The Magic Skin

by

Honore de Balzac
Translated by Ellen Marriage
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The Magic Skin by Honore de Balzac, trans. Ellen Marriage, the Pennsylvania State University,
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 Balzac

The Magic Skin of the gambling hells distinguished by the number 36, with-
out too much deliberation.
“Your hat, sir, if you please?” a thin, querulous voice called
out. A little old man, crouching in the darkness behind a
by railing, suddenly rose and exhibited his features, carved after
a mean design.
Honore de Balzac As you enter a gaming-house the law despoils you of your
hat at the outset. Is it by way of a parable, a divine revela-
Translated by Ellen Marriage tion? Or by exacting some pledge or other, is not an infernal
compact implied? Is it done to compel you to preserve a re-
To Monsieur Savary, Member of Le Academie spectful demeanor towards those who are about to gain
des Sciences. money of you? Or must the detective, who squats in our
social sewers, know the name of your hatter, or your own, if
I you happen to have written it on the lining inside? Or, after
all, is the measurement of your skull required for the compi-
THE TALISMAN lation of statistics as to the cerebral capacity of gamblers?
The executive is absolutely silent on this point. But be sure
TOWARDS THE END of the month of October 1829 a young of this, that though you have scarcely taken a step towards
man entered the Palais-Royal just as the gaming-houses the tables, your hat no more belongs to you now than you
opened, agreeably to the law which protects a passion by its belong to yourself. Play possesses you, your fortune, your
very nature easily excisable. He mounted the staircase of one cap, your cane, your cloak.

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 The Magic Skin
As you go out, it will be made clear to you, by a savage now. The stifled groans of ruined players, as they passed out,
irony, that Play has yet spared you something, since your their mute imprecations, their stupefied faces, found him
property is returned. For all that, if you bring a new hat with impassive. He was the spirit of Play incarnate. If the young
you, you will have to pay for the knowledge that a special man had noticed this sorry Cerberus, perhaps he would have
costume is needed for a gambler. said, “There is only a pack of cards in that heart of his.”
The evident astonishment with which the young man took The stranger did not heed this warning writ in flesh and
a numbered tally in exchange for his hat, which was fortu- blood, put here, no doubt, by Providence, who has set loath-
nately somewhat rubbed at the brim, showed clearly enough ing on the threshold of all evil haunts. He walked boldly
that his mind was yet untainted; and the little old man, who into the saloon, where the rattle of coin brought his senses
had wallowed from his youth up in the furious pleasures of a under the dazzling spell of an agony of greed. Most likely he
gambler’s life, cast a dull, indifferent glance over him, in which had been drawn thither by that most convincing of Jean
a philosopher might have seen wretchedness lying in the Jacques’ eloquent periods, which expresses, I think, this mel-
hospital, the vagrant lives of ruined folk, inquests on num- ancholy thought, “Yes, I can imagine that a man may take to
berless suicides, life-long penal servitude and transportations gambling when he sees only his last shilling between him
to Guazacoalco. and death.”
His pallid, lengthy visage appeared like a haggard embodi- There is an illusion about a gambling saloon at night as
ment of the passion reduced to its simplest terms. There were vulgar as that of a bloodthirsty drama, and just as effective.
traces of past anguish in its wrinkles. He supported life on The rooms are filled with players and onlookers, with pov-
the glutinous soups at Darcet’s, and gambled away his mea- erty-stricken age, which drags itself thither in search of stimu-
gre earnings day by day. Like some old hackney which takes lation, with excited faces, and revels that began in wine, to
no heed of the strokes of the whip, nothing could move him end shortly in the Seine. The passion is there in full mea-

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 Balzac
sure, but the great number of the actors prevents you from turn the cards over and consume them. The grandest hours
seeing the gambling-demon face to face. The evening is a of a gambling saloon are not the opening ones. If Spain has
harmony or chorus in which all take part, to which each bull-fights, and Rome once had her gladiators, Paris waxes
instrument in the orchestra contributes his share. You would proud of her Palais-Royal, where the inevitable roulettes cause
see there plenty of respectable people who have come in search blood to flow in streams, and the public can have the plea-
of diversion, for which they pay as they pay for the pleasures sure of watching without fear of their feet slipping in it.
of the theatre, or of gluttony, or they come hither as to some Take a quiet peep at the arena. How bare it looks! The
garret where they cheapen poignant regrets for three months paper on the walls is greasy to the height of your head, there
to come. is nothing to bring one reviving thought. There is not so
Do you understand all the force and frenzy in a soul which much as a nail for the convenience of suicides. The floor is
impatiently waits for the opening of a gambling hell? Be- worn and dirty. An oblong table stands in the middle of the
tween the daylight gambler and the player at night there is room, the tablecloth is worn by the friction of gold, but the
the same difference that lies between a careless husband and straw-bottomed chairs about it indicate an odd indifference
the lover swooning under his lady’s window. Only with morn- to luxury in the men who will lose their lives here in the
ing comes the real throb of the passion and the craving in its quest of the fortune that is to put luxury within their reach.
stark horror. Then you can admire the real gambler, who has This contradiction in humanity is seen wherever the soul
neither eaten, slept, thought, nor lived, he has so smarted reacts powerfully upon itself. The gallant would clothe his
under the scourge of his martingale, so suffered on the rack mistress in silks, would deck her out in soft Eastern fabrics,
of his desire for a coup of trente-et-quarante. At that ac- though he and she must lie on a truckle-bed. The ambitious
cursed hour you encounter eyes whose calmness terrifies you, dreamer sees himself at the summit of power, while he slav-
faces that fascinate, glances that seem as if they had power to ishly prostrates himself in the mire. The tradesman stagnates

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 The Magic Skin
in his damp, unhealthy shop, while he builds a great man- strokes of chance, the faces of the actors, the circulation of
sion for his son to inherit prematurely, only to be ejected coin, and the motion of the croupier’s rake, much as a silent,
from it by law proceedings at his own brother’s instance. motionless crowd watches the headsman in the Place de
After all, is there a less pleasing thing in the world than a Greve. A tall, thin man, in a threadbare coat, held a card in
house of pleasure? Singular question! Man is always at strife one hand, and a pin in the other, to mark the numbers of
with himself. His present woes give the lie to his hopes; yet Red or Black. He seemed a modern Tantalus, with all the
he looks to a future which is not his, to indemnify him for pleasures of his epoch at his lips, a hoardless miser drawing
these present sufferings; setting upon all his actions the seal in imaginary gains, a sane species of lunatic who consoles
of inconsequence and of the weakness of his nature. We have himself in his misery by chimerical dreams, a man who
nothing here below in full measure but misfortune. touches peril and vice as a young priest handles the unconse-
There were several gamblers in the room already when the crated wafer in the white mass.
young man entered. Three bald-headed seniors were loung- One or two experts at the game, shrewd speculators, had
ing round the green table. Imperturbable as diplomatists, placed themselves opposite the bank, like old convicts who
those plaster-cast faces of theirs betokened blunted sensibili- have lost all fear of the hulks; they meant to try two or three
ties, and hearts which had long forgotten how to throb, even coups, and then to depart at once with the expected gains,
when a woman’s dowry was the stake. A young Italian, olive- on which they lived. Two elderly waiters dawdled about with
hued and dark-haired, sat at one end, with his elbows on the their arms folded, looking from time to time into the garden
table, seeming to listen to the presentiments of luck that dic- from the windows, as if to show their insignificant faces as a
tate a gambler’s “Yes” or “No.” The glow of fire and gold was sign to passers-by.
on that southern face. Some seven or eight onlookers stood The croupier and banker threw a ghastly and withering
by way of an audience, awaiting a drama composed of the glance at the punters, and cried, in a sharp voice, “Make

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 Balzac
your game!” as the young man came in. The silence seemed pleasure. Could it have been dissipation that had set its foul
to grow deeper as all heads turned curiously towards the new mark on the proud face, once pure and bright, and now
arrival. Who would have thought it? The jaded elders, the brought low? Any doctor seeing the yellow circles about his
fossilized waiters, the onlookers, the fanatical Italian him- eyelids, and the color in his cheeks, would have set them
self, felt an indefinable dread at sight of the stranger. Is he down to some affection of the heart or lungs, while poets
not wretched indeed who can excite pity here? Must he not would have attributed them to the havoc brought by the
be very helpless to receive sympathy, ghastly in appearance search for knowledge and to night-vigils by the student’s lamp.
to raise a shudder in these places, where pain utters no cry, But a complaint more fatal than any disease, a disease more
where wretchedness looks gay, and despair is decorous? Such merciless than genius or study, had drawn this young face,
thoughts as these produced a new emotion in these torpid and had wrung a heart which dissipation, study, and sick-
hearts as the young man entered. Were not executioners ness had scarcely disturbed. When a notorious criminal is
known to shed tears over the fair-haired, girlish heads that taken to the convict’s prison, the prisoners welcome him re-
had to fall at the bidding of the Revolution? spectfully, and these evil spirits in human shape, experienced
The gamblers saw at a glance a dreadful mystery in the in torments, bowed before an unheard-of anguish. By the
novice’s face. His young features were stamped with a mel- depth of the wound which met their eyes, they recognized a
ancholy grace, his looks told of unsuccess and many blighted prince among them, by the majesty of his unspoken irony,
hopes. The dull apathy of the suicide had made his forehead by the refined wretchedness of his garb. The frock-coat that
so deadly pale, a bitter smile carved faint lines about the he wore was well cut, but his cravat was on terms so intimate
corners of his mouth, and there was an abandonment about with his waistcoat that no one could suspect him of
him that was painful to see. Some sort of demon sparkled in underlinen. His hands, shapely as a woman’s were not per-
the depths of his eye, which drooped, wearied perhaps with fectly clean; for two days past indeed he had ceased to wear

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 The Magic Skin
gloves. If the very croupier and the waiters shuddered, it was and punted his heap of coin against the stranger’s stake.
because some traces of the spell of innocence yet hung about The banker forgot to pronounce the phrases that use and
his meagre, delicately-shaped form, and his scanty fair hair wont have reduced to an inarticulate cry—”Make your game.
in its natural curls. . . . The game is made. . . . Bets are closed.” The croupier
He looked only about twenty-five years of age, and any trace spread out the cards, and seemed to wish luck to the new-
of vice in his face seemed to be there by accident. A young comer, indifferent as he was to the losses or gains of those
constitution still resisted the inroads of lubricity. Darkness and who took part in these sombre pleasures. Every bystander
light, annihilation and existence, seemed to struggle in him, thought he saw a drama, the closing scene of a noble life, in
with effects of mingled beauty and terror. There he stood like the fortunes of that bit of gold; and eagerly fixed his eyes on
some erring angel that has lost his radiance; and these emeri- the prophetic cards; but however closely they watched the
tus-professors of vice and shame were ready to bid the novice young man, they could discover not the least sign of feeling
depart, even as some toothless crone might be seized with pity on his cool but restless face.
for a beautiful girl who offers herself up to infamy. “Even! red wins,” said the croupier officially. A dumb sort
The young man went straight up to the table, and, as he of rattle came from the Italian’s throat when he saw the folded
stood there, flung down a piece of gold which he held in his notes that the banker showered upon him, one after another.
hand, without deliberation. It rolled on to the Black; then, The young man only understood his calamity when the
as strong natures can, he looked calmly, if anxiously, at the croupiers’s rake was extended to sweep away his last napo-
croupier, as if he held useless subterfuges in scorn. leon. The ivory touched the coin with a little click, as it swept
The interest this coup awakened was so great that the old it with the speed of an arrow into the heap of gold before the
gamesters laid nothing upon it; only the Italian, inspired by bank. The stranger turned pale at the lips, and softly shut his
a gambler’s enthusiasm, smiled suddenly at some thought, eyes, but he unclosed them again at once, and the red color

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 Balzac
returned as he affected the airs of an Englishman, to whom The young man went out without asking for his hat; but
life can offer no new sensation, and disappeared without the the old watch-dog, who had noted its shabby condition, re-
glance full of entreaty for compassion that a desperate game- turned it to him without a word. The gambler mechanically
ster will often give the bystanders. How much can happen gave up the tally, and went downstairs whistling Di tanti Palpiti
in a second’s space; how many things depend on a throw of so feebly, that he himself scarcely heard the delicious notes.
the die! He found himself immediately under the arcades of the
“That was his last cartridge, of course,” said the croupier, Palais-Royal, reached the Rue Saint Honore, took the direc-
smiling after a moment’s silence, during which he picked up tion of the Tuileries, and crossed the gardens with an unde-
the coin between his finger and thumb and held it up. cided step. He walked as if he were in some desert, elbowed
“He is a cracked brain that will go and drown himself,” by men whom he did not see, hearing through all the voices
said a frequenter of the place. He looked round about at the of the crowd one voice alone—the voice of Death. He was
other players, who all knew each other. lost in the thoughts that benumbed him at last, like the crimi-
“Bah!” said a waiter, as he took a pinch of snuff. nals who used to be taken in carts from the Palais de Justice
“If we had but followed his example,” said an old gamester to the Place de Greve, where the scaffold awaited them red-
to the others, as he pointed out the Italian. dened with all the blood spilt here since 1793.
Everybody looked at the lucky player, whose hands shook There is something great and terrible about suicide. Most
as he counted his bank-notes. people’s downfalls are not dangerous; they are like children
“A voice seemed to whisper to me,” he said. “The luck is who have not far to fall, and cannot injure themselves; but
sure to go against that young man’s despair.” when a great nature is dashed down, he is bound to fall from
“He is a new hand,” said the banker, “or he would have di- a height. He must have been raised almost to the skies; he
vided his money into three parts to give himself more chance.” has caught glimpses of some heaven beyond his reach. Vehe-

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 The Magic Skin
ment must the storms be which compel a soul to seek for tions of the glorious king of Kaernavan, put in prison by his
peace from the trigger of a pistol. children, the sole remaining fragment of a lost work that
How much young power starves and pines away in a gar- drew tears from Sterne at the bare perusal—the same Sterne
ret for want of a friend, for lack of a woman’s consolation, in who deserted his own wife and family.
the midst of millions of fellow-creatures, in the presence of a The stranger was beset with such thoughts as these, which
listless crowd that is burdened by its wealth! When one re- passed in fragments through his mind, like tattered flags flut-
members all this, suicide looms large. Between a self-sought tering above the combat. If he set aside for a moment the
death and the abundant hopes whose voices call a young burdens of consciousness and of memory, to watch the flower
man to Paris, God only knows what may intervene; what heads gently swayed by the breeze among the green thickets,
contending ideas have striven within the soul; what poems a revulsion came over him, life struggled against the oppres-
have been set aside; what moans and what despair have been sive thought of suicide, and his eyes rose to the sky: gray
repressed; what abortive masterpieces and vain endeavors! clouds, melancholy gusts of the wind, the stormy atmosphere,
Every suicide is an awful poem of sorrow. Where will you all decreed that he should die.
find a work of genius floating above the seas of literature He bent his way toward the Pont Royal, musing over the
that can compare with this paragraph: last fancies of others who had gone before him. He smiled to
himself as he remembered that Lord Castlereagh had satis-
“Yesterday, at four o’clock, a young woman threw her- fied the humblest of our needs before he cut his throat, and
self into the Seine from the Pont des Arts.” that the academician Auger had sought for his snuff-box as
he went to his death. He analyzed these extravagances, and
Dramas and romances pale before this concise Parisian even examined himself; for as he stood aside against the para-
phrase; so must even that old frontispiece, The Lamenta- pet to allow a porter to pass, his coat had been whitened

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 Balzac
somewhat by the contact, and he carefully brushed the dust trons, without friends, without a mattress to lie on, or any
from his sleeve, to his own surprise. He reached the middle one to speak a word for him—a perfect social cipher, useless
of the arch, and looked forebodingly at the water. to a State which gave itself no trouble about him.
“Wretched weather for drowning yourself,” said a ragged A death in broad daylight seemed degrading to him; he
old woman, who grinned at him; “isn’t the Seine cold and made up his mind to die at night so as to bequeath an unrec-
dirty?” ognizable corpse to a world which had disregarded the great-
His answer was a ready smile, which showed the frenzied ness of life. He began his wanderings again, turning towards
nature of his courage; then he shivered all at once as he saw the Quai Voltaire, imitating the lagging gait of an idler seek-
at a distance, by the door of the Tuileries, a shed with an ing to kill time. As he came down the steps at the end of the
inscription above it in letters twelve inches high: THE bridge, his notice was attracted by the second-hand books
ROYAL HUMANE SOCIETY’S APPARATUS. displayed on the parapet, and he was on the point of bar-
A vision of M. Dacheux rose before him, equipped by his gaining for some. He smiled, thrust his hands philosophi-
philanthropy, calling out and setting in motion the too effi- cally into his pockets, and fell to strolling on again with a
cacious oars which break the heads of drowning men, if un- proud disdain in his manner, when he heard to his surprise
luckily they should rise to the surface; he saw a curious crowd some coin rattling fantastically in his pocket.
collecting, running for a doctor, preparing fumigations, he A smile of hope lit his face, and slid from his lips over his
read the maundering paragraph in the papers, put between features, over his brow, and brought a joyful light to his eyes
notes on a festivity and on the smiles of a ballet-dancer; he and his dark cheeks. It was a spark of happiness like one of
heard the francs counted down by the prefect of police to the red dots that flit over the remains of a burnt scrap of
the watermen. As a corpse, he was worth fifteen francs; but paper; but as it is with the black ashes, so it was with his face,
now while he lived he was only a man of talent without pa- it became dull again when the stranger quickly drew out his

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 The Magic Skin
hand and perceived three pennies. “Ah, kind gentleman! on the brink of death met a young woman alighting from a
carita, carita; for the love of St. Catherine! only a halfpenny showy carriage. He looked in delight at her prettiness, at the
to buy some bread!” pale face appropriately framed by the satin of her fashion-
A little chimney sweeper, with puffed cheeks, all black with able bonnet. Her slender form and graceful movements en-
soot, and clad in tatters, held out his hand to beg for the tranced him. Her skirt had been slightly raised as she stepped
man’s last pence. to the pavement, disclosing a daintily fitting white stocking
Two paces from the little Savoyard stood an old pauvre over the delicate outlines beneath. The young lady went into
honteux, sickly and feeble, in wretched garments of ragged the shop, purchased albums and sets of lithographs; giving
druggeting, who asked in a thick, muffled voice: several gold coins for them, which glittered and rang upon
“Anything you like to give, monsieur; I will pray to God the counter. The young man, seemingly occupied with the
for you …” prints in the window, fixed upon the fair stranger a gaze as
But the young man turned his eyes on him, and the old eager as man can give, to receive in exchange an indifferent
beggar stopped without another word, discerning in that glance, such as lights by accident on a passer-by. For him it
mournful face an abandonment of wretchedness more bitter was a leave-taking of love and of woman; but his final and
than his own. strenuous questioning glance was neither understood nor felt
“La carita! la carita!” by the slight-natured woman there; her color did not rise,
The stranger threw the coins to the old man and the child, her eyes did not droop. What was it to her? one more piece
left the footway, and turned towards the houses; the harrow- of adulation, yet another sigh only prompted the delightful
ing sight of the Seine fretted him beyond endurance. thought at night, “I looked rather well to-day.”
“May God lengthen your days!” cried the two beggars. The young man quickly turned to another picture, and only
As he reached the shop window of a print-seller, this man left it when she returned to her carriage. The horses started

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 Balzac
off, the final vision of luxury and refinement went under an He sought, one might say, to regain courage and to find a
eclipse, just as that life of his would soon do also. Slowly and stimulant, like a criminal who doubts his power to reach the
sadly he followed the line of the shops, listlessly examining the scaffold. The consciousness of approaching death gave him,
specimens on view. When the shops came to an end, he re- for the time being, the intrepidity of a duchess with a couple
viewed the Louvre, the Institute, the towers of Notre Dame, of lovers, so that he entered the place with an abstracted look,
of the Palais, the Pont des Arts; all these public monuments while his lips displayed a set smile like a drunkard’s. Had not
seemed to have taken their tone from the heavy gray sky. life, or rather had not death, intoxicated him? Dizziness soon
Fitful gleams of light gave a foreboding look to Paris; like a overcame him again. Things appeared to him in strange col-
pretty woman, the city has mysterious fits of ugliness or ors, or as making slight movements; his irregular pulse was no
beauty. So the outer world seemed to be in a plot to steep doubt the cause; the blood that sometimes rushed like a burn-
this man about to die in a painful trance. A prey to the ma- ing torrent through his veins, and sometimes lay torpid and
leficent power which acts relaxingly upon us by the fluid stagnant as tepid water. He merely asked leave to see if the
circulating through our nerves, his whole frame seemed shop contained any curiosities which he required.
gradually to experience a dissolving process. He felt the an- A plump-faced young shopman with red hair, in an otter-
guish of these throes passing through him in waves, and the skin cap, left an old peasant woman in charge of the shop—
houses and the crowd seemed to surge to and fro in a mist a sort of feminine Caliban, employed in cleaning a stove made
before his eyes. He tried to escape the agitation wrought in marvelous by Bernard Palissy’s work. This youth remarked
his mind by the revulsions of his physical nature, and went carelessly:
toward the shop of a dealer in antiquities, thinking to give a “Look round, monsieur! We have nothing very remark-
treat to his senses, and to spend the interval till nightfall in able here downstairs; but if I may trouble you to go up to the
bargaining over curiosities. first floor, I will show you some very fine mummies from

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 The Magic Skin
Cairo, some inlaid pottery, and some carved ebony—genu- against a pyx, a republican sabre on a mediaeval hackbut.
ine Renaissance work, just come in, and of perfect beauty.” Mme. du Barry, with a star above her head, naked, and sur-
In the stranger’s fearful position this cicerone’s prattle and rounded by a cloud, seemed to look longingly out of Latour’s
shopman’s empty talk seemed like the petty vexations by pastel at an Indian chibook, while she tried to guess the pur-
which narrow minds destroy a man of genius. But as he must pose of the spiral curves that wound towards her. Instru-
even go through with it, he appeared to listen to his guide, ments of death, poniards, curious pistols, and disguised weap-
answering him by gestures or monosyllables; but impercep- ons had been flung down pell-mell among the paraphernalia
tibly he arrogated the privilege of saying nothing, and gave of daily life; porcelain tureens, Dresden plates, translucent
himself up without hindrance to his closing meditations, cups from china, old salt-cellars, comfit-boxes belonging to
which were appalling. He had a poet’s temperament, his mind feudal times. A carved ivory ship sped full sail on the back of
had entered by chance on a vast field; and he must see per- a motionless tortoise.
force the dry bones of twenty future worlds. The Emperor Augustus remained unmoved and imperial
At a first glance the place presented a confused picture in with an air-pump thrust into one eye. Portraits of French
which every achievement, human and divine, was mingled. sheriffs and Dutch burgomasters, phlegmatic now as when
Crocodiles, monkeys, and serpents stuffed with straw grinned in life, looked down pallid and unconcerned on the chaos of
at glass from church windows, seemed to wish to bite sculp- past ages below them.
tured heads, to chase lacquered work, or to scramble up chan- Every land of earth seemed to have contributed some stray
deliers. A Sevres vase, bearing Napoleon’s portrait by Mme. fragment of its learning, some example of its art. Nothing
Jacotot, stood beside a sphinx dedicated to Sesostris. The seemed lacking to this philosophical kitchen-midden, from
beginnings of the world and the events of yesterday were a redskin’s calumet, a green and golden slipper from the sera-
mingled with grotesque cheerfulness. A kitchen jack leaned glio, a Moorish yataghan, a Tartar idol, to the soldier’s to-

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 Balzac
bacco pouch, to the priest’s ciborium, and the plumes that ally up to an ideal world; he had attained to the enchanted
once adorned a throne. This extraordinary combination was palace of ecstasy, whence the universe appeared to him by
rendered yet more bizarre by the accidents of lighting, by a fragments and in shapes of flame, as once the future blazed
multitude of confused reflections of various hues, by the sharp out before the eyes of St. John in Patmos.
contrast of blacks and whites. Broken cries seemed to reach A crowd of sorrowing faces, beneficent and appalling, dark
the ear, unfinished dramas seized upon the imagination, and luminous, far and near, gathered in numbers, in myri-
smothered lights caught the eye. A thin coating of inevitable ads, in whole generations. Egypt, rigid and mysterious, arose
dust covered all the multitudinous corners and convolutions from her sands in the form of a mummy swathed in black
of these objects of various shapes which gave highly pictur- bandages; then the Pharaohs swallowed up nations, that they
esque effects. might build themselves a tomb; and he beheld Moses and
First of all, the stranger compared the three galleries which the Hebrews and the desert, and a solemn antique world.
civilization, cults, divinities, masterpieces, dominions, carous- Fresh and joyous, a marble statue spoke to him from a twisted
als, sanity, and madness had filled to repletion, to a mirror column of the pleasure-loving myths of Greece and Ionia.
with numerous facets, each depicting a world. After this first Ah! who would not have smiled with him to see, against the
hazy idea he would fain have selected his pleasures; but by earthen red background, the brown-faced maiden dancing
dint of using his eyes, thinking and musing, a fever began to with gleeful reverence before the god Priapus, wrought in
possess him, caused perhaps by the gnawing pain of hunger. the fine clay of an Etruscan vase? The Latin queen caressed
The spectacle of so much existence, individual or national, her chimera.
to which these pledges bore witness, ended by numbing his The whims of Imperial Rome were there in life, the bath
senses—the purpose with which he entered the shop was was disclosed, the toilette of a languid Julia, dreaming, wait-
fulfilled. He had left the real behind, and had climbed gradu- ing for her Tibullus. Strong with the might of Arabic spells,

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 The Magic Skin
the head of Cicero evoked memories of a free Rome, and un- upon it, still gave out a faint scent of sandal wood. His fancy
rolled before him the scrolls of Titus Livius. The young man was stirred by a goggle-eyed Chinese monster, with mouth
beheld Senatus Populusque Romanus; consuls, lictors, togas awry and twisted limbs, the invention of a people who, grown
with purple fringes; the fighting in the Forum, the angry people, weary of the monotony of beauty, found an indescribable
passed in review before him like the cloudy faces of a dream. pleasure in an infinite variety of ugliness. A salt-cellar from
Then Christian Rome predominated in his vision. A painter Benvenuto Cellini’s workshop carried him back to the Re-
had laid heaven open; he beheld the Virgin Mary wrapped naissance at its height, to the time when there was no re-
in a golden cloud among the angels, shining more brightly straint on art or morals, when torture was the sport of sover-
than the sun, receiving the prayers of sufferers, on whom eigns; and from their councils, churchmen with courtesans’
this second Eve Regenerate smiles pityingly. At the touch of arms about them issued decrees of chastity for simple priests.
a mosaic, made of various lavas from Vesuvius and Etna, his On a cameo he saw the conquests of Alexander, the massa-
fancy fled to the hot tawny south of Italy. He was present at cres of Pizarro in a matchbox, and religious wars disorderly,
Borgia’s orgies, he roved among the Abruzzi, sought for Ital- fanatical, and cruel, in the shadows of a helmet. Joyous pic-
ian love intrigues, grew ardent over pale faces and dark, al- tures of chivalry were called up by a suit of Milanese armor,
mond-shaped eyes. He shivered over midnight adventures, brightly polished and richly wrought; a paladin’s eyes seemed
cut short by the cool thrust of a jealous blade, as he saw a to sparkle yet under the visor.
mediaeval dagger with a hilt wrought like lace, and spots of This sea of inventions, fashions, furniture, works of art
rust like splashes of blood upon it. and fiascos, made for him a poem without end. Shapes and
India and its religions took the shape of the idol with his colors and projects all lived again for him, but his mind re-
peaked cap of fantastic form, with little bells, clad in silk and ceived no clear and perfect conception. It was the poet’s task
gold. Close by, a mat, as pretty as the bayadere who once lay to complete the sketches of the great master, who had scorn-

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 Balzac
fully mingled on his palette the hues of the numberless vicis- miniatures; he admired a precious missal in manuscript,
situdes of human life. When the world at large at last re- adorned with arabesques in gold and blue. Thoughts of peace-
leased him, when he had pondered over many lands, many ful life swayed him; he devoted himself afresh to study and
epochs, and various empires, the young man came back to research, longing for the easy life of the monk, devoid alike
the life of the individual. He impersonated fresh characters, of cares and pleasures; and from the depths of his cell he
and turned his mind to details, rejecting the life of nations as looked out upon the meadows, woods, and vineyards of his
a burden too overwhelming for a single soul. convent. Pausing before some work of Teniers, he took for
Yonder was a sleeping child modeled in wax, a relic of his own the helmet of the soldier or the poverty of the arti-
Ruysch’s collection, an enchanting creation which brought san; he wished to wear a smoke-begrimed cap with these
back the happiness of his own childhood. The cotton gar- Flemings, to drink their beer and join their game at cards,
ment of a Tahitian maid next fascinated him; he beheld the and smiled upon the comely plumpness of a peasant woman.
primitive life of nature, the real modesty of naked chastity, He shivered at a snowstorm by Mieris; he seemed to take
the joys of an idleness natural to mankind, a peaceful fate by part in Salvator Rosa’s battle-piece; he ran his fingers over a
a slow river of sweet water under a plantain tree that bears its tomahawk form Illinois, and felt his own hair rise as he
pleasant manna without the toil of man. Then all at once he touched a Cherokee scalping-knife. He marveled over the
became a corsair, investing himself with the terrible poetry rebec that he set in the hands of some lady of the land, drank
that Lara has given to the part: the thought came at the sight in the musical notes of her ballad, and in the twilight by the
of the mother-of-pearl tints of a myriad sea-shells, and grew gothic arch above the hearth he told his love in a gloom so
as he saw madrepores redolent of the sea-weeds and the storms deep that he could not read his answer in her eyes.
of the Atlantic. He caught at all delights, at all sorrows; grasped at exist-
The sea was forgotten again at a distant view of exquisite ence in every form; and endowed the phantoms conjured up

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 The Magic Skin
from that inert and plastic material so liberally with his own ist might worship, carved after Jean Goujon’s designs, in years
life and feelings, that the sound of his own footsteps reached of toil, had been purchased perhaps at the price of firewood.
him as if from another world, or as the hum of Paris reaches Precious caskets, and things that fairy hands might have fash-
the towers of Notre Dame. ioned, lay there in heaps like rubbish.
He ascended the inner staircase which led to the first floor, “You must have the worth of millions here!” cried the young
with its votive shields, panoplies, carved shrines, and figures man as he entered the last of an immense suite of rooms, all
on the wall at every step. Haunted by the strangest shapes, decorated and gilt by eighteenth century artists.
by marvelous creations belonging to the borderland betwixt “Thousands of millions, you might say,” said the florid
life and death, he walked as if under the spell of a dream. His shopman; “but you have seen nothing as yet. Go up to the
own existence became a matter of doubt to him; he was nei- third floor, and you shall see!”
ther wholly alive nor dead, like the curious objects about The stranger followed his guide to a fourth gallery, where
him. The light began to fade as he reached the show-rooms, one by one there passed before his wearied eyes several pic-
but the treasures of gold and silver heaped up there scarcely tures by Poussin, a magnificent statue by Michael Angelo,
seemed to need illumination from without. The most ex- enchanting landscapes by Claude Lorraine, a Gerard Dow
travagant whims of prodigals, who have run through mil- (like a stray page from Sterne), Rembrandts, Murillos, and
lions to perish in garrets, had left their traces here in this vast pictures by Velasquez, as dark and full of color as a poem of
bazar of human follies. Here, beside a writing desk, made at Byron’s; then came classic bas-reliefs, finely-cut agates, won-
the cost of 100,000 francs, and sold for a hundred pence, lay derful cameos! Works of art upon works of art, till the
a lock with a secret worth a king’s ransom. The human race craftsman’s skill palled on the mind, masterpiece after mas-
was revealed in all the grandeur of its wretchedness; in all the terpiece till art itself became hateful at last and enthusiasm
splendor of its infinite littleness. An ebony table that an art- died. He came upon a Madonna by Raphael, but he was

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 Balzac
tired of Raphael; a figure by Correggio never received the mysteriously. “If you wish to see the portrait, I will gladly
glance it demanded of him. A priceless vase of antique por- venture to tell him.”
phyry carved round about with pictures of the most gro- “Venture!” said the young man; “then is your master a
tesquely wanton of Roman divinities, the pride of some prince?”
Corinna, scarcely drew a smile from him. “I don’t know what he is,” the other answered. Equally
The ruins of fifteen hundred vanished years oppressed him; astonished, each looked for a moment at the other. Then
he sickened under all this human thought; felt bored by all construing the stranger’s silence as an order, the apprentice
this luxury and art. He struggled in vain against the con- left him alone in the closet.
stantly renewed fantastic shapes that sprang up from under Have you never launched into the immensity of time and
his feet, like children of some sportive demon. space as you read the geological writings of Cuvier? Carried
Are not fearful poisons set up in the soul by a swift con- by his fancy, have you hung as if suspended by a magician’s
centration of all her energies, her enjoyments, or ideas; as wand over the illimitable abyss of the past? When the fossil
modern chemistry, in its caprice, repeats the action of cre- bones of animals belonging to civilizations before the Flood
ation by some gas or other? Do not many men perish under are turned up in bed after bed and layer upon layer of the
the shock of the sudden expansion of some moral acid within quarries of Montmartre or among the schists of the Ural
them? range, the soul receives with dismay a glimpse of millions of
“What is there in that box?” he inquired, as he reached a peoples forgotten by feeble human memory and unrecog-
large closet —final triumph of human skill, originality, nized by permanent divine tradition, peoples whose ashes
wealth, and splendor, in which there hung a large, square cover our globe with two feet of earth that yields bread to us
mahogany coffer, suspended from a nail by a silver chain. and flowers.
“Ah, monsieur keeps the key of it,” said the stout assistant Is not Cuvier the great poet of our era? Byron has given

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 The Magic Skin
admirable expression to certain moral conflicts, but our im- resurrection that took place at the voice of this man, the
mortal naturalist has reconstructed past worlds from a few little drop in the nameless Infinite, common to all spheres,
bleached bones; has rebuilt cities, like Cadmus, with mon- that is ours to use, and that we call Time, seems to us a piti-
sters’ teeth; has animated forests with all the secrets of zool- able moment of life. We ask ourselves the purpose of our
ogy gleaned from a piece of coal; has discovered a giant popu- triumphs, our hatreds, our loves, overwhelmed as we are by
lation from the footprints of a mammoth. These forms stand the destruction of so many past universes, and whether it is
erect, grow large, and fill regions commensurate with their worth while to accept the pain of life in order that hereafter
giant size. He treats figures like a poet; a naught set beside a we may become an intangible speck. Then we remain as if
seven by him produces awe. dead, completely torn away from the present till the valet de
He can call up nothingness before you without the phrases chambre comes in and says, “Madame la comtesse answers
of a charlatan. He searches a lump of gypsum, finds an im- that she is expecting monsieur.”
pression in it, says to you, “Behold!” All at once marble takes All the wonders which had brought the known world be-
an animal shape, the dead come to life, the history of the fore the young man’s mind wrought in his soul much the
world is laid open before you. After countless dynasties of same feeling of dejection that besets the philosopher investi-
giant creatures, races of fish and clans of mollusks, the race gating unknown creatures. He longed more than ever for
of man appears at last as the degenerate copy of a splendid death as he flung himself back in a curule chair and let his
model, which the Creator has perchance destroyed. eyes wander across the illusions composing a panorama of
Emboldened by his gaze into the past, this petty race, chil- the past. The pictures seemed to light up, the Virgin’s heads
dren of yesterday, can overstep chaos, can raise a psalm with- smiled on him, the statues seemed alive. Everything danced
out end, and outline for themselves the story of the Universe and swayed around him, with a motion due to the gloom
in an Apocalypse that reveals the past. After the tremendous and the tormenting fever that racked his brain; each mon-

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 Balzac
strosity grimaced at him, while the portraits on the canvas drowsiness, and felt a cold breath of air as an unknown furry
closed their eyes for a little relief. Every shape seemed to something swept past his cheeks. He shivered. A muffled
tremble and start, and to leave its place gravely or flippantly, clatter of the windows followed; it was a bat, he fancied, that
gracefully or awkwardly, according to its fashion, character, had given him this chilly sepulchral caress. He could yet dimly
and surroundings. see for a moment the shapes that surrounded him, by the
A mysterious Sabbath began, rivaling the fantastic scenes vague light in the west; then all these inanimate objects were
witnessed by Faust upon the Brocken. But these optical illu- blotted out in uniform darkness. Night and the hour of death
sions, produced by weariness, overstrained eyesight, or the had suddenly come. Thenceforward, for a while, he lost con-
accidents of twilight, could not alarm the stranger. The ter- sciousness of the things about him; he was either buried in
rors of life had no power over a soul grown familiar with the deep meditation or sleep overcame him, brought on by wea-
terrors of death. He even gave himself up, half amused by its riness or by the stress of those many thoughts that lacerated
bizarre eccentricities, to the influence of this moral galva- his heart.
nism; its phenomena, closely connected with his last Suddenly he thought that an awful voice called him by
thoughts, assured him that he was still alive. The silence about name; it was like some feverish nightmare, when at a step
him was so deep that he embarked once more in dreams that the dreamer falls headlong over into an abyss, and he
grew gradually darker and darker as if by magic, as the light trembled. He closed his eyes, dazzled by bright rays from a
slowly faded. A last struggling ray from the sun lit up rosy red circle of light that shone out from the shadows. In the
answering lights. He raised his head and saw a skeleton dimly midst of the circle stood a little old man who turned the
visible, with its skull bent doubtfully to one side, as if to say, light of the lamp upon him, yet he had not heard him enter,
“The dead will none of thee as yet.” nor move, nor speak. There was something magical about
He passed his hand over his forehead to shake off the the apparition. The boldest man, awakened in such a sort,

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 The Magic Skin
would have felt alarmed at the sight of this figure, which types which serve artists as models for Moses. His lips were
might have issued from some sarcophagus hard by. so thin and colorless that it needed a close inspection to find
A curiously youthful look in the unmoving eyes of the spec- the lines of his mouth at all in the pallid face. His great
tre forbade the idea of anything supernatural; but for all that, wrinkled brow and hollow bloodless cheeks, the inexorably
in the brief space between his dreaming and waking life, the stern expression of his small green eyes that no longer pos-
young man’s judgment remained philosophically suspended, sessed eyebrows or lashes, might have convinced the stranger
as Descartes advises. He was, in spite of himself, under the that Gerard Dow’s “Money Changer” had come down from
influence of an unaccountable hallucination, a mystery that his frame. The craftiness of an inquisitor, revealed in those
our pride rejects, and that our imperfect science vainly tries curving wrinkles and creases that wound about his temples,
to resolve. indicated a profound knowledge of life. There was no de-
Imagine a short old man, thin and spare, in a long black ceiving this man, who seemed to possess a power of detect-
velvet gown girded round him by a thick silk cord. His long ing the secrets of the wariest heart.
white hair escaped on either side of his face from under a The wisdom and the moral codes of every people seemed
black velvet cap which closely fitted his head and made a gathered up in his passive face, just as all the productions of
formal setting for his countenance. His gown enveloped his the globe had been heaped up in his dusty showrooms. He
body like a winding sheet, so that all that was left visible was seemed to possess the tranquil luminous vision of some god
a narrow bleached human face. But for the wasted arm, thin before whom all things are open, or the haughty power of a
as a draper’s wand, which held aloft the lamp that cast all its man who knows all things.
light upon him, the face would have seemed to hang in mid With two strokes of the brush a painter could have so al-
air. A gray pointed beard concealed the chin of this fantastical tered the expression of this face, that what had been a serene
appearance, and gave him the look of one of those Jewish representation of the Eternal Father should change to the

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 Balzac
sneering mask of a Mephistopheles; for though sovereign But this apparition had appeared in Paris, on the Quai
power was revealed by the forehead, mocking folds lurked Voltaire, and in the nineteenth century; the time and place
about the mouth. He must have sacrificed all the joys of made sorcery impossible. The idol of French scepticism had
earth, as he had crushed all human sorrows beneath his po- died in the house just opposite, the disciple of Gay-Lussac
tent will. The man at the brink of death shivered at the and Arago, who had held the charlatanism of intellect in
thought of the life led by this spirit, so solitary and remote contempt. And yet the stranger submitted himself to the in-
from our world; joyless, since he had no one illusion left; fluence of an imaginative spell, as all of us do at times, when
painless, because pleasure had ceased to exist for him. There we wish to escape from an inevitable certainty, or to tempt
he stood, motionless and serene as a star in a bright mist. His the power of Providence. So some mysterious apprehension
lamp lit up the obscure closet, just as his green eyes, with of a strange force made him tremble before the old man with
their quiet malevolence, seemed to shed a light on the moral the lamp. All of us have been stirred in the same way by the
world. sight of Napoleon, or of some other great man, made illus-
This was the strange spectacle that startled the young man’s trious by his genius or by fame.
returning sight, as he shook off the dreamy fancies and “You wish to see Raphael’s portrait of Jesus Christ, mon-
thoughts of death that had lulled him. An instant of dismay, sieur?” the old man asked politely. There was something
a momentary return to belief in nursery tales, may be for- metallic in the clear, sharp ring of his voice.
given him, seeing that his senses were obscured. Much He set the lamp upon a broken column, so that all its light
thought had wearied his mind, and his nerves were exhausted might fall on the brown case.
with the strain of the tremendous drama within him, and by At the sacred names of Christ and Raphael the young man
the scenes that had heaped on him all the horrid pleasures showed some curiosity. The merchant, who no doubt looked
that a piece of opium can produce. for this, pressed a spring, and suddenly the mahogany panel

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 The Magic Skin
slid noiselessly back in its groove, and discovered the canvas Evangel. The sweet triumphant smile revealed the secret of
to the stranger’s admiring gaze. At sight of this deathless cre- the Catholic religion, which sums up all things in the pre-
ation, he forgot his fancies in the show-rooms and the freaks cept, “Love one another.” This picture breathed the spirit of
of his dreams, and became himself again. The old man be- prayer, enjoined forgiveness, overcame self, caused sleeping
came a being of flesh and blood, very much alive, with noth- powers of good to waken. For this work of Raphael’s had the
ing chimerical about him, and took up his existence at once imperious charm of music; you were brought under the spell
upon solid earth. of memories of the past; his triumph was so absolute that
The sympathy and love, and the gentle serenity in the di- the artist was forgotten. The witchery of the lamplight height-
vine face, exerted an instant sway over the younger specta- ened the wonder; the head seemed at times to flicker in the
tor. Some influence falling from heaven bade cease the burn- distance, enveloped in cloud.
ing torment that consumed the marrow of his bones. The “I covered the surface of that picture with gold pieces,”
head of the Saviour of mankind seemed to issue from among said the merchant carelessly.
the shadows represented by a dark background; an aureole “And now for death!” cried the young man, awakened from
of light shone out brightly from his hair; an impassioned his musings. His last thought had recalled his fate to him, as
belief seemed to glow through him, and to thrill every fea- it led him imperceptibly back from the forlorn hopes to which
ture. The word of life had just been uttered by those red lips, he had clung.
the sacred sounds seemed to linger still in the air; the specta- “Ah, ha! then my suspicions were well founded!” said the
tor besought the silence for those captivating parables, hear- other, and his hands held the young man’s wrists in a grip
kened for them in the future, and had to turn to the teach- like that of a vice.
ings of the past. The untroubled peace of the divine eyes, the The younger man smiled wearily at his mistake, and said
comfort of sorrowing souls, seemed an interpretation of the gently:

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 Balzac
“You, sir, have nothing to fear; it is not your life, but my “You have been hissed perhaps at the Funambules? Or you
own that is in question … . But why should I hide a harm- have had to compose couplets to pay for your mistress’ fu-
less fraud?” he went on, after a look at the anxious old man. neral? Do you want to be cured of the gold fever? Or to be
“I came to see your treasures to while away the time till night quit of the spleen? For what blunder is your life forfeit?”
should come and I could drown myself decently. Who would “You must not look among the common motives that impel
grudge this last pleasure to a poet and a man of science?” suicides for the reason of my death. To spare myself the task of
While he spoke, the jealous merchant watched the hag- disclosing my unheard-of sufferings, for which language has
gard face of his pretended customer with keen eyes. Perhaps no name, I will tell you this—that I am in the deepest, most
the mournful tones of his voice reassured him, or he also humiliating, and most cruel trouble, and,” he went on in proud
read the dark signs of fate in the faded features that had made tones that harmonized ill with the words just uttered, “I have
the gamblers shudder; he released his hands, but, with a touch no wish to beg for either help or sympathy.”
of caution, due to the experience of some hundred years at “Eh! eh!”
least, he stretched his arm out to a sideboard as if to steady The two syllables which the old man pronounced resembled
himself, took up a little dagger, and said: the sound of a rattle. Then he went on thus:
“Have you been a supernumerary clerk of the Treasury for “Without compelling you to entreat me, without making
three years without receiving any perquisites?” you blush for it, and without giving you so much as a French
The stranger could scarcely suppress a smile as he shook centime, a para from the Levant, a German heller, a Russian
his head. kopeck, a Scottish farthing, a single obolus or sestertius from
“Perhaps your father has expressed his regret for your birth the ancient world, or one piastre from the new, without of-
a little too sharply? Or have you disgraced yourself?” fering you anything whatever in gold, silver, or copper, notes
“If I meant to be disgraced, I should live.” or drafts, I will make you richer, more powerful, and of more

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 The Magic Skin
consequence than a constitutional king.” superior smile led the young scientific man to fancy that he
The young man thought that the older was in his dotage, himself had been deceived by some imposture. He had no
and waited in bewilderment without venturing to reply. wish to carry one more puzzle to his grave, and hastily turned
“Turn round,” said the merchant, suddenly catching up the skin over, like some child eager to find out the mysteries
the lamp in order to light up the opposite wall; “look at that of a new toy.
leathern skin,” he went on. “Ah,” he cried, “here is the mark of the seal which they call
The young man rose abruptly, and showed some surprise in the East the Signet of Solomon.”
at the sight of a piece of shagreen which hung on the wall “So you know that, then?” asked the merchant. His pecu-
behind his chair. It was only about the size of a fox’s skin, liar method of laughter, two or three quick breathings through
but it seemed to fill the deep shadows of the place with such the nostrils, said more than any words however eloquent.
brilliant rays that it looked like a small comet, an appearance “Is there anybody in the world simple enough to believe in
at first sight inexplicable. The young sceptic went up to this that idle fancy?” said the young man, nettled by the spiteful-
so-called talisman, which was to rescue him from all points ness of the silent chuckle. “Don’t you know,” he continued,
of view, and he soon found out the cause of its singular bril- “that the superstitions of the East have perpetuated the mys-
liancy. The dark grain of the leather had been so carefully tical form and the counterfeit characters of the symbol, which
burnished and polished, the striped markings of the grain- represents a mythical dominion? I have no more laid myself
ing were so sharp and clear, that every particle of the surface open to a charge of credulity in this case, than if I had men-
of the bit of Oriental leather was in itself a focus which con- tioned sphinxes or griffins, whose existence mythology in a
centrated the light, and reflected it vividly. manner admits.”
He accounted for this phenomenon categorically to the “As you are an Orientalist,” replied the other, “perhaps you
old man, who only smiled meaningly by way of answer. His can read that sentence.”

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 Balzac
He held the lamp close to the talisman, which the young agency than to God’s.”
man held towards him, and pointed out some characters in- The mysterious words were thus arranged:
laid in the surface of the wonderful skin, as if they had grown [Drawing of apparently Sanskrit characters omitted here.]
on the animal to which it once belonged. Or, as it runs in English:
“I must admit,” said the stranger, “that I have no idea how Possessing me thou shalt possess all things. But thy life is mine,
the letters could be engraved so deeply on the skin of a wild for God has so willed it. Wish, and thy wishes shall be fulfilled;
ass.” And he turned quickly to the tables strewn with curi- but measure thy desires, according to the life that is in thee. This is
osities and seemed to look for something. thy life, with each wish I must shrink even as thy own days. Wilt
“What is it that you want?” asked the old man. thou have me? Take me. God will hearkin unto thee. So be it!
“Something that will cut the leather, so that I can see “So you read Sanskrit fluently,” said the old man. “You
whether the letters are printed or inlaid.” have been in Persia perhaps, or in Bengal?”
The old man held out his stiletto. The stranger took it and “No, sir,” said the stranger, as he felt the emblematical skin
tried to cut the skin above the lettering; but when he had curiously. It was almost as rigid as a sheet of metal.
removed a thin shaving of leather from them, the characters The old merchant set the lamp back again upon the col-
still appeared below, so clear and so exactly like the surface umn, giving the other a look as he did so. “He has given up
impression, that for a moment he was not sure that he had the notion of dying already,” the glance said with phlegmatic
cut anything away after all. irony.
“The craftsmen of the Levant have secrets known only to “Is it a jest, or is it an enigma?” asked the younger man.
themselves,” he said, half in vexation, as he eyed the charac- The other shook his head and said soberly:
ters of this Oriental sentence. “I don’t know how to answer you. I have offered this talis-
“Yes,” said the old man, “it is better to attribute it to man’s man with its terrible powers to men with more energy in

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 The Magic Skin
them than you seem to me to have; but though they laughed springs of life within him. Two verbs cover all the forms which
at the questionable power it might exert over their futures, these two causes of death may take—To Will and To have
not one of them was ready to venture to conclude the fateful your Will. Between these two limits of human activity the
contract proposed by an unknown force. I am of their opin- wise have discovered an intermediate formula, to which I
ion, I have doubted and refrained, and—” owe my good fortune and long life. To Will consumes us,
“Have you never even tried its power?” interrupted the and To have our Will destroys us, but To Know steeps our
young stranger. feeble organisms in perpetual calm. In me Thought has de-
“Tried it!” exclaimed the old man. “Suppose that you were stroyed Will, so that Power is relegated to the ordinary func-
on the column in the Place Vendome, would you try fling- tions of my economy. In a word, it is not in the heart which
ing yourself into space? Is it possible to stay the course of can be broken, or in the senses that become deadened, but it
life? Has a man ever been known to die by halves? Before is in the brain that cannot waste away and survives every-
you came here, you had made up your mind to kill yourself, thing else, that I have set my life. Moderation has kept mind
but all at once a mystery fills your mind, and you think no and body unruffled. Yet, I have seen the whole world. I have
more about death. You child! Does not any one day of your learned all languages, lived after every manner. I have lent a
life afford mysteries more absorbing? Listen to me. I saw the Chinaman money, taking his father’s corpse as a pledge, slept
licentious days of Regency. I was like you, then, in poverty; I in an Arab’s tent on the security of his bare word, signed
have begged my bread; but for all that, I am now a centenar- contracts in every capital of Europe, and left my gold with-
ian with a couple of years to spare, and a millionaire to boot. out hesitation in savage wigwams. I have attained everything,
Misery was the making of me, ignorance has made me because I have known how to despise all things.
learned. I will tell you in a few words the great secret of “My one ambition has been to see. Is not Sight in a man-
human life. By two instinctive processes man exhausts the ner Insight? And to have knowledge or insight, is not that to

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 Balzac
have instinctive possession? To be able to discover the very robust health; and as my mind is endowed with all the force
substance of fact and to unite its essence to our essence? Of that I have not wasted, this head of mine is even better fur-
material possession what abides with you but an idea? Think, nished than my galleries. The true millions lie here,” he said,
then, how glorious must be the life of a man who can stamp striking his forehead. “I spend delicious days in communings
all realities upon his thought, place the springs of happiness with the past; I summon before me whole countries, places,
within himself, and draw thence uncounted pleasures in idea, extents of sea, the fair faces of history. In my imaginary sera-
unspoiled by earthly stains. Thought is a key to all treasures; glio I have all the women that I have never possessed. Your
the miser’s gains are ours without his cares. Thus I have soared wars and revolutions come up before me for judgment. What
above this world, where my enjoyments have been intellec- is a feverish fugitive admiration for some more or less brightly
tual joys. I have reveled in the contemplation of seas, peoples, colored piece of flesh and blood; some more or less rounded
forests, and mountains! I have seen all things, calmly, and human form; what are all the disasters that wait on your
without weariness; I have set my desires on nothing; I have erratic whims, compared with the magnificent power of con-
waited in expectation of everything. I have walked to and juring up the whole world within your soul, compared with
fro in the world as in a garden round about my own dwell- the immeasurable joys of movement, unstrangled by the cords
ing. Troubles, loves, ambitions, losses, and sorrows, as men of time, unclogged by the fetters of space; the joys of be-
call them, are for me ideas, which I transmute into waking holding all things, of comprehending all things, of leaning
dreams; I express and transpose instead of feeling them; in- over the parapet of the world to question the other spheres,
stead of permitting them to prey upon my life, I dramatize to hearken to the voice of God? There,” he burst out, vehe-
and expand them; I divert myself with them as if they were mently, “there are To Will and To have your Will, both to-
romances which I could read by the power of vision within gether,” he pointed to the bit of shagreen; “there are your
me. As I have never overtaxed my constitution, I still enjoy social ideas, your immoderate desires, your excesses, your

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 The Magic Skin
pleasures that end in death, your sorrows that quicken the me have young boon companions, witty, unwarped by preju-
pace of life, for pain is perhaps but a violent pleasure. Who dice, merry to the verge of madness! Let one wine succeed
could determine the point where pleasure becomes pain, another, each more biting and perfumed than the last, and
where pain is still a pleasure? Is not the utmost brightness of strong enough to bring about three days of delirium! Pas-
the ideal world soothing to us, while the lightest shadows of sionate women’s forms should grace that night! I would be
the physical world annoy? Is not knowledge the secret of borne away to unknown regions beyond the confines of this
wisdom? And what is folly but a riotous expenditure of Will world, by the car and four-winged steed of a frantic and up-
or Power?” roarious orgy. Let us ascend to the skies, or plunge ourselves
“Very good then, a life of riotous excess for me!” said the in the mire. I do not know if one soars or sinks at such mo-
stranger, pouncing upon the piece of shagreen. ments, and I do not care! Next, I bid this enigmatical power
“Young man, beware!” cried the other with incredible ve- to concentrate all delights for me in one single joy. Yes, I
hemence. must comprehend every pleasure of earth and heaven in the
“I had resolved my existence into thought and study,” the final embrace that is to kill me. Therefore, after the wine, I
stranger replied; “and yet they have not even supported me. wish to hold high festival to Priapus, with songs that might
I am not to be gulled by a sermon worthy of Swedenborg, rouse the dead, and kisses without end; the sound of them
nor by your Oriental amulet, nor yet by your charitable en- should pass like the crackling of flame through Paris, should
deavors to keep me in a world wherein existence is no longer revive the heat of youth and passion in husband and wife,
possible for me. . . . Let me see now,” he added, clutching even in hearts of seventy years.”
the talisman convulsively, as he looked at the old man, “I A laugh burst from the little old man. It rang in the young
wish for a royal banquet, a carouse worthy of this century, man’s ears like an echo from hell; and tyrannously cut him
which, it is said, has brought everything to perfection! Let short. He said no more.

