Transcript

Section 3 · The Ball at Sceaux

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Section three of The ball at Soux by Honore 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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When the fine weather was settled and after the budget was voted, the
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whole family, a perfect example of the parliamentary families on the northern side of
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the Channel, who have a footing in every government department and ten votes in
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the House of Commons, flew away like a brood of young birds, to
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the charming neighborhoods of Olney, Antoni and Chatenay. The wealthy Receiver General had
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lately purchased in this part of the world a country house for his wife,
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who remained in Paris only during the session. Though the fair Emilie despised the
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Commonalty, her feeling was not carried so far as to scorn the advantages of
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a fortune acquired in a profession. So she accompanied her sister to the sumption.
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Was Phila less out of affection for the members of her family who were
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visiting there, than because fashion has ordained that every woman who has any self
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respect must leave Paris in the summer. The green seclusion of soul answered to
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perfection the requirements of good style and of the duties of an official position.
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As it is extremely doubtful that the fame of the Bal des Soul should ever
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have extended beyond the borders of the department of the Seine, it will be
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necessary to give some account of this weekly festivity, which at that time was
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important enough to threaten to become an institution. The environs of the little town
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of Soul enjoy a reputation due to the scenery, which is considered enchanting.
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Perhaps it is quite ordinary and owes its fame only to the stupidity of the
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paris The townsfolk, who emerging from the stony abyss in which they are buried,
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would find something to admire in the flats of Labouse. However, as
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the poetic shades of Olney, the hillsides of Antoni, and the valley of
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the Bievro are peopled with artists who have traveled far, by foreigners who are
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very hard to please, and by a great many pretty women not devoid of
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taste. It is to be supposed that the Parisians are right, but Soul
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possesses another attraction not less powerful to the Parisian In the midst of a garden,
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whence there are delightful views, stands a large rotunda, open on all
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sides, with a light, spreading roof supported on elegant pillars. This rural
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baldequino shelters a dancing floor. The most stuck up landowners of the neighborhood rarely
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fail to make an excursion thither once or twice during the season, arriving at
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this rustic palace of terpsicari, either in dashing parties on horseback or in the
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light and elegant carriages which powder the philosophical pedestrian with dust. The hope of
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meeting some women of fashion and of being seen by them, and the hope
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less often disappointed of seeing young peasant girls as wily as judges, crowds the
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ballroom at so with numerous swarms of lawyers, clerks of the Disciples of Esculapius,
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and other youths whose complexions are kept pale and moist by the damp atmosphere
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of Paris back shops. And a good many bourgeois marriages have had their beginning
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to the sound of the band occupying the center of this circular ballroom. If
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that roof could speak what love stories could it not tell? This interesting medley
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gave the sow balls at that time a spice of more amusement than those of
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two or three places of the same kind near Paris, and it had incontestable
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advantages in its rotunda and the beauty of its situation and its gardens. Amily
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was the first to express a wish to play at being common folk at this
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gleeful suburban entertainment, and promised herself immense pleasure in mingling with the crowd.
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Everybody wondered at her desire to wander through such a mob, But is there
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not a keen pleasure to grand people? In an incognito Mademoiselle la Fontaine amused
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herself with imagining all these town bred figures. She fancied herself, leaving the
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memory of a bewitching glance and smile stamped on more than one shopkeeper's heart.
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Laughed before hand at the damsel's airs, and sharpened her pencils for the scenes
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she proposed to sketch in her satirical album. Sunday could not come soon enough
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to satisfy her impatience. The party from the villa Planas set out on foot
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so as not to betray the rank of the personages who were about to honor
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the ball with their prisons. They dined early, and the month of May
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humored this aristocratic escapade by one of its finest evenings. Mademoiselle de Fontaine was
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quite surprised to find in the rotunda some quadrilles made up of persons who seemed
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to belong to the upper classes. Here and there, indeed were some young
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men who looked as though they must have saved for a month to shine for
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a day, and she perceived several couples whose too hearty glee suggested nothing conjugal.
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Still, she could only glean instead of gathering a harvest. She was
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amused to see that pleasure in a cotton dress was so very like pleasure robed
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in satin, and that the girls of the middle class danced quite as well
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as ladies, nay sometimes better. Most of the women were simply and suitably
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dressed. Those who in this assembly represented the ruling power, that is to
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say, the country folk kept apart with wonderful politeness. In fact, Mademoiselle
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Emily had to study the various elements that composed the mixture before she could find
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any subject for pleasantry, but she had not time to give herself up to
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malicious criticism or opportunity for hearing many of the startling speeches which caricaturists so gladly
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pick up. The haughty young lady suddenly found a flower in this wide field.
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The metaphor is reasonable, whose splendor and coloring worked on her imagination.
