Kabanata Kabanata 3 · 第3章

The next Sunday the baroness and Jeanne went to mass out of deference to

their cure, and after it was over they waited to ask him to luncheon for

the following Thursday. He came out of the vestry with a tall,

good-looking, young man who had familiarly taken his arm.

As soon as he saw the two ladies he gave a look of pleased surprise, and

exclaimed:

"What a lucky thing! Madame la baronne and Mlle. Jeanne, permit me to

present to you your neighbor, M. le Vicomte de Lamare."

The vicomte bowed, expressed the desire he had long felt to make their

acquaintance, and began to talk with the ease of a man accustomed to

good society. His face was one that women raved about and that all men

disliked. His black, curly hair fell over a smooth, bronzed forehead,

and long, regular eyebrows gave a depth and tenderness to his dark eyes.

Long, thick lashes lent to his glance the passionate eloquence which

thrills the heart of the high-born lady in her boudoir, and makes the

poor girl, with her basket on her arm, turn round in the street, and the

languorous charm of his eyes, with their whites faintly tinged with

blue, gave importance to his least word and made people believe in the

profoundness of his thought. A thick, silky beard hid a jaw which was a

little heavy.

After mutual compliments he said good-bye to the ladies; and two days

afterwards made his first call at the chateau.

He arrived just as they were looking at a rustic-seat, placed only that

morning under the big plane-tree opposite the drawing-room windows. The

baron wanted to have another one under the linden to make a pair, but

the baroness, who disliked things to be exactly symmetrical, said no.

The vicomte, on being asked his opinion, sided with the baroness.

Then he talked about the surrounding country, which he thought very

"picturesque," and about the charming "bits" he had come across in his

solitary walks. From time to time his eyes met Jeanne's, as though by

chance; and she felt a strange sensation at these sudden looks which

were quickly turned away and which expressed a lively admiration and

sympathy.

M. de Lamare's father, who had died the year before, had known an

intimate friend of M. des Cultaux, the baroness's father, and the

discovery of this mutual acquaintance gave rise to endless conversation

about marriages, births, and relationships. The baroness, with

prodigious feats of memory, talked about the ancestors and descendants

of numerous families, and traversed the complicated labyrinths of

different genealogies without ever losing herself.

"Tell me, vicomte, have you ever heard of the Saunoys de Varfleur?

Gontran, the elder son, married Mademoiselle de Coursil, one of the

Coursil-Courvilles; and the younger married a cousin of mine,

Mademoiselle de la Roche-Aubert, who was related to the Crisanges. Now,

M. de Crisange was an intimate friend of my father, and no doubt knew

yours also."

"Yes, madame; was it not the M. de Crisange who emigrated, and whose son

ruined himself?"

"That is the very man. He had proposed for my aunt after the death of

her husband, the Comte d'Eretry, but she would not accept him because he

took snuff. By the way, do you know what has become of the Viloises?

They left Touraine about 1813, after a reverse of fortune, to go and

live in Auvergne; and I have never heard anything of them since."

"I believe, madame, that the old marquis was killed by a fall from a

horse, leaving one daughter married to an Englishman, and the other to a

rich merchant who had seduced her."

Names they had heard their parents mention when they were children

returned to their minds, and the marriages of these people seemed as

important to them as great public events. They talked about men and

women they had never seen as if they knew them well, and these people,

living so far away, talked about them in the same manner, and they felt

as though they were acquainted with each other, almost as if they were

friends, or relations, simply because they belonged to the same class

and were of equal rank.

The baron was rather unsociable, his philosophic views disagreeing with

the beliefs and prejudices of the people of his own rank, did not know

any of the families living near, and asked the vicomte about them.

"Oh, there are very good families around here," answered M. de Lamare,

in the same tone as he would have said that there were not many rabbits

on the hills, and he entered into details about them.

There were only three families of rank in the neighborhood; the Marquis

de Coutelier, the head of the Normandy aristocracy; the Vicomte and

Vicomtesse de Briseville, people who were very well-born but held

themselves rather aloof; and lastly, the Comte de Fourville, a sort of

fire-eater who was said to be worrying his wife to death, and who lived

in the Chateau de la Vrillette, which was built on a lake, passing his

time in hunting and shooting. A few parvenus had bought property in the

neighborhood, but the vicomte did not know them.

He rose to go, and his last look was for Jeanne as though he would have

made his adieu to her specially friendly and tender.

The baroness thought him charming and very _comme il faut_, and the

baron remarked that he was a very well-educated man. He was asked to

dinner the following week, and after that he visited the chateau

regularly.

