Luc

“ Turning presently, thinking that he heard some one approach, Luc caught sight of himself nearly full length in one of the oval mirrors. He saw a slight, pale young man, with a serene and delicate face, thoughtful hazel eyes, and a clear complexion, precise grey curls, and a plain suit of violet cloth trimmed with silver, a rich lace cravat tied very carefully, a simple sword, and a black ribbon round his throat.
The strange surroundings made his own person appear strange; he looked at himself as he might have looked at a mere acquaintance, critically, yet almost disinterestedly. ”

“ Luc stared without rising; his visionary mood had scarcely cleared. He gazed eagerly at his visitor in silence. He saw a man no longer young, yet impossible to associate with any idea of age, dressed richly and fashionably in brown velvet that glittered with gold braid, erect, graceful, and of an extraordinary appearance of animation and energy ”

“ Luc started, for the face of this being was so broken, tortured, disfigured (almost beyond likeness to humanity) by the most violent ravages of smallpox that it seemed more some kind of sad-beaten ape than a man.
The monotonous demand for money continued to issue from the bloodless lips; the half-blind eyes winked and peered at Luc with a stifled appeal. The Marquis pulled out his purse and gave the fellow a silver coin in silence, his delicate senses revolted beyond expression at the nearness of the wretched creature. ”

“ For Jean François Marmontel was the favourite of Paris, petted, caressed, extolled; the incarnation of success; one young, vigorous, and in the seat of glory; one physically what Luc had been before the Bohemia war, and from the worldly point of view in that position Luc had so yearned and longed for, so confidently hoped to attain. ”

“ Luc was disarmed; the languid young idler was transformed into the man who might indeed be the King of his imaginings—a man who was too great to be affronted, too noble to remember trivialities. Luc was aware of nothing in that moment but a passionate desire to serve the King—to instantly prove his loyalty ”

“ Luc rose also, and stood fronting his father, the table between them.
“And yet you propose to disgrace your blazon!”
“Better disgrace my blazon than my genius!” answered Luc. “I have been fettered all my life—now I have no more time to waste. I am going to answer at my tribunal, remember, Monseigneur, not at yours—and my judge is not pleased with the things that please Him who judges you.”
“You speak blasphemy!” thundered the Marquis. “This twice-damned atheist has poisoned you! There is but one God—beware of Him!” ”

“ Luc raised his hand and let it fall.
“Before I go, tell me why you wished to help me. I cannot understand why you should have any interest in one so different from your world.”
She buried her face in the cushions at the head of the sofa and did not answer.
The room seemed very silent and remote to Luc; the dusty motes in the sunbeams conveyed a sense of desolation; they seemed very far away from the world. The windows looked on the neglected garden, and there was not a sound from without. ”

“ Luc was not versed in the method of addressing the great; he wrote from his heart, urged on by the burning desire for action, for achievement, for fame.
When the letter had gone he went to the window and looked out on the steady rain and straight-fronted houses, lit with the glimmer of oil lamps, that hid Paris from his vision. ”

“ And these reflections were as a bitter blankness of soul to Luc, and the comfortable room would darken round him like the jaw of hell itself.
But with equal conviction would come the afterthought that these broken lives, these lost causes, these ridiculed endeavours, these failures, these minorities had handed on the light from one century to another, and kept alive truth, courage, and all that is beautiful in the heart of man. ”

“ Luc was always here, there, and everywhere, encouraging the men in the workshops, promoting brotherliness between one and all at the common-house, and watching over the management of the co-operative stores. He was constantly seen too in the sunlit avenues of the little town, amidst the women and the children, with whom he liked to laugh and play, as if he were the father of the young nation now springing up around him. Thanks to his genius and creative fruitfulness, things arose and grew methodically, as if in obedience to a wave of his hand. ”

