|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 22
"I have made so many mistakes concerning you, madam, you must realize the
pitiful confusion I feel toward you."
"And in what respect have you been mistaken?"
"In all respects, I believe."
"You are not quite sure? Admit at least that I am a good-natured woman."
"Oh! with all my heart, madam!"
"You said that well. I believe you think it. You are not bad either, I
believe, and yet you have been cruelly so to me."
"That is true."
"What sort of man are you, then, pray?" resumed the Little Countess in her
brief and abrupt tone; "I cannot understand it very well. By what right,
on what ground, do you despise me? Suppose I am really guilty of all the
intrigues which are attributed to me; what is that to you? Are you a saint
yourself? a reformer? Have you never gone astray? Are you any more
virtuous than other men of your age and condition? What right have you to
despise me? Explain!"
"Were I guilty of the sentiments which you attribute to me, madam, I
should answer, that never has any one, either in your sex or mine, taken
his own morality as the rule of his opinion and his judgment upon others;
we live as we can, and we judge as we should; it is more particularly a
very frequent inconsistency among men, to frown down unmercifully the very
weaknesses which they encourage and of which they derive the benefit. For
my part, I hold severely aloof from a degree of austerity as ridiculous in
a man as uncharitable in a Christian. And as to that unfortunate
conversation which a deplorable chance caused you to hear, and in which my
expressions, as it always happens, went far beyond the measure of my
thought, it is an offense which I can never obliterate, I know; but I
shall at least explain frankly. Every one has his own tastes and his own
way of understanding life in this world; we differ so much, you and I, and
you conceived for me, at first sight, an extreme antipathy. This
disposition, which, on one side at least, madam, was to be singularly
modified on better acquaintance, prompted me to some thoughtless
manifestations of ill-humor and vivacity of controversy. You have
doubtless suffered, madam, from the violence of my language, but much
less, I beg you to believe, than I was to suffer from it myself, after I
had recognized its profound and irreparable injustice."
This apology, more sincere than lucid, drew forth no answer. We were at
this moment just coming out of the old abbey church, and we found
ourselves unexpectedly mingled in the last ranks of the cavalcade. Our
appearance caused a suppressed murmur to run through the dense crowd of
hunters. Madame de Palme was at once surrounded by a merry throng that
seemed to address congratulations to her on the winning of her wager. She
received them with an indifferent and pouting look, whipped up her horse,
and made her way to the front before entering the forest.
In the meantime, Monsieur de Malouet had received me with still more
cordial affability than usual, and without making any direct allusion to
the accident which had brought me against my will to this cynegetic feast,
he omitted no attention that could make me forget its trifling annoyance.
Soon after the hounds started a deer, and I followed them with keen
relish, being by no means indifferent to that manly pastime, though it is
not sufficient for my happiness in this world.
The pack was thrown off the scent two or three times, and the deer had the
best of the day. At about four o'clock we started on our way back to the
chateau. When we crossed the valley on our return, the twilight was
already marking out more clearly upon the sky the outline of the trees and
the crest of the hills; a melancholy shade was falling upon the woods, and
a whitish fog chilled the grass on the meadows, while a thicker mist
indicated the sinuous course of the little river. As I remained absorbed
in the contemplation of the scene which reminded me of better days, I
discovered suddenly Madame de Palme at my side.
"I believe, after due reflection," she said with her usual brusqueness,
"that you scorn my ignorance and my lack of wit much more than my supposed
want of morality. You think less of virtue than you do of intelligence. Is
that it?"
"Certainly not," I said, laughingly; "that isn't it; that isn't it at all.
In the first place, the word scorn must be suppressed, having nothing to
do here; then, I don't much believe in your ignorance, and not at all in
your lack of wit. Finally, I see nothing above virtue, when I see it at
all, which is not often. Furthermore, madam, I feel confused at the
importance you attach to my opinion. The secret of my likes and dislikes
is quite simple; I have, as I was telling you, the most religious respect
for virtue, but all mine is limited to a deep-seated sentiment of a few
essential duties which I practice as best I can; I could not therefore ask
any more of others. As to the intellect, I confess that I value it
greatly, and life seems too serious a matter to me to be treated on the
footing of a perpetual ball, from the cradle to the grave. Moreover, the
productions of the mind, works of art in particular, are the object of my
most passionate preoccupations, and it is natural that I should like being
able to speak of what interests me. That's all."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|