Aigues-Vives
Left Le Havre the day before yesterday; yesterday arrived at Nîmes; my first journey! With no
housekeeping to do and no cooking to look after, and consequently with a slight feeling of idleness,
today, the 23rd May, 188-, my twenty-fifth birthday, I begin this journal – without much pleasure, a
little for the sake of company; for, perhaps for the first time in my life, I feel lonely – in a different, a
foreign land almost, one with which I have not yet made acquaintance. It has, no doubt, the same
things to say to me as Normandy – the same that I listen to untiringly at Fongueusemare – for God is
nowhere different from Himself – but this southern land speaks a language I have not yet heard, and
to which I listen wondering.
24th May
Juliette is dozing2 on a sofa near me – in the open gallery which is the chief charm of the house,
built as it is after the Italian fashion. The gallery opens on to the gravelled courtyard which is a
continuation of the garden. Without leaving her sofa, Juliette can see the lawn sloping down to the
piece of water, where a tribe of parti-coloured ducks disport3 themselves, and two swans sail. A
stream which, they say, never runs dry in the heat of any summer, feeds it and then flows through the
garden, which merges4 into a grove5 of ever-increasing wildness, more and more shut in by the bed of
a dried torrent6 on the one side and the vineyards on the other, and finally strangled altogether between
them.
Édouard Teissières yesterday showed my father the garden, the farm, the cellars, and the
vineyards, while I stayed behind with Juliette – so that this morning, while it was still very early, I
was able to make my first voyage of discovery in the park, by myself. A great many plants and
strange trees, whose names, however, I should have liked to know. I pick a twig7 of each of them so as
to be told what they are, at lunch. In some of them I recognize the evergreen8 oaks which Jérôme
admired in the gardens of the Villa9 Borghèse or Doria-Pamfili – so distantly related to our northern
tree, of such a different character! Almost at the further end of the park there is a narrow, mysterious
glade10 which they shelter, bending over a carpet of grass so soft to the feet that it seems an invitation
to the choir11 of nymphs. I wonder – I am almost scared that my feeling for nature, which at
Fongueusemare is so profoundly Christian12, should here become, in spite of myself, half pagan. And
yet the kind of awe13 which oppressed me more and more was religious too. I whispered the words:
‘hic nemus’. The air was crystalline; there was a strange silence. I was thinking of Orpheus, of
Armida, when all at once there rose a solitary14 bird’s song, so near me, so pathetic, so pure, that it
seemed suddenly as though all nature had been awaiting it. My heart beat violently; I stayed for a
moment leaning against a tree, and then came in before anyone was up.
26th May
Still no letter from Jérôme. If he had written to me at Le Havre, his letter would have been
forwarded... I can confide15 my anxiety to no one but this book; for the last three days I have not been
distracted from it for an instant, either by our excursion yesterday to Les Baux, or by reading, or by
prayer. Today I can write of nothing else; the curious melancholy16 from which I have been suffering
ever since I arrived at Aigues-Vives has, perhaps, no other cause – and yet I feel it at such a depth
within me that it seems to me now as if it had been there for a long time past, and as if the joy on
which I prided myself did no more than cover it over.
27th May
Why should I lie to myself? It is by an effort of mind that I rejoice in Juliette’s happiness. That
happiness which I longed for so much, to the extent of offering my own in sacrifice to it, is painful to
me, now that I see that she has obtained it without trouble, and that it is so different from what she
and I imagined. How complicated it all is! Yes... I see well enough that a horrible revival17 of egoism
in me is offended at her having found her happiness elsewhere than in my sacrifice – at her not
having needed my sacrifice in order to be happy.
And now I ask myself, as I feel what uneasiness Jérôme’s silence causes me: Was that sacrifice
really consummated18 in my heart? I am, as it were, humiliated19, to feel that God no longer exacts it.
Can it be that I was not equal to it?
28th May
How dangerous this analysis of my sadness is! I am already growing attached to this book. Is my
personal vanity, which I thought I had mastered, reasserting its rights here? No; may my soul never
use this journal as a flattering mirror before which to attire20 itself! It is not out of idleness that I write,
as I thought at first, but out of sadness. Sadness is a state of sin, which had ceased to be mine, which I
hate, from whose complications I wish to free my soul. This book must help me to find my happiness
in myself once more.
