It was she who received him in the little drawing-room. She thanked him for his interest in Félicie's health, and informed him that she had been restless and unwell the night before, but was now feeling better.
"She is in her bedroom, working at her part. I will tell her that you are here. She will be very glad to see you, Monsieur de Ligny. She knows that you are very fond of her. And true friends are rare, especially in the theatrical3 world."
Robert observed Madame Nanteuil with an attention which he had not hitherto bestowed4 upon her. He was trying to see in her face the face that would be her daughter's in years to come. When [Pg 187] walking in the street he was fond of reading, in the faces of the mothers, the love-affairs of the daughters. And on this occasion he assiduously deciphered the features and the figure of this woman as an interesting prophecy. He discovered nothing either of bad or good augury5. Madame Nanteuil, plump, fresh-complexioned, cool-skinned, was not unattractive with the sensuous6 fullness of her contours. But her daughter did not in the least resemble her.
"You yourself are not of a nervous temperament8?"
"I have never been nervous. My daughter does not take after me. She is the living image of her father. He was delicate, although his health was not bad. He died of a fall from his horse. You'll take a cup of tea, won't you, Monsieur de Ligny?"
Félicie entered the room. Her hair was outspread upon her shoulders; she was wrapped in a white woollen dressing-gown, held very loosely at the waist by a heavy embroidered9 girdle, and she shuffled10 along in red slippers11; she looked a mere12 child. The friend of the house, Tony Meyer, the picture dealer13, was wont14 when he saw her in this garment, which was a trifle monkish15 in appearance, [Pg 188] to call her Brother Ange de Charolais, because he had discovered in her a resemblance to a portrait by Nattier16 which represented Mademoiselle de Charolais in the Franciscan habit. Before this little girl, Robert was surprised and silent.
"It's kind of you," she said, "to have come to inquire after me. I am better, thank you."
"She works very hard; she works too hard," said Madame Nanteuil. "Her part in La Grille is tiring her."
"Oh no, mother."
During a moment's silence, Madame Nanteuil asked Monsieur de Ligny if he were still collecting old fashion-prints.
Félicie and Robert looked at her without understanding. They had told her not long before some fiction about engraved19 fashion-plates, to explain the meetings which they had not been able to conceal20. But they had quite forgotten the fact. Since then, a piece of the moon, as an old author has said, had fallen into their love; Madame Nanteuil alone, in her profound respect for fiction, remembered it.
"My daughter told me you had a great number of those old engravings and that she used to find ideas for her costumes in them."
"Quite so, madame, quite so."
[Pg 189]
"Come here, Monsieur de Ligny," said Félicie. "I want to show you a design for a costume for the part of Cécile de Rochemaure."
And she carried him off to her room.
It was a small room hung with flowered paper; the furniture consisted of a wardrobe with a mirror, a couple of chairs upholstered in horsehairs and an iron bedstead; with a white counterpane; above it was a bowl for holy water, and a sprig of boxwood.
She gave him a long kiss on the mouth.
"I do love you, do you know!"
"Quite sure?"
"Oh yes! And you?"
"I too, I love you. I wouldn't have believed that I could love you so!"
"Then it came afterwards."
"It always comes afterwards."
"That's true, what you've just said, Robert. Before—one doesn't know."
She shook her head.
"I was very ill yesterday."
"Have you seen Trublet? What did he say?"
"He told me that I needed rest, and quiet. My darling, we must be sensible for another fortnight. Do you mind?"
"I do."
"So do I. But what would you have?"
[Pg 190]
He strolled round the room two or three times, looking into every corner. She watched him with some little uneasiness, dreading21 lest he should ask her questions about her poor jewels and her cheap trinkets, which were modest enough as presents, but she could not in every case explain how she came to receive them. One may say anything one pleases, of course, but one may contradict oneself, and get into trouble, and that assuredly is not worth while. She diverted his attention.
"Robert, open my glove-box."
"What have you got in your glove-box?"
"The violets you gave me the first time. Darling, don't leave me! Don't go away. When I think that from one day to the next you may go to some foreign country, to London, to Constantinople, I feel crazy."
