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The Lily of the Valley-Part13_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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love. This inward repulsion made me understand the martyrdom of women

of generous souls yoked to men whose meannesses they bury daily.



Respect is a safeguard which protects both great and small alike; each

side can hold its own. I was respectful to the duchess because of my



youth; but where others saw only a duchess I saw the mother of my

Henriette, and that gave sanctity to my homage.



We reached the great court-yard of Frapesle, where we found the

others. The Comte de Mortsauf presented me very gracefully to the



duchess, who examined me with a cold and reserved air. Madame de

Lenoncourt was then a woman fifty-six years of age, wonderfully well



preserved and with grand manners. When I saw the hard blue eyes, the

hollow temples, the thin emaciated face, the erect, imposing figure



slow of movement, and the yellow whiteness of the skin (reproduced

with such brilliancy in the daughter), I recognized the cold type to



which my own mother belonged, as quickly as a mineralogist recognizes

Swedish iron. Her language was that of the old court; she pronounced



the "oit" like "ait," and said "frait" for "froid," "porteux" for

"porteurs." I was not a courtier, neither was I stiff-backed in my



manner to her; in fact I behaved so well that as I passed the countess

she said in a low voice, "You are perfect."



The count came to me and took my hand, saying: "You are not angry with

me, Felix, are you? If I was hasty you will pardon an old soldier? We



shall probably stay here to dinner, and I invite you to dine with us

on Thursday, the evening before the duchess leaves. I must go to Tours



to-morrow to settle some business. Don't neglect Clochegourde. My

mother-in-law is an acquaintance I advise you to cultivate. Her salon



will set the tone for the faubourg St. Germain. She has all the

traditions of the great world, and possesses an immenseamount of



social knowledge; she knows the blazon of the oldest as well as the

newest family in Europe."



The count's good taste, or perhaps the advice of his domesticgenius,

appeared under his altered circumstances. He was neither arrogant nor



offensively polite, nor pompous in any way, and the duchess was not

patronizing. Monsieur and Madame de Chessel gratefully accepted the



invitation to dinner on the following Thursday. I pleased the duchess,

and by her glance I knew she was examining a man of whom her daughter



had spoken to her. As we returned from vespers she questioned me about

my family, and asked if the Vandenesse now in diplomacy was my



relative. "He is my brother," I replied. On that she became almost

affectionate. She told me that my great-aunt, the old Marquise de



Listomere, was a Grandlieu. Her manners were as cordial as those of

Monsieur de Mortsauf the day he saw me for the first time; the haughty



glance with which these sovereigns of the earth make you measure the

distance that lies between you and them disappeared. I knew almost



nothing of my family. The duchess told me that my great-uncle, an old

abbe whose very name I did not know, was to be member of the privy



council, that my brother was already promoted, and also that by a

provision of the Charter, of which I had not yet heard, my father



became once more Marquis de Vandenesse.

"I am but one thing, the serf of Clochegourde," I said in a low voice



to the countess.

The transformation scene of the Restoration was carried through with a



rapidity which bewildered the generation brought up under the imperial

regime. To me this revolution meant nothing. The least word or gesture



from Madame de Mortsauf were the sole events to which I attached

importance. I was ignorant of what the privy council was, and knew as



little of politics as of social life; my sole ambition was to love

Henriette better than Petrarch loved Laura. This indifference made the



duchess take me for a child. A large company assembled at Frapesle and

we were thirty at table. What intoxication it is for a young man



unused to the world to see the woman he loves more beautiful than all

others around her, the centre of admiring looks; to know that for him



alone is reserved the chaste fire of those eyes, that none but he can

discern in the tones of that voice, in the words it utters, however






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