Sadness is a complication. I never used to analyse my happiness.
At Fongueusemare I was alone, too, still more alone – why did I not feel it? And when Jérôme
wrote to me from Italy, I was willing that he should see without me, that he should live without me; I
followed him in thought, and out of his joy I made my own. And now, in spite of myself, I want him;
without him every new thing I see is irksome to me.
10th June
Long interruption of this journal which I had scarcely begun; birth of little Lise; long hours of
watching beside Juliette; I take no pleasure in writing anything here that I can write to Jérôme. I
should like to keep myself from the intolerable fault which is common to so many women – that of
writing too much. Let me consider this notebook as a means of perfection.
There followed several pages of notes made in the course of her reading, extracts, etc. Then, dated from
Fongueusemare once more:
16th July
Juliette is happy; she says so, seems so; I have no right, no reason to doubt it. Whence comes this
feeling of dissatisfaction, of discomfort21, which I have now when I am with her? Perhaps from feeling
that such happiness is so practical, so easily obtained, so perfectly22 ‘to measure’ that it seems to cramp23
the soul and stifle24 it...
And I ask myself now whether it is really happiness that I desire, so much as the progress towards
happiness. Oh, Lord! preserve me from a happiness to which I might too easily attain25! Teach me to
put off my happiness, to place it as far away from me as Thou art.
Several pages here had been tom out; they referred, no doubt, to our painful meeting at Le Havre. The journal
did not begin again till the following year; the pages were not dated, but had certainly been written at the time of my
stay at Fongueusemare.
Sometimes as I listen to him talking I seem to be watching myself think. He explains me and
discovers me to myself. Should I exist without him? I am only when I am with him...
Sometimes I hesitate as to whether what I feel for him is really what people call love – the picture
that is generally drawn26 of love is so different from that which I should like to draw. I should like
nothing to be said about it, and to love him without knowing that I love him. I should like, above all,
to love him without his knowing it.
I no longer get any joy out of that part of life that has to be lived without him. My virtue27 is all
only to please him – and yet, when I am with him, I feel my virtue weakening.
I used to like learning the piano, because it seemed to me that I was able to make some progress
in it every day. That too, perhaps, is the secret of the pleasure I take in reading a book in a foreign
language; not, indeed, that I prefer any other language whatever to our own, or that the writers I
admire in it appear to me in any way inferior to those of other countries – but the slight difficulty that
lies in the pursuit of their meaning and feeling, the unconscious pride of overcoming this difficulty,
and of overcoming it more and more successfully, adds to my intellectual pleasure a certain spiritual
contentment, which it seems to me I cannot do without.
However blessed it might be, I cannot desire a state without progress. I imagine heavenly joy, not
as a confounding of the spirit with God, but as an infinite, a perpetual drawing near to Him... and if I
were not afraid of playing upon words I should say that I did not care for any joy that was not
progressive.
This morning we were sitting on the bench in the avenue; we were not talking, and did not feel
any need to talk... Suddenly he asked me if I believed in a future life.
‘Oh! Jérôme!’ I cried at once, ‘it is more than hope I have; it is certainty.’
And it seemed to me, on a sudden, that my whole faith had, as it were, been poured into that
exclamation28.
‘I should like to know,’ he added. He stopped a few moments; then: ‘Would you act differently
without your faith?’
‘How can I tell?’ I answered; and I added: ‘And you, my dear, you yourself, and in spite of
yourself, can no longer act otherwise than as if you were inspired by the liveliest faith. And I should
not love you if you were different.’
No, Jérôme, no, it is not after a future recompense that our virtue is striving; it is not for
recompense that our love is seeking. A generous soul is hurt by the idea of being rewarded for its
efforts; nor does it consider virtue an adornment29: no, virtue is the form of its beauty.
Papa is not so well again; nothing serious, I hope, but he has been obliged to go back to his milk
diet for the last three days.
