The Opera-BouffeO how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of anApril day; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And byand by a cloud takes all away!
SHAKESPEAREOccupied with thoughts of the future and of the singular part whichshe hoped to play, Mathilde soon came to look back with regret upon thedry, metaphysical discussions which she often had with Julien. Weariedwith keeping her thoughts on so high a plane, sometimes also she wouldsigh for the moments of happiness which she had found in his company;these memories were not untouched by remorse1, which at certain moments overwhelmed her.
'But if one has a weakness,' she said to herself, 'it is incumbent2 upon agirl like myself to forget her duties only for a man of merit; people willnot be able to say that it was his handsome moustaches or his elegantseat on a horse that seduced3 me, but his profound discussions of the future in store for France, his ideas as to the resemblance the events thatare going to burst upon us may bear to the Revolution of 1688 in England. I have been seduced,' she answered the voice of remorse, 'I am aweak woman, but at least I have not been led astray like a puppet by outward advantages.
'If there be a Revolution, why should not Julien Sorel play the part ofRoland, and I that of Madame Roland? I prefer that to the part of Madame de Stael: immoral4 conduct will be an obstacle in our time. Certainly they shall not reproach me with a second lapse5; I should die ofshame.'
Mathilde's meditations6 were not all as grave, it must be admitted, asthe thoughts we have just transcribed7.
She would look at Julien, and found a charming grace in his most trivial actions.
'No doubt,' she said to herself, 'I have succeeded in destroying everyidea in his mind that he has certain rights.
'The air of misery8 and profound passion with which the poor boy addressed those words of love to me a week ago, is proof positive; I mustconfess that it was extraordinary in me to be vexed9 by a speech so fervent10 with respect and passion. Am I not his wife? That speech was onlynatural, and, I am bound to say, quite agreeable. Julien still loved meafter endless conversations, in which I had spoken to him, and with greatcruelty, I admit, only of the feelings of love which the boredom13 of the lifeI lead had inspired in me for the young men in society of whom he is sojealous. Ah, if he knew how little danger there is in them for me! Howlifeless they seem to me when compared with him, all copies of eachother.'
As she made these reflections, Mathilde was tracing lines with a pencilat random14 on a page of her album. One of the profiles as she finished itstartled and delighted her: it bore a striking resemblance to Julien. 'It isthe voice of heaven! This is one of the miracles of love,' she cried in atransport, 'quite unconsciously I have drawn15 his portrait.'
She fled to her room, locked herself in, set to work, tried seriously tomake a portrait of Julien, but could not succeed; the profile drawn at random was still the best likeness16. Mathilde was enchanted17; she saw in it aclear proof of her grand passion.
She did not lay aside her album until late in the evening, when theMarquise sent for her to go to the Italian opera. She had only one idea, tocatch Julien's eye, so as to make her mother invite him to join them.
He did not appear; the ladies had only the most commonplace peoplein their box. During the whole of the first act of the opera, Mathilde satdreaming of the man whom she loved with transports of the most intense passion; but in the second act a maxim18 of love sung, it must be admitted, to a melody worthy19 of Cimarosa, penetrated20 her heart. Theheroine of the opera said: 'I must be punished for all the adoration21 that Ifeel for him, I love him too well!'
The moment she had heard this sublime22 cantilena, everything that existed in the world vanished from Mathilde's ken12. People spoke11 to her; shedid not answer; her mother scolded her, it was all she could do to look ather. Her ecstasy23 reached a state of exaltation and passion comparable tothe most violent emotions that, during the last few days, Julien had felt for her. The cantilena, divinely graceful24, to which was sung the maximthat seemed to her to bear so striking an application to her own situation,occupied every moment in which she was not thinking directly of Julien.
Thanks to her love of music, she became that evening as Madame deRenal invariably was when thinking of him. Love born in the brain ismore spirited, doubtless, than true love, but it has only flashes of enthusiasm; it knows itself too well, it criticises itself incessantly27; so far frombanishing thought, it is itself reared only upon a structure of thought.
On her return home, in spite of anything that Madame de La Molemight say, Mathilde alleged29 an attack of fever, and spent part of thenight playing over the cantilena on her piano. She sang the words of thefamous aria25 which had charmed her:
Devo punirmi, devo punirmi, Se troppo amai.
