During my journey from the Hague to Paris, short as it was, I had plenty of opportunities for seeing that the mental qualities of my adopted son were by no means equal to his physical ones.
As I had said, the chief point which his mother had impressed on him was reserve, which she had instilled1 into him out of regard for her own interests. My readers will understand what I mean, but the child, in following his mother’s instructions, had gone beyond the bounds of moderation; he possessed2 reserve, it is true, but he was also full of dissimulation4, suspicion, and hypocrisy5 — a fine trio of deceit in one who was still a boy. He not only concealed6 what he knew, but he pretended to know that which he did not. His idea of the one quality necessary to success in life was an impenetrable reserve, and to obtain this he had accustomed himself to silence the dictates8 of his heart, and to say no word that had not been carefully weighed. Giving other people wrong impressions passed with him for discretion9, and his soul being incapable10 of a generous thought, he seemed likely to pass through life without knowing what friendship meant.
Knowing that Madame d’Urfe counted on the boy for the accomplishment11 of her absurd hypostasis, and that the more mystery I made of his birth the more extravagant12 would be her fancies about it, I told the lad that if I introduced him to a lady who questioned him by himself about his birth, he was to be perfectly13 open with her.
On my arrival at Paris my first visit was to my patron, whom I found in grand company amongst whom I recognized the Venetian ambassador, who pretended not to know me.
“How long have you been in Paris?” said the minister, taking me by the hand.
“I have only just stepped out of my chaise.”
“Then go to Versailles. You will find the Duc de Choiseul and the comptroller-general there. You have been wonderfully successful, go and get your meed of praise and come and see me afterwards. Tell the duke that Voltaire’s appointment to be a gentleman-in-ordinary to the king is ready.”
I was not going to start for Versailles at midday, but ministers in Paris are always talking in this style, as if Versailles were at the end of the street. Instead of going there, I went to see Madame d’Urfe.
She received me with the words that her genius had informed her that I should come to-day, and that she was delighted with the fulfilment of the prophecy.
“Corneman tells me that you have been doing wonders in Holland; but I see more in the matter than he does, as I am quite certain that you have taken over the twenty millions yourself. The funds have risen, and a hundred millions at least will be in circulation in the course of the next week. You must not be offended at my shabby present, for, of course, twelve thousand francs are nothing to you. You must look upon them as a little token of friendship.”
“I am going to tell my servants to close all the doors, for I am too glad to see you not to want to have you all to myself.”
A profound bow was the only reply I made to this flattering speech, and I saw her tremble with joy when I told her that I had brought a lad of twelve with me, whom I intended to place in the best school I could find that he might have a good education.
“I will send him myself to Viar, where my nephews are. What is his name? Where is he? I know well what this boy is, I long to see him. Why did you not alight from your journey at my house?”
Her questions and replies followed one another in rapid succession. I should have found it impossible to get in a word edgeways, even if I had wanted to, but I was very glad to let her expend14 her enthusiasm, and took good care not to interrupt her. On the first opportunity, I told her that I should have the pleasure of presenting the young gentleman to her the day after tomorrow, as on the morrow I had an engagement at Versailles.
“Does the dear lad speak French? While I am arranging for his going to school you must really let him come and live with me.”
“We will discuss that question on the day after tomorrow, madam.”
“Oh, how I wish the day after to-morrow was here!”
On leaving Madame d’Urfe I went to my lottery15 office and found everything in perfect order. I then went to the Italian play, and found Silvia and her daughter in their dressing-room.
“My dear friend,” said she when she saw me, “I know that you have achieved a wonderful success in Holland, and I congratulate you.”
I gave her an agreeable surprise by saying that I had been working for her daughter, and Marion herself blushed, and lowered her eyes in a very suggestive manner. “I will be with you at supper,” I added, “and then we can talk at our ease.” On leaving them I went to the amphitheatre, and what was my surprise to see in one of the first boxes Madame X—— C—— V— — with all her family. My readers will be glad to hear their history.
Madame X—— C—— V— — by birth a Greek, was the widow of an Englishman, by whom she had six children, four of whom were girls. On his death-bed he became a Catholic out of deference16 to the tears of his wife; but as his children could not inherit his forty thousand pounds invested in England, without conforming to the Church of England, the family returned to London, where the widow complied with all the obligations of the law of England. What will people not do when their interests are at stake! though in a case like this there is no need to blame a person for yielding, to prejudices which had the sanction of the law.
It was now the beginning of the year 1758, and five years before, when I was at Padua, I fell in love with the eldest17 daughter, but a few months after, when we were at Venice, Madame X. C. V. thought good to exclude me from her family circle. The insult which the mother put upon me was softened18 by the daughter, who wrote me a charming letter, which I love to read even now. I may as well confess that my grief was the easier to bear as my time was taken up by my fair nun19, M—— M— — and my dear C—— C——. Nevertheless, Mdlle. X. C. V., though only fifteen, was of a perfect beauty, and was all the more charming in that to her physical advantages she joined those of a cultured mind.
Count Algarotti, the King of Prussia’s chamberlain, gave her lessons, and several young nobles were among her suitors, her preference apparently20 being given to the heir of the family of Memmo de St. Marcuola. He died a year afterwards, while he was procurator.
My surprise at seeing this family at such a time and place may be imagined. Mdlle. X. C. V. saw me directly, and pointed21 me out to her mother, who made a sign to me with her fan to come to their box.