Generally he came about four o'clock, joined the baroness in "her

avenue," and insisted on her leaning on his arm to take "her exercise."

When Jeanne was at home she supported her mother on the other side and

all three walked slowly up and down the long path. He did not talk to

the young girl but often his dark, velvety eyes met Jeanne's, which were

like blue agate.

Sometimes they walked down to Yport with the baron, and one evening, as

they were standing on the beach, old Lastique came up to them, and,

without taking his pipe from his mouth, for it would have been stranger

to see him without his pipe than without his nose, said:

"With this wind, M'sieu l'baron, you'd be able to go to Etretat and back

to-morrow quite easily."

Jeanne clasped her hands together; "Oh, papa! If only you would!"

The baron turned to M. de Lamare.

"Will you go, vicomte? We could have lunch over there." And the

excursion was planned for the following day.

The next morning Jeanne was up at daybreak. She waited for her father,

who took longer to dress, and then they walked over the dewy plain and

through the wood filled with the sweet song of the birds, down to Yport,

where they found the vicomte and old Lastique sitting on the capstan of

their little vessel.

Two sailors helped to start the boat, by putting their shoulders to the

sides and pushing with all their might. It was hard to move over the

level part of the beach, and Lastique slipped rollers of greased wood

under the keel, then went back to his place and drawled out his long

"Heave oh!" which was the signal for them all to push together, and when

they came to the slant of the beach, the boat set off all at once,

sliding over the round pebbles, and making a grating noise like the

tearing of linen. It stopped short at the edge of the waves and they all

got in, except the two sailors, who pushed the boat off.

A light, steady breeze blowing towards the land just ruffled the surface

of the water. The sail was hoisted, filled out a little, and the boat

moved gently along hardly rocked by the waves.

At first they sailed straight out to sea. At the horizon the sky could

not be distinguished from the ocean; on land the high steep cliff had a

deep shadow at its foot. Behind could be seen the brown sails of the

boats leaving the white pier of Fecamp, and before lay a rounded rock

with a hole right through it, looking like an elephant thrusting its

trunk into the water.

Jeanne, feeling a little dizzied by the rocking of the boat, sat holding

one side with her hand, and looking out to sea; light, space and the

ocean seemed to her to be the only really beautiful things in creation.

No one spoke. From time to time old Lastique, who was steering, drank

something out of a bottle placed within his reach under the seat. He

smoked his stump of a pipe which seemed unextinguishable, and a small

cloud of blue smoke went up from it while another issued from the corner

of his mouth; he was never seen to relight the clay bowl, which was

colored blacker than ebony, or to refill it with tobacco, and he only

removed the pipe from his mouth to eject the brown saliva.

The baron sat in the bows and managed the sail, performing the duties of

a sailor, and Jeanne and the vicomte were side by side, both feeling a

little agitated. Their glances were continually meeting, a hidden

sympathy making them raise their eyes at the same moment, for there was

already that vague, subtle fondness between them which springs up so

quickly between two young people when the youth is good-looking and the

girl is pretty. They felt happy at being close together, perhaps because

each was thinking of the other.

The sun rose higher in the sky as if to consider from a better vantage

point the vast sea stretched out beneath him, while the latter, like a

coquette, enveloped herself in a light mist which veiled her from his

rays. It was a transparent golden haze which hid nothing but softened

everything. It gradually melted away before the sun's flaming darts, and

when the full heat of the day began it disappeared entirely, and the

sea, smooth as glass, lay glittering in the sun.

Jeanne murmured enthusiastically, "How lovely it is!"

The vicomte answered "Yes, it is indeed beautiful." And their hearts

felt as bright as the clear morning itself.

Suddenly, looking as if the cliff bestrode part of the sea, appeared the

great arcades of Etretat, high enough for a ship to pass underneath him

without the point of a sharp white rock rising out of the water before

the first one.

When they reached the shore, the vicomte lifted Jeanne out that she

should not wet her feet in landing, while the baron held the boat close

to the beach with a rope; then they went up the steep, shingly beach

side by side, both agitated by this short embrace, and they heard old

Lastique say to the baron:

"In my opinion they'd make a very handsome couple."

They had lunch in a little inn near the beach. On the sea they had been

quiet, but at the table they had as much to say as children let out of

school.