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 Balzac
“Do you imagine that my floors are going to open sud- should like us to be quits for such a momentous service; that
denly, so that luxuriously-appointed tables may rise through is, if you are not laughing at an unlucky wretch, so I wish
them, and guests from another world? No, no, young mad- that you may fall in love with an opera-dancer. You would
cap. You have entered into the compact now, and there is an understand the pleasures of intemperance then, and might
end of it. Henceforward, your wishes will be accurately ful- perhaps grow lavish of the wealth that you have husbanded
filled, but at the expense of your life. The compass of your so philosophically.”
days, visible in that skin, will contract according to the He went out without heeding the old man’s heavy sigh,
strength and number of your desires, from the least to the went back through the galleries and down the staircase, fol-
most extravagant. The Brahmin from whom I had this skin lowed by the stout assistant who vainly tried to light his pas-
once explained to me that it would bring about a mysterious sage; he fled with the haste of a robber caught in the act.
connection between the fortunes and wishes of its possessor. Blinded by a kind of delirium, he did not even notice the
Your first wish is a vulgar one, which I could fulfil, but I unexpected flexibility of the piece of shagreen, which coiled
leave that to the issues of your new existence. After all, you itself up, pliant as a glove in his excited fingers, till it would
were wishing to die; very well, your suicide is only put off go into the pocket of his coat, where he mechanically thrust
for a time.” it. As he rushed out of the door into the street, he ran up
The stranger was surprised and irritated that this peculiar against three young men who were passing arm-in-arm.
old man persisted in not taking him seriously. A half philan- “Brute!”
thropic intention peeped so clearly forth from his last jesting “Idiot!”
observation, that he exclaimed: Such were the gratifying expressions exchanged between
“I shall soon see, sir, if any change comes over my fortunes them.
in the time it will take to cross the width of the quay. But I “Why, it is Raphael!”

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 The Magic Skin
“Good! we were looking for you.” honor to find out whether you were roosting in a tree in the
“What! it is you, then?” Champs-Elysees, or in one of those philanthropic abodes
These three friendly exclamations quickly followed the in- where the beggars sleep on a twopenny rope, or if, more
sults, as the light of a street lamp, flickering in the wind, fell luckily, you were bivouacking in some boudoir or other. We
upon the astonished faces of the group. could not find you anywhere. Your name was not in the jail-
“My dear fellow, you must come with us!” said the young ers’ registers at the St. Pelagie nor at La Force! Government
man that Raphael had all but knocked down. departments, cafes, libraries, lists of prefects’ names, news-
“What is all this about?” paper offices, restaurants, greenrooms—to cut it short, ev-
“Come along, and I will tell you the history of it as we go.” ery lurking place in Paris, good or bad, has been explored in
By fair means or foul, Raphael must go along with his the most expert manner. We bewailed the loss of a man en-
friends towards the Pont des Arts; they surrounded him, and dowed with such genius, that one might look to find him at
linked him by the arm among their merry band. Court or in the common jails. We talked of canonizing you
“We have been after you for about a week,” the speaker as a hero of July, and, upon my word, we regretted you!”
went on. “At your respectable hotel de Saint Quentin, where, As he spoke, the friends were crossing the Pont des Arts.
by the way, the sign with the alternate black and red letters Without listening to them, Raphael looked at the Seine, at
cannot be removed, and hangs out just as it did in the time the clamoring waves that reflected the lights of Paris. Above
of Jean Jacques, that Leonarda of yours told us that you were that river, in which but now he had thought to fling himself,
off into the country. For all that, we certainly did not look the old man’s prediction had been fulfilled, the hour of his
like duns, creditors, sheriff ’s officers, or the like. But no death had been already put back by fate.
matter! Rastignac had seen you the evening before at the “We really regretted you,” said his friend, still pursuing his
Bouffons; we took courage again, and made it a point of theme. “It was a question of a plan in which we included

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 Balzac
you as a superior person, that is to say, somebody who can say _I_ instead of WE. In a word, a journal, with two or
put himself above other people. The constitutional thimble- three hundred thousand francs, good, at the back of it, has
rig is carried on to-day, dear boy, more seriously than ever. just been started, with a view to making an opposition paper
The infamous monarchy, displaced by the heroism of the to content the discontented, without prejudice to the na-
people, was a sort of drab, you could laugh and revel with tional government of the citizen-king. We scoff at liberty as
her; but La Patrie is a shrewish and virtuous wife, and willy- at despotism now, and at religion or incredulity quite impar-
nilly you must take her prescribed endearments. Then be- tially. And since, for us, ‘our country’ means a capital where
sides, as you know, authority passed over from the Tuileries ideas circulate and are sold at so much a line, a succulent
to the journalists, at the time when the Budget changed its dinner every day, and the play at frequent intervals, where
quarters and went from the Faubourg Saint-Germain to the profligate women swarm, where suppers last on into the next
Chaussee de Antin. But this you may not know perhaps. day, and light loves are hired by the hour like cabs; and since
The Government, that is, the aristocracy of lawyers and bank- Paris will always be the most adorable of all countries, the
ers who represent the country to-day, just as the priests used country of joy, liberty, wit, pretty women, mauvais sujets,
to do in the time of the monarchy, has felt the necessity of and good wine; where the truncheon of authority never makes
mystifying the worthy people of France with a few new words itself disagreeably felt, because one is so close to those who
and old ideas, like philosophers of every school, and all strong wield it,—we, therefore, sectaries of the god Mephistopheles,
intellects ever since time began. So now Royalist-national have engaged to whitewash the public mind, to give fresh
ideas must be inculcated, by proving to us that it is far better costumes to the actors, to put a new plank or two in the
to pay twelve million francs, thirty-three centimes to La Patrie, government booth, to doctor doctrinaires, and warm up old
represented by Messieurs Such-and-Such, than to pay eleven Republicans, to touch up the Bonapartists a bit, and revictual
hundred million francs, nine centimes to a king who used to the Centre; provided that we are allowed to laugh in petto at

33
 The Magic Skin
both kings and peoples, to think one thing in the morning sted. I hope you will not make liars of us. Taillefer, our
and another at night, and to lead a merry life a la Panurge, or amphitryon, has undertaken to surpass the circumscribed
to recline upon soft cushions, more orientali. saturnalias of the petty modern Lucullus. He is rich enough
“The sceptre of this burlesque and macaronic kingdom,” to infuse pomp into trifles, and style and charm into dissipa-
he went on, “we have reserved for you; so we are taking you tion … Are you listening, Raphael?” asked the orator, inter-
straightway to a dinner given by the founder of the said news- rupting himself.
paper, a retired banker, who, at a loss to know what to do “Yes,” answered the young man, less surprised by the ac-
with his money, is going to buy some brains with it. You will complishment of his wishes than by the natural manner in
be welcomed as a brother, we shall hail you as king of these which the events had come about.
free lances who will undertake anything; whose perspicacity He could not bring himself to believe in magic, but he
discovers the intentions of Austria, England, or Russia be- marveled at the accidents of human fate.
fore either Russia, Austria or England have formed any. Yes, “Yes, you say, just as if you were thinking of your
we will invest you with the sovereignty of those puissant in- grandfather’s demise,” remarked one of his neighbors.
tellects which give to the world its Mirabeaus, Talleyrands, “Ah!” cried Raphael, “I was thinking, my friends, that we
Pitts, and Metternichs—all the clever Crispins who treat the are in a fair way to become very great scoundrels,” and there
destinies of a kingdom as gamblers’ stakes, just as ordinary was an ingenuousness in his tones that set these writers, the
men play dominoes for Kirschenwasser. We have given you hope of young France, in a roar. “So far our blasphemies
out to be the most undaunted champion who ever wrestled have been uttered over our cups; we have passed our judg-
in a drinking-bout at close quarters with the monster called ments on life while drunk, and taken men and affairs in an
Carousal, whom all bold spirits wish to try a fall with; we after-dinner frame of mind. We were innocent of action; we
have gone so far as to say that you have never yet been wor- were bold in words. But now we are to be branded with the

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 Balzac
hot iron of politics; we are going to enter the convict’s prison of infirmary reserved for little Lord Byrons who, having
and to drop our illusions. Although one has no belief left, crumpled up their lives like a serviette after dinner, have noth-
except in the devil, one may regret the paradise of one’s youth ing left to do but to set their country ablaze, blow their own
and the age of innocence, when we devoutly offered the tip of brains out, plot for a republic or clamor for a war—”
our tongue to some good priest for the consecrated wafer of “Emile,” Raphael’s neighbor called eagerly to the speaker,
the sacrament. Ah, my good friends, our first peccadilloes gave “on my honor, but for the revolution of July I would have
us so much pleasure because the consequent remorse set them taken orders, and gone off down into the country somewhere
off and lent a keen relish to them; but nowadays—” to lead the life of an animal, and—”
“Oh! now,” said the first speaker, “there is still left—” “And you would have read your breviary through every
“What?” asked another. day.”
“Crime—” “Yes.”
“There is a word as high as the gallows and deeper than “You are a coxcomb!”
the Seine,” said Raphael. “Why, we read the newspapers as it is!”
“Oh, you don’t understand me; I mean political crime. Since “Not bad that, for a journalist! But hold your tongue, we
this morning, a conspirator’s life is the only one I covet. I don’t are going through a crowd of subscribers. Journalism, look
know that the fancy will last over to-morrow, but to-night at you, is the religion of modern society, and has even gone a
least my gorge rises at the anaemic life of our civilization and little further.”
its railroad evenness. I am seized with a passion for the miser- “What do you mean?”
ies of retreat from Moscow, for the excitements of the Red “Its pontiffs are not obliged to believe in it any more than
Corsair, or for a smuggler’s life. I should like to go to Botany the people are.”
Bay, as we have no Chartreaux left us here in France; it is a sort Chatting thus, like good fellows who have known their De

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 The Magic Skin
Viris illustribus for years past, they reached a mansion in the est of the staircase.
Rue Joubert. “I like a vestibule to be well warmed and richly carpeted,”
Emile was a journalist who had acquired more reputation Raphael said. “Luxury in the peristyle is not common in
by dint of doing nothing than others had derived from their France. I feel as if life had begun anew here.”
achievements. A bold, caustic, and powerful critic, he pos- “And up above we are going to drink and make merry once
sessed all the qualities that his defects permitted. An outspo- more, my dear Raphael. Ah! yes,” he went on, “and I hope
ken giber, he made numberless epigrams on a friend to his we are going to come off conquerors, too, and walk over
face; but would defend him, if absent, with courage and loy- everybody else’s head.”
alty. He laughed at everything, even at his own career. Al- As he spoke, he jestingly pointed to the guests. They were
ways impecunious, he yet lived, like all men of his calibre, entering a large room which shone with gilding and lights,
plunged in unspeakable indolence. He would fling some word and there all the younger men of note in Paris welcomed
containing volumes in the teeth of folk who could not put a them. Here was one who had just revealed fresh powers, his
syllable of sense into their books. He lavished promises that first picture vied with the glories of Imperial art. There, an-
he never fulfilled; he made a pillow of his luck and reputa- other, who but yesterday had launched forth a volume, an
tion, on which he slept, and ran the risk of waking up to old acrid book filled with a sort of literary arrogance, which
age in a workhouse. A steadfast friend to the gallows foot, a opened up new ways to the modern school. A sculptor, not
cynical swaggerer with a child’s simplicity, a worker only from far away, with vigorous power visible in his rough features,
necessity or caprice. was chatting with one of those unenthusiastic scoffers who
“In the language of Maitre Alcofribas, we are about to make can either see excellence anywhere or nowhere, as it hap-
a famous troncon de chiere lie,” he remarked to Raphael as pens. Here, the cleverest of our caricaturists, with mischie-
he pointed out the flower-stands that made a perfumed for- vous eyes and bitter tongue, lay in wait for epigrams to trans-

36
 Balzac
late into pencil strokes; there, stood the young and auda- likes or dislikes in men or affairs, had already begun a two-
cious writer, who distilled the quintessence of political ideas edged policy, conspiring against all systems, without com-
better than any other man, or compressed the work of some mitting themselves to any side. Then there was the self-ap-
prolific writer as he held him up to ridicule; he was talking pointed critic who admires nothing, and will blow his nose
with the poet whose works would have eclipsed all the writ- in the middle of a cavatina at the Bouffons, who applauds
ings of the time if his ability had been as strenuous as his before any one else begins, and contradicts every one who
hatreds. Both were trying not to say the truth while they says what he himself was about to say; he was there giving
kept clear of lies, as they exchanged flattering speeches. A out the sayings of wittier men for his own. Of all the as-
famous musician administered soothing consolation in a ral- sembled guests, a future lay before some five; ten or so should
lying fashion, to a young politician who had just fallen quite acquire a fleeting renown; as for the rest, like all mediocri-
unhurt, from his rostrum. Young writers who lacked style ties, they might apply to themselves the famous falsehood of
stood beside other young writers who lacked ideas, and au- Louis XVIII., Union and oblivion.
thors of poetical prose by prosaic poets. The anxious jocularity of a man who is expending two
At the sight of all these incomplete beings, a simple Saint thousand crowns sat on their host. His eyes turned impa-
Simonian, ingenuous enough to believe in his own doctrine, tiently towards the door from time to time, seeking one of
charitably paired them off, designing, no doubt, to convert his guests who kept him waiting. Very soon a stout little
them into monks of his order. A few men of science mingled person appeared, who was greeted by a complimentary mur-
in the conversation, like nitrogen in the atmosphere, and mur; it was the notary who had invented the newspaper that
several vaudevillistes shed rays like the sparking diamonds very morning. A valet-de-chambre in black opened the doors
that give neither light nor heat. A few paradox-mongers, of a vast dining-room, whither every one went without cer-
laughing up their sleeves at any folk who embraced their emony, and took his place at an enormous table.

37
 The Magic Skin
Raphael took a last look round the room before he left it. would be a burden to you as soon as you found that they
His wish had been realized to the full. The rooms were would spoil your chances of coming out above the rest of us.
adorned with silk and gold. Countless wax tapers set in hand- Hasn’t the artist always kept the balance true between the
some candelabra lit up the slightest details of gilded friezes, poverty of riches and the riches of poverty? And isn’t struggle
the delicate bronze sculpture, and the splendid colors of the a necessity to some of us? Look out for your digestion, and
furniture. The sweet scent of rare flowers, set in stands taste- only look,” he added, with a mock-heroic gesture, “at the
fully made of bamboo, filled the air. Everything, even the majestic, thrice holy, and edifying appearance of this ami-
curtains, was pervaded by elegance without pretension, and able capitalist’s dining-room. That man has in reality only
there was a certain imaginative charm about it all which acted made his money for our benefit. Isn’t he a kind of sponge of
like a spell on the mind of a needy man. the polyp order, overlooked by naturalists, which should be
“An income of a hundred thousand livres a year is a very carefully squeezed before he is left for his heirs to feed upon?
nice beginning of the catechism, and a wonderful assistance There is style, isn’t there, about those bas-reliefs that adorn
to putting morality into our actions,” he said, sighing. “Truly the walls? And the lustres, and the pictures, what luxury well
my sort of virtue can scarcely go afoot, and vice means, to carried out! If one may believe those who envy him, or who
my thinking, a garret, a threadbare coat, a gray hat in winter know, or think they know, the origins of his life, then this
time, and sums owing to the porter. . . . I should like to live man got rid of a German and some others—his best friend
in the lap of luxury a year, or six months, no matter! And for one, and the mother of that friend, during the Revolu-
then afterwards, die. I should have known, exhausted, and tion. Could you house crimes under the venerable Taillefer’s
consumed a thousand lives, at any rate.” silvering locks? He looks to me a very worthy man. Only see
“Why, you are taking the tone of a stockbroker in good how the silver sparkles, and is every glittering ray like a stab
luck,” said Emile, who overheard him. “Pooh! your riches of a dagger to him? … Let us go in, one might as well believe

38
 Balzac
in Mahomet. If common report speak truth, here are thirty deaux and Burgundy, white and red, were royally lavished.
men of talent, and good fellows too, prepared to dine off the This first part of the banquet might been compared in every
flesh and blood of a whole family; … and here are we our- way to a rendering of some classical tragedy. The second act
selves, a pair of youngsters full of open-hearted enthusiasm, grew a trifle noisier. Every guest had had a fair amount to
and we shall be partakers in his guilt. I have a mind to ask drink, and had tried various crus at this pleasure, so that as
our capitalist whether he is a respectable character … .” the remains of the magnificent first course were removed,
“No, not now,” cried Raphael, “but when he is dead drunk, tumultuous discussions began; a pale brow here and there
we shall have had our dinner then.” began to flush, sundry noses took a purpler hue, faces lit up,
The two friends sat down laughing. First of all, by a glance and eyes sparkled.
more rapid than a word, each paid his tribute of admiration While intoxication was only dawning, the conversation did
to the splendid general effect of the long table, white as a not overstep the bounds of civility; but banter and bon mots
bank of freshly-fallen snow, with its symmetrical line of cov- slipped by degrees from every tongue; and then slander be-
ers, crowned with their pale golden rolls of bread. Rainbow gan to rear its little snake’s heard, and spoke in dulcet tones;
colors gleamed in the starry rays of light reflected by the a few shrewd ones here and there gave heed to it, hoping to
glass; the lights of the tapers crossed and recrossed each other keep their heads. So the second course found their minds
indefinitely; the dishes covered with their silver domes whet- somewhat heated. Every one ate as he spoke, spoke while he
ted both appetite and curiosity. ate, and drank without heeding the quantity of the liquor,
Few words were spoken. Neighbors exchanged glances as the wine was so biting, the bouquet so fragrant, the example
the Maderia circulated. Then the first course appeared in all around so infectious. Taillefer made a point of stimulating
its glory; it would have done honor to the late Cambaceres, his guests, and plied them with the formidable wines of the
Brillat-Savarin would have celebrated it. The wines of Bor- Rhone, with fierce Tokay, and heady old Roussillon.

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 The Magic Skin
The champagne, impatiently expected and lavishly poured It was at once a volume and a picture. Every philosophy,
out, was a scourge of fiery sparks to these men; released like religion, and moral code differing so greatly in every lati-
post-horses from some mail-coach by a relay; they let their tude, every government, every great achievement of the hu-
spirits gallop away into the wilds of argument to which no man intellect, fell before a scythe as long as Time’s own; and
one listened, began to tell stories which had no auditors, and you might have found it hard to decide whether it was wielded
repeatedly asked questions to which no answer was made. by Gravity intoxicated, or by Inebriation grown sober and
Only the loud voice of wassail could be heard, a voice made clear-sighted. Borne away by a kind of tempest, their minds,
up of a hundred confused clamors, which rose and grew like like the sea raging against the cliffs, seemed ready to shake
a crescendo of Rossini’s. Insidious toasts, swagger, and chal- the laws which confine the ebb and flow of civilization; un-
lenges followed. consciously fulfilling the will of God, who has suffered evil
Each renounced any pride in his own intellectual capacity, and good to abide in nature, and reserved the secret of their
in order to vindicate that of hogsheads, casks, and vats; and continual strife to Himself. A frantic travesty of debate en-
each made noise enough for two. A time came when the foot- sued, a Walpurgis-revel of intellects. Between the dreary jests
men smiled, while their masters all talked at once. A philoso- of these children of the Revolution over the inauguration of
pher would have been interested, doubtless, by the singularity a newspaper, and the talk of the joyous gossips at Gargantua’s
of the thoughts expressed, a politician would have been amazed birth, stretched the gulf that divides the nineteenth century
by the incongruity of the methods discussed in the melee of from the sixteenth. Laughingly they had begun the work of
words or doubtfully luminous paradoxes, where truths, gro- destruction, and our journalists laughed amid the ruins.
tesquely caparisoned, met in conflict across the uproar of brawl- “What is the name of that young man over there?” said the
ing judgments, of arbitrary decisions and folly, much as bul- notary, indicating Raphael. “I thought I heard some one call
lets, shells, and grapeshot are hurled across a battlefield. him Valentin.”

40
 Balzac
“What stuff is this?” said Emile, laughing; “plain Valentin, fivepence a line.
say you? Raphael DE Valentin, if you please. We bear an “Perhaps Moses, Sylla, Louis XI., Richelieu, Robespierre,
eagle or, on a field sable, with a silver crown, beak and claws and Napoleon were but the same man who crosses our civi-
gules, and a fine motto: Non Cecidit Animus. We are no lizations now and again, like a comet across the sky,” said a
foundling child, but a descendant of the Emperor Valens, of disciple of Ballanche.
the stock of the Valentinois, founders of the cities of Valence “Why try to fathom the designs of Providence?” said Cana-
in France, and Valencia in Spain, rightful heirs to the Em- lis, maker of ballads.
pire of the East. If we suffer Mahmoud on the throne of “Come, now,” said the man who set up for a critic, “there
Byzantium, it is out of pure condescension, and for lack of is nothing more elastic in the world than your Providence.”
funds and soldiers.” “Well, sir, Louis XIV. sacrificed more lives over digging
With a fork flourished above Raphael’s head, Emile out- the foundations of the Maintenon’s aqueducts, than the Con-
lined a crown upon it. The notary bethought himself a mo- vention expended in order to assess the taxes justly, to make
ment, but soon fell to drinking again, with a gesture peculiar one law for everybody, and one nation of France, and to
to himself; it was quite impossible, it seemed to say to secure establish the rule of equal inheritance,” said Massol, whom
in his clientele the cities of Valence and Byzantium, the Em- the lack of a syllable before his name had made a Republi-
peror Valens, Mahmoud, and the house of Valentinois. can.
“Should not the destruction of those ant-hills, Babylon, “Are you going to leave our heads on our shoulders?” asked
Tyre, Carthage, and Venice, each crushed beneath the foot Moreau (of the Oise), a substantial farmer. “You, sir, who
of a passing giant, serve as a warning to man, vouchsafed by took blood for wine just now?”
some mocking power?” said Claude Vignon, who must play “Where is the use? Aren’t the principles of social order worth
the Bossuet, as a sort of purchased slave, at the rate of some sacrifices, sir?”

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 The Magic Skin
“Hi! Bixiou! What’s-his-name, the Republican, considers left him to clean my clothes after his fashion, he would soon
a landowner’s head a sacrifice!” said a young man to his neigh- clean me out.”
bor. “Crass idiots!” replied the Republican, “you are for setting
“Men and events count for nothing,” said the Republican, a nation straight with toothpicks. To your way of thinking,
following out his theory in spite of hiccoughs; “in politics, as justice is more dangerous than thieves.”
in philosophy, there are only principles and ideas.” “Oh, dear!” cried the attorney Deroches.
“What an abomination! Then you would ruthlessly put “Aren’t they a bore with their politics!” said the notary
your friends to death for a shibboleth?” Cardot. “Shut up. That’s enough of it. There is no knowl-
“Eh, sir! the man who feels compunction is your thorough edge nor virtue worth shedding a drop of blood for. If Truth
scoundrel, for he has some notion of virtue; while Peter the were brought into liquidation, we might find her insolvent.”
Great and the Duke of Alva were embodied systems, and the “It would be much less trouble, no doubt, to amuse our-
pirate Monbard an organization.” selves with evil, rather than dispute about good. Moreover, I
“But can’t society rid itself of your systems and organiza- would give all the speeches made for forty years past at the
tions?” said Canalis. Tribune for a trout, for one of Perrault’s tales or Charlet’s
“Oh, granted!” cried the Republican. sketches.”
“That stupid Republic of yours makes me feel queasy. We “Quite right! … Hand me the asparagus. Because, after
sha’n’t be able to carve a capon in peace, because we shall all, liberty begets anarchy, anarchy leads to despotism, and
find the agrarian law inside it.” despotism back again to liberty. Millions have died without
“Ah, my little Brutus, stuffed with truffles, your principles securing a triumph for any one system. Is not that the vi-
are all right enough. But you are like my valet, the rogue is cious circle in which the whole moral world revolves? Man
so frightfully possessed with a mania for property that if I believes that he has reached perfection, when in fact he has

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 Balzac
but rearranged matters.” “Who is talking about death? Pray don’t trifle, I have an
“Oh! oh!” cried Cursy, the vaudevilliste; “in that case, uncle.”
gentlemen, here’s to Charles X., the father of liberty.” “Could you bear his loss with resignation?”
“Why not?” asked Emile. “When law becomes despotic, “No question.”
morals are relaxed, and vice versa. “Gentlemen, listen to me! How to kill an uncle. Silence!
“Let us drink to the imbecility of authority, which gives us (Cries of “Hush! hush!”) In the first place, take an uncle,
such an authority over imbeciles!” said the good banker. large and stout, seventy years old at least, they are the best
“Napoleon left us glory, at any rate, my good friend!” ex- uncles. (Sensation.) Get him to eat a pate de foie gras, any
claimed a naval officer who had never left Brest. pretext will do.”
“Glory is a poor bargain; you buy it dear, and it will not “Ah, but my uncle is a thin, tall man, and very niggardly
keep. Does not the egotism of the great take the form of and abstemious.”
glory, just as for nobodies it is their own well-being?” “That sort of uncle is a monster; he misappropriates exist-
“You are very fortunate, sir—” ence.”
“The first inventor of ditches must have been a weakling, “Then,” the speaker on uncles went on, “tell him, while he
for society is only useful to the puny. The savage and the is digesting it, that his banker has failed.”
philosopher, at either extreme of the moral scale, hold prop- “How if he bears up?”
erty in equal horror.” “Let loose a pretty girl on him.”
“All very fine!” said Cardot; “but if there were no property, “And if—?” asked the other, with a shake of the head.
there would be no documents to draw up.” “Then he wouldn’t be an uncle—an uncle is a gay dog by
“These green peas are excessively delicious!” nature.”
“And the cure was found dead in his bed in the morning … .” “Malibran has lost two notes in her voice.”

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 The Magic Skin
“No, sir, she has not.” “He has very clever collaborators, sir.”
“Yes, sir, she has.” “Or Canalis?”
“Oh, ho! No and yes, is not that the sum-up of all reli- “He is a great man; let us say no more about him.”
gious, political, or literary dissertations? Man is a clown danc- “You are all drunk!”
ing on the edge of an abyss.” “The consequence of a Constitution is the immediate stul-
“You would make out that I am a fool.” tification of intellects. Art, science, public works, everything,
“On the contrary, you cannot make me out.” is consumed by a horribly egoistic feeling, the leprosy of the
“Education, there’s a pretty piece of tomfoolery. M. time. Three hundred of your bourgeoisie, set down on
Heineffettermach estimates the number of printed volumes benches, will only think of planting poplars. Tyranny does
at more than a thousand millions; and a man cannot read great things lawlessly, while Liberty will scarcely trouble her-
more than a hundred and fifty thousand in his lifetime. So, self to do petty ones lawfully.”
just tell me what that word education means. For some it “Your reciprocal instruction will turn out counters in hu-
consists in knowing the name of Alexander’s horse, of the man flesh,” broke in an Absolutist. “All individuality will
dog Berecillo, of the Seigneur d’Accords, and in ignorance disappear in a people brought to a dead level by education.”
of the man to whom we owe the discovery of rafting and the “For all that, is not the aim of society to secure happiness
manufacture of porcelain. For others it is the knowledge how to each member of it?” asked the Saint-Simonian.
to burn a will and live respected, be looked up to and popu- “If you had an income of fifty thousand livres, you would
lar, instead of stealing a watch with half-a-dozen aggravating not think much about the people. If you are smitten with a
circumstances, after a previous conviction, and so perishing, tender passion for the race, go to Madagascar; there you will
hated and dishonored, in the Place de Greve.” find a nice little nation all ready to Saint-Simonize, classify,
“Will Nathan’s work live?” and cork up in your phials, but here every one fits into his

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 Balzac
niche like a peg in a hole. A porter is a porter, and a block- is steadily approaching a social dissolution, with interest as
head is a fool, without a college of fathers to promote them its one opposing barrier. We depend no longer on either re-
to those positions.” ligion or physical force, but upon intellect. Can a book re-
“You are a Carlist.” place the sword? Can discussion be a substitute for action?
“And why not? Despotism pleases me; it implies a certain That is the question.”
contempt for the human race. I have no animosity against “Intellect has made an end of everything,” cried the Carlist.
kings, they are so amusing. Is it nothing to sit enthroned in “Come now! Absolute freedom has brought about national
a room, at a distance of thirty million leagues from the sun?” suicides; their triumph left them as listless as an English mil-
“Let us once more take a broad view of civilization,” said lionaire.”
the man of learning who, for the benefit of the inattentive “Won’t you tell us something new? You have made fun of
sculptor, had opened a discussion on primitive society and authority of all sorts to-day, which is every bit as vulgar as
autochthonous races. “The vigor of a nation in its origin was denying the existence of God. So you have no belief left, and
in a way physical, unitary, and crude; then as aggregations the century is like an old Sultan worn out by debauchery!
increased, government advanced by a decomposition of the Your Byron, in short, sings of crime and its emotions in a
primitive rule, more or less skilfully managed. For example, final despair of poetry.”
in remote ages national strength lay in theocracy, the priest “Don’t you know,” replied Bianchon, quite drunk by this
held both sword and censer; a little later there were two priests, time, “that a dose of phosphorus more or less makes the man
the pontiff and the king. To-day our society, the latest word of genius or the scoundrel, a clever man or an idiot, a virtu-
of civilization, has distributed power according to the num- ous person or a criminal?”
ber of combinations, and we come to the forces called busi- “Can any one treat of virtue thus?” cried Cursy. “Virtue,
ness, thought, money, and eloquence. Authority thus divided the subject of every drama at the theatre, the denoument of

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 The Magic Skin
every play, the foundation of every court of law … .” the gilded horns and feet, and do not carp at your mother…”
“Be quiet, you ass. You are an Achilles for virtue, without “Is it any fault of mine if Catholicism puts a million dei-
his heel,” said Bixiou. ties in a sack of flour, that Republics will end in a Napoleon,
“Some drink!” that monarchy dwells between the assassination of Henry
“What will you bet that I will drink a bottle of champagne IV. and the trial of Louis XVI., and Liberalism produces
like a flash, at one pull?” Lafayettes?”
“What a flash of wit!” “Didn’t you embrace him in July?”
“Drunk as lords,” muttered a young man gravely, trying to “No.”
give some wine to his waistcoat. “Then hold your tongue, you sceptic.”
“Yes, sir; real government is the art of ruling by public “Sceptics are the most conscientious of men.”
opinion.” “They have no conscience.”
“Opinion? That is the most vicious jade of all. According “What are you saying? They have two apiece at least!”
to you moralists and politicians, the laws you set up are al- “So you want to discount heaven, a thoroughly commer-
ways to go before those of nature, and opinion before con- cial notion. Ancient religions were but the unchecked devel-
science. You are right and wrong both. Suppose society be- opment of physical pleasure, but we have developed a soul
stows down pillows on us, that benefit is made up for by the and expectations; some advance has been made.”
gout; and justice is likewise tempered by red-tape, and colds “What can you expect, my friends, of a century filled with
accompany cashmere shawls.” politics to repletion?” asked Nathan. “What befell The His-
“Wretch!” Emile broke in upon the misanthrope, “how tory of the King of Bohemia and his Seven Castles, a most
can you slander civilization here at table, up to the eyes in entrancing conception? …”
wines and exquisite dishes? Eat away at that roebuck with “I say,” the would-be critic cried down the whole length of

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 Balzac
the table. “The phrases might have been drawn at hap-haz- “Kant? Yet another ball flung out for fools to sport with,
ard from a hat, ’twas a work written ‘down to Charenton.’ “ sir! Materialism and spiritualism are a fine pair of battledores
“You are a fool!” with which charlatans in long gowns keep a shuttlecock a-
“And you are a rogue!” going. Suppose that God is everywhere, as Spinoza says, or
“Oh! oh!” that all things proceed from God, as says St. Paul … the
“Ah! ah!” nincompoops, the door shuts or opens, but isn’t the move-
“They are going to fight.” ment the same? Does the fowl come from the egg, or the egg
“No, they aren’t.” from the fowl? … Just hand me some duck … and there,
“You will find me to-morrow, sir.” you have all science.”
“This very moment,” Nathan answered. “Simpleton!” cried the man of science, “your problem is
“Come, come, you pair of fire-eaters!” settled by fact!”
“You are another!” said the prime mover in the quarrel. “What fact?”
“Ah, I can’t stand upright, perhaps?” asked the pugnacious “Professors’ chairs were not made for philosophy, but phi-
Nathan, straightening himself up like a stag-beetle about to fly. losophy for the professors’ chairs. Put on a pair of spectacles
He stared stupidly round the table, then, completely ex- and read the budget.”
hausted by the effort, sank back into his chair, and mutely “Thieves!”
hung his head. “Nincompoops!”
“Would it not have been nice,” the critic said to his neigh- “Knaves!”
bor, “to fight about a book I have neither read nor seen?” “Gulls!”
“Emile, look out for your coat; your neighbor is growing “Where but in Paris will you find such a ready and rapid
pale,” said Bixiou. exchange of thought?” cried Bixiou in a deep, bass voice.

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 The Magic Skin
“Bixiou! Act a classical farce for us! Come now.” Setubal by steamer, pomegranates, Chinese fruit; in short,
“Would you like me to depict the nineteenth century?” all the surprises of luxury, miracles of confectionery, the most
“Silence.” tempting dainties, and choicest delicacies. The coloring of
“Pay attention.” this epicurean work of art was enhanced by the splendors of
“Clap a muffle on your trumpets.” porcelain, by sparkling outlines of gold, by the chasing of
“Shut up, you Turk!” the vases. Poussin’s landscapes, copied on Sevres ware, were
“Give him some wine, and let that fellow keep quiet.” crowned with graceful fringes of moss, green, translucent,
“Now, then, Bixiou!” and fragile as ocean weeds.
The artist buttoned his black coat to the collar, put on The revenue of a German prince would not have defrayed
yellow gloves, and began to burlesque the Revue des Deux the cost of this arrogant display. Silver and mother-of-pearl,
Mondes by acting a squinting old lady; but the uproar gold and crystal, were lavished afresh in new forms; but
drowned his voice, and no one heard a word of the satire. scarcely a vague idea of this almost Oriental fairyland pen-
Still, if he did not catch the spirit of the century, he repre- etrated eyes now heavy with wine, or crossed the delirium of
sented the Revue at any rate, for his own intentions were not intoxication. The fire and fragrance of the wines acted like
very clear to him. potent philters and magical fumes, producing a kind of mi-
Dessert was served as if by magic. A huge epergne of gilded rage in the brain, binding feet, and weighing down hands.
bronze from Thomire’s studio overshadowed the table. Tall The clamor increased. Words were no longer distinct, glasses
statuettes, which a celebrated artist had endued with ideal flew in pieces, senseless peals of laughter broke out. Cursy
beauty according to conventional European notions, sus- snatched up a horn and struck up a flourish on it. It acted
tained and carried pyramids of strawberries, pines, fresh dates, like a signal given by the devil. Yells, hisses, songs, cries, and
golden grapes, clear-skinned peaches, oranges brought from groans went up from the maddened crew. You might have

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 Balzac
smiled to see men, light-hearted by nature, grow tragical as “There’s a statute of limitations,” said the murderer-
Crebillon’s dramas, and pensive as a sailor in a coach. Hard- Croesus.
headed men blabbed secrets to the inquisitive, who were long “And on his tombstone,” Emile began, with a sardonic
past heeding them. Saturnine faces were wreathed in smiles laugh, “the stonemason will carve ‘Passer-by, accord a tear,
worthy of a pirouetting dancer. Claude Vignon shuffled about in memory of one that’s here!’ Oh,” he continued, “I would
like a bear in a cage. Intimate friends began to fight. cheerfully pay a hundred sous to any mathematician who
Animal likenesses, so curiously traced by physiologists in would prove the existence of hell to me by an algebraical
human faces, came out in gestures and behavior. A book lay equation.”
open for a Bichat if he had repaired thither fasting and col- He flung up a coin and cried:
lected. The master of the house, knowing his condition, did “Heads for the existence of God!”
not dare stir, but encouraged his guests’ extravangances with “Don’t look!” Raphael cried, pouncing upon it. “Who
a fixed grimacing smile, meant to be hospitable and appro- knows? Suspense is so pleasant.”
priate. His large face, turning from blue and red to a purple “Unluckily,” Emile said, with burlesque melancholy, “I can
shade terrible to see, partook of the general commotion by see no halting-place between the unbeliever’s arithmetic and
movements like the heaving and pitching of a brig. the papal Pater noster. Pshaw! let us drink. Trinq was, I be-
“Now, did you murder them?” Emile asked him. lieve, the oracular answer of the dive bouteille and the final
“Capital punishment is going to be abolished, they say, in conclusion of Pantagruel.”
favor of the Revolution of July,” answered Taillefer, raising “We owe our arts and monuments to the Pater noster, and
his eyebrows with drunken sagacity. our knowledge, too, perhaps; and a still greater benefit—
“Don’t they rise up before you in dreams at times?” Raphael modern government—whereby a vast and teeming society is
persisted. wondrously represented by some five hundred intellects. It

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 The Magic Skin
neutralizes opposing forces and gives free play to civilization, every spark of intelligence is quenched, and the body, set
that Titan queen who has succeeded the ancient terrible figure free from its tyranny, gives itself up to the frenetic joys of
of the king, that sham Providence, reared by man between liberty. Some who had arrived at the apogee of intoxication
himself and heaven. In the face of such achievements, atheism were dejected, as they painfully tried to arrest a single thought
seems like a barren skeleton. What do you say?” which might assure them of their own existence; others, deep
“I am thinking of the seas of blood shed by Catholicism.” in the heavy morasses of indigestion, denied the possibility
Emile replied, quite unimpressed. “It has drained our hearts of movement. The noisy and the silent were oddly assorted.
and veins dry to make a mimic deluge. No matter! Every For all that, when new joys were announced to them by
man who thinks must range himself beneath the banner of the stentorian tones of the servant, who spoke on his master’s
Christ, for He alone has consummated the triumph of spirit behalf, they all rose, leaning upon, dragging or carrying one
over matter; He alone has revealed to us, like a poet, an in- another. But on the threshold of the room the entire crew
termediate world that separates us from the Deity.” paused for a moment, motionless, as if fascinated. The in-
“Believest thou?” asked Raphael with an unaccountable temperate pleasures of the banquet seemed to fade away at
drunken smile. “Very good; we must not commit ourselves; this titillating spectacle, prepared by their amphitryon to
so we will drink the celebrated toast, Diis ignotis!” appeal to the most sensual of their instincts.
And they drained the chalice filled up with science, car- Beneath the shining wax-lights in a golden chandelier,
bonic acid gas, perfumes, poetry, and incredulity. round about a table inlaid with gilded metal, a group of
“If the gentlemen will go to the drawing-room, coffee is women, whose eyes shone like diamonds, suddenly met the
ready for them,” said the major-domo. stupefied stare of the revelers. Their toilettes were splendid,
There was scarcely one of those present whose mind was but less magnificent than their beauty, which eclipsed the
not floundering by this time in the delights of chaos, where other marvels of this palace. A light shone from their eyes,

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 Balzac
bewitching as those of sirens, more brilliant and ardent than woman seemed like a spirit of melancholy—some coy, pale,
the blaze that streamed down upon the snowy marble, the shadowy form among Ossian’s mists, or a type of remorse fly-
delicately carved surfaces of bronze, and lit up the satin sheen ing from crime. The Parisienne was not wanting in all her
of the tapestry. The contrasts of their attitudes and the slight beauty that consists in an indescribable charm; armed with
movements of their heads, each differing in character and her irresistible weakness, vain of her costume and her wit, pli-
nature of attraction, set the heart afire. It was like a thicket, ant and hard, a heartless, passionless siren that yet can create
where blossoms mingled with rubies, sapphires, and coral; a factitious treasures of passion and counterfeit emotion.
combination of gossamer scarves that flickered like beacon- Italians shone in the throng, serene and self-possessed in
lights; of black ribbons about snowy throats; of gorgeous their bliss; handsome Normans, with splendid figures; women
turbans and demurely enticing apparel. It was a seraglio that of the south, with black hair and well-shaped eyes. Lebel
appealed to every eye, and fulfilled every fancy. Each form might have summoned together all the fair women of
posed to admiration was scarcely concealed by the folds of Versailles, who since morning had perfected all their wiles,
cashmere, and half hidden, half revealed by transparent gauze and now came like a troupe of Oriental women, bidden by
and diaphanous silk. The little slender feet were eloquent, the slave merchant to be ready to set out at dawn. They stood
though the fresh red lips uttered no sound. disconcerted and confused about the table, huddled together
Demure and fragile-looking girls, pictures of maidenly in- in a murmuring group like bees in a hive. The combination
nocence, with a semblance of conventional unction about of timid embarrassment with coquettishness and a sort of
their heads, were there like apparitions that a breath might expostulation was the result either of calculated effect or a
dissipate. Aristocratic beauties with haughty glances, languid, spontaneous modesty. Perhaps a sentiment of which women
flexible, slender, and complaisant, bent their heads as though are never utterly divested prescribed to them the cloak of
there were royal protectors still in the market. An English- modesty to heighten and enhance the charms of wanton-

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 The Magic Skin
ness. So the venerable Taillefer’s designs seemed on the point room where ladies and young girls offer after dinner the as-
of collapse, for these unbridled natures were subdued from sistance that coffee, liqueurs, and sugar afford to diners who
the very first by the majesty with which woman is invested. are struggling in the toils of a perverse digestion. But in a
There was a murmur of admiration, which vibrated like a little while laughter broke out, the murmur grew, and voices
soft musical note. Wine had not taken love for traveling com- were raised. The saturnalia, subdued for a moment, threat-
panion; instead of a violent tumult of passions, the guests ened at times to renew itself. The alternations of sound and
thus taken by surprise, in a moment of weakness, gave them- silence bore a distant resemblance to a symphony of
selves up to luxurious raptures of delight. Beethoven’s.
Artists obeyed the voice of poetry which constrains them, The two friends, seated on a silken divan, were first ap-
and studied with pleasure the different delicate tints of these proached by a tall, well-proportioned girl of stately bearing;
chosen examples of beauty. Sobered by a thought perhaps her features were irregular, but her face was striking and ve-
due to some emanation from a bubble of carbonic acid in hement in expression, and impressed the mind by the vigor
the champagne, a philosopher shuddered at the misfortunes of its contrasts. Her dark hair fell in luxuriant curls, with
which had brought these women, once perhaps worthy of which some hand seemed to have played havoc already, for
the truest devotion, to this. Each one doubtless could have the locks fell lightly over the splendid shoulders that thus
unfolded a cruel tragedy. Infernal tortures followed in the attracted attention. The long brown curls half hid her queenly
train of most of them, and they drew after them faithless throat, though where the light fell upon it, the delicacy of its
men, broken vows, and pleasures atoned for in wretched- fine outlines was revealed. Her warm and vivid coloring was
ness. Polite advances were made by the guests, and conversa- set off by the dead white of her complexion. Bold and ar-
tions began, as varied in character as the speakers. They broke dent glances came from under the long eyelashes; the damp,
up into groups. It might have been a fashionable drawing- red, half-open lips challenged a kiss. Her frame was strong

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 Balzac
but compliant; with a bust and arms strongly developed, as devour; laugh like a devil, or weep as angels can. She could
in figures drawn by the Caracci, she yet seemed active and concentrate in one instant all a woman’s powers of attraction
elastic, with a panther’s strength and suppleness, and in the in a single effort (the sighs of melancholy and the charms of
same way the energetic grace of her figure suggested fierce maiden’s shyness alone excepted), then in a moment rise in
pleasures. fury like a nation in revolt, and tear herself, her passion, and
But though she might romp perhaps and laugh, there was her lover, in pieces.
something terrible in her eyes and her smile. Like a pytho- Dressed in red velvet, she trampled under her reckless feet
ness possessed by the demon, she inspired awe rather than the stray flowers fallen from other heads, and held out a salver
pleasure. All changes, one after another, flashed like light- to the two friends, with careless hands. The white arms stood
ning over every mobile feature of her face. She might capti- out in bold relief against the velvet. Proud of her beauty; proud
vate a jaded fancy, but a young man would have feared her. (who knows?) of her corruption, she stood like a queen of
She was like some colossal statue fallen from the height of a pleasure, like an incarnation of enjoyment; the enjoyment that
Greek temple, so grand when seen afar, too roughly hewn to comes of squandering the accumulations of three generations;
be seen anear. And yet, in spite of all, her terrible beauty that scoffs at its progenitors, and makes merry over a corpse;
could have stimulated exhaustion; her voice might charm that will dissolve pearls and wreck thrones, turn old men into
the deaf; her glances might put life into the bones of the boys, and make young men prematurely old; enjoyment only
dead; and therefore Emile was vaguely reminded of one of possible to giants weary of their power, tormented by reflec-
Shakespeare’s tragedies—a wonderful maze, in which joy tion, or for whom strife has become a plaything.
groans, and there is something wild even about love, and the “What is your name?” asked Raphael.
magic of forgiveness and the warmth of happiness succeed “Aquilina.”
to cruel storms of rage. She was a siren that can both kiss and “Out of Venice Preserved!” exclaimed Emile.

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 The Magic Skin
“Yes,” she answered. “Just as a pope takes a new name when blue eyes, and white transparent brows. No ingenue among
he is exalted above all other men, I, too, took another name the naiads, a truant from her river spring, could have been
when I raised myself above women’s level.” shyer, whiter, more ingenuous than this young girl, seem-
“Then have you, like your patron saint, a terrible and noble ingly about sixteen years old, ignorant of evil and of the storms
lover, a conspirator, who would die for you?” cried Emile of life, and fresh from some church in which she must have
eagerly—this gleam of poetry had aroused his interest. prayed the angels to call her to heaven before the time. Only
“Once I had,” she answered. “But I had a rival too in La in Paris are such natures as this to be found, concealing depths
Guillotine. I have worn something red about me ever since, of depravity behind a fair mask, and the most artificial vices
lest any happiness should carry me away.” beneath a brow as young and fair as an opening flower.
“Oh, if you are going to get her on to the story of those At first the angelic promise of those soft lineaments misled
four lads of La Rochelle, she will never get to the end of it. the friends. Raphael and Emile took the coffee which she
That’s enough, Aquilina. As if every woman could not be- poured into the cups brought by Aquilina, and began to talk
wail some lover or other, though not every one has the luck with her. In the eyes of the two poets she soon became trans-
to lose him on the scaffold, as you have done. I would a great formed into some sombre allegory, of I know not what as-
deal sooner see a lover of mine in a trench at the back of pect of human life. She opposed to the vigorous and ardent
Clamart than in a rival’s arms.” expression of her commanding acquaintance a revelation of
All this in the gentlest and most melodious accents, and heartless corruption and voluptuous cruelty. Heedless enough
pronounced by the prettiest, gentlest, and most innocent- to perpetrate a crime, hardy enough to feel no misgivings; a
looking little person that a fairy wand ever drew from an pitiless demon that wrings larger and kinder natures with
enchanted eggshell. She had come up noiselessly, and they torments that it is incapable of knowing, that simpers over a
became aware of a slender, dainty figure, charmingly timid traffic in love, sheds tears over a victim’s funeral, and beams

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 Balzac
with joy over the reading of the will. A poet might have ad- about with the rustle of dead leaves. Rags or the daintiest
mired the magnificent Aquilina; but the winning Euphrasia finery will be as one to us then; the ambergris of the boudoir
must be repulsive to every one—the first was the soul of sin; will breathe an odor of death and dry bones; and suppose
the second, sin without a soul in it. there is a heart there in that mud, not one of you but would
“I should dearly like to know,” Emile remarked to this pleas- make mock of it, not so much as a memory will you spare to
ing being, “if you ever reflect upon your future?” us. Is not our existence precisely the same whether we live in
“My future!” she answered with a laugh. “What do you a fine mansion with lap-dogs to tend, or sort rags in a work-
mean by my future? Why should I think about something house? Does it make much difference whether we shall hide
that does not exist as yet? I never look before or behind. Isn’t our gray heads beneath lace or a handkerchief striped with
one day at a time more than I can concern myself with as it blue and red; whether we sweep a crossing with a birch broom,
is? And besides, the future, as we know, means the hospital.” or the steps of the Tuileries with satins; whether we sit beside
“How can you forsee a future in the hospital, and make no a gilded hearth, or cower over the ashes in a red earthen pot;
effort to avert it?” whether we go to the Opera or look on in the Place de Greve?”
“What is there so alarming about the hospital?” asked the “Aquilina mia, you have never shown more sense than in
terrific Aquilina. “When we are neither wives nor mothers, this depressing fit of yours,” Euphrasia remarked. “Yes, cash-
when old age draws black stockings over our limbs, sets mere, point d’Alencon, perfumes, gold, silks, luxury, every-
wrinkles on our brows, withers up the woman in us, and thing that sparkles, everything pleasant, belongs to youth
darkens the light in our lover’s eyes, what could we need alone. Time alone may show us our folly, but good fortune
when that comes to pass? You would look on us then as mere will acquit us. You are laughing at me,” she went on, with a
human clay; we with our habiliments shall be for you like so malicious glance at the friends; “but am I not right? I would
much mud —worthless, lifeless, crumbling to pieces, going sooner die of pleasure than of illness. I am not afflicted with

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 The Magic Skin
a mania for perpetuity, nor have I a great veneration for hu- one long entertainment of my life.”
man nature, such as God has made it. Give me millions, and “But does not happiness come from the soul within?” cried
I would squander them; I should not keep one centime for Raphael.
the year to come. Live to be charming and have power, that “It may be so,” Aquilina answered; “but is it nothing to be
is the decree of my every heartbeat. Society sanctions my conscious of admiration and flattery; to triumph over other
life; does it not pay for my extravagances? Why does Provi- women, even over the most virtuous, humiliating them be-
dence pay me every morning my income, which I spend ev- fore our beauty and our splendor? Not only so; one day of
ery evening? Why are hospitals built for us? And Providence our life is worth ten years of a bourgeoise existence, and so it
did not put good and evil on either hand for us to select is all summed up.”
what tires and pains us. I should be very foolish if I did not “Is not a woman hateful without virtue?” Emile said to
amuse myself.” Raphael.
“And how about others?” asked Emile. Euphrasia’s glance was like a viper’s, as she said, with an
“Others? Oh, well, they must manage for themselves. I irony in her voice that cannot be rendered:
prefer laughing at their woes to weeping over my own. I defy “Virtue! we leave that to deformity and to ugly women.
any man to give me the slightest uneasiness.” What would the poor things be without it?”
“What have you suffered to make you think like this?” “Hush, be quiet,” Emile broke in. “Don’t talk about some-
asked Raphael. thing you have never known.”
“I myself have been forsaken for an inheritance,” she said, “That I have never known!” Euphrasia answered. “You give
striking an attitude that displayed all her charms; “and yet I yourself for life to some person you abominate; you must
had worked night and day to keep my lover! I am not to be bring up children who will neglect you, who wound your
gulled by any smile or vow, and I have set myself to make very heart, and you must say, ‘Thank you!’ for it; and these

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 Balzac
are the virtues you prescribe to woman. And that is not with you, you would hold sensible men in horror.”
enough. By way of requiting her self-denial, you must come “Brutes are put out of the question by the Code,” said the
and add to her sorrows by trying to lead her astray; and tall, sarcastic Aquilina.
though you are rebuffed, she is compromised. A nice life! “I thought you had more kindness for the army,” laughed
How far better to keep one’s freedom, to follow one’s incli- Euphrasia.
nations in love, and die young!” “How happy they are in their power of dethroning their
“Have you no fear of the price to be paid some day for all reason in this way,” Raphael exclaimed.
this?” “Happy?” asked Aquilina, with dreadful look, and a smile
“Even then,” she said, “instead of mingling pleasures and full of pity and terror. “Ah, you do not know what it is to be
troubles, my life will consist of two separate parts—a youth condemned to a life of pleasure, with your dead hidden in
of happiness is secure, and there may come a hazy, uncertain your heart … .”
old age, during which I can suffer at my leisure.” A moment’s consideration of the rooms was like a fore-
“She has never loved,” came in the deep tones of Aquilina’s taste of Milton’s Pandemonium. The faces of those still ca-
voice. “She never went a hundred leagues to drink in one pable of drinking wore a hideous blue tint, from burning
look and a denial with untold raptures. She has not hung draughts of punch. Mad dances were kept up with wild en-
her own life on a thread, nor tried to stab more than one ergy; excited laughter and outcries broke out like the explo-
man to save her sovereign lord, her king, her divinity … . sion of fireworks. The boudoir and a small adjoining room
Love, for her, meant a fascinating colonel.” were strewn like a battlefield with the insensible and inca-
“Here she is with her La Rochelle,” Euphrasia made an- pable. Wine, pleasure, and dispute had heated the atmo-
swer. “Love comes like the wind, no one knows whence. And, sphere. Wine and love, delirium and unconsciousness pos-
for that matter, if one of those brutes had once fallen in love sessed them, and were written upon all faces, upon the fur-