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With all the fascination of novelty, it often happens that we look at a
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dress, a hanging, a blank sheet of paper with so little heed that
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we do not at first detect a stain or a bright spot, which afterwards
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strikes the eye as though it had come there at the very instant when we
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see it. And by a sort of moral phenomenon somewhat resembling this, Mademoiselle
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de Fontaine discovered in a young man the external perfection of which she had so
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long dreamed. Seated on one of the clumsy chairs which marked the boundary line
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of the circular floor, she had placed herself at the end of the row
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formed by the family party, so as to be able to stand up or
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push forward as her fancy moved her, treating the living pictures and groups in
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the hall as if she were in a picture gallery, impertinently turning her eyeglass
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on persons not two yards away, and making her remarks as though she were
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criticizing or praising a study of a head, a painting of genre. Her
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eyes, after wandering over the vast moving picture, were suddenly caught by this
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figure, which seemed to have been placed on purpose in one corner of the
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canvas, and in the best light, like a person out of all proportion
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with the rest. The stranger, alone and absorbed in thought, leaned lightly
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against one of the columns that supported the roof. His arms were folded,
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and he leaned slightly on one side, as though he had placed himself there
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to have his portrait taken by a painter. His attitude, though full of
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elegance and dignity, was devoid of affectation. Nothing suggested that he had half
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turned his head and bent it a little to the right, like Alexander,
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or Lord Byron, and some other great men, for the sole purpose of
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attracting attention. His fixed gaze followed a girl who was dancing, and betrayed
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some strong feeling. His slender, easy frame recalled the noble proportions of the
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Apollo. Fine black hair curled naturally over a high forehead. At a glance,
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Mademoiselle de Fontaine observed that his linen was fine, his gloves fresh and
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evidently bought of a good maker, and his feet were small and well shot
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in boots of Irish kid. He had none of the vulgar trinkets displayed by
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the dandies of the National Guard or the lovelaces of the counting house. A
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black ribbon to which an eyeglass was attached, hung over a waistcoat of the
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most fashionable cut. Never had the fastidious Emily seen a man's eyes shaded by
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such long curled lashes. Melancholy and passion were expressed in this face, and
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the complexion was of a manly olive hue. His mouth seemed ready to smile,
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unbending the corners of eloquent lips. But this, far from hinting at
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gaiety, revealed, on the contrary, a sort of pathetic grace. There
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was too much promise in that head, too much distinction in his whole person,
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to allow of one's saying, what a handsome man, or what a
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fine man one wanted to know him. The most clear sighted observer, on
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seeing this stranger could not have helped, taking him for a clever man attracted
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to this rural festivity by some powerful motive. All these observations cost Amilie only
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a minute's attention, during which the privileged gentleman, under her severe scrutiny,
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became the object of her secret admiration. She did not say to herself,
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he must be a peer of France, but oh, if only he is
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noble, and he surely must be. Without finishing her thought, she suddenly
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rose, and, followed by her brother, the General, she made her
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way towards the column, affecting to watch the mery quadrille, But by a
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stratagem of the eye familiar to women, she lost not a gesture of the
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young man. As she went towards him. The stranger politely moved to make
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way for the newcomers and went to lean against another pillar. Amily as much
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nettled by his police lightiteness as she might have been by an impertinence, began
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talking to her brother in a louder voice than good taste, and joined.
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She turned and tossed her head, gesticulated eagerly, and laughed for no particular
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reason, less to amuse her brother than to attract the attention of the imperturbable
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stranger. None of her little arts succeeded. Mademoiselle de Fontaine then followed the
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direction in which his eyes were fixed and discovered the cause of his indifference.
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In the midst of the quadrille. Close in front of them, a pale
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girl was dancing. Her face was like one of the divinities which jule Da
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has introduced into his immense composition of French warriors. Received by Ossian, Emily
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fancied that she recognized her as a distinguished milady who for some months had been
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living on a neighboring estate. Her partner was a lad of about fifteen,
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with red hands and dressed in nankeen trousers, a blue coat and white shoes,
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which showed that the damsel's love of dancing made her easy to please in
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the matter of partners. Her movements did not betray her apparent delicacy, but
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a faint flush already tinged her white cheeks, and her complexion was gaining color.
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Mademoiselle de Fontaine went nearer to be able to examine the young lady at
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the moment when she returned to her place, while the side couples in their
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turn danced the figure, but the stranger went up to the pretty dancer,
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and leaning over, said, in a gentle but commanding tone, Clara,
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my child did not dance any more. Clara made a little pouting face,
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bent her head, and finally smiled. When the dance was over, the
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young man rapped her in a cashmere shawl with a lover's care, and seated
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her in a place sheltered from the wind. Very soon, Mademoiselle de Fontaine,
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seeing them rise and walk round the place as if preparing to leave,
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found means to follow them, under pretense of admiring the views from the garden.
