beautiful illusions of its youth. But of this
radiantexistence not a
gleam reached the surface of daily life; it escaped the ken of Dumay
and his wife and the Latournelles; the ears of the blind mother alone
caught the crackling of its flame.
The
profounddisdain which Modeste now conceived for ordinary men gave
to her face a look of pride, an inexpressible untamed shyness, which
tempered her Teutonic
simplicity, and accorded well with a peculiarity
of her head. The hair growing in a point above the
forehead seemed the
continuation of a slight line which thought had already furrowed
between the eyebrows, and made the expression of untameability perhaps
a shade too strong. The voice of this
charming child, whom her father,
delighting in her wit, was wont to call his "little
proverb of
Solomon," had acquired a precious flexibility of organ through the
practice of three languages. This
advantage was still further enhanced
by a natural bell-like tone both sweet and fresh, which touched the
heart as
delightfully as it did the ear. If the mother could no longer
see the signs of a noble
destiny upon her daughter's brow, she could
study the transitions of her soul's development in the accents of that
voice attuned to love.
CHAPTER VI
A MAIDEN'S FIRST ROMANCE
To this period of Modeste's eager rage for
reading succeeded the
exercise of a strange
faculty given to
vigorousimaginations,--the
power,
namely, of making herself an actor in a dream-
existence; of
representing to her own mind the things desired, with so vivid a
conception that they seemed
actually" target="_blank" title="ad.事实上;实际上">
actually to
attainreality; in short, to
enjoy by thought,--to live out her years within her mind; to marry; to
grow old; to attend her own
funeral like Charles V.; to play within
herself the
comedy of life and, if need be, that of death. Modeste was
indeed playing, but all alone, the
comedy of Love. She fancied herself
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
painfulexistence, 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
magnificentestate 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