The most simple things gave rise to endless laughter. Old Lastique

carefully put his pipe, which was still alight, into his cap before he

sat down to table; and everyone laughed. A fly, attracted, no doubt, by

the sailor's red nose, persisted on settling on it, and when moving too

slowly to catch it he knocked it away, it went over to a very

fly-spotted curtain whence it seemed to eagerly watch the sailor's

highly-colored nasal organ, for it soon flew back and settled on it

again.

Each time the insect returned a loud laugh burst out, and when the old

man, annoyed by its tickling, murmured: "What a confoundly obstinate

fly!" Jeanne and the vicomte laughed till they cried, holding their

serviettes to their mouths to prevent themselves shrieking out loud.

When the coffee had been served Jeanne said:

"Suppose we go for a walk?"

The vicomte got up to go with her, but the baron preferred going out on

the beach to take his nap.

"You two go," he said. "You will find me here in an hour's time."

They walked straight along the road, passed a few cottages and a little

chateau which looked more like a big farm, and then found themselves in

an open valley. Jeanne had a singing in her ears, and was thrilled by a

strange sensation which she had never before experienced. Overhead was a

blazing sun, and on each side of the road lay fields of ripe corn

drooping under the heat. The feeble, continuous chirp of the swarms of

grasshoppers in the corn and hedges was the only sound to be heard, and

the sky of dazzling blue, slightly tinged with yellow, looked as though

it would suddenly turn red, like brass when it is put into a furnace.

They entered a little wood where the trees were so thick that no

sunbeams could penetrate their foliage; the grass had died from want of

light and fresh air, but the ground was covered with moss, and all

around was a cool dampness which chilled them after the heat of the sun.

"See, we could sit down over there," said Jeanne, looking around her as

they walked on.

Two trees had died, and through the break in the foliage fell a flood of

light, warming the earth, calling to life the grass and dandelion seeds,

and expanding the delicate flowers of the anemone and digitalis. A

thousand winged insects--butterflies, bees, hornets, big gnats looking

like skeleton-flies, ladybirds with red spots on them, beetles with

greenish reflections on their wings, others which were black and

horned--peopled this one warm and luminous spot in the midst of the cool

shadow of the trees.

Jeanne and the vicomte sat down with their heads in the shadow and their

feet in the light. They watched these tiny moving insects that a sunbeam

had called forth, and Jeanne said softly:

"How lovely the country is! Sometimes I wish I were a bee or a butterfly

that I might bury myself in the flowers."

They began talking about their own habits and tastes in a low,

confidential tone. He declared himself tired of his useless life,

disgusted with society; it was always the same, one never found any

truth, any sincerity. She would have liked to know what town-life was

like but she was convinced beforehand that society would never be so

pleasant as a country-life.

The nearer their hearts drew to one another the more studiously did they

address each other as "monsieur" and "mademoiselle"; but they could not

help their eyes smiling and their glances meeting, and it seemed to them

that new and better feelings were entering their hearts, making them

ready to love and take an interest in things they had before cared

nothing about.

When they returned from their walk they found that the baron had gone to

a cave formed in the cliff, called the Chambre aux Desmoiselles, so they

waited for him at the inn, where he did not appear till five o'clock,

and then they started to go home. The boat glided along so smoothly that

it hardly seemed to be moving; the wind came in gentle puffs filling the

sail one second only to let it flap loosely against the mast the next,

and the tired sun was slowly approaching the sea. The stillness around

made them all silent for a long while, but at last Jeanne said:

"How I should like to travel!"

"Yes, but it would be rather dull traveling alone," said the vicomte.

"You want a companion to whom you could confide your impressions."

"That is true," she answered thoughtfully; "still, I like to go for long

walks alone. When there is no one with me I build such castles in the

air."

"But two people can better still plan out a happy future," he said,

looking her full in the face.

Her eyes fell; did he mean anything? She gazed at the horizon as though

she would look beyond it; then she said slowly:

"I should like to go to Italy--and to Greece--and to Corsica, it must

be so wild and so beautiful there."

He preferred the chalets and lakes of Switzerland.

She said: "No, I should like to go either to a country with little or no

history like Corsica, or else to one with very old associations like

Greece. It must be so interesting to find the traces of those nations

whose history one has known from childhood, and to see the places where

such great and noble deeds were done."

"Well, for my part, I should like to go to England; it is such an

instructive country," said the vicomte, who was more practical than

Jeanne.

Then they discussed the beauties of every country from the poles to the

equator, and went into raptures over the unconventional customs of such

nations as the Chinese or the Laplanders; but they came to the

conclusion that the most beautiful land in the world is France, with her

temperate climate--cool in summer and warm in winter--her fertile

fields, her green forests, her great, calm rivers, and her culture in

the fine arts which has existed nowhere else since the palmy days of

Athens.

