Fortunately, however, as the carriage drew up, Modeste saw an old man, in a blond wig10 frizzed into little curls, whose calm, plump, smooth face wore a fatherly smile and an expression of monastic cheerfulness which the half-veiled glance of the eye rendered almost noble. This was the Duc de Verneuil, master of Rosembray. The duchess, a woman of extreme piety11, the only daughter of a rich and deceased chief-justice, spare and erect12, and the mother of four children, resembled Madame Latournelle — if the imagination can go so far as to adorn13 the notary’s wife with the graces of a bearing that was truly abbatial.
“Ah, good morning, dear Hortense!” said Mademoiselle d’Herouville, kissing the duchess with the sympathy that united their haughty14 natures; “let me present to you and to the dear duke our little angel, Mademoiselle de La Bastie.”
“We have heard so much of you, mademoiselle,” said the duchess, “that we were in haste to receive you.”
“And regret the time lost,” added the Duc de Verneuil, with courteous15 admiration16.
“Monsieur le Comte de La Bastie,” said the grand equerry, taking the colonel by the arm and presenting him to the duke and duchess, with an air of respect in his tone and gesture.
“I am glad to welcome you, Monsieur le comte!” said Monsieur de Verneuil. “You possess more than one treasure,” he added, looking at Modeste.
The duchess took Modeste under her arm and led her into an immense salon17, where a dozen or more women were grouped about the fireplace. The men of the party remained with the duke on the terrace, except Canalis, who respectfully made his way to the superb Eleonore. The Duchesse de Chaulieu, seated at an embroidery18-frame, was showing Mademoiselle de Verneuil how to shade a flower.
If Modeste had run a needle through her finger when handling a pin-cushion she could not have felt a sharper prick19 than she received from the cold and haughty and contemptuous stare with which Madame de Chaulieu favored her. For an instant she saw nothing but that one woman, and she saw through her. To understand the depths of cruelty to which these charming creatures, whom our passions deify, can go, we must see women with each other. Modeste would have disarmed20 almost any other than Eleonore by the perfectly21 stupid and involuntary admiration which her face betrayed. Had she not known the duchess’s age she would have thought her a woman of thirty-six; but other and greater astonishments awaited her.
The poet had run plump against a great lady’s anger. Such anger is the worst of sphinxes; the face is radiant, all the rest menacing. Kings themselves cannot make the exquisite22 politeness of a mistress’s cold anger capitulate when she guards it with steel armor. Canalis tried to cling to the steel, but his fingers slipped on the polished surface, like his words on the heart; and the gracious face, the gracious words, the gracious bearing of the duchess hid the steel of her wrath23, now fallen to twenty-five below zero, from all observers. The appearance of Modeste in her sublime24 beauty, and dressed as well as Diane de Maufrigneuse herself, had fired the train of gunpowder25 which reflection had been laying in Eleonore’s mind.
All the women had gone to the windows to see the new wonder get out of the royal carriage, attended by her three suitors.
“Do not let us seem so curious,” Madame de Chaulieu had said, cut to the heart by Diane’s exclamation26 — “She is divine! where in the world does she come from?”— and with that the bevy27 flew back to their seats, resuming their composure, though Eleonore’s heart was full of hungry vipers28 all clamorous29 for a meal.
Mademoiselle d’Herouville said in a low voice and with much meaning to the Duchesse de Verneuil, “Eleonore receives her Melchior very ungraciously.”
“The Duchesse de Maufrigneuse thinks there is a coolness between them,” said Laure de Verneuil, with simplicity30.
Charming phrase! so often used in the world of society — how the north wind blows through it.
“Why so?” asked Modeste of the pretty young girl who had lately left the Sacre–Coeur.
“The great poet,” said the pious31 duchess — making a sign to her daughter to be silent —“left Madame de Chaulieu without a letter for more than two weeks after he went to Havre, having told her that he went there for his health —”
Modeste made a hasty movement, which caught the attention of Laure, Helene, and Mademoiselle d’Herouville.
