Transcript

Section 4 · The Ball at Sceaux

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Section four of The ball at Soux by Horare de Balzac, translated by Clara
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Belle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, read by Bruce Pirie.
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Next morning, before Emily was awake, her uncle had hastened to Chaufrouse,
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on recognizing in the courtyard of an elegant little villa, the young man
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he had so determinedly insulted the day before. He went up to him with
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the pressing politeness of men of the old court. Why, my dear sir,
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who could have guessed that I should have a brush at the age of
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seventy three with the son or the grandson of one of my best friends.
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I am a vice admiral, monsieur. Is not that as much as to
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say that I think no more of fighting a jewel than of smoking a cigar.
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Why in my time no two young men could be intimate till they had
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seen the color of their blood. But it's death, sir, last evening
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sailor, like I had taken a drop too much grog on board, and
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I ran you down, shake hands. I would rather take a hundred rebuffs
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from a long ville than cause his family the smallest regret. However, coldly.
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The young man tried to behave to the Comte de Caergaroette. He could
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not resist the frank cordiality of his manner, and presently gave him his hand.
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You were going out riding, said the count. Do not let me
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detain you. But unless you have other plans, I beg you will come
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to dinner to day at the Ville Planard. My nephew, the Comte de
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Fontaine is a man. It is essential that you should know ah ha,
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And I propose to make up to you for my clumsiness by introducing you to
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five of the prettiest women in Paris. So so, young man, your
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brow is clearing. I am fond of young people, and I like to
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see them happy. Their happiness reminds me of the good times of my youth,
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when adventures were not lacking any more than duels, we were gay dogs.
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Then nowadays you think and worry over everything as though there had never been
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a fifteenth and a sixteenth century. But monsieur, are we not in the
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right. The sixteenth century only gave religious liberty to Europe, and the nineteenth
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will give it political liberty. Oh, we will not talk politics. I
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am a perfect old woman ultra. You see, but I do not hinder
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young men from being revolutionary, so long as they leave the king at liberty
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to disperse their assemblies. When they had gone a little way, and the
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Count and his companion were in the heart of the woods, the old sailor
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pointed out a slender, young birch sapling, pulled up his horse, took
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out one of his pistols, and the bullet was lodged in the heart of
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the tree fifteen paces away. You see, my dear fellow, that I
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am not afraid of a jewel, he said, with comical gravity, as
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he looked at Monsieur Longueville. Nor am, I replied the young man,
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promptly, cocking his pistol, he aimed at the hole made by the Comte's
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bullet and sent his own close to it. That is what I call a
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well educated man, cried the admiral with enthusiasm. During this ride with the
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youth, whom he already regarded as his nephew, he found endless opportunities of
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catechising him on all the trifles of which a perfect knowledge constituted according to his
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private code. An accomplished gentleman, have you any debts, he at last
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asked of his companion, after many other inquiries. No, monsieur, what
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you pay for all you have punctually? Otherwise we should lose our credit and
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every sort of respect. But at least you have more than one mistress.
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Ah, you blush, comrade, well manners have changed. All these notions
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of lawful order, kantism and liberty have spoilt the young men. You have
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no gimand now no dute, no creditors, and you know nothing of heraldry.
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Why, my dear young friend, you are not fully fledged. The
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man who does not sow his wild oats in the spring sows them in the
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winter. If I have but eighty thousand francs a year at the age of
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seventy, it is because I ran through the capital at thirty oh with my
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wife indecency and honor. However, your imperfections will not inter fear with my
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introducing you at the Pavillon Plenard. Remember you have promised to come, and
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I shall expect you. What an odd little old man, said Longueville to
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himself. He is so jolly and hale, but though he wishes to seem
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a good fellow, I will not trust him too far. Next day,
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at about four o'clock, when the house party were dispersed in the drawing rooms
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and billiard room, a servant announced to the inhabitants of the villa Planard Monsieur
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de l'ngueville. On hearing the name of the old admiral's protegee, everyone down
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to the player who was about to miss his stroke rushed in, as much
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to study Mademoiselle de Fontaine's countenance as to judge of this phoenix of men,
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who had earned honorable mention to the detriment of so many rivals. A simple
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but elegant style of dress, an air of perfect ease, polite manners,
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a pleasant voice with a ring in it which found a response in the hearer's
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heartstrings, won the good will of the family. For Monsieur Longueville. He
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did not seem unaccustomed to the luxury of the receiver General's ostentatious mansion. Though
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his conversation was that of a man of the world, it was easy to
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discern that he had had a brilliant education, and that his knowledge was as
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thorough as it was extensive. He knew so well the right thing to say
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in a discussion on naval architecture trivial. It is true, started by the
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old admiral that one of the ladies remarked that he must have passed through the
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ecole polytechnique, and I think, Madame, he replied that I may regard
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it as an honor to have got in in spite of urgent pressing. He
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refused politely but firmly to be kept to dinner, and put an end to
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the persistency of the ladies by saying that he was the Hippocrates of his young
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sister, whose delicate health required great care. Monsieur is perhaps a medical man,
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asked one of Emily's sisters in law, with ironical meaning. Monsieur has
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left the a called polytechnique. Mademoiselle de Fontaine kindly put in. Her face
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had flushed with richer color as she learned that the young lady of the ball
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was Monsieur Longueville's sister. But my dear, he may be a doctor and
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yet have been to the a called polytechnique. Is it not so, monsieur?