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 The Magic Skin
niture; were expressed by the surrounding disorder, and his master into the ante-chamber to whisper to him:
brought light films over the vision of those assembled, so “The neighbors are all at their windows, complaining of
that the air seemed full of intoxicating vapor. A glittering the racket, sir.”
dust arose, as in the luminous paths made by a ray of sun- “If noise alarms them, why don’t they lay down straw be-
light, the most bizarre forms flitted through it, grotesque fore their doors?” was Taillefer’s rejoinder.
struggles were seen athwart it. Groups of interlaced figures Raphael’s sudden burst of laughter was so unseasonable
blended with the white marbles, the noble masterpieces of and abrupt, that his friend demanded the reason of his un-
sculpture that adorned the rooms. seemly hilarity.
Though the two friends yet preserved a sort of fallacious “You will hardly understand me,” he replied. “In the first
clearness in their ideas and voices, a feeble appearance and place, I must admit that you stopped me on the Quai Voltaire
faint thrill of animation, it was yet almost impossible to dis- just as I was about to throw myself into the Seine, and you
tinguish what was real among the fantastic absurdities be- would like to know, no doubt, my motives for dying. And
fore them, or what foundation there was for the impossible when I proceed to tell you that by an almost miraculous
pictures that passed unceasingly before their weary eyes. The chance the most poetic memorials of the material world had
strangest phenomena of dreams beset them, the lowering but just then been summed up for me as a symbolical inter-
heavens, the fervid sweetness caught by faces in our visions, pretation of human wisdom; whilst at this minute the re-
and unheard-of agility under a load of chains,—all these so mains of all the intellectual treasures ravaged by us at table
vividly, that they took the pranks of the orgy about them for are comprised in these two women, the living and authentic
the freaks of some nightmare in which all movement is si- types of folly, would you be any the wiser? Our profound
lent, and cries never reach the ear. The valet de chambre apathy towards men and things supplied the half-tones in a
succeeded just then, after some little difficulty, in drawing crudely contrasted picture of two theories of life so diametri-

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cally opposed. If you were not drunk, you might perhaps man is corrupted by the exercise of his wits, and purified by
catch a gleam of philosophy in this.” ignorance. You are calling the whole fabric of society to ac-
“And if you had not both feet on that fascinating Aquilina, count. But whether we live with the wise or perish with the
whose heavy breathing suggests an analogy with the sounds fool, isn’t the result the same sooner or later? And have not
of a storm about to burst,” replied Emile, absently engaged the prime constituents of the quintessence of both systems
in the harmless amusement of winding and unwinding been before expressed in a couple of words—Carymary,
Euphrasia’s hair, “you would be ashamed of your inebriated Carymara.”
garrulity. Both your systems can be packed in a phrase, and “You make me doubt the existence of a God, for your stu-
reduced to a single idea. The mere routine of living brings a pidity is greater than His power,” said Emile. “Our beloved
stupid kind of wisdom with it, by blunting our intelligence Rabelais summed it all up in a shorter word than your
with work; and on the other hand, a life passed in the limbo ‘Carymary, Carymara’; from his Peut-etre Montaigne derived
of the abstract or in the abysses of the moral world, produces his own Que sais-je? After all, this last word of moral science
a sort of wisdom run mad. The conditions may be summed is scarcely more than the cry of Pyrrhus set betwixt good and
up in brief; we may extinguish emotion, and so live to old evil, or Buridan’s ass between the two measures of oats. But
age, or we may choose to die young as martyrs to contend- let this everlasting question alone, resolved to-day by a ‘Yes’
ing passions. And yet this decree is at variance with the tem- and a ‘No.’ What experience did you look to find by a jump
peraments with which we were endowed by the bitter jester into the Seine? Were you jealous of the hydraulic machine
who modeled all creatures.” on the Pont Notre Dame?”
“Idiot!” Raphael burst in. “Go on epitomizing yourself af- “Ah, if you but knew my history!”
ter that fashion, and you will fill volumes. If I attempted to “Pooh,” said Emile; “I did not think you could be so com-
formulate those two ideas clearly, I might as well say that monplace; that remark is hackneyed. Don’t you know that

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every one of us claims to have suffered as no other ever did?” natural history of hearts, when they are named and classified
“Ah!” Raphael sighed. in genera, sub-genera, and families; into crustaceae, fossils,
“What a mountebank art thou with thy ‘Ah’! Look here, saurians, infusoria, or whatever it is,—then, my dear fellow,
now. Does some disease of the mind or body, by contracting it will be ascertained that there are natures as tender and
your muscles, bring back of a morning the wild horses that fragile as flowers, that are broken by the slight bruises that
tear you in pieces at night, as with Damiens once upon a some stony hearts do not even feel—”
time? Were you driven to sup off your own dog in a garret, “For pity’s sake, spare me thy exordium,” said Emile, as,
uncooked and without salt? Have your children ever cried, ‘I half plaintive, half amused, he took Raphael’s hand.
am hungry’? Have you sold your mistress’ hair to hazard the
money at play? Have you ever drawn a sham bill of exchange
on a fictitious uncle at a sham address, and feared lest you
should not be in time to take it up? Come now, I am attend-
ing! If you were going to drown yourself for some woman,
or by way of a protest, or out of sheer dulness, I disown you.
Make your confession, and no lies! I don’t at all want a his-
torical memoir. And, above all things, be as concise as your
clouded intellect permits; I am as critical as a professor, and
as sleepy as a woman at her vespers.”
“You silly fool!” said Raphael. “When has not suffering
been keener for a more susceptible nature? Some day when
science has attained to a pitch that enables us to study the

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 Balzac
II first seventeen years of my life for fear of abusing a listener’s
patience. Till that time, like you and thousands of others, I
A WOMAN WITHOUT A HEART had lived my life at school or the lycee, with its imaginary
troubles and genuine happinesses, which are so pleasant to
AFTER A MOMENT’S SILENCE, Raphael said with a careless ges- look back upon. Our jaded palates still crave for that Lenten
ture: fare, so long as we have not tried it afresh. It was a pleasant
“Perhaps it is an effect of the fumes of punch—I really life, with the tasks that we thought so contemptible, but
cannot tell—this clearness of mind that enables me to com- which taught us application for all that … .”
prise my whole life in a single picture, where figures and “Let the drama begin,” said Emile, half-plaintively, half-
hues, lights, shades, and half-tones are faithfully rendered. I comically.
should not have been so surprised at this poetical play of “When I left school,” Raphael went on, with a gesture that
imagination if it were not accompanied with a sort of scorn claimed the right of speaking, “my father submitted me to a
for my past joys and sorrows. Seen from afar, my life appears strict discipline; he installed me in a room near his own study,
to contract by some mental process. That long, slow agony and I had to rise at five in the morning and be in bed by nine
of ten years’ duration can be brought to memory to-day in at night. He meant me to take my law studies seriously. I
some few phrases, in which pain is resolved into a mere idea, attended the Schools, and read with an advocate as well, but
and pleasure becomes a philosophical reflection. Instead of my lectures and work were so narrowly circumscribed by the
feeling things, I weigh and consider them—” laws of time and space, and my father required such a strict
“You are as tiresome as the explanation of an amendment,” account of my doings, at dinner, that … .”
cried Emile. “What is this to me?” asked Emile.
“Very likely,” said Raphael submissively. “I spare you the “The devil take you!” said Raphael. “How are you to enter

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into my feelings if I do not relate the facts that insensibly years old gave me so much as ten francs of my own, ten
shaped my character, made me timid, and prolonged the knavish prodigals of francs, such a hoard as I had long vainly
period of youthful simplicity? In this manner I cowered un- desired, which set me a-dreaming of unutterable felicity; yet,
der as strict a despotism as a monarch’s till I came of age. To for all that he sought to procure relaxations for me. When he
depict the tedium of my life, it will be perhaps enough to had promised me a treat beforehand, he would take me to
portray my father to you. He was tall, thin, and slight, with Les Boufoons, or to a concert or ball, where I hoped to find
a hatchet face, and pale complexion; a man of few words, a mistress … . A mistress! that meant independence. But
fidgety as an old maid, exacting as a senior clerk. His pater- bashful and timid as I was, knowing nobody, and ignorant
nal solicitude hovered over my merriment and gleeful of the dialect of drawing-rooms, I always came back as awk-
thoughts, and seemed to cover them with a leaden pall. Any ward as ever, and swelling with unsatisfied desires, to be put
effusive demonstration on my part was received by him as a in harness like a troop horse next day by my father, and to
childish absurdity. I was far more afraid of him than I had return with morning to my advocate, the Palais de Justice,
been of any of our masters at school. and the law. To have swerved from the straight course which
“I seem to see him before me at this moment. In his chest- my father had mapped out for me, would have drawn down
nut-brown frock-coat he looked like a red herring wrapped his wrath upon me; at my first delinquency, he threatened to
up in the cover of a pamphlet, and he held himself as erect as ship me off as a cabin-boy to the Antilles. A dreadful shiver
an Easter candle. But I was fond of my father, and at heart ran through me if I had ventured to spend a couple of hours
he was right enough. Perhaps we never hate severity when it in some pleasure party.
has its source in greatness of character and pure morals, and “Imagine the most wandering imagination and passionate
is skilfully tempered with kindness. My father, it is true, never temperament, the tenderest soul and most artistic nature,
left me a moment to myself, and only when I was twenty dwelling continually in the presence of the most flint-hearted,

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atrabilious, and frigid man on earth; think of me as a young stableman, and a soiled pair of gloves. I shrank into a corner
girl married to a skeleton, and you will understand the life to eat ices and watch the pretty faces at my leisure. My father
whose curious scenes can only be a hearsay tale to you; the noticed me. Actuated by some motive that I did not fathom,
plans for running away that perished at the sight of my fa- so dumfounded was I by this act of confidence, he handed
ther, the despair soothed by slumber, the dark broodings me his keys and purse to keep. Ten paces away some men
charmed away by music. I breathed my sorrows forth in were gambling. I heard the rattling of gold; I was twenty
melodies. Beethoven or Mozart would keep my confidences years old; I longed to be steeped for one whole day in the
sacred. Nowadays, I smile at recollections of the scruples follies of my time of life. It was a license of the imagination
which burdened my conscience at that epoch of innocence that would find a parallel neither in the freaks of courtesans,
and virtue. nor in the dreams of young girls. For a year past I had beheld
“If I set foot in a restaurant, I gave myself up for lost; my myself well dressed, in a carriage, with a pretty woman by
fancy led me to look on a cafe as a disreputable haunt, where my side, playing the great lord, dining at Very’s, deciding
men lost their characters and embarrassed their fortunes; as not to go back home till the morrow; but was prepared for
for engaging in play, I had not the money to risk. Oh, if I my father with a plot more intricate than the Marriage of
needed to send you to sleep, I would tell you about one of Figaro, which he could not possibly have unraveled. All this
the most frightful pleasures of my life, one of those pleasures bliss would cost, I estimated, fifty crowns. Was it not the
with fangs that bury themselves in the heart as the branding- artless idea of playing truant that still had charms for me?
iron enters the convict’s shoulder. I was at a ball at the house “I went into a small adjoining room, and when alone
of the Duc de Navarreins, my father’s cousin. But to make counted my father’s money with smarting eyes and trem-
my position the more perfectly clear, you must know that I bling fingers—a hundred crowns! The joys of my escapade
wore a threadbare coat, ill-fitting shoes, a tie fit for a rose before me at the thought of the amount; joys that flitted

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about me like Macbeth’s witches round their caldron; joys penetrate. I had my back turned on the table where my fu-
how alluring! how thrilling! how delicious! I became a delib- ture felicity lay at stake, a felicity but so much the more in-
erate rascal. I heeded neither my tingling ears nor the violent tense that it was criminal. Between me and the players stood
beating of my heart, but took out two twenty-franc pieces a wall of onlookers some five feet deep, who were chatting;
that I seem to see yet. The dates had been erased, and the murmur of voices drowned the clinking of gold, which
Bonaparte’s head simpered upon them. After I had put back mingled in the sounds sent up by this orchestra; yet, despite
the purse in my pocket, I returned to the gaming-table with all obstacles, I distinctly heard the words of the two players
the two pieces of gold in the palms of my damp hands, prowl- by a gift accorded to the passions, which enables them to
ing about the players like a sparrow-hawk round a coop of annihilate time and space. I saw the points they made; I knew
chickens. Tormented by inexpressible terror, I flung a sud- which of the two turned up the king as well as if I had actu-
den clairvoyant glance round me, and feeling quite sure that ally seen the cards; at a distance of ten paces, in short, the
I was seen by none of my acquaintance, betted on a stout, fortunes of play blanched my face.
jovial little man, heaping upon his head more prayers and “My father suddenly went by, and then I knew what the
vows than are put up during two or three storms at sea. Then, Scripture meant by ‘The Spirit of God passed before his face.’
with an intuitive scoundrelism, or Machiavelism, surprising I had won. I slipped through the crowd of men who had
in one of my age, I went and stood in the door, and looked gathered about the players with the quickness of an eel es-
about me in the rooms, though I saw nothing; for both mind caping through a broken mesh in a net. My nerves thrilled
and eyes hovered about that fateful green cloth. with joy instead of anguish. I felt like some criminal on the
“That evening fixes the date of a first observation of a physi- way to torture released by a chance meeting with the king. It
ological kind; to it I owe a kind of insight into certain mys- happened that a man with a decoration found himself short
teries of our double nature that I have since been enabled to by forty francs. Uneasy eyes suspected me; I turned pale,

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and drops of perspiration stood on my forehead, I was well keys and money to my father. As he entered his study, he
punished, I thought, for having robbed my father. Then the emptied out his purse on the mantelpiece, counted the
kind little stout man said, in a voice like an angel’s surely, ‘All money, and turned to me with a kindly look, saying with
these gentlemen have paid their stakes,’ and put down the more or less long and significant pauses between each phrase:
forty francs himself. I raised my head in triumph upon the “‘My boy, you are very nearly twenty now. I am satisfied
players. After I had returned the money I had taken from it with you. You ought to have an allowance, if only to teach you
to my father’s purse, I left my winnings with that honest and how to lay it out, and to gain some acquaintance with every-
worthy gentleman, who continued to win. As soon as I found day business. Henceforward I shall let you have a hundred
myself possessed of a hundred and sixty francs, I wrapped francs each month. Here is your first quarter’s income for this
them up in my handkerchief, so that they could neither move year,’ he added, fingering a pile of gold, as if to make sure that
or rattle on the way back; and I played no more. the amount was correct. ‘Do what you please with it.’
“‘What were you doing at the card-table?’ said my father “I confess that I was ready to fling myself at his feet, to tell
as we stepped into the carriage. him that I was a thief, a scoundrel, and, worse than all, a liar!
“‘I was looking on,’ I answered, trembling. But a feeling of shame held me back. I went up to him for an
“ ‘But it would have been nothing out of the common if embrace, but he gently pushed me away.
you had been prompted by self-love to put some money down “‘You are a man now, my child,’ he said. ‘What I have just
on the table. In the eyes of men of the world you are quite done was a very proper and simple thing, for which there is
old enough to assume the right to commit such follies. So I no need to thank me. If I have any claim to your gratitude,
should have pardoned you, Raphael, if you had made use of Raphael,’ he went on, in a kind but dignified way, ‘it is be-
my purse … .’ cause I have preserved your youth from the evils that destroy
“I did not answer. When we reached home, I returned the young men in Paris. We will be two friends henceforth. In a

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year’s time you will be a doctor of law. Not without some hard- erty to my mother, was my father’s ruin. He had formerly
ship and privations you have acquired the sound knowledge purchased several estates abroad, conferred by the Emperor
and the love of, and application to, work that is indispensable to on his generals; and now for ten years he struggled with liq-
public men. You must learn to know me, Raphael. I do not uidators, diplomatists, and Prussian and Bavarian courts of
want to make either an advocate or a notary of you, but a states- law, over the disputed possession of these unfortunate en-
man, who shall be the pride of our poor house … . Good- dowments. My father plunged me into the intricate laby-
night,’ he added. rinths of law proceedings on which our future depended.
“From that day my father took me fully into confidence. I We might be compelled to return the rents, as well as the
was an only son; and ten years before, I had lost my mother. proceeds arising from sales of timber made during the years
In time past my father, the head of a historic family remem- 1814 to 1817; in that case my mother’s property would have
bered even now in Auvergne, had come to Paris to fight barely saved our credit. So it fell out that the day on which
against his evil star, dissatisfied at the prospect of tilling the my father in a fashion emancipated me, brought me under a
soil, with his useless sword by his side. He was endowed with most galling yoke. I entered on a conflict like a battlefield; I
the shrewdness that gives the men of the south of France a must work day and night; seek interviews with statesmen,
certain ascendency when energy goes with it. Almost un- surprise their convictions, try to interest them in our affairs,
aided, he made a position for himself near the fountain of and gain them over, with their wives and servants, and their
power. The revolution brought a reverse of fortune, but he very dogs; and all this abominable business had to take the
had managed to marry an heiress of good family, and, in the form of pretty speeches and polite attentions. Then I knew
time of the Empire, appeared to be on the point of restoring the mortifications that had left their blighting traces on my
to our house its ancient splendor. father’s face. For about a year I led outwardly the life of a
“The Restoration, while it brought back considerable prop- man of the world, but enormous labors lay beneath the sur-

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 Balzac
face of gadding about, and eager efforts to attach myself to cree concerning forfeitures, and had ruined us, I authorized
influential kinsmen, or to people likely to be useful to us. My the sale of my property, only retaining an island in the middle
relaxations were lawsuits, and memorials still furnished the of the Loire where my mother was buried. Perhaps argu-
staple of my conversation. Hitherto my life had been blame- ments and evasions, philosophical, philanthropic, and po-
less, from the sheer impossibility of indulging the desires of litical considerations would not fail me now, to hinder the
youth; but now I became my own master, and in dread of perpetration of what my solicitor termed a ‘folly’; but at one-
involving us both in ruin by some piece of negligence, I did and-twenty, I repeat, we are all aglow with generosity and
not dare to allow myself any pleasure or expenditure. affection. The tears that stood in my father’s eyes were to me
“While we are young, and before the world has rubbed off the most splendid of fortunes, and the thought of those tears
the delicate bloom from our sentiments, the freshness of our has often soothed my sorrow. Ten months after he had paid
impressions, the noble purity of conscience which will never his creditors, my father died of grief; I was his idol, and he
allow us to palter with evil, the sense of duty is very strong had ruined me! The thought killed him. Towards the end of
within us, the voice of honor clamors within us, and we are the autumn of 1826, at the age of twenty-two, I was the sole
open and straightforward. At that time I was all these things. mourner at his graveside—the grave of my father and my
I wished to justify my father’s confidence in me. But lately I earliest friend. Not many young men have found themselves
would have stolen a paltry sum from him, with secret de- alone with their thoughts as they followed a hearse, or have
light; but now that I shared the burden of his affairs, of his seen themselves lost in crowded Paris, and without money
name and of his house, I would secretly have given up my or prospects. Orphans rescued by public charity have at any
fortune and my hopes for him, as I was sacrificing my plea- rate the future of the battlefield before them, and find a shel-
sures, and even have been glad of the sacrifice! So when M. ter in some institution and a father in the government or in
de Villele exhumed, for our special benefit, an imperial de- the procureur du roi. I had nothing.

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“Three months later, an agent made over to me eleven hun- an utterly false social position,” said Raphael after a pause.
dred and twelve francs, the net proceeds of the winding up of “Family ties, weak ones, it is true, bound me to a few wealthy
my father’s affairs. Our creditors had driven us to sell our fur- houses, but my own pride would have kept me aloof from
niture. From my childhood I had been used to set a high value them if contempt and indifference had not shut their doors
on the articles of luxury about us, and I could not help show- on me in the first place. I was related to people who were
ing my astonishment at the sight of this meagre balance. very influential, and who lavished their patronage on strang-
“‘Oh, rococo, all of it!’ said the auctioneer. A terrible word ers; but I found neither relations nor patrons in them. Con-
that fell like a blight on the sacred memories of my childhood, tinually circumscribed in my affections, they recoiled upon
and dispelled my earliest illusions, the dearest of all. My entire me. Unreserved and simple by nature, I must have appeared
fortune was comprised in this ‘account rendered,’ my future frigid and sophisticated. My father’s discipline had destroyed
lay in a linen bag with eleven hundred and twelve francs in it, all confidence in myself. I was shy and awkward; I could not
human society stood before me in the person of an auctioneer’s believe that my opinion carried any weight whatever; I took
clerk, who kept his hat on while he spoke. Jonathan, an old no pleasure in myself; I thought myself ugly, and was ashamed
servant who was much attached to me, and whom my mother to meet my own eyes. In spite of the inward voice that must
had formerly pensioned with an annuity of four hundred be the stay of a man with anything in him, in all his struggles,
francs, spoke to me as I was leaving the house that I had so the voice that cries, ‘Courage! Go forward!’ in spite of sud-
often gaily left for a drive in my childhood. den revelations of my own strength in my solitude; in spite
“‘Be very economical, Monsieur Raphael!’ of the hopes that thrilled me as I compared new works, that
“The good fellow was crying. the public admired so much, with the schemes that hovered
“Such were the events, dear Emile, that ruled my desti- in my brain,—in spite of all this, I had a childish mistrust of
nies, moulded my character, and set me, while still young, in myself.

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 Balzac
“An overweening ambition preyed upon me; I believed that young, witty, and gracious lady of high degree.
I was meant for great things, and yet I felt myself to be noth- “So I found the tumult of my heart, my feelings, and my
ing. I had need of other men, and I was friendless. I found I creeds all at variance with the axioms of society. I had plenty
must make my way in the world, where I was quite alone, of audacity in my character, but none in my manner. Later,
and bashful, rather than afraid. I found out that women did not like to be implored. I have
“All through the year in which, by my father’s wish, I threw from afar adored many a one to whom I devoted a soul proof
myself into the whirlpool of fashionable society, I came away against all tests, a heart to break, energy that shrank from no
with an inexperienced heart, and fresh in mind. Like every sacrifice and from no torture; they accepted fools whom I
grown child, I sighed in secret for a love affair. I met, among would not have engaged as hall porters. How often, mute
young men of my own age, a set of swaggerers who held and motionless, have I not admired the lady of my dreams,
their heads high, and talked about trifles as they seated them- swaying in the dance; given up my life in thought to one
selves without a tremor beside women who inspired awe in eternal caress, expressed all my hopes in a look, and laid be-
me. They chattered nonsense, sucked the heads of their canes, fore her, in my rapture, a young man’s love, which should
gave themselves affected airs, appropriated the fairest women, outstrip all fables. At some moments I was ready to barter
and laid, or pretended that they had laid their heads on ev- my whole life for one single night. Well, as I could never
ery pillow. Pleasure, seemingly, was at their beck and call; find a listener for my impassioned proposals, eyes to rest my
they looked on the most virtuous and prudish as an easy own upon, a heart made for my heart, I lived on in all the
prey, ready to surrender at a word, at the slightest impudent sufferings of impotent force that consumes itself; lacking ei-
gesture or insolent look. I declare, on my soul and conscience, ther opportunity or courage or experience. I despaired,
that the attainment of power, or of a great name in litera- maybe, of making myself understood, or I feared to be un-
ture, seemed to me an easier victory than a success with some derstood but too well; and yet the storm within me was ready

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to burst at every chance courteous look. In spite of my readi- even a noble and courageous Marceline, not so much as an
ness to take the semblance of interest in look or word for a old Marquise! Oh! to carry a treasure in your wallet, and not
tenderer solicitude, I dared neither to speak nor to be silent find even some child, or inquisitive young girl, to admire it!
seasonably. My words grew insignificant, and my silence stu- In my despair I often wished to kill myself.”
pid, by sheer stress of emotion. I was too ingenuous, no doubt, “Finely tragical to-night!” cried Emile.
for that artificial life, led by candle-light, where every thought “Let me pass sentence on my life,” Raphael answered. “If
is expressed in conventional phrases, or by words that fashion your friendship is not strong enough to bear with my elegy,
dictates; and not only so, I had not learned how to employ if you cannot put up with half an hour’s tedium for my sake,
speech that says nothing, and silence that says a great deal. In go to sleep! But, then, never ask again for the reason of sui-
short, I concealed the fires that consumed me, and with such cide that hangs over me, that comes nearer and calls to me,
a soul as women wish to find, with all the elevation of soul that I bow myself before. If you are to judge a man, you
that they long for, and a mettle that fools plume themselves must know his secret thoughts, sorrows, and feelings; to know
upon, all women have been cruelly treacherous to me. merely the outward events of a man’s life would only serve to
“So in my simplicity I admired the heroes of this set when make a chronological table—a fool’s notion of history.”
they bragged about their conquests, and never suspected them Emile was so much struck with the bitter tones in which
of lying. No doubt it was a mistake to wish for a love that these words were spoken, that he began to pay close atten-
springs for a word’s sake; to expect to find in the heart of a tion to Raphael, whom he watched with a bewildered ex-
vain, frivolous woman, greedy for luxury and intoxicated with pression.
vanity, the great sea of passion that surged tempestuously in “Now,” continued the speaker, “all these things that befell
my own breast. Oh! to feel that you were born to love, to me appear in a new light. The sequence of events that I once
make some woman’s happiness, and yet to find not one, not thought so unfortunate created the splendid powers of which,

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later, I became so proud. If I may believe you, I possess the wise than take my simplicity for cynicism, my innocent can-
power of readily expressing my thoughts, and I could take a dor for impudence? They found my knowledge tiresome;
forward place in the great field of knowledge; and is not this my feminine languor, weakness. I was held to be listless and
the result of scientific curiosity, of excessive application, and incapable of love or of steady purpose; a too active imagina-
a love of reading which possessed me from the age of seven tion, that curse of poets, was no doubt the cause. My silence
till my entry on life? The very neglect in which I was left, was idiotic; and as I daresay I alarmed them by my efforts to
and the consequent habits of self-repression and self-con- please, women one and all have condemned me. With tears
centration; did not these things teach me how to consider and mortification, I bowed before the decision of the world;
and reflect? Nothing in me was squandered in obedience to but my distress was not barren. I determined to revenge myself
the exactions of the world, which humble the proudest soul on society; I would dominate the feminine intellect, and so
and reduce it to a mere husk; and was it not this very fact have the feminine soul at my mercy; all eyes should be fixed
that refined the emotional part of my nature till it became upon me, when the servant at the door announced my name.
the perfected instrument of a loftier purpose than passionate I had determined from my childhood that I would be a great
desires? I remember watching the women who mistook me man; I said with Andre Chenier, as I struck my forehead,
with all the insight of contemned love. ‘There is something underneath that!’ I felt, I believed, the
“I can see now that my natural sincerity must have been thought within me that I must express, the system I must
displeasing to them; women, perhaps, even require a little establish, the knowledge I must interpret.
hypocrisy. And I, who in the same hour’s space am alter- “Let me pour out my follies, dear Emile; to-day I am barely
nately a man and a child, frivolous and thoughtful, free from twenty-six years old, certain of dying unrecognized, and I
bias and brimful of superstition, and oftentimes myself as have never been the lover of the woman I dreamed of pos-
much a woman as any of them; how should they do other- sessing. Have we not all of us, more or less, believed in the

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reality of a thing because we wished it? I would never have a “In this way, dear Emile, I ran the risk of remaining
young man for my friend who did not place himself in dreams companionless for good. The incomprehensible bent of
upon a pedestal, weave crowns for his head, and have com- women’s minds appears to lead them to see nothing but the
plaisant mistresses. I myself would often be a general, nay, weak points in a clever man, and the strong points of a fool.
emperor; I have been a Byron, and then a nobody. After this They feel the liveliest sympathy with the fool’s good quali-
sport on these pinnacles of human achievement, I became ties, which perpetually flatter their own defects; while they
aware that all the difficulties and steeps of life were yet to find the man of talent hardly agreeable enough to compen-
face. My exuberant self-esteem came to my aid; I had that sate for his shortcomings. All capacity is a sort of intermit-
intense belief in my destiny, which perhaps amounts to genius tent fever, and no woman is anxious to share in its discom-
in those who will not permit themselves to be distracted by forts only; they look to find in their lovers the wherewithal
contact with the world, as sheep that leave their wool on the to gratify their own vanity. It is themselves that they love in
briars of every thicket they pass by. I meant to cover myself us! But the artist, poor and proud, along with his endow-
with glory, and to work in silence for the mistress I hoped to ment of creative power, is furnished with an aggressive ego-
have one day. Women for me were resumed into a single type, tism! Everything about him is involved in I know not what
and this woman I looked to meet in the first that met my eyes; whirlpool of his ideas, and even his mistress must gyrate along
but in each and all I saw a queen, and as queens must make with them. How is a woman, spoilt with praise, to believe in
the first advances to their lovers, they must draw near to me— the love of a man like that? Will she go to seek him out? That
to me, so sickly, shy, and poor. For her, who should take pity sort of lover has not the leisure to sit beside a sofa and give
on me, my heart held in store such gratitude over and beyond himself up to the sentimental simperings that women are so
love, that I had worshiped her her whole life long. Later, my fond of, and on which the false and unfeeling pride them-
observations have taught me bitter truths. selves. He cannot spare the time from his work, and how can

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he afford to humble himself and go a-masquerading! I was of knowledge so wide and so imperfectly arranged and di-
ready to give my life once and for all, but I could not de- gested that it overtaxed my memory; as I had neither rela-
grade it in detail. Besides, there is something indescribably tions nor friends in the midst of this lonely and ghastly desert,
paltry in a stockbroker’s tactics, who runs on errands for some a desert of paving stones, full of animation, life, and thought,
insipid affected woman; all this disgusts an artist. Love in wherein every one is worse than inimical, indifferent to wit;
the abstract is not enough for a great man in poverty; he has I made a very natural if foolish resolve, which required such
need of its utmost devotion. The frivolous creatures who unknown impossibilities, that my spirits rose. It was as if I
spend their lives in trying on cashmeres, or make themselves had laid a wager with myself, for I was at once the player and
into clothes-pegs to hang the fashions from, exact the devo- the cards.
tion which is not theirs to give; for them, love means the “This was my plan. The eleven hundred francs must keep
pleasure of ruling and not of obeying. She who is really a life in me for three years—the time I allowed myself in which
wife, one in heart, flesh, and bone, must follow wherever he to bring to light a work which should draw attention to me,
leads, in whom her life, her strength, her pride, and happi- and make me either a name or a fortune. I exulted at the
ness are centered. Ambitious men need those Oriental women thought of living on bread and milk, like a hermit in the
whose whole thought is given to the study of their require- Thebaid, while I plunged into the world of books and ideas,
ments; for unhappiness means for them the incompatibility and so reached a lofty sphere beyond the tumult of Paris, a
of their means with their desires. But I, who took myself for sphere of silent labor where I would entomb myself like a
a man of genius, must needs feel attracted by these very she- chrysalis to await a brilliant and splendid new birth. I im-
coxcombs. So, as I cherished ideas so different from those periled my life in order to live. By reducing my requirements
generally received; as I wished to scale the heavens without a to real needs and the barest necessaries, I found that three
ladder, was possessed of wealth that could not circulate, and hundred and sixty-five francs sufficed for a year of penury;

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and, in fact, I managed to exist on that slender sum, so long A man urged on towards a fair future walks through life like
as I submitted to my own claustral discipline.” an innocent person to his death; he feels no shame about it.
“Impossible!” cried Emile. “I would not think of illness. Like Aquilina, I faced the
“I lived for nearly three years in that way,” Raphael an- hospital without terror. I had not a moment’s doubt of my
swered, with a kind of pride. “Let us reckon it out. Three health, and besides, the poor can only take to their beds to
sous for bread, two for milk, and three for cold meat, kept die. I cut my own hair till the day when an angel of love and
me from dying of hunger, and my mind in a state of peculiar kindness . . . But I do not want to anticipate the state of
lucidity. I have observed, as you know, the wonderful effects things that I shall reach later. You must simply know that I
produced by diet upon the imagination. My lodgings cost lived with one grand thought for a mistress, a dream, an
me three sous daily; I burnt three sous more in oil at night; I illusion which deceives us all more or less at first. To-day I
did my own housework, and wore flannel shirts so as to re- laugh at myself, at that self, holy perhaps and heroic, which
duce the laundress’ bill to two sous per day. The money I is now no more. I have since had a closer view of society and
spent yearly in coal, if divided up, never cost more than two the world, of our manners and customs, and seen the dan-
sous for each day. I had three years’ supply of clothing, and I gers of my innocent credulity and the superfluous nature of
only dressed when going out to some library or public lec- my fervent toil. Stores of that sort are quite useless to aspir-
ture. These expenses, all told, only amounted to eighteen ants for fame. Light should be the baggage of seekers after
sous, so two were left over for emergencies. I cannot recol- fortune!
lect, during that long period of toil, either crossing the Pont “Ambitious men spend their youth in rendering themselves
des Arts, or paying for water; I went out to fetch it every worthy of patronage; it is their great mistake. While the fool-
morning from the fountain in the Place Saint Michel, at the ish creatures are laying in stores of knowledge and energy, so
corner of the Rue de Gres. Oh, I wore my poverty proudly. that they shall not sink under the weight of responsible posts

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that recede from them, schemers come and go who are may have seemed monotonous, but I very soon found pecu-
wealthy in words and destitute in ideas, astonish the igno- liar beauties in it. Sometimes at night, streams of light through
rant, and creep into the confidence of those who have a little half-closed shutters would light up and color the dark abysses
knowledge. While the first kind study, the second march of this strange landscape. Sometimes the feeble lights of the
ahead; the one sort is modest, and the other impudent; the street lamps sent up yellow gleams through the fog, and in
man of genius is silent about his own merits, but these schem- each street dimly outlined the undulations of a crowd of roofs,
ers make a flourish of theirs, and they are bound to get on. It like billows in a motionless sea. Very occasionally, too, a face
is so strongly to the interest of men in office to believe in appeared in this gloomy waste; above the flowers in some
ready-made capacity, and in brazen-faced merit, that it is skyey garden I caught a glimpse of an old woman’s crooked
downright childish of the learned to expect material rewards. angular profile as she watered her nasturtiums; or, in a crazy
I do not seek to paraphrase the commonplace moral, the attic window, a young girl, fancying herself quite alone as
song of songs that obscure genius is for ever singing; I want she dressed herself—a view of nothing more than a fair fore-
to come, in a logical manner, by the reason of the frequent head and long tresses held above her by a pretty white arm.
successes of mediocrity. Alas! study shows us such a mother’s “I liked to see the short-lived plant-life in the gutters—
kindness that it would be a sin perhaps to ask any other re- poor weeds that a storm soon washed away. I studied the
ward of her than the pure and delightful pleasures with which mosses, with their colors revived by showers, or transformed
she sustains her children. by the sun into a brown velvet that fitfully caught the light.
“Often I remember soaking my bread in milk, as I sat by Such things as these formed my recreations —the passing
the window to take the fresh air; while my eyes wandered poetic moods of daylight, the melancholy mists, sudden
over a view of roofs—brown, gray, or red, slated or tiled, and gleams of sunlight, the silence and the magic of night, the
covered with yellow or green mosses. At first the prospect mysteries of dawn, the smoke wreaths from each chimney;

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every chance event, in fact, in my curious world became fa- bered that Jean Jacques had once lived here, and looked up
miliar to me. I came to love this prison of my own choosing. the Hotel Saint-Quentin. Its dilapidated condition awak-
This level Parisian prairie of roofs, beneath which lay popu- ened hopes of a cheap lodging, and I determined to enter.
lous abysses, suited my humor, and harmonized with my “I found myself in a room with a low ceiling; the candles,
thoughts. in classic-looking copper candle-sticks, were set in a row under
“Sudden descents into the world from the divine height of each key. The predominating cleanliness of the room made a
scientific meditation are very exhausting; and, besides, I had striking contrast to the usual state of such places. This one
apprehended perfectly the bare life of the cloister. When I was as neat as a bit of genre; there was a charming trimness
made up my mind to carry out this new plan of life, I looked about the blue coverlet, the cooking pots and furniture. The
for quarters in the most out-of-the-way parts of Paris. One mistress of the house rose and came to me. She seemed to be
evening, as I returned home to the Rue des Cordiers from about forty years of age; sorrows had left their traces on her
the Place de l’Estrapade, I saw a girl of fourteen playing with features, and weeping had dimmed her eyes. I deferentially
a battledore at the corner of the Rue de Cluny, her winsome mentioned the amount I could pay; it seemed to cause her
ways and laughter amused the neighbors. September was not no surprise; she sought out a key from the row, went up to
yet over; it was warm and fine, so that women sat chatting the attics with me, and showed me a room that looked out
before their doors as if it were a fete-day in some country on the neighboring roofs and courts; long poles with linen
town. At first I watched the charming expression of the girl’s drying on them hung out of the window.
face and her graceful attitudes, her pose fit for a painter. It “Nothing could be uglier than this garret, awaiting its
was a pretty sight. I looked about me, seeking to understand scholar, with its dingy yellow walls and odor of poverty. The
this blithe simplicity in the midst of Paris, and saw that the roofing fell in a steep slope, and the sky was visible through
street was a blind alley and but little frequented. I remem- chinks in the tiles. There was room for a bed, a table, and a

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few chairs, and beneath the highest point of the roof my soul bathed itself in the beams of an unknown light, hear-
piano could stand. Not being rich enough to furnish this kened to the awful and uncertain voice of inspiration, as
cage (that might have been one of the Piombi of Venice), the vision upon vision poured from some unknown source
poor woman had never been able to let it; and as I had saved through my throbbing brain.
from the recent sale the furniture that was in a fashion pecu- “No earthly pleasure can compare with the divine delight
liarly mine, I very soon came to terms with my landlady, and of watching the dawn of an idea in the space of abstractions
moved in on the following day. as it rises like the morning sun; an idea that, better still, at-
“For three years I lived in this airy sepulchre, and worked tains gradually like a child to puberty and man’s estate. Study
unflaggingly day and night; and so great was the pleasure lends a kind of enchantment to all our surroundings. The
that study seemed to me the fairest theme and the happiest wretched desk covered with brown leather at which I wrote,
solution of life. The tranquillity and peace that a scholar needs my piano, bed, and armchair, the odd wall-paper and furni-
is something as sweet and exhilarating as love. Unspeakable ture seemed to have for me a kind of life in them, and to be
joys are showered on us by the exertion of our mental facul- humble friends of mine and mute partakers of my destiny.
ties; the quest of ideas, and the tranquil contemplation of How often have I confided my soul to them in a glance! A
knowledge; delights indescribable, because purely intellec- warped bit of beading often met my eyes, and suggested new
tual and impalpable to our senses. So we are obliged to use developments,—a striking proof of my system, or a felici-
material terms to express the mysteries of the soul. The plea- tous word by which to render my all but inexpressible
sure of striking out in some lonely lake of clear water, with thought. By sheer contemplation of the things about me I
forests, rocks, and flowers around, and the soft stirring of discerned an expression and a character in each. If the set-
the warm breeze,—all this would give, to those who knew ting sun happened to steal in through my narrow window,
them not, a very faint idea of the exultation with which my they would take new colors, fade or shine, grow dull or gay,

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and always amaze me with some new effect. These trifling bors will complete the task begun by Mesmer, Lavater, Gall,
incidents of a solitary life, which escape those preoccupied and Bichat, and open up new paths in science.
with outward affairs, make the solace of prisoners. And what “There ends that fair life of mine, the daily sacrifice, the
was I but the captive of an idea, imprisoned in my system, unrecognized silkworm’s toil, that is, perhaps, its own sole
but sustained also by the prospect of a brilliant future? At recompense. Since attaining years of discretion, until the day
each obstacle that I overcame, I seemed to kiss the soft hands when I finished my ‘Theory,’ I observed, learned, wrote, and
of a woman with a fair face, a wealthy, well-dressed woman, read unintermittingly; my life was one long imposition, as
who should some day say softly, while she caressed my hair: schoolboys say. Though by nature effeminately attached to
“‘Poor Angel, how thou hast suffered!’ Oriental indolence, sensual in tastes, and a wooer of dreams,
“I had undertaken two great works—one a comedy that in I worked incessantly, and refused to taste any of the enjoy-
a very short time must bring me wealth and fame, and an ments of Parisian life. Though a glutton, I became abstemi-
entry into those circles whither I wished to return, to exer- ous; and loving exercise and sea voyages as I did, and haunted
cise the royal privileges of a man of genius. You all saw noth- by the wish to visit many countries, still child enough to
ing in that masterpiece but the blunder of a young man fresh play at ducks and drakes with pebbles over a pond, I led a
from college, a babyish fiasco. Your jokes clipped the wings sedentary life with a pen in my fingers. I liked talking, but I
of a throng of illusions, which have never stirred since within went to sit and mutely listen to professors who gave public
me. You, dear Emile, alone brought soothing to the deep lectures at the Bibliotheque or the Museum. I slept upon my
wounds that others had made in my heart. You alone will solitary pallet like a Benedictine brother, though woman was
admire my ‘Theory of the Will.’ I devoted most of my time my one chimera, a chimera that fled from me as I wooed it!
to that long work, for which I studied Oriental languages, In short, my life has been a cruel contradiction, a perpetual
physiology and anatomy. If I do not deceive myself, my la- cheat. After that, judge a man!

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 Balzac
“Sometimes my natural propensities broke out like a fire sions for the day; I tidied my room; I was at once master and
long smothered. I was debarred from the women whose so- servant, and played the Diogenes with incredible spirit. But
ciety I desired, stripped of everything and lodged in an artist’s afterwards, while my hostess and her daughter watched my
garret, and by a sort of mirage or calenture I was surrounded ways and behavior, scrutinized my appearance and divined
by captivating mistresses. I drove through the streets of Paris, my poverty, there could not but be some bonds between us;
lolling on the soft cushions of a fine equipage. I plunged perhaps because they were themselves so very poor. Pauline,
into dissipation, into corroding vice, I desired and possessed the charming child, whose latent and unconscious grace had,
everything, for fasting had made me light-headed like the in a manner, brought me there, did me many services that I
tempted Saint Anthony. Slumber, happily, would put an end could not well refuse. All women fallen on evil days are sis-
at last to these devastating trances; and on the morrow sci- ters; they speak a common language; they have the same
ence would beckon me, smiling, and I was faithful to her. I generosity—the generosity that possesses nothing, and so is
imagine that women reputed virtuous, must often fall a prey lavish of its affection, of its time, and of its very self.
to these insane tempests of desire and passion, which rise in “Imperceptibly Pauline took me under her protection, and
us in spite of ourselves. Such dreams have a charm of their would do things for me. No kind of objection was made by
own; they are something akin to evening gossip round the her mother, whom I even surprised mending my linen; she
winter fire, when one sets out for some voyage in China. But blushed for the charitable occupation. In spite of myself, they
what becomes of virtue during these delicious excursions, took charge of me, and I accepted their services.
when fancy overleaps all difficulties? “In order to understand the peculiar condition of my mind,
“During the first ten months of seclusion I led the life of my preoccupation with work must be remembered, the tyr-
poverty and solitude that I have described to you; I used to anny of ideas, and the instinctive repugnance that a man
steal out unobserved every morning to buy my own provi- who leads an intellectual life must ever feel for the material

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details of existence. Could I well repulse the delicate atten- be unworthy of the fair future promised by her imperial pro-
tions of Pauline, who would noiselessly bring me my frugal tectress. When Mme. Gaudin confided to me this heavy
repast, when she noticed that I had taken nothing for seven trouble that preyed upon her, she said, with sharp pain in
or eight hours? She had the tact of a woman and the inven- her voice, ‘I would give up the property and the scrap of
tiveness of a child; she would smile as she made sign to me paper that makes Gaudin a baron of the empire, and all our
that I must not see her. Ariel glided under my roof in the rights to the endowment of Wistchnau, if only Pauline could
form of a sylph who foresaw every want of mine. be brought up at Saint-Denis?’ Her words struck me; now I
“One evening Pauline told me her story with touching sim- could show my gratitude for the kindnesses expended on me
plicity. Her father had been a major in the horse grenadiers by the two women; all at once the idea of offering to finish
of the Imperial Guard. He had been taken prisoner by the Pauline’s education occurred to me; and the offer was made
Cossacks, at the passage of Beresina; and when Napoleon and accepted in the most perfect simplicity. In this way I
later on proposed an exchange, the Russian authorities made came to have some hours of recreation. Pauline had natural
search for him in Siberia in vain; he had escaped with a view aptitude; she learned so quickly, that she soon surpassed me
of reaching India, and since then Mme. Gaudin, my land- at the piano. As she became accustomed to think aloud in
lady, could hear no news of her husband. Then came the my presence, she unfolded all the sweet refinements of a heart
disasters of 1814 and 1815; and, left alone and without re- that was opening itself out to life, as some flower-cup opens
source, she had decided to let furnished lodgings in order to slowly to the sun. She listened to me, pleased and thought-
keep herself and her daughter. ful, letting her dark velvet eyes rest upon me with a half smile
“She always hoped to see her husband again. Her greatest in them; she repeated her lessons in soft and gentle tones,
trouble was about her daughter’s education; the Princess and showed childish glee when I was satisfied with her. Her
Borghese was her Pauline’s godmother; and Pauline must not mother grew more and more anxious every day to shield the

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young girl from every danger (for all the beauty promised in side. Integrity of purpose cannot, I think, fail to accompany
early life was developing in the crescent moon), and was glad integrity in money matters. To my mind, to become insol-
to see her spend whole days indoors in study. My piano was vent or to betray a woman is the same sort of thing. If you
the only one she could use, and while I was out she practised love a young girl, or allow yourself to be beloved by her, a
on it. When I came home, Pauline would be in my room, in contract is implied, and its conditions should be thoroughly
her shabby dress, but her slightest movement revealed her understood. We are free to break with the woman who sells
slender figure in its attractive grace, in spite of the coarse herself, but not with the young girl who has given herself to
materials that she wore. As with the heroine of the fable of us and does not know the extent of her sacrifice. I must have
‘Peau-d’Ane,’ a dainty foot peeped out of the clumsy shoes. married Pauline, and that would have been madness. Would
But all her wealth of girlish beauty was as lost upon me. I it not have given over that sweet girlish heart to terrible mis-
had laid commands upon myself to see a sister only in Pauline. fortunes? My poverty made its selfish voice heard, and set an
I dreaded lest I should betray her mother’s faith in me. I iron barrier between that gentle nature and mine. Besides, I
admired the lovely girl as if she had been a picture, or as the am ashamed to say, that I cannot imagine love in the midst
portrait of a dead mistress; she was at once my child and my of poverty. Perhaps this is a vitiation due to that malady of
statue. For me, another Pygmalion, the maiden with the hues mankind called civilization; but a woman in squalid poverty
of life and the living voice was to become a form of inani- would exert no fascination over me, were she attractive as
mate marble. I was very strict with her, but the more I made Homer’s Galatea, the fair Helen.
her feel my pedagogue’s severity, the more gentle and sub- “Ah, vive l’amour! But let it be in silk and cashmere, sur-
missive she grew. rounded with the luxury which so marvelously embellishes
“If a generous feeling strengthened me in my reserve and it; for is it not perhaps itself a luxury? I enjoy making havoc
self-restraint, prudent considerations were not lacking be- with an elaborate erection of scented hair; I like to crush

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flowers, to disarrange and crease a smart toilette at will. A a title, a heraldic coronet painted on window panes, or en-
bizarre attraction lies for me in burning eyes that blaze graved by a jeweler; in short, a liking for all that is adventi-
through a lace veil, like flame through cannon smoke. My tious and least woman in woman. I have scorned and rea-
way of love would be to mount by a silken ladder, in the soned with myself, but all in vain.
silence of a winter night. And what bliss to reach, all pow- “A woman of rank with her subtle smile, her high-born air,
dered with snow, a perfumed room, with hangings of painted and self-esteem captivates me. The barriers she erects be-
silk, to find a woman there, who likewise shakes away the tween herself and the world awaken my vanity, a good half
snow from her; for what other name can be found for the of love. There would be more relish for me in bliss that all
white muslin wrappings that vaguely define her, like some others envied. If my mistress does nothing that other women
angel form issuing from a cloud! And then I wish for furtive do, and neither lives nor conducts herself like them, wears a
joys, for the security of audacity. I want to see once more cloak that they cannot attain, breathes a perfume of her own,
that woman of mystery, but let it be in the throng, dazzling, then she seems to rise far above me. The further she rises
unapproachable, adored on all sides, dressed in laces and from earth, even in the earthlier aspects of love, the fairer she
ablaze with diamonds, laying her commands upon every one; becomes for me.
so exalted above us, that she inspires awe, and none dares to “Luckily for me we have had no queen in France these
pay his homage to her. twenty years, for I should have fallen in love with her. A
“She gives me a stolen glance, amid her court, a look that woman must be wealthy to acquire the manners of a prin-
exposes the unreality of all this; that resigns for me the world cess. What place had Pauline among these far-fetched
and all men in it! Truly I have scorned myself for a passion imaginings? Could she bring me the love that is death, that
for a few yards of lace, velvet, and fine lawn, and the brings every faculty into play, the nights that are paid for by
hairdresser’s feats of skill; a love of wax-lights, a carriage and life? We hardly die, I think, for an insignificant girl who

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gives herself to us; and I could never extinguish these feel- tations; the faint light from my window fell upon her and
ings and poet’s dreams within me. I was born for an inacces- was reflected back in silvery rays from her thick black hair;
sible love, and fortune has overtopped my desire. sometimes I heard her young laughter, or the rich tones of
“How often have I set satin shoes on Pauline’s tiny feet, her voice singing some canzonet that she composed without
confined her form, slender as a young poplar, in a robe of effort. And often my Pauline seemed to grow greater, as music
gauze, and thrown a loose scarf about her as I saw her tread flowed from her, and her face bore a striking resemblance to
the carpets in her mansion and led her out to her splendid the noble one that Carlo Dolci chose for the type of Italy.
carriage! In such guise I should have adored her. I endowed My cruel memory brought her back athwart the dissipations
her with all the pride she lacked, stripped her of her virtues, of my existence, like a remorse, or a symbol of purity. But let
her natural simple charm, and frank smile, in order to plunge us leave the poor child to her own fate. Whatever her troubles
her heart in our Styx of depravity that makes invulnerable, may have been, at any rate I protected her from a menacing
load her with our crimes, make of her the fantastical doll of tempest—I did not drag her down into my hell.
our drawing-rooms, the frail being who lies about in the “Until last winter I led the uneventful studious life of which
morning and comes to life again at night with the dawn of I have given you some faint picture. In the earliest days of
tapers. Pauline was fresh-hearted and affectionate—I would December 1829, I came across Rastignac, who, in spite of
have had her cold and formal. the shabby condition of my wardrobe, linked his arm in mine,
“In the last days of my frantic folly, memory brought and inquired into my affairs with a quite brotherly interest.
Pauline before me, as it brings the scenes of our childhood, Caught by his engaging manner, I gave him a brief account
and made me pause to muse over past delicious moments of my life and hopes; he began to laugh, and treated me as a
that softened my heart. I sometimes saw her, the adorable mixture of a man of genius and a fool. His Gascon accent
girl who sat quietly sewing at my table, wrapped in her medi- and knowledge of the world, the easy life his clever manage-

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ment procured for him, all produced an irresistible effect through his fortune often becomes a business speculation;
upon me. I should die an unrecognized failure in a hospital, his friends, his pleasures, patrons, and acquaintances are his
Rastignac said, and be buried in a pauper’s grave. He talked capital. Suppose a merchant runs a risk of a million, for twenty
of charlatanism. Every man of genius was a charlatan, he years he can neither sleep, eat, nor amuse himself, he is brood-
plainly showed me in that pleasant way of his that makes ing over his million, it makes him run about all over Europe;
him so fascinating. He insisted that I must be out of my he worries himself, goes to the devil in every way that man
senses, and would be my own death, if I lived on alone in the has invented. Then comes a liquidation, such as I have seen
Rue des Cordiers. According to him, I ought to go into soci- myself, which very often leaves him penniless and without a
ety, to accustom people to the sound of my name, and to rid reputation or a friend. The spendthrift, on the other hand,
myself of the simple title of ‘monsieur’ which sits but ill on a takes life as a serious game and sees his horses run. He loses
great man in his lifetime. his capital, perhaps, but he stands a chance of being nomi-
“‘Those who know no better,’ he cried, ‘call this sort of nated Receiver-General, of making a wealthy marriage, or of
business scheming, and moral people condemn it for a “dissi- an appointment of attache to a minister or ambassador; and
pated life.” We need not stop to look at what people think, he has his friends left and his name, and he never wants
but see the results. You work, you say? Very good, but noth- money. He knows the standing of everybody, and uses every
ing will ever come of that. Now, I am ready for anything and one for his own benefit. Is this logical, or am I a madman
fit for nothing. As lazy as a lobster? Very likely, but I succeed after all? Haven’t you there all the moral of the comedy that
everywhere. I go out into society, I push myself forward, the goes on every day in this world? … Your work is completed’
others make way before me; I brag and am believed; I incur he went on after a pause; ‘you are immensely clever! Well,
debts which somebody else pays! Dissipation, dear boy, is a you have only arrived at my starting-point. Now, you had
methodical policy. The life of a man who deliberately runs better look after its success yourself; it is the surest way. You

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will make allies in every clique, and secure applause before- at her house; she is the handsomest woman in Paris, and the
hand. I mean to go halves in your glory myself; I shall be the most gracious! You are not even a Hottentot; you are some-
jeweler who set the diamonds in your crown. Come here to- thing between the Hottentot and the beast … . Good-bye
morrow evening, by way of a beginning. I will introduce till to-morrow.’
you to a house where all Paris goes, all our Paris, that is—the “He swung round on his heel and made off without wait-
Paris of exquisites, millionaires, celebrities, all the folk who ing for my answer. It never occurred to him that a reasoning
talk gold like Chrysostom. When they have taken up a book, being could refuse an introduction to Foedora. How can the
that book becomes the fashion; and if it is something really fascination of a name be explained? Foedora haunted me like
good for once, they will have declared it to be a work of some evil thought, with which you seek to come to terms. A
genius without knowing it. If you have any sense, my dear voice said in me, ‘You are going to see Foedora!’ In vain I
fellow, you will ensure the success of your “Theory,” by a reasoned with that voice, saying that it lied to me; all my
better understanding of the theory of success. To-morrow arguments were defeated by the name ‘Foedora.’ Was not
evening you shall go to see that queen of the moment—the the name, and even the woman herself, the symbol of all my
beautiful Countess Foedora … .’ desires, and the object of my life?
“‘I have never heard of her … .’ “The name called up recollections of the conventional glit-
“‘You Hottentot!’ laughed Rastignac; ‘you do not know ter of the world, the upper world of Paris with its brilliant
Foedora? A great match with an income of nearly eighty thou- fetes and the tinsel of its vanities. The woman brought be-
sand livres, who has taken a fancy to nobody, or else no one fore me all the problems of passion on which my mind con-
has taken a fancy to her. A sort of feminine enigma, a half tinually ran. Perhaps it was neither the woman nor the name,
Russian Parisienne, or a half Parisian Russian. All the ro- but my own propensities, that sprang up within me and
mantic productions that never get published are brought out tempted me afresh. Here was the Countess Foedora, rich

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and loveless, proof against the temptations of Paris; was not money is always forthcoming for our caprices; we only grudge
this woman the very incarnation of my hopes and visions? I the cost of things that are useful or necessary. We recklessly
fashioned her for myself, drew her in fancy, and dreamed of fling gold to an opera-dancer, and haggle with a tradesman
her. I could not sleep that night; I became her lover; I whose hungry family must wait for the settlement of our bill.
overbrimmed a few hours with a whole lifetime—a lover’s How many men are there that wear a coat that cost a hundred
lifetime; the experience of its prolific delights burned me. francs, and carry a diamond in the head of their cane, and
“The next day I could not bear the tortures of delay; I dine for twenty-five sous for all that! It seems as though we
borrowed a novel, and spent the whole day over it, so that I could never pay enough for the pleasures of vanity.
could not possibly think nor keep account of the time till “Rastignac, punctual to his appointment, smiled at the
night. Foedora’s name echoed through me even as I read, transformation, and joked about it. On the way he gave me
but only as a distant sound; though it could be heard, it was benevolent advice as to my conduct with the countess; he
not troublesome. Fortunately, I owned a fairly creditable black described her as mean, vain, and suspicious; but though mean,
coat and a white waistcoat; of all my fortune there now re- she was ostentatious, her vanity was transparent, and her
mained abut thirty francs, which I had distributed about mistrust good-humored.
among my clothes and in my drawers, so as to erect between “‘You know I am pledged,’ he said, ‘and what I should
my whims and the spending of a five-franc piece a thorny lose, too, if I tried a change in love. So my observation of
barrier of search, and an adventurous peregrination round Foedora has been quite cool and disinterested, and my re-
my room. While I as dressing, I dived about for my money marks must have some truth in them. I was looking to your
in an ocean of papers. This scarcity of specie will give you future when I thought of introducing you to her; so mind
some idea of the value of that squandered upon gloves and very carefully what I am about to say. She has a terrible
cab-hire; a month’s bread disappeared at one fell swoop. Alas! memory. She is clever enough to drive a diplomatist wild;

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she would know it at once if he spoke the truth. Between infatuatedly bourgeois; I forgot my origin and all my per-
ourselves, I fancy that her marriage was not recognized by sonal and family pride. Alas! I had but just left a garret, after
the Emperor, for the Russian ambassador began to smile when three years of poverty, and I could not just then set the trea-
I spoke of her; he does not receive her either, and only bows sures there acquired above such trifles as these. Nor could I
very coolly if he meets her in the Bois. For all that, she is in rightly estimate the worth of the vast intellectual capital which
Madame de Serizy’s set, and visits Mesdames de Nucingen turns to riches at the moment when opportunity comes
and de Restaud. There is no cloud over her here in France; within our reach, opportunity that does not overwhelm, be-
the Duchesse de Carigliano, the most-strait-laced marechale cause study has prepared us for the struggles of public life.
in the whole Bonapartist coterie, often goes to spend the sum- “I found a woman of about twenty-two years of age; she
mer with her at her country house. Plenty of young fops, sons was of average height, was dressed in white, and held a feather
of peers of France, have offered her a title in exchange for her fire-screen in her hand; a group of men stood around her.
fortune, and she has politely declined them all. Her suscepti- She rose at the sight of Rastignac, and came towards us with
bilities, maybe, are not to be touched by anything less than a a gracious smile and a musically-uttered compliment, pre-
count. Aren’t you a marquis? Go ahead if you fancy her. This pared no doubt beforehand, for me. Our friend had spoken
is what you may call receiving your instructions.’ of me as a rising man, and his clever way of making the most
“His raillery made me think that Rastignac wished to joke of me had procured me this flattering reception. I was con-
and excite my curiosity, so that I was in a paroxysm of my fused by the attention that every one paid to me; but
extemporized passion by the time that we stopped before a Rastignac had luckily mentioned my modesty. I was brought
peristyle full of flowers. My heart beat and my color rose as in contact with scholars, men of letters, ex-ministers, and
we went up the great carpeted staircase, and I noticed about peers of France. The conversation, interrupted a while by
me all the studied refinements of English comfort; I was my coming, was resumed. I took courage, feeling that I had

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a reputation to maintain, and without abusing my privilege, the windows with their rich colored glass. I was surprised by
I spoke when it fell to me to speak, trying to state the ques- the extensive knowledge of decoration that some artist had
tions at issue in words more or less profound, witty or tren- brought to bear on a little modern room, it was so pleasant
chant, and I made a certain sensation. Rastignac was a prophet and fresh, and not heavy, but subdued with its dead gold
for the thousandth time in his life. As soon as the gathering hues. It had all the vague sentiment of a German ballad; it
was large enough to restore freedom to individuals, he took was a retreat fit for some romance of 1827, perfumed by the
my arm, and we went round the rooms. exotic flowers set in their stands. Another apartment in the
“‘Don’t look as if you were too much struck by the prin- suite was a gilded reproduction of the Louis Quatorze pe-
cess,’ he said, ‘or she will guess your object in coming to visit riod, with modern paintings on the walls in odd but pleas-
her.’ ant contrast.
“The rooms were furnished in excellent taste. Each apart- “‘You would not be so badly lodged,’ was Rastignac’s slightly
ment had a character of its own, as in wealthy English houses; sarcastic comment. ‘It is captivating, isn’t it?’ he added, smil-
and the silken hangings, the style of the furniture, and the ing as he sat down. Then suddenly he rose, and led me by
ornaments, even the most trifling, were all subordinated to the hand into a bedroom, where the softened light fell upon
the original idea. In a gothic boudoir the doors were con- the bed under its canopy of muslin and white watered silk—
cealed by tapestried curtains, and the paneling by hangings; a couch for a young fairy betrothed to one of the genii.
the clock and the pattern of the carpet were made to harmo- “‘Isn’t it wantonly bad taste, insolent and unbounded co-
nize with the gothic surroundings. The ceiling, with its carved quetry,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘that allows us to see this
cross-beams of brown wood, was full of charm and original- throne of love? She gives herself to no one, and anybody
ity; the panels were beautifully wrought; nothing disturbed may leave his card here. If I were not committed, I should
the general harmony of the scheme of decoration, not even like to see her at my feet all tears and submission.’

