Notwithstanding his wife's attentions, he found no food to suit him,
his
stomach being, he said, impaired, and
digestion so
painful as to
keep him awake all night. In spite of this he ate, drank, digested,
and slept, in a manner to satisfy any doctor. His capricious will
exhausted the
patience of the servants, accustomed to the
beaten track
of
domestic service and
unable to
conform to the requirements of his
conflicting orders. Sometimes he bade them keep all the windows open,
declaring that his health required a current of fresh air; a few days
later the fresh air, being too hot or too damp, as the case might be,
became
intolerable; then he scolded, quarrelled with the servants, and
in order to justify himself, denied his former orders. This
defect of
memory, or this bad faith, call it which you will, always carried the
day against his wife in the arguments by which she tried to pit him
against himself. Life at Clochegourde had become so
intolerable that
the Abbe Dominis, a man of great
learning, took
refuge in the study of
scientific problems, and
withdrew into the shelter of pretended
abstraction. The
countess had no longer any hope of hiding the secret
of these
insane furies within the
circle of her own home; the servants
had witnessed scenes of exasperation without exciting cause, in which
the premature old man passed the bounds of reason. They were, however,
so
devoted to the
countess that nothing so far had transpired outside;
but she dreaded daily some public
outburst of a
frenzy no longer
controlled by respect for opinion.
Later I
learned the
dreadful details of the count's
treatment of his
wife. Instead of supporting her when the children were ill, he
assailed her with dark
predictions and made her
responsible for all
future illnesses, because she refused to let the children take the
crazy doses which he prescribed. When she went to walk with them the
count would
predict a storm in the face of a clear sky; if by chance
the
prediction proved true, the
satisfaction he felt made him quite
indifferent to any harm to the children. If one of them was ailing,
the count gave his whole mind to
fastening" target="_blank" title="n.(门等)扣绊,拴扣物">
fastening the cause of the illness
upon the
system of nursing adopted by his wife, whom he carped at for
every
trifling detail, always
ending with the cruel words, "If your
children fall ill again you have only yourself to thank for it."
He behaved in the same way in the
management of the household, seeing
the worst side of everything, and making himself, as his old coachman
said, "the devil's own advocate." The
countess arranged that Jacques
and Madeleine should take their meals alone at different hours from
the family, so as to save them from the count's
outbursts and draw all
the storms upon herself. In this way the children now saw but little
of their father. By one of the hallucinations
peculiar to
selfishpersons, the count had not the slightest idea of the
misery he caused.
In the
confidentialcommunication he made to me on my
arrival he
particularly dwelt on his
goodness to his family. He wielded the
flail, beat, bruised, and broke everything about him as a
monkey might
have done. Then, having half-destroyed his prey, he denied having
touched it. I now understood the lines on Henriette's forehead,--fine
lines, traced as it were with the edge of a razor, which I had noticed
the moment I saw her. There is a pudicity in noble minds which
withholds them from
speaking of their personal
sufferings; proudly
they hide the
extent of their woes from hearts that love them, feeling
a
merciful joy in doing so. Therefore in spite of my urgency, I did
not immediately
obtain the truth from Henriette. She feared to grieve
me; she made brief admissions, and then blushed for them; but I soon
perceived myself the increase of trouble which the count's present
want of regular
occupation had brought upon the household.
"Henriette," I said, after I had been there some days, "don't you
think you have made a mistake in so arranging the
estate that the
count has no longer anything to do?"
"Dear," she said, smiling, "my situation is
critical enough to take
all my attention; believe me, I have considered all my resources, and
they are now exhausted. It is true that the bickerings are getting
worse and worse. As Monsieur de Mortsauf and I are always together, I
cannot
lessen them by diverting his attention in other directions; in
fact the pain would be the same to me in any case. I did think of
advising him to start a
nursery for silk-worms at Clochegourde, where
we have many mulberry-trees, remains of the old industry of Touraine.
But I reflected that he would still be the same
tyrant at home, and I
should have many more annoyances through the
enterprise. You will
learn, my dear
observer, that in youth a man's ill qualities are
restrained by society, checked in their swing by the play of passions,
subdued under the fear of public opinion; later, a
middle-aged man,
living in
solitude, shows his native
defects, which are all the more
terrible because so long repressed. Human
weaknesses are essentially
base; they allow of neither peace nor truce; what you yield to them
to-day they exact to-morrow, and always; they
fasten on concessions
and compel more of them. Power, on the other hand, is
merciful; it
conforms to evidence, it is just and it is
peaceable. But the passions
born of
weakness are implacable. Monsieur de Mortsauf takes an
absolute pleasure in getting the better of me; and he who would
deceive no one else, deceives me with delight."
One morning as we left the breakfast table, about a month after my
arrival, the
countess took me by the arm, darted through an iron gate
which led into the
vineyard, and dragged me
hastily among the vines.
"He will kill me!" she cried. "And I want to live--for my children's
sake. But oh! not a day's
respite! Always to walk among thorns! to
come near falling every
instant! every
instant to have to
summon all
my strength to keep my balance! No human being can long
endure such
strain upon the
system. If I were certain of the ground I ought to
take, if my
resistance" target="_blank" title="n.抵抗;抵制;耐力">
resistance could be a settled thing, then my mind might
concentrate upon it--but no, every day the attacks change character
and leave me without defence; my sorrows are not one, they are
manifold. Ah! my friend--" she cried, leaning her head upon my
shoulder, and not continuing her confidence. "What will become of me?
Oh, what shall I do?" she said
presently, struggling with thoughts she
did not express. "How can I
resist? He will kill me! No, I will kill
myself--but that would be a crime! Escape? yes, but my children!
Separate from him? how, after fifteen years of marriage, how could I
ever tell my parents that I will not live with him? for if my father
and mother came here he would be calm,
polite,
intelligent, judicious.
Besides, can married women look to fathers or mothers? Do they not
belong body and soul to their husbands? I could live
tranquil if not
happy--I have found strength in my
chastesolitude, I admit it; but if
I am deprived of this
negative happiness I too shall become
insane. My
resistance" target="_blank" title="n.抵抗;抵制;耐力">
resistance is based on powerful reasons which are not personal to
myself. It is a crime to give birth to poor creatures condemned to
endless
suffering. Yet my position raises serious questions, so
serious that I dare not decide them alone; I cannot be judge and party
both. To-morrow I will go to Tours and
consult my new confessor, the
Abbe Birotteau--for my dear and
virtuous Abbe de la Berge is dead,"
she said, interrupting herself. "Though he was
severe, I miss and
shall always miss his apostolic power. His
successor is an angel of
goodness, who pities but does not reprimand. Still, all courage draws
fresh life from the heart of religion; what soul is not strengthened
by the voice of the Holy Spirit? My God," she said, drying her tears
and raising her eyes to heaven, "for what sin am I thus punished?--I
believe, yes, Felix, I believe it, we must pass through a fiery
furnace before we reach the saints, the just made perfect of the upper
spheres. Must I keep silence? Am I
forbidden, oh, my God, to cry to
the heart of a friend? Do I love him too well?" She pressed me to her
heart as though she feared to lose me. "Who will solve my doubts? My
conscience does not
reproach me. The stars shine from above on men;
may not the soul, the human star, shed its light upon a friend, if we
go to him with pure thoughts?"
I listened to this
dreadful cry in silence,
holding her moist hand in
mine that was still more moist. I pressed it with a force to which
Henriette replied with an equal pressure.
"Where are you?" cried the count, who came towards us, bareheaded.
Ever since my return he had insisted on sharing our interviews,--
either because he wanted
amusement, or feared the
countess would tell
me her sorrows and
complain to me, or because he was
jealous of a
pleasure he did not share.
"How he follows me!" she cried, in a tone of
despair. "Let us go into
the
orchard, we shall escape him. We can stoop as we run by the hedge,
and he will not see us."
We made the hedge a
rampart and reached the
enclosure, where we were
soon at a good distance from the count in an alley of almond-trees.
"Dear Henriette," I then said to her, pressing her arm against my
heart and stopping to
contemplate her in her sorrow, "you have guided
me with true knowledge along the
perilous ways of the great world; let