Laurent

“ That with which one is sated is as if it had never been. And then there is the pleasure of changing, and therein, perhaps, lies the whole secret of life. To change is to renew one's self; to be able to change is to be free. Is the artist born to be a slave, and is it not slavery to remain faithful, or simply to pledge one's faith?"
Laurent allowed himself to be persuaded by these old sophistries, always new to minds that are adrift. He soon felt that he must express them to some one, and that some one was Thérèse. So much the worse for her, since Laurent saw no one else. ”

“ A narrow window in the tower showed the cream face of Clotilde. So Laurent was held like a bent frog and castigated. His face, if any one could have seen it, betrayed a rueful smile.
The squire dealt out the flogging common to pages, and then, doubtful whether he ought to do more or to have done so much, let his hazel fall. Laurent arose, red in the face and sore elsewhere, The pages were jocose. Laurent bowed to them and placidly made his way toward the bower again. None hindered him. He was too much the enigma. Only the castigating squire followed close, in case of accident. ”

“ Thérèse could but accept this effusion as serious, for Laurent was perfectly honest. To hold him off with distrust would have been equivalent to an avowal of the too warm affection which she had for him; a woman who shows fear is already vanquished. ”

“ And Laurent, studying him, saw a blue-eyed man in the fifties, of no great height, with a fine, almost leonine head from whose brow the silvering fair hair was receding, and a slightly prominent underlip—a man who gave the impression of exceptional humour and vitality allied to a rare imperturbability. ”

“ Laurent was very sincere. When he lied, he was the first person deceived. He deemed himself strong enough to face that delicate situation, and it was his straightforward, generous purpose to restore Palmer's former confidence. Unluckily, when the human mind, borne onward by vigorous aspirations, has climbed certain lofty summits, if it is attacked with vertigo, it does not descend gradually, but plunges recklessly down. ”

“ And yet God still dwelt in those rebellious, tormented souls, for Laurent became enthusiastic and kindly once more at certain hours, and the pure well-spring of sacred inspiration was not dried up; his talent was not exhausted, perhaps he still had a glorious future before him. Should such a man be abandoned to the assaults of delirium or to the stupor of fatigue?
Thérèse, we say, had skirted that abyss too often not to have been made giddy by it more than once. Her own talent as well as her own character had well-nigh become involved, without her knowledge, in that desperate path. ”

“ From certain people, even the most trivial attentions have an extraordinary value. There was in Laurent's manners, and even in his attitudes, a certain stiffness which he never laid aside, even with society women. He offered them attentions with the ceremonious coldness of the most rigid etiquette. With Thérèse, who did the honors of her little home like the excellent woman and good-humored artist that she was, he had always been cared for and coddled without having to reciprocate. ”

“ Each time Laurent fancied he recognised Camille, he felt a burning sensation in the heart. He ardently desired to find the body of his victim, and he was seized with cowardice when he imagined it before him. His visits to the Morgue filled him with nightmare, with shudders that set him panting for breath. But he shook off his fear, taxing himself with being childish, when he wished to be strong. Still, in spite of himself, his frame revolted, disgust and terror gained possession of his being, as soon as ever he found himself in the dampness, and unsavoury odour of the hall. ”

“ Laurent had only obtained a momentary glimpse of this object, and his curiosity had not been gratified by another; but he had now the prospect of being able to study at leisure the appearance of this strangely made acquaintance, and he proceeded to do so.
He had the clear pallor and fine skin which often go with hair of warm colouring, and his, as it dried, was gradually resuming its proper shade, the deepest tone of September bracken. Even his eyes, which at a distance looked dark, were seen at closer quarters to be of a deep red-brown. ”