Yesterday evening, Jérôme had just gone up to his room; Papa, who was sitting up with me for a
little, left me alone for a few minutes. I was sitting on the sofa, or rather – a thing I hardly ever do – I
was lying down, I don’t know why. The lamp-shade was shading my eyes and the upper part of my
body from the light; I was mechanically looking at my feet, which showed a little below my dress in
the light thrown upon them by the lamp. When Papa came back, he stood for a few moments at the
door, staring at me, oddly, half smiling, half sad. I got up with a vague feeling of shyness; then he
called me:
‘Come and sit beside me,’ said he; and, though it was already late, he began speaking to me about
my mother, which he had never done since their separation. He told me how he had married her, how
much he had loved her, and how much she had at first been to him.
‘Papa,’ I said to him at last, ‘do, please, say why you are telling me this this evening – what
makes you tell me this just this particular evening?’
‘Because, just now, when I came into the drawing-room and saw you lying on the sofa, I thought
for a moment it was your mother.’
The reason I asked this so insistently30 was because that very evening Jérôme was reading over my
shoulder, standing31 leaning over me. I could not see him, but I felt his breath and, as it were, the
warmth and pulsation32 of his body. I pretended to go on reading, but my mind had stopped working; I
could not even distinguish the lines; a perturbation so strange took possession of me that I was
obliged to get up from my chair quickly, whilst I still could; I managed to leave the room for a few
minutes, luckily without his noticing anything. But a little later, when I was alone in the drawing-
room and lay down on the sofa, where Papa thought I looked like my mother, at that very moment I
was thinking of her.
I slept very badly last night; I was disturbed, oppressed, miserable33, haunted by the recollection of
the past, which came over me like a wave of remorse34.
Lord, teach me the horror of all that has any appearance of evil.
Poor Jérôme! If he only knew that sometimes he would have but a single sign to make, and that
sometimes I wait for him to make it....
When I was a child, even then it was because of him that I wanted to be beautiful. It seems to me
now that I have never striven after perfection, except for him. And that this perfection can only be
attained35 without him, is of all Thy teachings, my God! the one that is most disconcerting to my soul.
How happy must that soul be for whom virtue is one with love! Sometimes I doubt whether there
is any other virtue than love... to love as much as possible and continually more and more... But at
other times, alas36! virtue appears to me to be nothing but resistance to love. What! shall I dare to call
that virtue which is the most natural inclination37 of my heart? Oh, tempting38 sophism39! Specious40
allurement41! Cunning mirage42 of happiness!
This morning I read in La Bruyère:
‘In the course of this life one sometimes meets with pleasures so dear, promises so tender, which
are yet forbidden us, that it is natural to desire at least that they might be permitted; charms so great
can be surpassed only when virtue teaches us to renounce43 them.’
Why did I invent here that there was anything forbidden? Can it be that I am secretly attracted by
a charm more powerful and a sweetness greater still than that of love? Oh! that it were possible to
carry our own souls forward together, by force of love, beyond love!
Alas! I understand now only too well; between God and him there is no other obstacle but myself.
If perhaps, as he says, his love for me at first inclined him to God, now that very love hinders him; he
lingers with me, prefers me, and I am become the idol44 that keeps him back from making further
progress in virtue. One of us two must needs attain to it; and as I despair of overcoming the love in
my coward heart, grant me, my God, vouchsafe45 me strength to teach him to love me no longer, so
that at the cost of my merits I may bring Thee his, which are so infinitely46 preferable... and if today my
soul sobs48 with grief at losing him, do I not lose him to find him again hereafter in Thee?
Tell me, oh, my God! what soul ever deserved Thee more? Was he not born for something better
than to love me? And should I love him so much if he were to stop short at myself? How much all
that might become heroic dwindles49 in the midst of happiness!
Sunday
‘God having provided some better thing for us.’
Monday 3rd May
To think that happiness is here, close by, offering itself, and that one only has to put out one’s
hand to grasp it...
This morning, as I was talking to him, I consummated the sacrifice.
Monday evening
He leaves tomorrow...
Dear Jérôme, I still love you with infinite tenderness; but never more shall I be able to tell you so.
The constraint51 which I lay upon my eyes, upon my lips, upon my soul, is so hard that to leave you is
a relief and a bitter satisfaction.
I strive to act according to reason, but at the moment of action the reasons which make me act
escape me, or appear foolish; I no longer believe in them.
