modeste mignon-第11节

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adored　to　the　summit　of　her　wishes　in　many　an　imagined　phase　of　social

life。　Sometimes　as　the　heroine　of　a　dark　romance；　she　loved　the

executioner；　or　the　wretch　who　ended　her　days　upon　the　scaffold；　or；

like　her　sister；　some　Parisian　youth　without　a　penny；　whose　struggles

were　all　beneath　a　garret…roof。　Sometimes　she　was　Ninon；　scorning　men

amid　continual　fetes；　or　some　applauded　actress；　or　gay　adventuress；

exhausting　in　her　own　behalf　the　luck　of　Gil　Blas；　or　the　triumphs　of

Pasta；　Malibran；　and　Florine。　Then；　weary　of　the　horrors　and

excitements；　she　returned　to　actual　life。　She　married　a　notary；　she

ate　the　plain　brown　bread　of　honest　everyday　life；　she　saw　herself　a

Madame　Latournelle；　she　accepted　a　painful　existence；　she　bore　all　the

trials　of　a　struggle　with　fortune。　After　that　she　went　back　to　the

romances：　she　was　loved　for　her　beauty；　a　son　of　a　peer　of　France；　an

eccentric；　artistic　young　man；　divined　her　heart；　recognized　the　star

which　the　genius　of　a　De　Stael　had　planted　on　her　brow。　Her　father

returned；　possessing　millions。　With　his　permission；　she　put　her

various　lovers　to　certain　tests　（always　carefully　guarding　her　own

independence）；　she　owned　a　magnificent　estate　and　castle；　servants；

horses；　carriages；　the　choicest　of　everything　that　luxury　could

bestow；　and　kept　her　suitors　uncertain　until　she　was　forty　years　old；

at　which　age　she　made　her　choice。



This　edition　of　the　Arabian　Nights　in　a　single　copy　lasted　nearly　a

year；　and　taught　Modeste　the　sense　of　satiety　through　thought。　She

held　her　life　too　often　in　her　hand；　she　said　to　herself

philosophically　and　with　too　real　a　bitterness；　too　seriously；　and　too

often；　〃Well；　what　is　it；　after　all？〃　not　to　have　plunged　to　her　waist

in　the　deep　disgust　which　all　men　of　genius　feel　when　they　try　to

complete　by　intense　toil　the　work　to　which　they　have　devoted

themselves。　Her　youth　and　her　rich　nature　alone　kept　Modeste　at　this

period　of　her　life　from　seeking　to　enter　a　cloister。　But　this　sense　of

satiety　cast　her；　saturated　as　she　still　was　with　Catholic

spirituality；　into　the　love　of　Good；　the　infinite　of　heaven。　She

conceived　of　charity；　service　to　others；　as　the　true　occupation　of

life；　but　she　cowered　in　the　gloomy　dreariness　of　finding　in　it　no

food　for　the　fancy　that　lay　crouching　in　her　heart　like　an　insect　at

the　bottom　of　a　calyx。　Meanwhile　she　sat　tranquilly　sewing　garments

for　the　children　of　the　poor；　and　listening　abstractedly　to　the

grumblings　of　Monsieur　Latournelle　when　Dumay　held　the　thirteenth　card

or　drew　out　his　last　trump。



Her　religious　faith　drove　Modeste　for　a　time　into　a　singular　track　of

thought。　She　imagined　that　if　she　became　sinless　（speaking

ecclesiastically）　she　would　attain　to　such　a　condition　of　sanctity

that　God　would　hear　her　and　accomplish　her　desires。　〃Faith；〃　she

thought；　〃can　move　mountains；　Christ　has　said　so。　The　Saviour　led　his

apostle　upon　the　waters　of　the　lake　Tiberias；　and　I；　all　I　ask　of　God

is　a　husband　to　love　me；　that　is　easier　than　walking　upon　the　sea。〃

She　fasted　through　the　next　Lent；　and　did　not　commit　a　single　sin；

then　she　said　to　herself　that　on　a　certain　day　coming　out　of　church

she　should　meet　a　handsome　young　man　who　was　worthy　of　her；　whom　her

mother　would　accept；　and　who　would　fall　madly　in　love　with　her。　When

the　day　came　on　which　she　had；　as　it　were；　summoned　God　to　send　her　an

angel；　she　was　persistently　followed　by　a　rather　disgusting　beggar；

moreover；　it　rained　heavily；　and　not　a　single　young　man　was　in　the

streets。　On　another　occasion　she　went　to　walk　on　the　jetty　to　see　the

English　travellers　land；　but　each　Englishman　had　an　Englishwoman；

nearly　as　handsome　as　Modeste　herself；　who　saw　no　one　at　all

resembling　a　wandering　Childe　Harold。　Tears　overcame　her；　as　she　sat

down　like　Marius　on　the　ruins　of　her　imagination。　But　on　the　day　when

she　subpoenaed　God　for　the　third　time　she　firmly　believed　that　the

Elect　of　her　dreams　was　within　the　church；　hiding；　perhaps　out　of

delicacy；　behind　one　of　the　pillars；　round　all　of　which　she　dragged

Madame　Latournelle　on　a　tour　of　inspection。　After　this　failure；　she

deposed　the　Deity　from　omnipotence。　Many　were　her　conversations　with

the　imaginary　lover；　for　whom　she　invented　questions　and　answers；

bestowing　upon　him　a　great　deal　of　wit　and　intelligence。



The　high　ambitions　of　her　heart　hidden　within　these　romances　were　the

real　explanation　of　the　prudent　conduct　which　the　good　people　who