“ Already the towers were alive with steel, and the pied blue-green livery of Laurent's name. In the great courtyard was mustered a mailed host of men-at-arms, enough to whirl all the force of her father away down wind, and each moment a new troop came clattering from the stables. Her cheeks paled, her lips parted.
“And now, child?” said Laurent, looking at her curiously.
“Why, now, who would have me must fight for me!” she cried, with sparkling eyes.
Laurent came a step nearer. “Pardi; not one life shall be spilt for our caprice,” he said. ”

“ He answered with meaningless words, but with so sombre an expression and so marked an accent of irritation, that she was afraid of him, and consequently of the future.
Some lives are pursued by an implacable destiny. While Thérèse and Palmer were returning to France by Mont Cenis, Laurent was returning thither by Geneva. He reached Paris some hours in advance of them, his mind engrossed by a painful anxiety. ”

“ As soon as Laurent had the gold in his pocket, he began to lead a riotous life, drinking to excess, and frequenting women of ill-repute. He slept all day and stayed out all night, in search of violent emotions that would relieve him of reality. ”

“ You pretended you were irritated at the slightest thing he said, that he could not open his mouth without letting out some stupidity.”
“Don’t jeer,” said Thérèse. “It only remains for you to insult the man you murdered. You know nothing about the feelings of a woman, Laurent; Camille loved me and I loved him.”
“You loved him! Ah! Really what a capital idea,” exclaimed Laurent. “And no doubt it was because you loved your husband, that you took me as a sweetheart. ”

“ Laurent, whether a true portrait or not, is only too true to nature; excessive in his admirable powers and in his despicable weakness. Therèse is an equally faithful picture of a woman not quite up to the level of her own principles, which are so high that any lapse from them on her part brings down more disasters on herself and on others than the misdemeanours of avowedly unscrupulous persons.
Within a few months of Elle et Lui had appeared L'Homme de Neige, a work of a totally different but equally characteristic cast. ”

“ Laurent let his hand stay in the unconscious clasp, and it was because it was there that he found the hot words of protest forming on his lips, though they went unuttered—Why did you do it? It is killing you, L'Oiseleur. You are of too fine stuff to stand the strain, the obloquy, the contempt of the contemptible!
The drugged sleep, however seemed to be breaking, for Laurent had not long sat so, his hand a prisoner, when Aymar began to stir. ”

“ He was staring in front of him with eyes like live coals, his breath coming very fast; and in a moment Laurent realized that, as well as being physically spent, he was quivering with rage.
"You must take this, Aymar," he repeated.
The eyes blazed at him then. "You are becoming a veritable old woman, de Courtomer! There are times when one would really prefer to be allowed to lie down and perish in peace." After which ungracious remark he took the brandy from the slightly stunned Laurent, drank it off impatiently, and, pulling himself completely on to the bed, subsided there. ”

“ At night, when they found themselves face to face, placid in appearance and like strangers to one another, storms of passion and dismay passed beneath the calm flesh of their countenance. And while with Thérèse, there were outbursts of fury, base ideas, and cruel jeers, with Laurent there were sombre brutalities, and poignant indecisions. Neither dared search to the bottom of their beings, to the bottom of that cloudy fever that filled their brains with a sort of thick and acrid vapour. ”

“ One day, when the unfortunate Laurent was digging a trench alone, and the sweat was running in streams from his brow, and his limbs were aching with fatigue, he lamented his hard lot, and, clutching his hair, cried out:
“Yes, I would, I’d give myself to the Devil for a mere nothing.”
“Here I am, at your service,” said Satan, who was immediately at hand.
“No, no, by no means, thank you,” said Laurent, “I prefer working alone.”
“Well, but I’ll work for you, and without wages.”
“Oh, no! you never give anything for nothing,” said the peasant. ”

“ Highly pleased at this unwonted manifestation of interest, Laurent sat down by the window. Captivity had hardly yet had time to be irksome; he had been too much occupied. But, even if La Rocheterie's life no longer depended on his care, he had no visions of escape, though obviously the climb down from the unbarred window presented only one difficulty to a young and vigorous man—the sentry below. Laurent's heart, however, was chained for the present in this room, where he had acquired something personally more precious than what he had lost. ”