She received me in the friendliest manner possible, telling me that we were not at Venice now, and that she hoped I would often come and see them at the “Hotel de Bretagne,” in the Rue3 St. Andre des Arts. I told them that I did not wish to recall any events which might have happened at Venice, and her daughter having joined her entreaties22 to those of her mother, I promised to accept their invitation.
Mdlle. X. C. V. struck me as prettier than ever; and my love, after sleeping for five years, awoke to fresh strength and vigour23. They told me that they were going to pass six months at Paris before returning to Venice. In return I informed them that I intended making Paris my home, that I had just left Holland, that I was going to Versailles the next day, so that I could not pay my respects to them till the day after. I also begged them to accept my services, in a manner which let them know I was a person of some importance.
Mdlle. X. C. V. said that she was aware that the results of my Dutch mission should render me dear to France, that she had always lived in hopes of seeing me once more, that my famous flight from The Leads had delighted them; “for,” she added, “we have always been fond of you.”
“I fancy your mother has kept her fondness for me very much to herself,” I whispered to her.
“We won’t say anything about that,” said she in the same tone. “We learnt all the circumstances of your wonderful flight from a letter of sixteen pages you wrote to M. Memmo. We trembled with joy and shuddered24 with fear as we read it.”
“How did you know I have been in Holland?”
“M. de la Popeliniere told us about it yesterday.”
M. de la Popeliniere, the fermier-general, whom I had known seven years ago at Passi, came into the box just as his name was spoken. After complimenting me he said that if I could carry through the same operation for the India Company my fortune would be made.
“My advice to you is,” he said, “to get yourself naturalized before it becomes generally known that you have made half a million of money.”
“Half a million! I only wish I had!”
“You must have made that at the lowest calculation.”
“On the contrary, I give you my assurance, that if my claim for brokerage is not allowed, the transaction will prove absolutely ruinous to me.”
“Ah! no doubt you are right to take that tone. Meanwhile, everyone wants to make your acquaintance, for France is deeply indebted to you. You have caused the funds to recover in a very marked degree.”
After the play was over I went to Silvia’s, where I was received as if I had been the favourite child of the family; but on the other hand I gave them certain proofs that I wished to be regarded in that light. I was impressed with the idea that to their unshaken friendship I owed all my good luck, and I made the father, mother, the daughter, and the two sons, receive the presents I had got for them. The best was for the mother, who handed it on to her daughter. It was a pair of diamond ear-rings of great beauty, for which I had given fifteen thousand francs. Three days after I sent her a box containing fine linen26 from Holland, and choice Mechlin and Alencon lace. Mario, who liked smoking, got a gold pipe; the father a choice gold and enamelled snuff-box, and I gave a repeater to the younger son, of whom I was very fond. I shall have occasion later on to speak of this lad, whose natural qualities were far superior to his position in life. But, you will ask, was I rich enough to make such presents? No, I was not, and I knew it perfectly well; but I gave these presents because I was afraid of not being able to do so if I waited.
I set out for Versailles at day-break, and M. de Choiseul received me as before, his hair was being dressed, but for a moment he laid down his pen, which shewed that I had become a person of greater importance in his eyes. After a slight but grateful compliment, he told me that if I thought myself capable of negotiating a loan of a hundred millions to bear interest at four per cent., he would do all in his power to help me. My answer was that I would think it over when I heard how much I was to have for what I had done already.
“But everybody says that you have made two hundred thousand florins by it.”
“That would not be so bad; half a million of francs would be a fair foundation on which to build a fortune; but I can assure your excellence27 that there is not a word of truth in the report. I defy anyone to prove it; and till some substantial proof is offered, I think I can lay claim to brokerage.”
“True, true. Go to the comptroller-general and state your views to him.”
M. de Boulogne stopped the occupation on which he was engaged to give me a most friendly greeting, but when I said that he owed me a hundred thousand florins he smiled sardonically28.
“I happen to know,” he said, “that you have bills of exchange to the amount of a hundred thousand crowns payable29 to yourself.”
“Certainly, but that money has no connection with my mission, as I can prove to you by referring you to M. d’Afri. I have in my head an infallible project for increasing the revenue by twenty millions, in a manner which will cause no irritation30.”
“You don’t say so! Communicate your plan, and I promise to get you a pension of a hundred thousand francs, and letters of nobility as well, if you like to become a Frenchman.”
“I will think it over.”
On leaving M. de Boulogne I went to the Palace, where a ballet was going on before the Marquise de Pompadour.
She bowed to me as soon as she saw me, and on my approaching her she told me that I was an able financier, and that the “gentlemen below” could not appreciate my merits. She had not forgotten what I had said to her eight years before in the theatre at Fontainebleau. I replied that all good gifts were from above, whither, with her help, I hoped to attain31.
On my return to Paris I went to the “Hotel Bourbon” to inform my patron of the result of my journey. His advice to me was to continue to serve the Government well, as its good fortune would come to be mine. On my telling him of my meeting with the X. C. V.‘s, he said that M. de la Popeliniere was going to marry the elder daughter.
When I got to my house my son was nowhere to be found. My landlady32 told me that a great lady had come to call on my lord, and that she had taken him away with her. Guessing that this was Madame d’Urfe, I went to bed without troubling myself any further. Early next morning my clerk brought me a letter. It came from the old attorney, uncle to Gaetan’s wife, whom I had helped to escape from the jealous fury of her brutal33 husband. The attorney begged me to come and speak to him at the courts, or to make an appointment at some place where he could see me. I went to the courts and found him there.
