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The Princess of Cleves-Part17_Madame de La Fayette(1643-1693)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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Monsieur de Cleves was obliged to go, and had only time to tell



his wife that he desired her to come to Paris the next day; and

that he conjured her to believe, that however afflicted he was,



he had a tenderness and esteem for her, with which she ought to

be satisfied.



When he was gone, and Madam de Cleves being alone, considered

what she had done, she was so frightened at the thought of it,



she could hardly believe it to be true. She found she had

deprived herself of the heart and esteem of her husband, and was



involved in a labyrinth she should never get out of; she asked

herself why she had ventured on so dangerous a step, and



perceived she was engaged in it almost without having designed

it; the singularity of such a confession, for which she saw no



precedent, made her fully sensible of her danger.

But on the other hand, when she came to think that this remedy,



however violent it was, was the only effectual one she could make

use of against Monsieur de Nemours, she found she had no cause to



repent, or to believe she had ventured too far; she passed the

whole night full of doubts, anxiety and fear; but at last her



spirits grew calm again; she even felt a pleasure arise in her

mind, from a sense of having given such a proof of fidelity to a



husband who deserved it so well, who had so great a friendship

and esteem for her, and had so lately manifested it by the manner



in which he received the confession she had made him.

In the meantime Monsieur de Nemours was gone away from the place,



in which he had overheard a conversation which so sensibly

affected him, and was got deep into the forest; what Madam de



Cleves said of her picture had revived him, since it was certain

from thence that he was the person she had an inclination for; at



first he gave a leap of joy, but his raptures were at an end as

soon as he began to reflect, that the same thing that convinced



him he had touched the heart of Madam de Cleves, ought to

convince him also that he should never receive any marks of it,



and that it would be impossible to engage a lady who had recourse

to so extraordinary a remedy; and yet he could not but be



sensibly pleased to have reduced her to that extremity; he

thought it glorious for him to have gained the affections of a



woman so different from the rest of her sex; in a word, he

thought himself very happy and very unhappy at the same time. He



was benighted in the forest, and was very much put to it to find

his way again to his sister's the Duchess of Mercoeur; he arrived



there at break of day, and was extremely at a loss what account

to give of his absence, but he made out the matter as well as he



could, and returned that very day to Paris with the Viscount.

The Duke was so taken up with his passion, and so surprised at



the conversation he had heard, that he fell into an indiscretion

very common, which is, to speak one's own particular sentiments



in general terms, and to relate one's proper adventures under

borrowed names. As they were travelling he began to talk of



love, and exaggerated the pleasure of being in love with a person

that deserved it; he spoke of the fantastical effects of this



passion, and at last not being able to contain within himself the

admiration he was in at the action of Madam de Cleves, he related



it to the Viscount without naming the person, or owning he had

any share in it; but he told it with so much warmth and surprise,



that the Viscount easily suspected the story concerned himself.

The Viscount urged him very much to confess it, and told him he



had known a great while that he was violently in love, and that

it was unjust in him to show a distrust of a man who had



committed to him a secret on which his life depended. The Duke

de Nemours was too much in love to own it, and had always



concealed it from the Viscount, though he valued him the most of

any man at Court; he answered that one of his friends had told



him this adventure, and made him promise not to speak of it; and

he also conjured the Viscount to keep the secret: the Viscount



assured him he would say nothing of it but notwithstanding

Monsieur de Nemours repented that he had told him so much.



In the meantime Monsieur de Cleves was gone to the King, with a

heart full of sorrow and affliction. Never had husband so



violent a passion for his wife, or so great an esteem; what she

had told him did not take away his esteem of her, but made it of






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