Henry Bordeaux

“ Elizabeth, more refined and sensitive, had become very susceptible, irritable, and overemphasized the little things, or again settled into her former apathy. She knew the rebellion which crushes us as we battle in vain against the indifference of fate, and the despair which plunges our souls into the depths. In those hours, she wished she might hear of Albert's death to put an end to the suffering which her jealousy brought. With delicate tact, but without words or allusions, Mme. Derize healed her wounds, as do those nurses in a sick-room, who work silently, but are never idle. ”

“ Bonnard-Basson promptly, to emphasize that she had nothing to hide.
"But what?"
"Well, your husband changed from separation to divorce in order to marry the corespondent. You cut the grass from under his feet by giving up your case."
"I had never thought of that."
And Elizabeth, indignant, asked herself by what right they penetrated so impertinently into the sorrows and doubts of her soul. And she let them know it, not without firmness. Mme. de Vimelle took it upon herself to reply:
"Heavens, Madame, a divorce is like a book or a crime—it belongs to the public." ”

“ Daughterly modesty prevented Elizabeth, who remembered her bitterness at Uriage, from questioning her mother, and she asked herself how long must she have lived with this terrible secret. What strangers we are to one another! How little we can know of the deepest anguish of beings who are dearest to us, and how difficult it is to see and to understand! To perform a duty is easier than to know it, and no one directs or perfects in himself this delicate and complex art of knowledge. Mme. Molay-Norrois was the first to feel the necessity of an explanation. ”

“ Elizabeth offered him her hand, and with a trembling voice, said:
"I also wished to tell you, Monsieur, that I have forgotten your last words at Uriage. Give me your hand. You had misjudged me; it was my fault. A woman alone has to be so careful. Remain Albert's friend, and be a little friendly to me, will you? We shall meet seldom. I only remember the truths I heard from you one day, which have made me understand one's own contribution to one's unhappiness.—"
Philippe, bending down, kissed the fingers which she gently drew away. ”

“ But Elizabeth is already bored. I cannot accuse her either of coquetry or of silly admiration for fashion, or extreme desire for pleasure. Only she must constantly be amused by trifles, and this restlessness is unbearable to me. I try in vain to interest her in reading, in music, in the variation of light that is accentuated by the approach of Autumn—even in my work. She listens graciously, and is thinking of something else. She is not lacking in intelligence, but she does not care to use it. She needs boundaries that can be touched. ”

“ Her fiancé had then admired that tranquillity which contained the germ of their separation. How should she have expected to be deceived before understanding the care we must take of our happiness? Why had no one aroused her,—then, while there was still time—from that apathy which makes us sink into the beaten path, and does not allow us to reach the height from which we see the light and a broad vision? She would at least know how to save her children from her short-comings. They would not need despair to open their eyes to the sorrows of life. ”

“ Ah, man, whatever he may do, is always surpassed in this, and if he wishes to be favorably judged, he must invoke the continuance of his efforts to create a lasting work, an enduring structure: passion never fills his life completely, forever.
The minutes passed. How should he welcome Elizabeth? He could only take her in his arms and give back to her confidence and the peace of her heart. And he would even hide his wound from her. Anne, far away—Anne, lost to him—Anne idealized by her flight, would remain in his life like one of those mysterious divinities to whom one offers occult homage. ”

“ She even forgave Philippe Lagier his impertinent confession, for the sake of the warning he had given her at Grenoble, which now came back to her memory like a realized prediction.
"To love, if one sincerely loves you," he had said—"if one spares you every difficulty, every effort, is not to one's credit. To love when you are deserted, betrayed, forgotten, when your heart is trampled upon,—that is love." ”

“ This separation had slowly undermined and weakened her. She exhausted herself in prayer, and in her faith in the expediency of sacrifice, as of a burnt offering to obtain from God the return of him, whom she called in secret her prodigal son. With what haste she had gone to Saint Martin, after her son's last visit, to cheer up Elizabeth's languishing hopes. On the way she had faced the fatigue which weakened her limbs, often stopping to take breath, sustained by the idea that she was bringing a little comfort to the deserted woman. For a moment she believed that Albert had gone before her. ”