“My niece,” he began, “found herself obliged to go into a convent; and from this vantage ground she is pleading against her husband, with the aid of a barrister, who will be responsible for the costs. However, to win our case, we require the evidence of yourself, Count Tiretta, and other servants who witnessed the scene at the inn.”
I did all I could, and four months afterwards Gaetan simplified matters by a fraudulent bankruptcy34, which obliged him to leave France: in due time and place, I shall have something more to say about him. As for his wife, who was young and pretty, she paid her counsel in love’s money, and was very happy with him, and may be happy still for all I know, but I have entirely35 lost sight of her.
After my interview with the old attorney I went to Madame —— to see Tiretta, who was out. Madame was still in love with him, and he continued to make a virtue36 of necessity. I left my address, and went to the “Hotel de Bretagne” to pay my first call on Madame X. C. V. The lady, though she was not over fond of me, received me with great politeness. I possibly cut a better figure in her eyes when rich, and at Paris, then when we were in Venice. We all know that diamonds have the strange power of fascination37, and that they form an excellent substitute for virtue!
Madame X. C. V. had with her an old Greek named Zandiri, brother to M. de Bragadin’s major-domo, who was just dead. I uttered some expressions of sympathy, and the boor38 did not take the trouble to answer me, but I was avenged39 for his foolish stiffness by the enthusiasm with which I was welcomed by everyone else. The eldest girl, her sisters, and the two sons, almost overwhelmed me with friendliness41. The eldest son was only fourteen, and was a young fellow of charming manners, but evidently extremely independent, and sighed for the time when he would be able to devote himself to a career of profligacy42 for which he was well fitted. Mdlle. X. C. V. was both beautiful and charming in her manner, and had received an excellent education of which, however, she made no parade. One could not stay in her presence without loving her, but she was no flirt43, and I soon saw that she held out no vain hopes to those who had the misfortune not to please her. Without being rude she knew how to be cold, and it was all the worse for those whom her coldness did not shew that their quest was useless.
The first hour I passed in her company chained me a captive to her triumphant44 car. I told her as much, and she replied that she was glad to have such a captive. She took the place in my heart where Esther had reigned45 a week before, but I freely confess that Esther yielded only because she was away. As to my attachment46 to Sylvia’s daughter, it was of such a nature as not to hinder me falling in love with any other woman who chanced to take my fancy. In the libertine’s heart love cannot exist without substantial food, and women who have had some experience of the world are well aware of this fact. The youthful Baletti was a beginner, and so knew nothing of these things.
M. Farsetti, a Venetian of noble birth, a knight47 of Malta, a great student of the occult sciences, and a good Latin versifier, came in at one o’clock. Dinner was just ready and Madame X. C. V. begged him to stay. She asked me also to dine with them, but wishing to dine with Madame d’Urfe I refused the invitation for the nonce.
M. Farsetti, who had known me very well at Venice, only noticed me by a side-glance, and without shewing any vexation I paid him back in the same coin. He smiled at Mdlle. X. C. V.‘s praise of my courage. She noticed his expression, and as if to punish him for it went on to say that I had now the admiration48 of every Venetian, and that the French were anxious to have the honour of calling me a fellow- citizen. M. Farsetti asked me if my post at the lottery paid well. I replied, coolly,
“Oh, yes, well enough for me to pay my clerks’ salaries.”
He understood the drift of my reply, and Mdlle. X. C. V. smiled.
I found my supposed son with Madame d’Urfe, or rather in that amiable49 visionary’s arms. She hastened to apologize for carrying him off, and I turned it off with a jest, having no other course to take.
“I made him sleep with me,” she said, “but I shall be obliged to deprive myself of this privilege for the future, unless he promises to be more discreet51.”
I thought the idea a grand one, and the little fellow, in spite of his blushes, begged her to say how he had offended.
“We shall have the Comte de St. Germain,” said Madame d’Urfe, “to dinner. I know he amuses you, and I like you to enjoy yourself in my house.”
“For that, madam, your presence is all I need; nevertheless, I thank you for considering me.”
In due course St. Germain arrived, and in his usual manner sat himself down, not to eat but to talk. With a face of imperturbable52 gravity he told the most incredible stories, which one had to pretend to believe, as he was always either the hero of the tale or an eye witness of the event. All the same, I could not help bursting into laughter when he told us of something that happened as he was dining with the Fathers of the Council of Trent.
Madame d’Urfe wore on her neck a large magnet. She said that it would one day happen that this magnet would attract the lightning, and that she would consequently soar into the sun. I longed to tell her that when, she got there she could be no higher up than on the earth, but I restrained myself; and the great charlatan53 hastened to say that there could be no doubt about it, and that he, and he only, could increase the force of the magnet a thousand times. I said, dryly, that I would wager54 twenty thousand crowns he would not so much as double its force, but Madame d’Urfe would not let us bet, and after dinner she told me in private that I should have lost, as St. Germain was a magician. Of course I agreed with her.
A few days later, the magician set out for Chambord, where the king had given him a suite55 of rooms and a hundred thousand francs, that he might be at liberty to work on the dyes which were to assure the superiority of French materials over those of any other country. St. Germain had got over the king by arranging a laboratory where he occasionally tried to amuse himself, though he knew little about chemistry, but the king was the victim of an almost universal weariness. To enjoy a harem recruited from amongst the most ravishing beauties, and often from the ranks of neophytes, with whom pleasure had its difficulties, one would have needed to be a god, and Louis XV. was only a man after all.