The reasons which make me fly from him? I no longer believe in them... And yet I fly from him,
sadly and without understanding why I fly.
Lord! that we might advance towards Thee, Jérôme and I together, each beside the other, each
helping52 the other; that we might walk along the way of life like two pilgrims, of whom one says at
times to the other: ‘Lean on me, brother, if you are weary,’ and to whom the other replies: ‘It is
enough to feel you near me...’ But no! The way Thou teachest, Lord, is a narrow way – so narrow
that two cannot walk in it abreast53.
4th July
More than six weeks have gone by without my opening this book. Last month, as I was re-reading
some of its pages, I became aware of a foolish, wicked anxiety to write well... which I owe to him...
As though in this book, which I began only so as to help myself to do without him, I was
continuing to write to him.
I have tom up all the pages which seemed to me to be well written. (I know what I mean by this.)
I ought to have tom up all those in which there was any question of him. I ought to have tom them all
up, I could not.
And already, because I tore up those few pages, I had a little feeling of pride... a pride which I
should laugh at if my heart were not so sick.
It really seemed as though I had done something meritorious54, and as though what I had destroyed
had been of some importance!
6th July
I have been obliged to banish55 from my bookshelves...
I fly from him in one book only to find him in another. I hear his voice reading me even those
pages which I discover without him. I care only for what interests him, and my mind has taken the
form of his to such an extent, that I can distinguish one from the other no better than I did at the time
when I took pleasure in feeling they were one.
Sometimes I force myself to write badly in order to escape from the rhythm of his phrases; but
even to struggle against him is still to be concerned with him. I have made a resolution to read
nothing but the Bible (perhaps the Imitation), and to write nothing more in this book, except every
evening the chief text of my reading.
There followed a kind of diary, in which the date of each day, starting with July 1st, was accompanied by a text.
I transcribe56 only those which are accompanied by some commentary.
20th July
‘Sell all that thou hast and give it to the poor.’
I understand that I ought to give to the poor this heart of mine which belongs only to Jérôme. And
by so doing should I not teach him at the same time to do likewise?... Lord, grant me this courage.
24th July
I have stopped reading the Interior Consolation57. The old-fashioned language greatly charmed me,
but it was distracting, and the almost pagan joy it gives me is far removed from the edification which
I set myself to get from it.
I have taken up the Imitation again and not even in the Latin text, which I was vain of
understanding. I am glad that the translation in which I read it should not even be signed. It is true it
is Protestant, but ‘adapted to the use of all Christian communities,’ says the title.
‘Oh, if thou wert sensible how much peace thou wouldest procure58 for thyself and joy for others,
by rightly ordering thyself, methinks thou wouldest be more solicitous59 for thy spiritual progress!’
10th August
If I were to cry to Thee, my God, with the impulsive60 faith of a child and with the heavenly
tongues of angels...
All this comes to me, I know, not from Jérôme, but from Thee.
Why, then, between Thee and me, dost Thou everywhere set his image?
14th August
Only two months more in which to complete my work... Oh, Lord, grant me Thy help!
20th August
I feel – I feel by my unhappiness that the sacrifice is not consummated in my heart. My God,
grant that henceforth I owe to none but Thee the joy that he alone used to give me.
28th August
How mediocre61 and miserable is the virtue to which I attain! Do I then exact too much from
myself?... To suffer no more.
What cowardice62 makes me continually implore63 God for His strength? My prayers now are
nothing but complainings.
29th August
‘Consider the lilies of the field...’
This simple saying plunged64 me this morning into a sadness from which nothing could distract me.
I went out into the country and these words, which I kept continually repeating to myself, filled my
heart and eyes with tears. I contemplated65 the vast and empty plain where the labourer was toiling66,
bent67 over his plough... ‘The lilies of the field...’ But, Lord, where are they...?
16th September, 10 o’clock at night
I have seen him again. He is here under this roof. I see the light from his window shining on the
grass. He is still up as I write these lines, and perhaps he is thinking of me. He has not changed. He
says so and I feel it. Shall I be able to show myself to him such as I have resolved to be, so that his
love may disown me?