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“‘Are you so certain of her virtue?’ roused her curiosity by drawing her attention to an everyday
“‘The boldest and even the cleverest adventurers among matter—to sleep, a thing so apparently commonplace, that
us, acknowledge themselves defeated, and continue to be her in reality is an insoluble problem for science. The countess
lovers and devoted friends. Isn’t that woman a puzzle?’ sat in silence for a moment when I told her that our ideas
“His words seemed to intoxicate me; I had jealous fears were complete organic beings, existing in an invisible world,
already of the past. I leapt for joy, and hurried back to the and influencing our destinies; and for witnesses I cited the
countess, whom I had seen in the gothic boudoir. She stopped opinions of Descartes, Diderot, and Napoleon, who had di-
me by a smile, made me sit beside her, and talked about my rected, and still directed, all the currents of the age.
work, seeming to take the greatest interest in it, and all the “So I had the honor of amusing this woman; who asked
more when I set forth my theories amusingly, instead of me to come to see her when she left me; giving me les grande
adopting the formal language of a professor for their expla- entrees, in the language of the court. Whether it was by dint
nation. It seemed to divert her to be told that the human of substituting polite formulas for genuine expressions of
will was a material force like steam; that in the moral world feeling, a commendable habit of mine, or because Foedora
nothing could resist its power if a man taught himself to hailed in me a coming celebrity, an addition to her learned
concentrate it, to economize it, and to project continually menagerie; for some reason I thought that I had pleased her.
its fluid mass in given directions upon other souls. Such a I called all my previous physiological studies and knowledge
man, I said, could modify all things relatively to man, even of woman to my aid, and minutely scrutinized this singular
the peremptory laws of nature. The questions Foedora raised person and her ways all evening. I concealed myself in the
showed a certain keenness of intellect. I took a pleasure in embrasure of a window, and sought to discover her thoughts
deciding some of them in her favor, in order to flatter her; from her bearing. I studied the tactics of the mistress of the
then I confuted her feminine reasoning with a word, and house, as she came and went, sat and chatted, beckoned to

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this one or that, asked questions, listened to the answers, as on those Italian eyelids, on the splendid shoulders worthy of
she leaned against the frame of the door; I detected a lan- the Venus of Milo, on her features, in the darker shade of
guid charm in her movements, a grace in the flutterings of down above a somewhat thick under-lip. She was not merely
her dress, remarked the nature of the feelings she so power- a woman, but a romance. The whole blended harmony of
fully excited, and became very incredulous as to her virtue. lines, the feminine luxuriance of her frame, and its passion-
If Foedora would none of love to-day, she had had strong ate promise, were subdued by a constant inexplicable reserve
passions at some time; past experience of pleasure showed and modesty at variance with everything else about her. It
itself in the attitudes she chose in conversation, in her co- needed an observation as keen as my own to detect such
quettish way of leaning against the panel behind her; she signs as these in her character. To explain myself more clearly;
seemed scarcely able to stand alone, and yet ready for flight there were two women in Foedora, divided perhaps by the
from too bold a glance. There was a kind of eloquence about line between head and body: the one, the head alone, seemed
her lightly folded arms, which, even for benevolent eyes, to be susceptible, and the other phlegmatic. She prepared
breathed sentiment. Her fresh red lips sharply contrasted with her glance before she looked at you, something unspeakably
her brilliantly pale complexion. Her brown hair brought out mysterious, some inward convulsion seemed revealed by her
all the golden color in her eyes, in which blue streaks mingled glittering eyes.
as in Florentine marble; their expression seemed to increase “So, to be brief, either my imperfect moral science had left
the significance of her words. A studied grace lay in the me a good deal to learn in the moral world, or a lofty soul
charms of her bodice. Perhaps a rival might have found the dwelt in the countess, lent to her face those charms that fas-
lines of the thick eyebrows, which almost met, a little hard; cinated and subdued us, and gave her an ascendency only
or found a fault in the almost invisible down that covered the more complete because it comprehended a sympathy of
her features. I saw the signs of passion everywhere, written desire.

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“I went away completely enraptured with this woman, tween us! Only a poor man knows what such a passion costs
dazzled by the luxury around her, gratified in every faculty in cab-hire, gloves, linen, tailor’s bills, and the like. If the
of my soul—noble and base, good and evil. When I felt myself Platonic stage lasts a little too long, the affair grows ruinous.
so excited, eager, and elated, I thought I understood the at- As a matter of fact, there is many a Lauzun among students
traction that drew thither those artists, diplomatists, men in of law, who finds it impossible to approach a ladylove living
office, those stock-jobbers encased in triple brass. They came, on a first floor. And I, sickly, thin, poorly dressed, wan and
no doubt, to find in her society the delirious emotion that pale as any artist convalescent after a work, how could I com-
now thrilled through every fibre in me, throbbing through pete with other young men, curled, handsome, smart,
my brain, setting the blood a-tingle in every vein, fretting outcravatting Croatia; wealthy men, equipped with tilburys,
even the tiniest nerve. And she had given herself to none, so and armed with assurance?
as to keep them all. A woman is a coquette so long as she “‘Bah, death or Foedora!’ I cried, as I went round by a
knows not love. bridge; ‘my fortune lies in Foedora.’
“‘Well,’ I said to Rastignac, ‘they married her, or sold her “That gothic boudoir and Louis Quatorze salon came be-
perhaps, to some old man, and recollections of her first mar- fore my eyes. I saw the countess again in her white dress
riage have caused her aversion for love.’ with its large graceful sleeves, and all the fascinations of her
“I walked home from the Faubourg St. Honore, where form and movements. These pictures of Foedora and her
Foedora lived. Almost all the breadth of Paris lies between luxurious surroundings haunted me even in my bare, cold
her mansion and the Rue des Cordiers, but the distance garret, when at last I reached it, as disheveled as any naturalist’s
seemed short, in spite of the cold. And I was to lay siege to wig. The contrast suggested evil counsel; in such a way crimes
Foedora’s heart, in winter, and a bitter winter, with only thirty are conceived. I cursed my honest, self-respecting poverty,
francs in my possession, and such a distance as that lay be- my garret where such teeming fancies had stirred within me.

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I trembled with fury, I reproached God, the devil, social con- whose room perhaps I was lodging; nor among the feeble
ditions, my own father, the whole universe, indeed, with my inventions of two centuries of our literature, nor in any pic-
fate and my misfortunes. I went hungry to bed, muttering ture that Italy has produced, a representation of the feelings
ludicrous imprecations, but fully determined to win Foedora. that expanded all at once in my double nature. The view of
Her heart was my last ticket in the lottery, my fortune de- the lake of Bienne, some music of Rossini’s, the Madonna of
pended upon it. Murillo’s now in the possession of General Soult, Lescombat’s
“I spare you the history of my earlier visits, to reach the letters, a few sayings scattered through collections of anec-
drama the sooner. In my efforts to appeal to her, I essayed to dotes; but most of all the prayers of religious ecstatics, and
engage her intellect and her vanity on my side; in order to passages in our fabliaux,—these things alone have power to
secure her love, I gave her any quantity of reasons for in- carry me back to the divine heights of my first love.
creasing her self-esteem; I never left her in a state of indiffer- “Nothing expressed in human language, no thought re-
ence; women like emotions at any cost, I gave them to her in producible in color, marble, sound, or articulate speech, could
plenty; I would rather have had her angry with me than in- ever render the force, the truth, the completeness, the sud-
different. denness with which love awoke in me. To speak of art, is to
“At first, urged by a strong will and a desire for her love, I speak of illusion. Love passes through endless transforma-
assumed a little authority, but my own feelings grew stron- tions before it passes for ever into our existence and makes it
ger and mastered me; I relapsed into truth, I lost my head, glow with its own color of flame. The process is impercep-
and fell desperately in love. tible, and baffles the artist’s analysis. Its moans and com-
“I am not very sure what we mean by the word love in our plaints are tedious to an uninterested spectator. One would
poetry and our talk; but I know that I have never found in need to be very much in love to share the furious transports
all the ready rhetorical phrases of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in of Lovelace, as one reads Clarissa Harlowe. Love is like some

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fresh spring, that leaves its cresses, its gravel bed and flowers seemed to caress her as she mingled in it; rather it seemed
to become first a stream and then a river, changing its aspect that the light of her eyes was brighter than the daylight it-
and its nature as it flows to plunge itself in some boundless self; or some shadow passing over that fair face made a kind
ocean, where restricted natures only find monotony, but of change there, altering its hues and its expression. Some
where great souls are engulfed in endless contemplation. thought would often seem to glow on her white brows; her
“How can I dare to describe the hues of fleeting emotions, eyes appeared to dilate, and her eyelids trembled; a smile
the nothings beyond all price, the spoken accents that beg- rippled over her features; the living coral of her lips grew full
gar language, the looks that hold more than all the wealth of of meaning as they closed and unclosed; an indistinguish-
poetry? Not one of the mysterious scenes that draw us insen- able something in her hair made brown shadows on her fair
sibly nearer and nearer to a woman, but has depths in it temples; in each new phase Foedora spoke. Every slight varia-
which can swallow up all the poetry that ever was written. tion in her beauty made a new pleasure for my eyes, dis-
How can the inner life and mystery that stirs in our souls closed charms my heart had never known before; I tried to
penetrate through our glozes, when we have not even words read a separate emotion or a hope in every change that passed
to describe the visible and outward mysteries of beauty? What over her face. This mute converse passed between soul and
enchantment steeped me for how many hours in unspeak- soul, like sound and answering echo; and the short-lived
able rapture, filled with the sight of Her! What made me delights then showered upon me have left indelible impres-
happy? I know not. That face of hers overflowed with light sions behind. Her voice would cause a frenzy in me that I
at such times; it seemed in some way to glow with it; the could hardly understand. I could have copied the example
outlines of her face, with the scarcely perceptible down on of some prince of Lorraine, and held a live coal in the hollow
its delicate surface, shone with a beauty belonging to the far of my hand, if her fingers passed caressingly through my
distant horizon that melts into the sunlight. The light of day hair the while. I felt no longer mere admiration and desire: I

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was under the spell; I had met my destiny. When back again went through me. A voice told me, ‘She is here!’ I looked
under my own roof, I still vaguely saw Foedora in her own round, and saw the countess hidden in the shadow at the
home, and had some indefinable share in her life; if she felt back of her box in the first tier. My look did not waver; my
ill, I suffered too. The next day I used to say to her: eyes saw her at once with incredible clearness; my soul hov-
“‘You were not well yesterday.’ ered about her life like an insect above its flower. How had
“How often has she not stood before me, called by the my senses received this warning? There is something in these
power of ecstasy, in the silence of the night! Sometimes she inward tremors that shallow people find astonishing, but the
would break in upon me like a ray of light, make me drop phenomena of our inner consciousness are produced as simple
my pen, and put science and study to flight in grief and as those of external vision; so I was not surprised, but much
alarm, as she compelled my admiration by the alluring pose vexed. My studies of our mental faculties, so little under-
I had seen but a short time before. Sometimes I went to seek stood, helped me at any rate to find in my own excitement
her in the spirit world, and would bow down to her as to a some living proofs of my theories. There was something ex-
hope, entreating her to let me hear the silver sounds of her ceedingly odd in this combination of lover and man of sci-
voice, and I would wake at length in tears. ence, of downright idolatry of a woman with the love of
“Once, when she had promised to go to the theatre with knowledge. The causes of the lover’s despair were highly in-
me, she took it suddenly into her head to refuse to go out, teresting to the man of science; and the exultant lover, on
and begged me to leave her alone. I was in such despair over the other hand, put science far away from him in his joy.
the perversity which cost me a day’s work, and (if I must Foedora saw me, and grew grave: I annoyed her. I went to
confess it) my last shilling as well, that I went alone where her box during the first interval, and finding her alone, I
she was to have been, desiring to see the play she had wished stayed there. Although we had not spoken of love, I foresaw
to see. I had scarcely seated myself when an electric shock an explanation. I had not told her my secret, still there was a

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kind of understanding between us. She used to tell me her ing at the carriage-door for his tip. I would have given ten
plans for amusement, and on the previous evening had asked years of life just then for a couple of halfpence, but I had not
with friendly eagerness if I meant to call the next day. After a penny. All the man in me and all my vainest susceptibili-
any witticism of hers, she would give me an inquiring glance, ties were wrung with an infernal pain. The words, ‘I haven’t
as if she had sought to please me alone by it. She would a penny about me, my good fellow!’ came from me in the
soothe me if I was vexed; and if she pouted, I had in some hard voice of thwarted passion; and yet I was that man’s
sort a right to ask an explanation. Before she would pardon brother in misfortune, as I knew too well; and once I had so
any blunder, she would keep me a suppliant for long. All lightly paid away seven hundred thousand francs! The foot-
these things that we so relished, were so many lovers’ quar- man pushed the man aside, and the horses sprang forward.
rels. What arch grace she threw into it all! and what happi- As we returned, Foedora, in real or feigned abstraction, an-
ness it was to me! swered all my questions curtly and by monosyllables. I said
“But now we stood before each other as strangers, with the no more; it was a hateful moment. When we reached her
close relation between us both suspended. The countess was house, we seated ourselves by the hearth, and when the ser-
glacial: a presentiment of trouble filled me. vant had stirred the fire and left us alone, the countess turned
“‘Will you come home with me?’ she said, when the play to me with an inexplicable expression, and spoke. Her man-
was over. ner was almost solemn.
“There had been a sudden change in the weather, and sleet “‘Since my return to France, more than one young man,
was falling in showers as we went out. Foedora’s carriage was tempted by my money, has made proposals to me which
unable to reach the doorway of the theatre. At the sight of a would have satisfied my pride. I have come across men, too,
well-dressed woman about to cross the street, a whose attachment was so deep and sincere that they might
commissionaire held an umbrella above us, and stood wait- have married me even if they had found me the penniless

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girl I used to be. Besides these, Monsieur de Valentin, you there are women who take pleasure in piercing hearts, and
must know that new titles and newly-acquired wealth have deliberately plunge the dagger back again into the wound;
been also offered to me, and that I have never received again such women as these cannot but be worshiped, for such
any of those who were so ill-advised as to mention love to women either love or would fain be loved. A day comes when
me. If my regard for you was but slight, I would not give you they make amends for all the pain they gave us; they repay
this warning, which is dictated by friendship rather than by us for the pangs, the keenness of which they recognize, in
pride. A woman lays herself open to a rebuff of some kind, if joys a hundred-fold, even as God, they tell us, recompenses
she imagines herself to be loved, and declines, before it is our good works. Does not their perversity spring from the
uttered, to listen to language which in its nature implies a strength of their feelings? But to be so tortured by a woman,
compliment. I am well acquainted with the parts played by who slaughters you with indifference! was not the suffering
Arsinoe and Araminta, and with the sort of answer I might hideous?
look for under such circumstances; but I hope to-day that I “Foedora did not know it, but in that minute she trampled
shall not find myself misconstrued by a man of no ordinary all my hopes beneath her feet; she maimed my life and she
character, because I have frankly spoken my mind.’ blighted my future with the cool indifference and uncon-
“She spoke with the cool self-possession of some attorney scious barbarity of an inquisitive child who plucks its wings
or solicitor explaining the nature of a contract or the con- from a butterfly.
duct of a lawsuit to a client. There was not the least sign of “‘Later on,’ resumed Foedora, ‘you will learn, I hope, the
feeling in the clear soft tones of her voice. Her steady face stability of the affection that I keep for my friends. You will
and dignified bearing seemed to me now full of diplomatic always find that I have devotion and kindness for them. I
reserve and coldness. She had planned this scene, no doubt, would give my life to serve my friends; but you could only
and carefully chosen her words beforehand. Oh, my friend, despise me, if I allowed them to make love to me without

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return. That is enough. You are the only man to whom I will and submitting to a superiority, though only of conven-
have spoken such words as these last.’ tion, which displeases you? You would seem to me a thou-
“At first I could not speak, or master the tempest that arose sand times fairer for it. Can love formerly have brought you
within me; but I soon repressed my emotions in the depths suffering? You probably set some value on your dainty figure
of my soul, and began to smile. and graceful appearance, and may perhaps wish to avoid the
“‘If I own that I love you,’ I said, ‘you will banish me at disfigurements of maternity. Is not this one of your strongest
once; if I plead guilty to indifference, you will make me suf- reasons for refusing a too importunate love? Some natural
fer for it. Women, magistrates, and priests never quite lay defect perhaps makes you insusceptible in spite of yourself?
the gown aside. Silence is non-committal; be pleased then, Do not be angry; my study, my inquiry is absolutely dispas-
madame, to approve my silence. You must have feared, in sionate. Some are born blind, and nature may easily have
some degree, to lose me, or I should not have received this formed women who in like manner are blind, deaf, and dumb
friendly admonition; and with that thought my pride ought to love. You are really an interesting subject for medical in-
to be satisfied. Let us banish all personal considerations. You vestigation. You do not know your value. You feel perhaps a
are perhaps the only woman with whom I could discuss ra- very legitimate distaste for mankind; in that I quite concur
tionally a resolution so contrary to the laws of nature. Con- —to me they all seem ugly and detestable. And you are right,’
sidered with regard to your species, you are a prodigy. Now I added, feeling my heart swell within me; ‘how can you do
let us investigate, in good faith, the causes of this psycho- otherwise than despise us? There is not a man living who is
logical anomaly. Does there exist in you, as in many women, worthy of you.’
a certain pride in self, a love of your own loveliness, a refine- “I will not repeat all the biting words with which I ridi-
ment of egoism which makes you shudder at the idea of be- culed her. In vain; my bitterest sarcasms and keenest irony
longing to another; is it the thought of resigning your own never made her wince nor elicited a sign of vexation. She

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heard me, with the customary smile upon her lips and in her us was made plain; we could never understand each other.
eyes, the smile that she wore as a part of her clothing, and “‘Good-bye,’ I said proudly.
that never varied for friends, for mere acquaintances, or for “‘Good-bye, till to-morrow,’ she answered, with a little
strangers. friendly bow.
“‘Isn’t it very nice of me to allow you to dissect me like “For a moment’s space I hurled at her in a glance all the
this?’ she said at last, as I came to a temporary standstill, and love I must forego; she stood there with than banal smile of
looked at her in silence. ‘You see,’ she went on, laughing, hers, the detestable chill smile of a marble statue, with none
‘that I have no foolish over-sensitiveness about my friend- of the warmth in it that it seemed to express. Can you form
ship. Many a woman would shut her door on you by way of any idea, my friend, of the pain that overcame me on the
punishing you for your impertinence.’ way home through rain and snow, across a league of icy-
“‘You could banish me without needing to give me the sheeted quays, without a hope left? Oh, to think that she not
reasons for your harshness.’ As I spoke I felt that I could kill only had not guessed my poverty, but believed me to be as
her if she dismissed me. wealthy as she was, and likewise borne as softly over the rough
“‘You are mad,’ she said, smiling still. ways of life! What failure and deceit! It was no mere ques-
“‘Did you never think,’ I went on, ‘of the effects of pas- tion of money now, but of the fate of all that lay within me.
sionate love? A desperate man has often murdered his mis- “I went at haphazard, going over the words of our strange
tress.’ conversation with myself. I got so thoroughly lost in my re-
“‘It is better to die than to live in misery,’ she said coolly. flections that I ended by doubts as to the actual value of
‘Such a man as that would run through his wife’s money, words and ideas. But I loved her all the same; I loved this
desert her, and leave her at last in utter wretchedness.’ woman with the untouched heart that might surrender at
“This calm calculation dumfounded me. The gulf between any moment—a woman who daily disappointed the expec-

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tations of the previous evening, by appearing as a new mis- and go without food was the least of it! I must traverse the
tress on the morrow. streets of Paris without getting splashed, run to escape show-
“As I passed under the gateway of the Institute, a fevered ers, and reach her rooms at last, as neat and spruce as any of
thrill ran through me. I remembered that I was fasting, and the coxcombs about her. For a poet and a distracted wooer
that I had not a penny. To complete the measure of my mis- the difficulties of this task were endless. My happiness, the
fortune, my hat was spoiled by the rain. How was I to ap- course of my love, might be affected by a speck of mud upon
pear in the drawing-room of a woman of fashion with an my only white waistcoat! Oh, to miss the sight of her be-
unpresentable hat? I had always cursed the inane and stupid cause I was wet through and bedraggled, and had not so
custom that compels us to exhibit the lining of our hats, and much as five sous to give to a shoeblack for removing the
to keep them always in our hands, but with anxious care I least little spot of mud from my boot! The petty pangs of
had so far kept mine in a precarious state of efficiency. It had these nameless torments, which an irritable man finds so
been neither strikingly new, nor utterly shabby, neither great, only strengthened my passion.
napless nor over-glossy, and might have passed for the hat of “The unfortunate must make sacrifices which they may
a frugally given owner, but its artificially prolonged exist- not mention to women who lead refined and luxurious lives.
ence had now reached the final stage, it was crumpled, for- Such women see things through a prism that gilds all men
lorn, and completely ruined, a downright rag, a fitting em- and their surroundings. Egoism leads them to take cheerful
blem of its master. My painfully preserved elegance must views, and fashion makes them cruel; they do not wish to
collapse for want of thirty sous. reflect, lest they lose their happiness, and the absorbing na-
“What unrecognized sacrifices I had made in the past three ture of their pleasures absolves their indifference to the mis-
months for Foedora! How often I had given the price of a fortunes of others. A penny never means millions to them;
week’s sustenance to see her for a moment! To leave my work millions, on the contrary, seem a mere trifle. Perhaps love

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must plead his cause by great sacrifices, but a veil must be drawn from it an augury of my future, but there is no limit
lightly drawn across them, they must go down into silence. to the possibilities of misfortune. The door of my lodging-
So when wealthy men pour out their devotion, their for- house stood ajar. A light streamed from the heart-shaped
tunes, and their lives, they gain somewhat by these com- opening cut in the shutters. Pauline and her mother were
monly entertained opinions, an additional lustre hangs about sitting up for me and talking. I heard my name spoken, and
their lovers’ follies; their silence is eloquent; there is a grace listened.
about the drawn veil; but my terrible distress bound me over “‘Raphael is much nicer-looking than the student in num-
to suffer fearfully or ever I might speak of my love or of ber seven,’ said Pauline; ‘his fair hair is such a pretty color.
dying for her sake. Don’t you think there is something in his voice, too, I don’t
“Was it a sacrifice after all? Was I not richly rewarded by know what it is, that gives you a sort of a thrill? And, then,
the joy I took in sacrificing everything to her? There was no though he may be a little proud, he is very kind, and he has
commonest event of my daily life to which the countess had such fine manners; I am sure that all the ladies must be quite
not given importance, had not overfilled with happiness. I wild about him.’
had been hitherto careless of my clothes, now I respected my “‘You might be fond of him yourself, to hear you talk,’ was
coat as if it had been a second self. I should not have hesi- Madame Gaudin’s comment.
tated between bodily harm and a tear in that garment. You “‘He is just as dear to me as a brother,’ she laughed. ‘I
must enter wholly into my circumstances to understand the should be finely ungrateful if I felt no friendship for him.
stormy thoughts, the gathering frenzy, that shook me as I Didn’t he teach me music and drawing and grammar, and
went, and which, perhaps, were increased by my walk. I everything I know in fact? You don’t much notice how I get
gloated in an infernal fashion which I cannot describe over on, dear mother; but I shall know enough, in a while, to give
the absolute completeness of my wretchedness. I would have lessons myself, and then we can keep a servant.’

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“I stole away softly, made some noise outside, and went continuous toil could only spring from devout submission
into their room to take the lamp, that Pauline tried to light and the lofty feelings that it brings.
for me. The dear child had just poured soothing balm into “There was an indescribable harmony between them and
my wounds. Her outspoken admiration had given me fresh their possessions. The splendor of Foedora’s home did not
courage. I so needed to believe in myself and to come by a satisfy; it called out all my worst instincts; something in this
just estimate of my advantages. This revival of hope in me lowly poverty and unfeigned goodness revived me. It may
perhaps colored my surroundings. Perhaps also I had never have been that luxury abased me in my own eyes, while here
before really looked at the picture that so often met my eyes, my self-respect was restored to me, as I sought to extend the
of the two women in their room; it was a scene such as Flem- protection that a man is so eager to make felt, over these two
ish painters have reproduced so faithfully for us, that I ad- women, who in the bare simplicity of the existence in their
mired in its delightful reality. The mother, with the kind brown room seemed to live wholly in the feelings of their
smile upon her lips, sat knitting stockings by the dying fire; hearts. As I came up to Pauline, she looked at me in an al-
Pauline was painting hand-screens, her brushes and paints, most motherly way; her hands shook a little as she held the
strewn over the tiny table, made bright spots of color for the lamp, so that the light fell on me and cried:
eye to dwell on. When she had left her seat and stood light- “‘Dieu! how pale you are! and you are wet through! My
ing my lamp, one must have been under the yoke of a ter- mother will try to wipe you dry. Monsieur Raphael,’ she went
rible passion indeed, not to admire her faintly flushed trans- on, after a little pause, ‘you are so very fond of milk, and to-
parent hands, the girlish charm of her attitude, the ideal grace night we happen to have some cream. Here, will you not
of her head, as the lamplight fell full on her pale face. Night take some?’
and silence added to the charms of this industrious vigil and “She pounced like a kitten, on a china bowl full of milk.
peaceful interior. The light-heartedness that sustained such She did it so quickly, and put it before me so prettily, that I

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hesitated. “‘My piano is one of Erard’s best instruments; and you
“‘You are going to refuse me?’ she said, and her tones must take it. Pray accept it without hesitation; I really could
changed. not take it with me on the journey I am about to make.’
“The pride in each felt for the other’s pride. It was Pauline’s “Perhaps the melancholy tones in which I spoke enlight-
poverty that seemed to humiliate her, and to reproach me ened the two women, for they seemed to understand, and
with my want of consideration, and I melted at once and eyed me with curiosity and alarm. Here was the affection that
accepted the cream that might have been meant for her I had looked for in the glacial regions of the great world, true
morning’s breakfast. The poor child tried not to show her affection, unostentatious but tender, and possibly lasting.
joy, but her eyes sparkled. “‘Don’t take it to heart so,’ the mother said; ‘stay on here.
“‘I needed it badly,’ I said as I sat down. (An anxious look My husband is on his way towards us even now,’ she went
passed over her face.) ‘Do you remember that passage, on. ‘I looked into the Gospel of St. John this evening while
Pauline, where Bossuet tells how God gave more abundant Pauline hung our door-key in a Bible from her fingers. The
reward for a cup of cold water than for a victory?’ key turned; that means that Gaudin is in health and doing
“‘Yes,’ she said, her heart beating like some wild bird’s in a well. Pauline began again for you and for the young man in
child’s hands. number seven—it turned for you, but not for him. We are
“‘Well, as we shall part very soon, now,’ I went on in an all going to be rich. Gaudin will come back a millionaire. I
unsteady voice, ‘you must let me show my gratitude to you dreamed once that I saw him in a ship full of serpents; luck-
and to your mother for all the care you have taken of me.’ ily the water was rough, and that means gold or precious
“‘Oh, don’t let us cast accounts,’ she said laughing. But her stones from over-sea.’
laughter covered an agitation that gave me pain. I went on “The silly, friendly words were like the crooning lullaby
without appearing to hear her words: with which a mother soothes her sick child; they in a man-

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ner calmed me. There was a pleasant heartiness in the worthy life of another that we revere within us; then and so it begins
woman’s looks and tones, which, if it could not remove trouble, for us the cruelest trouble of all—the misery with a hope in
at any rate soothed and quieted it, and deadened the pain. it, a hope for which we must even bear our torments. I
Pauline, keener-sighted than her mother, studied me uneasily; thought I would go to Rastignac on the morrow to confide
her quick eyes seemed to read my life and my future. I thanked Foedora’s strange resolution to him, and with that I slept.
the mother and daughter by an inclination of the head, and “‘Ah, ha!’ cried Rastignac, as he saw me enter his lodging
hurried away; I was afraid I should break down. at nine o’clock in the morning. ‘I know what brings you
“I found myself alone under my roof, and laid myself down here. Foedora has dismissed you. Some kind souls, who were
in my misery. My unhappy imagination suggested number- jealous of your ascendency over the countess, gave out that
less baseless projects, and prescribed impossible resolutions. you were going to be married. Heaven only knows what fol-
When a man is struggling in the wreck of his fortunes, he is lies your rivals have equipped you with, and what slanders
not quite without resources, but I was engulfed. Ah, my dear have been directed at you.’
fellow, we are too ready to blame the wretched. Let us be less “‘That explains everything!’ I exclaimed. I remembered all
harsh on the results of the most powerful of all social sol- my presumptuous speeches, and gave the countess credit for
vents. Where poverty is absolute there exist no such things no little magnanimity. It pleased me to think that I was a
as shame or crime, or virtue or intelligence. I knew not what miscreant who had not been punished nearly enough, and I
to do; I was as defenceless as a maiden on her knees before a saw nothing in her indulgence but the long-suffering charity
beast of prey. A penniless man who has no ties to bind him is of love.
master of himself at any rate, but a luckless wretch who is in “‘Not quite so fast,’ urged the prudent Gascon; ‘Foedora
love no longer belongs to himself, and may not take his own has all the sagacity natural to a profoundly selfish woman;
life. Love makes us almost sacred in our own eyes; it is the perhaps she may have taken your measure while you still

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coveted only her money and her splendor; in spite of all your tal is imaginary. That devil of a Gascon quite disconcerted me
care, she could have read you through and through. She can by the coolness of his manners and his absolute self-posses-
dissemble far too well to let any dissimulation pass undetec- sion. While we were taking coffee after an excellent and well-
ted. I fear,’ he went on, ‘that I have brought you into a bad ordered repast, a young dandy entered, who did not escape
way. In spite of her cleverness and her tact, she seems to me Rastignac. He had been nodding here and there among the
a domineering sort of person, like every woman who can crowd to this or that young man, distinguished both by per-
only feel pleasure through her brain. Happiness for her lies sonal attractions and elegant attire, and now he said to me:
entirely in a comfortable life and in social pleasures; her sen- “‘Here’s your man,’ as he beckoned to this gentleman with
timent is only assumed; she will make you miserable; you a wonderful cravat, who seemed to be looking for a table
will be her head footman.’ that suited his ideas.
“He spoke to the deaf. I broke in upon him, disclosing, “‘That rogue has been decorated for bringing out books
with an affectation of light-heartedness, the state of my fi- that he doesn’t understand a word of,’ whispered Rastignac;
nances. ‘he is a chemist, a historian, a novelist, and a political writer;
“‘Yesterday evening,’ he rejoined, ‘luck ran against me, and he has gone halves, thirds, or quarters in the authorship of I
that carried off all my available cash. But for that trivial mis- don’t know how many plays, and he is as ignorant as Dom
hap, I would gladly have shared my purse with you. But let Miguel’s mule. He is not a man so much as a name, a label
us go and breakfast at the restaurant; perhaps there is good that the public is familiar with. So he would do well to avoid
counsel in oysters.’ shops inscribed with the motto, “Ici l’on peut ecrire soi-
“He dressed, and had his tilbury brought round. We went meme.” He is acute enough to deceive an entire congress of
to the Cafe de Paris like a couple of millionaires, armed with diplomatists. In a couple of words, he is a moral half-caste,
all the audacious impertinence of the speculator whose capi- not quite a fraud, nor entirely genuine. But, hush! he has

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succeeded already; nobody asks anything further, and every “Then, bending over this singular man of business, he went
one calls him an illustrious man.’ on:
“‘Well, my esteemed and excellent friend, and how may “‘He is a man of talent, and a simpleton that will do your
Your Intelligence be?’ So Rastignac addressed the stranger as memoirs for you, in his aunt’s name, for a hundred crowns a
he sat down at a neighboring table. volume.’
“‘Neither well nor ill; I am overwhelmed with work. I have “‘It’s a bargain,’ said the other, adjusting his cravat. ‘Waiter,
all the necessary materials for some very curious historical my oysters.’
memoirs in my hands, and I cannot find any one to whom I “‘Yes, but you must give me twenty-five louis as commis-
can ascribe them. It worries me, for I shall have to be quick sion, and you will pay him in advance for each volume,’ said
about it. Memoirs are falling out of fashion.’ Rastignac.
“‘What are the memoirs—contemporaneous, ancient, or “‘No, no. He shall only have fifty crowns on account, and
memoirs of the court, or what?’ then I shall be sure of having my manuscript punctually.’
“‘They relate to the Necklace affair.’ “Rastignac repeated this business conversation to me in
“‘Now, isn’t that a coincidence?’ said Rastignac, turning to low tones; and then, without giving me any voice in the
me and laughing. He looked again to the literary specula- matter, he replied:
tion, and said, indicating me: “‘We agree to your proposal. When can we call upon you
“‘This is M. de Valentin, one of my friends, whom I must to arrange the affair?’
introduce to you as one of our future literary celebrities. He “‘Oh, well! Come and dine here to-morrow at seven
had formerly an aunt, a marquise, much in favor once at o’clock.’
court, and for about two years he has been writing a Royalist “We rose. Rastignac flung some money to the waiter, put
history of the Revolution.’ the bill in his pocket, and we went out. I was quite stupified

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by the flippancy and ease with which he had sold my vener- my literary middle-man, hasn’t he devoted eight years of his
able aunt, la Marquise de Montbauron. life to obtaining a footing in the book-trade, and paid heavily
“‘I would sooner take ship for the Brazils, and give the for his experience? You divide the money and the labor of
Indians lessons in algebra, though I don’t know a word of it, the book with him very unequally, but isn’t yours the better
than tarnish my family name.’ part? Twenty-five louis means as much to you as a thousand
“Rastignac burst out laughing. francs does to him. Come, you can write historical memoirs,
“‘How dense you are! Take the fifty crowns in the first a work of art such as never was, since Diderot once wrote six
instance, and write the memoirs. When you have finished sermons for a hundred crowns!’
them, you will decline to publish them in your aunt’s name, “‘After all,’ I said, in agitation, ‘I cannot choose but do it.
imbecile! Madame de Montbauron, with her hooped petti- So, my dear friend, my thanks are due to you. I shall be
coat, her rank and beauty, rouge and slippers, and her death quite rich with twenty-five louis.’
upon the scaffold, is worth a great deal more than six hun- “‘Richer than you think,’ he laughed. ‘If I have my com-
dred francs. And then, if the trade will not give your aunt mission from Finot in this matter, it goes to you, can’t you
her due, some old adventurer, or some shady countess or see? Now let us go to the Bois de Boulogne,’ he said; ‘we
other, will be found to put her name to the memoirs.’ shall see your countess there, and I will show you the pretty
“‘Oh,’ I groaned; ‘why did I quit the blameless life in my little widow that I am to marry—a charming woman, an
garret? This world has aspects that are very vilely dishonor- Alsacienne, rather plump. She reads Kant, Schiller, Jean Paul,
able.’ and a host of lachrymose books. She has a mania for con-
“‘Yes,’ said Rastignac, ‘that is all very poetical, but this is a tinually asking my opinion, and I have to look as if I entered
matter of business. What a child you are! Now, listen to me. into all this German sensibility, and to know a pack of bal-
As to your work, the public will decide upon it; and as for lads—drugs, all of them, that my doctor absolutely prohib-

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its. As yet I have not been able to wean her from her literary myself in, and stood by my dormer window, outwardly calm
enthusiasms; she sheds torrents of tears as she reads Goethe, enough, but in reality I bade a last good-bye to the roofs
and I have to weep a little myself to please her, for she has an without. I began to live in the future, rehearsed my life drama,
income of fifty thousand livres, my dear boy, and the pretti- and discounted love and its happiness. Ah, how stormy life
est little hand and foot in the world. Oh, if she would only can grow to be within the four walls of a garret! The soul
say mon ange and brouiller instead of mon anche and within us is like a fairy; she turns straw into diamonds for us;
prouiller, she would be perfection!’ and for us, at a touch of her wand, enchanted palaces arise,
“We saw the countess, radiant amid the splendors of her as flowers in the meadows spring up towards the sun.
equipage. The coquette bowed very graciously to us both, “Towards noon, next day, Pauline knocked gently at my
and the smile she gave me seemed to me to be divine and full door, and brought me—who could guess it?—a note from
of love. I was very happy; I fancied myself beloved; I had Foedora. The countess asked me to take her to the Luxem-
money, a wealth of love in my heart, and my troubles were bourg, and to go thence to see with her the Museum and
over. I was light-hearted, blithe, and content. I found my Jardin des Plantes.
friend’s lady-love charming. Earth and air and heaven—all “‘The man is waiting for an answer,’ said Pauline, after
nature—seemed to reflect Foedora’s smile for me. quietly waiting for a moment.
“As we returned through the Champs-Elysees, we paid a “I hastily scrawled my acknowledgements, and Pauline took
visit to Rastignac’s hatter and tailor. Thanks to the ‘Neck- the note. I changed my dress. When my toilette was ended,
lace,’ my insignificant peace-footing was to end, and I made and I looked at myself with some complaisance, an icy shiver
formidable preparations for a campaign. Henceforward I need ran through me as I thought:
not shrink from a contest with the spruce and fashionable “‘Will Foedora walk or drive? Will it rain or shine?—No
young men who made Foedora’s circle. I went home, locked matter, though,’ I said to myself; ‘whichever it is, can one

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ever reckon with feminine caprice? She will have no money new and sparkling, and slily hiding in a cranny between two
about her, and will want to give a dozen francs to some little boards? I did not try to account for its previous reserve and
Savoyard because his rags are picturesque.’ the cruelty of which it had been guilty in thus lying hidden;
“I had not a brass farthing, and should have no money till I kissed it for a friend faithful in adversity, and hailed it with
the evening came. How dearly a poet pays for the intellec- a cry that found an echo, and made me turn sharply, to find
tual prowess that method and toil have brought him, at such Pauline with a face grown white.
crises of our youth! Innumerable painfully vivid thoughts “‘I thought,’ she faltered, ‘that you had hurt yourself! The
pierced me like barbs. I looked out of my window; the weather man who brought the letter—’ (she broke off as if some-
was very unsettled. If things fell out badly, I might easily thing smothered her voice). ‘But mother has paid him,’ she
hire a cab for the day; but would not the fear lie on me every added, and flitted away like a wayward, capricious child. Poor
moment that I might not meet Finot in the evening? I felt little one! I wanted her to share in my happiness. I seemed to
too weak to endure such fears in the midst of my felicity. have all the happiness in the world within me just then; and
Though I felt sure that I should find nothing, I began a grand I would fain have returned to the unhappy, all that I felt as if
search through my room; I looked for imaginary coins in I had stolen from them.
the recesses of my mattress; I hunted about everywhere—I “The intuitive perception of adversity is sound for the most
even shook out my old boots. A nervous fever seized me; I part; the countess had sent away her carriage. One of those
looked with wild eyes at the furniture when I had ransacked freaks that pretty women can scarcely explain to themselves
it all. Will you understand, I wonder, the excitement that had determined her to go on foot, by way of the boulevards,
possessed me when, plunged deep in the listlessness of de- to the Jardin des Plantes.
spair, I opened my writing-table drawer, and found a fair “‘It will rain,’ I told her, and it pleased her to contradict
and splendid ten-franc piece that shone like a rising star, me.

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“As it fell out, the weather was fine while we went through nomenon of our nature, but it cannot be expressed.
the Luxembourg; when we came out, some drops fell from a “I did not dissect my sensations during those violent sei-
great cloud, whose progress I had watched uneasily, and we zures of passion,” Raphael went on, after a moment of si-
took a cab. At the Museum I was about to dismiss the ve- lence, as if he were replying to an objection raised by him-
hicle, and Foedora (what agonies!) asked me not to do so. self. “I did not analyze my pleasures nor count my heart-
But it was like a dream in broad daylight for me, to chat beats then, as a miser scrutinizes and weighs his gold pieces.
with her, to wander in the Jardin des Plantes, to stray down No; experience sheds its melancholy light over the events of
the shady alleys, to feel her hand upon my arm; the secret the past to-day, and memory brings these pictures back, as
transports repressed in me were reduced, no doubt, to a fixed the sea-waves in fair weather cast up fragment after fragment
and foolish smile upon my lips; there was something unreal of the debris of a wrecked vessel upon the strand.
about it all. Yet in all her movements, however alluring, “‘It is in your power to render me a rather important ser-
whether we stood or whether we walked, there was nothing vice,’ said the countess, looking at me in an embarrassed
either tender or lover-like. When I tried to share in a mea- way. ‘After confiding in you my aversion to lovers, I feel myself
sure the action of movement prompted by her life, I became more at liberty to entreat your good offices in the name of
aware of a check, or of something strange in her that I can- friendship. Will there not be very much more merit in oblig-
not explain, or an inner activity concealed in her nature. There ing me to-day?’ she asked, laughing.
is no suavity about the movements of women who have no “I looked at her in anguish. Her manner was coaxing, but
soul in them. Our wills were opposed, and we did not keep in no wise affectionate; she felt nothing for me; she seemed
step together. Words are wanting to describe this outward to be playing a part, and I thought her a consummate ac-
dissonance between two beings; we are not accustomed to tress. Then all at once my hopes awoke once more, at a single
read a thought in a movement. We instinctively feel this phe- look and word. Yet if reviving love expressed itself in my

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eyes, she bore its light without any change in the clearness of eyes; she did not reject my admiration in any way; surely she
her own; they seemed, like a tiger’s eyes, to have a sheet of loved me!
metal behind them. I used to hate her in such moments. “Fortunately, my purse held just enough to satisfy her cab-
“‘The influence of the Duc de Navarreins would be very man. The day spent in her house, alone with her, was deli-
useful to me, with an all-powerful person in Russia,’ she went cious; it was the first time that I had seen her in this way.
on, persuasion in every modulation of her voice, ‘whose in- Hitherto we had always been kept apart by the presence of
tervention I need in order to have justice done me in a mat- others, and by her formal politeness and reserved manners,
ter that concerns both my fortune and my position in the even during her magnificent dinners; but now it was as if I
world, that is to say, the recognition of my marriage by the lived beneath her own roof—I had her all to myself, so to
Emperor. Is not the Duc de Navarreins a cousin of yours? A speak. My wandering fancy broke down barriers, arranged the
letter from him would settle everything.’ events of life to my liking, and steeped me in happiness and
“‘I am yours,’ I answered; ‘command me.’ love. I seemed to myself her husband, I liked to watch her
“‘You are very nice,’ she said, pressing my hand. ‘Come busied with little details; it was a pleasure to me even to see her
and have dinner with me, and I will tell you everything, as if take off her bonnet and shawl. She left me alone for a little,
you were my confessor.’ and came back, charming, with her hair newly arranged; and
“So this discreet, suspicious woman, who had never been this dainty change of toilette had been made for me!
heard to speak a word about her affairs to any one, was go- “During the dinner she lavished attention upon me, and
ing to consult me. put charm without end into those numberless trifles to all
“‘Oh, how dear to me is this silence that you have imposed seeming, that make up half of our existence nevertheless. As
on me!’ I cried; ‘but I would rather have had some sharper we sat together before a crackling fire, on silken cushions
ordeal still.’ And she smiled upon the intoxication in my surrounded by the most desirable creations of Oriental luxury;

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as I saw this woman whose famous beauty made every heart signed he paid me down fifty crowns, and the three of us
beat, so close to me; an unapproachable woman who was breakfasted together. I had only thirty francs left over, when
talking and bringing all her powers of coquetry to bear upon I had paid for my new hat, for sixty tickets at thirty sous
me; then my blissful pleasure rose almost to the point of each, and settled my debts; but for some days to come the
suffering. To my vexation, I recollected the important busi- difficulties of living were removed. If I had but listened to
ness to be concluded; I determined to go to keep the ap- Rastignac, I might have had abundance by frankly adopting
pointment made for me for this evening. the ‘English system.’ He really wanted to establish my credit
“‘So soon?’ she said, seeing me take my hat. by setting me to raise loans, on the theory that borrowing is
“She loved me, then! or I thought so at least, from the the basis of credit. To hear him talk, the future was the larg-
bland tones in which those two words were uttered. I would est and most secure kind of capital in the world. My future
then have bartered a couple of years of life for every hour she luck was hypothecated for the benefit of my creditors, and
chose to grant to me, and so prolong my ecstasy. My happi- he gave my custom to his tailor, an artist, and a young man’s
ness was increased by the extent of the money I sacrificed. It tailor, who was to leave me in peace until I married.
was midnight before she dismissed me. But on the morrow, “The monastic life of study that I had led for three years
for all that, my heroism cost me a good many remorseful past ended on this day. I frequented Foedora’s house very
pangs; I was afraid the affair of the Memoirs, now of such diligently, and tried to outshine the heroes or the swaggerers
importance for me, might have fallen through, and rushed to be found in her circle. When I believed that I had left
off to Rastignac. We found the nominal author of my future poverty for ever behind me, I regained my freedom of mind,
labors just getting up. humiliated my rivals, and was looked upon as a very attrac-
“Finot read over a brief agreement to me, in which noth- tive, dazzling, and irresistible sort of man. But acute folk
ing whatever was said about my aunt, and when it had been used to say with regard to me, ‘A fellow as clever as that will

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keep all his enthusiasms in his brain,’ and charitably extolled provision of cakes and tea that is offered in drawing-rooms,
my faculties at the expense of my feelings. ‘Isn’t he lucky, not or one of the countess’ great dinners must sustain me for
to be in love!’ they exclaimed. ‘If he were, could he be so two whole days. I used all my time, and exerted every effort
light-hearted and animated?’ Yet in Foedora’s presence I was and all my powers of observation, to penetrate the impen-
as dull as love could make me. When I was alone with her, I etrable character of Foedora. Alternate hope and despair had
had not a word to say, or if I did speak, I renounced love; swayed my opinions; for me she was sometimes the tenderest,
and I affected gaiety but ill, like a courtier who has a bitter sometimes the most unfeeling of women. But these transi-
mortification to hide. I tried in every way to make myself tions from joy to sadness became unendurable; I sought to
indispensable in her life, and necessary to her vanity and to end the horrible conflict within me by extinguishing love.
her comfort; I was a plaything at her pleasure, a slave always By the light of warning gleams my soul sometimes recog-
at her side. And when I had frittered away the day in this nized the gulfs that lay between us. The countess confirmed
way, I went back to my work at night, securing merely two all my fears; I had never yet detected any tear in her eyes; an
or three hours’ sleep in the early morning. affecting scene in a play left her smiling and unmoved. All
“But I had not, like Rastignac, the ‘English system’ at my her instincts were selfish; she could not divine another’s joy
finger-ends, and I very soon saw myself without a penny. I or sorrow. She had made a fool of me, in fact!
fell at once into that precarious way of life which industri- “I had rejoiced over a sacrifice to make for her, and almost
ously hides cold and miserable depths beneath an elusive humiliated myself in seeking out my kinsman, the Duc de
surface of luxury; I was a coxcomb without conquests, a pen- Navarreins, a selfish man who was ashamed of my poverty,
niless fop, a nameless gallant. The old sufferings were re- and had injured me too deeply not to hate me. He received
newed, but less sharply; no doubt I was growing used to the me with the polite coldness that makes every word and ges-
painful crisis. Very often my sole diet consisted of the scanty ture seem an insult; he looked so ill at ease that I pitied him.

