The Red and the Black: A Chronicle of 1830
Nothing could have been less tactful, nothing less agreeable, and
nothing more imprudent both for him and for her. They were within
an inch of being noticed. Madame de Rênal thought him mad. She was
frightened, and above all, shocked. This stupidity reminded her of M.
Valenod.
"What would happen to me," she said to herself, "if I were alone with
him?" All her virtue returned, because her love was waning.
She so arranged it that one of her children always remained with her.
Julien found the day very tedious, and passed it entirely in clumsily
putting into operation his plan of seduction. He did not look at Madame
de Rênal on a single occasion without that look having a reason, but
nevertheless he was not sufficiently stupid to fail to see that he was
not succeeding at all in being amiable, and was succeeding even less in
being fascinating.
Madame de Rênal did not recover from her astonishment at finding him
so awkward and at the same time so bold. "It is the timidity of love
in men of intellect," she said to herself with an inexpressible joy.
"Could it be possible that he had never been loved by my rival?"
After breakfast Madame de Rênal went back to the drawing-room to
receive the visit of M. Charcot de Maugiron, the sub-prefect of Bray.
She was working at a little frame of fancy-work some distance from the
ground. Madame Derville was at her side; that was how she was placed
when our hero thought it suitable to advance his boot in the full
light and press the pretty foot of Madame de Rênal, whose open-work
stockings, and pretty Paris shoe were evidently attracting the looks of
the gallant sub-prefect.
Madame de Rênal was very much afraid, and let fall her scissors, her
ball of wool and her needles, so that Julien's movement could be passed
for a clumsy effort, intended to prevent the fall of the scissors,
which presumably he had seen slide. Fortunately, these little scissors
of English steel were broken, and Madame de Rênal did not spare her
regrets that Julien had not succeeded in getting nearer to her. "You
noticed them falling before I did--you could have prevented it,
instead, all your zealousness only succeeding in giving me a very big
kick." All this took in the sub-perfect, but not Madame Derville. "That
pretty boy has very silly manners," she thought. The social code of a
provincial capital never forgives this kind of lapse.
Madame de Rênal found an opportunity of saying to Julien, "Be prudent,
I order you."
Julien appreciated his own clumsiness. He was upset. He deliberated
with himself for a long time, in order to ascertain whether or not he
ought to be angry at the expression "I order you." He was silly enough
to think she might have said "I order you," if it were some question
concerning the children's education, but in answering my love she puts
me on an equality. It is impossible to love without equality ... and
all his mind ran riot in making common-places on equality. He angrily
repeated to himself that verse of Corneille which Madame Derville had
taught him some days before.
"L'amour
les égalités, et ne les cherche pas."
Julien who had never had a mistress in his whole life, but yet insisted
on playing the rôle of a Don Juan, made a shocking fool of himself all
day. He had only one sensible idea. Bored with himself and Madame de
Rênal, he viewed with apprehension the advance of the evening when he
would have to sit by her side in the darkness of the garden. He told M.
de Rênal that he was going to Verrières to see the curé. He left after
dinner, and only came back in the night.
At Verrières Julien found M. Chélan occupied in moving. He had just
been deprived of his living; the curate Maslon was replacing him.
Julien helped the good curé, and it occurred to him to write to Fouqué
that the irresistible mission which he felt for the holy ministry had
previously prevented him from accepting his kind offer, but that he had
just seen an instance of injustice, and that perhaps it would be safer
not to enter into Holy Orders.
Julien congratulated himself on his subtlety in exploiting the
dismissal of the curé of Verrières so as to leave himself a loop-hole
for returning to commerce in the event of a gloomy prudence routing the
spirit of heroism from his mind.
CHAPTER XV
THE COCK'S SONG
Amour en latin faict amour;
Or done provient d'amour la mart,
Et, par avant, souley qui moreq,
Deuil, plours, pieges, forfailz, remord.
BLASON D'AMOUR.
If Julien had possessed a little of that adroitness on which he so
gratuitously plumed himself, he could have congratulated himself the
following day on the effect produced by his journey to Verrières. His
absence had caused his clumsiness to be forgotten. But on that day
also he was rather sulky. He had a ludicrous idea in the evening, and
with singular courage he communicated it to Madame de Rênal. They had
scarcely sat down in the garden before Julien brought his mouth near
Madame de Rênal's ear without waiting till it was sufficiently dark and
at the risk of compromising her terribly, said to her,
"Madame, to-night, at two o'clock, I shall go into your room, I must
tell you something."
Julien trembled lest his request should be granted. His rakish pose
weighed him down so terribly that if he could have followed his own
inclination he would have returned to his room for several days and
refrained from seeing the ladies any more. He realised that he had
spoiled by his clever conduct of last evening all the bright prospects
of the day that had just passed, and was at his wits' end what to do.
Madame de Rênal answered the impertinent declaration which Julien had
dared to make to her with indignation which was real and in no way
exaggerated. He thought he could see contempt in her curt reply. The
expression "for shame," had certainly occurred in that whispered answer.
