Renée Mauperin

“ With his daughter, M. Mauperin had had the same disappointment. She was one of those little girls who are women when they are born, and who play with their parents merely to amuse them. She scarcely had any childhood, and at the age of five, if a gentleman called to see her father, she always ran away to wash her hands. She would be kissed on certain spots, and she seemed to dread being ruffled or inconvenienced by a father's caresses and love.
Thus repelled, M. Mauperin's affection, so long hoarded up, went out to the cradle of the little newcomer whom he had named Renée after his mother. ”

“ It has belonged to our family for generations—this name, Henri. Think what a man father is. Oh, do give up this marriage—I beseech you—if you love me—if you love us all! Oh, I beseech you, Henri!"
"What's this all mean; have you gone mad? What are you making such a scene about? Come, that's enough, thank you; get up."
Renée rose to her feet, and looking straight into her brother's eyes she said:
"Noémi has told me everything!"
The colour had mounted to her cheeks. Henri was as pale as if some one had just spat in his face.
"You cannot, anyhow, marry her daughter!" exclaimed Renée. ”

“ Ah, M. Mauperin, all this is only met with once in a lifetime. And women of my age—old women, you understand—are the only ones who care about the future of those they love. You were not my lover; you were like a dear son to me!" As she said this, Mme. Bourjot's voice changed and she spoke with the deepest feeling. "That's enough, though; we won't talk about that," she continued in a different tone. "I tell you that you don't love my daughter—it is not true—but she is rich——"
"Oh, madame!" ”

“ I fancy that such things happen to people who have an empty heart, no one to think about; people who are not taken up, absorbed, possessed and, as it were, protected by one of those affections which take hold of you wholly and entirely—the affection one has for one's father, for instance."
Denoisel did not answer.
"You don't believe that that does preserve you?" said Renée. "Well, but I can assure you I have tried in vain to remember. Oh, I'm examining my conscience thoroughly, I promise you. Well, from my very childhood, I cannot remember anything—no, nothing at all. ”

“ As soon as his mother had gone Henri took up his pen and, continuing the article he had commenced for the Revue économique, wrote: "The trajectory of humanity is a spiral and not a circle——"
VIII
Henri Mauperin's age, like that of so many present-day young men, could not be reckoned by the years of his life; he was of the same age as the times in which he lived. The coldness and absence of enthusiasm in the younger generation, that distinguishing mark of the second half of the nineteenth century, had set its seal on him entirely. ”

“ It isn't my fault, for I would act anything—I'd stand on my head. But I can't find any one else, so that, unless I give a monologue—Denoisel has refused, and as for you, a sober man like you—well, I suppose it's no use asking."
"I, why, I would act right enough," answered Henri.
"You, Henri?" exclaimed Mme. Mauperin in astonishment.
"And then, too, we are not short of men," continued Renée, "there are always men to act. It's for the women's parts. Ah, that's the difficulty—to find ladies. I don't see who is to act with me." ”

“ Renée, who for some time past had been worried, thoughtful, and low-spirited, was almost cheerful this evening. She was amusing herself with blowing about the fluffy feathers which Noémi was wearing in her hair. The latter, languid and absent-minded, with a dreamy look in her eyes, was replying in monosyllables to Mme. Davarande's ceaseless chatter.
"Nowadays, everything is against money," began M. Bourjot again, sententiously. "There's a league—now, for instance, I made a road for the people at Sannois. Well, do you imagine that they even touch their hats to us? ”

“ It was not until 1860, with the publication of their first novel, "Les Hommes de Lettres," that they discovered their true bent lay in fiction. "Renée Mauperin," which is, perhaps, the best known of their books, was published in 1864. As a psychological analysis of contemporaneous youth, it is probably without its equal in French fiction. "The plot of the story," wrote Edmond de Goncourt, "is secondary. The authors have rather preferred to paint the modern young woman as she is: the product of the artistic and masculine system of education in force during the last thirty years. ”