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I blushed for this pettiness amid grandeur, and penurious- every emotion of my heart translated into musical cadences.
ness surrounded by luxury. He began to talk to me of his It was my passion that filled the air and the stage, that was
heavy losses in the three per cents, and then I told him the triumphant everywhere but with my mistress. Then I would
object of my visit. The change in his manners, hitherto gla- take Foedora’s hand. I used to scan her features and her eyes,
cial, which now gradually, became affectionate, disgusted me. imploring of them some indication that one blended feeling
“Well, he called upon the countess, and completely eclipsed possessed us both, seeking for the sudden harmony awak-
me with her. ened by the power of music, which makes our souls vibrate
“On him Foedora exercised spells and witcheries unheard in unison; but her hand was passive, her eyes said nothing.
of; she drew him into her power, and arranged her whole “When the fire that burned in me glowed too fiercely from
mysterious business with him; I was left out, I heard not a the face I turned upon her, she met it with that studied smile
word of it; she had made a tool of me! She did not seem to of hers, the conventional expression that sits on the lips of
be aware of my existence while my cousin was present; she every portrait in every exhibition. She was not listening to
received me less cordially perhaps than when I was first pre- the music. The divine pages of Rossini, Cimarosa, or
sented to her. One evening she chose to mortify me before Zingarelli called up no emotion, gave no voice to any poetry
the duke by a look, a gesture, that it is useless to try to ex- in her life; her soul was a desert.
press in words. I went away with tears in my eyes, planning “Foedora presented herself as a drama before a drama. Her
terrible and outrageous schemes of vengeance without end. lorgnette traveled restlessly over the boxes; she was restless
“I often used to go with her to the theatre. Love utterly too beneath the apparent calm; fashion tyrannized over her;
absorbed me as I sat beside her; as I looked at her I used to her box, her bonnet, her carriage, her own personality ab-
give myself up to the pleasure of listening to the music, put- sorbed her entirely. My merciless knowledge thoroughly tore
ting all my soul into the double joy of love and of hearing away all my illusions. If good breeding consists in self-for-

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getfulness and consideration for others, in constantly show- over me. She was so vain and sophisticated, that the lan-
ing gentleness in voice and bearing, in pleasing others, and guage of vanity would appeal to her; she would have allowed
in making them content in themselves, all traces of her ple- herself to be taken in the toils of an intrigue; a hard, cold
beian origin were not yet obliterated in Foedora, in spite of nature would have gained a complete ascendency over her.
her cleverness. Her self-forgetfulness was a sham, her man- Keen grief had pierced me to my very soul, as she uncon-
ners were not innate but painfully acquired, her politeness sciously revealed her absolute love of self. I seemed to see her
was rather subservient. And yet for those she singled out, her as she one day would be, alone in the world, with no one to
honeyed words expressed natural kindness, her pretentious whom she could stretch her hand, with no friendly eyes for
exaggeration was exalted enthusiasm. I alone had scrutinized her own to meet and rest upon. I was bold enough to set this
her grimacings, and stripped away the thin rind that suf- before her one evening; I painted in vivid colors her lonely,
ficed to conceal her real nature from the world; her trickery sad, deserted old age. Her comment on this prospect of so
no longer deceived me; I had sounded the depths of that terrible a revenge of thwarted nature was horrible.
feline nature. I blushed for her when some donkey or other “‘I shall always have money,’ she said; ‘and with money we
flattered and complimented her. And yet I loved her through can always inspire such sentiments as are necessary for our
it all! I hoped that her snows would melt with the warmth of comfort in those about us.’
a poet’s love. If I could only have made her feel all the great- “I went away confounded by the arguments of luxury, by
ness that lies in devotion, then I should have seen her per- the reasoning of this woman of the world in which she lived;
fected, she would have been an angel. I loved her as a man, a and blamed myself for my infatuated idolatry. I myself had
lover, and an artist; if it had been necessary not to love her so not loved Pauline because she was poor; and had not the
that I might win her, some cool-headed coxcomb, some self- wealthy Foedora a right to repulse Raphael? Conscience is
possessed calculator would perhaps have had an advantage our unerring judge until we finally stifle it. A specious voice

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said within me, ‘Foedora is neither attracted to nor repulses heavily, Foedora had called a cab for me before I could es-
any one; she has her liberty, but once upon a time she sold cape from her show of concern; she would not admit any of
herself to the Russian count, her husband or her lover, for my excuses—my liking for wet weather, and my wish to go
gold. But temptation is certain to enter into her life. Wait till to the gaming-table. She did not read my poverty in my
that moment comes!’ She lived remote from humanity, in a embarrassed attitude, or in my forced jests. My eyes would
sphere apart, in a hell or a heaven of her own; she was nei- redden, but she did not understand a look. A young man’s
ther frail nor virtuous. This feminine enigma in embroider- life is at the mercy of the strangest whims! At every revolu-
ies and cashmeres had brought into play every emotion of tion of the wheels during the journey, thoughts that burned
the human heart in me—pride, ambition, love, curiosity. stirred in my heart. I tried to pull up a plank from the bot-
“There was a craze just then for praising a play at a little tom of the vehicle, hoping to slip through the hole into the
Boulevard theatre, prompted perhaps by a wish to appear street; but finding insuperable obstacles, I burst into a fit of
original that besets us all, or due to some freak of fashion. laughter, and then sat stupefied in calm dejection, like a man
The countess showed some signs of a wish to see the floured in a pillory. When I reached my lodging, Pauline broke in
face of the actor who had so delighted several people of taste, through my first stammering words with:
and I obtained the honor of taking her to a first presentation “‘If you haven’t any money—?’
of some wretched farce or other. A box scarcely cost five francs, “Ah, the music of Rossini was as nothing compared with
but I had not a brass farthing. I was but half-way through those words. But to return to the performance at the
the volume of Memoirs; I dared not beg for assistance of Funambules.
Finot, and Rastignac, my providence, was away. These con- “I thought of pawning the circlet of gold round my mother’s
stant perplexities were the bane of my life. portrait in order to escort the countess. Although the pawn-
“We had once come out of the theatre when it was raining broker loomed in my thoughts as one of the doors of a

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convict’s prison, I would rather myself have carried my bed “Then she did not love me. Her jesting tones, and a little
thither than have begged for alms. There is something so gleeful movement that escaped her, expressed nothing be-
painful in the expression of a man who asks money of you! yond a girlish, blithe goodwill. I told her about my distress
There are loans that mulct us of our self-respect, just as some and the predicament in which I found myself, and asked her
rebuffs from a friend’s lips sweep away our last illusion. to help me.
“Pauline was working; her mother had gone to bed. I flung “‘You do not wish to go to the pawnbroker’s yourself, M.
a stealthy glance over the bed; the curtains were drawn back Raphael,’ she answered, ‘and yet you would send me!’
a little; Madame Gaudin was in a deep sleep, I thought, when “I blushed in confusion at the child’s reasoning. She took
I saw her quiet, sallow profile outlined against the pillow. my hand in hers as if she wanted to compensate for this
“‘You are in trouble?’ Pauline said, dipping her brush into home-truth by her light touch upon it.
the coloring. “‘Oh, I would willingly go,’ she said, ‘but it is not neces-
“‘It is in your power to do me a great service, my dear sary. I found two five-franc pieces at the back of the piano,
child,’ I answered. that had slipped without your knowledge between the frame
“The gladness in her eyes frightened me. and the keyboard, and I laid them on your table.’
“‘Is it possible that she loves me?’ I thought. ‘Pauline,’ I be- “‘You will soon be coming into some money, M. Raphael,’
gan. I went and sat near to her, so as to study her. My tones said the kind mother, showing her face between the curtains,
had been so searching that she read my thought; her eyes fell, ‘and I can easily lend you a few crowns meanwhile.’
and I scrutinized her face. It was so pure and frank that I “‘Oh, Pauline!’ I cried, as I pressed her hand, ‘how I wish
fancied I could see as clearly into her heart as into my own. that I were rich!’
“‘Do you love me?’ I asked. “‘Bah! why should you?’ she said petulantly. Her hand
“‘A little,—passionately—not a bit!’ she cried. shook in mine with the throbbing of her pulse; she snatched

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it away, and looked at both of mine. “‘Perhaps your ten francs is not enough,’ said the amiable,
“‘You will marry a rich wife,’ she said, ‘but she will give kind-hearted girl; ‘my mother told me to offer you this money.
you a great deal of trouble. Ah, Dieu! she will be your death,— Take it, please, take it!’
I am sure of it.’ “She laid three crowns upon the table, and tried to escape,
“In her exclamation there was something like belief in her but I would not let her go. Admiration dried the tears that
mother’s absurd superstitions. sprang to my eyes.
“‘You are very credulous, Pauline!’ “‘You are an angel, Pauline,’ I said. ‘It is not the loan that
“‘The woman whom you will love is going to kill you— touches me so much as the delicacy with which it is offered.
there is no doubt of it,’ she said, looking at me with alarm. I used to wish for a rich wife, a fashionable woman of rank;
“She took up her brush again and dipped it in the color; and now, alas! I would rather possess millions, and find some
her great agitation was evident; she looked at me no longer. girl, as poor as you are, with a generous nature like your
I was ready to give credence just then to superstitious fan- own; and I would renounce a fatal passion which will kill
cies; no man is utterly wretched so long as he is supersti- me. Perhaps what you told me will come true.’
tious; a belief of that kind is often in reality a hope. “‘That is enough,’ she said, and fled away; the fresh trills
“I found that those two magnificent five-franc pieces were of her birdlike voice rang up the staircase.
lying, in fact, upon my table when I reached my room. Dur- “‘She is very happy in not yet knowing love,’ I said to my-
ing the first confused thoughts of early slumber, I tried to self, thinking of the torments I had endured for many months
audit my accounts so as to explain this unhoped-for wind- past.
fall; but I lost myself in useless calculations, and slept. Just as “Pauline’s fifteen francs were invaluable to me. Foedora,
I was leaving my room to engage a box the next morning, thinking of the stifling odor of the crowded place where we
Pauline came to see me. were to spend several hours, was sorry that she had not

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brought a bouquet; I went in search of flowers for her, as I “I seemed to see that monstrous creation, at one time an
had laid already my life and my fate at her feet. With a plea- officer, breaking in a spirited horse; at another, a girl, who
sure in which compunction mingled, I gave her a bouquet. I gives herself up to her toilette and breaks her lovers’ hearts;
learned from its price the extravagance of superficial gallantry or again, a false lover driving a timid and gentle maid to
in the world. But very soon she complained of the heavy despair. Unable to analyze Foedora by any other process, I
scent of a Mexican jessamine. The interior of the theatre, the told her this fanciful story; but no hint of her resemblance to
bare bench on which she was to sit, filled her with intoler- this poetry of the impossible crossed her—it simply diverted
able disgust; she upbraided me for bringing her there. Al- her; she was like a child over a story from the Arabian Nights.
though she sat beside me, she wished to go, and she went. I “‘Foedora must be shielded by some talisman,’ I thought
had spent sleepless nights, and squandered two months of to myself as I went back, ‘or she could not resist the love of a
my life for her, and I could not please her. Never had that man of my age, the infectious fever of that splendid malady
tormenting spirit been more unfeeling or more fascinating. of the soul. Is Foedora, like Lady Delacour, a prey to a can-
“I sat beside her in the cramped back seat of the vehicle; all cer? Her life is certainly an unnatural one.’
the way I could feel her breath on me and the contact of her “I shuddered at the thought. Then I decided on a plan, at
perfumed glove; I saw distinctly all her exceeding beauty; I once the wildest and the most rational that lover ever dreamed
inhaled a vague scent of orris-root; so wholly a woman she of. I would study this woman from a physical point of view,
was, with no touch of womanhood. Just then a sudden gleam as I had already studied her intellectually, and to this end I
of light lit up the depths of this mysterious life for me. I made up my mind to spend a night in her room without her
thought all at once of a book just published by a poet, a knowledge. This project preyed upon me as a thirst for re-
genuine conception of the artist, in the shape of the statue of venge gnaws at the heart of a Corsican monk. This is how I
Polycletus. carried it out. On the days when Foedora received, her rooms

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were far too crowded for the hall-porter to keep the balance port, and the space between me and the curtains, I had be-
even between goers and comers; I could remain in the house, come sufficiently acquainted with all the difficulties of my
I felt sure, without causing a scandal in it, and I waited the position to stay in it without fear of detection if undisturbed
countess’ coming soiree with impatience. As I dressed I put a by cramp, coughs, or sneezings. To avoid useless fatigue, I
little English penknife into my waistcoat pocket, instead of a remained standing until the critical moment, when I must
poniard. That literary implement, if found upon me, could hang suspended like a spider in its web. The white-watered
awaken no suspicion, but I knew not whither my romantic silk and muslin of the curtains spread before me in great
resolution might lead, and I wished to be prepared. pleats like organ-pipes. With my penknife I cut loopholes in
“As soon as the rooms began to fill, I entered the bedroom them, through which I could see.
and examined the arrangements. The inner and outer shut- “I heard vague murmurs from the salons, the laughter and
ters were closed; this was a good beginning; and as the wait- the louder tones of the speakers. The smothered commotion
ing-maid might come to draw back the curtains that hung and vague uproar lessened by slow degrees. One man and
over the windows, I pulled them together. I was running another came for his hat from the countess’ chest of drawers,
great risks in venturing to manoeuvre beforehand in this way, close to where I stood. I shivered, if the curtains were dis-
but I had accepted the situation, and had deliberately reck- turbed, at the thought of the mischances consequent on the
oned with its dangers. confused and hasty investigations made by the men in a hurry
“About midnight I hid myself in the embrasure of the win- to depart, who were rummaging everywhere. When I expe-
dow. I tried to scramble on to a ledge of the wainscoting, rienced no misfortunes of this kind, I augured well of my
hanging on by the fastening of the shutters with my back enterprise. An old wooer of Foedora’s came for the last hat;
against the wall, in such a position that my feet could not be he thought himself quite alone, looked at the bed, and heaved
visible. When I had carefully considered my points of sup- a great sigh, accompanied by some inaudible exclamation,

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into which he threw sufficient energy. In the boudoir close bah! he is attractive, bewitching, he is delightful! Suppose
by, the countess, finding only some five or six intimate ac- they are enemies, you fling every one, dead or alive, in their
quaintances about her, proposed tea. The scandals for which teeth. You reverse your phraseology for their benefit, and
existing society has reserved the little faculty of belief that it you are as keen in detecting their faults as you were before
retains, mingled with epigrams and trenchant witticisms, and adroit in bringing out the virtues of your friends. This way
the clatter of cups and spoons. Rastignac drew roars of laugh- of using the mental lorgnette is the secret of conversation
ter by merciless sarcasms at the expense of my rivals. nowadays, and the whole art of the complete courtier. If you
“‘M. de Rastignac is a man with whom it is better not to neglect it, you might as well go out as an unarmed knight-
quarrel,’ said the countess, laughing. banneret to fight against men in armor. And I make use of
“‘I am quite of that opinion,’ was his candid reply. ‘I have it, and even abuse it at times. So we are respected—I and my
always been right about my aversions—and my friendships friends; and, moreover, my sword is quite as sharp as my
as well,’ he added. ‘Perhaps my enemies are quite as useful to tongue.’
me as my friends. I have made a particular study of modern “One of Foedora’s most fervid worshipers, whose presump-
phraseology, and of the natural craft that is used in all attack tion was notorious, and who even made it contribute to his
or defence. Official eloquence is one of our perfect social success, took up the glove thrown down so scornfully by
products. Rastignac. He began an unmeasured eulogy of me, my per-
“‘One of your friends is not clever, so you speak of his formances, and my character. Rastignac had overlooked this
integrity and his candor. Another’s work is heavy; you intro- method of detraction. His sarcastic encomiums misled the
duce it as a piece of conscientious labor; and if the book is ill countess, who sacrificed without mercy; she betrayed my
written, you extol the ideas it contains. Such an one is treach- secrets, and derided my pretensions and my hopes, to divert
erous and fickle, slips through your fingers every moment; her friends.

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“‘There is a future before him,’ said Rastignac. ‘Some day heart beating. ‘Will you not give me a few more minutes?
he may be in a position to take a cruel revenge; his talents are Have you nothing more to say to me? will you never sacri-
at least equal to his courage; and I should consider those fice any of your pleasures for me?’
who attack him very rash, for he has a good memory——’ “He went away.
“‘And writes Memoirs,’ put in the countess, who seemed “‘Ah!’ she yawned; ‘how very tiresome they all are!’
to object to the deep silence that prevailed. “She pulled a cord energetically till the sound of a bell
“‘Memoirs of a sham countess, madame,’ replied Rastignac. rang through the place; then, humming a few notes of Pria
‘Another sort of courage is needed to write that sort of thing.’ che spunti, the countess entered her room. No one had ever
“‘I give him credit for plenty of courage,’ she answered; heard her sing; her muteness had called forth the wildest
‘he is faithful to me.’ explanations. She had promised her first lover, so it was said,
“I was greatly tempted to show myself suddenly among who had been held captive by her talent, and whose jealousy
the railers, like the shade of Banquo in Macbeth. I should over her stretched beyond his grave, that she would never
have lost a mistress, but I had a friend! But love inspired me allow others to experience a happiness that he wished to be
all at once, with one of those treacherous and fallacious subtle- his and his alone.
ties that it can use to soothe all our pangs. “I exerted every power of my soul to catch the sounds.
“If Foedora loved me, I thought, she would be sure to dis- Higher and higher rose the notes; Foedora’s life seemed to
guise her feelings by some mocking jest. How often the heart dilate within her; her throat poured forth all its richest tones;
protests against a lie on the lips! something well-nigh divine entered into the melody. There
“Well, very soon my audacious rival, left alone with the was a bright purity and clearness of tone in the countess’
countess, rose to go. voice, a thrilling harmony which reached the heart and stirred
“‘What! already?’ asked she in a coaxing voice that set my its pulses. Musicians are seldom unemotional; a woman who

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could sing like that must know how to love indeed. Her beau- this evening, my complexion is going with alarming rapid-
tiful voice made one more puzzle in a woman mysterious ity; perhaps I ought to keep earlier hours, and give up this
enough before. I beheld her then, as plainly as I see you at life of dissipation. Does Justine mean to trifle with me?’ She
this moment. She seemed to listen to herself, to experience a rang again; her maid hurried in. Where she had been I can-
secret rapture of her own; she felt, as it were, an ecstasy like not tell; she came in by a secret staircase. I was anxious to
that of love. make a study of her. I had lodged accusations, in my roman-
“She stood before the hearth during the execution of the tic imaginings, against this invisible waiting-woman, a tall,
principal theme of the rondo; and when she ceased her face well-made brunette.
changed. She looked tired; her features seemed to alter. She “‘Did madame ring?’
had laid the mask aside; her part as an actress was over. Yet “‘Yes, twice,’ answered Foedora; ‘are you really growing
the faded look that came over her beautiful face, a result deaf nowadays?’
either of this performance or of the evening’s fatigues, had “‘I was preparing madame’s milk of almonds.’
its charms, too. “Justine knelt down before her, unlaced her sandals and
“‘This is her real self,’ I thought. drew them off, while her mistress lay carelessly back on her
“She set her foot on a bronze bar of the fender as if to cushioned armchair beside the fire, yawned, and scratched
warm it, took off her gloves, and drew over her head the her head. Every movement was perfectly natural; there was
gold chain from which her bejeweled scent-bottle hung. It nothing whatever to indicate the secret sufferings or emo-
gave me a quite indescribable pleasure to watch the feline tions with which I had credited her.
grace of every movement; the supple grace a cat displays as it “‘George must be in love!’ she remarked. ‘I shall dismiss
adjusts its toilette in the sun. She looked at herself in the him. He has drawn the curtains again to-night. What does
mirror and said aloud ill-humoredly—’I did not look well he mean by it?’

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“All the blood in my veins rushed to my heart at this ob- ment, for which I was never made.’
servation, but no more was said about curtains. “What a disheartening scene for a lover! Here was a lonely
“‘Life is very empty,’ the countess went on. ‘Ah! be careful woman, without friends or kin, without the religion of love,
not to scratch me as you did yesterday. Just look here, I still without faith in any affection. Yet however slightly she might
have the marks of your nails about me,’ and she held out a feel the need to pour out her heart, a craving that every hu-
silken knee. She thrust her bare feet into velvet slippers bound man being feels, it could only be satisfied by gossiping with
with swan’s-down, and unfastened her dress, while Justine her maid, by trivial and indifferent talk … . I grieved for her.
prepared to comb her hair. “Justine unlaced her. I watched her carefully when she was
“‘You ought to marry, madame, and have children.’ at last unveiled. Her maidenly form, in its rose-tinged white-
“‘Children!’ she cried; ‘it wants no more than that to fin- ness, was visible through her shift in the taper light, as daz-
ish me at once; and a husband! What man is there to whom zling as some silver statue behind its gauze covering. No, there
I could—? Was my hair well arranged to-night?’ was no defect that need shrink from the stolen glances of love.
“‘Not particularly.’ Alas, a fair form will overcome the stoutest resolutions!
“‘You are a fool!’ “The maid lighted the taper in the alabaster sconce that
“‘That way of crimping your hair too much is the least hung before the bed, while her mistress sat thoughtful and
becoming way possible for you. Large, smooth curls suit you silent before the fire. Justine went for a warming-pan, turned
a great deal better.’ down the bed, and helped to lay her mistress in it; then, after
“‘Really?’ some further time spent in punctiliously rendering various
“‘Yes, really, madame; that wavy style only looks nice in services that showed how seriously Foedora respected her-
fair hair.’ self, her maid left her. The countess turned to and fro several
“‘Marriage? never, never! Marriage is a commercial arrange- times, and sighed; she was ill at ease; faint, just perceptible

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sounds, like sighs of impatience, escaped from her lips. She memory, a fear or a regret? A whole life lay in that utterance,
reached out a hand to the table, and took a flask from it, a life of wealth or of penury; perhaps it contained a crime!
from which she shook four or five drops of some brown liq- “The mystery that lurked beneath this fair semblance of
uid into some milk before taking it; again there followed womanhood grew afresh; there were so many ways of ex-
some painful sighs, and the exclamation, ‘Mon Dieu!’ plaining Foedora, that she became inexplicable. A sort of
“The cry, and the tone in which it was uttered, wrung my language seemed to flow from between her lips. I put thoughts
heart. By degrees she lay motionless. This frightened me; and feelings into the accidents of her breathing, whether weak
but very soon I heard a sleeper’s heavy, regular breathing. I or regular, gentle, or labored. I shared her dreams; I would
drew the rustling silk curtains apart, left my post, went to fain have divined her secrets by reading them through her
the foot of the bed, and gazed at her with feelings that I slumber. I hesitated among contradictory opinions and de-
cannot define. She was so enchanting as she lay like a child, cisions without number. I could not deny my heart to the
with her arm above her head; but the sweetness of the fair, woman I saw before me, with the calm, pure beauty in her
quiet visage, surrounded by the lace, only irritated me. I had face. I resolved to make one more effort. If I told her the
not been prepared for the torture to which I was compelled story of my life, my love, my sacrifices, might I not awaken
to submit. pity in her or draw a tear from her who never wept?
“‘Mon Dieu!’ that scrap of a thought which I understood “As I set all my hopes on this last experiment, the sounds
not, but must even take as my sole light, had suddenly modi- in the streets showed that day was at hand. For a moment’s
fied my opinion of Foedora. Trite or profoundly significant, space I pictured Foedora waking to find herself in my arms.
frivolous or of deep import, the words might be construed I could have stolen softly to her side and slipped them about
as expressive of either pleasure or pain, of physical or of mental her in a close embrace. Resolved to resist the cruel tyranny
suffering. Was it a prayer or a malediction, a forecast or a of this thought, I hurried into the salon, heedless of any

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sounds I might make; but, luckily, I came upon a secret door “‘I am hesitating to ask a favor of you.’
leading to a little staircase. As I expected, the key was in the “Her gesture revived my courage. I asked her to make the
lock; I slammed the door, went boldly out into the court, appointment with me.
and gained the street in three bounds, without looking round “‘Willingly,’ she answered’ ‘but why will you not speak to
to see whether I was observed. me now?’
“A dramatist was to read a comedy at the countess’ house “‘To be candid with you, I ought to explain the full scope of
in two days’ time; I went thither, intending to outstay the your promise: I want to spend this evening by your side, as if
others, so as to make a rather singular request to her; I meant we were brother and sister. Have no fear; I am aware of your
to ask her to keep the following evening for me alone, and to antipathies; you must have divined me sufficiently to feel sure
deny herself to other comers; but when I found myself alone that I should wish you to do nothing that could be displeasing
with her, my courage failed. Every tick of the clock alarmed to you; presumption, moreover, would not thus approach you.
me. It wanted only a quarter of an hour of midnight. You have been a friend to me, you have shown me kindness
“‘If I do not speak,’ I thought to myself, ‘I must smash my and great indulgence; know, therefore, that to-morrow I must
head against the corner of the mantelpiece.’ bid you farewell.—Do not take back your word,’ I exclaimed,
“I gave myself three minutes’ grace; the three minutes went seeing her about to speak, and I went away.
by, and I did not smash my head upon the marble; my heart “At eight o’clock one evening towards the end of May,
grew heavy, like a sponge with water. Foedora and I were alone together in her gothic boudoir. I
“‘You are exceedingly amusing,’ said she. feared no longer; I was secure of happiness. My mistress
“‘Ah, madame, if you could but understand me!’ I answered. should be mine, or I would seek a refuge in death. I had
“‘What is the matter with you?’ she asked. ‘You are turn- condemned my faint-hearted love, and a man who acknowl-
ing pale.’ edges his weakness is strong indeed.

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“The countess, in her blue cashmere gown, was reclining refuse nothing, I showed her all a lover’s deference. Acting in
on a sofa, with her feet on a cushion. She wore an Oriental this way, I received a favor—I was allowed to kiss her hand.
turban such as painters assign to early Hebrews; its strange- She daintily drew off the glove, and my whole soul was dis-
ness added an indescribable coquettish grace to her attrac- solved and poured forth in that kiss. I was steeped in the
tions. A transitory charm seemed to have laid its spell on her bliss of an illusion in which I tried to believe.
face; it might have furnished the argument that at every in- “Foedora lent herself most unexpectedly to my caress and
stant we become new and unparalleled beings, without any my flatteries. Do not accuse me of faint-heartedness; if I
resemblance to the us of the future or of the past. I had never had gone a step beyond these fraternal compliments, the
yet seen her so radiant. claws would have been out of the sheath and into me. We
“‘Do you know that you have piqued my curiosity?’ she remained perfectly silent for nearly ten minutes. I was ad-
said, laughing. miring her, investing her with the charms she had not. She
“‘I will not disappoint it,’ I said quietly, as I seated myself was mine just then, and mine only,—this enchanting be-
near to her and took the hand that she surrendered to me. ing was mine, as was permissible, in my imagination; my
‘You have a very beautiful voice!’ longing wrapped her round and held her close; in my soul
“‘You have never heard me sing!’ she exclaimed, starting I wedded her. The countess was subdued and fascinated by
involuntarily with surprise. my magnetic influence. Ever since I have regretted that this
“‘I will prove that it is quite otherwise, whenever it is nec- subjugation was not absolute; but just then I yearned for
essary. Is your delightful singing still to remain a mystery? her soul, her heart alone, and for nothing else. I longed for
Have no fear, I do not wish to penetrate it.’ an ideal and perfect happiness, a fair illusion that cannot
“We spent about an hour in familiar talk. While I adopted last for very long. At last I spoke, feeling that the last hours
the attitude and manner of a man to whom Foedora must of my frenzy were at hand.

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“‘Hear me, madame. I love you, and you know it; I have name I bear I must die sooner than beg. Set your mind at
said so a hundred times; you must have understood me. I rest, madame,’ I said; ‘to-day I have abundance, I possess
would not take upon me the airs of a coxcomb, nor would I sufficient of the clay for my needs’; for the hard look passed
flatter you, nor urge myself upon you like a fool; I would not over her face which we wear whenever a well-dressed beggar
owe your love to such arts as these! so I have been misunder- takes us by surprise. ‘Do you remember the day when you
stood. What sufferings have I not endured for your sake! For wished to go to the Gymnase without me, never believing
these, however, you were not to blame; but in a few minutes that I should be there?’ I went on.
you shall decide for yourself. There are two kinds of poverty, “She nodded.
madame. One kind openly walks the street in rags, an un- “‘I had laid out my last five-franc piece that I might see
conscious imitator of Diogenes, on a scanty diet, reducing you there. —Do you recollect our walk in the Jardin des
life to its simplest terms; he is happier, maybe, than the rich; Plantes? The hire of your cab took everything I had.’
he has fewer cares at any rate, and accepts such portions of “I told her about my sacrifices, and described the life I led;
the world as stronger spirits refuse. Then there is poverty in heated not with wine, as I am to-day, but by the generous
splendor, a Spanish pauper, concealing the life of a beggar by enthusiasm of my heart, my passion overflowed in burning
his title, his bravery, and his pride; poverty that wears a white words; I have forgotten how the feelings within me blazed
waistcoat and yellow kid gloves, a beggar with a carriage, forth; neither memory nor skill of mine could possibly re-
whose whole career will be wrecked for lack of a halfpenny. produce it. It was no colorless chronicle of blighted affec-
Poverty of the first kind belongs to the populace; the second tions; my love was strengthened by fair hopes; and such words
kind is that of blacklegs, of kings, and of men of talent. I am came to me, by love’s inspiration, that each had power to set
neither a man of the people, nor a king, nor a swindler; pos- forth a whole life—like echoes of the cries of a soul in tor-
sibly I have no talent either, I am an exception. With the ment. In such tones the last prayers ascend from dying men

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on the battlefield. I stopped, for she was weeping. Grand beautiful. Madame, those to whom a woman is merely a
Dieu! I had reaped an actor’s reward, the success of a coun- woman can always purchase odalisques fit for the seraglio,
terfeit passion displayed at the cost of five francs paid at the and achieve their happiness at a small cost. But I aspired to
theatre door. I had drawn tears from her. something higher; I wanted the life of close communion of
“‘If I had known—’ she said. heart and heart with you that have no heart. I know that
“‘Do not finish the sentence,’ I broke in. ‘Even now I love now. If you were to belong to another, I could kill him. And
you well enough to murder you—’ yet, no; for you would love him, and his death might hurt
“She reached for the bell-pull. I burst into a roar of laugh- you perhaps. What agony this is!’ I cried.
ter. “‘If it is any comfort to you,’ she retorted cheerfully, ‘I can
“‘Do not call any one,’ I said. ‘I shall leave you to finish assure you that I shall never belong to any one——’
your life in peace. It would be a blundering kind of hatred “‘So you offer an affront to God Himself,’ I interrupted;
that would murder you! You need not fear violence of any ‘and you will be punished for it. Some day you will lie upon
kind; I have spent a whole night at the foot of your bed your sofa suffering unheard-of ills, unable to endure the light
without—’ or the slightest sound, condemned to live as it were in the
“‘Monsieur—’ she said, blushing; but after that first im- tomb. Then, when you seek the causes of those lingering
pulse of modesty that even the most hardened women must and avenging torments, you will remember the woes that
surely own, she flung a scornful glance at me, and said: you distributed so lavishly upon your way. You have sown
“‘You must have been very cold.’ curses, and hatred will be your reward. We are the real judges,
“‘Do you think that I set such value on your beauty, ma- the executioners of a justice that reigns here below, which
dame,’ I answered, guessing the thoughts that moved her. overrules the justice of man and the laws of God.’
‘Your beautiful face is for me a promise of a soul yet more “‘No doubt it is very culpable in me not to love you,’ she

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said, laughing. ‘Am I to blame? No. I do not love you; you “‘And in two hours’ time you will cry to yourself, ah, mon
are a man, that is sufficient. I am happy by myself; why should Dieu!’
I give up my way of living, a selfish way, if you will, for the “‘Like the day before yesterday! Yes,’ she said, ‘I was think-
caprices of a master? Marriage is a sacrament by virtue of ing of my stockbroker; I had forgotten to tell him to convert
which each imparts nothing but vexations to the other. Chil- my five per cent stock into threes, and the three per cents
dren, moreover, worry me. Did I not faithfully warn you had fallen during the day.’
about my nature? Why are you not satisfied to have my friend- “I looked at her, and my eyes glittered with anger. Some-
ship? I wish I could make you amends for all the troubles I times a crime may be a whole romance; I understood that
have caused you, through not guessing the value of your poor just then. She was so accustomed, no doubt, to the most
five-franc pieces. I appreciate the extent of your sacrifices; impassioned declarations of this kind, that my words and
but your devotion and delicate tact can be repaid by love my tears were forgotten already.
alone, and I care so little for you, that this scene has a dis- “‘Would you marry a peer of France?’ I demanded abruptly.
agreeable effect upon me.’ “‘If he were a duke, I might.’
“‘I am fully aware of my absurdity,’ I said, unable to restrain “I seized my hat and made her a bow.
my tears. ‘Pardon me,’ I went on, ‘it was a delight to hear “‘Permit me to accompany you to the door,’ she said, cut-
those cruel words you have just uttered, so well I love you. O, ting irony in her tones, in the poise of her head, and in her
if I could testify my love with every drop of blood in me!’ gesture.
“‘Men always repeat these classic formulas to us, more or “‘Madame—’
less effectively,’ she answered, still smiling. ‘But it appears very “‘Monsieur?’
difficult to die at our feet, for I see corpses of that kind about “‘I shall never see you again.’
everywhere. It is twelve o’clock. Allow me to go to bed.’ “‘I hope not,’ and she insolently inclined her head.

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“‘You wish to be a duchess?’ I cried, excited by a sort of ies, or die. So I set myself tremendous tasks; I determined to
madness that her insolence roused in me. ‘You are wild for complete my labors. For fifteen days I never left my garret,
honors and titles? Well, only let me love you; bid my pen spending whole nights in pallid thought. I worked with dif-
write and my voice speak for you alone; be the inmost soul ficulty, and by fits and starts, despite my courage and the
of my life, my guiding star! Then, only accept me for your stimulation of despair. The music had fled. I could not exor-
husband as a minister, a peer of France, a duke. I will make cise the brilliant mocking image of Foedora. Something
of myself whatever you would have me be!’ morbid brooded over every thought, a vague longing as dread-
“‘You made good use of the time you spent with the ad- ful as remorse. I imitated the anchorites of the Thebaid. If I
vocate,’ she said smiling. ‘There is a fervency about your did not pray as they did, I lived a life in the desert like theirs,
pleadings.’ hewing out my ideas as they were wont to hew their rocks. I
“‘The present is yours,’ I cried, ‘but the future is mine! I could at need have girdled my waist with spikes, that physi-
only lose a woman; you are losing a name and a family. Time cal suffering might quell mental anguish.
is big with my revenge; time will spoil your beauty, and yours “One evening Pauline found her way into my room.
will be a solitary death; and glory waits for me!’ “‘You are killing yourself,’ she said imploringly; ‘you should
“‘Thanks for your peroration!’ she said, repressing a yawn; go out and see your friends—’
the wish that she might never see me again was expressed in “‘Pauline, you were a true prophet; Foedora is killing me, I
her whole bearing. want to die. My life is intolerable.’
“That remark silenced me. I flung at her a glance full of “‘Is there only one woman in the world?’ she asked, smil-
hatred, and hurried away. ing. ‘Why make yourself so miserable in so short a life?’
“Foedora must be forgotten; I must cure myself of my in- “I looked at Pauline in bewilderment. She left me before I
fatuation, and betake myself once more to my lonely stud- noticed her departure; the sound of her words had reached

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me, but not their sense. Very soon I had to take my Memoirs and I cannot grasp them. Death would be preferable to this
in manuscript to my literary-contractor. I was so absorbed life, and I have carefully considered the best way of putting
by my passion, that I could not remember how I had man- an end to the struggle. I am not thinking of the living Foedora
aged to live without money; I only knew that the four hun- in the Faubourg Saint Honore, but of my Foedora here,’ and
dred and fifty francs due to me would pay my debts. So I I tapped my forehead. ‘What to you say to opium?’
went to receive my salary, and met Rastignac, who thought “‘Pshaw! horrid agonies,’ said Rastignac.
me changed and thinner. “‘Or charcoal fumes?’
“‘What hospital have you been discharged from?’ he asked. “‘A low dodge.’
“‘That woman is killing me,’ I answered; ‘I can neither “‘Or the Seine?’
despise her nor forget her.’ “‘The drag-nets, and the Morgue too, are filthy.’
“‘You had much better kill her, then perhaps you would “‘A pistol-shot?’
think no more of her,’ he said, laughing. “ ‘And if you miscalculate, you disfigure yourself for life.
“‘I have often thought of it,’ I replied; ‘but though some- Listen to me,’ he went on, ‘like all young men, I have pon-
times the thought of a crime revives my spirits, of violence dered over suicide. Which of us hasn’t killed himself two or
and murder, either or both, I am really incapable of carrying three times before he is thirty? I find there is no better course
out the design. The countess is an admirable monster who than to use existence as a means of pleasure. Go in for thor-
would crave for pardon, and not every man is an Othello.’ ough dissipation, and your passion or you will perish in it.
“‘She is like every woman who is beyond our reach,’ Intemperance, my dear fellow, commands all forms of death.
Rastignac interrupted. Does she not wield the thunderbolt of apoplexy? Apoplexy
“‘I am mad,’ I cried; ‘I can feel the madness raging at times is a pistol-shot that does not miscalculate. Orgies are lavish
in my brain. My ideas are like shadows; they flit before me, in all physical pleasures; is not that the small change for

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opium? And the riot that makes us drink to excess bears a eighteen thousand francs; her fortune diminished in quan-
challenge to mortal combat with wine. That butt of Malmsey tity as her toes increased. The devil take it; if we begin an
of the Duke of Clarence’s must have had a pleasanter flavor outrageous sort of life, we may come on some bit of luck,
than Seine mud. When we sink gloriously under the table, is perhaps!’
not that a periodical death by drowning on a small scale? If “Rastignac’s eloquence carried me away. The attractions of
we are picked up by the police and stretched out on those the plan shone too temptingly, hopes were kindled, the po-
chilly benches of theirs at the police-station, do we not en- etical aspects of the matter appealed to a poet.
joy all the pleasures of the Morgue? For though we are not “‘How about money?’ I said.
blue and green, muddy and swollen corpses, on the other “‘Haven’t you four hundred and fifty francs?’
hand we have the consciousness of the climax. “‘Yes, but debts to my landlady and the tailor—’
“‘Ah,’ he went on, ‘this protracted suicide has nothing in “‘You would pay your tailor? You will never be anything
common with the bankrupt grocer’s demise. Tradespeople whatever, not so much as a minister.’
have brought the river into disrepute; they fling themselves “‘But what can one do with twenty louis?’
in to soften their creditors’ hearts. In your place I should “‘Go to the gaming-table.’
endeavor to die gracefully; and if you wish to invent a novel “I shuddered.
way of doing it, by struggling with life after this manner, I “‘You are going to launch out into what I call systematic
will be your second. I am disappointed and sick of every- dissipation,’ said he, noticing my scruples, ‘and yet you are
thing. The Alsacienne, whom it was proposed that I should afraid of a green table-cloth.’
marry, had six toes on her left foot; I cannot possibly live “‘Listen to me,’ I answered. ‘I promised my father never to
with a woman who has six toes! It would get about to a cer- set foot in a gaming-house. Not only is that a sacred prom-
tainty, and then I should be ridiculous. Her income was only ise, but I still feel an unconquerable disgust whenever I pass

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a gambling-hell; take the money and go without me. While back. Keep my room for me for six months. If I do not return
our fortune is at stake, I will set my own affairs straight, and by the fifteenth of November, you will come into possession
then I will go to your lodgings and wait for you.’ of my things. This sealed packet of manuscript is the fair copy
“That was the way I went to perdition. A young man has of my great work on “The Will,” ‘ I went on, pointing to a
only to come across a woman who will not love him, or a package. ‘Will you deposit it in the King’s Library? And you
woman who loves him too well, and his whole life becomes may do as you wish with everything that is left here.’
a chaos. Prosperity swallows up our energy just as adversity “Her look weighed heavily on my heart; Pauline was an
obscures our virtues. Back once more in my Hotel de Saint- embodiment of conscience there before me.
Quentin, I gazed about me a long while in the garret where “‘I shall have no more lessons,’ she said, pointing to the
I had led my scholar’s temperate life, a life which would per- piano.
haps have been a long and honorable one, and that I ought “I did not answer that.
not to have quitted for the fevered existence which had urged “‘Will you write to me?’
me to the brink of a precipice. Pauline surprised me in this “‘Good-bye, Pauline.’
dejected attitude. “I gently drew her towards me, and set a kiss on that inno-
“‘Why, what is the matter with you?’ she asked. cent fair brow of hers, like snow that has not yet touched the
“I rose and quietly counted out the money owing to her earth—a father’s or a brother’s kiss. She fled. I would not see
mother, and added to it sufficient to pay for six months’ rent Madame Gaudin, hung my key in its wonted place, and de-
in advance. She watched me in some alarm. parted. I was almost at the end of the Rue de Cluny when I
“‘I am going to leave you, dear Pauline.’ heard a woman’s light footstep behind me.
“‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed. “‘I have embroidered this purse for you,’ Pauline said; ‘will
“‘Listen, my child. I have not given up the idea of coming you refuse even that?’

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 The Magic Skin
“By the light of the street lamp I thought I saw tears in ture it presented. Life was suddenly revealed there in its rags
Pauline’s eyes, and I groaned. Moved perhaps by a common and spangles as the incomplete thing it really is, of course,
impulse, we parted in haste like people who fear the conta- but so vividly and picturesquely; it was like a den where a
gion of the plague. brigand has heaped up all the plunder in which he delights.
“As I waited with dignified calmness for Rastignac’s re- Some pages were missing from a copy of Byron’s poems: they
turn, his room seemed a grotesque interpretation of the sort had gone to light a fire of a few sticks for this young person,
of life I was about to enter upon. The clock on the chimney- who played for stakes of a thousand francs, and had not a
piece was surmounted by a Venus resting on her tortoise; a faggot; he kept a tilbury, and had not a whole shirt to his
half-smoked cigar lay in her arms. Costly furniture of vari- back. Any day a countess or an actress or a run of luck at
ous kinds—love tokens, very likely—was scattered about. ecarte might set him up with an outfit worthy of a king. A
Old shoes lay on a luxurious sofa. The comfortable armchair candle had been stuck into the green bronze sheath of a
into which I had thrown myself bore as many scars as a vet- vestaholder; a woman’s portrait lay yonder, torn out of its
eran; the arms were gnashed, the back was overlaid with a carved gold setting. How was it possible that a young man,
thick, stale deposit of pomade and hair-oil from the heads of whose nature craved excitement, could renounce a life so
all his visitors. Splendor and squalor were oddly mingled, on attractive by reason of its contradictions; a life that afforded
the walls, the bed, and everywhere. You might have thought all the delights of war in the midst of peace? I was growing
of a Neapolitan palace and the groups of lazzaroni about it. drowsy when Rastignac kicked the door open and shouted:
It was the room of a gambler or a mauvais sujet, where the “‘Victory! Now we can take our time about dying.’
luxury exists for one individual, who leads the life of the “He held out his hat filled with gold to me, and put it
senses and does not trouble himself over inconsistencies. down on the table; then we pranced round it like a pair of
“There was a certain imaginative element about the pic- cannibals about to eat a victim; we stamped, and danced,

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and yelled, and sang; we gave each other blows fit to kill an went in for play, gaining and losing enormous sums, but
elephant, at sight of all the pleasures of the world contained only at friends’ houses and in ballrooms; never in gaming-
in that hat. houses, for which I still retained the holy horror of my early
“‘Twenty-seven thousand francs,’ said Rastignac, adding a days. Without meaning it, I made some friends, either
few bank-notes to the pile of gold. ‘That would be enough through quarrels or owing to the easy confidence established
for other folk to live upon; will it be sufficient for us to die among those who are going to the bad together; nothing,
on? Yes! we will breathe our last in a bath of gold—hurrah!’ possibly, makes us cling to one another so tightly as our evil
and we capered afresh. propensities.
“We divided the windfall. We began with double-napo- “I made several ventures in literature, which were flatter-
leons, and came down to the smaller coins, one by one. ‘This ingly received. Great men who followed the profession of
for you, this for me,’ we kept saying, distilling our joy drop letters, having nothing to fear from me, belauded me, not so
by drop. much on account of my merits as to cast a slur on those of
“‘We won’t go to sleep,’ cried Rastignac. ‘Joseph! some their rivals.
punch!’ “I became a ‘free-liver,’ to make use of the picturesque ex-
“He threw gold to his faithful attendant. pression appropriated by the language of excess. I made it a
“‘There is your share,’ he said; ‘go and bury yourself if you point of honor not to be long about dying, and that my zeal
can.’ and prowess should eclipse those displayed by all others in
“Next day I went to Lesage and chose my furniture, took the jolliest company. I was always spruce and carefully dressed.
the rooms that you know in the Rue Taitbout, and left the I had some reputation for cleverness. There was no sign about
decoration to one of the best upholsterers. I bought horses. I me of the fearful way of living which makes a man into a
plunged into a vortex of pleasures, at once hollow and real. I mere disgusting apparatus, a funnel, a pampered beast.

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 The Magic Skin
“Very soon Debauch rose before me in all the majesty of formidable obstacles; not its single enjoyments, but enjoy-
its horror, and I grasped all that it meant. Those prudent, ment as a system, a system which establishes seldom experi-
steady-going characters who are laying down wine in bottles enced sensations and makes them habitual, which concen-
for their heirs, can barely conceive, it is true, of so wide a trates and multiplies them for us, creating a dramatic life
theory of life, nor appreciate its normal condition; but when within our life, and imperatively demanding a prompt and
will you instill poetry into the provincial intellect? Opium enormous expenditure of vitality. War, Power, Art, like De-
and tea, with all their delights, are merely drugs to folk of bauch, are all forms of demoralization, equally remote from
that calibre. the faculties of humanity, equally profound, and all are alike
“Is not the imperfect sybarite to be met with even in Paris difficult of access. But when man has once stormed the
itself, that intellectual metropolis? Unfit to endure the fa- heights of these grand mysteries, does he not walk in an-
tigues of pleasure, this sort of person, after a drinking bout, other world? Are not generals, ministers, and artists carried,
is very much like those worthy bourgeois who fall foul of more or less, towards destruction by the need of violent dis-
music after hearing a new opera by Rossini. Does he not tractions in an existence so remote from ordinary life as theirs?
renounce these courses in the same frame of mind that leads “War, after all, is the Excess of bloodshed, as the Excess of
an abstemious man to forswear Ruffec pates, because the self-interest produces Politics. Excesses of every sort are broth-
first one, forsooth, gave him the indigestion? ers. These social enormities possess the attraction of the abyss;
“Debauch is as surely an art as poetry, and is not for craven they draw towards themselves as St. Helena beckoned Na-
spirits. To penetrate its mysteries and appreciate its charms, poleon; we are fascinated, our heads swim, we wish to sound
conscientious application is required; and as with every path their depths though we cannot account for the wish. Per-
of knowledge, the way is thorny and forbidding at the out- haps the thought of Infinity dwells in these precipices, per-
set. The great pleasures of humanity are hedged about with haps they contain some colossal flattery for the soul of man;

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for is he not, then, wholly absorbed in himself? “For men in private life, for a vegetating Mirabeau dream-
“The wearied artist needs a complete contrast to his para- ing of storms in a time of calm, Excess comprises all things;
dise of imaginings and of studious hours; he either craves, it perpetually embraces the whole sum of life; it is some-
like God, the seventh day of rest, or with Satan, the plea- thing better still—it is a duel with an antagonist of unknown
sures of hell; so that his senses may have free play in opposi- power, a monster, terrible at first sight, that must be seized
tion to the employment of his faculties. Byron could never by the horns, a labor that cannot be imagined.
have taken for his relaxation to the independent gentleman’s “Suppose that nature has endowed you with a feeble stom-
delights of boston and gossip, for he was a poet, and so must ach or one of limited capacity; you acquire a mastery over it
needs pit Greece against Mahmoud. and improve it; you learn to carry your liquor; you grow
“In war, is not man an angel of extirpation, a sort of execu- accustomed to being drunk; you pass whole nights without
tioner on a gigantic scale? Must not the spell be strong in- sleep; at last you acquire the constitution of a colonel of cuir-
deed that makes us undergo such horrid sufferings so hostile assiers; and in this way you create yourself afresh, as if to fly
to our weak frames, sufferings that encircle every strong pas- in the face of Providence.
sion with a hedge of thorns? The tobacco smoker is seized “A man transformed after this sort is like a neophyte who
with convulsions, and goes through a kind of agony conse- has at last become a veteran, has accustomed his mind to
quent upon his excesses; but has he not borne a part in de- shot and shell and his legs to lengthy marches. When the
lightful festivals in realms unknown? Has Europe ever ceased monster’s hold on him is still uncertain, and it is not yet
from wars? She has never given herself time to wipe the stains known which will have the better of it, they roll over and
from her feet that are steeped in blood to the ankle. Man- over, alternately victor and vanquished, in a world where
kind at large is carried away by fits of intoxication, as nature everything is wonderful, where every ache of the soul is laid
has its accessions of love. to sleep, where only the shadows of ideas are revived.