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There is nothing to prevent it, Madame, replied the young man.
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Every eye was on Emily, who was gazing with uneasy curiosity at the fascinating
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stranger more freely when he added, not without a smile. I have not
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the honor of belonging to the medical profession, and I even gave up going
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into the engineers in order to preserve my independence. Andrew did well, said
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the Count. But how can you regard it as an honor to be a
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doctor? Added the breton nobleman. Ah, my young friend, such a
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man as you, Monsieur le Comte, I respect every profession that has a
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useful purpose. Well in that we agree you respect those professions I imagine as
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a young man respects a dowager. Monsieur Longueville made his visit neither too long
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nor too short. He left at the moment when he saw that he had
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pleased everybody, and that each one's curiosity about him had been roused. He
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is a cunning rascal, said the Count, coming into the drawing room after
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seeing him to the door. Mademoiselle de Fontaine, who had been in the
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secret of this call, had dressed with some care to attract the young man's
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eye. But she had the little disappointment of finding that he did not bestow
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on her so much attention as she thought she deserved. The family were a
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good deal surprised at the silence into which she had retired. Emily generally displayed
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all her arts for the benefit of newcomers, her witty prattle and the inexhaustible
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eloquence of her eyes and attitudes. Whether it was that the young man's pleasing
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voice and attractive manners had charmed her, that she was seriously in love,
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and that this feeling had worked a change in her, her demeanor had lost
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all its affectations. Being simple and natural, she must no doubt have seemed
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more beautiful. Some of her sisters and an old lady, a friend of
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the family, saw in this behavior our refinement of art. They supposed that
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Emily, judging the man worthy of her, intended to delay revealing her merits
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so as to dazzle him. Suddenly, when she found that she pleased him,
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every member of the family was curious to know what this capricious creature thought
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of the stranger. But when during dinner everyone chose to endow Monsieur Longville with
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some fresh quality which no one else had discovered, Mademoiselle de Fontaine sat for
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some time in silence. A sarcastic remark of her uncle's suddenly roused her from
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her apathy. She said, somewhat epigrammatically, that such heavenly perfection must cover
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some great defect, and that she would take good care how she judged so
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gifted a man at first sight. Those who please everybody please nobody, she
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added, And the worst of all faults is to have none. Like all
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girls who are in love, Emily cherished the hope of being able to hide
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her feelings at the bottom of her heart by putting the argus eyes that watched
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on the wrong tack. But by the end of a fortnight there was not
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a member of the large family party who was not in this little domestic secret.
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When Monsieur Longville called for the third time, Amily believed it was chiefly
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for her sake. This discovery gave her such intoxicating pleasure that she was startled
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as she reflected on it. There was something in it very painful to her
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pride. Accustomed as she was to be the center of her world, she
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was obliged to recognize a force that attracted her outside herself. She tried to
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resist, but she could not chase from her heart the fascinating image of the
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young man then came some anxiety. Two of Monsieur Longville's qualities, very adverse
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to general curiosity, and especially to Mademoiselle de Fontaine's, were unexpected modesty and
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discretion. He never spoke of himself, of his pursuits, or of his
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family. The hints Emili threw out in conversation, and the traps she laid
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to extract from the young fellow some facts concerning himself, he could evade with
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the adroitness of a diplomatist concealing a secret. If she talked of painting,
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he responded as a connoisseur. If she sat down to play, he showed
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without conceit that he was a very good pianist. One evening he delighted all
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the party by joining his delightful voice to Emily's in one of Simaos's charming duets.