“ This medallion, etched by Abot, was prefixed afterward to the edition of Jules de Goncourt's Letters, published by Charpentier. The profile, which is reproduced as the frontispiece to this edition of Renée Mauperin, is infinitely gentle; the emaciated contours, the extraordinary delicacy of the features, betray the intellectual dreamer, his mind intent on literary questions, and we understand M. Émile Zola's dictum: "Art killed him." ”

“ Your mother loves you dearly, too, I know, but your character and hers are different; and then, if anything happened to me. You know we must face things; and at my age. You see the thought of leaving you without a husband—and children—without any love which would make up to you for your old father's when he is no longer with you——"
M. Mauperin could not finish; his daughter had thrown her arms round him, stifling down her sobs, and her tears were flowing freely on his waistcoat. ”

“ Renée's sister, Mme. Mauperin's elder daughter, Mme. Davarande, was the type par excellence of a society woman. Society filled her whole life and her brain. As a child she had dreamed of it; from the time she had been confirmed she had longed for it. She had married very young, and had accepted the first "good-looking and suitable" man who had been introduced to her, without any hesitation or trouble and entirely of her own accord. ”

“ Life has few other pleasures for a well-brought-up girl like me. Everything is shocking! I dance, yes ... but do you think I am allowed to talk to my partner? Yes, no, no, yes--that's all! That's proper. And I am allowed to read if the books and articles are proper. I paint in oils, and that shocks my family; a young lady must not go beyond copying roses in water-colours. Isn't the current strong here?"
Renée Mauperin and young Reverchon, her parent's guest, were swimming in the Seine. ”

“ It was she, now, who made every one hopeful, and she concealed the fact that she was dying so skilfully and pretended so well that she wanted to live, that M. Mauperin on seeing her and listening to her dreams, gave himself up to dreaming with her of years which they had before them and which would be full of peace, tranquility, and happiness. ”

“ In our times when a good tenor can marry an income of thirty thousand pounds arithmetic becomes a thing of the past. All this is what I have wanted to explain to you, and I am sure you will understand me."
Henri Mauperin took his mother's hand in his as he spoke. She was fairly aghast with surprise, admiration, and a sentiment very near akin to respect.
"Don't you worry yourself," continued her son. "I shall marry well—better even perhaps than you dream of." ”

“ My wife is an excellent woman, you know, gentlemen, but if you disarrange her symmetry for her—It's quite a religion with my wife—symmetry is."
"How ridiculous you are, M. Mauperin!" said Mme. Mauperin, blushing at being convicted of the most flagrant provincialism; and then, turning upon her daughter, she exclaimed, "Oh, dear, Renée, how you stoop! Do sit up, my child——"
"That's always the way," murmured the young girl, speaking to herself. "Mamma avenges herself on me."
"Gentlemen," said M. Mauperin, when they had returned to the drawing-room, "you can smoke here, you know. ”

“ It's so ugly to be ill; and so it makes you like everything that is beautiful all the more."
With all this coquetry which the approach of death had brought to her, these fancies and caprices, these little delicacies and elegancies, other senses too seemed to come to Renée. She was becoming, and she felt herself becoming, more of a woman. Under all the languor and indolence caused by illness, her disposition, which had always been affectionate but somewhat masculine and violent, grew gentler, more unbending, and more calm. ”

“ A little more of her precious wit and you will see what proposals you will get for your daughter! I married Henriette so easily! Renée is my cross."
M. Mauperin had picked up his snuff-box from the table by the side of the bed and appeared to be intent on turning it round between his thumb and first finger.
"Well," continued Mme. Mauperin, "it's her own lookout. When she is thirty, when she has refused every one, and there is no one left who wants her, in spite of all her wit, her good qualities and everything else, she will have time to reflect a little—and you will, too." ”

“ We think we shall never be eighteen, and then, no sooner are we really eighteen than it's all over and we can't stay at that age. Well, it can't be helped. Oh, next time you come, bring some music with you and we'll play duets. I don't know whether I could now."
"And we shall rehearse—quand?" asked Denoisel.
"In Normandy!" answered Renée, indulging in that kind of joke which for the last few years has been in favour with society people, and which had its origin in the workshop and the theatre. Noémi looked perplexed, as though she had not caught the sense of the word she had just heard. ”