“ This exchange of terrified looks, this mute narration they were about to make to themselves of the murder, caused them keen and intolerable apprehension. The strain on their nerves threatened an attack, they might cry out, perhaps fight. Laurent, to drive away his recollections, violently tore himself from the ecstasy of horror that enthralled him in the gaze of Thérèse. ”

“ Laurent winced at the tone, and hurriedly said, "If you will permit me, Monsieur de la Rocheterie," he could bring out the name now, "I will take your pulse—M. Perrelet's orders."
A tiny frown appeared between the slender eyebrows, and Laurent felt instantly that he did not want one of his bandaged wrists exposed to the light of day—for both his hands were under the bedclothes. "Do not move your arm, pray," he remarked quickly. "I can get at your pulse quite well as you are." ”

“ Then, she did not see herself in a very good light, and lived in cruel indecision.
Laurent, on his side, passed through several different phases of love and fever. First of all he enjoyed profound tranquility; he seemed as if relieved of an enormous weight. At times he questioned himself with astonishment, fancying he had had a bad dream. He asked himself whether it was really true that he had flung Camille into the water, and had seen his corpse on the slab at the Morgue.
The recollection of his crime caused him strange surprise; never could he have imagined himself capable of murder. ”

“ At first the poor little Prince could not understand these expressions of sympathy and kindness. He had suffered so much and so deeply from the inhumanity of men, that his crushed sensibilities were slow in starting to life again.
“Why do you trouble yourself about me?” he asked one day, and when Laurent made some kindly answer, added, with a swelling heart, “I thought no one cared for me any more!” while he tried to hide his tears.
Simon had introduced the custom of addressing the Prince simply as “Capet”; Laurent changed this, and called him by his first name, “M. Charles.” ”

“ Laurent removed his gaze from the heavens.
"Thinking, for one thing," went on Aymar reflectively, "what a fool I was not to have told you all this earlier. It is always a mistake to be a coward, Laurent. ”

“ By-and-by Laurent set about his meal in a business-like fashion, and Paul strolled quietly from the room. The others, juge and garde and huissier and chemist, chief of gendarmerie, and all the rest of the regular frequenters of the table, were called away by their own avocations. Paul, sitting with his study-door ajar, looking as if prepared to be absorbed in labour at any moment, watched them as they went out by ones and twos, and knew that at last Laurent and Annette were together. The heat of summer noon was in the air. ”

“ In the imposing hall, with its great oriel window and vast hearth, he was delivered over to a tall major of the line of a lifeless and, as Laurent privately thought, stupid visage. The hussar made his report and handed over Laurent's papers. The officer was looking at them in a slow, undecided way, when a quick step was heard and he turned round and saluted a big, burly, hard-faced man in the green and yellow of the dragoons—a man with a choleric eye and close-cut grizzled side-whiskers coming to the level of the cheek-bone. To him Laurent was presented as a prisoner on parole just sent in. ”

“ Laurent snatched it up, and read these words, in marked contrast, even in the handwriting, to the composure of the rest:
"I doubt if I can face it, when the time comes, without you, Laurent!"
Two minutes later, gulping his coffee, he was thus addressing his hastily summoned valet: "I want my valise packed immediately—put my uniform in—and find out the Brittany diligences . . . and get hold of Mme la Comtesse's maid, and ask her how soon my mother can receive me. I am going away at once." ”

“ Around her, women were smoking cigarettes, men were embracing women in the open street, before the passers-by, who never even turned their heads. Low words and hoarse laughter reached Laurent, who remained motionless in a doorway on the opposite side of the street.
When Thérèse had finished her absinthe, she rose, and leaning on the arm of the fair young man, went down the Rue de la Harpe. Laurent followed them as far as the Rue Saint-André-des-Arts, where he noticed them enter a lodging-house. ”