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But when they tried to find out whether he were a professional singer,
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he baffled them so pleasantly that he did not afford these women, practiced as
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they were, in the art of reading feelings, the least chance of discovering
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to what social sphere he belonged. However, boldly, the old uncle cast
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the boarding hooks over the vessel. Longviale slipped away cleverly so as to preserve
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the charm of mystery, and it was easy to him to remain the handsome
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stranger at the villa, because curiosity never overstepped the bounds of good breeding.
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Distracted by this reserve, hoped to get more out of the sister than the
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brother in the form of confidences. Aided by her uncle, who was as
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skillful in such maneuvers as in handling a ship, she endeavored to bring upon
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the scene the hitherto unseen figure of Mademoiselle Clara Longville. The family party at
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the villa planas soon expressed the greatest desire to make the acquaintance of so amiable
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a young lady, and to give her some amusement. An informal dance was
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proposed and accepted. The ladies did not despair of making a young girl of
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sixteen talk. Notwithstanding the little clouds piled up by suspicion and created by curiosity,
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a light of joy shone in Emily's soul, for she found life delicious
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when thus intimately connected with another than herself. She began to understand the relations
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of life. Whether it is that happiness makes us better, or that she
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was too fully occupied to torment other people. She became less caustic, more
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gentle, and indulgent. This change in her temper enchanted and amazed her family.
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Perhaps at last, her selfishness was being transformed to love. It was
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a deep delight to her to look for the arrival of her bashful and unconfessed
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adorer. Though they had not uttered a word of passion, she knew that
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she was loved, and with what art did she not lead the stranger to
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unlock the stores of his information, which proved to be varied. She perceived
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that she too was being studied, and that made her endeavor to remedy the
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defects her education had encouraged. Was not this her first homage to love and
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a bitter reproach to herself. She desired to please, and she was enchanting.
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She loved, and she was idolized. Her family, knowing that her
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pride would sufficiently protect her, gave her enough freedom to enjoy the little childish
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delights which give to first love its charm and its violence. More than once,
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the young man and Mademoiselle de Fontaine WoT tete a tete in the avenues
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of the garden, where nature was dressed like a woman going to a ball.
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More than once they had those conversations aimless and meaningless, in which the
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emptiest phrases are those which cover the deepest feelings. They often admired together the
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setting sun and its gorgeous coloring. They gathered daisies to pull the petals off,
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and sang the most impassioned DearS uettes, using the notes set down by
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Pergulesi or Rossini as faithful interpreters to express their secrets. The day of the
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dance came. Clara Longueville and her brother, whom the servants persisted in honoring
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with the noble de were the principal guests. For the first time in her
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life, Mademoiselle de Fontaine felt pleasure in a young girl's triumph. She lavished
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on Clara in all sincerity, the gracious petting and little attentions which women generally
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give each other only to excite the jealousy of men. Emily had indeed an
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object in view. She wanted to discover some secrets. But being a girl,
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Mademoiselle Longueville showed even more mother wit than her brother, for she did
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not even look as if she were hiding a secret, and kept the conversation
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to subjects unconnected with personal interests, while at the same time she gave it
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so much charm that Mademoiselle de Fontaine was almost envious and called her the Siren.
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Though Emily had intended to make Clara talk, it was Clara, in
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fact who questioned Emily. She had meant to judge her, and she was
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judged by her. She was constantly provoked to find that she had betrayed her
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own character in some reply which Clara had extracted from her. While her modest
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and candid manner prohibited any suspicion of perfidy. There was a moment when Mademoiselle
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de Fantine seemed sorry for an ill judged sally against the commonalty to which Clara
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had led her. Mademoiselle said, the sweet child, I have heard so
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much of you from Maximilian that I had the keenest desire to know you out
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of affection for him, but his not a wish to know you, a
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wish to love you, My dear Clara. I feared I might have displeased
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you by speaking thus of people who are not of noble birth, Oh,
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be quite easy. That sort of discussion is pointless in these days. As
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for me, it does not affect me. I am beside the question.
