Prosper Mérimée

“ She has nothing to gain by seeing you, but much to lose. Now, make your choice."
"Madam," said Max with a voice of emotion, "you no longer doubt, I hope, that there can be any other sentiment on my part in regard to Arsène but an interest—quite natural. What danger would there be? None whatever. Do you distrust me? Do you think that I wish to injure the good counsels which you give her? No, indeed! I, who detest sad scenes, who avoid them with a sort of abhorrence, do you believe that I seek the sight of a dying girl with culpable intentions? ”

“ Arsène bowed her head and her eyes were bathed in tears.
"Alas! madam," she said, sighing deeply, "you believe me to be better than I am. You believe me to be pious, but I am not very. I have never been taught, and if you saw me at the church, offering a wax-taper, it was because I didn't know which way to turn."
"Well, my dear, it was a happy thought. When trouble comes, always go to God for comfort."
"Somebody told me—that if I were to offer a wax-taper to Saint Roch—but no, madam, I ought not to tell you that. ”

“ What do I see?" cried Arsène in a voice so altered that Madame de Piennes trembled.
"Well, this is a pretty thing that I hear! What does it all mean? To throw herself out of the window like an imbecile! Did anybody ever see any one so foolish as this girl!"
I know not if I use the exact terms; it is at least the sense of the language used by the person who had come into the room, and who by the voice, Madame de Piennes recognised at once to be Max de Salligny. Several exclamations followed, a few suppressed cries from Arsène, and then a loud kiss. ”

“ They awaken still more famished, and wish that they had not slept. Arsène suffered a torture comparable to these shipwrecked mariners. In days of old she had loved Max in such manner as she was capable of loving. It was with him that she would always have preferred going to the theatre, or amusing herself at a picnic, it was of him that she talked incessantly to her friends. When Max left she had cried bitterly; but, nevertheless, she received the attentions of a Russian whom Max was delighted to have for a successor, because he took him for a gallant man, that is to say, for a generous one. ”

“ We had reached Puygarrig, and the procession was about to start for the mayor’s office, when M. Alphonse put his hand to his forehead and whispered to me:
“What a fool I am! I have forgotten the ring! It is on the Venus’s finger, the devil take her! For Heaven’s sake, don’t tell my mother. Perhaps she will not notice anything.”
“You might send some one to get it,” I said.
“No, no! my servant stayed at Ille, and I don’t trust these people here. Twelve hundred francs’ worth of diamonds! that might be too much of a temptation for more than one of them. ”

“ In no century would Prosper Mérimée have been a theologian or metaphysician. But that sense of negation, of theoretic insecurity, was in the air, and conspiring with what was of like tendency in himself made of him a central type of disillusion. In him the passive ennui of Obermann became a satiric, aggressive, almost angry conviction of the littleness of the world around; it was as if man's fatal limitations constituted a kind of stupidity in him, what the French call bêtise. ”

“ Last of all, behind him, came two tall young men, with sunburnt faces, their cheeks hidden by heavy whiskers, proud and arrogant-looking, and showing symptoms of an impertinent curiosity. Orso had had time to forget the faces of his village neighbours; but the sight of the old man in green spectacles instantly called up old memories in his mind. His presence in attendance on the prefect sufficed to insure his recognition. This was Barricini, the lawyer, mayor of Pietranera, who had come, with his two sons, to show the prefect what a ballata was. ”

“ He waved aside Max and Madame de Piennes, and bending over the bed of suffering, he addressed to the poor girl the solemn and consoling words which religion reserves for such moments. In a corner of the chamber Madame de Piennes was kneeling in prayer, and Max, standing by the window seemed transformed to a statue.
"You forgive all those who have injured you, my daughter," said the preacher, in a voice choked with emotion.
"Yes! May they be happy!" replied the dying girl, with an effort to make herself heard. ”