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Her brother lent himself with malicious good humor to the divigations of her rather
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eccentric wanderings. Amili then saw the attractive couple get into an elegant tilbury,
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by which stood a mounted groom in livery. At the moment when from his
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high seat the young man was drawing the reins even she caught a glance from
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his eye such as a man cast seamlessly at the crowd, and then she
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enjoyed the feeble satisfaction of seeing him turn his head to look at her the
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young lady did the same. Was it from jealousy? I imagine you have
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now seen enough of the garden, said her brother. We may go back
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to the dancing. I am ready, said she. Do you think the
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girl can be a relation of Lady Dudley's. Lady Dudley may have some male
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relations staying with her, said the Bowon de Fontaine, But a young girl
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no. Next day, Mademoiselle de Fontaine expressed a wish to take a ride.
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Then she gradually accustomed her old uncle and her brothers to escorting her in
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very early rides. Excellent, she declared, for her health. She had
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a particular fancy for the environs of the hamlet where Lady Dudley was living.
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Notwithstanding her cavalry maneuvers, she did not meet the stranger so soon as the
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eager search she pursued might have allowed her to hope. She went several times
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to the bals Dessault without seeing the young Englishman who had dropped from the skies
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to pervade and beautify her dreams. Though nothing spurs on a young girl's infant
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passion so effectually as an obstacle, there was a time when Mademoiselle de Fontaine
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was on the point of giving up her strange and secret search, almost despairing
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of the success of an enterprise whose singularity may give some idea of the boldness
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of her temper. In point of fact, she might have wandered long about
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the village of Chatenay without meeting her unknown the fair Clara, since that was
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the name Emily had overheard, was not English, and the stranger who escorted
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her did not dwell among the flowery and fragrant of Chatenay. One evening,
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Emily, out riding with her uncle, who during fine weather had gained a
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fairly long truce from the gout, met Lady Dudley, the distinguished foreigner had
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with her in her open carriage, Monsieur van Denesse. Emily recognized the handsome
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couple, and her suppositions were at once dissipated like a dream. Annoyed,
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as any woman must be whose expectations are frustrated, she touched up her horse
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so suddenly that her uncle had the greatest difficulty in following her. She had
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set off at such a pace. I am too old, it would seem
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to understand these youthful spirits, said the old sailor to himself as he put
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his horse to a canter. Or perhaps young people are not what they used
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to be. But what ails my niece now? She is walking at a
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foot pace like a gendarme on patrol in the Paris streets. One might chancy.
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She wanted to outflank that worthy man who looks to me like an author
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dreaming over his poetry. For he has, I think a notebook in his
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hand. My word, I am a great simpleton? Is not that the
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very young man we are in search of? At this idea, the old
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admiral moderated his horse's pace so as to follow his niece without making any noise.
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He had played too many pranks in the years seventeen seventy one and soon
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after a time of our history when gallantry was held in honor, not to
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guess at once that, by the merest chance, Amy Lee had met the
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unknown of the saul Gardens. In spite of the film which Age had drawn
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over his gray eyes, the Comte de Caergaroette could recognize the signs of extreme
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agitation in his niece under the unmoved expression she tried to give to her features.
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The girl's piercing eyes were fixed in a sort of dull amazement on the
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stranger, who quietly walked on in front of her. Aye, that's it,
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thought the sailor. She is following him as a pirate follows a merchantman.
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Then when she has lost sight of him, she will be in despair
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at not knowing who it is she is in love with, and whether he
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is a marquis or a shop keeper. Really, these young heads need an
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old fogey like me always by their side. He unexpectedly spurred his horse in
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such a way as to make his nieces bold, and rode so hastily between
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her and the young man on foot that he obliged him to fall back onto
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the grassy bank which rose from the roadside. Then, abruptly drawing up,
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the count exclaimed, couldn't you get out of the way. I beg your
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pardon, monsieur, But I did not know that it lay with me to
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apologize to you, because you almost rode me down there. Enough of that,
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my good fellow, replied the sailor harshly, in a sneering tone that
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was nothing less than insulting. At the same time, the count raised his
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hunting crop as if to strike his horse, and touched the young fellow's shoulder,
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saying, a liberal citizen is a reasoner. Every reasoner should be prudent.
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The young man went up the bank side as he heard the sarcasm.