24th September
Oh, torturing conversation in which I succeeded in feigning68 indifference69 – coldness, when my
heart was fainting within me! Up till now I had contented70 myself with avoiding him. This morning I
was able to believe that God would give me strength to be victorious71 and that to slink for ever out of
the combat was to prove myself a coward. Did I triumph? Does Jérôme love me a little less? Alas! I
both hope and fear it together. I have never loved him more.
And if it is Thy will, Lord, that to save him from me I must compass my own perdition, so be it.
‘Enter into my heart and into my soul in order to bear in them my sufferings and to continue to
ensure in me what remains72 to Thee to suffer of Thy Passion.’
We spoke73 of Pascal... What did I say? What shameful74 foolish words? I suffered even as I uttered
them, but tonight I repent75 them as a blasphemy76. I turned again to the heavy volume of the Pensées,
which opened of itself at this passage in the letters to Mademoiselle de Roannez:
‘We do not feel our bonds as long as we follow willingly him who leads; but as soon as we begin
to resist and to draw away, then indeed we suffer.’
These words affected77 me so personally that I did not have strength to go on reading, but opening
the book in another place I came across an admirable passage which I did not know and which I have
just copied out.
The first volume of the Journal came to an end here. No doubt the next had been destroyed, for in the papers
which Alissa left behind the Journal did not begin again till three years later – still at Fongueusemare – in
September – a short time, that is to say, before our last meeting.
The last volume begins with the sentences which follow.
17th September
My God, Thou knowest I have need of him to love Thee.
20th September
My God, give him to me so that I may give Thee my heart.
My God, let me see him only once more.
My God, I engage to give Thee my heart. Grant me what my love beseeches78. I will give what
remains to me of life to Thee alone.
My God, forgive me this despicable prayer, but I cannot keep his name from my lips nor forget
the anguish79 of my heart. My God, I cry to Thee. Do not forsake80 me in my distress81.
21st September
‘Whatever ye shall ask the Father in my name...’
Lord, in Thy name, I dare not.
But though I no longer formulate82 my prayer, wilt83 Thou be the less aware of the delirious84 longing85
of my heart?
27th September
Ever since the morning a great calm. Spent nearly the whole night in meditation86, in prayer.
Suddenly I was conscious of a kind of luminous87 peace like the imagination I had as a child of the
Holy Ghost: it seemed to wrap me round, to descend88 into me. I went to bed at once fearing that my
joy was due only to nervous exaltation. I went to sleep fairly quickly without this felicity leaving me.
It is still here this morning in all its completeness. I have the certainty now that he will come.
30th September
Jérôme, my friend! you whom I still call brother, but whom I love infinitely more than a brother...
How many times I have cried your name in the beech89 copse! Every evening towards dusk I go out by
the little gate of the kitchen-garden and walk down the avenue where it is already dark. If you were
suddenly to answer me, if you were to appear there from behind the stony90 bank round which I so
eagerly seek you, or if I were to see you in the distance, seated on the bench waiting for me, my heart
would not leap... no! I am astonished at not seeing you.
1st October
Nothing yet. The sun has set in a sky of incomparable purity. I am waiting. I know that soon I
shall be sitting with him on this very bench. I hear his voice already. I like it so much when he says
my name. He will be here! I shall put my hand in his hand. I shall let my head lean on his shoulder. I
shall breathe beside him. Yesterday I brought out some of his letters with me to re-read, but I did not
look at them – I was too much taken up with the thought of him. I took with me, too, the amethyst91
cross he used to like and which I used to wear one summer every evening as long as I did not want
him to go. I should like to give him this cross. For a long time past I have had a dream – that he was
married and I godmother to his first daughter, a little Alissa, to whom I gave this ornament92... Why
have I never dared tell him?
2nd October
My soul today is as light and joyful93 as a bird would be that had made its nest in the sky. For today
he will come. I feel it! I know it! I should like to proclaim it aloud to the world. I feel I must write it
here. I cannot hide my joy any longer. Even Robert, who is usually so inattentive and indifferent to
what concerns me, noticed it. His questions embarrassed me and I did not know what to answer. How
shall I be able to wait till this evening?...
Some kind of strange transparent94 bandage over my eyes seems to show me his image everywhere
– his image magnified, and all love’s rays are concentrated on a single burning spot in my heart.