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“This furious struggle has already become a necessity for or base, every one. Some mocking or jealous power corrupted
us. The prodigal has struck a bargain for all the enjoyments them in either soul or body, so as to make all their powers
with which life teems abundantly, at the price of his own futile, and their efforts of no avail.
death, like the mythical persons in legends who sold them- “All men and all things appear before you in the guise you
selves to the devil for the power of doing evil. For them, choose, in those hours when wine has sway. You are lord of
instead of flowing quietly on in its monotonous course in all creation; you transform it at your pleasure. And through-
the depths of some counting-house or study, life is poured out this unceasing delirium, Play may pour, at your will, its
out in a boiling torrent. molten lead into your veins.
“Excess is, in short, for the body what the mystic’s ecstasy “Some day you will fall into the monster’s power. Then
is for the soul. Intoxication steeps you in fantastic imaginings you will have, as I had, a frenzied awakening, with impo-
every whit as strange as those of ecstatics. You know hours as tence sitting by your pillow. Are you an old soldier? Phthisis
full of rapture as a young girl’s dreams; you travel without attacks you. A diplomatist? An aneurism hangs death in your
fatigue; you chat pleasantly with your friends; words come heart by a thread. It will perhaps be consumption that will
to you with a whole life in each, and fresh pleasures without cry out to me, ‘Let us be going!’ as to Raphael of Urbino, in
regrets; poems are set forth for you in a few brief phrases. old time, killed by an excess of love.
The coarse animal satisfaction, in which science has tried to “In this way I have existed. I was launched into the world
find a soul, is followed by the enchanted drowsiness that too early or too late. My energy would have been dangerous
men sigh for under the burden of consciousness. Is it not there, no doubt, if I had not have squandered it in such ways
because they all feel the need of absolute repose? Because as these. Was not the world rid of an Alexander, by the cup
Excess is a sort of toll that genius pays to pain? of Hercules, at the close of a drinking bout?
“Look at all great men; nature made them pleasure-loving “There are some, the sport of Destiny, who must either

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have heaven or hell, the hospice of St. Bernard or riotous should be unable to tear the love of her out of my breast and
excess. Only just now I lacked the heart to moralize about to fling it at her feet!
those two,” and he pointed to Euphrasia and Aquilina. “They “Well, I quickly exhausted my funds, but owing to those
are types of my own personal history, images of my life! I three years of discipline, I enjoyed the most robust health,
could scarcely reproach them; they stood before me like and on the day that I found myself without a penny I felt
judges. remarkably well. In order to carry on the process of dying, I
“In the midst of this drama that I was enacting, and while signed bills at short dates, and the day came when they must
my distracting disorder was at its height, two crises super- be met. Painful excitements! but how they quicken the pulses
vened; each brought me keen and abundant pangs. The first of youth! I was not prematurely aged; I was young yet, and
came a few days after I had flung myself, like Sardanapalus, full of vigor and life.
on my pyre. I met Foedora under the peristyle of the “At my first debt all my virtues came to life; slowly and de-
Bouffons. We both were waiting for our carriages. spairingly they seemed to pace towards me; but I could com-
“‘Ah! so you are living yet?’ pound with them—they were like aged aunts that begin with
“That was the meaning of her smile, and probably of the a scolding and end by bestowing tears and money upon you.
spiteful words she murmured in the ear of her cicisbeo, tell- “Imagination was less yielding; I saw my name bandied
ing him my history no doubt, rating mine as a common love about through every city in Europe. ‘One’s name is oneself ’
affair. She was deceived, yet she was applauding her perspi- says Eusebe Salverte. After these excursions I returned to the
cacity. Oh, that I should be dying for her, must still adore room I had never quitted, like a doppelganger in a German
her, always see her through my potations, see her still when tale, and came to myself with a start.
I was overcome with wine, or in the arms of courtesans; and “I used to see with indifference a banker’s messenger going
know that I was a target for her scornful jests! Oh, that I on his errands through the streets of Paris, like a commercial

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 The Magic Skin
Nemesis, wearing his master’s livery—a gray coat and a sil- the table to speak to him, blight my spirits, despoil me of my
ver badge; but now I hated the species in advance. One of cheerfulness, of my mistress, of all I possessed, down to my
them came one morning to ask me to meet some eleven bills very bedstead.
that I had scrawled my name upon. My signature was worth “Remorse itself is more easily endured. Remorse does not
three thousand francs! Taking me altogether, I myself was drive us into the street nor into the prison of Sainte-Pelagie;
not worth that amount. Sheriff ’s deputies rose up before me, it does not force us into the detestable sink of vice. Remorse
turning their callous faces upon my despair, as the hangman only brings us to the scaffold, where the executioner invests
regards the criminal to whom he says, ‘It has just struck half- us with a certain dignity; as we pay the extreme penalty, ev-
past three.’ I was in the power of their clerks; they could erybody believes in our innocence; but people will not credit
scribble my name, drag it through the mire, and jeer at it. I a penniless prodigal with a single virtue.
was a defaulter. Has a debtor any right to himself? Could “My debts had other incarnations. There is the kind that
not other men call me to account for my way of living? Why goes about on two feet, in a green cloth coat, and blue spec-
had I eaten puddings a la chipolata? Why had I iced my tacles, carrying umbrellas of various hues; you come face to
wine? Why had I slept, or walked, or thought, or amused face with him at the corner of some street, in the midst of
myself when I had not paid them? your mirth. These have the detestable prerogative of saying,
“At any moment, in the middle of a poem, during some ‘M. de Valentin owes me something, and does not pay. I
train of thought, or while I was gaily breakfasting in the pleas- have a hold on him. He had better not show me any offen-
ant company of my friends, I might look to see a gentleman sive airs!’ You must bow to your creditors, and moreover bow
enter in a coat of chestnut-brown, with a shabby hat in his politely. ‘When are you going to pay me?’ say they. And you
hand. This gentleman’s appearance would signify my debt, must lie, and beg money of another man, and cringe to a
the bill I had drawn; the spectre would compel me to leave fool seated on his strong-box, and receive sour looks in re-

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turn from these horse-leeches; a blow would be less hateful; then my debts sprang up everywhere, like grasshoppers, be-
you must put up with their crass ignorance and calculating fore my eyes. There were my debts, my clock, my armchairs;
morality. A debt is a feat of the imaginative that they cannot my debts were inlaid in the very furniture which I liked best
appreciate. A borrower is often carried away and over-mas- to use. These gentle inanimate slaves were to fall prey to the
tered by generous impulses; nothing great, nothing magnani- harpies of the Chatelet, were to be carried off by the broker’s
mous can move or dominate those who live for money, and men, and brutally thrown on the market. Ah, my property
recognize nothing but money. I myself held money in ab- was a part of myself!
horrence. “The sound of the door-bell rang through my heart; while
“Or a bill may undergo a final transformation into some it seemed to strike at me, where kings should be struck at—
meritorious old man with a family dependent upon him. in the head. Mine was a martyrdom, without heaven for its
My creditor might be a living picture for Greuze, a paralytic reward. For a magnanimous nature, debt is a hell, and a hell,
with his children round him, a soldier’s widow, holding out moreover, with sheriff’s officers and brokers in it. An undis-
beseeching hands to me. Terrible creditors are these with charged debt is something mean and sordid; it is a begin-
whom we are forced to sympathize, and when their claims ning of knavery; it is something worse, it is a lie; it prepares
are satisfied we owe them a further debt of assistance. the way for crime, and brings together the planks for the
“The night before the bills fell due, I lay down with the scaffold. My bills were protested. Three days afterwards I
false calm of those who sleep before their approaching ex- met them, and this is how it happened.
ecution, or with a duel in prospect, rocked as they are by “A speculator came, offering to buy the island in the Loire
delusive hopes. But when I woke, when I was cool and col- belonging to me, where my mother lay buried. I closed with
lected, when I found myself imprisoned in a banker’s port- him. When I went to his solicitor to sign the deeds, I felt a
folio, and floundering in statements covered with red ink — cavern-like chill in the dark office that made me shudder; it

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was the same cold dampness that had laid hold upon me at all that befell me in my extravagance, and in my wildest
the brink of my father’s grave. I looked upon this as an evil moments. It was my misfortune to be deceived in my fairest
omen. I seemed to see the shade of my mother, and to hear beliefs, to be punished by ingratitude for benefiting others,
her voice. What power was it that made my own name ring and to receive uncounted pleasures as the reward of my er-
vaguely in my ears, in spite of the clamor of bells? rors—a sinister doctrine, but a true one for the prodigal!
“The money paid down for my island, when all my debts “The contagious leprosy of Foedora’s vanity had taken hold
were discharged, left me in possession of two thousand francs. of me at last. I probed my soul, and found it cankered and
I could now have returned to the scholar’s tranquil life, it is rotten. I bore the marks of the devil’s claw upon my fore-
true; I could have gone back to my garret after having gained head. It was impossible to me thenceforward to do without
an experience of life, with my head filled with the results of the incessant agitation of a life fraught with danger at every
extensive observation, and with a certain sort of reputation moment, or to dispense with the execrable refinements of
attaching to me. But Foedora’s hold upon her victim was not luxury. If I had possessed millions, I should still have gambled,
relaxed. We often met. I compelled her admirers to sound reveled, and racketed about. I wished never to be alone with
my name in her ears, by dint of astonishing them with my myself, and I must have false friends and courtesans, wine
cleverness and success, with my horses and equipages. It all and good cheer to distract me. The ties that attach a man to
found her impassive and uninterested; so did an ugly phrase family life had been permanently broken for me. I had be-
of Rastignac’s, ‘He is killing himself for you.’ come a galley-slave of pleasure, and must accomplish my
“I charged the world at large with my revenge, but I was destiny of suicide. During the last days of my prosperity, I
not happy. While I was fathoming the miry depths of life, I spent every night in the most incredible excesses; but every
only recognized the more keenly at all times the happiness morning death cast me back upon life again. I would have
of reciprocal affection; it was a shadow that I followed through taken a conflagration with as little concern as any man with

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 Balzac
a life annuity. However, I at last found myself alone with a dible. Most of the sleepers started up with a cry, saw the
twenty-franc piece; I bethought me then of Rastignac’s luck— cause of the disturbance on his feet, tottering uncertainly,
“Eh, eh!—” Raphael exclaimed, interrupting himself, as and cursed him in concert for a drunken brawler.
he remembered the talisman and drew it from his pocket. “Silence!” shouted Raphael. “Back to your kennels, you
Perhaps he was wearied by the long day’s strain, and had no dogs! Emile, I have riches, I will give you Havana cigars!”
more strength left wherewith to pilot his head through the “I am listening,” the poet replied. “Death or Foedora! On
seas of wine and punch; or perhaps, exasperated by this sym- with you! That silky Foedora deceived you. Women are all
bol of his own existence, the torrent of his own eloquence daughters of Eve. There is nothing dramatic about that rig-
gradually overwhelmed him. Raphael became excited and marole of yours.”
elated and like one completely deprived of reason. “Ah, but you were sleeping, slyboots.”
“The devil take death!” he shouted, brandishing the skin; “I “No—’Death or Foedora!’—I have it!”
mean to live! I am rich, I have every virtue; nothing will with- “Wake up!” Raphael shouted, beating Emile with the piece
stand me. Who would not be generous, when everything is in of shagreen as if he meant to draw electric fluid out of it.
his power? Aha! Aha! I wished for two hundred thousand livres “Tonnerre!” said Emile, springing up and flinging his arms
a year, and I shall have them. Bow down before me, all of you, round Raphael; “my friend, remember the sort of women
wallowing on the carpets like swine in the mire! You all belong you are with.”
to me—a precious property truly! I am rich; I could buy you “I am a millionaire!”
all, even the deputy snoring over there. Scum of society, give “If you are not a millionaire, you are most certainly drunk.”
me your benediction! I am the Pope.” “Drunk with power. I can kill you!—Silence! I am Nero! I
Raphael’s vociferations had been hitherto drowned by a am Nebuchadnezzar!”
thorough-bass of snores, but now they became suddenly au- “But, Raphael, we are in queer company, and you ought to

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 The Magic Skin
keep quiet for the sake of your own dignity.” “All right,” he remarked; “yes, my friend, I am your valet.
“My life has been silent too long. I mean to have my re- But you are about to be editor-in-chief of a newspaper; so be
venge now on the world at large. I will not amuse myself by quiet, and behave properly, for my sake. Have you no regard
squandering paltry five-franc pieces; I will reproduce and for me?”
sum up my epoch by absorbing human lives, human minds, “Regard for you! You shall have Havana cigars, with this
and human souls. There are the treasures of pestilence—that bit of shagreen: always with this skin, this supreme bit of
is no paltry kind of wealth, is it? I will wrestle with fevers— shagreen. It is a cure for corns, and efficacious remedy. Do
yellow, blue, or green—with whole armies, with gibbets. I you suffer? I will remove them.”
can possess Foedora—Yet no, I do not want Foedora; she is “Never have I known you so senseless—”
a disease; I am dying of Foedora. I want to forget Foedora.” “Senseless, my friend? Not at all. This skin contracts when-
“If you keep on calling out like this, I shall take you into ever I form a wish—’tis a paradox. There is a Brahmin un-
the dining-room.” derneath it! The Brahmin must be a droll fellow, for our
“Do you see this skin? It is Solomon’s will. Solomon be- desires, look you, are bound to expand—”
longs to me—a little varlet of a king! Arabia is mine, Arabia “Yes, yes—”
Petraea to boot; and the universe, and you too, if I choose. If “I tell you—”
I choose— Ah! be careful. I can buy up all our journalist’s “Yes, yes, very true, I am quite of your opinion—our de-
shop; you shall be my valet. You shall be my valet, you shall sires expand—”
manage my newspaper. Valet! VALET, that is to say, free from “The skin, I tell you.”
aches and pains, because he has no brains.” “Yes.”
At the word, Emile carried Raphael off into the dining- “You don’t believe me. I know you, my friend; you are as
room. full of lies as a new-made king.”

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 Balzac
“How can you expect me to follow your drunken “Yes, my nursling of the press. You shall amuse me; you
maunderings?” shall drive the flies away from me. The friend of adversity
“I will bet you I can prove it. Let us measure it—” should be the friend of prosperity. So I will give you some
“Goodness! he will never get off to sleep,” exclaimed Emile, Hava—na—cig—”
as he watched Raphael rummaging busily in the dining-room. “Come, now, sleep. Sleep off your gold, you millionaire!”
Thanks to the peculiar clearness with which external ob- “You! sleep off your paragraphs! Good-night! Say good-
jects are sometimes projected on an inebriated brain, in sharp night to Nebuchadnezzar!—Love! Wine! France!—glory and
contrast to its own obscure imaginings, Valentin found an tr—treas—”
inkstand and a table-napkin, with the quickness of a mon- Very soon the snorings of the two friends were added to
key, repeating all the time: the music with which the rooms resounded—an ineffectual
“Let us measure it! Let us measure it!” concert! The lights went out one by one, their crystal sconces
“All right,” said Emile; “let us measure it!” cracking in the final flare. Night threw dark shadows over
The two friends spread out the table-napkin and laid the this prolonged revelry, in which Raphael’s narrative had been
Magic Skin upon it. As Emile’s hand appeared to be steadier a second orgy of speech, of words without ideas, of ideas for
than Raphael’s, he drew a line with pen and ink round the which words had often been lacking.
talisman, while his friend said: Towards noon, next day, the fair Aquilina bestirred her-
“I wished for an income of two hundred thousand livres, self. She yawned wearily. She had slept with her head upon a
didn’t I? Well, when that comes, you will observe a mighty painted velvet footstool, and her cheeks were mottled over
diminution of my chagrin.” by contact with the surface. Her movement awoke Euphrasia,
“Yes—now go to sleep. Shall I make you comfortable on who suddenly sprang up with a hoarse cry; her pretty face,
that sofa? Now then, are you all right?” that had been so fresh and fair in the evening, was sallow

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 The Magic Skin
now and pallid; she looked like a candidate for the hospital. low eyes with the dark circles round them seemed to see
The rest awoke also by degrees, with portentous groanings, to nothing; they were dull with wine and stupefied with heavy
feel themselves over in every stiffened limb, and to experience slumbers that had been exhausting rather than refreshing.
the infinite varieties of weariness that weighed upon them. There was an indescribable ferocious and stolid bestiality
A servant came in to throw back the shutters and open the about these haggard faces, where bare physical appetite ap-
windows. There they all stood, brought back to conscious- peared shorn of all the poetical illusion with which the intel-
ness by the warm rays of sunlight that shone upon the sleep- lect invests it. Even these fearless champions, accustomed to
ers’ heads. Their movements during slumber had disordered measure themselves with excess, were struck with horror at
the elaborately arranged hair and toilettes of the women. this awakening of vice, stripped of its disguises, at being con-
They presented a ghastly spectacle in the bright daylight. fronted thus with sin, the skeleton in rags, lifeless and hol-
Their hair fell ungracefully about them; their eyes, lately so low, bereft of the sophistries of the intellect and the enchant-
brilliant, were heavy and dim; the expression of their faces ments of luxury. Artists and courtesans scrutinized in silence
was entirely changed. The sickly hues, which daylight brings and with haggard glances the surrounding disorder, the rooms
out so strongly, were frightful. An olive tint had crept over where everything had been laid waste, at the havoc wrought
the lymphatic faces, so fair and soft when in repose; the dainty by heated passions.
red lips were grown pale and dry, and bore tokens of the Demoniac laughter broke out when Taillefer, catching the
degradation of excess. Each disowned his mistress of the night smothered murmurs of his guests, tried to greet them with a
before; the women looked wan and discolored, like flowers grin. His darkly flushed, perspiring countenance loomed
trampled under foot by a passing procession. upon this pandemonium, like the image of a crime that knows
The men who scorned them looked even more horrible. no remorse (see L’Auberge Rouge). The picture was com-
Those human faces would have made you shudder. The hol- plete. A picture of a foul life in the midst of luxury, a hideous

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 Balzac
mixture of the pomp and squalor of humanity; an awaken- and their meal as simple.
ing after the frenzy of Debauch has crushed and squeezed all An artist mused upon his quiet studio, on his statue in its
the fruits of life in her strong hands, till nothing but un- severe beauty, and the graceful model who was waiting for
sightly refuse is left to her, and lies in which she believes no him. A young man recollected a lawsuit on which the for-
longer. You might have thought of Death gloating over a tunes of a family hung, and an important transaction that
family stricken with the plague. needed his presence. The scholar regretted his study and that
The sweet scents and dazzling lights, the mirth and the noble work that called for him. Emile appeared just then as
excitement were all no more; disgust with its nauseous sen- smiling, blooming, and fresh as the smartest assistant in a
sations and searching philosophy was there instead. The sun fashionable shop.
shone in like truth, the pure outer air was like virtue; in con- “You are all as ugly as bailiffs. You won’t be fit for anything
trast with the heated atmosphere, heavy with the fumes of to-day, so this day is lost, and I vote for breakfast.”
the previous night of revelry. At this Taillefer went out to give some orders. The women
Accustomed as they were to their life, many of the girls went languidly up to the mirrors to set their toilettes in or-
thought of other days and other wakings; pure and innocent der. Each one shook herself. The wilder sort lectured the
days when they looked out and saw the roses and honey- steadier ones. The courtesans made fun of those who looked
suckle about the casement, and the fresh countryside with- unable to continue the boisterous festivity; but these wan
out enraptured by the glad music of the skylark; while earth forms revived all at once, stood in groups, and talked and
lay in mists, lighted by the dawn, and in all the glittering smiled. Some servants quickly and adroitly set the furniture
radiance of dew. Others imagined the family breakfast, the and everything else in its place, and a magnificent breakfast
father and children round the table, the innocent laughter, was got ready.
the unspeakable charm that pervaded it all, the simple hearts The guests hurried into the dining-room. Everything there

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 The Magic Skin
bore indelible marks of yesterday’s excess, it is true, but there indicating the breakfast; “you can jot down the numbers,
were at any rate some traces of ordinary, rational existence, and initial off all the dishes.”
such traces as may be found in a sick man’s dying struggles. “There is no will to make here, but contracts of marriage
And so the revelry was laid away and buried, like carnival of there may be, perhaps,” said the scholar, who had made a
a Shrove Tuesday, by masks wearied out with dancing, drunk satisfactory arrangement for the first time in twelve months.
with drunkenness, and quite ready to be persuaded of the “Oh! Oh!”
pleasures of lassitude, lest they should be forced to admit “Ah! Ah!”
their exhaustion. “One moment,” cried Cardot, fairly deafened by a chorus
As soon as these bold spirits surrounded the capitalist’s of wretched jokes. “I came here on serious business. I am
breakfast-table, Cardot appeared. He had left the rest to make bringing six millions for one of you.” (Dead silence.) “Mon-
a night of it after the dinner, and finished the evening after sieur,” he went on, turning to Raphael, who at the moment
his own fashion in the retirement of domestic life. Just now was unceremoniously wiping his eyes on a corner of the table-
a sweet smile wandered over his features. He seemed to have napkin, “was not your mother a Mlle. O’Flaharty?”
a presentiment that there would be some inheritance to “Yes,” said Raphael mechanically enough; “Barbara Marie.”
sample and divide, involving inventories and engrossing; an “Have you your certificate of birth about you,” Cardot
inheritance rich in fees and deeds to draw up, and some- went on, “and Mme. de Valentin’s as well?”
thing as juicy as the trembling fillet of beef in which their “I believe so.”
host had just plunged his knife. “Very well then, monsieur; you are the sole heir of Major
“Oh, ho! we are to have breakfast in the presence of a no- O’Flaharty, who died in August 1828 at Calcutta.”
tary,” cried Cursy. “An incalcuttable fortune,” said the critic.
“You have come here just at the right time,” said the banker, “The Major having bequeathed several amounts to public

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institutions in his will, the French Government sent in a “Why, what is the matter with him?’ Taillefer cried. “He
claim for the remainder to the East India Company,” the comes by his fortune very cheaply.”
notary continued. “The estate is clear and ready to be trans- “Soutiens-le Chatillon!” said Bixiou to Emile. “The joy
ferred at this moment. I have been looking in vain for the will kill him.”
heirs and assigns of Mlle. Barbara Marie O’Flaharty for a A ghastly white hue overspread every line of the wan fea-
fortnight past, when yesterday at dinner—” tures of the heir-at-law. His face was drawn, every outline grew
Just then Raphael suddenly staggered to his feet; he looked haggard; the hollows in his livid countenance grew deeper,
like a man who has just received a blow. Acclamation took and his eyes were fixed and staring. He was facing Death.
the form of silence, for stifled envy had been the first feeling The opulent banker, surrounded by faded women, and faces
in every breast, and all eyes devoured him like flames. Then with satiety written on them, the enjoyment that had reached
a murmur rose, and grew like the voice of a discontented the pitch of agony, was a living illustration of his own life.
audience, or the first mutterings of a riot, as everybody made Raphael looked thrice at the talisman, which lay passively
some comment on this news of great wealth brought by the within the merciless outlines on the table-napkin; he tried
notary. not to believe it, but his incredulity vanished utterly before
This abrupt subservience of fate brought Raphael thor- the light of an inner presentiment. The whole world was his;
oughly to his senses. He immediately spread out the table- he could have all things, but the will to possess them was
napkin with which he had lately taken the measure of the utterly extinct. Like a traveler in the midst of the desert, with
piece of shagreen. He heeded nothing as he laid the talisman but a little water left to quench his thirst, he must measure
upon it, and shuddered involuntarily at the sight of a slight his life by the draughts he took of it. He saw what every
difference between the present size of the skin and the out- desire of his must cost him in the days of his life. He be-
line traced upon the linen. lieved in the powers of the Magic Skin at last, he listened to

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every breath he drew; he felt ill already; he asked himself: Sunday on the green sward, and understanding never a word
“Am I not consumptive? Did not my mother die of a lung of the rector’s sermon. The actual scene that lay before him,
complaint?” the gilded furniture, the courtesans, the feast itself, and the
“Aha, Raphael! what fun you will have! What will you give surrounding splendors, seemed to catch him by the throat
me?” asked Aquilina. and made him cough.
“Here’s to the death of his uncle, Major O’Flaharty! There “Do you wish for some asparagus?” the banker cried.
is a man for you.” “I WISH FOR NOTHING!” thundered Raphael.
“He will be a peer of France.” “Bravo!” Taillefer exclaimed; “you understand your posi-
“Pooh! what is a peer of France since July?” said the ama- tion; a fortune confers the privilege of being impertinent.
teur critic. You are one of us. Gentlemen, let us drink to the might of
“Are you going to take a box at the Bouffons?” gold! M. Valentin here, six times a millionaire, has become a
“You are going to treat us all, I hope?” put in Bixiou. power. He is a king, like all the rich; everything is at his
“A man of his sort will be sure to do things in style,” said disposal, everything lies under his feet. From this time forth
Emile. the axiom that ‘all Frenchmen are alike in the eyes of the
The hurrah set up by the jovial assembly rang in Valentin’s law,’ is for him a fib at the head of the Constitutional Char-
ears, but he could not grasp the sense of a single word. Vague ter. He is not going to obey the law—the law is going to
thoughts crossed him of the Breton peasant’s life of mechani- obey him. There are neither scaffolds nor executioners for
cal labor, without a wish of any kind; he pictured him bur- millionaires.”
dened with a family, tilling the soil, living on buckwheat “Yes, there are,” said Raphael; “they are their own execu-
meal, drinking cider out of a pitcher, believing in the Virgin tioners.”
and the King, taking the sacrament at Easter, dancing of a “Here is another victim of prejudices!” cried the banker.

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“Let us drink!” Raphael said, putting the talisman into his pocket. “Lower the funds!” shouted the banker.
“What are you doing?” said Emile, checking his move- These phrases flew about like the last discharge of rockets
ment. “Gentlemen,” he added, addressing the company, who at the end of a display of fireworks; and were uttered, per-
were rather taken aback by Raphael’s behavior, “you must haps, more in earnest than in jest.
know that our friend Valentin here—what am I saying?—I “My good friend,” Emile said solemnly, “I shall be quite
mean my Lord Marquis de Valentin—is in the possession of satisfied with an income of two hundred thousand livres.
a secret for obtaining wealth. His wishes are fulfilled as soon Please to set about it at once.”
as he knows them. He will make us all rich together, or he is “Do you not know the cost, Emile?” asked Raphael.
a flunkey, and devoid of all decent feeling.” “A nice excuse!” the poet cried; “ought we not to sacrifice
“Oh, Raphael dear, I should like a set of pearl ornaments!” ourselves for our friends?”
Euphrasia exclaimed. “I have almost a mind to wish that you all were dead,”
“If he has any gratitude in him, he will give me a couple of Valentin made answer, with a dark, inscrutable look at his
carriages with fast steppers,” said Aquilina. boon companions.
“Wish for a hundred thousand a year for me!” “Dying people are frightfully cruel,” said Emile, laughing.
“Indian shawls!” “You are rich now,” he went on gravely; “very well, I will give
“Pay my debts!” you two months at most before you grow vilely selfish. You
“Send an apoplexy to my uncle, the old stick!” are so dense already that you cannot understand a joke. You
“Ten thousand a year in the funds, and I’ll cry quits with have only to go a little further to believe in your Magic Skin.”
you, Raphael!” Raphael kept silent, fearing the banter of the company;
“Deeds of gift and no mistake,” was the notary’s comment. but he drank immoderately, trying to drown in intoxication
“He ought, at least, to rid me of the gout!” the recollection of his fatal power.

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III Swiss in livery.
“My Lord the Marquis sees nobody,” said the servant, swal-
THE AGONY lowing a huge morsel that he had just dipped in a large bowl
of coffee.
IN THE EARLY DAYS of December an old man of some seventy “There is his carriage,” said the elderly stranger, pointing
years of age pursued his way along the Rue de Varenne, in to a fine equipage that stood under the wooden canopy that
spite of the falling rain. He peered up at the door of each sheltered the steps before the house, in place of a striped
house, trying to discover the address of the Marquis Raphael linen awning. “He is going out; I will wait for him.”
de Valentin, in a simple, childlike fashion, and with the ab- “Then you might wait here till to-morrow morning, old
stracted look peculiar to philosophers. His face plainly showed boy,” said the Swiss. “A carriage is always waiting for mon-
traces of a struggle between a heavy mortification and an sieur. Please to go away. If I were to let any stranger come
authoritative nature; his long, gray hair hung in disorder about into the house without orders, I should lose an income of six
a face like a piece of parchment shriveling in the fire. If a hundred francs.”
painter had come upon this curious character, he would, no A tall old man, in a costume not unlike that of a subordi-
doubt, have transferred him to his sketchbook on his return, nate in the Civil Service, came out of the vestibule and hur-
a thin, bony figure, clad in black, and have inscribed be- ried part of the way down the steps, while he made a survey
neath it: “Classical poet in search of a rhyme.” When he had of the astonished elderly applicant for admission.
identified the number that had been given to him, this rein- “What is more, here is M. Jonathan,” the Swiss remarked;
carnation of Rollin knocked meekly at the door of a splen- “speak to him.”
did mansion. Fellow-feeling of some kind, or curiosity, brought the two
“Is Monsieur Raphael in?” the worthy man inquired of the old men together in a central space in the great entrance-

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court. A few blades of grass were growing in the crevices of “But I am likewise his foster-father,” said the old man. “If
the pavement; a terrible silence reigned in that great house. your wife was his foster-mother, I fed him myself with the
The sight of Jonathan’s face would have made you long to milk of the Muses. He is my nursling, my child, carus alum-
understand the mystery that brooded over it, and that was nus! I formed his mind, cultivated his understanding, devel-
announced by the smallest trifles about the melancholy place. oped his genius, and, I venture to say it, to my own honor
When Raphael inherited his uncle’s vast estate, his first and glory. Is he not one of the most remarkable men of our
care had been to seek out the old and devoted servitor of epoch? He was one of my pupils in two lower forms, and in
whose affection he knew that he was secure. Jonathan had rhetoric. I am his professor.”
wept tears of joy at the sight of his young master, of whom “Ah, sir, then you are M. Porriquet?”
he thought he had taken a final farewell; and when the mar- “Exactly, sir, but—”
quis exalted him to the high office of steward, his happiness “Hush! hush!” Jonathan called to two underlings, whose
could not be surpassed. So old Jonathan became an interme- voices broke the monastic silence that shrouded the house.
diary power between Raphael and the world at large. He was “But is the Marquis ill, sir?” the professor continued.
the absolute disposer of his master’s fortune, the blind in- “My dear sir,” Jonathan replied, “Heaven only knows what
strument of an unknown will, and a sixth sense, as it were, is the matter with my master. You see, there are not a couple
by which the emotions of life were communicated to Raphael. of houses like ours anywhere in Paris. Do you understand?
“I should like to speak with M. Raphael, sir,” said the eld- Not two houses. Faith, that there are not. My Lord the Mar-
erly person to Jonathan, as he climbed up the steps some quis had this hotel purchased for him; it formerly belonged
way, into a shelter from the rain. to a duke and a peer of France; then he spent three hundred
“To speak with my Lord the Marquis?” the steward cried. thousand francs over furnishing it. That’s a good deal, you
“He scarcely speaks even to me, his foster-father!” know, three hundred thousand francs! But every room in

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the house is a perfect wonder. ‘Good,’ said I to myself when attend to, that I am well set to work! He reads the newspa-
I saw this magnificence; ‘it is just like it used to be in the pers, doesn’t he? Well, my instructions are to put them al-
time of my lord, his late grandfather; and the young marquis ways in the same place, on the same table. I always go at the
is going to entertain all Paris and the Court!’ Nothing of the same hour and shave him myself; and don’t I tremble! The
kind! My lord refused to see any one whatever. ’Tis a funny cook would forfeit the annuity of a thousand crowns that he
life that he leads, M. Porriquet, you understand. An is to come into after my lord’s death, if breakfast is not served
inconciliable life. He rises every day at the same time. I am inconciliably at ten o’clock precisely. The menus are drawn
the only person, you see, that may enter his room. I open all up for the whole year round, day after day. My Lord the
the shutters at seven o’clock, summer or winter. It is all ar- Marquis has not a thing to wish for. He has strawberries
ranged very oddly. As I come in I say to him: whenever there are any, and he has the earliest mackerel to
“‘You must get up and dress, my Lord Marquis.’ be had in Paris. The programme is printed every morning.
“Then he rises and dresses himself. I have to give him his He knows his dinner by rote. In the next place, he dresses
dressing-gown, and it is always after the same pattern, and himself at the same hour, in the same clothes, the same linen,
of the same material. I am obliged to replace it when it can that I always put on the same chair, you understand? I have
be used no longer, simply to save him the trouble of asking to see that he always has the same cloth; and if it should
for a new one. A queer fancy! As a matter of fact, he has a happen that his coat came to grief (a mere supposition), I
thousand francs to spend every day, and he does as he pleases, should have to replace it by another without saying a word
the dear child. And besides, I am so fond of him that if he about it to him. If it is fine, I go in and say to my master:
gave me a box on the ear on one side, I should hold out the “‘You ought to go out, sir.’
other to him! The most difficult things he will tell me to do, “He says Yes, or No. If he has a notion that he will go out,
and yet I do them, you know! He gives me a lot of trifles to he doesn’t wait for his horses; they are always ready harnessed;

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the coachman stops there inconciliably, whip in hand, just short, my master has not a single wish left; everything comes
as you see him out there. In the evening, after dinner, my in the twinkling of an eye, if he raises his hand, and instan-
master goes one day to the Opera, the other to the Ital—— ter. Quite right, too. If servants are not looked after, every-
no, he hasn’t yet gone to the Italiens, though, for I could not thing falls into confusion. You would never believe the lengths
find a box for him until yesterday. Then he comes in at eleven he goes about things. His rooms are all—what do you call
o’clock precisely, to go to bed. At any time in the day when it?—er—er—en suite. Very well; just suppose, now, that he
he has nothing to do, he reads—he is always reading, you opens his room door or the door of his study; presto! all the
see—it is a notion he has. My instructions are to read the other doors fly open of themselves by a patent contrivance;
Journal de la Librairie before he sees it, and to buy new books, and then he can go from one end of the house to the other
so that he finds them on his chimney-piece on the very day and not find a single door shut; which is all very nice and
that they are published. I have orders to go into his room pleasant and convenient for us great folk! But, on my word,
every hour or so, to look after the fire and everything else, it cost us a lot of money! And, after all, M. Porriquet, he said
and to see that he wants nothing. He gave me a little book, to me at last:
sir, to learn off by heart, with all my duties written in it—a “‘Jonathan, you will look after me as if I were a baby in
regular catechism! In summer I have to keep a cool and even long clothes,’ Yes, sir, ‘long clothes!’ those were his very words.
temperature with blocks of ice and at all seasons to put fresh ‘You will think of all my requirements for me.’ I am the
flowers all about. He is rich! He has a thousand francs to master, so to speak, and he is the servant, you understand?
spend every day; he can indulge his fancies! And he hadn’t The reason of it? Ah, my word, that is just what nobody on
even necessaries for so long, poor child! He doesn’t annoy earth knows but himself and God Almighty. It is quite
anybody; he is as good as gold; he never opens his mouth, inconciliable!”
for instance; the house and garden are absolutely silent. In “He is writing a poem!” exclaimed the old professor.

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 The Magic Skin
“You think he is writing a poem, sir? It’s a very absorbing were King of France—I mean the real old one. You could
affair, then! But, you know, I don’t think he is. He wants to not go in unless you forced the doors open and walked over
vergetate. Only yesterday he was looking at a tulip while he my body. But I will go and tell him you are here, M. Porriquet,
was dressing, and he said to me: and I will put it to him like this, ‘Ought he to come up?’
“‘There is my own life—I am vergetating, my poor And he will say Yes or No. I never say, ‘Do you wish?’ or
Jonathan.’ Now, some of them insist that that is monoma- ‘Will you?’ or ‘Do you want?’ Those words are scratched out
nia. It is inconciliable!” of the dictionary. He let out at me once with a ‘Do you want
“All this makes it very clear to me, Jonathan,” the profes- to kill me?’ he was so very angry.”
sor answered, with a magisterial solemnity that greatly im- Jonathan left the old schoolmaster in the vestibule, sign-
pressed the old servant, “that your master is absorbed in a ing to him to come no further, and soon returned with a
great work. He is deep in vast meditations, and has no wish favorable answer. He led the old gentleman through one mag-
to be distracted by the petty preoccupations of ordinary life. nificent room after another, where every door stood open.
A man of genius forgets everything among his intellectual At last Porriquet beheld his pupil at some distance seated
labors. One day the famous Newton—” beside the fire.
“Newton?—oh, ah! I don’t know the name,” said Jonathan. Raphael was reading the paper. He sat in an armchair
“Newton, a great geometrician,” Porriquet went on, “once wrapped in a dressing-gown with some large pattern on it.
sat for twenty-four hours leaning his elbow on the table; when The intense melancholy that preyed upon him could be dis-
he emerged from his musings, he was a day out in his reck- cerned in his languid posture and feeble frame; it was de-
oning, just as if he had been sleeping. I will go to see him, picted on his brow and white face; he looked like some plant
dear lad; I may perhaps be of some use to him.” bleached by darkness. There was a kind of effeminate grace
“Not for a moment!” Jonathan cried. “Not though you about him; the fancies peculiar to wealthy invalids were also

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noticeable. His hands were soft and white, like a pretty hoard; the look of a bound Prometheus, of the fallen Napo-
woman’s; he wore his fair hair, now grown scanty, curled leon of 1815, when he learned at the Elysee the strategical
about his temples with a refinement of vanity. blunder that his enemies had made, and asked for twenty-
The Greek cap that he wore was pulled to one side by the four hours of command in vain; or rather it was the same
weight of its tassel; too heavy for the light material of which look that Raphael had turned upon the Seine, or upon his
it was made. He had let the paper-knife fall at his feet, a last piece of gold at the gaming-table only a few months ago.
malachite blade with gold mounting, which he had used to He was submitting his intelligence and his will to the homely
cut the leaves of the book. The amber mouthpiece of a mag- common-sense of an old peasant whom fifty years of domes-
nificent Indian hookah lay on his knee; the enameled coils tic service had scarcely civilized. He had given up all the rights
lay like a serpent in the room, but he had forgotten to draw of life in order to live; he had despoiled his soul of all the
out its fresh perfume. And yet there was a complete contra- romance that lies in a wish; and almost rejoiced at thus be-
diction between the general feebleness of his young frame coming a sort of automaton. The better to struggle with the
and the blue eyes, where all his vitality seemed to dwell; an cruel power that he had challenged, he had followed Origen’s
extraordinary intelligence seemed to look out from them and example, and had maimed and chastened his imagination.
to grasp everything at once. The day after he had seen the diminution of the Magic
That expression was painful to see. Some would have read Skin, at his sudden accession of wealth, he happened to be at
despair in it, and others some inner conflict terrible as re- his notary’s house. A well-known physician had told them
morse. It was the inscrutable glance of helplessness that must quite seriously, at dessert, how a Swiss attacked by consump-
perforce consign its desires to the depths of its own heart; or tion had cured himself. The man had never spoken a word
of a miser enjoying in imagination all the pleasures that his for ten years, and had compelled himself to draw six breaths
money could procure for him, while he declines to lessen his only, every minute, in the close atmosphere of a cow-house,

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 The Magic Skin
adhering all the time to a regimen of exceedingly light diet. Porriquet; I have contributed an important page to science,
“I will be like that man,” thought Raphael to himself. He and have now bidden her farewell for ever. I scarcely know
wanted life at any price, and so he led the life of a machine where my manuscript is.”
in the midst of all the luxury around him. “The style is no doubt correct?” queried the schoolmaster.
The old professor confronted this youthful corpse and “You, I hope, would never have adopted the barbarous lan-
shuddered; there seemed something unnatural about the guage of the new school, which fancies it has worked such
meagre, enfeebled frame. In the Marquis, with his eager eyes wonders by discovering Ronsard!”
and careworn forehead, he could hardly recognize the fresh- “My work treats of physiology pure and simple.”
cheeked and rosy pupil with the active limbs, whom he re- “Oh, then, there is no more to be said,” the schoolmaster
membered. If the worthy classicist, sage critic, and general answered. “Grammar must yield to the exigencies of discov-
preserver of the traditions of correct taste had read Byron, he ery. Nevertheless, young man, a lucid and harmonious style—
would have thought that he had come on a Manfred when the diction of Massillon, of M. de Buffon, of the great
he looked to find Childe Harold. Racine—a classical style, in short, can never spoil anything—
“Good day, pere Porriquet,” said Raphael, pressing the old But, my friend,” the schoolmaster interrupted himself, “I
schoolmaster’s frozen fingers in his own damp ones; “how was forgetting the object of my visit, which concerns my
are you?” own interests.”
“I am very well,” replied the other, alarmed by the touch Too late Raphael recalled to mind the verbose eloquence
of that feverish hand. “But how about you?” and elegant circumlocutions which in a long professorial
“Oh, I am hoping to keep myself in health.” career had grown habitual to his old tutor, and almost re-
“You are engaged in some great work, no doubt?” gretted that he had admitted him; but just as he was about
“No,” Raphael answered. “Exegi monumemtum, pere to wish to see him safely outside, he promptly suppressed his

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secret desire with a stealthy glance at the Magic Skin. It hung former pupil’s interest with the new minister. He did not ask
there before him, fastened down upon some white material, to be reinstated, but only for a position at the head of some
surrounded by a red line accurately traced about its prophetic provincial school.
outlines. Since that fatal carouse, Raphael had stifled every Raphael had fallen a victim to unconquerable drowsiness
least whim, and had lived so as not to cause the slightest move- by the time that the worthy man’s monotonous voice ceased
ment in the terrible talisman. The Magic Skin was like a tiger to sound in his ears. Civility had compelled him to look at
with which he must live without exciting its ferocity. He bore the pale and unmoving eyes of the deliberate and tedious old
patiently, therefore, with the old schoolmaster’s prolixity. narrator, till he himself had reached stupefaction, magne-
Porriquet spent an hour in telling him about the persecu- tized in an inexplicable way by the power of inertia.
tions directed against him ever since the Revolution of July. “Well, my dear pere Porriquet,” he said, not very certain
The worthy man, having a liking for strong governments, what the question was to which he was replying, “but I can
had expressed the patriotic wish that grocers should be left do nothing for you, nothing at all. I wish very heartily that
to their counters, statesmen to the management of public you may succeed—”
business, advocates to the Palais de Justice, and peers of France All at once, without seeing the change wrought on the old
to the Luxembourg; but one of the popularity-seeking min- man’s sallow and wrinkled brow by these conventional
isters of the Citizen King had ousted him from his chair, on phrases, full of indifference and selfishness, Raphael sprang
an accusation of Carlism, and the old man now found him- to his feet like a startled roebuck. He saw a thin white line
self without pension or post, and with no bread to eat. As he between the black piece of hide and the red tracing about it,
played the part of guardian angel to a poor nephew, for whose and gave a cry so fearful that the poor professor was fright-
schooling at Saint Sulpice he was paying, he came less on his ened by it.
own account than for his adopted child’s sake, to entreat his “Old fool! Go!” he cried. “You will be appointed as head-

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 The Magic Skin
master! Couldn’t you have asked me for an annuity of a thou- armchair, a kind of reaction took place in him, the tears flowed
sand crowns rather than a murderous wish? Your visit would fast from his angry eyes.
have cost me nothing. There are a hundred thousand situa- “Oh, my life!” he cried, “that fair life of mine. Never to
tions to be had in France, but I have only one life. A man’s know a kindly thought again, to love no more; nothing is
life is worth more than all the situations in the world.— left to me!”
Jonathan!” He turned to the professor and went on in a gentle voice—
Jonathan appeared. ”The harm is done, my old friend. Your services have been
“This is your doing, double-distilled idiot! What made you well repaid; and my misfortune has at any rate contributed
suggest that I should see M. Porriquet?” and he pointed to to the welfare of a good and worthy man.”
the old man, who was petrified with fright. “Did I put my- His tones betrayed so much feeling that the almost unin-
self in your hands for you to tear me in pieces? You have just telligible words drew tears from the two old men, such tears
shortened my life by ten years! Another blunder of this kind, as are shed over some pathetic song in a foreign tongue.
and you will lay me where I have laid my father. Would I not “He is epileptic,” muttered Porriquet.
far rather have possessed the beautiful Foedora? And I have “I understand your kind intentions, my friend,” Raphael
obliged that old hulk instead—that rag of humanity! I had answered gently. “You would make excuses for me. Ill-health
money enough for him. And, moreover, if all the Porriquets cannot be helped, but ingratitude is a grievous fault. Leave
in the world were dying of hunger, what is that to me?” me now,” he added. “To-morrow or the next day, or possibly
Raphael’s face was white with anger; a slight froth marked to-night, you will receive your appointment; Resistance has
his trembling lips; there was a savage gleam in his eyes. The triumphed over Motion. Farewell.”
two elders shook with terror in his presence like two chil- The old schoolmaster went away, full of keen apprehen-
dren at the sight of a snake. The young man fell back in his sion as to Valentin’s sanity. A thrill of horror ran through

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him; there had been something supernatural, he thought, in Do you see that splendid equipage, a brougham painted a
the scene he had passed through. He could hardly believe dark brown color, but with the arms of an ancient and noble
his own impressions, and questioned them like one awak- family shining from the panels? As it rolls past, all the shop-
ened from a painful dream. girls admire it, and look longingly at the yellow satin lining,
“Now attend to me, Jonathan,” said the young man to his the rugs from la Savonnerie, the daintiness and freshness of
old servant. “Try to understand the charge confided to you.” every detail, the silken cushions and tightly-fitting glass win-
“Yes, my Lord Marquis.” dows. Two liveried footmen are mounted behind this aristo-
“I am as a man outlawed from humanity.” cratic carriage; and within, a head lies back among the silken
“Yes, my Lord Marquis.” cushions, the feverish face and hollow eyes of Raphael, mel-
“All the pleasures of life disport themselves round my bed ancholy and sad. Emblem of the doom of wealth! He flies
of death, and dance about me like fair women; but if I beckon across Paris like a rocket, and reaches the peristyle of the
to them, I must die. Death always confronts me. You must Theatre Favart. The passers-by make way for him; the two
be the barrier between the world and me.” footmen help him to alight, an envious crowd looking on
“Yes, my Lord Marquis,” said the old servant, wiping the the while.
drops of perspiration from his wrinkled forehead. “But if “What has that fellow done to be so rich?” asks a poor law-
you don’t wish to see pretty women, how will you manage at student, who cannot listen to the magical music of Rossini
the Italiens this evening? An English family is returning to for lack of a five-franc piece.
London, and I have taken their box for the rest of the sea- Raphael walked slowly along the gangway; he expected no
son, and it is in a splendid position—superb; in the first row. enjoyment from these pleasures he had once coveted so ea-
Raphael, deep in his own deep musings, paid no attention gerly. In the interval before the second act of Semiramide he
to him. walked up and down in the lobby, and along the corridors,

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leaving his box, which he had not yet entered, to look after the protuberant forehead and pointed chin, a face not un-
itself. The instinct of property was dead within him already. like those grotesque wooden figures that German herdsmen
Like all invalids, he thought of nothing but his own suffer- carve in their spare moments.
ings. He was leaning against the chimney-piece in the green- An attentive observer looking from Raphael to this elderly
room. A group had gathered about it of dandies, young and Adonis would have remarked a young man’s eyes set in a
old, of ministers, of peers without peerages, and peerages with- mask of age, in the case of the Marquis, and in the other case
out peers, for so the Revolution of July had ordered matters. the dim eyes of age peering forth from behind a mask of
Among a host of adventurers and journalists, in fact, Raphael youth. Valentin tried to recollect when and where he had
beheld a strange, unearthly figure a few paces away among the seen this little old man before. He was thin, fastidiously
crowd. He went towards this grotesque object to see it better, cravatted, booted and spurred like one-and-twenty; he crossed
half-closing his eyes with exceeding superciliousness. his arms and clinked his spurs as if he possessed all the wan-
“What a wonderful bit of painting!” he said to himself. ton energy of youth. He seemed to move about without con-
The stranger’s hair and eyebrows and a Mazarin tuft on the straint or difficulty. He had carefully buttoned up his fash-
chin had been dyed black, but the result was a spurious, glossy, ionable coat, which disguised his powerful, elderly frame,
purple tint that varied its hues according to the light; the and gave him the appearance of an antiquated coxcomb who
hair had been too white, no doubt, to take the preparation. still follows the fashions.
Anxiety and cunning were depicted in the narrow, insignifi- For Raphael this animated puppet possessed all the inter-
cant face, with its wrinkles incrusted by thick layers of red est of an apparition. He gazed at it as if it had been some
and white paint. This red enamel, lacking on some portions smoke-begrimed Rembrandt, recently restored and newly
of his face, strongly brought out his natural feebleness and framed. This idea found him a clue to the truth among his
livid hues. It was impossible not to smile at this visage with confused recollections; he recognized the dealer in antiqui-

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ties, the man to whom he owed his calamities! sight he beheld, not the Virgin, but a very handsome young
A noiseless laugh broke just then from the fantastical per- person. The execrable Euphrasia, in all the splendor of her
sonage, straightening the line of his lips that stretched across toilette, with its orient pearls, had come thither, impatient
a row of artificial teeth. That laugh brought out, for Raphael’s for her ardent, elderly admirer. She was insolently exhibiting
heated fancy, a strong resemblance between the man before herself with her defiant face and glittering eyes to an envious
him and the type of head that painters have assigned to crowd of stockbrokers, a visible testimony to the inexhaust-
Goethe’s Mephistopheles. A crowd of superstitious thoughts ible wealth that the old dealer permitted her to squander.
entered Raphael’s sceptical mind; he was convinced of the Raphael recollected the mocking wish with which he had
powers of the devil and of all the sorcerer’s enchantments accepted the old man’s luckless gift, and tasted all the sweets
embodied in mediaeval tradition, and since worked up by of revenge when he beheld the spectacle of sublime wisdom
poets. Shrinking in horror from the destiny of Faust, he fallen to such a depth as this, wisdom for which such hu-
prayed for the protection of Heaven with all the ardent faith miliation had seemed a thing impossible. The centenarian
of a dying man in God and the Virgin. A clear, bright radi- greeted Euphrasia with a ghastly smile, receiving her hon-
ance seemed to give him a glimpse of the heaven of Michael eyed words in reply. He offered her his emaciated arm, and
Angelo or of Raphael of Urbino: a venerable white-bearded went twice or thrice round the greenroom with her; the en-
man, a beautiful woman seated in an aureole above the clouds vious glances and compliments with which the crowd re-
and winged cherub heads. Now he had grasped and received ceived his mistress delighted him; he did not see the scornful
the meaning of those imaginative, almost human creations; smiles, nor hear the caustic comments to which he gave rise.
they seemed to explain what had happened to him, to leave “In what cemetery did this young ghoul unearth that corpse
him yet one hope. of hers?” asked a dandy of the Romantic faction.
But when the greenroom of the Italiens returned upon his Euphrasia began to smile. The speaker was a slender, fair-

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haired youth, with bright blue eyes, and a moustache. His her; she asked him for the lorgnette she had given him to
short dress coat, hat tilted over one ear, and sharp tongue, all carry. Raphael knew the despotism to which his successor
denoted the species. had resigned himself, in her gestures, and in the way she
“How many old men,” said Raphael to himself, “bring an treated her companion. He was also under the spell no doubt,
upright, virtuous, and hard-working life to a close in folly! another dupe beating with all the might of a real affection
His feet are cold already, and he is making love.” against the woman’s cold calculations, enduring all the tor-
“Well, sir,” exclaimed Valentin, stopping the merchant’s tures from which Valentin had luckily freed himself.
progress, while he stared hard at Euphrasia, “have you quite Foedora’s face lighted up with indescribable joy. After di-
forgotten the stringent maxims of your philosophy?” recting her lorgnette upon every box in turn, to make a rapid
“Ah, I am as happy now as a young man,” said the other, survey of all the dresses, she was conscious that by her toilette
in a cracked voice. “I used to look at existence from a wrong and her beauty she had eclipsed the loveliest and best-dressed
standpoint. One hour of love has a whole life in it.” women in Paris. She laughed to show her white teeth; her
The playgoers heard the bell ring, and left the greenroom head with its wreath of flowers was never still, in her quest of
to take their places again. Raphael and the old merchant admiration. Her glances went from one box to another, as she
separated. As he entered his box, the Marquis saw Foedora diverted herself with the awkward way in which a Russian
sitting exactly opposite to him on the other side of the the- princess wore her bonnet, or over the utter failure of a bonnet
atre. The Countess had probably only just come, for she was with which a banker’s daughter had disfigured herself.
just flinging off her scarf to leave her throat uncovered, and All at once she met Raphael’s steady gaze and turned pale,
was occupied with going through all the indescribable aghast at the intolerable contempt in her rejected lover’s eyes.
manoeuvres of a coquette arranging herself. All eyes were Not one of her exiled suitors had failed to own her power
turned upon her. A young peer of France had come with over them; Valentin alone was proof against her attractions.

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A power that can be defied with impunity is drawing to its stranger lady. The applause of young and old was so pro-
end. This axiom is as deeply engraved on the heart of woman longed, that when the orchestra began, the musicians turned
as in the minds of kings. In Raphael, therefore, Foedora saw to the audience to request silence, and then they themselves
the deathblow of her influence and her ability to please. An joined in the plaudits and swelled the confusion. Excited
epigram of his, made at the Opera the day before, was al- talk began in every box, every woman equipped herself with
ready known in the salons of Paris. The biting edge of that an opera glass, elderly men grew young again, and polished
terrible speech had already given the Countess an incurable the glasses of their lorgnettes with their gloves. The enthusi-
wound. We know how to cauterize a wound, but we know asm subsided by degrees, the stage echoed with the voices of
of no treatment as yet for the stab of a phrase. As every other the singers, and order reigned as before. The aristocratic sec-
woman in the house looked by turns at her and at the Mar- tion, ashamed of having yielded to a spontaneous feeling,
quis, Foedora would have consigned them all to the oubliettes again assumed their wonted politely frigid manner. The well-
of some Bastille; for in spite of her capacity for dissimulation, to-do dislike to be astonished at anything; at the first sight
her discomfiture was discerned by her rivals. Her unfailing of a beautiful thing it becomes their duty to discover the
consolation had slipped from her at last. The delicious thought, defect in it which absolves them from admiring it,—the feel-
“I am the most beautiful,” the thought that at all times had ing of all ordinary minds. Yet a few still remained motionless
soothed every mortification, had turned into a lie. and heedless of the music, artlessly absorbed in the delight
At the opening of the second act a woman took up her of watching Raphael’s neighbor.
position not very far from Raphael, in a box that had been Valentin noticed Taillefer’s mean, obnoxious countenance
empty hitherto. A murmur of admiration went up from the by Aquilina’s side in a lower box, and received an approving
whole house. In that sea of human faces there was a move- smirk from him. Then he saw Emile, who seemed to say
ment of every living wave; all eyes were turned upon the from where he stood in the orchestra, “Just look at that lovely

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creature there, close beside you!” Lastly, he saw Rastignac, three-quarter profile upon the singers on the stage, as if she
with Mme. de Nucingen and her daughter, twisting his gloves were sitting to a painter. These two people looked like two
like a man in despair, because he was tethered to his place, estranged lovers still sulking, still turning their backs upon
and could not leave it to go any nearer to the unknown fair each other, who will go into each other’s arms at the first
divinity. tender word.
Raphael’s life depended upon a covenant that he had made Now and again his neighbor’s ostrich feathers or her hair
with himself, and had hitherto kept sacred. He would give came in contact with Raphael’s head, giving him a pleasur-
no special heed to any woman whatever; and the better to able thrill, against which he sternly fought. In a little while
guard against temptation, he used a cunningly contrived he felt the touch of the soft frill of lace that went round her
opera-glass which destroyed the harmony of the fairest fea- dress; he could hear the gracious sounds of the folds of her
tures by hideous distortions. He had not recovered from the dress itself, light rustling noises full of enchantment; he could
terror that had seized on him in the morning when, at a even feel her movements as she breathed; with the gentle stir
mere expression of civility, the Magic Skin had contracted so thus imparted to her form and to her draperies, it seemed to
abruptly. So Raphael was determined not to turn his face in Raphael that all her being was suddenly communicated to
the direction of his neighbor. He sat imperturbable as a duch- him in an electric spark. The lace and tulle that caressed him
ess with his back against the corner of the box, thereby shut- imparted the delicious warmth of her bare, white shoulders.
ting out half of his neighbor’s view of the stage, appearing to By a freak in the ordering of things, these two creatures, kept
disregard her, and even to be unaware that a pretty woman apart by social conventions, with the abysses of death be-
sat there just behind him. tween them, breathed together and perhaps thought of one
His neighbor copied Valentin’s position exactly; she leaned another. Finally, the subtle perfume of aloes completed the
her elbow on the edge of her box and turned her face in work of Raphael’s intoxication. Opposition heated his imagi-

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nation, and his fancy, become the wilder for the limits im- able to understand a single phrase of the music, and feeling
posed upon it, sketched a woman for him in outlines of fire. stifled in the theatre, he went out, and returned home with a
He turned abruptly, the stranger made a similar movement, full heart.
startled no doubt at being brought in contact with a stranger; “Jonathan,” he said to the old servant, as soon as he lay in
and they remained face to face, each with the same thought. bed, “give me half a drop of laudanum on a piece of sugar,
“Pauline!” and don’t wake me to-morrow till twenty minutes to twelve.”
“M. Raphael!” “I want Pauline to love me!” he cried next morning, look-
Each surveyed the other, both of them petrified with as- ing at the talisman the while in unspeakable anguish.
tonishment. Raphael noticed Pauline’s daintily simple cos- The skin did not move in the least; it seemed to have lost
tume. A woman’s experienced eyes would have discerned and its power to shrink; doubtless it could not fulfil a wish ful-
admired the outlines beneath the modest gauze folds of her filled already.
bodice and the lily whiteness of her throat. And then her “Ah!” exclaimed Raphael, feeling as if a mantle of lead had
more than mortal clearness of soul, her maidenly modesty, fallen away, which he had worn ever since the day when the
her graceful bearing, all were unchanged. Her sleeve was talisman had been given to him; “so you are playing me false,
quivering with agitation, for the beating of her heart was you are not obeying me, the pact is broken! I am free; I shall
shaking her whole frame. live. Then was it all a wretched joke?” But he did not dare to
“Come to the Hotel de Saint-Quentin to-morrow for your believe in his own thought as he uttered it.
papers,” she said. “I will be there at noon. Be punctual.” He dressed himself as simply as had formerly been his wont,
She rose hastily, and disappeared. Raphael thought of fol- and set out on foot for his old lodging, trying to go back in
lowing Pauline, feared to compromise her, and stayed. He fancy to the happy days when he abandoned himself with-
looked at Foedora; she seemed to him positively ugly. Un- out peril to vehement desires, the days when he had not yet

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condemned all human enjoyment. As he walked he beheld Quartier Saint-Jacques if she liked. She gave me her base-
Pauline—not the Pauline of the Hotel Saint-Quentin, but ment room for nothing, and the remainder of her lease. Ah,
the Pauline of last evening. Here was the accomplished mis- she’s a kind woman all the same; she is no more proud to-
tress he had so often dreamed of, the intelligent young girl day than she was yesterday.”
with the loving nature and artistic temperament, who un- Raphael hurried up the staircase to his garret; as he reached
derstood poets, who understood poetry, and lived in luxuri- the last few steps he heard the sounds of a piano. Pauline was
ous surroundings. Here, in short, was Foedora, gifted with a there, simply dressed in a cotton gown, but the way that it
great soul; or Pauline become a countess, and twice a mil- was made, like the gloves, hat, and shawl that she had thrown
lionaire, as Foedora had been. When he reached the worn carelessly upon the bed, revealed a change of fortune.
threshold, and stood upon the broken step at the door, where “Ah, there you are!” cried Pauline, turning her head, and
in the old days he had had so many desperate thoughts, an rising with unconcealed delight.
old woman came out of the room within and spoke to him. Raphael went to sit beside her, flushed, confused, and
“You are M. Raphael de Valentin, are you not?” happy; he looked at her in silence.
“Yes, good mother,” he replied. “Why did you leave us then?” she asked, dropping her eyes
“You know your old room then,” she replied; “you are ex- as the flush deepened on his face. “What became of you?”
pected up there.” “Ah, I have been very miserable, Pauline; I am very miser-
“Does Mme. Gaudin still own the house?” Raphael asked. able still.”
“Oh no, sir. Mme. Gaudin is a baroness now. She lives in “Alas!” she said, filled with pitying tenderness. “I guessed
a fine house of her own on the other side of the river. Her your fate yesterday when I saw you so well dressed, and ap-
husband has come back. My goodness, he brought back thou- parently so wealthy; but in reality? Eh, M. Raphael, is it as it
sands and thousands. They say she could buy up all the always used to be with you?”