Silence again fell over the little party. The blood-red sun was sinking,

and a broad pathway of light lay in the wake of the boat leading right

up to the dazzling globe. The wind died out, there was not a ripple on

the water, and the motionless sail was reddened by the rays of the

setting sun. The air seemed to possess some soothing influence which

silenced everything around this meeting of the elements. The sea, like

some huge bird, awaited the fiery lover who was approaching her shining,

liquid bosom, and the sun hastened his descent, empurpled by the desire

of their embrace. At length he joined her, and gradually disappeared.

Then a freshness came from the horizon, and a breath of air rippled the

surface of the water as if the vanished sun had given a sigh of

satisfaction.

The twilight was very short, and the sky soon became came dark and

studded with stars. Lastique got out the oars, and Jeanne and the

vicomte sat side by side watching the trembling, phosphorescent glimmer

behind the boat and feeling a keen enjoyment even in breathing the cool

night air. The vicomte's fingers were resting against Jeanne's hand

which was lying on the seat, and she did not draw it away, the slight

contact making her feel happy and yet confused.

When she went to her room that evening Jeanne felt so moved that the

least thing would have made her cry. She looked at the clock and fancied

that the little bee throbbed like a friendly heart; she thought of how

it would be the silent witness of her whole life, how it would accompany

all her joys and sorrows with its quick, regular beat, and she stopped

the gilded insect to drop a kiss upon its wings. She could have kissed

anything, no matter what, and suddenly remembering an old doll she had

hidden away in the bottom of a drawer, she got it out and found as much

joy in seeing it again as if it had been an old well-loved friend.

Pressing it to her bosom she covered its painted cheeks and flaxen hair

with warm kisses, then, still holding it in her arms, she began to

think.

Was HE the husband referred to by so many inward voices, and was it by a

supremely-kind Providence that he was thus sent into her life? Was he

really the being created for her, to whom her whole existence would be

devoted? Were he and she really predestined to unite their hearts and so

beget Love? She did not yet experience those tumultuous feelings, those

wild raptures, that profound stirring of her whole soul, which she

believed to be love; still she thought she was beginning to love him,

for sometimes she felt her senses fail her when she thought of him and

she always was thinking of him. Her heart throbbed in his presence, her

color came and went when she met his glance, and the sound of his voice

sent a thrill through her. That night she hardly slept at all.

Each day her longing for love became greater. She was always consulting

the marguerites, or the clouds, or tossing a coin in the air to see

whether she was loved or not.

One evening her father said to her:

"Make yourself look very pretty to-morrow morning, Jeanne."

"Why, papa?" she asked.

"That's a secret," replied the baron.

When she came down the next morning, looking fresh and bright in a light

summer dress, she found the drawing-room table covered with bon-bon

boxes, and an enormous bouquet on a chair.

A cart turned in at the gateway with "Lerat, Confectioner, Contractor

for Wedding-breakfasts" on it, and Ludivine, with the aid of a

scullery-maid, took from it a great many flat baskets from which issued

an appetizing odor.

The vicomte came in soon after; his trousers were fastened tightly under

the varnished boots which showed off his small feet to perfection. His

tightly-fitting coat was closely fastened, except on the chest, where it

opened to show the lace shirt-frill; and a fine cravat, twisted several

times round his neck, forced him to hold up his handsome dark head. His

careful toilet made him look different from usual, and Jeanne stared at

him as though she had never seen him before; she thought he looked a

perfect gentleman from head to foot.

He bowed, and asked with a smile:

"Well, godmother, are you ready?"

"What do you mean?" stammered out Jeanne. "What is it all about?"

"Oh, you shall know just now," answered the baron.

The carriage drew up before the door and Madame Adelaide, in a handsome

dress, came downstairs leaning on Rosalie, who was struck with such

admiration at the sight of M. de Lamare's elegant appearance, that the

baron murmured:

"I say, vicomte, I think our maid likes the look of you."

The vicomte blushed up to the roots of his hair, pretended not to hear

what the baron said, and, taking up the big bouquet, presented it to

Jeanne. She took it, feeling still more astonished, and all four got

into the carriage.

"Really, madame, it looks like a wedding!" exclaimed the cook, Ludivine,

who had brought some cold broth for the baroness to have before she

started.