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Ambitious as the answer might seem, it filled Mademoiselle de Fontaine with the deepest
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joy, For, like all infatuated people, she explained it as oracles are
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explained, in the sense that harmonized with her wishes. She began dancing again
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in higher spirits than ever. As she watched Longville, whose figure and grace
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almost surpassed those of her imaginary ideal, she felt added satisfaction in believing him
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to be well born. Her black eyes sparkled, and she danced with all
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the pleasure that comes of dancing in the presence of the being we love.
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The couple had never understood each other as well as at this moment. More
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than once they felt their finger tips thrill and tremble as they were married in
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the figures of the dance. The early autumn had come to the handsome pair
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in the midst of country festivities and pleasures. They had abandoned themselves softly to
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the tide of the sweetest sentiment in life, strengthening it by a thousand little
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incidents which anyone can imagine, for love is, in some respects always the
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same. They studied each other through it all, as much as lovers can
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well well. A flirtation never turned so quickly into a love match, said
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the old uncle, who kept an eye on the two young people as a
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naturalist watches and insect in thede microscope. The speech alarmed Monsieur and Madame Fontaine.
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The old Fondean had ceased to be so indifferent to his daughter's prospects as
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he had promised to be. He went to Paris to seek information and found
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none. Uneasy at this mystery, and not yet knowing what might be the
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outcome of the inquiry which she had begged of Paris friend to institute with reference
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to the family of Longville, he thought it was his duty to warn his
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daughter to behave prudently. The fatherly admonition was received with mock submission spiced with
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irony. At least, my dear Emily, if you love him, do
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not own it to him. My dear father, I certainly do love him,
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but I will await your permission before I tell him so. But remember,
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Emily, you know nothing of his family or his pursuits. I may
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be ignorant, but I am content to be. But father, you wished
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to see me married. You left me at liberty to make my choice.
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My choice is irrevocably made. What more is needful? It is needful to
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ascertain, my dear, whether the man of your choice is the son of
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a peer of France, the venerable gentleman retorted sarcastically. Emily was silent for
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a moment. She presently raised her head, looked at her father, and
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said, somewhat anxiously, are not the long veils? They became extinct in
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the person of the old Duke de Rostein Limburg, who perished on the scaffold
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in seventeen ninety three. He was the last representative of the last and younger
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branch. But Papa, there are some very good families descended from Bastards.
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The history of France swarms with princes bearing the bar Sinister on their shields.
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Your ideas are much changed, said the old man with a smile. The
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following day was the last that the Fontaine family were to spend at the Pavillon
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Planard. Emily, greatly disturbed by her father's warning, awaited with extreme impatience
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the hour at which young Longeville was in the habit of coming to wring some
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explanation from him. She went out after dinner and walked alone across the shrubbery
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towards an arbor fit for lovers, where she knew that the eager youth would
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seek her. And as she hastened thither, she considered of the best way
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to discover so important a matter without compromising herself, a rather difficult thing.
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Hitherto, no direct avowal had sanctioned the feelings which bound her to this stranger.
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Like Maximilian, she had secretly enjoyed the sweetness of first love, but
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both were equally proud, and each feared to confess that love. Maximilian Longueville,
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to whom Clara had communicated her not unfounded suspicions as to Emily's character,
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was by turns carried away by the violence of a young man's passion, and
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held back by a wish to know and test the woman to whom he would
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be entrusting his happiness. His love had not hindered him from perceiving in Amili
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the prejudices which marred her young nature, but before attempting to counteract them,
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he wished to be sure that she loved him, for he would no sooner
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risk the fate of his love than of his life. He had therefore persistently
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kept a silence, to which his looks, his behavior, and his smallest
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actions gave the lie. On her side. The self respect natural to a
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young girl, augmented in Mademoiselle de Fontaine by the monstrous vanity founded on her
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birth and beauty, kept her from meeting the declaration half way, which her
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growing passion sometimes urged her to invite. Thus the lovers had instinctively understood the
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situation without explaining to each other their secret motives. There are times in life
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when such vagueness pleases youthful minds. Just because each had postponed speaking too long,
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they seemed to be playing a cruel game of suspense. He was trying
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to discover whether he was beloved by the effort any confession would cost his haughty
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mistress. She every minute hoped that he would break a too respectful silence.