“— and during that time,” continued the devout32 duchess, “she was endeavoring to have him appointed commander of the Legion of honor, and minister at Baden.”
“Oh, that was shameful33 in Canalis; he owes everything to her,” exclaimed Mademoiselle d’Herouville.
“Why did not Madame de Chaulieu come to Havre?” asked Modeste of Helene, innocently.
“My dear,” said the Duchesse de Verneuil, “she would let herself be cut in little pieces without saying a word. Look at her — she is regal; her head would smile, like Mary Stuart’s, after it was cut off; in fact, she has some of that blood in her veins34.”
“Did she not write to him?” asked Modeste.
“Diane tells me,” answered the duchess, prompted by a nudge from Mademoiselle d’Herouville, “that in answer to Canalis’s first letter she made a cutting reply a few days ago.”
This explanation made Modeste blush with shame for the man before her; she longed, not to crush him under her feet, but to revenge herself by one of those malicious35 acts that are sharper than a dagger’s thrust. She looked haughtily36 at the Duchesse de Chaulieu —
“Monsieur Melchior!” she said.
All the women snuffed the air and looked alternately at the duchess, who was talking in an undertone to Canalis over the embroidery-frame, and then at the young girl so ill brought up as to disturb a lovers’ meeting — a think not permissible37 in any society. Diane de Maufrigneuse nodded, however, as much as to say, “The child is in the right of it.” All the women ended by smiling at each other; they were enraged38 with a woman who was fifty-six years old and still handsome enough to put her fingers into the treasury39 and steal the dues of youth. Melchior looked at Modeste with feverish40 impatience41, and made the gesture of a master to a valet, while the duchess lowered her head with the movement of a lioness disturbed at a meal; her eyes, fastened on the canvas, emitted red flames in the direction of the poet, which stabbed like epigrams, for each word revealed to her a triple insult.
“Monsieur Melchior!” said Modeste again in a voice that asserted its right to be heard.
“What, mademoiselle?” demanded the poet.
Forced to rise, he remained standing42 half-way between the embroidery frame, which was near a window, and the fireplace where Modeste was seated with the Duchesse de Verneuil on a sofa. What bitter reflections came into his ambitious mind, as he caught a glance from Eleonore. If he obeyed Modeste all was over, and forever, between himself and his protectress. Not to obey her was to avow43 his slavery, to lose the chances of his twenty-five days of base manoeuvring, and to disregard the plainest laws of decency44 and civility. The greater the folly45, the more imperatively46 the duchess exacted it. Modeste’s beauty and money thus pitted against Eleonore’s rights and influence made this hesitation47 between the man and his honor as terrible to witness as the peril48 of a matador49 in the arena50. A man seldom feels such palpitations as those which now came near causing Canalis an aneurism, except, perhaps, before the green table, where his fortune or his ruin is about to be decided51.
“Mademoiselle d’Herouville hurried me from the carriage, and I left behind me,” said Modeste to Canalis, “my handkerchief —”
Canalis shrugged52 his shoulders significantly.
“And,” continued Modeste, taking no notice of his gesture, “I had tied into one corner of it the key of a desk which contains the fragment of an important letter; have the kindness, Monsieur Melchior, to get it for me.”
Between an angel and a tiger equally enraged Canalis, who had turned livid, no longer hesitated — the tiger seemed to him the least dangerous of the two; and he was about to do as he was told, and commit himself irretrievably, when La Briere appeared at the door of the salon, seeming to his anguished53 mind like the archangel Gabriel tumbling from heaven.
“Ernest, here, Mademoiselle de La Bastie wants you,” said the poet, hastily returning to his chair by the embroidery frame.
Ernest rushed to Modeste without bowing to any one; he saw only her, took his commission with undisguised joy, and darted54 from the room, with the secret approbation55 of every woman present.
“What an occupation for a poet!” said Modeste to Helene d’Herouville, glancing toward the embroidery at which the duchess was now working savagely56.