Julien went to the children's room under the pretext of having
something to say to them, and on his return he placed himself beside
Madame Derville and very far from Madame de Rênal. He thus deprived
himself of all possibility of taking her hand. The conversation was
serious, and Julien acquitted himself very well, apart from a few
moments of silence during which he was cudgelling his brains.
"Why can't I invent some pretty manœuvre," he said to himself which
will force Madame de Rênal to vouchsafe to me those unambiguous signs
of tenderness which a few days ago made me think that she was mine.
Julien was extremely disconcerted by the almost desperate plight
to which he had brought his affairs. Nothing, however, would have
embarrassed him more than success.
When they separated at midnight, his pessimism made him think that
he enjoyed Madame Derville's contempt, and that probably he stood no
better with Madame de Rênal.
Feeling in a very bad temper and very humiliated, Julien did not sleep.
He was leagues away from the idea of giving up all intriguing and
planning, and of living from day to day with Madame de Rênal, and of
being contented like a child with the happiness brought by every day.
He racked his brains inventing clever manœuvres, which an instant
afterwards he found absurd, and, to put it shortly, was very unhappy
when two o'clock rang from the castle clock.
The noise woke him up like the cock's crow woke up St. Peter. The most
painful episode was now timed to begin--he had not given a thought to
his impertinent proposition, since the moment when he had made it and
it had been so badly received.
"I have told her that I will go to her at two o'clock," he said to
himself as he got up, "I may be inexperienced and coarse, as the son
of a peasant naturally would be. Madame Derville has given me to
understand as much, but at any rate, I will not be weak."
Julien had reason to congratulate himself on his courage, for he had
never put his self-control to so painful a test. As he opened his door,
he was trembling to such an extent that his knees gave way under him,
and he was forced to lean against the wall.
He was without shoes; he went and listened at M. de Rênal's door, and
could hear his snoring. He was disconsolate, he had no longer any
excuse for not going to her room. But, Great Heaven! What was he to do
there? He had no plan, and even if he had had one, he felt himself so
nervous that he would have been incapable of carrying it out.
Eventually, suffering a thousand times more than if he had been walking
to his death, he entered the little corridor that led to Madame de
Rênal's room. He opened the door with a trembling hand and made a
frightful noise.
There was light; a night light was burning on the mantelpiece. He
had not expected this new misfortune. As she saw him enter, Madame
de Rênal got quickly out of bed. "Wretch," she cried. There was a
little confusion. Julien forgot his useless plans, and turned to his
natural rôle. To fail to please so charming a woman appeared to him the
greatest of misfortunes. His only answer to her reproaches was to throw
himself at her feet while he kissed her knees. As she was speaking to
him with extreme harshness, he burst into tears.
When Julien came out of Madame de Rênal's room some hours afterwards,
one could have said, adopting the conventional language of the novel,
that there was nothing left to be desired. In fact, he owed to the love
he had inspired, and to the unexpected impression which her alluring
charms had produced upon him, a victory to which his own clumsy tactics
would never have led him.
But victim that he was of a distorted pride, he pretended even in
the sweetest moments to play the rôle of a man accustomed to the
subjugation of women: he made incredible but deliberate efforts to
spoil his natural charm. Instead of watching the transports which he
was bringing into existence, and those pangs of remorse which only set
their keenness into fuller relief, the idea of duty was continually
before his eyes. He feared a frightful remorse, and eternal ridicule,
if he departed from the ideal model he proposed to follow. In a word,
the very quality which made Julien into a superior being was precisely
that which prevented him from savouring the happiness which was placed
within his grasp. It's like the case of a young girl of sixteen with a
charming complexion who is mad enough to put on rouge before going to a
ball.
Mortally terrified by the apparition of Julien, Madame de Rênal was
soon a prey to the most cruel alarm. The prayers and despair of Julien
troubled her keenly.
Even when there was nothing left for her to refuse him she pushed
Julien away from her with a genuine indignation, and straightway threw
herself into his arms. There was no plan apparent in all this conduct.
She thought herself eternally damned, and tried to hide from herself
the sight of hell by loading Julien with the wildest caresses. In a
word, nothing would have been lacking in our hero's happiness, not even
an ardent sensibility in the woman whom he had just captured, if he had
only known how to enjoy it. Julien's departure did not in any way bring
to an end those ecstacies which thrilled her in spite of herself, and
those troubles of remorse which lacerated her.
"My God! being happy--being loved, is that all it comes to?" This was
Julien's first thought as he entered his room. He was a prey to the
astonishment and nervous anxiety of the man who has just obtained
what he has long desired. He has been accustomed to desire, and has
no longer anything to desire, and nevertheless has no memories. Like
a soldier coming back from parade. Julien was absorbed in rehearsing
the details of his conduct. "Have I failed in nothing which I owe to
myself? Have I played my part well?"