The result of this night of madness was that she imagined herself tohave succeeded in conquering her love. (This page will damage the unfortunate author in more ways than one. The frigid30 hearts will accuse itof indecency. It does not offer the insult to the young persons who shinein the drawing-rooms of Paris, of supposing that a single one of theirnumber is susceptible31 to the mad impulses which degrade the characterof Mathilde. This character is wholly imaginary, and is indeed imaginedquite apart from the social customs which among all the ages will assureso distinguished32 a place to the civilisation33 of the nineteenth century.
It is certainly not prudence34 that is lacking in the young ladies whohave been the ornament35 of the balls this winter.
Nor do I think that one can accuse them of unduly36 despising a brilliantfortune, horses, fine properties, and everything that ensures an agreeableposition in society. So far from their seeing nothing but boredom in allthese advantages, they are as a rule the object of their most constant desires, and if there is any passion in their hearts it is for them.
Neither is it love that provides for the welfare of young men endowedwith a certain amount of talent like Julien; they attach themselves inseparably to a certain set, and when the set 'arrives', all the good things ofsociety rain upon them. Woe37 to the student who belongs to no set, evenhis minute and far from certain successes will be made a reproach tohim, and the higher virtue38 will triumph over him as it robs him. Ah, Sir,a novel is a mirror carried along a high road. At one moment it reflects toyour vision the azure39 skies, at another the mire40 of the puddles42 at yourfeet. And the man who carries this mirror in his pack will be accused byyou of being immoral! His mirror shows the mire, and you blame the mirror! Rather blame that high road upon which the puddle41 lies, stillmore the inspector43 of roads who allows the water to gather and thepuddle to form.
Now that it is quite understood that the character of Mathilde is impossible in our age, no less prudent44 than virtuous45, I am less afraid ofcausing annoyance46 by continuing the account of the follies47 of this charming girl.)Throughout the whole of the day that followed she looked out for opportunities to assure herself that she had indeed conquered her insanepassion. Her main object was to displease48 Julien in every way; but noneof her movements passed unperceived by him.
Julien was too wretched and above all, too greatly agitated50, to interpret so complicated a stratagem51 of passion, still less could he discern allthe promise that it held out to himself: he fell a victim to it; never perhaps had his misery been so intense. His actions were so little under thecontrol of his mind that if some morose52 philosopher had said to him:
'Seek to take advantage rapidly of a disposition53 which for the moment isfavourable to you; in this sort of brain-fed love, which we see in Paris,the same state of mind cannot continue for more than a couple of days,'
he would not have understood. But, excited as he might be, Julien had asense of honour. His first duty was discretion54; so much he did understand. To ask for advice, to relate his agony to the first comer wouldhave been a happiness comparable to that of the wretch49 who, crossing aburning desert, receives from the sky a drop of ice-cold water. He wasaware of the danger, he was afraid of answering with a torrent55 of tearsthe indiscreet person who should question him; he closeted himself inhis room.
He saw Mathilde strolling late and long in the garden; when at lengthshe had left it, he went down there; he made his way to a rose tree fromwhich she had plucked a rose.
The night was dark, he could indulge the full extent of his miserywithout fear of being seen. It was evident to him that Mademoiselle deLa Mole28 was in love with one of those young officers to whom she hadbeen chattering56 so gaily57. He himself had been loved by her, but she hadseen how slight were his merits.
'And indeed, they are slight!' Julien told himself with entire conviction;'I am, when all is said, a very dull creature, very common, very tediousto others, quite insupportable to myself.' He was sick to death of all hisown good qualities, of all the things that he had loved with enthusiasm; and in this state of inverted58 imagination he set to work to criticise26 lifewith his imagination. This is an error that stamps a superior person.
More than once the idea of suicide occurred to him; this image was fullof charm, it was like a delicious rest; it was the glass of ice-cold wateroffered to the wretch who, in the desert, is dying of thirst and heat.
'My death will increase the scorn that she feels for me!' he exclaimed.
'What a memory I shall leave behind me!'
Sunk into the nethermost59 abyss of misery, a human being has no resource left but courage. Julien had not wisdom enough to say to himself:
'I must venture all'; but as he looked up at the window of Mathilde'sroom, he could see through the shutters61 that she was putting out herlight: he pictured to himself that charming room which he had seen, alas,once only in his life. His imagination went no farther.