Oh! how this waiting tires me!
Lord, unclose for me one moment the wide gateways95 of gladness.
3rd October
All is over. Alas! he has slipped out of my arms like a shadow. He was here! He was here! I feel
him still. I call him. My hands, my lips seek him in vain in the night...
I can neither pray nor sleep. I went out again into the dark garden. I was afraid – in my room –
everywhere in the house – I was afraid. My anguish brought me once more to the door behind which
I had left him. I opened it with a mad hope that he might have come back. I called. I groped in the
darkness. I have come in again to write to him, I cannot accept my grief.
What has happened? What did I say to him? What did I do? Why do I always want to exaggerate
my virtue to him? What can be the worth of a virtue which my whole heart denies? I was secretly
false to the words which God set upon my lips. In spite of all that my heart was bursting with, I could
bring nothing out. Jérôme! Jérôme, my unhappy friend in whose presence my heart bleeds and in
whose absence I perish, believe nothing of all I said to you just now, but the words spoken by my
love.
Tore up my letter, then wrote again... Here is the dawn, grey, wet with tears, as sad as my
thoughts. I hear the first sounds of the farm and everything that was sleeping re-awakens to life...
‘Arise, now. The hour is at hand...’
My letter shall not go.
5th October
Oh, jealous God, who hast despoiled96 me, take Thou possession of my heart. All warmth
henceforth has forsaken97 it; nothing will touch it more. Help me to triumph over the melancholy
remnant of myself. This house, this garden encourage my love intolerably. I must fly to some place
where I shall see none but Thee.
Thou wilt help me to bestow98 upon Thy poor what fortune I possessed99; let me leave
Fongueusemare, which I cannot dispose of easily, to Robert. I have made my will, it is true, but I am
ignorant of the necessary formalities and yesterday I could not talk to the lawyer properly, as I was
afraid he might suspect the decision I had taken and warn Juliette and Robert. I will finish this
business in Paris.
10th October
Arrived here so tired that I was obliged to stay in bed the first two days. The doctor, who was sent
for against my will, speaks of an operation which he considers necessary. What is the use of
objecting? But I easily made him believe that I was frightened at the idea of an operation and
preferred waiting till I had ‘regained my strength a little’.
I have managed to conceal100 my name and address. I have deposited enough money with the
management of the house for them to make no difficulty about taking me in and keeping me for as
long as God shall continue to think it necessary.
I like this room. The walls need no other decoration than their perfect cleanliness. I was quite
astonished to feel almost joyful. The reason is that I expect nothing more from life – that I must be
content now with God, and His love is sweet only if it fills to completion whatever space there is
within us...
The only book I have brought with me is the Bible: but today there sounded in me louder than
any words I find there, this wild and passionate101 sob47 of Pascal’s: ‘Whatever is not God cannot satisfy
my longing.’
Oh! too human joy, that my imprudent heart desired!... Was it to wring102 this cry from me, Lord,
that Thou hast thus bereft103 me?
12th October
Thy Kingdom come! May it come in me; so that Thou alone mayest reign1 over me and reign over
the whole of me. I will no longer grudge104 Thee my heart.
Though I am as tired as if I were very old, my soul keeps a strange childishness. I am still the
little girl, who could not go to sleep before everything in her room was tidy and the clothes she had
taken off neatly105 folded beside her bed... That is how I should like to get ready to die.
13th October
Re-read my journal before destroying it. ‘It is unworthy of noble natures to spread round them the
disturbance106 they feel.’ It is, I think, Clotilde de Vaux who says this so finely.
Just as I was going to throw this journal into the fire, I felt a kind of warning which held me back.
It seemed to me that it no longer belonged to me, that I had no right to deprive Jérôme of it, that I had
never written it except for him. My anxieties, my doubts seem to me now so foolish that I can no
longer attach any importance to them, or believe that they will disturb Jérôme. My God, grant that he
may at times catch in these lines the unskilled accent of a heart, passionately107 desirous of urging him
to those heights of virtue which I myself despaired of reaching.
‘My God, lead me to the rock that is higher than I.’
