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The Duchesse de Langeais-Part23_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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"Couldn't we find some good fellow in the family to pick a



quarrel with this Montriveau?" said the Vidame, as they went

downstairs.



When the two women were alone, the Princess beckoned her niece to

a little low chair by her side.



"My pearl," said she, "in this world below, I know nothing

worse calumniated than God and the eighteenth century; for as I



look back over my own young days, I do not recollect that a

single duchess trampled the proprieties underfoot as you have



just done. Novelists and scribblers brought the reign of Louis

XV into disrepute. Do not believe them. The du Barry, my dear,



was quite as good as the Widow Scarron, and the more agreeable

woman of the two. In my time a woman could keep her dignity



among her gallantries. Indiscretion was the ruin of us, and the

beginning of all the mischief. The philosophists--the nobodies



whom we admitted into our salons--had no more gratitude or sense

of decency than to make an inventory of our hearts, to traduce us



one and all, and to rail against the age by way of a return for

our kindness. The people are not in a position to judge of



anything whatsoever; they looked at the facts, not at the form.

But the men and women of those times, my heart, were quite as



remarkable as at any other period of the Monarchy. Not one of

your Werthers, none of your notabilities, as they are called,



never a one of your men in yellow kid gloves and trousers that

disguise the poverty of their legs, would cross Europe in the



dress of a travelling hawker to brave the daggers of a Duke of

Modena, and to shut himself up in the dressing-room of the



Regent's daughter at the risk of his life. Not one of your

little consumptive patients with their tortoiseshell eyeglasses



would hide himself in a closet for six weeks, like Lauzun, to

keep up his mistress's courage while she was lying in of her



child. There was more passion in M. de Jaucourt's little finger

than in your whole race of higglers that leave a woman to better



themselves elsewhere! Just tell me where to find the page that

would be cut in pieces and buried under the floorboards for one



kiss on the Konigsmark's gloved finger!

"Really, it would seem today that the roles are exchanged, and



women are expected to show their devotion for men. These modern

gentlemen are worth less, and think more of themselves. Believe



me, my dear, all these adventures that have been made public, and

now are turned against our good Louis XV, were kept quite secret



at first. If it had not been for a pack of poetasters,

scribblers, and moralists, who hung about our waiting-women, and



took down their slanders, our epoch would have appeared in

literature as a well-conducted age. I am justifying the century



and not its fringe. Perhaps a hundred women of quality were

lost; but for every one, the rogues set down ten, like the



gazettes after a battle when they count up the losses of the

beaten side. And in any case I do not know that the Revolution



and the Empire can reproach us; they were coarse, dull,

licentious times. Faugh! it is revolting. Those are the



brothels of French history.

"This preamble, my dear child," she continued after a pause,



"brings me to the thing that I have to say. If you care for

Montriveau, you are quite at liberty to love him at your ease,



and as much as you can. I know by experience that, unless you

are locked up (but locking people up is out of fashion now), you



will do as you please; I should have done the same at your age.

Only, sweetheart, I should not have given up my right to be the



mother of future Ducs de Langeais. So mind appearances. The

Vidame is right. No man is worth a single one of the sacrifices



which we are foolish enough to make for their love. Put yourself

in such a position that you may still be M. de Langeais's wife,



in case you should have the misfortune to repent. When you are

an old woman, you will be very glad to hear mass said at Court,



and not in some provincialconvent. Therein lies the whole

question. A single imprudence means an allowance and a wandering



life; it means that you are at the mercy of your lover; it means

that you must put up with insolence from women that are not so



honest, precisely because they have been very vulgarly

sharp-witted. It would be a hundred times better to go to



Montriveau's at night in a cab, and disguised, instead of sending

your carriage in broad daylight. You are a little fool, my dear



child! Your carriage flattered his vanity; your person would

have ensnared his heart. All this that I have said is just and






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