It was the famous marquise who had introduced the adept56 to the king in the hope of his distracting the monarch57’s weariness, by giving him a taste for chemistry. Indeed Madame de Pompadour was under the impression that St. Germain had given her the water of perpetual youth, and therefore felt obliged to make the chemist a good return. This wondrous58 water, taken according to the charlatan’s directions, could not indeed make old age retire and give way to youth, but according to the marquise it would preserve one in statu quo for several centuries.
As a matter of fact, the water, or the giver of it, had worked wonders, if not on her body, at least on her mind; she assured the king that she was not getting older. The king was as much deluded59 by this grand impostor as she was, for one day he shewed the Duc des Deux-Ponts a diamond of the first water, weighing twelve carats, which he fancied he had made himself. “I melted down,” said Louis XV., “small diamonds weighing twenty-four carats, and obtained this one large one weighing twelve.” Thus it came to pass that the infatuated monarch gave the impostor the suite formerly60 occupied by Marshal Saxe. The Duc des Deux-Ponts told me this story with his own lips, one evening, when I was supping with him and a Swede, the Comte de Levenhoop, at Metz.
Before I left Madame d’Urfe, I told her that the lad might be he who should make her to be born again, but that she would spoil all if she did not wait for him to attain the age of puberty. After what she had said about his misbehavior, the reader will guess what made me say this. She sent him to board with Viar, gave him masters on everything, and disguised him under the name of the Comte d’Aranda, although he was born at Bayreuth, and though his mother never had anything to do with a Spaniard of that name. It was three or four months before I went to see him, as I was afraid of being insulted on account of the name which the visionary Madame d’Urfe had given him.
One day Tiretta came to see me in a fine coach. He told me that his elderly mistress wanted to become his wife, but that he would not hear of it, though she offered to endow him with all her worldly goods. I told him that if he gave in he might pay his debts, return to Trevisa, and live pleasantly there; but his destiny would not allow him to take my advice.
I had resolved on taking a country house, and fixed61 on one called “Little Poland,” which pleased me better than all the others I had seen. It was well furnished, and was a hundred paces distant from the Madeleine Gate. It was situated62 on slightly elevated ground near the royal park, behind the Duc de Grammont’s garden, and its owner had given it the name of “Pleasant Warsaw.” It had two gardens, one of which was on a level with the first floor, three reception rooms, large stables, coach houses, baths, a good cellar, and a splendid kitchen. The master was called “The Butter King,” and always wrote himself down so; the name had been given to him by Louis XV. on the monarch’s stopping at the house and liking63 the butter. The “Butter King” let me his house for a hundred Louis per annum, and he gave me an excellent cook called “The Pearl,” a true blue-ribbon of the order of cooks, and to her he gave charge of all his furniture and the plate I should want for a dinner of six persons, engaging to get me as much plate as I wanted at the hire of a sous an ounce. He also promised to let me have what wine I wanted, and said all he had was of the best, and, moreover, cheaper than I could get it at Paris, as he had no gate-money to pay on it.
Matters having been arranged on these terms, in the course of a week I got a good coachman, two fine carriages, five horses, a groom64, and two footmen. Madame d’Urfe, who was my first guest, was delighted with my new abode65, and as she imagined that I had done it all for her, I left her in that flattering opinion. I never could believe in the morality of snatching from poor mortal man the delusions66 which make them happy. I also let her retain the notion that young d’Aranda, the count of her own making, was a scion67 of the nobility, that he was born for a mysterious operation unknown to the rest of mankind, that I was only his caretaker (here I spoke25 the truth), and that he must die and yet not cease to live. All these whimsical ideas were the products of her brain, which was only occupied with the impossible, and I thought the best thing I could do was to agree with everything. If I had tried to undeceive her, she would have accused me of want of trust in her, for she was convinced that all her knowledge was revealed to her by her genius, who spoke to her only by night. After she had dined with me I took her back to her house, full of happiness.
Camille sent me a lottery ticket, which she had invested in at my office, and which proved to be a winning one, I think, for a thousand crowns or thereabouts. She asked me to come and sup with her, and bring the money with me. I accepted her invitation, and found her surrounded by all the girls she knew and their lovers. After supper I was asked to go to the opera with them, but we had scarcely got there when I lost my party in the crowd. I had no mask on, and I soon found myself attacked by a black domino, whom I knew to be a woman, and as she told me a hundred truths about myself in a falsetto voice, I was interested, and determined68 on finding out who she was. At last I succeeded in persuading her to come with me into a box, and as soon as we were in and I had taken off her mask I was astonished to find she was Mdlle. X. C. V.
“I have come to the ball,” said she, “with one of my sisters, my elder brother, and M. Farsetti. I left them to go into a box and change my domino:
“They must feel very uneasy.”
“I dare say they do, but I am not going to take pity on them till the end of the ball.”
Finding myself alone with her, and certain of having her in my company for the rest of the night, I began to talk of our old love- making; and I took care to say that I was more in love with her than ever. She listened to me kindly69, did not oppose my embraces, and by the few obstacles she placed in my way I judged that the happy moment was not far off. Nevertheless I felt that I must practice restraint that evening, and she let me see that she was obliged to me.
“I heard at Versailles, my dear mademoiselle, that you are going to marry M. de la Popeliniere.”
“So they say. My mother wishes me to do so, and the old financier fancies he has got me in his talons70 already; but he makes a mistake, as I will never consent to such a thing.”
“He is old, but he is very rich.”
“He is very rich and very generous, for he promises me a dowry of a million if I become a widow without children; and if I had a son he would leave me all his property.”
“You wouldn’t have much difficulty in complying with the second alternative.”
“I shall never have anything to do with his money, for I should never make my life miserable71 by a marriage with a man whom I do not love, while I do love another.”
“Another! Who is the fortunate mortal to whom you have given your heart’s treasure?”
“I do not know if my loved one is fortunate. My lover is a Venetian, and my mother knows of it; but she says that I should not be happy, that he is not worthy72 of me.”
“Your mother is a strange woman, always crossing your affections.”
“I cannot be angry with her. She may possibly be wrong, but she certainly loves me. She would rather that I should marry M. Farsetti, who would be very glad to have me, but I detest73 him.”
“Has he made a declaration in terms?”
“He has, and all the marks of contempt I have given him seem to have no effect.”
“He clings hard to hope; but the truth is you have fascinated him.”
“Possibly, but I do not think him susceptible74 of any tender or generous feeling. He is a visionary; surly, jealous, and envious75 in his disposition76. When he heard me expressing myself about you in the manner you deserve, he had the impudence77 to say to my mother before my face that she ought not to receive you.”
“He deserves that I should give him a lesson in manners, but there are other ways in which he may be punished. I shall be delighted to serve you in any way I can.”
“Alas! if I could only count on your friendship I should be happy.”
The sigh with which she uttered these words sent fire through my veins78, and I told her that I was her devoted79 slave; that I had fifty thousand crowns which were at her service, and that I would risk my life to win her favours. She replied that she was truly grateful to me, and as she threw her arms about my neck our lips met, but I saw that she was weeping, so I took care that the fire which her kisses raised should be kept within bounds. She begged me to come and see her often, promising80 that as often as she could manage it we should be alone. I could ask no more, and after I had promised to come and dine with them on the morrow, we parted.
I passed an hour in walking behind her, enjoying my new position of intimate friend, and I then returned to my Little Poland. It was a short distance, for though I lived in the country I could get to any part of Paris in a quarter of an hour. I had a clever coachman, and capital horses not used to being spared. I got them from the royal stables, and as soon as I lost one I got another from the same place, having to pay two hundred francs. This happened to me several times, for, to my mind, going fast is one of the greatest pleasures which Paris offers.
Having accepted an invitation to dinner at the X. C. V.‘s, I did not give myself much time for sleep, and I went out on foot with a cloak on. The snow was falling in large flakes81, and when I got to madame’s I was as white as a sheet from head to foot. She gave me a hearty82 welcome, laughing, and saying that her daughter had been telling her how she had puzzled me, and that she was delighted to see me come to dinner without ceremony. “But,” added she, “it’s Friday today, and you will have to fast, though, after all, the fish is very good. Dinner is not ready yet. You had better go and see my daughter, who is still a-bed.”
As may be imagined, this invitation had not to be repeated, for a pretty woman looks better in bed than anywhere else. I found Mdlle. X. C. V. sitting up in bed writing, but she stopped as soon as she saw me.
“How is this, sweet lie-a-bed, not up yet?”
“Yes, I am staying in bed partly because I feel lazy, and partly because I am freer here.”
“I was afraid you were not quite well.”
“Nor am I. However, we will say no more about that now. I am just going to take some soup, as those who foolishly establish the institution of fasting were not polite enough to ask my opinion on the subject. It does not agree with my health, and I don’t like it, so I am not going to get up even to sit at table, though I shall thus deprive myself of your society.”
I naturally told her that in her absence dinner would have no savour; and I spoke the truth.
As the presence of her sister did not disturb us, she took out of her pocket-book an epistle in verse which I had addressed to her when her mother had forbidden me the house. “This fatal letter,” said she, “which you called ‘The Phoenix83,’ has shaped my life and may prove the cause of my death.”
I had called it the Phoenix because, after bewailing my unhappy lot, I proceeded to predict how she would afterwards give her heart to a mortal whose qualities would make him deserve the name of Phoenix. A hundred lines were taken up in the description of these imaginary mental and moral characteristics, and certainly the being who should have them all would be right worthy of worship, for he would be rather a god than a man.
“Alas!” said Mdlle. X. C. V., “I fell in love with this imaginary being, and feeling certain that such an one must exist I set myself to look for him. After six months I thought I had found him. I gave him my heart, I received his, we loved each other fondly. But for the last four months we have been separated, and during the whole time I have only had one letter from him. Yet I must not blame him, for I know he cannot help it. Such, is my sorry fate: I can neither hear from him nor write to him:”
This story was a confirmation84 of a theory of mine namely, that the most important events in our lives proceed often from the most trifling85 causes. My epistle was nothing better than a number of lines of poetry more or less well written, and the being I had delineated was certainly not to be found, as he surpassed by far all human perfections, but a woman’s heart travels so quickly and so far! Mdlle. X. C. V. took the thing literally86, and fell in love with a chimera87 of goodness, and then was fain to turn this into a real lover, not thinking of the vast difference between the ideal and the real. For all that, when she thought that she had found the original of my fancy portrait, she had no difficulty in endowing him with all the good qualities I had pictured. Of course Mdlle. X. C. V. would have fallen in love if I had never written her a letter in verse, but she would have done so in a different manner, and probably with different results.
