constraint, or ignorance of the laws which he cannot read, buys knowingly a rag which has been stolen, he will be sent to the galleys for twenty years as a receiver, if such be the punishment for the theft itself. This is logical, powerful reasoning,—'Without receivers there would be no thieves, without thieves there would be no receivers.' No, no more pity, then—even less pity—for him who excites to the evil than he who perpetrates it. ”

“ The assassin kills you at a blow,—this villain tortures, prolongs your sufferings, and leaves you, after the death-blow has been inflicted, to sink under the gnawing agonies of want, misery, and despair. Nothing is safe from the cupidity of such a man as Ferrand: the inheritance of the orphan, the hard-earned savings of the laborious poor,—all excite alike his unprincipled avarice; and that which in other men arises out of the impulse of the moment is with this wretch the result of a cold and unrelenting calculation. ”

“ A man who contrives a surprise for his wife to the amount of forty-two thousand francs! Diable! we must not noise that abroad, or it would be a detestable precedent."
"Laugh on, gentlemen, as much as you please," said the marquis, gaily. "I love my wife, and am not ashamed to confess it; on the contrary, I boast of it."
"It is plain enough to be seen," said M. de Saint-Remy; "such a present speaks more eloquently than all the protestation in the world."
"I will take this necklace, then," said M. d'Harville, "if the setting of black enamel seems to you in good taste, Saint-Remy." ”

“ Go on! Continue still to utter such heavenly words!" exclaimed M. d'Harville, gazing in almost ecstasy on the countenance of his wife, and clasping his hands in fervid supplication. "Let me again hear you pronounce my pardon, and it will seem as though a new existence were opening upon me."
"Our destinies are inseparably united, and death only [Pg 172] can dissever us. Believe me, it shall for the future be my study to render life less painful to you than it has been."
"Merciful Heaven! Do I hear aright? Clémence, can it be you who have spoken these dear, these enchanting words?" ”

“ That proves that life has still some attraction for you; so courage! Courage!"
"It is, perhaps, weakness to think of it, but if I were handsome, as you say, madame, I should like to die handsome, pronouncing the name of my benefactor."
Madame d'Harville's eyes filled with tears. Fleur-de-Marie had said these last words with so much simplicity; her angelic, pale, depressed features, her melancholy smile, were all so much in accord with her words, that it was impossible to doubt the reality of her sad desire. ”

“ Usually these adventurous, energetic spirits, which do not recoil before any crime that will procure gold, are beset by turbulent passions—gaming, dissipation, gluttony, or other pleasures. Jacques Ferrand knew none of these violent and stormy desires; cunning and patient as a forger, cruel and resolute as an assassin, he was as sober and regular as Harpagon. One passion alone was active within him, and this we have seen too fatally exhibited in his early conduct to Louise. ”

“ And when, alas! one is weary of witnessing the many fearful pictures of fallen humanity an intercourse with the world compels us to behold, what joy to turn from the dark pictures of guilt and crime to refresh ourselves by the contemplation of a young and innocent mind, and to delight in watching the unfolding of all those pure and tender feelings so guilelessly true to nature! The proudest, the happiest mother feels not half the exquisite joy of a father in observing the gradual development of a daughter's character. ”

“ Louise understood it.
"I rob!" she exclaimed; and her cheeks suffused with generous indignation, her tone and gesture, reassured her father.
"I knew it well enough!" he exclaimed. "You see, M. le Commissaire, she denies it; and I swear to you, that she never told me a lie in her life; and everybody that knows her will say the same thing as I do. She lie! Oh, no, she is too proud to do that! And, then, the bill has been paid by our benefactor. ”

“ In truth, in proportion as Fleur-de-Marie spoke, La Louve had longed to be, and meant to be, an indefatigable manager, a worthy wife, an affectionate and devoted mother.
To inspire, even for an instant, a violent, immoral, and degraded woman with a love of home, respect for duty, a taste for labour, and gratitude towards her [Pg 276] Creator; and that, by only promising her what God gives to all, the sun, the sky, and the depths of the forest,—what society owes to those who lack a roof and a loaf,—was, indeed, a glorious triumph for Fleur-de-Marie! ”

“ Thus, saddened, discouraged, isolated from all affection, will he not be in a frame of mind such as will best suit my purpose of making him the dupe of a falsehood to which, by the notary's aid, I can give every impress of truth? And the notary will aid me, for I have frightened him. I shall easily find a young orphan girl, interesting and poor, who, taught her lesson by me, will fill the character of our child so bitterly mourned by Rodolph. ”

“ Fleur-de-Marie, though plunged young in an atmosphere of corruption, had subsequently breathed so pure an air that she experienced a deeply painful sensation at the horrid recital of La Louve. And if we have had the sad courage to make it, it has been because all the world should know that, hideous as it is, it is still a thousand times less revolting than other countless realities.
Ignorance and misery often conduct the lower classes to these fearful degradations, human and social. ”

“ Louise Morel, take leave of your father!"
"What! are you going to take my daughter away?" exclaimed the workman, furious with grief, and advancing towards the magistrate with a menacing air.
Rodolph seized the lapidary by the arm, and said to him:
"Be calm, and hope for the best; your daughter will be restored to you; her innocence must be proved; she cannot be guilty."
"Guilty of what? She is not guilty of anything. I will put my hand in the fire if—" Then, remembering the gold which Louise had brought to pay the bill with, Morel cried, "But the money—that money you had this morning, Louise!" ”