“ On a rosewood dinner-wagon, in front of the chimney-piece, were one or two knick-knacks, the sick girl's latest fancies—the little jug and the Saxony bowl that she had wanted. A little farther away, by the second window, all the souvenirs that Renée had collected in her riding days—her hunting and shooting relics, riding-canes, a Pyrenees whip, and some stags' feet with a card tied with blue ribbon, telling the day and place where the animal had been run to cover. ”

“ It was Denoisel who was bowing in front of her.
"Do we dance together—you and I? We know each other too well. Sit down there, and don't crease my dress. Well, what are you looking at?"
Renée was wearing a dress of white tulle, trimmed with seven narrow flounces and bunches of ivy leaves and red berries. In her bodice and the tulle ruches of her sleeves she wore ivy and berries to match. A long spray of the ivy was twisted round her hair with a few berries here and there and the leaves hung down over her shoulders. ”

“ Henri Mauperin was a young Doctrinaire. He had belonged to that generation of children whom nothing astonishes and nothing amuses; who go, without the slightest excitement, to see anything to which they are taken and who come back again perfectly unmoved. ”

“ At Mme. Mauperin's last words a gleam of paternal vanity lighted up M. Mauperin's face.
"Yes, yes," he said, smiling at the remembrance, "the fact is she is diabolically witty. Do you recollect her words about that poor Prefect: 'Oh, he's a regular old cock!' I remember how she said it directly she saw him."
"It really is very funny, and above all very fit and proper. Jokes of this kind will help her to get married, take my word for it. Such things will induce other men to come forward, don't you think so? I am quite certain that Renée must have a reputation for being a terror. ”

“ Henri was talking to me about it this evening; the young man hadn't said anything to him; of course, he's too well-bred for that. But Henri is quite persuaded that he's drawing out of it. One can always tell in matters of this kind; people have a way of——"
"Well, let him draw out of it then; what do you want me to say?" M. Mauperin sat straight up and put his two hands on his thighs. "Let him go. There are plenty of young men like Reverchon; he is not unique, we can find others; while girls like my daughter——"
"Good heavens! Your daughter—your daughter!" ”

“ You'd do better to come and look at this caricature album that Davarande has sent your mother."
"Ah yes, let's look at that," said Renée, going quickly across to her father and leaning on his shoulder as he turned over the leaves. She glanced at two or three pages and then looked away.
"There, I've had enough of them, thank you. Goodness, how can people enjoy making things ugly—uglier than nature? What a queer idea. Now in art, in books, and in everything, I'm for all that is beautiful, and not for what is ugly. ”

“ There are things that are so disloyal, so dishonest, that when I think of them it makes me quite merciful towards out-and-out scoundrels. You see they do risk something; their life is at stake and their liberty. They go in for things prepared to win or lose: they don't put gloves on to do their infamous deeds. I like that better; it's not so cowardly, anyhow!"
Renée was seated on a sofa at the far side of the drawing-room. Her arms were folded, her hands feverish, and her whole body quivering with emotion. ”

“ A room was always kept ready for Denoisel in the house, his place was always kept for him at table, and he came whenever he liked to spend a week with the Mauperins.
"There are days," continued Henri, "when Renée's nonsense does not matter, but this evening—before that man. It will be all off with that marriage, I'm sure! It would have been an excellent match—he has such good prospects. He's just the man in every respect—charming, too, and distinguished." ”

“ The curtain rose on the first scene of The Caprice. Renée was very lively as Mme. de Léry; Henri, in the rôle of husband, proved himself a talented amateur actor, as so many young men of a cold temperament, and grave society men, often do. Noémi, well sustained by Henri, admirably prompted by Denoisel, and slightly carried away by seeing the large audience, played her touching part as the neglected wife very passably. This was a great relief to Mme. Bourjot, who was seated in the front row anxiously watching her daughter. ”