As soon as dinner was served we were summoned to do justice to the choice fish which M. de la Popeliniere had provided. Madame X. C. V. a narrowminded Greek, was naturally bigoted88 and superstitious89. In the mind of a silly woman the idea of an alliance between the most opposite of beings, God and the Devil, seems quite natural. A priest had told her that, since she had converted her husband, her salvation90 was secure, for the Scriptures91 solemnly promised a soul for a soul to every one who would lead a heretic or a heathen within the fold of the church. And as Madame X. C. V. had converted her husband, she felt no anxiety about the life of the world to come, as she had done all that was necessary. However, she ate fish on the days appointed; the reason being that she preferred it to flesh.
Dinner over, I returned to the lady’s bedside, and there stayed till nearly nine o’clock, keeping my passions well under control all the time. I was foppish92 enough to think that her feelings were as lively as mine, and I did not care to shew myself less self-restrained than she, though I knew then, as I know now, that this was a false line of argument. It is the same with opportunity as with fortune; one must seize them when they come to us, or else they go by, often to return no more.
Not seeing Farsetti at the table, I suspected there had been a quarrel, and I asked my sweetheart about it; but she told me I was mistaken in supposing they had quarreled with him, and that the reason of his absence was that he would never leave his house on a Friday. The deluded man had had his horoscope drawn93, and learning by it that he would be assassinated94 on a Friday he resolved always to shut himself up on that day. He was laughed at, but persisted in the same course till he died four years ago at the age of seventy. He thought to prove by the success of his precautions that a man’s destiny depends on his discretion, and on the precautions he takes to avoid the misfortunes of which he has had warning. The line of argument holds good in all cases except when the misfortunes are predicted in a horoscope; for either the ills predicted are avoidable, in which case the horoscope is a useless piece of folly95, or else the horoscope is the interpreter of destiny, in which case all the precautions in the world are of no avail. The Chevalier Farsetti was therefore a fool to imagine he had proved anything at all. He would have proved a good deal for many people if he had gone out on a Friday, and had chanced to have been assassinated. Picas de la Mirandola, who believed in astrology, says, “I have no doubt truly, ‘Astra influunt, non cogunt’. “But would it have been a real proof of the truth of astrology, if Farsetti had been assassinated on a Friday? In my opinion, certainly not.
The Comte d’Eigreville had introduced me to his sister, the Comtesse du Remain, who had been wanting to make my acquaintance ever since she had heard of my oracle96. It was not long before I made friends with her husband and her two daughters, the elder of whom, nicknamed “Cotenfau,” married M. de Polignac later on. Madame du Remain was handsome rather than pretty, but she won the love of all by her kindness, her frank courtesy, and her eagerness to be of service to her friends. She had a magnificent figure, and would have awed97 the whole bench of judges if she had pleaded before them.
At her house I got to know Mesdames de Valbelle and de Rancerolles, the Princess de Chimai, and many others who were then in the best society of Paris. Although Madame du Remain was not a proficient98 in the occult sciences, she had nevertheless consulted my oracle more frequently than Madame d’Urfe. She was of the utmost service to me in connection with an unhappy circumstance of which I shall speak presently.
The day after my long conversation with Mdlle. X. C. V., my servant told me that there was a young man waiting who wanted to give me a letter with his own hands. I had him in, and on my asking him from whom the letter came, he replied that I should find all particulars in the letter, and that he had orders to wait for an answer. The epistle ran as follows:
“I am writing this at two o’clock in the morning. I am weary and in need of rest, but a burden on my soul deprives me of sleep. The secret I am about to tell you will no longer be so grievous when I have confided99 in you; I shall feel eased by placing it in your breast. I am with child, and my situation drives me to despair. I was obliged to write to you because I felt I could not say it. Give me a word in reply.”
My feelings on reading the above may be guessed. I was petrified100 with astonishment101 and could only write, “I will be with you at eleven o’clock.”
No one should say that he has passed through great misfortunes unless they have proved too great for his mind to bear. The confidence of Mdlle. X. C. V. shewed me that she was in need of support. I congratulated myself on having the preference, and I vowed102 to do my best for her did it cost me my life. These were the thoughts of a lover, but for all that I could not conceal7 from myself the imprudence of the step she had taken. In such cases as these there is always the choice between speaking or writing, and the only feeling which can give the preference to writing is false shame, at bottom mere103 cowardice104. If I had not been in love with her, I should have found it easier to have refused my aid in writing than if she had spoken to me, but I loved her to distraction105.
“Yes,” said I to myself, “she can count on me. Her mishap106 makes her all the dearer to me.”
And below this there was another voice, a voice which whispered to me that if I succeeded in saving her my reward was sure. I am well aware that more than one grave moralist will fling stones at me for this avowal107, but my answer is that such men cannot be in love as I was.
I was punctual to my appointment, and found the fair unfortunate at the door of the hotel.
“You are going out, are you? Where are you going?”
“I am going to mass at the Church of the Augustinians.”
“Is this a saint’s day?”
“No; but my mother makes me go every day.”
“I will come with you.”
“Yes do, give me your arm; we will go into the cloisters108 and talk there.”
Mdlle. X. C. V. was accompanied by her maid, but she knew better than to be in the way, so we left her in the cloisters. As soon as we were alone she said to me,
“Have you read my letter?”
“Yes, of course; here it is, burn it yourself.”
“No, keep it, and do so with your own hands.”
“I see you trust in me, and I assure you I will not abuse your trust.”
“I am sure you will not. I am four months with child; I can doubt it no longer, and the thought maddens me!”
“Comfort yourself, we will find some way to get over it.”
“Yes; I leave all to you. You must procure109 an abortion110.”
“Never, dearest! that is a crime!”