One o'clock struck; from hearing the note of the bell to saying to himself: 'I am going up by the ladder,' did not take a moment.
This was a flash of genius, cogent62 reasons followed in abundance. 'CanI possibly be more wretched?' he asked himself. He ran to the ladder, thegardener had made it fast with a chain. With the hammer of one of hispocket pistols, which he broke, Julien, animated63 for the moment by a superhuman force, wrenched64 open one of the iron links of the chain whichbound the ladder; in a few minutes it was free, and he had placed itagainst Mathilde's window.
'She will be angry, will heap contempt upon me, what of that? I giveher a kiss, a final kiss, I go up to my room and kill myself … ; my lipswill have touched her cheek before I die!'
He flew up the ladder, tapped at the shutter60; a moment later Mathildeheard him, she tried to open the shutter, the ladder kept it closed. Julienclung to the iron latch65 intended to hold the shutter open, and, risking athousand falls, gave the ladder a violent shake, and displaced it a little.
Mathilde was able to open the shutter.
He flung himself into the room more dead than alive: 'So it is you!' shesaid, and fell into his arms …What words can describe the intensity66 of Julien's happiness?
Mathilde's was almost as great.
She spoke to him against herself, she accused herself to him.
'Punish me for my atrocious pride,' she said to him, squeezing him inher arms as though to strangle him; 'you are my master, I am your slave,I must beg pardon upon my knees for having sought to rebel.' Sheslipped from his embrace to fall at his feet. 'Yes, you are my master,' shesaid again, intoxicated67 with love and joy; 'reign68 over me for ever, punishyour slave severely69 when she seeks to rebel.'
In another moment she had torn herself from his arms, lighted thecandle, and Julien had all the difficulty in the world in preventing herfrom cutting off all one side of her hair.
'I wish to remind myself,' she told him, 'that I am your servant: shouldmy accursed pride ever make me forget it, show me these locks and say:
"There is no question now of love, we are not concerned with the emotion that your heart may be feeling at this moment, you have sworn toobey, obey upon your honour."'
But it is wiser to suppress the description of so wild a felicity.
Julien's chivalry70 was as great as his happiness; 'I must go down nowby the ladder,' he said to Mathilde, when he saw the dawn appear overthe distant chimneys to the east, beyond the gardens. The sacrifice that Iam imposing71 on myself is worthy of you, I am depriving myself of somehours of the most astounding72 happiness that a human soul can enjoy, itis a sacrifice that I am offering to your reputation: if you know my heartyou appreciate the effort that I have to make. Will you always be to mewhat you are at this moment? But the voice of honour speaks, it isenough. Let me tell you that, since our first meeting, suspicion has notbeen directed only against robbers. M. de La Mole has set a watch in thegarden. M. de Croisenois is surrounded by spies, we know what he is,doing night by night … '
When she heard this idea, Mathilde burst out laughing. Her motherand one of the maids were aroused: immediately they called to herthrough the door. Julien looked at her, she turned pale as she scolded themaid, and did not condescend73 to speak to her mother.
'But if it should occur to them to open the window, they will see theladder!' Julien said to her.
He clasped her once more in his arms, sprang on to the ladder and slidrather than climbed down it; in a moment he was on the ground.
Three seconds later the ladder was under the lime alley74, andMathilde's honour was saved. Julien, on recovering his senses, found himself bleeding copiously75 and half naked: he had cut himself in hisheadlong descent.
The intensity of his happiness had restored all the energy of his nature:
had a score of men appeared before him, to attack them single-handedwould, at that moment, have been but a pleasure the more. Fortunately,his martial76 valour was not put to the proof: he laid down the ladder in itsaccustomed place; he replaced the chain that fastened it; he did not forget to come back and obliterate77 the print which the ladder had left in theborder of exotic flowers beneath Mathilde's window.
As in the darkness he explored the loose earth with his hand, to makesure that the mark was entirely78 obliterated79, he felt something drop on hishand; it was a whole side of Mathilde's hair which she had clipped andthrew down to him.
She was at her window.
'See what your servant sends you,' she said in audible tones, 'it is thesign of eternal obedience80. I renounce81 the exercise of my own reason; bemy master.'