“ With the exception of Philippe Lagier, who was often away, he saw no one but Elizabeth. In this charm of intimacy which so few men can resist, he confided to her his entire projects, the plans of his work. One day he brought along the manuscript of a "Popular Life of Pasteur" which he was finishing for his collection of biographies. He read it aloud, and when he had finished, humbly seeking praise, she gave him the highest: that of a deep emotion, which she felt, even to the degree of silence in listening to the story of the scientific career, so honorable and so full of enthusiasm. ”

“ Elizabeth looked at her mother as if to beg for her advice. Her smooth forehead was lined with a little vertical wrinkle between the eyebrows. Her entire face, her body, was tense with an effort of abnormal will, entirely out of keeping with the pretty childishness of the face and the accustomed carelessness of her movements. She did not wait for Mme. Molay-Norrois to give her advice.
"It is quite decided," she said. "I refuse. I will not lie. I will tell the whole truth: so much the worse for those whom it strikes." ”

“ Never, never would she, so unprepared, educated and trained as she was for a very ordinary lot, be able to adapt herself to the life before her.
"The cup of ... happiness ..." stammered Marie Louise in her dreams.
The cup of happiness! What irony this evening! Was it not too unjust that she should be thus punished for no reason; in the fullness of her youth be overwhelmed with so many burdens and have so little help! In her despair she detested Albert, who had deserted her in such cowardly manner. ”

“ What dignity she preserved in this humiliation which she so little deserved, and which must have cost her so much. Albert had not been entirely able to lose her from his memory except in the first months of his infidelity, and since he had seen her again in circumstances in which one's sensibility becomes more deeply impregnated with impressions, the refined and purified charm which he had found in her recurred to him too often in comparison with Anne. But a man's heart has so many complicated recesses: free, he puts from him furiously the solution he ardently wished when he was not free. ”

“ I was too much in fear of your indifference and my own recollections. Then Summer separated us, and I wished to free myself from the emotion which was constantly deepening and which threatened to absorb me. But you came back in the Autumn. It is a season so restless, so transitory, that each day seems to be filled with importance. It is then that one's soul is full of anguish, at the same time declining and expectant. One feels as if dying slowly, with the hope of being reborn. As for me, I have never been able to be happy in Autumn ”

“ How can a woman so blindly accept the deepest of all separations, the moral separation? After more than seven years of marriage, I am still amazed at it. She lacks curiosity as she does distrust. The daily round satisfies her. Just now I was studying her under the lamplight. She is scarcely thirty, and her expressionless face reveals no doubt of the heart, no personal thought. She can see in me neither a new joy, nor despair. ”

“ His anger spent itself.
"Marie Louise is right. Nobody ever wished to give more happiness than I, and I spread suffering everywhere. It is a fatality. At least I am not happy. What shall I do? How should I know it? Elizabeth, it would be better that you should leave me, forget me, start your life anew."
She pushed the children towards him, but they obeyed her unwillingly. This confession of weakness was touching on the part of a man who had always extolled the importance of will power, the spirit of continuity and energy in both general and individual life. ”

“ What we need is a little philosophy and a few concessions; to offset our curiosity and greed by the cultivation of some of those harmless tastes which broaden our horizon without harming other people; that is to say: art, reading, travel, good food, conversation, even dissipation, or rather a little prodigality, a daily task, children to bring up! That will satisfy the most unreasonable or the most ambitious. As to passion, it is certainly detestable. It moves about in our civilized land like a blind man in a drawing-room full of knick-knacks, and it should be put out of the house. ”

“ And as if she were following for herself alone the thread of her own reflections:—
"That will bring them together, perhaps."
"What will, Mother?" asked Elizabeth. Mme. Derize looked at her, as if she had come back from afar, and said smilingly:
"Oh, nothing, my dear girl. One sometimes has strange ideas ..."
The life of these two women at Saint-Martin d'Uriage was quite simple and monotonous. The care of the children, some reading, walks, and a little music or long conversations in the evening filled their days, which began and ended early. ”

“ In these September days whose changing freshness is at the same time an indication of decline, I feel I am unfaithful to her, in forgetting her for the gentle fall of the first leaves, which drop off without apparent reason for the distressing peace of the evening. Unless it be that without my knowledge she is giving a new interest to these impressions! Our love is growing, so that it forms a part of all our thoughts which scatter to the four winds, and is influenced by nature, which, by ceaseless activity, awakens our emotions and then focusses all our power of feeling. ”