When they reached Yport they got out, and, as they walked through the

village, the sailors in new clothes which still showed where the cloth

had been folded, came out of the houses, touched their hats, shook the

baron by the hand, and followed behind them, forming a procession, at

the head of which walked the vicomte with Jeanne on his arm.

On arriving at the church a halt was made. A choir-boy came out carrying

a great silver cross, followed by another pink and white urchin

carrying the holy water with the brush in it; behind them came three old

choristers, one of whom limped, then the serpent-player, then the cure

in a stole with a gold cross embroidered on it. He saluted the baron's

party with a smile and a nod, then, with half-closed eyes, his lips

moving in prayer, his miter pushed down over his eyes, he followed his

surpliced subordinates down to the sea.

On the beach a crowd was waiting round a new boat decorated all over

with garlands; its mast, sail, and ropes were covered with long ribbons

which fluttered in the breeze, and its name, "Jeanne," was on the stern

in gilt letters. Old Lastique was the master of this boat that the baron

had had built, and he advanced to meet the procession.

At the sight of the cross all the men took off their caps, and a line of

nuns, enveloped in their long, straight, black mantles, knelt down. The

cure went to one end of the boat with the two choir-boys, while at the

other the three old choristers, with their dirty faces and hairy chins

shown up by their white surplices, sang at the top of their voices. Each

time they paused to take breath, the serpent-player continued his music

alone, and he blew out his cheeks till his little gray eyes could not be

seen and the very skin of his forehead and neck looked as if it was

separated from the flesh.

The calm, transparent sea, its ripples breaking on the shore with a

faint, grating noise, seemed to be watching the christening of the tiny

boat. Great, white sea-gulls flew by with outstretched wings, and then

returned over the heads of the kneeling crowd with a sweeping flight as

though they wanted to see what was going on.

The chanting stopped after an "Amen" which was repeated and sustained

for five minutes, and the priest gabbled some Latin words of which only

the sonorous terminations could be made out. Then he walked all round

the boat sprinkling it with holy water, and commenced to murmur the

oremus, stopping opposite the two sponsors, who were standing hand in

hand.

The young man's handsome face was quite calm, but the young girl, almost

suffocated by the palpitation of her heart, felt as though she should

faint, and she trembled so violently that her teeth chattered. The dream

that had haunted her for so long seemed all at once to have become a

reality. She had heard this ceremony compared to a wedding, the priest

was there uttering blessings, and surpliced men were chanting prayers;

surely she was being married!

Did the vicomte feel the nervous trembling of her fingers? Did his heart

sympathize with hers? Did he understand? did he guess? was he also under

the influence of an all-absorbing love-dream? Or was it only the

knowledge that women found him irresistible that made him press her

hand, gently at first, then harder and harder till he hurt her? Then,

without changing the expression of his face, that no one might notice

him, he said very distinctly: "Oh, Jeanne, if you liked, this might be

our betrothal!"

She slowly bent her head with a movement which perhaps meant "yes"; and

some drops of holy water fell on their hands.

The ceremony was over; the women rose from their knees, and everyone

began to hurry back. The choir-boy let the cross swing from side to

side, or tilt forward till it nearly fell; the cure, no longer praying,

hurried behind him; the choristers and the serpent-player disappeared

down a narrow turning to get back and undress quickly, the sailors

hastened past in twos and threes; a good lunch was waiting for them at

Les Peuples and the very thought of it quickened their pace and made

their mouths water.

Sixty sailors and peasants sat down to the long table laid in the

courtyard under the apple trees. The baroness sat at the middle of the

table with the cure from Yport on one side of her and the Abbe Picot on

the other; opposite her was the baron between the mayor and his wife.

The mayoress was a thin, elderly country woman with a nod for everyone;

her big Normandy cap fitted close round her thin face, making her head,

with its round, astonished-looking eyes, look like a white-tufted

fowl's, and she ate in little jerks as if she were pecking at her plate.

Jeanne was silent, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, her head turned with

joy. At last she asked the vicomte, who was sitting beside her:

"What is your Christian name?"

"Julien," he replied; "did you not know?"

She did not answer him, for she was thinking: "How often I shall repeat

that name to myself."

When lunch was over, the courtyard was left to the sailors. The baroness

began to take her exercise, leaning on the baron and accompanied by the

two priests, and Jeanne and Julien walked down to the wood, and wandered

along its little winding paths. All at once he took her hands in his.

"Tell me," he said, "will you be my wife?"

She hung her head, and he pleaded:

"Do not keep me in suspense, I implore you."

Then she slowly raised her eyes to his, and in that look he read her

answer.

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