Julien, overcome, was on the point of fetching back the ladder andmounting again to her room. Finally reason prevailed.
To enter the house from the garden was by no means easy. He succeeded in forcing the door of a cellar; once in the house he was obliged tobreak open, as silently as possible, the door of his own room. In his confusion he had left everything behind, including the key, which was in thepocket of his coat. 'Let us hope,' he thought, 'that she will remember tohide all that corpus delicti!'
Finally exhaustion82 overpowered happiness, and, as the sun rose, hefell into a profound slumber83.
The luncheon84 bell just succeeded in waking him, he made his appearance in the dining-room. Shortly afterwards, Mathilde entered the room.
Julien's pride tasted a momentary85 joy when he saw the love that glowedin the eyes of this beautiful creature, surrounded by every mark of deference86; but soon his prudence found an occasion for alarm.
On the pretext87 of not having had time to dress her hair properly,Mathilde had so arranged it that Julien could see at a glance the wholeextent of the sacrifice that she had made for him in clipping her locksthat night. If anything could have spoiled so lovely a head, Mathildewould have succeeded in spoiling hers; all one side of those beautifulpale golden locks were cropped to within half an inch of her scalp.
At luncheon, Mathilde's whole behaviour was in keeping with this original imprudence. You would have said that she was deliberately88 tryingto let everyone see the insane passion that she had for Julien. Fortunately, that day, M. de La Mole and the Marquise were greatly takenup with a list of forthcoming promotions89 to the Blue Riband, in whichthe name of M. de Chaulnes had not been included. Towards the end ofthe meal, Mathilde in talking to Julien addressed him as 'my master'. Hecoloured to the whites of his eyes.
Whether by accident or by the express design of Madame de La Mole,Mathilde was not left alone for an instant that day. In the evening,however, as she passed from the dining-room to the drawing-room, shefound an opportunity of saying to Julien:
'I hope you do not think that it is my idea: Mamma has just decidedthat one of her maids is to sleep in my room.'
The day passed like lightning; Julien was on the highest pinnacle91 ofhappiness. By seven o'clock next morning he was installed in the library;he hoped that Mademoiselle de La Mole would deign92 to appear there; hehad written her an endless letter.
He did not see her until several hours had passed, at luncheon. Herhead was dressed on this occasion with the greatest pains; a marvellousart had been employed to conceal93 the gap left by the clipped locks. Shelooked once or twice at Julien, but with polite, calm eyes; there was nolonger any question of her calling him 'my master'.
Julien could not breathe for astonishment94 … Mathilde found fault withherself for almost everything that she had done for him.
On mature reflection, she had decided90 that he was a creature, if not altogether common, at any rate not sufficiently95 conspicuous96 to deserve allthe strange follies which she had ventured to commit for him. On thewhole, she no longer thought of love; she was tired of love that day.
As for Julien, the emotions of his heart were those of a boy of sixteen.
Harrowing doubt, bewilderment, despair, seized upon him by turns during this luncheon, which seemed to him to be everlasting97.
As soon as he could decently rise from table, he flew rather than ran tothe stable, saddled his horse himself and was off at a gallop98; he wasafraid of disgracing himself by some sign of weakness. 'I must kill myheart by physical exhaustion,' he said to himself as he galloped99 throughthe woods of Meudon. 'What have I done, what have I said to deservesuch disgrace?
'I must do nothing, say nothing today,' he decided as he returned tothe house, 'be dead in body as I am in spirit. Julien no longer lives, it ishis corpse100 that is still stirring.'
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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transcribed
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| （用不同的录音手段）转录( transcribe的过去式和过去分词 )； 改编（乐曲）（以适应他种乐器或声部）； 抄写； 用音标标出（声音） | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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fervent
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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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ken
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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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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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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sublime
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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criticise
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incessantly
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mole
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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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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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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ornament
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unduly
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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displease
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| vt.使不高兴，惹怒；n.不悦，不满，生气 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nethermost
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| adj.最下面的 | |
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shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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cogent
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| adj.强有力的，有说服力的 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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74
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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80
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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81
renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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84
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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86
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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promotions
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| 促进( promotion的名词复数 )； 提升； 推广； 宣传 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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94
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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98
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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99
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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100
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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