“Alas! I know that well; but it is not a greater crime than suicide, and there lies my choice: either to destroy the wretched witness of my shame, or to poison myself. For the latter alternative I have everything ready. You are my only friend, and it is for you to decide which it shall be. Speak to me! Are you angry that I have not gone to the Chevalier Farsetti before you?”
She saw my astonishment, and stopped short, and tried to wipe away the tears which escaped from her eyes. My heart bled for her.
“Laying the question of crime on one side,” said I, “abortion is out of our power. If the means employed are not violent they are uncertain, and if they are violent they are dangerous to the mother. I will never risk becoming your executioner; but reckon on me, I will not forsake112 you. Your honour is as dear to me as your life. Becalm, and henceforth think that the peril113 is mine, not yours. Make up your mind that I shall find some way of escape, and that there will be no need to cut short that life, to preserve which I would gladly die. And allow me to say that when I read your note I felt glad, I could not help it, that at such an emergency you chose me before all others to be your helper. You will find that your trust was not given in vain, for no one loves you as well as I, and no one is so fain to help you. Later you shall begin to take the remedies I will get for you, but I warn you to be on your guard, for this is a serious matter — one of life and death. Possibly you have already told somebody about it — your maid or one of your sisters?”
“I have not told anybody but you, not even the author of my shame. I tremble when I think what my mother would do and say if she found out my situation. I am afraid she will draw her conclusions from my shape.”
“So far there is nothing to be observed in that direction, the beauty of the outline still remains114 intact.”
“But every day increases its size, and for that reason we must be quick in what we do. You must find a surgeon who does not know my name and take me to him to be bled.”
“I will not run the risk, it might lead to the discovery of the whole affair. I will bleed you myself; it is a simple operation.”
“How grateful I am to you! I feel as if you had already brought me from death to life. What I should like you to do would be to take me to a midwife’s. We can easily go without attracting any notice at the first ball at the opera.”
“Yes, sweetheart, but that step is not necessary, and it might lead to our betrayal.”
“No, no, in this great town there are midwives in every quarter, and we should never be known; we might keep our masks on all the time. Do me this kindness. A midwife’s opinion is certainly worth having.”
I could not refuse her request, but I made her agree to wait till the last ball, as the crowd was always greater, and we had a better chance of going out free from observation. I promised to be there in a black domino with a white mask in the Venetian fashion, and a rose painted beside the left eye. As soon as she saw me go out she was to follow me into a carriage. All this was carried out, but more of it anon.
I returned with her, and dined with them without taking any notice of Farsetti, who was also at the table, and had seen me come back from mass with her. We did not speak a word to one another; he did not like me and I despised him.
I must here relate a grievous mistake of which I was guilty, and which I have not yet forgiven myself.
I had promised to take Mdlle. X. C. V. to a midwife, but I certainly ought to have taken her to a respectable woman’s, for all we wanted to know was how a pregnant woman should regulate her diet and manner of living. But my evil genius took me by the Rue St. Louis, and there I saw the Montigni entering her house with a pretty girl whom I did not know, and so out of curiosity I went in after them. After amusing myself there, with Mdlle. X. C. V. running in my head all the time, I asked the woman to give me the address of a midwife, as I wanted to consult one. She told me of a house in the Marais, where according to her dwelt the pearl of midwives, and began telling me some stories of her exploits, which all went to prove that the woman was an infamous115 character. I took her address, however, and as I should have to go there by night, I went the next day to see where the house was.
Mdlle. X. C. V. began to take the remedies which I brought her, which ought to have weakened and destroyed the result of love, but as she did not experience any benefit, she was impatient to consult a midwife. On the night of the last ball she recognized me as we had agreed, and followed me out into the coach she saw me enter, and in less than a quarter of an hour we reached the house of shame.
A woman of about fifty received us with great politeness, and asked what she could do.
Mdlle. X. C. V. told her that she believed herself pregnant, and that she desired some means of concealing116 her misfortune. The wretch111 answered with a smile that she might as well tell her plainly that it would be easy to procure abortion. “I will do your business,” said she, “for fifty Louis, half to be paid in advance on account of drugs, and the rest when it’s all over. I will trust in your honesty, and you will have to trust in mine. Give me the twenty-five Louis down, and come or send to-morrow for the drugs, and instructions for using them.”
So saying she turned up her clothes without any ceremony, and as I, at Mdlle. X. C. V.‘s request, looked away, she felt her and pronounced, as she let down her dress, that she was not beyond the fourth month.
“If my drugs,” said she, “contrary to my expectation, do not do any good, we will try some other ways, and, in any case, if I do not succeed in obliging you I will return you your money.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” said I, “but would you tell me what are those other ways!”
“I should tell the lady how to destroy the foetus.”
I might have told her that to kill the child meant giving a mortal wound to the mother, but I did not feel inclined to enter into a argument with this vile50 creature.
“If madame decides on taking your advice,” said I, “I will bring you the money for drugs to-morrow.”
I gave her two Louis and left. Mdlle. X. C. V. told me that she had no doubt of the infamy117 of this woman, as she was sure it was impossible to destroy the offspring without the risk of killing118 the mother also. “My only trust,” said she, “is in you.” I encouraged her in this idea, dissuading119 her from any criminal attempts, and assured her over and over again that she should not find her trust in me misplaced. All at once she complained of feeling cold, and asked if we had not time to warm ourselves in Little Poland, saying that she longed to see my pretty house. I was surprised and delighted with the idea. The night was too dark for her to see the exterior120 charms of my abode, she would have to satisfy herself with the inside, and leave the rest to her imagination. I thought my hour had come. I made the coach stop and we got down and walked some way, and then took another at the corner of the Rue de la Ferannerie. I promised the coachman six francs beyond his fare, and in a quarter of an hour he put us down at my door.