15th October
‘Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy...’ [Pascal]
Above human joy and beyond all suffering, yes, I foresee that radiant joy. The ‘rock that is higher
than I’ bears, I know, the name of happiness... I understand that my whole life has been vain, except
in so far as it culminates108 in happiness... Ah! Lord, but Thy promise to the pure and renouncing109 soul
was this: ‘Blessed from henceforth’ said Thy holy word, ‘Blessed are they which die in the Lord from
henceforth.’ Must I wait until I die? This is the point where my faith wavers. Lord! I cry unto Thee
with all my strength. I am in the night! I am waiting for the dawn. I cry unto Thee with a crying that
wastes me to death. Come and slake110 the thirst of my heart. It is now, at once, that I thirst for
happiness... Or ought I to persuade myself that I have it? And as the pipe of the impatient bird before
daybreak calls rather than heralds111 the light, ought I to sing, without waiting for the night to dwindle50?
16th October
Jérôme, I wish I could teach you perfect joy.
This morning I was shattered by a fit of sickness. And afterwards I felt so weak that for a moment
I hoped I was going to die. But no; first a great calm fell upon my whole being; then a pang112 of
anguish pierced me, a shudder113 of my flesh and soul; it was like the sudden and disenchanting
illumination of my life. It seemed to me that I saw for the first time the walls of my room in their
atrocious bareness. I was seized with fear. Even now I am writing to reassure114 myself, to calm myself.
O Lord! may I reach the end without blasphemy!
I was able to get up again. I went down on my knees like a child...
I should like to die now, quickly, before again realizing that I am alone.
I saw Juliette again last year. More than ten years had gone by since her last letter, in which she
told me of Alissa’s death. A journey to Provence gave me an opportunity of stopping at Nîmes. The
Teissières occupy an important house in the Avenue de Feuchères, in a noisy and central part of the
town. Although I had written to announce my arrival, it was with considerable emotion that I crossed
the threshold.
A maidservant showed me into the drawing-room, where Juliette joined me in a few minutes. I
thought I saw Aunt Plantier – the same gait, the same stoutness115, the same breathless hospitality. She
immediately began plying116 me with questions (without waiting for my answers) as to my career, my
manner of living in Paris, my occupations, my acquaintances; what was my business in the South?
‘Why shouldn’t I go on to Aigues-Vives, where Édouard would be so happy to see me?... Then she
gave me news of all the family, talked of her husband, her children, her brother, of the last vintage, of
the autumn prices... I learnt that Robert had sold Fongueusemare in order to live at Aigues-Vives:
that he was now Édouard’s partner, which left her husband free to travel, and in particular to look
after the commercial side of the business, whilst Robert stayed on the land, improving and increasing
the plantations117.
In the meantime I was uneasily looking round for anything that might recall the past. I
recognized, indeed, amongst the otherwise new furniture of the drawing-room, certain pieces that
came from Fongueusemare; but of the past which was quivering within me, Juliette now seemed to
be oblivious118, or else to be endeavouring to distract our thoughts from it.
Two boys of twelve and thirteen were playing on the stairs; she called them in to introduce them
to me. Lise, the eldest119 of her children, had gone with her father to Aigues-Vives. Another boy of ten
was expected in from his walk; it was he whose advent120 Juliette had told me of in the same letter in
which she had announced our bereavement121. There had been some trouble over this last confinement122;
Juliette had suffered from its effects for a long time; then last year, as an afterthought, she had given
birth to a little girl, whom, to hear her talk, she preferred to all her other children.
‘My room, where she sleeps, is next door,’ said she; ‘come and see her.’ And as I was following
her: ‘Jérôme, I didn’t dare write to you... would you consent to be the baby’s godfather?’
‘Yes, with pleasure, if you would like me to,’ said I, slightly surprised, as I bent over the cradle.
‘What is my god-daughter’s name?’
‘Alissa...’ replied Juliette, in a whisper. ‘She is a little like her, don’t you think so?’
I pressed Juliette’s hand, without answering. Little Alissa, whom her mother lifted, opened her
eyes; I took her in my arms.
‘What a good father you would make!’ said Juliette, trying to laugh. ‘What are you waiting for to
marry?’