He comforted her, telling her that there had been some thought of sending him to The Hague. But he was determined22 not to go; he would get himself attached to the Minister's staff.
"You promise?"
Pointing to the little wardrobe with its looking-glass, she said:
"Look, darling, it's there that I study my part. When you came, I was working over my scene in [Pg 191] the fourth. I take advantage of being alone to try for the exact tone. I seek a broad, mellow24 effect. If I were to listen to Romilly I should mince25 my words, and the result would be wretched. I have to say. 'I do not fear you.' It's the great moment of the part. Do you know how Romilly would have me say: 'I do not fear you'? I'll show you, I am to raise my hand to my nose, open my fingers and speak one word to each finger separately, in a particular tone, with a special expression 'I, do, not, fear, you,' as if I were exhibiting marionettes! It's a wonder he does not ask me to put a little paper hat on every finger. Subtle, intellectual, isn't it?"
"I'll show you how I do it."
Suddenly transfigured, seeming of greater stature27, she spoke the words with an air of ingenuous28 dignity and serene innocence29:
"No, sir, I do not fear you. Why should I fear you? You thought to ensnare me, and you have placed yourself at my mercy. You are a man of honour. Now that I am under the shelter of your roof, you shall tell me what you told Chevalier d'Amberre, your enemy, when he entered that gate. You shall tell me: 'You are in your own house; I am yours to command.'"
She had the mysterious gift of changing her [Pg 192] soul and her very face. Ligny was under the spell of this beautiful illusion.
"You are marvellous!"
"Listen, pussy-cat. I shall wear a big lawn bonnet30 with lappets, one above the other, on either side of my face. You see, in the play I am a young girl of the Revolution. And it is imperative31 that I should make people feel it. I must have the Revolution in me, do you understand?"
"Are you well up in the Revolution?"
"Of course I am! I don't know the dates, to be sure. But I have the feeling of the period. For me, the Revolution means a bosom32 swelling33 with pride under a crossed neckerchief, knees enjoying full freedom in a striped petticoat, and a tiny blaze of colour on the cheek-bones. There you have it!"
He asked her questions about the play, and he realized that she knew nothing about it. She, did not need to know anything about it. She divined, she found by instinct all that she needed from it.
"At rehearsals34, I never give them a hint as to any of my effects, I keep them all for the public. It will make Romilly tear his hair. How stupid they'll all look! Fagette, my dear, will make herself ill over it."
She sat down on a little rickety chair. Her forehead, but a moment before as white as marble, [Pg 193] was rosy35; she had once more assumed her cheeky flapper's expression.
He drew near to her, gazed into the fascinating grey of her eyes, and, as on the evening before, when he sat in front of his coke-fire, he reflected that she was untruthful and cowardly, and ill-natured toward her friends; but now the thought was tempered with indulgence. He reflected that she had love-affairs with actors of the lowest type, or that she at least made shift with them; but the thought was tempered with a gentle pity. He recalled all the evil that he knew of her, but without bitterness. He felt that he loved her, less because she was pretty than because she was pretty in her own fashion; in a word, that he loved her because she was a gem36 endowed with life, and an incomparable thing of art and voluptuousness37. He looked into the fascinating grey of her eyes, into their pupils, where tiny astrological symbols seemed to float in a luminous38 tide. He gazed at her with a gaze so searching that she felt it pierce right through her. And, assured that he had seen right into her, she said to him, with her eyes on his, clasping his head between her two hands:
"Oh yes! I'm a rotten little actress; but I love you, and I don't care a rap for money. And there aren't many as good as me. And you know it well enough."
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1
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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obsequiousness
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| 媚骨 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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4
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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augury
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| n.预言，征兆，占卦 | |
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6
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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7
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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8
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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9
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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11
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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15
monkish
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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16
nattier
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| n.淡蓝色adj.整洁漂亮的( natty的比较级 )；潇洒的，灵巧的 | |
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17
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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18
languished
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| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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19
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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21
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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24
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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25
mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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26
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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30
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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31
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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32
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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33
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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34
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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35
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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36
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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37
voluptuousness
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| n.风骚，体态丰满 | |
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38
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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