watched　over　Modeste　so　much　admired；　they　might　have　brought　her　any

number　of　young　Althors　or　Vilquins；　and　she　would　never　have　stooped

to　such　clowns。　She　wanted；　purely　and　simply；　a　man　of　genius；

talent　she　cared　little　for；　just　as　a　lawyer　is　of　no　account　to　a

girl　who　aims　for　an　ambassador。　Her　only　desire　for　wealth　was　to

cast　it　at　the　feet　of　her　idol。　Indeed；　the　golden　background　of

these　visions　was　far　less　rich　than　the　treasury　of　her　own　heart；

filled　with　womanly　delicacy；　for　its　dominant　desire　was　to　make　some

Tasso；　some　Milton；　a　Jean…Jacques　Rousseau；　a　Murat；　a　Christopher

Columbus　happy。



Commonplace　miseries　did　not　seriously　touch　this　youthful　soul；　who

longed　to　extinguish　the　fires　of　the　martyrs　ignored　and　rejected　in

their　own　day。　Sometimes　she　imagined　balms　of　Gilead；　soothing

melodies　which　might　have　allayed　the　savage　misanthropy　of　Rousseau。

Or　she　fancied　herself　the　wife　of　Lord　Byron；　guessing　intuitively

his　contempt　for　the　real；　she　made　herself　as　fantastic　as　the　poetry

of　Manfred；　and　provided　for　his　scepticism　by　making　him　a　Catholic。

Modeste　attributed　Moliere's　melancholy　to　the　women　of　the

seventeenth　century。　〃Why　is　there　not　some　one　woman；〃　she　asked

herself；　〃loving；　beautiful；　and　rich；　ready　to　stand　beside　each　man

of　genius　and　be　his　slave；　like　Lara；　the　mysterious　page？〃　She　had；

as　the　reader　perceives；　fully　understood　〃il　pianto；〃　which　the

English　poet　chanted　by　the　mouth　of　his　Gulmare。　Modeste　greatly

admired　the　behavior　of　the　young　Englishwoman　who　offered　herself　to

Crebillon；　the　son；　who　married　her。　The　story　of　Sterne　and　Eliza

Draper　was　her　life　and　her　happiness　for　several　months。　She　made

herself　ideally　the　heroine　of　a　like　romance；　and　many　a　time　she

rehearsed　in　imagination　the　sublime　role　of　Eliza。　The　sensibility　so

charmingly　expressed　in　that　delightful　correspondence　filled　her　eyes

with　tears　which；　it　is　said；　were　lacking　in　those　of　the　wittiest　of

English　writers。



Modeste　existed　for　some　time　on　a　comprehension；　not　only　of　the

works；　but　of　the　characters　of　her　favorite　authors；Goldsmith；　the

author　of　Obermann；　Charles　Nodier；　Maturin。　The　poorest　and　the　most

suffering　among　them　were　her　deities；　she　guessed　their　trials；

initiated　herself　into　a　destitution　where　the　thoughts　of　genius

brooded；　and　poured　upon　it　the　treasures　of　her　heart；　she　fancied

herself　the　giver　of　material　comfort　to　these　great　men；　martyrs　to

their　own　faculty。　This　noble　compassion；　this　intuition　of　the

struggles　of　toilers；　this　worship　of　genius；　are　among　the　choicest

perceptions　that　flutter　through　the　souls　of　women。　They　are；　in　the

first　place；　a　secret　between　the　woman　and　God；　for　they　are　hidden；

in　them　there　is　nothing　striking；　nothing　that　gratifies　the　vanity；

that　powerful　auxiliary　to　all　action　among　the　French。



Out　of　this　third　period　of　the　development　of　her　ideas；　there　came

to　Modeste　a　passionate　desire　to　penetrate　to　the　heart　of　one　of

these　abnormal　beings；　to　understand　the　working　of　the　thoughts　and

the　hidden　griefs　of　genius；to　know　not　only　what　it　wanted　but　what

it　was。　At　the　period　when　this　story　begins；　these　vagaries　of　fancy；

these　excursions　of　her　soul　into　the　void；　these　feelers　put　forth

into　the　darkness　of　the　future；　the　impatience　of　an　ungiven　love　to

find　its　goal；　the　nobility　of　all　her　thoughts　of　life；　the　decision

of　her　mind　to　suffer　in　a　sphere　of　higher　things　rather　than

flounder　in　the　marshes　of　provincial　life　like　her　mother；　the　pledge

she　had　made　to　herself　never　to　fail　in　conduct；　but　to　respect　her

father's　hearth　and　bring　it　happiness；all　this　world　of　feeling　and

sentiment　had　lately　come　to　a　climax　and　taken　shape。　Modeste　wished

to　be　the　friend　and　companion　of　a　poet；　an　artist；　a　man　in　some　way

superior　to　the　crowd　of　men。　But　she　intended　to　choose　him；not　to

give　him　her　heart；　her　life；　her　infinite　tenderness　freed　from　the

trammels　of　passion；　until　she　had　carefully　and　deeply　studied　him。



She　began　this　pretty　romance　by　simply　enjoying　it。　Profound

tranquillity　settled　down　upon　her　soul。　Her　cheeks　took　on　a　soft

color；　and　she　became　the　beautiful　and　noble　image　of　Germany；　such

as　we　have　lately　seen　her；　the　glory　of　the　Chalet；　the　pride　of

Madame　Latournelle　and　the　Dumays。　Modeste　was　living　a　double

existence。　She　performed　with　humble；　loving　care　all　the　minute

duties　o