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Valentin could not restrain the tears that sprang to his eyes. They understood one another—in that close embrace, in
“Pauline,” he exclaimed, “I—” the unalloyed and sacred fervor of that one kiss without an
He went no further, love sparkled in his eyes, and his emo- afterthought—the first kiss by which two souls take posses-
tion overflowed his face. sion of each other.
“Oh, he loves me! he loves me!” cried Pauline. “Ah, I will not leave you any more,” said Pauline, falling
Raphael felt himself unable to say one word; he bent his back in her chair. “I do not know how I come to be so bold!”
head. The young girl took his hand at this; she pressed it as she added, blushing.
she said, half sobbing and half laughing:— “Bold, my Pauline? Do not fear it. It is love, love true and
“Rich, rich, happy and rich! Your Pauline is rich. But I? deep and everlasting like my own, is it not?”
Oh, I ought to be very poor to-day. I have said, times with- “Speak!” she cried. “Go on speaking, so long your lips have
out number, that I would give all the wealth upon this earth been dumb for me.”
for those words, ‘He loves me!’ O my Raphael! I have mil- “Then you have loved me all along?”
lions. You like luxury, you will be glad; but you must love “Loved you? Mon Dieu! How often I have wept here, set-
me and my heart besides, for there is so much love for you in ting your room straight, and grieving for your poverty and
my heart. You don’t know? My father has come back. I am a my own. I would have sold myself to the evil one to spare
wealthy heiress. Both he and my mother leave me completely you one vexation! You are my Raphael to-day, really my own
free to decide my own fate. I am free—do you understand?” Raphael, with that handsome head of yours, and your heart
Seized with a kind of frenzy, Raphael grasped Pauline’s is mine too; yes, that above all, your heart—O wealth inex-
hands and kissed them eagerly and vehemently, with an al- haustible! Well, where was I?” she went on after a pause.
most convulsive caress. Pauline drew her hands away, laid “Oh yes! We have three, four, or five millions, I believe. If I
them on Raphael’s shoulders, and drew him towards her. were poor, I should perhaps desire to bear your name, to be

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acknowledged as your wife; but as it is, I would give up the She sprang upon his knees and clasped her arms about his
whole world for you, I would be your servant still, now and neck.
always. Why, Raphael, if I give you my fortune, my heart, “Kiss me!” she cried, “after all the pain you have given me;
myself to-day, I do no more than I did that day when I put a to blot out the memory of the grief that your joys have caused
certain five-franc piece in the drawer there,” and she pointed me; and for the sake of the nights that I spent in painting
to the table. “Oh, how your exultation hurt me then!” hand-screens—”
“Oh, why are you rich?” Raphael cried; “why is there no “Those hand-screens of yours?”
vanity in you? I can do nothing for you.” “Now that we are rich, my darling, I can tell you all about
He wrung his hands in despair and happiness and love. it. Poor boy! how easy it is to delude a clever man! Could
“When you are the Marquise de Valentin, I know that the you have had white waistcoats and clean shirts twice a week
title and the fortune for thee, heavenly soul, will not be for three francs every month to the laundress? Why, you used
worth—” to drink twice as much milk as your money would have paid
“One hair of your head,” she cried. for. I deceived you all round—over firing, oil, and even
“I have millions too. But what is wealth to either of us money. O Raphael mine, don’t have me for your wife, I am
now? There is my life—ah, that I can offer, take it.” far too cunning!” she said laughing.
“Your love, Raphael, your love is all the world to me. Are “But how did you manage?”
your thoughts of me? I am the happiest of the happy!” “I used to work till two o’clock in the morning; I gave my
“Can any one overhear us?” asked Raphael. mother half the money made by my screens, and the other
“Nobody,” she replied, and a mischievous gesture escaped half went to you.”
her. They looked at one another for a moment, both bewil-
“Come, then!” cried Valentin, holding out his arms. dered by love and gladness.

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“Some day we shall have to pay for this happiness by some “Ah, what are words?” answered Valentin, letting a hot tear
terrible sorrow,” cried Raphael. fall on Pauline’s hands. “Some time I will try to tell you of
“Perhaps you are married?” said Pauline. “Oh, I will not my love; just now I can only feel it.”
give you up to any other woman.” “You,” she said, “with your lofty soul and your great ge-
“I am free, my beloved.” nius, with that heart of yours that I know so well; are you
“Free!” she repeated. “Free, and mine!” really mine, as I am yours?”
She slipped down upon her knees, clasped her hands, and “For ever and ever, my sweet creature,” said Raphael in an
looked at Raphael in an enthusiasm of devotion. uncertain voice. “You shall be my wife, my protecting angel.
“I am afraid I shall go mad. How handsome you are!” she My griefs have always been dispelled by your presence, and
went on, passing her fingers through her lover’s fair hair. my courage revived; that angelic smile now on your lips has
“How stupid your Countess Foedora is! How pleased I was purified me, so to speak. A new life seems about to begin for
yesterday with the homage they all paid to me! SHE has me. The cruel past and my wretched follies are hardly more
never been applauded. Dear, when I felt your arm against to me than evil dreams. At your side I breathe an atmosphere
my back, I heard a vague voice within me that cried, ‘He is of happiness, and I am pure. Be with me always,” he added,
there!’ and I turned round and saw you. I fled, for I longed pressing her solemnly to his beating heart.
so to throw my arms about you before them all.” “Death may come when it will,” said Pauline in ecstasy; “I
“How happy you are—you can speak!” Raphael exclaimed. have lived!”
“My heart is overwhelmed; I would weep, but I cannot. Do Happy he who shall divine their joy, for he must have ex-
not draw your hand away. I could stay here looking at you perienced it.
like this for the rest of my life, I think; happy and content.” “I wish that no one might enter this dear garret again, my
“O my love, say that once more!” Raphael,” said Pauline, after two hours of silence.

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“We must have the door walled up, put bars across the “Really! we are to be married in a fortnight?” and she
window, and buy the house,” the Marquis answered. jumped for joy like a child.
“Yes, we will,” she said. Then a moment later she added: “I am an unnatural daughter!” she went on. “I give no
“Our search for your manuscripts has been a little lost sight more thought to my father or my mother, or to anything in
of,” and they both laughed like children. the world. Poor love, you don’t know that my father is very
“Pshaw! I don’t care a jot for the whole circle of the sci- ill? He returned from the Indies in very bad health. He nearly
ences,” Raphael answered. died at Havre, where we went to find him. Good heavens!”
“Ah, sir, and how about glory?” she cried, looking at her watch; “it is three o’clock already! I
“I glory in you alone.” ought to be back again when he wakes at four. I am mistress
“You used to be very miserable as you made these little of the house at home; my mother does everything that I
scratches and scrawls,” she said, turning the papers over. wish, and my father worships me; but I will not abuse their
“My Pauline—” kindness, that would be wrong. My poor father! He would
“Oh yes, I am your Pauline—and what then?” have me go to the Italiens yesterday. You will come to see
“Where are you living now?” him to-morrow, will you not?”
“In the Rue Saint Lazare. And you?” “Will Madame la Marquise de Valentin honor me by tak-
“In the Rue de Varenne.” ing my arm?”
“What a long way apart we shall be until——” She stopped, “I am going to take the key of this room away with me,”
and looked at her lover with a mischievous and coquettish she said. “Isn’t our treasure-house a palace?”
expression. “One more kiss, Pauline.”
“But at the most we need only be separated for a fort- “A thousand, Mon Dieu!” she said, looking at Raphael.
night,” Raphael answered. “Will it always be like this? I feel as if I were dreaming.”

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They went slowly down the stairs together, step for step, “Pauline!”
with arms closely linked, trembling both of them beneath “Oh, I know I am fearfully jealous. You have good taste. I
their load of joy. Each pressing close to the other’s side, like a will have a bed like yours to-morrow.”
pair of doves, they reached the Place de la Sorbonne, where Quite beside himself with happiness, Raphael caught
Pauline’s carriage was waiting. Pauline in his arms.
“I want to go home with you,” she said. “I want to see “Oh, my father!” she said; “my father—”
your own room and your study, and to sit at the table where “I will take you back to him,” cried Valentin, “for I want
you work. It will be like old times,” she said, blushing. to be away from you as little as possible.”
She spoke to the servant. “Joseph, before returning home I “How loving you are! I did not venture to suggest it—”
am going to the Rue de Varenne. It is a quarter-past three “Are you not my life?”
now, and I must be back by four o’clock. George must hurry It would be tedious to set down accurately the charming
the horses.” And so in a few moments the lovers came to prattle of the lovers, for tones and looks and gestures that
Valentin’s abode. cannot be rendered alone gave it significance. Valentin went
“How glad I am to have seen all this for myself!” Pauline back with Pauline to her own door, and returned with as
cried, creasing the silken bed-curtains in Raphael’s room much happiness in his heart as mortal man can know.
between her fingers. “As I go to sleep, I shall be here in When he was seated in his armchair beside the fire, think-
thought. I shall imagine your dear head on the pillow there. ing over the sudden and complete way in which his wishes
Raphael, tell me, did no one advise you about the furniture had been fulfilled, a cold shiver went through him, as if the
of your hotel?” blade of a dagger had been plunged into his breast—he
“No one whatever.” thought of the Magic Skin, and saw that it had shrunk a
“Really? It was not a woman who—” little. He uttered the most tremendous of French oaths, with-

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out any of the Jesuitical reservations made by the Abbess of tried, and happiness had taught them how strong it was.
Andouillettes, leant his head against the back of the chair, Never has love made two souls, two natures, so absolutely
and sat motionless, fixing his unseeing eyes upon the bracket one. The more they came to know of each other, the more
of the curtain pole. they loved. On either side there was the same hesitating deli-
“Good God!” he cried; “every wish! Every desire of mine! cacy, the same transports of joy such as angels know; there
Poor Pauline!—” were no clouds in their heaven; the will of either was the
He took a pair of compasses and measured the extent of other’s law.
existence that the morning had cost him. Wealthy as they both were, they had not a caprice which
“I have scarcely enough for two months!” he said. they could not gratify, and for that reason had no caprices. A
A cold sweat broke out over him; moved by an ungovern- refined taste, a feeling for beauty and poetry, was instinct in
able spasm of rage, he seized the Magic Skin, exclaiming: the soul of the bride; her lover’s smile was more to her than
“I am a perfect fool!” all the pearls of Ormuz. She disdained feminine finery; a
He rushed out of the house and across the garden, and muslin dress and flowers formed her most elaborate toilette.
flung the talisman down a well. Pauline and Raphael shunned every one else, for solitude
“Vogue la galere,” cried he. “The devil take all this non- was abundantly beautiful to them. The idlers at the Opera,
sense.” or at the Italiens, saw this charming and unconventional pair
So Raphael gave himself up to the happiness of being be- evening after evening. Some gossip went the round of the
loved, and led with Pauline the life of heart and heart. Diffi- salons at first, but the harmless lovers were soon forgotten in
culties which it would be somewhat tedious to describe had the course of events which took place in Paris; their marriage
delayed their marriage, which was to take place early in was announced at length to excuse them in the eyes of the
March. Each was sure of the other; their affection had been prudish; and as it happened, their servants did not babble;

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so their bliss did not draw down upon them any very severe in coffee; she was playing merrily with it, taking away the
punishment. cream that she had just allowed the kitten to sniff at, so as to
One morning towards the end of February, at the time exercise its patience, and keep up the contest. She burst out
when the brightening days bring a belief in the nearness of laughing at every antic, and by the comical remarks she con-
the joys of spring, Pauline and Raphael were breakfasting stantly made, she hindered Raphael from perusing the pa-
together in a small conservatory, a kind of drawing-room per; he had dropped it a dozen times already. This morning
filled with flowers, on a level with the garden. The mild rays picture seemed to overflow with inexpressible gladness, like
of the pale winter sunlight, breaking through the thicket of everything that is natural and genuine.
exotic plants, warmed the air somewhat. The vivid contrast Raphael, still pretending to read his paper, furtively watched
made by the varieties of foliage, the colors of the masses of Pauline with the cat—his Pauline, in the dressing-gown that
flowering shrubs, the freaks of light and shadow, gladdened hung carelessly about her; his Pauline, with her hair loose on
the eyes. While all the rest of Paris still sought warmth from her shoulders, with a tiny, white, blue-veined foot peeping
its melancholy hearth, these two were laughing in a bower of out of a velvet slipper. It was pleasant to see her in this neg-
camellias, lilacs, and blossoming heath. Their happy faces ligent dress; she was delightful as some fanciful picture by
rose above lilies of the valley, narcissus blooms, and Bengal Westall; half-girl, half-woman, as she seemed to be, or per-
roses. A mat of plaited African grass, variegated like a carpet, haps more of a girl than a woman, there was no alloy in the
lay beneath their feet in this luxurious conservatory. The walls, happiness she enjoyed, and of love she knew as yet only its
covered with a green linen material, bore no traces of damp. first ecstasy. When Raphael, absorbed in happy musing, had
The surfaces of the rustic wooden furniture shone with clean- forgotten the existence of the newspaper, Pauline flew upon
liness. A kitten, attracted by the odor of milk, had estab- it, crumpled it up into a ball, and threw it out into the gar-
lished itself upon the table; it allowed Pauline to bedabble it den; the kitten sprang after the rotating object, which spun

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round and round, as politics are wont to do. This childish Lord Marquis certainly knows a great deal more about things
scene recalled Raphael to himself. He would have gone on than I do, I thought I ought to bring it, and that it would
reading, and felt for the sheet he no longer possessed. Joyous interest him.”
laughter rang out like the song of a bird, one peal leading to Therewith the gardener showed Raphael the inexorable
another. piece of skin; there were barely six square inches of it left.
“I am quite jealous of the paper,” she said, as she wiped “Thanks, Vaniere,” Raphael said. “The thing is very curi-
away the tears that her childlike merriment had brought into ous.”
her eyes. “Now, is it not a heinous offence,” she went on, as “What is the matter with you, my angel; you are growing
she became a woman all at once, “to read Russian proclama- quite white!” Pauline cried.
tions in my presence, and to attend to the prosings of the “You can go, Vaniere.”
Emperor Nicholas rather than to looks and words of love!” “Your voice frightens me,” the girl went on; “it is so
“I was not reading, my dear angel; I was looking at you.” strangely altered. What is it? How are you feeling? Where is
Just then the gravel walk outside the conservatory rang the pain? You are in pain!—Jonathan! here! call a doctor!”
with the sound of the gardener’s heavily nailed boots. she cried.
“I beg your pardon, my Lord Marquis—and yours, too, “Hush, my Pauline,” Raphael answered, as he regained
madame—if I am intruding, but I have brought you a curi- composure. “Let us get up and go. Some flower here has a
osity the like of which I never set eyes on. Drawing a bucket scent that is too much for me. It is that verbena, perhaps.”
of water just now, with due respect, I got out this strange Pauline flew upon the innocent plant, seized it by the stalk,
salt-water plant. Here it is. It must be thoroughly used to and flung it out into the garden; then, with all the might of
water, anyhow, for it isn’t saturated or even damp at all. It is the love between them, she clasped Raphael in a close em-
as dry as a piece of wood, and has not swelled a bit. As my brace, and with languishing coquetry raised her red lips to

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his for a kiss. “So!” cried Raphael, when he was alone. “In an enlight-
“Dear angel,” she cried, “when I saw you turn so white, I ened age, when we have found out that diamonds are a crys-
understood that I could not live on without you; your life is tallized form of charcoal, at a time when everything is made
my life too. Lay your hand on my back, Raphael mine; I feel clear, when the police would hale a new Messiah before the
a chill like death. The feeling of cold is there yet. Your lips magistrates, and submit his miracles to the Academie des
are burning. How is your hand? —Cold as ice,” she added. Sciences—in an epoch when we no longer believe in anything
“Mad girl!” exclaimed Raphael. but a notary’s signature—that I, forsooth, should believe in a
“Why that tear? Let me drink it.” sort of Mene, Tekel, Upharsin! No, by Heaven, I will not be-
“O Pauline, Pauline, you love me far too much!” lieve that the Supreme Being would take pleasure in torturing
“There is something very extraordinary going on in your a harmless creature.—Let us see the learned about it.”
mind, Raphael! Do not dissimulate. I shall very soon find Between the Halle des Vins, with its extensive assembly of
out your secret. Give that to me,” she went on, taking the barrels, and the Salpetriere, that extensive seminary of drunk-
Magic Skin. enness, lies a small pond, which Raphael soon reached. All
“You are my executioner!” the young man exclaimed, glanc- sorts of ducks of rare varieties were there disporting them-
ing in horror at the talisman. selves; their colored markings shone in the sun like the glass
“How changed your voice is!” cried Pauline, as she dropped in cathedral windows. Every kind of duck in the world was
the fatal symbol of destiny. represented, quacking, dabbling, and moving about—a kind
“Do you love me?” he asked. of parliament of ducks assembled against its will, but luckily
“Do I love you? Is there any doubt?” without either charter or political principles, living in com-
“Then, leave me, go away!” plete immunity from sportsmen, under the eyes of any natu-
The poor child went. ralist that chanced to see them.

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“That is M. Lavrille,” said one of the keepers to Raphael, After the first interchange of civilities, Raphael thought it
who had asked for that high priest of zoology. necessary to pay M. Lavrille a banal compliment upon his
The Marquis saw a short man buried in profound reflec- ducks.
tions, caused by the appearance of a pair of ducks. The man “Oh, we are well off for ducks,” the naturalist replied. “The
of science was middle-aged; he had a pleasant face, made genus, moreover, as you doubtless know, is the most prolific
pleasanter still by a kindly expression, but an absorption in in the order of palmipeds. It begins with the swan and ends
scientific ideas engrossed his whole person. His peruke was with the zin-zin duck, comprising in all one hundred and
strangely turned up, by being constantly raised to scratch his thirty-seven very distinct varieties, each having its own name,
head; so that a line of white hair was left plainly visible, a habits, country, and character, and every one no more like
witness to an enthusiasm for investigation, which, like every another than a white man is like a negro. Really, sir, when we
other strong passion, so withdraws us from mundane con- dine off a duck, we have no notion for the most part of the
siderations, that we lose all consciousness of the “I” within vast extent—”
us. Raphael, the student and man of science, looked respect- He interrupted himself as he saw a small pretty duck come
fully at the naturalist, who devoted his nights to enlarging up to the surface of the pond.
the limits of human knowledge, and whose very errors re- “There you see the cravatted swan, a poor native of Canada;
flected glory upon France; but a she-coxcomb would have he has come a very long way to show us his brown and gray
laughed, no doubt, at the break of continuity between the plumage and his little black cravat! Look, he is preening him-
breeches and striped waistcoat worn by the man of learning; self. That one is the famous eider duck that provides the
the interval, moreover, was modestly filled by a shirt which down, the eider-down under which our fine ladies sleep; isn’t
had been considerably creased, for he stooped and raised it pretty? Who would not admire the little pinkish white
himself by turns, as his zoological observations required. breast and the green beak? I have just been a witness, sir,” he

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went on, “to a marriage that I had long despaired of bring- we are not amusing ourselves here. I am engaged at this mo-
ing about; they have paired rather auspiciously, and I shall ment upon a monograph on the genus duck. But I am at
await the results very eagerly. This will be a hundred and your disposal.”
thirty-eighth species, I flatter myself, to which, perhaps, my While they went towards a rather pleasant house in the
name will be given. That is the newly matched pair,” he said, Rue du Buffon, Raphael submitted the skin to M. Lavrille’s
pointing out two of the ducks; “one of them is a laughing inspection.
goose (anas albifrons), and the other the great whistling duck, “I know the product,” said the man of science, when he
Buffon’s anas ruffina. I have hesitated a long while between had turned his magnifying glass upon the talisman. “It used
the whistling duck, the duck with white eyebrows, and the to be used for covering boxes. The shagreen is very old. They
shoveler duck (anas clypeata). Stay, that is the shoveler— prefer to use skate’s skin nowadays for making sheaths. This,
that fat, brownish black rascal, with the greenish neck and as you are doubtless aware, is the hide of the raja sephen, a
that coquettish iridescence on it. But the whistling duck was Red Sea fish.”
a crested one, sir, and you will understand that I deliberated “But this, sir, since you are so exceedingly good—”
no longer. We only lack the variegated black-capped duck “This,” the man of science interrupted, as he resumed, “this
now. These gentlemen here, unanimously claim that that is quite another thing; between these two shagreens, sir, there
variety of duck is only a repetition of the curve-beaked teal, is a difference just as wide as between sea and land, or fish
but for my own part,”—and the gesture he made was worth and flesh. The fish’s skin is harder, however, than the skin of
seeing. It expressed at once the modesty and pride of a man the land animal. This,” he said, as he indicated the talisman,
of science; the pride full of obstinacy, and the modesty well “is, as you doubtless know, one of the most curious of zoo-
tempered with assurance. logical products.”
“I don’t think it is,” he added. “You see, my dear sir, that “But to proceed—” said Raphael.

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“This,” replied the man of science, as he flung himself down horses possess, striped with more or less tawny bands, very
into his armchair, “is an ass’ skin, sir.” much like the zebra’s hide. There is something pliant and
“Yes, I know,” said the young man. silky about its hair, which is sleek to the touch. Its powers of
“A very rare variety of ass found in Persia,” the naturalist sight vie in precision and accuracy with those of man; it is
continued, “the onager of the ancients, equus asinus, the koulan rather larger than our largest domestic donkeys, and is pos-
of the Tartars; Pallas went out there to observe it, and has sessed of extraordinary courage. If it is surprised by any
made it known to science, for as a matter of fact the animal for chance, it defends itself against the most dangerous wild beasts
a long time was believed to be mythical. It is mentioned, as with remarkable success; the rapidity of its movements can
you know, in Holy Scripture; Moses forbade that it should be only be compared with the flight of birds; an onager, sir,
coupled with its own species, and the onager is yet more fa- would run the best Arab or Persian horses to death. Accord-
mous for the prostitutions of which it was the object, and ing to the father of the conscientious Doctor Niebuhr, whose
which are often mentioned by the prophets of the Bible. Pallas, recent loss we are deploring, as you doubtless know, the or-
as you know doubtless, states in his Act. Petrop. tome II., that dinary average pace of one of these wonderful creatures would
these bizarre excesses are still devoutly believed in among the be seven thousand geometric feet per hour. Our own degen-
Persians and the Nogais as a sovereign remedy for lumbago erate race of donkeys can give no idea of the ass in his pride
and sciatic gout. We poor Parisians scarcely believe that. The and independence. He is active and spirited in his demeanor;
Museum has no example of the onager. he is cunning and sagacious; there is grace about the outlines
“What a magnificent animal!” he continued. “It is full of of his head; every movement is full of attractive charm. In
mystery; its eyes are provided with a sort of burnished cover- the East he is the king of beasts. Turkish and Persian super-
ing, to which the Orientals attribute the powers of fascina- stition even credits him with a mysterious origin; and when
tion; it has a glossier and finer coat than our handsomest stories of the prowess attributed to him are told in Thibet or

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in Tartary, the speakers mingle Solomon’s name with that of saying that Chaagri is a river—”
this noble animal. A tame onager, in short, is worth an enor- “I thank you, sir, for the information that you have given
mous amount; it is well-nigh impossible to catch them among me; it would furnish an admirable footnote for some Dom
the mountains, where they leap like roebucks, and seem as if Calmet or other, if such erudite hermits yet exist; but I have
they could fly like birds. Our myth of the winged horse, our had the honor of pointing out to you that this scrap was in
Pegasus, had its origin doubtless in these countries, where the first instance quite as large as that map,” said Raphael,
the shepherds could see the onager springing from one rock indicating an open atlas to Lavrille; “but it has shrunk vis-
to another. In Persia they breed asses for the saddle, a cross ibly in three months’ time—”
between a tamed onager and a she-ass, and they paint them “Quite so,” said the man of science. “I understand. The
red, following immemorial tradition. Perhaps it was this cus- remains of any substance primarily organic are naturally sub-
tom that gave rise to our own proverb, ‘Surely as a red don- ject to a process of decay. It is quite easy to understand, and
key.’ At some period when natural history was much ne- its progress depends upon atmospherical conditions. Even
glected in France, I think a traveler must have brought over metals contract and expand appreciably, for engineers have
one of these strange beasts that endures servitude with such remarked somewhat considerable interstices between great
impatience. Hence the adage. The skin that you have laid blocks of stone originally clamped together with iron bars.
before me is the skin of an onager. Opinions differ as to the The field of science is boundless, but human life is very short,
origin of the name. Some claim that Chagri is a Turkish word; so that we do not claim to be acquainted with all the phe-
others insist that Chagri must be the name of the place where nomena of nature.”
this animal product underwent the chemical process of prepa- “Pardon the question that I am about to ask you, sir,”
ration so clearly described by Pallas, to which the peculiar Raphael began, half embarrassed, “but are you quite sure
graining that we admire is due; Martellens has written to me that this piece of skin is subject to the ordinary laws of zool-

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 The Magic Skin
ogy, and that it can be stretched?” our ass, if we wish to live to old age.” But it is such a fantastic
“Certainly—oh, bother!—” muttered M. Lavrille, trying brute!
to stretch the talisman. “But if you, sir, will go to see Planchette was a tall, thin man, a poet of a surety, lost in
Planchette,” he added, “the celebrated professor of mechan- one continual thought, and always employed in gazing into
ics, he will certainly discover some method of acting upon the bottomless abyss of Motion. Commonplace minds ac-
this skin, of softening and expanding it.” cuse these lofty intellects of madness; they form a misinter-
“Ah, sir, you are the preserver of my life,” and Raphael preted race apart that lives in a wonderful carelessness of
took leave of the learned naturalist and hurried off to luxuries or other people’s notions. They will spend whole
Planchette, leaving the worthy Lavrille in his study, all among days at a stretch, smoking a cigar that has gone out, and
the bottles and dried plants that filled it up. enter a drawing-room with the buttons on their garments
Quite unconsciously Raphael brought away with him from not in every case formally wedded to the button-holes. Some
this visit, all of science that man can grasp, a terminology to day or other, after a long time spent in measuring space, or
wit. Lavrille, the worthy man, was very much like Sancho in accumulating Xs under Aa-Gg, they succeed in analyzing
Panza giving to Don Quixote the history of the goats; he was some natural law, and resolve it into its elemental principles,
entertaining himself by making out a list of animals and tick- and all on a sudden the crowd gapes at a new machine; or it
ing them off. Even now that his life was nearing its end, he is a handcart perhaps that overwhelms us with astonishment
was scarcely acquainted with a mere fraction of the countless by the apt simplicity of its construction. The modest man of
numbers of the great tribes that God has scattered, for some science smiles at his admirers, and remarks, “What is that
unknown end, throughout the ocean of worlds. invention of mine? Nothing whatever. Man cannot create a
Raphael was well pleased. “I shall keep my ass well in hand,” force; he can but direct it; and science consists in learning
cried he. Sterne had said before his day, “Let us take care of from nature.”

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The mechanician was standing bolt upright, planted on “People of fashion, sir, always treat science rather supercil-
both feet, like some victim dropped straight from the gib- iously,” said Planchette. “They all talk to us pretty much as
bet, when Raphael broke in upon him. He was intently the incroyable did when he brought some ladies to see Lalande
watching an agate ball that rolled over a sun-dial, and awaited just after an eclipse, and remarked, ‘Be so good as to begin it
its final settlement. The worthy man had received neither over again!’ What effect do you want to produce? The object
pension nor decoration; he had not known how to make the of the science of mechanics is either the application or the
right use of his ability for calculation. He was happy in his neutralization of the laws of motion. As for motion pure and
life spent on the watch for a discovery; he had no thought simple, I tell you humbly, that we cannot possibly define it.
either of reputation, of the outer world, nor even of himself, That disposed of, unvarying phenomena have been observed
and led the life of science for the sake of science. which accompany the actions of solids and fluids. If we set
“It is inexplicable,” he exclaimed. “Ah, your servant, sir,” up the conditions by which these phenomena are brought to
he went on, becoming aware of Raphael’s existence. “How is pass, we can transport bodies or communicate locomotive
your mother? You must go and see my wife.” power to them at a predetermined rate of speed. We can
“And I also could have lived thus,” thought Raphael, as he project them, divide them up in a few or an infinite number
recalled the learned man from his meditations by asking of of pieces, accordingly as we break them or grind them to
him how to produce any effect on the talisman, which he powder; we can twist bodies or make them rotate, modify,
placed before him. compress, expand, or extend them. The whole science, sir,
“Although my credulity must amuse you, sir,” so the Mar- rests upon a single fact.
quis ended, “I will conceal nothing from you. That skin seems “You see this ball,” he went on; “here it lies upon this slab.
to me to be endowed with an insuperable power of resis- Now, it is over there. What name shall we give to what has
tance.” taken place, so natural from a physical point of view, so amaz-

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ing from a moral? Movement, locomotion, changing of place? and yet escapes us. It is evident as a fact, obscure as an abstrac-
What prodigious vanity lurks underneath the words. Does a tion; it is at once effect and cause. It requires space, even as we,
name solve the difficulty? Yet it is the whole of our science and what is space? Movement alone recalls it to us; without
for all that. Our machines either make direct use of this movement, space is but an empty meaningless word. Like space,
agency, this fact, or they convert it. This trifling phenom- like creation, like the infinite, movement is an insoluble prob-
enon, applied to large masses, would send Paris flying. We lem which confounds human reason; man will never conceive
can increase speed by an expenditure of force, and augment it, whatever else he may be permitted to conceive.
the force by an increase of speed. But what are speed and “Between each point in space occupied in succession by
force? Our science is as powerless to tell us that as to create that ball,” continued the man of science, “there is an abyss
motion. Any movement whatever is an immense power, and confronting human reason, an abyss into which Pascal fell.
man does not create power of any kind. Everything is move- In order to produce any effect upon an unknown substance,
ment, thought itself is a movement, upon movement nature we ought first of all to study that substance; to know whether,
is based. Death is a movement whose limitations are little in accordance with its nature, it will be broken by the force
known. If God is eternal, be sure that He moves perpetually; of a blow, or whether it will withstand it; if it breaks in pieces,
perhaps God is movement. That is why movement, like God and you have no wish to split it up, we shall not achieve the
is inexplicable, unfathomable, unlimited, incomprehensible, end proposed. If you want to compress it, a uniform im-
intangible. Who has ever touched, comprehended, or mea- pulse must be communicated to all the particles of the sub-
sured movement? We feel its effects without seeing it; we stance, so as to diminish the interval that separates them in
can even deny them as we can deny the existence of a God. an equal degree. If you wish to expand it, we should try to
Where is it? Where is it not? Whence comes it? What is its bring a uniform eccentric force to bear on every molecule;
source? What is its end? It surrounds us, it intrudes upon us, for unless we conform accurately to this law, we shall have

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breaches in continuity. The modes of motion, sir, are infi- ought to make them useful in this way,” the man of science
nite, and no limit exists to combinations of movement. Upon went on, without reflecting on the regard man has for his
what effect have you determined?” progeny.
“I want any kind of pressure that is strong enough to ex- Quite absorbed by his idea, Planchette took an empty
pand the skin indefinitely,” began Raphael, quite of out pa- flower-pot, with a hole in the bottom, and put it on the
tience. surface of the dial, then he went to look for a little clay in a
“Substance is finite,” the mathematician put in, “and there- corner of the garden. Raphael stood spellbound, like a child
fore will not admit of indefinite expansion, but pressure will to whom his nurse is telling some wonderful story. Planchette
necessarily increase the extent of surface at the expense of put the clay down upon the slab, drew a pruning-knife from
the thickness, which will be diminished until the point is his pocket, cut two branches from an elder tree, and began
reached when the material gives out—” to clean them of pith by blowing through them, as if Raphael
“Bring about that result, sir,” Raphael cried, “and you will had not been present.
have earned millions.” “There are the rudiments of the apparatus,” he said. Then
“Then I should rob you of your money,” replied the other, he connected one of the wooden pipes with the bottom of
phlegmatic as a Dutchman. “I am going to show you, in a the flower-pot by way of a clay joint, in such a way that the
word or two, that a machine can be made that is fit to crush mouth of the elder stem was just under the hole of the flower-
Providence itself in pieces like a fly. It would reduce a man to pot; you might have compared it to a big tobacco-pipe. He
the conditions of a piece of waste paper; a man—boots and spread a bed of clay over the surface of the slab, in a shovel-
spurs, hat and cravat, trinkets and gold, and all—” shaped mass, set down the flower-pot at the wider end of it,
“What a fearful machine!” and laid the pipe of the elder stem along the portion which
“Instead of flinging their brats into the water, the Chinese represented the handle of the shovel. Next he put a lump of

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clay at the end of the elder stem and therein planted the Raphael was thinking of his piece of skin.
other pipe, in an upright position, forming a second elbow “Water is considered to-day, sir, to be an incompressible
which connected it with the first horizontal pipe in such a body,” said the mechanician; “never lose sight of that funda-
manner that the air, or any given fluid in circulation, could mental principle; still it can be compressed, though only so
flow through this improvised piece of mechanism from the very slightly that we should regard its faculty for contracting
mouth of the vertical tube, along the intermediate passages, as a zero. You see the amount of surface presented by the
and so into the large empty flower-pot. water at the brim of the flower-pot?”
“This apparatus, sir,” he said to Raphael, with all the grav- “Yes, sir.”
ity of an academician pronouncing his initiatory discourse, “Very good; now suppose that that surface is a thousand
“is one of the great Pascal’s grandest claims upon our admi- times larger than the orifice of the elder stem through which
ration.” I poured the liquid. Here, I am taking the funnel away—”
“I don’t understand.” “Granted.”
The man of science smiled. He went up to a fruit-tree and “Well, then, if by any method whatever I increase the vol-
took down a little phial in which the druggist had sent him ume of that quantity of water by pouring in yet more through
some liquid for catching ants; he broke off the bottom and the mouth of the little tube; the water thus compelled to
made a funnel of the top, carefully fitting it to the mouth of flow downwards would rise in the reservoir, represented by
the vertical hollowed stem that he had set in the clay, and at the flower-pot, until it reached the same level at either end.”
the opposite end to the great reservoir, represented by the “That is quite clear,” cried Raphael.
flower-pot. Next, by means of a watering-pot, he poured in “But there is this difference,” the other went on. “Suppose
sufficient water to rise to the same level in the large vessel that the thin column of water poured into the little vertical
and in the tiny circular funnel at the end of the elder stem. tube there exerts a force equal, say, to a pound weight, for

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instance, its action will be punctually communicated to the “Now,” said Planchette, as he gave a fillip to his bits of
great body of the liquid, and will be transmitted to every stick, “let us replace this funny little apparatus by steel tubes
part of the surface represented by the water in the flower-pot of suitable strength and dimensions; and if you cover the
so that at the surface there will be a thousand columns of liquid surface of the reservoir with a strong sliding plate of
water, every one pressing upwards as if they were impelled metal, and if to this metal plate you oppose another, solid
by a force equal to that which compels the liquid to descend enough and strong enough to resist any test; if, furthermore,
in the vertical tube; and of necessity they reproduce here,” you give me the power of continually adding water to the
said Planchette, indicating to Raphael the top of the flower- volume of liquid contents by means of the little vertical tube,
pot, “the force introduced over there, a thousand-fold,” and the object fixed between the two solid metal plates must of
the man of science pointed out to the marquis the upright necessity yield to the tremendous crushing force which in-
wooden pipe set in the clay. definitely compresses it. The method of continually pouring
“That is quite simple,” said Raphael. in water through a little tube, like the manner of communi-
Planchette smiled again. cating force through the volume of the liquid to a small metal
“In other words,” he went on, with the mathematician’s plate, is an absurdly primitive mechanical device. A brace of
natural stubborn propensity for logic, “in order to resist the pistons and a few valves would do it all. Do you perceive, my
force of the incoming water, it would be necessary to exert, dear sir,” he said taking Valentin by the arm, “there is scarcely
upon every part of the large surface, a force equal to that a substance in existence that would not be compelled to di-
brought into action in the vertical column, but with this late when fixed in between these two indefinitely resisting
difference—if the column of liquid is a foot in height, the surfaces?”
thousand little columns of the wide surface will only have a “What! the author of the Lettres provinciales invented it?”
very slight elevating power. Raphael exclaimed.

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“He and no other, sir. The science of mechanics knows no “Till to-morrow, sir.”
simpler nor more beautiful contrivance. The opposite prin- “Talk of mechanics!” cried Raphael; “isn’t it the greatest of
ciple, the capacity of expansion possessed by water, has the sciences? The other fellow with his onagers, classifica-
brought the steam-engine into being. But water will only tions, ducks, and species, and his phials full of bottled mon-
expand up to a certain point, while its incompressibility, be- strosities, is at best only fit for a billiard-marker in a saloon.”
ing a force in a manner negative, is, of necessity, infinite.” The next morning Raphael went off in great spirits to find
“If this skin is expanded,” said Raphael, “I promise you to Planchette, and together they set out for the Rue de la Sante—
erect a colossal statue to Blaise Pascal; to found a prize of a auspicious appellation! Arrived at Spieghalter’s, the young
hundred thousand francs to be offered every ten years for man found himself in a vast foundry; his eyes lighted upon a
the solution of the grandest problem of mechanical science multitude of glowing and roaring furnaces. There was a storm
effected during the interval; to find dowries for all your cous- of sparks, a deluge of nails, an ocean of pistons, vices, levers,
ins and second cousins, and finally to build an asylum on valves, girders, files, and nuts; a sea of melted metal, baulks
purpose for impoverished or insane mathematicians.” of timber and bar-steel. Iron filings filled your throat. There
“That would be exceedingly useful,” Planchette replied. was iron in the atmosphere; the men were covered with it;
“We will go to Spieghalter to-morrow, sir,” he continued, everything reeked of iron. The iron seemed to be a living
with the serenity of a man living on a plane wholly intellec- organism; it became a fluid, moved, and seemed to shape
tual. “That distinguished mechanic has just completed, af- itself intelligently after every fashion, to obey the worker’s
ter my own designs, an improved mechanical arrangement every caprice. Through the uproar made by the bellows, the
by which a child could get a thousand trusses of hay inside crescendo of the falling hammers, and the shrill sounds of
his cap.” the lathes that drew groans from the steel, Raphael passed
“Then good-bye till to-morrow.” into a large, clean, and airy place where he was able to in-

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spect at his leisure the great press that Planchette had told safe and sound as my eye. There was a flaw in your reservoir
him about. He admired the cast-iron beams, as one might somewhere, or a crevice in the large tube—”
call them, and the twin bars of steel coupled together with “No, no; I know my reservoir. The devil is in your contriv-
indestructible bolts. ance, sir; you can take it away,” and the German pounced
“If you were to give seven rapid turns to that crank,” said upon a smith’s hammer, flung the skin down on an anvil,
Spieghalter, pointing out a beam of polished steel, “you would and, with all the strength that rage gives, dealt the talisman
make a steel bar spurt out in thousands of jets, that would the most formidable blow that had ever resounded through
get into your legs like needles.” his workshops.
“The deuce!” exclaimed Raphael. “There is not so much as a mark on it!” said Planchette,
Planchette himself slipped the piece of skin between the stroking the perverse bit of skin.
metal plates of the all-powerful press; and, brimful of the The workmen hurried in. The foreman took the skin and
certainty of a scientific conviction, he worked the crank en- buried it in the glowing coal of a forge, while, in a semi-
ergetically. circle round the fire, they all awaited the action of a huge
“Lie flat, all of you; we are dead men!” thundered pair of bellows. Raphael, Spieghalter, and Professor Planchette
Spieghalter, as he himself fell prone on the floor. stood in the midst of the grimy expectant crowd. Raphael,
A hideous shrieking sound rang through the workshops. looking round on faces dusted over with iron filings, white
The water in the machine had broken the chamber, and now eyes, greasy blackened clothing, and hairy chests, could have
spouted out in a jet of incalculable force; luckily it went in fancied himself transported into the wild nocturnal world of
the direction of an old furnace, which was overthrown, en- German ballad poetry. After the skin had been in the fire for
veloped and carried away by a waterspout. ten minutes, the foreman pulled it out with a pair of pincers.
“Ha!” remarked Planchette serenely, “the piece of skin is as “Hand it over to me,” said Raphael.

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The foreman held it out by way of a joke. The Marquis the chemist, the celebrated Japhet, in his laboratory.
readily handled it; it was cool and flexible between his fin- “Well, old friend,” Planchette began, seeing Japhet in his
gers. An exclamation of alarm went up; the workmen fled in armchair, examining a precipitate; “how goes chemistry?”
terror. Valentin was left alone with Planchette in the empty “Gone to sleep. Nothing new at all. The Academie, how-
workshop. ever, has recognized the existence of salicine, but salicine,
“There is certainly something infernal in the thing!” cried asparagine, vauqueline, and digitaline are not really discov-
Raphael, in desperation. “Is no human power able to give eries—”
me one more day of existence?” “Since you cannot invent substances,” said Raphael, “you
“I made a mistake, sir,” said the mathematician, with a are obliged to fall back on inventing names.”
penitent expression; “we ought to have subjected that pecu- “Most emphatically true, young man.”
liar skin to the action of a rolling machine. Where could my “Here,” said Planchette, addressing the chemist, “try to
eyes have been when I suggested compression!” analyze this composition; if you can extract any element what-
“It was I that asked for it,” Raphael answered. ever from it, I christen it diaboline beforehand, for we have
The mathematician heaved a sigh of relief, like a culprit just smashed a hydraulic press in trying to compress it.”
acquitted by a dozen jurors. Still, the strange problem af- “Let’s see! let’s have a look at it!” cried the delighted chem-
forded by the skin interested him; he meditated a moment, ist; “it may, perhaps, be a fresh element.”
and then remarked: “It is simply a piece of the skin of an ass, sir,” said Raphael.
“This unknown material ought to be treated chemically “Sir!” said the illustrious chemist sternly.
by re-agents. Let us call on Japhet—perhaps the chemist may “I am not joking,” the Marquis answered, laying the piece
have better luck than the mechanic.” of skin before him.
Valentin urged his horse into a rapid trot, hoping to find Baron Japhet applied the nervous fibres of his tongue to

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the skin; he had skill in thus detecting salts, acids, alkalis, It was seven o’clock in the evening. Planchette, Japhet, and
and gases. After several experiments, he remarked: Raphael, unaware of the flight of time, were awaiting the out-
“No taste whatever! Come, we will give it a little fluoric come of a final experiment. The Magic Skin emerged trium-
acid to drink.” phant from a formidable encounter in which it had been en-
Subjected to the influence of this ready solvent of animal gaged with a considerable quantity of chloride of nitrogen.
tissue, the skin underwent no change whatsoever. “It is all over with me,” Raphael wailed. “It is the finger of
“It is not shagreen at all!” the chemist cried. “We will treat God! I shall die!—” and he left the two amazed scientific
this unknown mystery as a mineral, and try its mettle by men.
dropping it in a crucible where I have at this moment some “We must be very careful not to talk about this affair at the
red potash.” Academie; our colleagues there would laugh at us,” Planchette
Japhet went out, and returned almost immediately. remarked to the chemist, after a long pause, in which they
“Allow me to cut away a bit of this strange substance, sir,” looked at each other without daring to communicate their
he said to Raphael; “it is so extraordinary—” thoughts. The learned pair looked like two Christians who
“A bit!” exclaimed Raphael; “not so much as a hair’s- had issued from their tombs to find no God in the heavens.
breadth. You may try, though,” he added, half banteringly, Science had been powerless; acids, so much clear water; red
half sadly. potash had been discredited; the galvanic battery and elec-
The chemist broke a razor in his desire to cut the skin; he tric shock had been a couple of playthings.
tried to break it by a powerful electric shock; next he sub- “A hydraulic press broken like a biscuit!” commented
mitted it to the influence of a galvanic battery; but all the Planchette.
thunderbolts his science wotted of fell harmless on the dread- “I believe in the devil,” said the Baron Japhet, after a
ful talisman. moment’s silence.

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 The Magic Skin
“And I in God,” replied Planchette. possesses had been brought to bear upon it in vain—these
Each spoke in character. The universe for a mechanician is things terrified him. The incontrovertible fact made him
a machine that requires an operator; for chemistry—that dizzy.
fiendish employment of decomposing all things—the world “I am mad,” he muttered. “I have had no food since the
is a gas endowed with the power of movement. morning, and yet I am neither hungry nor thirsty, and there
“We cannot deny the fact,” the chemist replied. is a fire in my breast that burns me.”
“Pshaw! those gentlemen the doctrinaires have invented a He put back the skin in the frame where it had been en-
nebulous aphorism for our consolation—Stupid as a fact.” closed but lately, drew a line in red ink about the actual con-
“Your aphorism,” said the chemist, “seems to me as a fact figuration of the talisman, and seated himself in his arm-
very stupid.” chair.
They began to laugh, and went off to dine like folk for “Eight o’clock already!” he exclaimed. “To-day has gone
whom a miracle is nothing more than a phenomenon. like a dream.”
Valentin reached his own house shivering with rage and He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair, propped his
consumed with anger. He had no more faith in anything. head with his left hand, and so remained, lost in secret dark
Conflicting thoughts shifted and surged to and fro in his reflections and consuming thoughts that men condemned
brain, as is the case with every man brought face to face with to die bear away with them.
an inconceivable fact. He had readily believed in some hid- “O Pauline!” he cried. “Poor child! there are gulfs that love
den flaw in Spieghalter’s apparatus; he had not been sur- can never traverse, despite the strength of his wings.”
prised by the incompetence and failure of science and of Just then he very distinctly heard a smothered sigh, and
fire; but the flexibility of the skin as he handled it, taken knew by one of the most tender privileges of passionate love
with its stubbornness when all means of destruction that man that it was Pauline’s breathing.

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“That is my death warrant,” he said to himself. “If she laughingly. “To die with you, both together, to-morrow
were there, I should wish to die in her arms.” morning, in one last embrace, would be joy. It seems to me
A burst of gleeful and hearty laughter made him turn his that even then I should have lived more than a hundred years.
face towards the bed; he saw Pauline’s face through the trans- What does the number of days matter if we have spent a
parent curtains, smiling like a child for gladness over a suc- whole lifetime of peace and love in one night, in one hour?”
cessful piece of mischief. Her pretty hair fell over her shoul- “You are right; Heaven is speaking through that pretty
ders in countless curls; she looked like a Bengal rose upon a mouth of yours. Grant that I may kiss you, and let us die,”
pile of white roses. said Raphael.
“I cajoled Jonathan,” said she. “Doesn’t the bed belong to “Then let us die,” she said, laughing.
me, to me who am your wife? Don’t scold me, darling; I only Towards nine o’clock in the morning the daylight streamed
wanted to surprise you, to sleep beside you. Forgive me for through the chinks of the window shutters. Obscured some-
my freak.” what by the muslin curtains, it yet sufficed to show clearly the
She sprang out of bed like a kitten, showed herself gleam- rich colors of the carpet, the silks and furniture of the room,
ing in her lawn raiment, and sat down on Raphael’s knee. where the two lovers were lying asleep. The gilding sparkled
“Love, what gulf were you talking about?” she said, with here and there. A ray of sunshine fell and faded upon the soft
an anxious expression apparent upon her face. down quilt that the freaks of live had thrown to the ground.
“Death.” The outlines of Pauline’s dress, hanging from a cheval glass,
“You hurt me,” she answered. “There are some thoughts appeared like a shadowy ghost. Her dainty shoes had been left
upon which we, poor women that we are, cannot dwell; they at a distance from the bed. A nightingale came to perch upon
are death to us. Is it strength of love in us, or lack of courage? the sill; its trills repeated over again, and the sounds of its wings
I cannot tell. Death does not frighten me,” she began again, suddenly shaken out for flight, awoke Raphael.