I rang with the touch of the master, the Pearl opened the door, and told me that there was nobody within, as I very well knew, but it was her habit to do so.
“Quick!” said I, “light us a fire, and bring some glasses and a bottle of champagne121.”
“Would you like an omelette?”
“Very well.”
“Oh, I should like an omelette so much!” said Mdlle. X. C. V. She was ravishing, and her laughing air seemed to promise me a moment of bliss122. I sat down before the blazing fire and made her sit on my knee, covering her with kisses which she gave me back as lovingly. I had almost won what I wanted when she asked me in a sweet voice to stop. I obeyed, thinking it would please her, feeling sure that she only delayed my victory to make it more complete, and that she would surrender after the champagne. I saw love, kindness, trust, and gratitude123 shining in her face, and I should have been sorry for her to think that I claimed her as a mere reward. No, I wanted her love, and nothing but her love.
At last we got to our last glass of champagne, we rose from the table, and sentimentally124 but with gentle force I laid her on a couch and held her amorously126 in my arms. But instead of giving herself up to my embraces she resisted them, at first by those prayers which usually make lovers more enterprising, then by serious remonstrances127, and at last by force. This was too much, the mere idea of using violence has always shocked me, and I am still of opinion that the only pleasure in the amorous125 embrace springs from perfect union and agreement. I pleaded my cause in every way, I painted myself as the lover flattered, deceived, despised! At last I told her that I had had a cruel awakening128, and I saw that the shaft129 went home. I fell on my knees and begged her to forgive me. “Alas!” said she, in a voice full of sadness, “I am no longer mistress of my heart, and have far greater cause for grief than you.” The tears flowed fast down her cheeks, her head rested on my shoulder, and our lips met; but for all that the piece was over. The idea of renewing the attack never came into my head, and if it had I should have scornfully rejected it. After a long silence, of which we both stood in need, she to conquer her shame, and I to repress my anger, we put on our masks and returned to the opera. On our way she dared to tell me that she should be obliged to decline my friendship if she had to pay for it so dearly.
“The emotions of love,” I replied, “should yield to those of honour, and your honour as well as mine require us to continue friends. What I would have done for love I will now do for devoted friendship, and for the future I will die rather than make another attempt to gain those favours of which I thought you deemed me worthy.”
We separated at the opera, and the vast crowd made me lose sight of her in an instant. Next day she told me that she had danced all night. She possibly hoped to find in that exercise the cure which no medicine seemed likely to give her.
I returned to my house in a bad humour, trying in vain to justify130 a refusal which seemed humiliating and almost incredible. My good sense shewed me, in spite of all sophisms, that I had been grievously insulted. I recollected131 the witty132 saying of Populia, who was never unfaithful to her husband except when she was with child; “Non tollo vectorem,” said she, “nisi navi plena.”
I felt certain that I was not loved, and the thought grieved me; and I considered that it would be unworthy of me to love one whom I could no longer hope to possess. I resolved to avenge40 myself by leaving her to her fate, feeling that I could not allow myself to be duped as I had been.
The night brought wisdom with it, and when I awoke in the morning my mind was calm and I was still in love. I determined to act generously by the unfortunate girl. Without my aid she would be ruined; my course, then, would be to continue my services and to shew myself indifferent to her favours. The part was no easy one, but I played it right well, and at last my reward came of itself.
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1
instilled
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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3
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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4
dissimulation
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| n.掩饰，虚伪，装糊涂 | |
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5
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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6
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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7
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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8
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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9
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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10
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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11
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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12
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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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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14
expend
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| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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15
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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16
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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17
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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18
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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19
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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20
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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23
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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24
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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25
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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26
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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27
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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28
sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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29
payable
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| adj.可付的，应付的，有利益的 | |
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30
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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31
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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32
landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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33
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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34
bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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35
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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36
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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37
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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39
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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40
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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41
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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42
profligacy
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| n.放荡，不检点，肆意挥霍 | |
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43
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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44
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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45
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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46
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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47
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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48
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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49
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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50
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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51
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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52
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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53
charlatan
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| n.骗子；江湖医生；假内行 | |
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54
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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55
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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56
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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57
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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58
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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59
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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61
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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62
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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63
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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64
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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65
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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66
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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67
scion
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| n.嫩芽，子孙 | |
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68
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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69
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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70
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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71
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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73
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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74
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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75
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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76
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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77
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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78
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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79
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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80
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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81
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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82
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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83
phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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84
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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85
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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86
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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87
chimera
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| n.神话怪物；梦幻 | |
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88
bigoted
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| adj.固执己见的，心胸狭窄的 | |
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89
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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90
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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92
foppish
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| adj.矫饰的，浮华的 | |
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93
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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97
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
proficient
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| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
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99
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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100
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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101
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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102
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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103
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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104
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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105
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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106
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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107
avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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108
cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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109
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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110
abortion
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| n.流产，堕胎 | |
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111
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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112
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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113
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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114
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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115
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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116
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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117
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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118
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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119
dissuading
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| 劝（某人）勿做某事，劝阻( dissuade的现在分词 ) | |
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120
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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121
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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122
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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123
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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124
sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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125
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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126
amorously
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| adv.好色地，妖艳地；脉；脉脉；眽眽 | |
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127
remonstrances
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| n.抱怨，抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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128
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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129
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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130
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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131
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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