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Emily, seated on a rustic bench, was reflecting on all that had happened
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in these three months. Full of enchantment. Her father's suspicions were the last
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that could appeal to her. She even disposed of them at once by two
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or three of those reflections natural to an inexperienced girl, which to her seemed
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conclusive. Above all, she was convinced that it was impossible that she should
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deceive herself. All the summer through she had not been able to detect in
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Maximilia a single gesture or a single word which could indicate a vulgar origin or
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vulgar occupations. Nay more, his manner of discussing things revealed a man devoted
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to the highest interests of the nation. Besides, she reflected, an office
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clerk, banker, or a merchant would not be at leisure to spend a
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whole season in paying his addresses to me in the midst of woods and fields,
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wasting his time as freely as a nobleman who has life before him,
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free of all care. She had given herself up to meditations far more interesting
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to her than these preliminary thoughts. When a slight rustling in the leaves announced
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to her that Maximilian had been watching her for a minute, not probably without
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admiration. Do you know that it is very wrong to take a young girl
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thus unawares? She asked him, smiling, especially when they are busy with
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their secrets, replied Maximilian archly, why should I not have my secrets?
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You certainly have yours. Then you really were thinking of your secret, he
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went on, laughing. No, I was thinking of yours, my own,
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I know, But perhaps my secrets are yours and yours mine, cried
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the young man, softly, seizing Mademoiselle de Fontaine's hand and drawing it through
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his arm. After walking a few steps, they found themselves under a clump
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of trees, which the hues of the sinking sun wrapped in a haze of
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red and brown. This touch of natural magic lent a certain solemnity to the
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moment. The young man's free and eager action, and above all, the
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throbbing of his surging heart, whose hurried beating spoke to Emily's arm, stirred
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her to an emotion that was all the more disturbing because it was produced by
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the simplest and most innocent circumstances. The restraint under which the young girls of
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the upper class live gives incredible force to any explosion of feeling, and to
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meet an impassioned lover is one of the greatest dangers they can encounter. Never
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had Emilie and Maximilian allowed their eyes to say so much that they dared never
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speak. Carried away by this intoxication, they easily forgot the petty stipulations of
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pride and the cold hesitancies of suspicion. At first, indeed, they could
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only express themselves by a pressure of hands, which interpreted their happy thoughts.
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After slowly pacing a few steps in long silence, Mademoiselle de Fontaine spoke,
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Monsieur, I have a question to ask you, she said, trembling and
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in an agitated voice. But remember I beg that it is in a manner
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compulsory on me from the a singular position I am in with regard to my
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family. A pause terrible to Emilie followed these sentences, which she had almost
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stammered out during the minute. While it lasted, the girl haughty, as
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she was dared not meet the flashing eye of the man she loved, for
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she was secretly conscious of the meanness of the next words. She added,
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are you of noble birth? As soon as the words were spoken, she
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wished herself at the bottom of a lake. Mademoiselle Longville gravely replied, and
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his face assumed a sort of stern dignity. I promise to answer you truly
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as soon as you shall have answered in all sincerity a question I will put
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to you. He released her arm, and the girl suddenly felt alone in
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the world world. As he said, what is your object in questioning me
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as to my birth? She stood motionless, cold and speechless. Mademoiselle Maximilian
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went on, let us go no further if we do not understand each other.
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I love you, he said, in a voice of deep emotion.
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Well, then, he added, as he heard the joyful exclamation, she
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could not suppress. Why ask me if I am of noble birth? Could
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he speak so? If he were not, cried a voice within her,
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which amily believed came from the depths of her heart. She gracefully raised her
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head, seemed to find new life in the young man's gaze, and held
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out her hand as if to renew the alliance. You thought I cared very
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much for dignities, said she, with keen archness. I have no titles
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to offer my wife. He replied in a half sportive, half serious tone.
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But if I choose one of high rank and among women whom a wealthy
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home, has accustomed to the luxury and pleasures of a fine fortune. I
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know what such a choice requires of me. Love gives everything, he added
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lightly, But only two lovers, once married, they need something more than
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the vault of heaven and the carpet of a meadow. He is rich,
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she reflected, as to titles. Perhaps he only wants to try me.
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He has been told that I am mad about titles and bent on marrying none
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but a peer's son. My priggish sisters have played me that trick. I
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assure you, monsieur, she said aloud, that I have had very extravagant
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ideas about life and the world. But now, she added, pointedly,
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looking at him in a perfectly distracting way, I know where true riches are
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to be found for a wife. I must believe that you are speaking from
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the depths of your heart, he said, with gentle gravity. But this
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winter, my dear Emily, in less than two months, perhaps I may
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be proud of what I shall have to offer you. If you care for
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the pleasures of wealth. This is the only secret I shall keep locked here.