“ The companion entered at this moment dressed for the street.
"At last, mademoiselle," said the Countess, "but what means this elaborate costume? Who is going to see you? Tell me what kind of a day is it. Windy, is it not?"
"No, your Excellency," said the footman, "on the contrary, it is quite mild."
"You never know what you are saying. Open the window. . . . It is just as I said; it is blowing a hurricane and is bitterly cold besides. I will not need the carriage. Lisanka, my dear, we will not go out. You need not have gone to all the trouble of dressing up."
"What a life!" ”

“ At those words Madame de Piennes raised her head and regarded him fixedly with an air of exaltation which gave to her features an expression of sublimity.
"An expiation, you say, a punishment?—Very well, yes! Unknown to you. Max, you obey perhaps an admonition from on high, and you are right in resisting me. Yes, I consent to it. See that girl, and may she become the means of your salvation, as you have nearly been that of her ruin." ”

“ Prosper Mérimée was born in Paris, September 28, 1803. His father, a Norman, was a professor in the École des Beaux-Arts, and his mother, Anne Moreau, who had English blood in her veins, was also an artist. Prosper attended the Collège Henri IV, and in the home [Pg 5] of his parents met the literati of the day. He undertook the study of law, but soon abandoned it, and spent some years in observing life while journeying abroad. He made much of ancient and modern languages, becoming especially proficient in Spanish. ”

“ They insulted me because I don’t belong in this land of thieves and dealers in rotten oranges; and those hussies all leagued against me, because I told them that all their Seville jacques [12] with their knives, wouldn’t frighten one of our boys with his blue cap and his maquila. Comrade, my friend, won’t you do anything for a countrywoman?’
“She lied, señor, she always lied. I doubt whether that girl ever said a true word in her life; but when she spoke, I believed her; it was too much for me. She murdered the Basque language, yet I believed that she was a Navarrese. ”

“ Suppose the old woman lets the house to women who are equal to accosting men who pass by in the street; there are old women sufficiently depraved to drive such a trade."
"Wonderful," I said. "Then I must look like a saint, for the old dame never suggested any such offers. You insult me. Besides, my friend, remember the furnishing of the house: a man must be possessed by the devil to be satisfied with it."
"Then it is a ghost, there can be no doubt about it. But wait a bit, I have still another idea. You have mistaken the house — ah! that is it; near a garden? With a little low door to it. ”

“ At the touch of his icy cheek she uttered a little cry.
"What is the matter?" she said to him anxiously. "Your forehead is as cold as marble."
"It is nothing," he replied in a voice which belied his words. "I heard a noise in the next room...."
He freed himself from her arms, then he moved the blue slipper and put an armchair in front of the door of communication, so as to hide the horrid liquid from his lover's eyes. It had stopped flowing, and had now collected into quite a big pool on the floor. ”

“ In a twinkling Antonio snatched off the rags he had wrapped around the creature's feet, and was just about to climb on its back. In vain did I attempt with prayers and threats to restrain him.
"I'm only a poor man, señor," quoth he, "I can't afford to lose two hundred ducats—especially when I shall earn them by ridding the country of such vermin. But mind what you're about! If Navarro wakes up, he'll snatch at his blunderbuss, and then look out for yourself! I've gone too far now to turn back. Do the best you can for yourself!" ”

“ She did not look either at the Count or at me, but at her new dress.
"How is it, Ioulka," said Madam Dowghiello, "that you do not say good day to the Professor? He complains of you."
" Ah, Professor!" she cried, with a charming little pout. "What have I done? Have you come to make me do penance? "
"We shall punish ourselves. Mademoiselle, if we deprive ourselves of your presence," I an- swered. " I am far from complaining; on the contrary, I congratulate myself on having learnt, thanks to you, that the Lithuanian Muse has reappeared more brightly than ever." ”

“ Scarcely had she recovered from her confusion of mind in regard to it when Max entered and she felt herself growing red in the face.
"Thank you for your flowers," said Arsene; "but they sicken me. They will not be lost; I have given them to madam. Do not make me talk, that is forbidden. Will you read me something?"
Max seated himself and began to read. This time nobody listened, I think. Each one, including the reader, followed the thread of his own thoughts.
When Madame de Piennes arose to depart. she was leaving the bouquet upon the table, but Arsène reminded her of her forgetfulness. ”