“ Luc was near moved to laughter again, then to a great pity.
“You have youth and health, I know, Monsieur, and, I think, money and leisure—probably a great name and power. Am I right?”
“I have all those,” answered the other wearily. “But what have those things to do with content?”
“There are men,” smiled Luc, “who have neither money nor health nor power, only great ambitions—unsatisfied.”
“Ambitions!” The blue eyes widened.
“If you have power you can gratify your ambitions, doubtless, Monsieur,” remarked the Marquis dryly; “but you seem to me one who hath known nothing but ease.” ”

“ In the habitation of La Luc he met with the hospitality, the frankness, and the simplicity so characteristic of the country; in his venerable host he saw the strength of philosophy united with the finest tenderness of humanity—a philosophy which taught him to correct his feelings, not to annihilate them; in Clara, the bloom of beauty with the most perfect simplicity of heart; and in Adeline, all the charms of elegance and grace, with a genius deserving of the highest culture. In this family picture the goodness of Madame La Luc was not unperceived or forgotten. ”

“ There was some key somewhere that unlocked the door of Paris, of life—of that life which meant the scope to exercise, to strain the energies, to put the utmost into endeavour. Where was such a life?
For ten years Luc had been waiting—always round the corner was the promised goal—everything had been beautiful with the glamour of romance. But, looked at coldly, what had these ten years been but wasted? Luc was starting fresh on another road, and seemed as far as ever from the summit of his ambitions. ”

“ Luc marvelled at the sight of those three creatures of heroic build, that family in which he detected all the long overpowering labour of mankind on its onward march, all the pride begotten of painful effort incessantly renewed, all the ancient nobility that springs from deadly toil. ”

“ Luc felt the intense force of the stirrings in his own bosom to be a response to these prophets, martyrs, lonely standard-bearers who were calling him to be one of them, to come forth from the sheltered happiness of common men and join the shadowy multitude who had climbed and perished and left a glimmering name behind. Life was little, yet tremendous ”

“ What have you that I have not?”
“Nothing, maybe,” replied Luc gravely.
“Ah,” insisted the Court favourite, “you have the power to come and live—like this.” His superb gesture was as if he indicated a kennel. “You have the power to sacrifice things that must be sweet to you. What inspires you?”
“The love of glory, Monsieur,” smiled Luc. “Call it that. But what is the use of words? My life marches to a different music from yours.”
“Do you despise me?” asked the Maréchal quickly, eagerly. ”

“ The painter smiled bitterly.
“I have wasted all my years in the quest of glory.”
Luc felt the blood beating at his heart.
“And you have found——?” he questioned half fearfully.
“I have found that there is no such thing as glory on earth. And I have no belief in any heaven.”
As he spoke these words his face took on another tinge of pallor and a certain rigidity came over his features, giving them a look of death.
“You are unfortunate,” said Luc; “but you cannot say glory is not there because you have not achieved it with a paint-brush and a few yards of canvas.” ”

“ Luc looked from one to the other of these two fair faces, both so serene and loving in expression, and the paleness of his countenance increased, a lustre as of tears came into his eyes. He put his hand on to his father’s and clasped it so firmly that the signet ring was pressed into his palm.
“No, not now,” he said—“not now.”
“What not now?” smiled the old Marquis.
“That is all I have to say, Monseigneur,” replied Luc, with a sudden air of weariness. “Tell me what has happened in Provence.” ”

“ In that moment Luc felt that life was endless, glorious, and triumphant to those who had in their hearts this gift of energy, this spur to achievement. He bowed his head in a kind of tumult of thanksgiving, and such an agitation of joy filled his bosom that he had to support himself against the tall window frame. The sound of the opening door sounded, to his ecstatic mood, sharp as a pistol crack; yet in reality the door was both opened and closed softly. Beyond the candlelight stood a girl in a much-frilled rose-coloured muslin gown, holding in her hand a bunch of drooping wild pinks. ”

“ The daring atheist, the brilliant son of the people, the caressed of kings and flattered of women, the greatest man of letters of the age, the most decried and abused of human beings had no more fervent disciple than the quiet young aristocrat who had watched his splendour from afar. Luc thought of him now, and the tumult in his heart rose higher. ”