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Then he crossed his arms and said, in an excited tone of voice,
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I cannot suppose, monsieur, as I look at your white hairs, that
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you still amuse yourself by provoking jewels. White hairs, cried the sailor,
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interrupting him. You lie in your throat, they are only gray. A
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quarrel thus begun, had in a few seconds become so fierce that the younger
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man forgot the moderation he had tried to preserve. Just as the Comte de
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Caergarotte saw his niece coming back to them with every sign of the greatest uneasiness,
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he told his antagonist his name, bidding him keep silence before the young
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lady entrusted to his care. The stranger could not help smiling as he gave
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a visiting card to the old man, desiring him to observe that he was
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living at a country house at Chevrouse, And after pointing this out to him,
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he hurried away. You very nearly damaged that poor young counter jumper,
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My dear, said the count, advancing hastily to meet Amy Lee. Do
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you not know how to hold your horse in? And there you leave me
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to compromise my dignity in order to screen your folly. Whereas if you had
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but stopped one of your looks or one of your pretty speeches, one of
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those you can make so prettily when you are not pert would have set everything
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right even if you had broken his arm. But my dear uncle, it
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was your horse, not mine, that caused the accident. I really think
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you can no longer ride. You are not so good a horseman as you
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were last year. But instead of talking nonsense nonsense, by gad, is
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it nothing to be so impertinent to your uncle? Ought we not to go
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on and inquire if the young man is hurt He is limping, Uncle,
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only look, no, he is running I rated him soundly. Oh yes,
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Uncle, I know you. There, stop, said the count,
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pulling Amily's horse by the bridle. I do not see the necessity of making
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advances to some shop keeper who is only too lucky to have been thrown down
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by a charming young lady, or the commander of la balpoule. Why do
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you think he is anything so common, my dear uncle. He seems to
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me to have very fine manners. Everyone has manners nowadays, my dear no
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uncle, not everyone has the air and style which come of the habit of
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frequenting drawing rooms. And I am ready to lay a bet with you that
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the young man is of noble birth. You had not long to study him.
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No, but it is not the first time I have seen him,
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nor is it the first time you have looked for him, replied the admiral,
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with a laugh amily colored her uncle amused himself for some time with her
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embarrassment. Then he said, Emily, you know that I love you as
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my own child, precisely because you are the only member of the family who
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has the legitimate pride of high birth. Devil take it, child, who
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could have believed that sound principles would become so rare? Well, I will
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be your confidante, my dear child. I see that this young gentleman is
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not indifferent to you. Hush all the family would laugh at us if we
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sailed under the wrong flag. You know what that means, We too,
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will keep our secret, and I promise to bring him straight into the drawing
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room when Uncle tomorrow. But my dear uncle, I am not committed to
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anything, nothing, whatever, And you may bombard him, set fire to
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him, and leave him to founder like an old hulk. If you choose,
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he won't be the first. I fancy you are, kind uncle.
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As soon as the Count got home, he put on his glasses, quietly,
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took the card out of his pocket and read Maximilian Longueville Rue de Santier.
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Make yourself happy, my dear niece, he said to Emily, you
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may hook him with an easy conscience. He belongs to one of our historical
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families, and if he is not a peer of France, he infallibly will
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be. How do you know so much? That is my secret? Then
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do you know his name? The old man bowed his gray head, which
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was not unlike a gnarled oak stump with a few leaves fluttering about it withered
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by autumnal frosts, and his niece immediately began to try the ever new power
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of her coquettish arts. Long familiar with the secret of cajoling the old man,
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she lavished on him the most childlike caresses, the tenderest names. She
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even went so far as to kiss him, to induce him to divulge so
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important a secret. The old man who spent his life in playing off these
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scenes on his niece, often paying for them with a present of jewelry or
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by giving her his box at the opera. This time amused himself with her
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entreaties and above all her caresses. But as he spun out this pleasure too
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long, Emily grew angry, passed from coaxing to sarcasm and sulks. Then,
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urged by curiosity, she recovered herself. The dip domatic admiral extracted a
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solemn promise from his niece that she would, for the future be gentler,
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less noisy, and less wilful, that she would spend less and above all
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tell him everything. The treaty being concluded and signed by a kiss impressed on
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Emili's white brow. He led her into a corner of the room, drew
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her on to his knee, held the card under the thumbs so as to
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hide it, and then uncovered the letters one by one, spelling the name
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of Longueville. But he firmly refused to show her anything more. This incident
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added to the intensity of Mademoiselle de Fontaine's secret sentiment, and during the chief
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part of the night she evolved the most brilliant pictures from the dreams with which
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she had fed her hopes. At last, thanks to chance to which she
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had so often appealed, Emily could now see something very unlike a chimera at
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the fountain head of the imaginary wealth with which she gilded her married life.
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Ignorant as all young girls are of the perils of love and marriage, she
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was passionately captivated by the externals of marriage and love. Is not this as
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much as to say that her feeling had birth like all the feelings of extreme
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youth, sweet but cruel mistakes which exert a fatal influence on the lives of
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young girls so inexperienced as to trust their own judgment to take care of their
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future happiness. End of Section three.