“ Come, take it. Monsieur," replied the bride, blushing and stifling a laugh; . . . but I can not satisfy you with a boot."
The pane did not wait a second bidding; he threw himself gracefully on his knees, took off a little white satin slipper with a red heel, filled it with champagne, and drank so quickly and so cleverly that not more than half fell on his clothes. The slipper was passed round, and all the men drank out of it, but not without difficulty. The old gentleman claimed the shoe as a precious relic, and Madam Dowghiello sent for a maid to repair her niece's disordered toilet. ”

“ There was an accent of coldness and constraint in the voice of Madame de Piennes which was not usual with her.
After a silence. Max continued with an air of humility:
"You are displeased with me, madam? Why don't you give me a good scolding as my aunt used to do, only to forgive me afterward? Come, do you wish me to give you my word never to gamble again?"
"When one makes a promise it is necessary to feel that he has the strength to keep it." ”

“ Nothing terrifies me more than drowning people."
"Where do you suppose I can find a novel of that kind? Would you like a Russian novel?"
"Pshaw! Are there Russian novels? Then send me one; you will not forget, will you?"
"I will be sure to remember. Good-bye, Grandmamma, I am in a great hurry. Goodbye, Lisabeta Ivanovna. What made you think Naroumof was in the Engineers?" And with that he went out.
Lisabeta Ivanovna, being left alone, went back to her sewing near the window. She was no sooner seated than there appeared at the corner of the street a young officer. ”

“ They are full of horrors; and though Mérimée does not in the least gloat over these, he recounts them a little too dispassionately. He may seem also a little too much to remember that he has been a romancer at other times, and to impress upon his readers that he is the soberest of historians here. He will never "let himself go" in episode or peroration, in description or character. It would not have been difficult for a man of much less power, and it would have been perfectly easy for him, to make a most striking figure out of that Polish damsel of high degree. ”

“ Nine months later the Countess gave birth to a fine, healthy boy, but where was the 'favourable turn'? Ah, yes, indeed . . . there was nothing but redoubled frenzy. The Count showed her her son. In novels that never fails to produce a good effect. 'Kill it! kill the beast!' she yelled; a little longer, and she would have wrung his neck. Ever since there have been phases of stupid imbecility, alternating with violent mania. There is a strong suicidal tendency. We are obliged to strap her down to make her take fresh air, and it takes three strong servants to hold her in. ”

“ The peasants yelled terrific hurrahs, and the blushing bride laughed and trembled simultaneously. The Count, who was not at all in a hurry to rid himself of his charming burden, evidently exulted in showing her picture to the surrounding crowd.
Suddenly a tall, pale, thin woman, with disordered dress and dishevelled hair, and every feature in her face drawn with terror, appeared at the top of the flight of stairs before anyone could tell whence she sprang. ”

“ A chef-d’œuvre of Myron, monsieur!”
“Chef-d’œuvre! chef-d’œuvre! a pretty chef-d’œuvre she made! to break a man’s leg!”
“Look you, my wife,” said M. de Peyrehorade in a determined tone, extending his right leg encased in a stocking of Chinese silk, in her direction, “if my Venus had broken this leg, I should not regret it.”
“Gracious Heaven! how can you say that, Peyrehorade? Luckily the man is getting better. Still, I can’t make up my mind to look at the statue that causes such accidents as that. Poor Jean Coll!” ”

“ She instantly took the old woman’s only plate, broke it in pieces, and in a moment she was dancing the romalis, clapping [Pg 71] the pieces of crockery in as perfect time as if they had been castanets of ebony or ivory. One was never bored with that girl, I assure you.
“Night came on and I heard the drums beating the retreat.
“‘I must go to quarters for the roll-call,’ I said.
“‘To quarters?’ she repeated, contemptuously; ‘are you a negro, pray, that you allow yourself to be led by a stick? You are a regular canary, in dress and in temper! [24] Go! ”