“ Luc had smiled to think of her dancing behind those walls—what if he had come into her presence and asserted his claim to friendship based on that march of horror from Prague?
He had not entered her mansion, nor did he think of waiting on her; why he could not tell, save that all his life he had shrunk from putting his dreams to the test of actuality: and he had dreams about the Countess Carola, visions of her and pleasant imaginings, but no knowledge; he did not care to alter this delicate attitude towards the only woman who had ever interested him. ”

“ France was brilliant yet corrupt, energetic yet slothful. Paris did not dazzle so much to Luc’s near sight as it had done to his distant gaze. Carola Koklinska became to him as a symbol of the city—so calm, lofty, high, and bright from a distance, so mean, dishonoured, falsely glittering near, yet with an immortal heart concealed somewhere behind the gaudy shams. ”

“ Luc found himself picturing what had happened in the room after he had left it. He had heard the door bolted—but afterwards the dying man had altered that with some change of thought, probably when the idea of his ironical letter occurred to him.
“He had a bitter humour,” thought Luc, with a sweet amaze. As for himself, the melancholy, the disgust, and the pity roused in him by the hopeless cynicism of the young painter’s sudden end had not extinguished or even for a second damped the fires of his own ardour ”

“ Luc saw again, very clearly, the old-fashioned chamber in Versailles and the young suicide lying there; he saw this picture perhaps even more vividly than the dark-eyed woman watching him from behind the striped settee.
“What is the matter?” asked Carola heavily.
Luc collected himself and took a step away from her while he looked at her with sudden flashing keenness.
She was bare indeed now, bare of the last glamour of any illusion—“from the gutters of St. Antoine,” the dead man had said. ”

“ He was now corresponding regularly with M. de Voltaire, and though the subject of their letters was still the respective merits of Corneille and Racine, Luc drew from the great man’s words a far wider inspiration than mere enthusiasm for the famous poets. He had always—almost without knowing it—been fond of letters, and now, in his unavoidable leisure, he had begun writing down his thoughts, and hopes, and aspirations. ”

“ As Luc looked at them he took off his sword, his sash, his scarf, his coat, and laid them across the old wand-bottomed chair in the window-seat.
Then he crossed to the square tortoiseshell-framed mirror that hung by the bed and looked at himself in the murky, greenish glass.
No longer a soldier ... he had taken off his uniform for the last time. He stood the same as when he had last left this chamber, save that it was then all before him, now all behind. He gazed at his own face, white above the white shirt, still noble and pleasing, still young, but frail and wasted and sad. ”

“ From that time forward Luc the builder, the founder of cities, recovered his self-possession, spoke his will and acted; and men and stones arose at his bidding. He became very gay, and carried on the struggle of La Crêcherie against the Abyss with triumphant joyousness, little by little winning over both folk and things, thanks to the craving for love and happiness which he inspired all around him. He himself felt that the secure establishment of his city would bring him back Josine. With her all the woeful ones of the whole world would be saved. ”

“ Millions did nothing with their lives, but all were not the same; the oak is large compared to the cherry tree, thought Luc, and some men can lift themselves. After the playing was over, and he was alone in his chamber, he would put some of his thoughts on paper for want of a better confidant—carefully concealing them, for his father considered it degradation for a gentleman to compose a line of verse or prose.
So the winter passed, and Luc remained in Aix doing homage to custom and family pride and family tradition and family affection. ”

“ Luc felt an absolute conviction that no one had left this room since he had himself, several hours before—save one way——
“Suicide,” he said, and folded the letter across. Then, with a callousness that surprised himself, he went to the bed and pulled aside the heavy blue brocade curtains, which were drawn closely together as they had been before.
He saw what he had expected to see: the young painter, prone and still, with fixed open eyes and a sneer on his stiff lips. ”