‘To have forgotten a great many things,’ I replied, and watched her blush.
‘Which you are hoping to forget soon?’
‘Which I do not hope ever to forget.’
‘Come in here,’ said she, abruptly123, leading the way into a smaller room, which was already dark,
and of which one door led into her bedroom, and another into the drawing-room. ‘This is where I
take refuge when I have a moment to myself; it is the quietest room in the house; I feel that I am
almost sheltered from life in here.’
The window of this small drawing-room did not open, like those of the other rooms, on to the
noises of the town, but on to a sort of courtyard planted with trees.
‘Let us sit down,’ said she, dropping into an armchair. ‘If I understood you rightly it is to Alissa’s
memory that you mean to remain faithful.’
I stayed a moment without answering.
‘Rather, perhaps, to her idea of me. No, don’t give me any credit for it. I think I couldn’t do
otherwise. If I married another woman, I could only pretend to love her.’
‘Ah!’ said she, as though indifferently, then turning her face away from me, she bent it towards
the ground, as if she were looking for something she had lost. ‘Then you think that one can keep a
hopeless love in one’s heart for so long as that?’
‘Yes, Juliette.’
‘And that life can breathe upon it every day, without extinguishing it?’
The evening came slowly up like a grey tide, reaching and flooding each object which seemed to
come to life again in the gloom and repeat in a whisper the story of its past. Once more I saw Alissa’s
room, all the furniture of which Juliette had collected together here. And then she turned her face
towards me again, but it was too dark for me to distinguish her features, so that I did not know
whether her eyes were shut or not. I thought her very beautiful. And we both now remained without
speaking.
‘Come!’ said she at last: ‘we must wake up.’
I saw her rise, take a step forward, drop again, as though she had no strength, into the nearest
chair; she put her hands up to her face and I thought I saw that she was crying.
A servant came in, bringing the lamp.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dozing
|
|
| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
disport
|
|
| v.嬉戏，玩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
merges
|
|
| （使）混合( merge的第三人称单数 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
twig
|
|
| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
evergreen
|
|
| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
glade
|
|
| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
choir
|
|
| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
revival
|
|
| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
consummated
|
|
| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
discomfort
|
|
| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
cramp
|
|
| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
stifle
|
|
| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
attain
|
|
| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
adornment
|
|
| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
insistently
|
|
| ad.坚持地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
pulsation
|
|
| n.脉搏，悸动，脉动；搏动性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
remorse
|
|
| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
tempting
|
|
| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
sophism
|
|
| n.诡辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
specious
|
|
| adj.似是而非的；adv.似是而非地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
allurement
|
|
| n.诱惑物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
mirage
|
|
| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
renounce
|
|
| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
idol
|
|
| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
vouchsafe
|
|
| v.惠予，准许 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
dwindles
|
|
| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
dwindle
|
|
| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
constraint
|
|
| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
abreast
|
|
| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
meritorious
|
|
| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
banish
|
|
| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
transcribe
|
|
| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
solicitous
|
|
| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
impulsive
|
|
| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
mediocre
|
|
| adj.平常的，普通的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
cowardice
|
|
| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
implore
|
|
| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
contemplated
|
|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
toiling
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
feigning
|
|
| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
victorious
|
|
| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
shameful
|
|
| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
repent
|
|
| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
blasphemy
|
|
| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
beseeches
|
|
| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
79
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
forsake
|
|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
formulate
|
|
| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
wilt
|
|
| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
meditation
|
|
| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
beech
|
|
| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
amethyst
|
|
| n.紫水晶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
ornament
|
|
| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
joyful
|
|
| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
gateways
|
|
| n.网关( gateway的名词复数 )；门径；方法；大门口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
despoiled
|
|
| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
Forsaken
|
|
| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
wring
|
|
| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
bereft
|
|
| adj.被剥夺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
culminates
|
|
| v.达到极点( culminate的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
renouncing
|
|
| v.声明放弃( renounce的现在分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
slake
|
|
| v.解渴，使平息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
heralds
|
|
| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
reassure
|
|
| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
stoutness
|
|
| 坚固，刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
plying
|
|
| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
plantations
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
oblivious
|
|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
bereavement
|
|
| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
confinement
|
|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |