dwell on that pure time of youth when the mouth is innocent of

falsehood; when the glance of the eye is honest, though veiled by lids
which droop from timidity contradicting desire; when the soul bends

not to worldly Jesuitism, and the heart throbs as violently from
trepidation as from the generous impulses of young emotion.

I need say nothing of the journey I made with my mother from Paris to
Tours. The coldness of her behavior repressed me. At each relay I

tried to speak; but a look, a word from her frightened away the
speeches I had been meditating. At Orleans, where we had passed the

night, my mother complained of my silence. I threw myself at her feet
and clasped her knees; with tears I opened my heart. I tried to touch

hers by the eloquence of my hungry love in accents that might have
moved a stepmother. She replied that I was playing comedy. I

complained that she had abandoned me. She called me an unnatural
child. My whole nature was so wrung that at Blois I went upon the

bridge to drown myself in the Loire. The height of the parapet
prevented my suicide.

When I reached home, my two sisters, who did not know me, showed more
surprise than tenderness. Afterwards, however, they seemed, by

comparison, to be full of kindness towards me. I was given a room on
the third story. You will understand the extent of my hardships when I

tell you that my mother left me, a young man of twenty, without other
linen than my miserable school outfit, or any other outside clothes

than those I had long worn in Paris. If I ran from one end of the room
to the other to pick up her handkerchief, she took it with the cold

thanks a lady gives to her footman. Driven to watch her to find if
there were any soft spot where I could fasten the rootlets of

affection, I came to see her as she was,--a tall, spare woman, given
to cards, egotistical and insolent, like all the Listomeres, who count

insolence as part of their dowry. She saw nothing in life except
duties to be fulfilled. All cold women whom I have known made, as she

did, a religion of duty; she received our homage as a priest receives
the incense of the mass. My elder brother appeared to absorb the

trifling sentiment of maternity which was in her nature. She stabbed
us constantly with her sharp irony,--the weapon of those who have no

heart,--and which she used against us, who could make her no reply.
Notwithstanding these thorny hindrances, the instinctive" target="_blank" title="a.本能的，天性的">instinctivesentiments

have so many roots, the religious fear inspired by a mother whom it is
dangerous to displease holds by so many threads, that the sublime

mistake--if I may so call it--of our love for our mother lasted until
the day, much later in our lives, when we judged her finally. This

terrible despotism drove from my mind all thoughts of the voluptuous
enjoyments I had dreamed of finding at Tours. In despair I took refuge

in my father's library, where I set myself to read every book I did
not know. These long periods of hard study saved me from contact with

my mother; but they aggravated the dangers of my moral condition.
Sometimes my eldest sister--she who afterwards married our cousin, the

Marquis de Listomere--tried to comfort me, without, however, being
able to calm the irritation to which I was a victim. I desired to die.

Great events, of which I knew nothing, were then in preparation. The
Duc d'Angouleme, who had left Bordeaux to join Louis XVIII. in Paris,

was received in every town through which he passed with ovations
inspired by the enthusiasm felt throughout old France at the return of

the Bourbons. Touraine was aroused for its legitimate princes; the
town itself was in a flutter, every window decorated, the inhabitants

in their Sunday clothes, a festival in preparation, and that nameless
excitement in the air which intoxicates, and which gave me a strong

desire to be present at the ball given by the duke. When I summoned
courage to make this request of my mother, who was too ill to go

herself, she became extremely angry. "Had I come from Congo?" she
inquired. "How could I suppose that our family would not be

represented at the ball? In the absence of my father and brother, of
course it was my duty to be present. Had I no mother? Was she not

always thinking of the welfare of her children?"
In a moment the semi-disinherited son had become a personage! I was

more dumfounded by my importance than by the deluge of ironical
reasoning with which my mother received my request. I questioned my

sisters, and then discovered that my mother, who liked such theatrical
plots, was already attending to my clothes. The tailors in Tours were

fully occupied by the sudden demands of their regular customers, and
my mother was forced to employ her usual seamstress, who--according to

provincial custom--could do all kinds of sewing. A bottle-blue coat
had been secretly made for me, after a fashion, and silk stockings and

pumps provided; waistcoats were then worn short, so that I could wear
one of my father's; and for the first time in my life I had a shirt

with a frill, the pleatings of which puffed out my chest and were
gathered in to the knot of my cravat. When dressed in this apparel I

looked so little like myself that my sister's compliments nerved me to
face all Touraine at the ball. But it was a bold enterprise. Thanks to

my slimness I slipped into a tent set up in the gardens of the Papion
house, and found a place close to the armchair in which the duke was

seated. Instantly I was suffocated by the heat, and dazzled by the
lights, the scarlet draperies, the gilded ornaments, the dresses, and

the diamonds of the first public ball I had ever witnessed. I was
pushed hither and thither by a mass of men and women, who hustled each

other in a cloud of dust. The brazen clash of military music was
drowned in the hurrahs and acclamations of "Long live the Duc

d'Angouleme! Long live the King! Long live the Bourbons!" The ball was
an outburst of pent-up enthusiasm, where each man endeavored to outdo

the rest in his fierce haste to worship the rising sun,--an exhibition
of partisan greed which left me unmoved, or rather, it disgusted me

and drove me back within myself.
Swept onward like a straw in the whirlwind, I was seized with a

childish desire to be the Duc d'Angouleme himself, to be one of these
princes parading before an awed assemblage. This silly fancy of a

Tourangean lad roused an ambition to which my nature and the
surrounding circumstances lent dignity. Who would not envy such

worship?--a magnificentrepetition of which I saw a few months later,
when all Paris rushed to the feet of the Emperor on his return from

Elba. The sense of this dominion exercised over the masses, whose
feelings and whose very life are thus merged into one soul, dedicated

me then and thenceforth to glory, that priestess who slaughters the
Frenchmen of to-day as the Druidess once sacrificed the Gauls.

Suddenly I met the woman who was destined to spur these ambitious
desires and to crown them by sending me into the heart of royalty. Too

timid to ask any one to dance,--fearing, moreover, to confuse the
figures,--I naturally became very awkward, and did not know what to do

with my arms and legs. Just as I was sufferingseverely from the
pressure of the crowd an officer stepped on my feet, swollen by the

new leather of my shoes as well as by the heat. This disgusted me with
the whole affair. It was impossible to get away; but I took refuge in

a corner of a room at the end of an empty bench, where I sat with
fixed eyes, motionless" target="_blank" title="a.静止的；固定的">motionless and sullen. Misled by my puny appearance, a

woman--taking me for a sleepy child--slid softly into the place beside
me, with the motion of a bird as she drops upon her nest. Instantly I

breathed the woman-atmosphere, which irradiated my soul as, in after
days, oriental poesy has shone there. I looked at my neighbor, and was

more dazzled by that vision than I had been by the scene of the fete.
If you have understood this history of my early life you will guess

the feelings which now welled up within me. My eyes rested suddenly on
white, rounded shoulders where I would fain have laid my head,--

shoulders faintly rosy, which seemed to blush as if uncovered for the
first time; modest shoulders, that possessed a soul, and reflected

light from their satin surface as from a silkentexture. These
shoulders were parted by a line along which my eyes wandered. I raised

myself to see the bust and was spell-bound by the beauty of the bosom,
chastely covered with gauze, where blue-veined globes of perfect

outline were softlyhidden in waves of lace. The slightest details of
the head were each and all enchantments which awakened infinite

delights within me; the brilliancy of the hair laid smoothly above a
neck as soft and velvety as a child's, the white lines drawn by the

comb where my imagination ran as along a dewy path,--all these things
put me, as it were, beside myself. Glancing round to be sure that no

one saw me, I threw myself upon those shoulders as a child upon the
breast of its mother, kissing them as I laid my head there. The woman

uttered a piercing cry, which the noise of the music drowned; she
turned, saw me, and exclaimed, "Monsieur!" Ah! had she said, "My

little lad, what possesses you?" I might have killed her; but at the
word "Monsieur!" hot tears fell from my eyes. I was petrified by a

glance of saintly anger, by a noble face crowned with a diadem of
golden hair in harmony with the shoulders I adored. The crimson of

offended modesty glowed on her cheeks, though already it was appeased
by the pardoning instinct of a woman who comprehends a frenzy which

she inspires, and divines the infiniteadoration of those repentant
tears. She moved away with the step and carriage of a queen.

I then felt the ridicule of my position; for the first time I realized
that I was dressed like the monkey of a barrel organ. I was ashamed.

There I stood, stupefied,--tasting the fruit that I had stolen,
conscious of the warmth upon my lips, repenting not, and following