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And he laid his hand on his heart, for on its success,
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my happiness depends I dare not say ours, yes, yes, ours.
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Exchanging such sweet nothings, they slowly made their way back to rejoin the company.
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Mademoiselle de Fontaine had never found her lover more amiable or wittier. His
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light figure, his engaging manners seemed to her more charming than ever since the
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conversation, which had made her, to some extent the possessor of a heart
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worthy to be the envy of every woman. They sang an Italian duet with
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so much expression that the audience applauded enthusiastically. Their adieus were in a conventional
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tone, which concealed their happiness. In short, this day had been to
34:37
Emilee like a chain, binding her more closely than ever to the stranger's fate.
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The strength and dignity he had displayed in the scene when they had confessed
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their feelings had perhaps impressed Mademoiselle de Fontaine with the respect without which there is
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no true love. When she was left alone in the drawing room with her
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father, the old man went up to her, affectionately, held her hands,
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and asked her whether she had gained any light as to Monsieur Longville's family
35:13
and fortune. Yes, my dear father, she replied, and I am
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happier than I could have hoped. In short, Monsieur de Longueville is the
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only man I could ever marry. Very well, Emily, said the count.
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Then I know what remains for me to do. Do you know of
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any impediment? She asked in sincere alarm, my dear child. The young
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man is totally unknown to me. But unless he is not a man of
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honor, so long as you love him, he is as dear to me
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as a son, not a man of honor, exclaimed Emily. As to
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that, I am quite easy. My uncle, who in reduced him to
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us? We'll answer for him, Say, my dear uncle. Has he
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been a filibuster, an outlaw? A pirate? I knew I should find
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myself in this fix, cried the old sailor. Waking up, he looked
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round the room, but his niece had vanished like Saint Elmo's fires, to
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use his favorite expression, Well, uncle, Monsieur de Fontaine, went on,
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how could you hide from us all you knew about this young man?
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You must have seen how anxious we have been. Is Monsieur de Longueville a
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man of family? I don't know him from Adam or Eve, said the
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Comte de Caergaroette, trusting to that crazy child's tact. I got him here
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by a method of my own. I know that the boy shoots with a
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pistol to admiration, huntswell, plays wonderfully at billiards, at chess, and
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at backgammon. He handles the foils and rides a horse like the late Chevalier
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de Saint George. He has a thorough knowledge of all our vintages. He
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is as good an arithmetician as Bahram draws, dances and sings, well,
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the Devil's in it. What more do you want? If that is not
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a perfect gentleman, Find me a bourgeois who knows all this, or any
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man who lives more nobly than he does. Does he do anything I ask
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you? Does he compromise his dignity by hanging about an office, bowing down
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before the upstarts? You call directors general? He walks upright. He is
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a man. However, I have just found in my waistcoat pocket the card
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he gave me when he fancied I wanted to cut his throat. Poor innocent
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young men are very simple minded nowadays. Here it is Rue du Santier number
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five, said Monsieur de Fontaine, trying to recall, among all the information
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he had received, something which might concern the stranger. What the devil can
38:15
it mean? Monsieur Palmer Faerbustanco, wholesale dealers in Muslins, calicoes and printed
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cotton goods live there. Stay. I have it Longville the deputy has an
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interest in their house. Well, But so far as I know, Longville
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has but one son of two and thirty, who is not at all like
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our man, and to whom he gave fifty thousand francs a year that he
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might marry a minister's daughter. He wants to be made a peer like the
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rest of them. I never heard him mention this Maximilian has he a daughter?
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Who is this girl? Clara? Besides, it is open to any
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adventurer to call himself Alph Longueville, but is not the house of Palm Ofverir
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brusten Co half ruined by some speculation in Mexico or the Indies. I will
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clear all this up. You speak a soliloquious if you were on the stage,
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and seem to account me a cipher, said the old admiral suddenly.
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Don't you know that if he is a gentleman, I have more than one
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bag in my hold that will stop any leak in his fortune. As to
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that, if he is a son of Longville's, he will want nothing,
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but said Monsieur de Fontaine, shaking his head from sight to side. His
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father has not even washed off the stains of his origin. Before the revolution
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he was an attorney, and the de he has since assumed no more belongs
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to him than half of his fortune. Pooh pooh, happy those whose fathers
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were hanged, cried the Admiral Gaily, end of Section four.