“If you speak to her, if you ever look at her, all is over between us,” said the duchess to the poet in a low voice, not at all satisfied with the very doubtful termination which Ernest’s arrival had put to the scene; “and remember, if I am not present, I leave behind me eyes that will watch you.”
So saying, the duchess, a woman of medium height, but a little too stout57, like all women over fifty who retain their beauty, rose and walked toward the group which surrounded Diane de Maufrigneuse, stepping daintily on little feet that were as slender and nervous as a deer’s. Beneath her plumpness could be seen the exquisite delicacy58 of such women, which comes from the vigor59 of their nervous systems controlling and vitalizing the development of flesh. There is no other way to explain the lightness of her step, and the incomparable nobility of her bearing. None but the women whose quarterings begin with Noah know, as Eleonore did, how to be majestic60 in spite of a buxom61 tendency. A philosopher might have pitied Philoxene, while admiring the graceful62 lines of the bust63 and the minute care bestowed64 upon a morning dress, which was worn with the elegance of a queen and the easy grace of a young girl. Her abundant hair, still undyed, was simply wound about her head in plaits; she bared her snowy throat and shoulders, exquisitely65 modelled, and her celebrated hand and arm, with pardonable pride. Modeste, together with all other antagonists66 of the duchess, recognized in her a woman of whom they were forced to say, “She eclipses us.” In fact, Eleonore was one of the “grandes dames” now so rare. To endeavor to explain what august quality there was in the carriage of the head, what refinement67 and delicacy in the curve of the throat, what harmony in her movements, and nobility in her bearing, what grandeur68 in the perfect accord of details with the whole being, and in the arts, now a second nature, which render a woman grand and even sacred — to explain all these things would simply be to attempt to analyze69 the sublime. People enjoy such poetry as they enjoy that of Paganini; they do not explain to themselves the medium, they know the cause is in the spirit that remains70 invisible.
Madame de Chaulieu bowed her head in salutation of Helene and her aunt; then, saying to Diane, in a pure and equable tone of voice, without a trace of emotion, “Is it not time to dress, duchess?” she made her exit, accompanied by her daughter-inlaw and Mademoiselle d’Herouville. As she left the room she spoke71 in an undertone to the old maid, who pressed her arm, saying, “You are charming,”— which meant, “I am all gratitude72 for the service you have just done us.” After that, Mademoiselle d’Herouville returned to the salon to play her part of spy, and her first glance apprised73 Canalis that the duchess had made him no empty threat. That apprentice74 in diplomacy75 became aware that his science was not sufficient for a struggle of this kind, and his wit served him to take a more honest position, if not a worthier76 one. When Ernest returned, bringing Modeste’s handkerchief, the poet seized his arm and took him out on the terrace.
“My dear friend,” he said, “I am not only the most unfortunate man in the world, but I am also the most ridiculous; and I come to you to get me out of the hornet’s nest into which I have run myself. Modeste is a demon77; she sees my difficulty and she laughs at it; she has just spoken to me of a fragment of a letter of Madame de Chaulieu, which I had the folly to give her; if she shows it I can never make my peace with Eleonore. Therefore, will you at once ask Modeste to send me back that paper, and tell her, from me, that I make no pretensions78 to her hand. Say I count upon her delicacy, upon her propriety79 as a young girl, to behave to me as if we had never known each other. I beg her not to speak to me; I implore80 her to treat me harshly — though I hardly dare ask her to feign81 a jealous anger, which would help my interests amazingly. Go, I will wait here for an answer.”
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1
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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vipers
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| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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permissible
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| adj.可允许的，许可的 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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matador
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| n.斗牛士 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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51
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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52
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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54
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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56
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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60
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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67
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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71
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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72
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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apprised
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| v.告知，通知( apprise的过去式和过去分词 )；评价 | |
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74
apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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76
worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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77
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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78
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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80
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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81
feign
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| vt.假装，佯作 | |
参考例句： |
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