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“For me to die,” he said, following out a thought begun in within them during their waking hours; but slumber seems
his dream, “my organization, the mechanism of flesh and to give them back the spontaneity of life which makes in-
bone, that is quickened by the will in me, and makes of me fancy lovely. Pauline blushed for nothing; she was like one
an individual man, must display some perceptible disease. of those beloved and heavenly beings, in whom reason has
Doctors ought to understand the symptoms of any attack not yet put motives into their actions and mystery into their
on vitality, and could tell me whether I am sick or sound.” glances. Her profile stood out in sharp relief against the fine
He gazed at his sleeping wife. She had stretched her head cambric of the pillows; there was a certain sprightliness about
out to him, expressing in this way even while she slept the her loose hair in confusion, mingled with the deep lace ruffles;
anxious tenderness of love. Pauline seemed to look at him as but she was sleeping in happiness, her long lashes were tightly
she lay with her face turned towards him in an attitude as pressed against her cheeks, as if to secure her eyes from too
full of grace as a young child’s, with her pretty, half-opened strong a light, or to aid an effort of her soul to recollect and
mouth held out towards him, as she drew her light, even to hold fast a bliss that had been perfect but fleeting. Her
breath. Her little pearly teeth seemed to heighten the redness tiny pink and white ear, framed by a lock of her hair and
of the fresh lips with the smile hovering over them. The red outlined by a wrapping of Mechlin lace, would have made
glow in her complexion was brighter, and its whiteness was, so an artist, a painter, an old man, wildly in love, and would
to speak, whiter still just then than in the most impassioned perhaps have restored a madman to his senses.
moments of the waking day. In her unconstrained grace, as Is it not an ineffable bliss to behold the woman that you
she lay, so full of believing trust, the adorable attractions of love, sleeping, smiling in a peaceful dream beneath your pro-
childhood were added to the enchantments of love. tection, loving you even in dreams, even at the point where
Even the most unaffected women still obey certain social the individual seems to cease to exist, offering to you yet the
conventions, which restrain the free expansion of the soul mute lips that speak to you in slumber of the latest kiss? Is it

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not indescribable happiness to see a trusting woman, half- over it all that belongs only to the earliest days of passion,
clad, but wrapped round in her love as by a cloak —modesty just as simplicity and artlessness are the peculiar possession
in the midst of dishevelment—to see admiringly her scat- of childhood. Alas! love’s springtide joys, like our own youth-
tered clothing, the silken stocking hastily put off to please ful laughter, must even take flight, and live for us no longer
you last evening, the unclasped girdle that implies a bound- save in memory; either for our despair, or to shed some sooth-
less faith in you. A whole romance lies there in that girdle; ing fragrance over us, according to the bent of our inmost
the woman that it used to protect exists no longer; she is thoughts.
yours, she has become you; henceforward any betrayal of her “What made me wake you?” said Raphael. “It was so great
is a blow dealt at yourself. a pleasure to watch you sleeping that it brought tears to my
In this softened mood Raphael’s eyes wandered over the eyes.”
room, now filled with memories and love, and where the “And to mine, too,” she answered. “I cried in the night
very daylight seemed to take delightful hues. Then he turned while I watched you sleeping, but not with happiness.
his gaze at last upon the outlines of the woman’s form, upon Raphael, dear, pray listen to me. Your breathing is labored
youth and purity, and love that even now had no thought while you sleep, and something rattles in your chest that
that was not for him alone, above all things, and longed to frightens me. You have a little dry cough when you are asleep,
live for ever. As his eyes fell upon Pauline, her own opened at exactly like my father’s, who is dying of phthisis. In those
once as if a ray of sunlight had lighted on them. sounds from your lungs I recognized some of the peculiar
“Good-morning,” she said, smiling. “How handsome you symptoms of that complaint. Then you are feverish; I know
are, bad man!” you are; your hand was moist and burning—Darling, you
The grace of love and youth, of silence and dawn, shone in are young,” she added with a shudder, “and you could still
their faces, making a divine picture, with the fleeting spell get over it if unfortunately—But, no,” she cried cheerfully,

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“there is no ‘unfortunately,’ the disease is contagious, so the Death before her—the hideous skeleton. Raphael’s face had
doctors say.” grown as pale and livid as any skull unearthed from a church-
She flung both arms about Raphael, drawing in his breath yard to assist the studies of some scientific man. Pauline re-
through one of those kisses in which the soul reaches its end. membered the exclamation that had escaped from Valentin
“I do not wish to live to old age,” she said. “Let us both die the previous evening, and to herself she said:
young, and go to heaven while flowers fill our hands.” “Yes, there are gulfs that love can never cross, and therein
“We always make such designs as those when we are well love must bury itself.”
and strong,” Raphael replied, burying his hands in Pauline’s On a March morning, some days after this wretched scene,
hair. But even then a horrible fit of coughing came on, one Raphael found himself seated in an armchair, placed in the
of those deep ominous coughs that seem to come from the window in the full light of day. Four doctors stood round
depths of the tomb, a cough that leaves the sufferer ghastly him, each in turn trying his pulse, feeling him over, and ques-
pale, trembling, and perspiring; with aching sides and quiv- tioning him with apparent interest. The invalid sought to
ering nerves, with a feeling of weariness pervading the very guess their thoughts, putting a construction on every move-
marrow of the spine, and unspeakable languor in every vein. ment they made, and on the slightest contractions of their
Raphael slowly laid himself down, pale, exhausted, and over- brows. His last hope lay in this consultation. This court of
come, like a man who has spent all the strength in him over appeal was about to pronounce its decision—life or death.
one final effort. Pauline’s eyes, grown large with terror, were Valentin had summoned the oracles of modern medicine,
fixed upon him; she lay quite motionless, pale, and silent. so that he might have the last word of science. Thanks to his
“Let us commit no more follies, my angel,” she said, try- wealth and title, there stood before him three embodied theo-
ing not to let Raphael see the dreadful forebodings that dis- ries; human knowledge fluctuated round the three points.
turbed her. She covered her face with her hands, for she saw Three of the doctors brought among them the complete circle

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of medical philosophy; they represented the points of con- a large frame and energetic organization, which seemed to
flict round which the battle raged, between Spiritualism, mark him out as superior to his two rivals.
Analysis, and goodness knows what in the way of mocking “I made up my mind to kill myself with debauchery, after
eclecticism. spending three years over an extensive work, with which per-
The fourth doctor was Horace Bianchon, a man of science haps you may some day occupy yourselves,” Raphael replied.
with a future before him, the most distinguished man of the The great doctor shook his head, and so displayed his sat-
new school in medicine, a discreet and unassuming repre- isfaction. “I was sure of it,” he seemed to say to himself. He
sentative of a studious generation that is preparing to receive was the illustrious Brisset, the successor of Cabanis and
the inheritance of fifty years of experience treasured up by Bichat, head of the Organic School, a doctor popular with
the Ecole de Paris, a generation that perhaps will erect the believers in material and positive science, who see in man a
monument for the building of which the centuries behind complete individual, subject solely to the laws of his own
us have collected the different materials. As a personal friend particular organization; and who consider that his normal
of the Marquis and of Rastignac, he had been in attendance condition and abnormal states of disease can both be traced
on the former for some days past, and was helping him to to obvious causes.
answer the inquiries of the three professors, occasionally in- After this reply, Brisset looked, without speaking, at a
sisting somewhat upon those symptoms which, in his opin- middle-sized person, whose darkly flushed countenance and
ion, pointed to pulmonary disease. glowing eyes seemed to belong to some antique satyr; and
“You have been living at a great pace, leading a dissipated who, leaning his back against the corner of the embrasure,
life, no doubt, and you have devoted yourself largely to in- was studying Raphael, without saying a word. Doctor
tellectual work?” queried one of the three celebrated authori- Cameristus, a man of creeds and enthusiasms, the head of
ties, addressing Raphael. He was a square-headed man, with the “Vitalists,” a romantic champion of the esoteric doctrines

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of Van Helmont, discerned a lofty informing principle in “I should very much like to be a witness of the coincidence
human life, a mysterious and inexplicable phenomenon of its retrenchment with your wish,” he said to the Marquis.
which mocks at the scalpel, deceives the surgeon, eludes the “Where is the use?” cried Brisset.
drugs of the pharmacopoeia, the formulae of algebra, the “Where is the use?” echoed Cameristus.
demonstrations of anatomy, and derides all our efforts; a sort “Ah, you are both of the same mind,” replied Maugredie.
of invisible, intangible flame, which, obeying some divinely “The contraction is perfectly simple,” Brisset went on.
appointed law, will often linger on in a body in our opinion “It is supernatural,” remarked Cameristus.
devoted to death, while it takes flight from an organization “In short,” Maugredie made answer, with affected solem-
well fitted for prolonged existence. nity, and handing the piece of skin to Raphael as he spoke,
A bitter smile hovered upon the lips of the third doctor, “the shriveling faculty of the skin is a fact inexplicable, and
Maugredie, a man of acknowledged ability, but a Pyrrhonist yet quite natural, which, ever since the world began, has been
and a scoffer, with the scalpel for his one article of faith. He the despair of medicine and of pretty women.”
would consider, as a concession to Brisset, that a man who, All Valentin’s observation could discover no trace of a feel-
as a matter of fact, was perfectly well was dead, and recog- ing for his troubles in any of the three doctors. The three
nize with Cameristus that a man might be living on after his received every answer in silence, scanned him unconcernedly,
apparent demise. He found something sensible in every and interrogated him unsympathetically. Politeness did not
theory, and embraced none of them, claiming that the best conceal their indifference; whether deliberation or certainty
of all systems of medicine was to have none at all, and to was the cause, their words at any rate came so seldom and so
stick to facts. This Panurge of the Clinical Schools, the king languidly, that at times Raphael thought that their attention
of observers, the great investigator, a great sceptic, the man was wandering. From time to time Brisset, the sole speaker,
of desperate expedients, was scrutinizing the Magic Skin. remarked, “Good! just so!” as Bianchon pointed out the ex-

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istence of each desperate symptom. Cameristus seemed to Raphael gave way before their custom, thinking that he
be deep in meditation; Maugredie looked like a comic au- could slip into a passage adjoining, whence he could easily
thor, studying two queer characters with a view to reproduc- overhear the medical conference in which the three profes-
ing them faithfully upon the stage. There was deep, uncon- sors were about to engage.
cealed distress, and grave compassion in Horace Bianchon’s “Permit me, gentlemen,” said Brisset, as they entered, “to
face. He had been a doctor for too short a time to be un- give you my own opinion at once. I neither wish to force it
touched by suffering and unmoved by a deathbed; he had upon you nor to have it discussed. In the first place, it is
not learned to keep back the sympathetic tears that obscure unbiased, concise, and based on an exact similarity that ex-
a man’s clear vision and prevent him from seizing like the ists between one of my own patients and the subject that we
general of an army, upon the auspicious moment for victory, have been called in to examine; and, moreover, I am expected
in utter disregard of the groans of dying men. at my hospital. The importance of the case that demands my
After spending about half an hour over taking in some sort presence there will excuse me for speaking the first word.
the measure of the patient and the complaint, much as a tailor The subject with which we are concerned has been exhausted
measures a young man for a coat when he orders his wedding in an equal degree by intellectual labors—what did he set
outfit, the authorities uttered several commonplaces, and even about, Horace?” he asked of the young doctor.
talked of politics. Then they decided to go into Raphael’s study “A ‘Theory of the Will,’ “
to exchange their ideas and frame their verdict. “The devil! but that’s a big subject. He is exhausted, I say,
“May I not be present during the discussion, gentlemen?” by too much brain-work, by irregular courses, and by the
Valentin had asked them, but Brisset and Maugredie pro- repeated use of too powerful stimulants. Violent exertion of
tested against this, and, in spite of their patient’s entreaties, body and mind has demoralized the whole system. It is easy,
declined altogether to deliberate in his presence. gentlemen, to recognize in the symptoms of the face and

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body generally intense irritation of the stomach, an affec- say no more to Dr. Bianchon; he should be able to grasp the
tion of the great sympathetic nerve, acute sensibility of the whole treatment as well as the details. There may be, per-
epigastric region, and contraction of the right and left hypo- haps, some complication of the disease—the bronchial tubes,
chondriac. You have noticed, too, the large size and promi- possibly, may be also inflamed; but I believe that treatment
nence of the liver. M. Bianchon has, besides, constantly for the intestinal organs is very much more important and
watched the patient, and he tells us that digestion is trouble- necessary, and more urgently required than for the lungs.
some and difficult. Strictly speaking, there is no stomach Persistent study of abstract matters, and certain violent pas-
left, and so the man has disappeared. The brain is atrophied sions, have induced serious disorders in that vital mecha-
because the man digests no longer. The progressive deterio- nism. However, we are in time to set these conditions right.
ration wrought in the epigastric region, the seat of vitality, Nothing is too seriously affected. You will easily get your
has vitiated the whole system. Thence, by continuous fe- friend round again,” he remarked to Bianchon.
vered vibrations, the disorder has reached the brain by means “Our learned colleague is taking the effect for the cause,”
of the nervous plexus, hence the excessive irritation in that Cameristus replied. “Yes, the changes that he has observed
organ. There is monomania. The patient is burdened with a so keenly certainly exist in the patient; but it is not the stom-
fixed idea. That piece of skin really contracts, to his way of ach that, by degrees, has set up nervous action in the system,
thinking; very likely it always has been as we have seen it; and so affected the brain, like a hole in a window pane spread-
but whether it contracts or no, that thing is for him just like ing cracks round about it. It took a blow of some kind to
the fly that some Grand Vizier or other had on his nose. If make a hole in the window; who gave the blow? Do we know
you put leeches at once on the epigastrium, and reduce the that? Have we investigated the patient’s case sufficiently? Are
irritation in that part, which is the very seat of man’s life, and we acquainted with all the events of his life?
if you diet the patient, the monomania will leave him. I will “The vital principle, gentlemen,” he continued, “the

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Archeus of Van Helmont, is affected in his case—the very will has so wrought that a little portion of the great All is set
essence and centre of life is attacked. The divine spark, the within us to sustain the phenomena of living; in every man
transitory intelligence which holds the organism together, it formulates itself distinctly, making each, to all appearance,
which is the source of the will, the inspiration of life, has a separate individual, yet in one point co-existent with the
ceased to regulate the daily phenomena of the mechanism infinite cause. So we ought to make a separate study of each
and the functions of every organ; thence arise all the compli- subject, discover all about it, find out in what its life con-
cations which my learned colleague has so thoroughly ap- sists, and wherein its power lies. From the softness of a wet
preciated. The epigastric region does not affect the brain but sponge to the hardness of pumice-stone there are infinite
the brain affects the epigastric region. No,” he went on, vig- fine degrees of difference. Man is just like that. Between the
orously slapping his chest, “no, I am not a stomach in the sponge-like organizations of the lymphatic and the vigorous
form of a man. No, everything does not lie there. I do not iron muscles of such men as are destined for a long life, what
feel that I have the courage to say that if the epigastric region a margin for errors for the single inflexible system of a lower-
is in good order, everything else is in a like condition— ing treatment to commit; a system that reduces the capaci-
“We cannot trace,” he went on more mildly, “to one physi- ties of the human frame, which you always conclude have
cal cause the serious disturbances that supervene in this or been over-excited. Let us look for the origin of the disease in
that subject which has been dangerously attacked, nor sub- the mental and not in the physical viscera. A doctor is an
mit them to a uniform treatment. No one man is like an- inspired being, endowed by God with a special gift—the
other. We have each peculiar organs, differently affected, di- power to read the secrets of vitality; just as the prophet has
versely nourished, adapted to perform different functions, received the eyes that foresee the future, the poet his faculty
and to induce a condition necessary to the accomplishment of evoking nature, and the musician the power of arranging
of an order of things which is unknown to us. The sublime sounds in an harmonious order that is possibly a copy of an

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ideal harmony on high.” fected his brain, or his brain his epigastric region, we shall
“There is his everlasting system of medicine, arbitrary, mo- find that out, perhaps, whenever he dies. But to resume. There
narchical, and pious,” muttered Brisset. is no disputing the fact that he is ill; some sort of treatment
“Gentlemen,” Maugredie broke in hastily, to distract at- he must have. Let us leave theories alone, and put leeches on
tention from Brisset’s comment, “don’t let us lose sight of him, to counteract the nervous and intestinal irritation, as to
the patient.” the existence of which we all agree; and let us send him to
“What is the good of science?” Raphael moaned. “Here is drink the waters, in that way we shall act on both systems at
my recovery halting between a string of beads and a rosary once. If there really is tubercular disease, we can hardly ex-
of leeches, between Dupuytren’s bistoury and Prince pect to save his life; so that—”
Hohenlohe’s prayer. There is Maugredie suspending his judg- Raphael abruptly left the passage, and went back to his
ment on the line that divides facts from words, mind from armchair. The four doctors very soon came out of the study;
matter. Man’s ‘it is,’ and ‘it is not,’ is always on my track; it is Horace was the spokesman.
the Carymary Carymara of Rabelais for evermore: my disor- “These gentlemen,” he told him, “have unanimously agreed
der is spiritual, Carymary, or material, Carymara. Shall I live? that leeches must be applied to the stomach at once, and
They have no idea. Planchette was more straightforward with that both physical and moral treatment are imperatively
me, at any rate, when he said, ‘I do not know.’ “ needed. In the first place, a carefully prescribed rule of diet,
Just then Valentin heard Maugredie’s voice. so as to soothe the internal irritation”—here Brisset signified
“The patient suffers from monomania; very good, I am his approval; “and in the second, a hygienic regimen, to set
quite of that opinion,” he said, “but he has two hundred your general condition right. We all, therefore, recommend
thousand a year; monomaniacs of that kind are very uncom- you to go to take the waters in Aix in Savoy; or, if you like it
mon. As for knowing whether his epigastric region has af- better, at Mont Dore in Auvergne; the air and the situation

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are both pleasanter in Savoy than in the Cantal, but you will known the patient for some ten years or so to obtain a good
consult your own taste.” result on these lines. Negation lies at the back of all medi-
Here it was Cameristus who nodded assent. cine, as in every other science. So endeavor to live whole-
“These gentlemen,” Bianchon continued, “having recognized somely; try a trip to Savoy; the best course is, and always will
a slight affection of the respiratory organs, are agreed as to the be, to trust to Nature.”
utility of the previous course of treatment that I have prescribed. It was a month later, on a fine summer-like evening, that
They think that there will be no difficulty about restoring you several people, who were taking the waters at Aix, returned
to health, and that everything depends upon a wise and alter- from the promenade and met together in the salons of the
nate employment of these various means. And—” Club. Raphael remained alone by a window for a long time.
“And that is the cause of the milk in the cocoanut,” said His back was turned upon the gathering, and he himself was
Raphael, with a smile, as he led Horace into his study to pay deep in those involuntary musings in which thoughts arise
the fees for this useless consultation. in succession and fade away, shaping themselves indistinctly,
“Their conclusions are logical,” the young doctor replied. passing over us like thin, almost colorless clouds. Melancholy
“Cameristus feels, Brisset examines, Maugredie doubts. Has is sweet to us then, and delight is shadowy, for the soul is
not man a soul, a body, and an intelligence? One of these half asleep. Valentin gave himself up to this life of sensa-
three elemental constituents always influences us more or tions; he was steeping himself in the warm, soft twilight,
less strongly; there will always be the personal element in enjoying the pure air with the scent of the hills in it, happy
human science. Believe me, Raphael, we effect no cures; we in that he felt no pain, and had tranquilized his threatening
only assist them. Another system—the use of mild remedies Magic Skin at last. It grew cooler as the red glow of the sun-
while Nature exerts her powers—lies between the extremes set faded on the mountain peaks; he shut the window and
of theory of Brisset and Cameristus, but one ought to have left his place.

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“Will you be so kind as not to close the windows, sir?” said reasons for the feelings he inspired in others stood out for
an old lady; “we are being stifled—” him in relief, like the veins of some corpse which a natural-
The peculiarly sharp and jarring tones in which the phrase ist, by some cunningly contrived injection, has colored so as
was uttered grated on Raphael’s ears; it fell on them like an to show their least ramifications.
indiscreet remark let slip by some man in whose friendship He discerned himself in this fleeting picture; he followed
we would fain believe, a word which reveals unsuspected out his own life in it, thought by thought, day after day. He
depths of selfishness and destroys some pleasing sentimental saw himself, not without astonishment, an absent gloomy
illusion of ours. The Marquis glanced, with the cool inscru- figure in the midst of these lively folk, always musing over
table expression of a diplomatist, at the old lady, called a his own fate, always absorbed by his own sufferings, seem-
servant, and, when he came, curtly bade him: ingly impatient of the most harmless chat. He saw how he
“Open that window.” had shunned the ephemeral intimacies that travelers are so
Great surprise was clearly expressed on all faces at the words. ready to establish—no doubt because they feel sure of never
The whole roomful began to whisper to each other, and meeting each other again—and how he had taken little heed
turned their eyes upon the invalid, as though he had given of those about him. He saw himself like the rocks without,
some serious offence. Raphael, who had never quite man- unmoved by the caresses or the stormy surgings of the waves.
aged to rid himself of the bashfulness of his early youth, felt Then, by a gift of insight seldom accorded, he read the
a momentary confusion; then he shook off his torpor, ex- thoughts of all those about him. The light of a candle re-
erted his faculties, and asked himself the meaning of this vealed the sardonic profile and yellow cranium of an old man;
strange scene. he remembered now that he had won from him, and had
A sudden and rapid impulse quickened his brain; the past never proposed that the other should have his revenge; a little
weeks appeared before him in a clear and definite vision; the further on he saw a pretty woman, whose lively advances he

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had met with frigid coolness; there was not a face there that fore, had instinctively combined to make him feel their power,
did not reproach him with some wrong done, inexplicably and to take revenge upon this incipient royalty by submit-
to all appearance, but the real offence in every case lay in ting him to a kind of ostracism, and so teaching him that
some mortification, some invisible hurt dealt to self-love. they in their turn could do without him.
He had unintentionally jarred on all the small susceptibili- Pity came over him, first of all, at this aspect of mankind,
ties of the circle round about him. but very soon he shuddered at the thought of the power that
His guests on various occasions, and those to whom he came thus, at will, and flung aside for him the veil of flesh
had lent his horses, had taken offence at his luxurious ways; under which the moral nature is hidden away. He closed his
their ungraciousness had been a surprise to him; he had spared eyes, so as to see no more. A black curtain was drawn all at
them further humiliations of that kind, and they had con- once over this unlucky phantom show of truth; but still he
sidered that he looked down upon them, and had accused found himself in the terrible loneliness that surrounds every
him of haughtiness ever since. He could read their inmost power and dominion. Just then a violent fit of coughing seized
thoughts as he fathomed their natures in this way. Society him. Far from receiving one single word—indifferent, and
with its polish and varnish grew loathsome to him. He was meaningless, it is true, but still containing, among well-bred
envied and hated for his wealth and superior ability; his re- people brought together by chance, at least some pretence of
serve baffled the inquisitive; his humility seemed like haugh- civil commiseration—he now heard hostile ejaculations and
tiness to these petty superficial natures. He guessed the se- muttered complaints. Society there assembled disdained any
cret unpardonable crime which he had committed against pantomime on his account, perhaps because he had gauged
them; he had overstepped the limits of the jurisdiction of its real nature too well.
their mediocrity. He had resisted their inquisitorial tyranny; “His complaint is contagious.”
he could dispense with their society; and all of them, there- “The president of the Club ought to forbid him to enter

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the salon.” society; its inexorable nature was becoming apparent in its
“It is contrary to all rules and regulations to cough in that entirety to Raphael’s eyes. A glance into the past showed it
way!” to him, as a type completely realized in Foedora.
“When a man is as ill as that, he ought not to come to take He would no more meet with sympathy here for his bodily
the waters—” ills than he had received it at her hands for the distress in his
“He will drive me away from the place.” heart. The fashionable world expels every suffering creature
Raphael rose and walked about the rooms to screen him- from its midst, just as the body of a man in robust health
self from their unanimous execrations. He thought to find a rejects any germ of disease. The world holds suffering and
shelter, and went up to a young pretty lady who sat doing misfortune in abhorrence; it dreads them like the plague; it
nothing, minded to address some pretty speeches to her; but never hesitates between vice and trouble, for vice is a luxury.
as he came towards her, she turned her back upon him, and Ill-fortune may possess a majesty of its own, but society can
pretended to be watching the dancers. Raphael feared lest he belittle it and make it ridiculous by an epigram. Society draws
might have made use of the talisman already that evening; caricatures, and in this way flings in the teeth of fallen kings
and feeling that he had neither the wish nor the courage to the affronts which it fancies it has received from them; society,
break into the conversation, he left the salon and took ref- like the Roman youth at the circus, never shows mercy to the
uge in the billiard-room. No one there greeted him, nobody fallen gladiator; mockery and money are its vital necessities.
spoke to him, no one sent so much as a friendly glance in his “Death to the weak!” That is the oath taken by this kind of
direction. His turn of mind, naturally meditative, had dis- Equestrian order, instituted in their midst by all the nations of
covered instinctively the general grounds and reasons for the the world; everywhere it makes for the elevation of the rich,
aversion he inspired. This little world was obeying, uncon- and its motto is deeply graven in hearts that wealth has turned
sciously perhaps, the sovereign law which rules over polite to stone, or that have been reared in aristocratic prejudices.

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Assemble a collection of school-boys together. That will your solitary attics. If the world tolerates misery of any kind,
give you a society in miniature, a miniature which represents it is to turn it to account for its own purposes, to make some
life more truly, because it is so frank and artless; and in it you use of it, saddle and bridle it, put a bit in its mouth, ride it
will always find poor isolated beings, relegated to some place about, and get some fun out of it.
in the general estimations between pity and contempt, on Crotchety spinsters, ladies’ companions, put a cheerful face
account of their weakness and suffering. To these the Evan- upon it, endure the humors of your so-called benefactress,
gel promises heaven hereafter. Go lower yet in the scale of carry her lapdogs for her; you have an English poodle for your
organized creation. If some bird among its fellows in the rival, and you must seek to understand the moods of your
courtyard sickens, the others fall upon it with their beaks, patroness, and amuse her, and—keep silence about yourselves.
pluck out its feathers, and kill it. The whole world, in accor- As for you, unblushing parasite, uncrowned king of unliveried
dance with its character of egotism, brings all its severity to servants, leave your real character at home, let your digestion
bear upon wretchedness that has the hardihood to spoil its keep pace with your host’s laugh when he laughs, mingle your
festivities, and to trouble its joys. tears with his, and find his epigrams amusing; if you want to
Any sufferer in mind or body, any helpless or poor man, is relieve your mind about him, wait till he is ruined. That is the
a pariah. He had better remain in his solitude; if he crosses way the world shows its respect for the unfortunate; it perse-
the boundary-line, he will find winter everywhere; he will cutes them, or slays them in the dust.
find freezing cold in other men’s looks, manners, words, and Such thoughts as these welled up in Raphael’s heart with
hearts; and lucky indeed is he if he does not receive an insult the suddenness of poetic inspiration. He looked around him,
where he expected that sympathy would be expended upon and felt the influence of the forbidding gloom that society
him. Let the dying keep to their bed of neglect, and age sit breathes out in order to rid itself of the unfortunate; it nipped
lonely by its fireside. Portionless maids, freeze and burn in his soul more effectually than the east wind grips the body

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in December. He locked his arms over his chest, set his back man, who, out of sheer devotion to his patients, had com-
against the wall, and fell into a deep melancholy. He mused pelled himself to learn to play whist and tric-trac so well that
upon the meagre happiness that this depressing way of liv- he never lost money to any of them.
ing can give. What did it amount to? Amusement with no “My Lord Marquis,” said he, after a long talk with Raphael,
pleasure in it, gaiety without gladness, joyless festivity, fe- “I can dispel your uneasiness beyond all doubt. I know your
vered dreams empty of all delight, firewood or ashes on the constitution well enough by this time to assure you that the
hearth without a spark of flame in them. When he raised his doctors in Paris, whose great abilities I know, are mistaken as
head, he found himself alone, all the billiard players had gone. to the nature of your complaint. You can live as long as
“I have only to let them know my power to make them Methuselah, my Lord Marquis, accidents only excepted. Your
worship my coughing fits,” he said to himself, and wrapped lungs are as sound as a blacksmith’s bellows, your stomach
himself against the world in the cloak of his contempt. would put an ostrich to the blush; but if you persist in living
Next day the resident doctor came to call upon him, and at high altitude, you are running the risk of a prompt inter-
took an anxious interest in his health. Raphael felt a thrill of ment in consecrated soil. A few words, my Lord Marquis,
joy at the friendly words addressed to him. The doctor’s face, will make my meaning clear to you.
to his thinking, wore an expression that was kind and pleas- “Chemistry,” he began, “has shown us that man’s breath-
ant; the pale curls of his wig seemed redolent of philanthropy; ing is a real process of combustion, and the intensity of its
the square cut of his coat, the loose folds of his trousers, his action varies according to the abundance or scarcity of the
big Quaker-like shoes, everything about him down to the phlogistic element stored up by the organism of each indi-
powder shaken from his queue and dusted in a circle upon vidual. In your case, the phlogistic, or inflammatory element
his slightly stooping shoulders, revealed an apostolic nature, is abundant; if you will permit me to put it so, you generate
and spoke of Christian charity and of the self-sacrifice of a superfluous oxygen, possessing as you do the inflammatory

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temperament of a man destined to experience strong emo- mad English people, and fine ladies who had given their
tions. While you breath the keen, pure air that stimulates husbands the slip, and were escorted hither by their lovers—
life in men of lymphatic constitution, you are accelerating one and all were in a plot to drive away a wretched, feeble
an expenditure of vitality already too rapid. One of the con- creature to die, who seemed unable to hold out against a
ditions for existence for you is the heavier atmosphere of the daily renewed persecution! Raphael accepted the challenge,
plains and valleys. Yes, the vital air for a man consumed by he foresaw some amusement to be derived from their
his genius lies in the fertile pasture-lands of Germany, at manoeuvres.
Toplitz or Baden-Baden. If England is not obnoxious to you, “As you would be grieved at losing me,” said he to the
its misty climate would reduce your fever; but the situation doctor, “I will endeavor to avail myself of your good advice
of our baths, a thousand feet above the level of the Mediter- without leaving the place. I will set about having a house
ranean, is dangerous for you. That is my opinion at least,” built to-morrow, and the atmosphere within it shall be regu-
he said, with a deprecatory gesture, “and I give it in opposi- lated by your instructions.”
tion to our interests, for, if you act upon it, we shall unfortu- The doctor understood the sarcastic smile that lurked about
nately lose you.” Raphael’s mouth, and took his leave without finding another
But for these closing words of his, the affable doctor’s seem- word to say.
ing good-nature would have completely won Raphael over; The Lake of Bourget lies seven hundred feet above the
but he was too profoundly observant not to understand the Mediterranean, in a great hollow among the jagged peaks of
meaning of the tone, the look and gesture that accompanied the hills; it sparkles there, the bluest drop of water in the
that mild sarcasm, not to see that the little man had been world. From the summit of the Cat’s Tooth the lake below
sent on this errand, no doubt, by a flock of his rejoicing looks like a stray turquoise. This lovely sheet of water is about
patients. The florid-looking idlers, tedious old women, no- twenty-seven miles round, and in some places is nearly five

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hundred feet deep. row that grows less beneath its soothing influence; and to
Under the cloudless sky, in your boat in the midst of the love, it gives a grave and meditative cast, deepening passion
great expanse of water, with only the sound of the oars in and purifying it. A kiss there becomes something great. But
your ears, only the vague outline of the hills on the horizon beyond all other things it is the lake for memories; it aids
before you; you admire the glittering snows of the French them by lending to them the hues of its own waves; it is a
Maurienne; you pass, now by masses of granite clad in the mirror in which everything is reflected. Only here, with this
velvet of green turf or in low-growing shrubs, now by pleas- lovely landscape all around him, could Raphael endure the
ant sloping meadows; there is always a wilderness on the one burden laid upon him; here he could remain as a languid
hand and fertile lands on the other, and both harmonies and dreamer, without a wish of his own.
dissonances compose a scene for you where everything is at He went out upon the lake after the doctor’s visit, and was
once small and vast, and you feel yourself to be a poor on- landed at a lonely point on the pleasant slope where the vil-
looker at a great banquet. The configuration of the moun- lage of Saint-Innocent is situated. The view from this prom-
tains brings about misleading optical conditions and illu- ontory, as one may call it, comprises the heights of Bugey
sions of perspective; a pine-tree a hundred feet in height looks with the Rhone flowing at their foot, and the end of the
to be a mere weed; wide valleys look as narrow as meadow lake; but Raphael liked to look at the opposite shore from
paths. The lake is the only one where the confidences of thence, at the melancholy looking Abbey of Haute-Combe,
heart and heart can be exchanged. There one can live; there the burying-place of the Sardinian kings, who lie prostrate
one can meditate. Nowhere on earth will you find a closer there before the hills, like pilgrims come at last to their
understanding between the water, the sky, the mountains, journey’s end. The silence of the landscape was broken by
and the fields. There is a balm there for all the agitations of the even rhythm of the strokes of the oar; it seemed to find a
life. The place keeps the secrets of sorrow to itself, the sor- voice for the place, in monotonous cadences like the chant-

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ing of monks. The Marquis was surprised to find visitors to upon her charms and perfections. In addition, her movements
this usually lonely part of the lake; and as he mused, he were all demure and discreet, like those of women who are
watched the people seated in the boat, and recognized in the accustomed to take great care of themselves, no doubt because
stern the elderly lady who had spoken so harshly to him the they desire not to be cheated of love, their destined end.
evening before. “Your life is in danger, sir; do not come to the Club again!”
No one took any notice of Raphael as the boat passed, she said, stepping back a pace or two from Raphael, as if her
except the elderly lady’s companion, a poor old maid of noble reputation had already been compromised.
family, who bowed to him, and whom it seemed to him that “But, mademoiselle,” said Raphael, smiling, “please explain
he saw for the first time. A few seconds later he had already yourself more clearly, since you have condescended so far—”
forgotten the visitors, who had rapidly disappeared behind “Ah,” she answered, “unless I had had a very strong mo-
the promontory, when he heard the fluttering of a dress and tive, I should never have run the risk of offending the count-
the sound of light footsteps not far from him. He turned ess, for if she ever came to know that I had warned you—”
about and saw the companion; and, guessing from her em- “And who would tell her, mademoiselle?” cried Raphael.
barrassed manner that she wished to speak with him, he “True,” the old maid answered. She looked at him, quak-
walked towards her. ing like an owl out in the sunlight. “But think of yourself,”
She was somewhere about thirty-six years of age, thin and she went on; “several young men, who want to drive you
tall, reserved and prim, and, like all old maids, seemed puzzled away from the baths, have agreed to pick a quarrel with you,
to know which way to look, an expression no longer in keep- and to force you into a duel.”
ing with her measured, springless, and hesitating steps. She The elderly lady’s voice sounded in the distance.
was both young and old at the same time, and, by a certain “Mademoiselle,” began the Marquis, “my gratitude—” But
dignity in her carriage, showed the high value which she set his protectress had fled already; she had heard the voice of

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her mistress squeaking afresh among the rocks. mots; they ask if day has dawned at noon; and to think that
“Poor girl! unhappiness always understands and helps the they could get up this morning before eight o’clock, to take
unhappy,” Raphael thought, and sat himself down at the their chances in running after me!”
foot of a tree. Very soon the old maid and her elderly innocence became,
The key of every science is, beyond cavil, the mark of in- in his eyes, a fresh manifestation of that artificial, malicious
terrogation; we owe most of our greatest discoveries to a why? little world. It was a paltry device, a clumsy artifice, a piece
and all the wisdom in the world, perhaps, consists in asking of priest’s or woman’s craft. Was the duel a myth, or did they
wherefore? in every connection. But, on the other hand, this merely want to frighten him? But these petty creatures, im-
acquired prescience is the ruin of our illusions. pudent and teasing as flies, had succeeded in wounding his
So Valentin, having taken the old maid’s kindly action for vanity, in rousing his pride, and exciting his curiosity. Un-
the text of his wandering thoughts, without the deliberate willing to become their dupe, or to be taken for a coward,
promptings of philosophy, must find it full of gall and worm- and even diverted perhaps by the little drama, he went to the
wood. Club that very evening.
“It is not at all extraordinary that a gentlewoman’s gentle- He stood leaning against the marble chimney-piece, and
woman should take a fancy to me,” said he to himself. “I am stayed there quietly in the middle of the principal saloon,
twenty-seven years old, and I have a title and an income of doing his best to give no one any advantage over him; but he
two hundred thousand a year. But that her mistress, who scrutinized the faces about him, and gave a certain vague
hates water like a rabid cat—for it would be hard to give the offence to those assembled, by his inspection. Like a dog
palm to either in that matter—that her mistress should have aware of his strength, he awaited the contest on his own
brought her here in a boat! Is not that very strange and won- ground, without necessary barking. Towards the end of the
derful? Those two women came into Savoy to sleep like mar- evening he strolled into the cardroom, walking between the

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door and another that opened into the billiard-room, throw- and I beg that you will not show yourself in the Club again.”
ing a glance from time to time over a group of young men “This sort of joke has been perpetrated before, sir, in garri-
that had gathered there. He heard his name mentioned after son towns at the time of the Empire; but nowadays it is ex-
a turn or two. Although they lowered their voices, Raphael ceedingly bad form,” said Raphael drily.
easily guessed that he had become the topic of their debate, “I am not joking,” the young man answered; “and I repeat
and he ended by catching a phrase or two spoken aloud. it: your health will be considerably the worse for a stay here;
“You?” the heat and light, the air of the saloon, and the company
“Yes, I.” are all bad for your complaint.”
“I dare you to do it!” “Where did you study medicine?” Raphael inquired.
“Let us make a bet on it!” “I took my bachelor’s degree on Lepage’s shooting-ground
“Oh, he will do it.” in Paris, and was made a doctor at Cerizier’s, the king of foils.”
Just as Valentin, curious to learn the matter of the wager, “There is one last degree left for you to take,” said Valentin;
came up to pay closer attention to what they were saying, a “study the ordinary rules of politeness, and you will be a
tall, strong, good-looking young fellow, who, however, pos- perfect gentlemen.”
sessed the impertinent stare peculiar to people who have The young men all came out of the billiard-room just then,
material force at their back, came out of the billiard-room. some disposed to laugh, some silent. The attention of other
“I am deputed, sir,” he said coolly addressing the Marquis, players was drawn to the matter; they left their cards to watch
“to make you aware of something which you do not seem to a quarrel that rejoiced their instincts. Raphael, alone among
know; your face and person generally are a source of annoy- this hostile crowd, did his best to keep cool, and not to put
ance to every one here, and to me in particular. You have too himself in any way in the wrong; but his adversary having
much politeness not to sacrifice yourself to the public good, ventured a sarcasm containing an insult couched in unusu-

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 The Magic Skin
ally keen language, he replied gravely: low twig alone, or you will weary your wrist, and then you
“We cannot box men’s ears, sir, in these days, but I am at a will not fire steadily. You might kill your man instead of
loss for any word by which to stigmatize such cowardly be- wounding him.”
havior as yours.” The noise of a carriage was heard approaching.
“That’s enough, that’s enough. You can come to an expla- “Here he is,” said the seconds, who soon descried a caleche
nation to-morrow,” several young men exclaimed, interpos- coming along the road; it was drawn by four horses, and
ing between the two champions. there were two postilions.
Raphael left the room in the character of aggressor, after “What a queer proceeding!” said Valentin’s antagonist; “here
he had accepted a proposal to meet near the Chateau de he comes post-haste to be shot.”
Bordeau, in a little sloping meadow, not very far from the The slightest incident about a duel, as about a stake at
newly made road, by which the man who came off victori- cards, makes an impression on the minds of those deeply
ous could reach Lyons. Raphael must now either take to his concerned in the results of the affair; so the young man
bed or leave the baths. The visitors had gained their point. awaited the arrival of the carriage with a kind of uneasiness.
At eight o’clock next morning his antagonist, followed by It stopped in the road; old Jonathan laboriously descended
two seconds and a surgeon, arrived first on the ground. from it, in the first place, to assist Raphael to alight; he sup-
“We shall do very nicely here; glorious weather for a duel!” ported him with his feeble arms, and showed him all the
he cried gaily, looking at the blue vault of sky above, at the minute attentions that a lover lavishes upon his mistress. Both
waters of the lake, and the rocks, without a single melan- became lost to sight in the footpath that lay between the
choly presentiment or doubt of the issue. “If I wing him,” he highroad and the field where the duel was to take place; they
went on, “I shall send him to bed for a month; eh, doctor?” were walking slowly, and did not appear again for some time
“At the very least,” the surgeon replied; “but let that wil- after. The four onlookers at this strange spectacle felt deeply

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 Balzac
moved by the sight of Valentin as he leaned on his servant’s I have only to wish to do so, and I can neutralize your skill,
arm; he was wasted and pale; he limped as if he had the dim your eyesight, make your hand and pulse unsteady, and
gout, went with his head bowed down, and said not a word. even kill you outright. I have no wish to be compelled to
You might have taken them for a couple of old men, one exercise my power; the use of it costs me too dear. You would
broken with years, the other worn out with thought; the not be the only one to die. So if you refuse to apologize to
elder bore his age visibly written in his white hair, the younger me, not matter what your experience in murder, your ball
was of no age. will go into the waterfall there, and mine will speed straight
“I have not slept all night, sir;” so Raphael greeted his an- to your heart though I do not aim it at you.”
tagonist. Confused voices interrupted Raphael at this point. All the
The icy tone and terrible glance that went with the words time that he was speaking, the Marquis had kept his intoler-
made the real aggressor shudder; he know that he was in the ably keen gaze fixed upon his antagonist; now he drew him-
wrong, and felt in secret ashamed of his behavior. There was self up and showed an impassive face, like that of a danger-
something strange in Raphael’s bearing, tone, and gesture; ous madman.
the Marquis stopped, and every one else was likewise silent. “Make him hold his tongue,” the young man had said to
The uneasy and constrained feeling grew to a height. one of his seconds; “that voice of his is tearing the heart out
“There is yet time,” he went on, “to offer me some slight of me.”
apology; and offer it you must, or you will die sir! You rely “Say no more, sir; it is quite useless,” cried the seconds and
even now on your dexterity, and do not shrink from an en- the surgeon, addressing Raphael.
counter in which you believe all the advantage to be upon “Gentlemen, I am fulfilling a duty. Has this young gentle-
your side. Very good, sir; I am generous, I am letting you man any final arrangements to make?”
know my superiority beforehand. I possess a terrible power. “That is enough; that will do.”

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The Marquis remained standing steadily, never for a mo- have put me facing the sun—”
ment losing sight of his antagonist; and the latter seemed, “The sun lies behind you,” said Valentin sternly and sol-
like a bird before a snake, to be overwhelmed by a well-nigh emnly, while he coolly loaded his pistol without heeding the
magical power. He was compelled to endure that homicidal fact that the signal had been given, or that his antagonist was
gaze; he met and shunned it incessantly. carefully taking aim.
“I am thirsty; give me some water——” he said again to There was something so appalling in this supernatural un-
the second. concern, that it affected even the two postilions, brought
“Are you nervous?” thither by a cruel curiosity. Raphael was either trying his
“Yes,” he answered. “There is a fascination about that man’s power or playing with it, for he talked to Jonathan, and looked
glowing eyes.” towards him as he received his adversary’s fire. Charles’ bul-
“Will you apologize?” let broke a branch of willow, and ricocheted over the surface
“It is too late now.” of the water; Raphael fired at random, and shot his antago-
The two antagonists were placed at fifteen paces’ distance nist through the heart. He did not heed the young man as he
from each other. Each of them had a brace of pistols at hand, dropped; he hurriedly sought the Magic Skin to see what
and, according to the programme prescribed for them, each another man’s life had cost him. The talisman was no larger
was to fire twice when and how he pleased, but after the than a small oak-leaf.
signal had been given by the seconds. “What are you gaping at, you postilions over there? Let us
“What are you doing, Charles?” exclaimed the young man be off,” said the Marquis.
who acted as second to Raphael’s antagonist; “you are put- That same evening he crossed the French border, immedi-
ting in the ball before the powder!” ately set out for Auvergne, and reached the springs of Mont
“I am a dead man,” he muttered, by way of answer; “you Dore. As he traveled, there surged up in his heart, all at once,

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one of those thoughts that come to us as a ray of sunlight The day after he arrived he climbed the Pic de Sancy, not
pierces through the thick mists in some dark valley—a sad without difficulty, and visited the higher valleys, the skyey
enlightenment, a pitiless sagacity that lights up the accom- nooks, undiscovered lakes, and peasants’ huts about Mont
plished fact for us, that lays our errors bare, and leaves us with- Dore, a country whose stern and wild features are now be-
out excuse in our own eyes. It suddenly struck him that the ginning to tempt the brushes of our artists, for sometimes
possession of power, no matter how enormous, did not bring wonderfully fresh and charming views are to be found there,
with it the knowledge how to use it. The sceptre is a plaything affording a strong contrast to the frowning brows of those
for a child, an axe for a Richelieu, and for a Napoleon a lever lonely hills.
by which to move the world. Power leaves us just as it finds us; Barely a league from the village Raphael discovered a nook
only great natures grow greater by its means. Raphael had had where nature seemed to have taken a pleasure in hiding away
everything in his power, and he had done nothing. all her treasures like some glad and mischievous child. At the
At the springs of Mont Dore he came again in contact first sight of this unspoiled and picturesque retreat, he deter-
with a little world of people, who invariably shunned him mined to take up his abode in it. There, life must needs be
with the eager haste that animals display when they scent peaceful, natural, and fruitful, like the life of a plant.
afar off one of their own species lying dead, and flee away. Imagine for yourself an inverted cone of granite hollowed
The dislike was mutual. His late adventure had given him a out on a large scale, a sort of basin with its sides divided up
deep distaste for society; his first care, consequently, was to by queer winding paths. On one side lay level stretches with
find a lodging at some distance from the neighborhood of no growth upon them, a bluish uniform surface, over which
the springs. Instinctively he felt within him the need of close the rays of the sun fell as upon a mirror; on the other lay
contact with nature, of natural emotions, and of the vegeta- cliffs split open by fissures and frowning ravines; great blocks
tive life into which we sink so gladly among the fields. of lava hung suspended from them, while the action of rain

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slowly prepared their impending fall; a few stunted trees tor- for the cows to pass between them.
mented by the wind, often crowned their summits; and here After a certain height the plant life ceased. Aloft in air the
and there in some sheltered angle of their ramparts a clump granite took upon itself the most fantastic shapes, and as-
of chestnut-trees grew tall as cedars, or some cavern in the sumed those misty tints that give to high mountains a dim
yellowish rocks showed the dark entrance into its depths, set resemblance to clouds in the sky. The bare, bleak cliffs, with
about by flowers and brambles, decked by a little strip of the fearful rents in their sides, pictures of wild and barren
green turf. desolation, contrasted strongly with the pretty view of the
At the bottom of this cup, which perhaps had been the valley; and so strange were the shapes they assumed, that
crater of an old-world volcano, lay a pool of water as pure one of the cliffs had been called “The Capuchin,” because it
and bright as a diamond. Granite boulders lay around the was so like a monk. Sometimes these sharp-pointed peaks,
deep basin, and willows, mountain-ash trees, yellow-flag lil- these mighty masses of rock, and airy caverns were lighted
ies, and numberless aromatic plants bloomed about it, in a up one by one, according to the direction of the sun or the
realm of meadow as fresh as an English bowling-green. The caprices of the atmosphere; they caught gleams of gold, dyed
fine soft grass was watered by the streams that trickled through themselves in purple; took a tint of glowing rose-color, or
the fissures in the cliffs; the soil was continually enriched by turned dull and gray. Upon the heights a drama of color was
the deposits of loam which storms washed down from the always to be seen, a play of ever-shifting iridescent hues like
heights above. The pool might be some three acres in extent; those on a pigeon’s breast.
its shape was irregular, and the edges were scalloped like the Oftentimes at sunrise or at sunset a ray of bright sunlight
hem of a dress; the meadow might be an acre or two acres in would penetrate between two sheer surfaces of lava, that
extent. The cliffs and the water approached and receded from might have been split apart by a hatchet, to the very depths
each other; here and there, there was scarcely width enough of that pleasant little garden, where it would play in the wa-

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ters of the pool, like a beam of golden light which gleams the inmates of the cottage seemed to pay no attention to the
through the chinks of a shutter into a room in Spain, that growth which adorned their house, and to take no care of it,
has been carefully darkened for a siesta. When the sun rose leaving to it the fresh capricious charm of nature.
above the old crater that some antediluvian revolution had Some clothes spread out on the gooseberry bushes were
filled with water, its rocky sides took warmer tones, the ex- drying in the sun. A cat was sitting on a machine for strip-
tinct volcano glowed again, and its sudden heat quickened ping hemp; beneath it lay a newly scoured brass caldron,
the sprouting seeds and vegetation, gave color to the flowers, among a quantity of potato-parings. On the other side of
and ripened the fruits of this forgotten corner of the earth. the house Raphael saw a sort of barricade of dead thorn-
As Raphael reached it, he noticed several cows grazing in bushes, meant no doubt to keep the poultry from scratching
the pasture-land; and when he had taken a few steps towards up the vegetables and pot-herbs. It seemed like the end of
the water, he saw a little house built of granite and roofed the earth. The dwelling was like some bird’s-nest ingeniously
with shingle in the spot where the meadowland was at its set in a cranny of the rocks, a clever and at the same time a
widest. The roof of this little cottage harmonized with ev- careless bit of workmanship. A simple and kindly nature lay
erything about it; for it had long been overgrown with ivy, round about it; its rusticity was genuine, but there was a
moss, and flowers of no recent date. A thin smoke, that did charm like that of poetry in it; for it grew and throve at a
not scare the birds away, went up from the dilapidated chim- thousand miles’ distance from our elaborate and conventional
ney. There was a great bench at the door between two huge poetry. It was like none of our conceptions; it was a sponta-
honey-suckle bushes, that were pink with blossom and full neous growth, a masterpiece due to chance.
of scent. The walls could scarcely be seen for branches of As Raphael reached the place, the sunlight fell across it
vine and sprays of rose and jessamine that interlaced and from right to left, bringing out all the colors of its plants and
grew entirely as chance and their own will bade them; for trees; the yellowish or gray bases of the crags, the different

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shades of the green leaves, the masses of flowers, pink, blue, dogs broke the stillness all at once; the cows turned their
or white, the climbing plants with their bell-like blossoms, heads towards the entrance of the valley, showing their moist
and the shot velvet of the mosses, the purple-tinted blooms noses to Raphael, stared stupidly at him, and then fell to
of the heather,—everything was either brought into relief or browsing again. A goat and her kid, that seemed to hang on
made fairer yet by the enchantment of the light or by the the side of the crags in some magical fashion, capered and
contrasting shadows; and this was the case most of all with leapt to a slab of granite near to Raphael, and stayed there a
the sheet of water, wherein the house, the trees, the granite moment, as if to seek to know who he was. The yapping of
peaks, and the sky were all faithfully reflected. Everything the dogs brought out a plump child, who stood agape, and
had a radiance of its own in this delightful picture, from the next came a white-haired old man of middle height. Both of
sparkling mica-stone to the bleached tuft of grass hidden these two beings were in keeping with the surroundings, the
away in the soft shadows; the spotted cow with its glossy air, the flowers, and the dwelling. Health appeared to over-
hide, the delicate water-plants that hung down over the pool flow in this fertile region; old age and childhood thrived there.
like fringes in a nook where blue or emerald colored insects There seemed to be, about all these types of existence, the
were buzzing about, the roots of trees like a sand-besprinkled freedom and carelessness of the life of primitive times, a hap-
shock of hair above grotesque faces in the flinty rock sur- piness of use and wont that gave the lie to our philosophical
face,—all these things made a harmony for the eye. platitudes, and wrought a cure of all its swelling passions in
The odor of the tepid water; the scent of the flowers, and the heart.
the breath of the caverns which filled the lonely place gave The old man belonged to the type of model dear to the
Raphael a sensation that was almost enjoyment. Silence masculine brush of Schnetz. The countless wrinkles upon
reigned in majesty over these woods, which possibly are un- his brown face looked as if they would be hard to the touch;
known to the tax-collector; but the barking of a couple of the straight nose, the prominent cheek-bones, streaked with

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red veins like a vine-leaf in autumn, the angular features, all came. She was an Auvergnate, a high-colored, comfortable-
were characteristics of strength, even where strength existed looking, straightforward sort of person, with white teeth;
no longer. The hard hands, now that they toiled no longer, her cap and dress, the face, full figure, and general appear-
had preserved their scanty white hair, his bearing was that of ance, were of the Auvergne peasant stamp. So was her dia-
an absolutely free man; it suggested the thought that, had he lect; she was a thorough embodiment of her district; its
been an Italian, he would have perhaps turned brigand, for hardworking ways, its thrift, ignorance, and heartiness all
the love of the liberty so dear to him. The child was a regular met in her.
mountaineer, with the black eyes that can face the sun with- She greeted Raphael, and they began to talk. The dogs
out flinching, a deeply tanned complexion, and rough brown quieted down; the old man went and sat on a bench in the
hair. His movements were like a bird’s—swift, decided, and sun; the child followed his mother about wherever she went,
unconstrained; his clothing was ragged; the white, fair skin listening without saying a word, and staring at the stranger.
showed through the rents in his garments. There they both “You are not afraid to live here, good woman?”
stood in silence, side by side, both obeying the same im- “What should we be afraid of, sir? When we bolt the door,
pulse; in both faces were clear tokens of an absolutely identi- who ever could get inside? Oh, no, we aren’t afraid at all.
cal and idle life. The old man had adopted the child’s amuse- And besides,” she said, as she brought the Marquis into the
ments, and the child had fallen in with the old man’s humor; principal room in the house, “what should thieves come to
there was a sort of tacit agreement between two kinds of take from us here?”
feebleness, between failing powers well-nigh spent and pow- She designated the room as she spoke; the smoke-black-
ers just about to unfold themselves. ened walls, with some brilliant pictures in blue, red, and green,
Very soon a woman who seemed to be about thirty years an “End of Credit,” a Crucifixion, and the “Grenadiers of
old appeared on the threshold of the door, spinning as she the Imperial Guard” for their sole ornament; the furniture

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here and there, the old wooden four-post bedstead, the table him the prime model, after which the customary existence
with crooked legs, a few stools, the chest that held the bread, of the individual should be shaped, the real formula for the
the flitch that hung from the ceiling, a jar of salt, a stove, life of a human being, the only true and possible life, the
and on the mantleshelf a few discolored yellow plaster fig- life-ideal, was to become one of the oysters adhering to this
ures. As he went out again Raphael noticed a man half-way rock, to save his shell a day or two longer by paralyzing the
up the crags, leaning on a hoe, and watching the house with power of death. One profoundly selfish thought took pos-
interest. session of him, and the whole universe was swallowed up
“That’s my man, sir,” said the Auvergnate, unconsciously and lost in it. For him the universe existed no longer; the
smiling in peasant fashion; “he is at work up there.” whole world had come to be within himself. For the sick,
“And that old man is your father?” the world begins at their pillow and ends at the foot of the
“Asking your pardon, sir, he is my man’s grandfather. Such bed; and this countryside was Raphael’s sick-bed.
as you see him, he is a hundred and two, and yet quite lately Who has not, at some time or other in his life, watched the
he walked over to Clermont with our little chap! Oh, he has comings and goings of an ant, slipped straws into a yellow
been a strong man in his time; but he does nothing now but slug’s one breathing-hole, studied the vagaries of a slender
sleep and eat and drink. He amuses himself with the little dragon-fly, pondered admiringly over the countless veins in
fellow. Sometimes the child trails him up the hillsides, and an oak-leaf, that bring the colors of a rose window in some
he will just go up there along with him.” Gothic cathedral into contrast with the reddish background?
Valentin made up his mind immediately. He would live Who has not looked long in delight at the effects of sun and
between this child and old man, breathe the same air; eat rain on a roof of brown tiles, at the dewdrops, or at the vari-
their bread, drink the same water, sleep with them, make the ously shaped petals of the flower-cups? Who has not sunk
blood in his veins like theirs. It was a dying man’s fancy. For into these idle, absorbing meditations on things without, that

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have no conscious end, yet lead to some definite thought at last. He succeeded in becoming an integral part of the great and
Who, in short, has not led a lazy life, the life of childhood, the mighty fruit-producing organization; he had adapted him-
life of the savage without his labor? This life without a care or a self to the inclemency of the air, and had dwelt in every cave
wish Raphael led for some days’ space. He felt a distinct im- among the rocks. He had learned the ways and habits of
provement in his condition, a wonderful sense of ease, that qui- growth of every plant, had studied the laws of the water-
eted his apprehensions and soothed his sufferings. courses and their beds, and had come to know the animals;
He would climb the crags, and then find a seat high up on he was at last so perfectly at one with this teeming earth, that
some peak whence he could see a vast expanse of distant he had in some sort discerned its mysteries and caught the
country at a glance, and he would spend whole days in this spirit of it.
way, like a plant in the sun, or a hare in its form. And at last, The infinitely varied forms of every natural kingdom were,
growing familiar with the appearances of the plant-life about to his thinking, only developments of one and the same sub-
him, and of the changes in the sky, he minutely noted the stance, different combinations brought about by the same
progress of everything working around him in the water, on impulse, endless emanations from a measureless Being which
the earth, or in the air. He tried to share the secret impulses was acting, thinking, moving, and growing, and in harmony
of nature, sought by passive obedience to become a part of with which he longed to grow, to move, to think, and act.
it, and to lie within the conservative and despotic jurisdic- He had fancifully blended his life with the life of the crags;
tion that regulates instinctive existence. He no longer wished he had deliberately planted himself there. During the earli-
to steer his own course. est days of his sojourn in these pleasant surroundings, Valentin
Just as criminals in olden times were safe from the pursuit tasted all the pleasures of childhood again, thanks to the
of justice, if they took refuge under the shadow of the altar, strange hallucination of apparent convalescence, which is not
so Raphael made an effort to slip into the sanctuary of life. unlike the pauses of delirium that nature mercifully provides

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for those in pain. He went about making trifling discoveries, body is as thin as a nail. And he does not feel well now; but
setting to work on endless things, and finishing none of them; no matter. It’s all the same; he wears himself out with run-
the evening’s plans were quite forgotten in the morning; he ning about as if he had health and to spare. All the same, he
had no cares, he was happy; he thought himself saved. is very brave, for he never complains at all. But really he
One morning he had lain in bed till noon, deep in the would be better under the earth than on it, for he is endur-
dreams between sleep and waking, which give to realities a ing the agonies of Christ. I don’t wish that myself, sir; it is
fantastic appearance, and make the wildest fancies seem solid quite in our interests; but even if he didn’t pay us what he
facts; while he was still uncertain that he was not dreaming does, I should be just as fond of him; it is not our own inter-
yet, he suddenly heard his hostess giving a report of his health est that is our motive.
to Jonathan, for the first time. Jonathan came to inquire af- “Ah, mon Dieu!” she continued, “Parisians are the people
ter him daily, and the Auvergnate, thinking no doubt that for these dogs’ diseases. Where did he catch it, now? Poor
Valentin was still asleep, had not lowered the tones of a voice young man! And he is so sure that he is going to get well!
developed in mountain air. That fever just gnaws him, you know; it eats him away; it
“No better and no worse,” she said. “He coughed all last will be the death of him. He has no notion whatever of that;
night again fit to kill himself. Poor gentleman, he coughs he does not know it, sir; he sees nothing——You mustn’t
and spits till it is piteous. My husband and I often wonder to cry about him, M. Jonathan; you must remember that he
each other where he gets the strength from to cough like will be happy, and will not suffer any more. You ought to
that. It goes to your heart. What a cursed complaint it is! He make a neuvaine for him; I have seen wonderful cures come
has no strength at all. I am always afraid I shall find him of the nine days’ prayer, and I would gladly pay for a wax
dead in his bed some morning. He is every bit as pale as a taper to save such a gentle creature, so good he is, a paschal
waxen Christ. DAME! I watch him while he dresses; his poor lamb—”

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As Raphael’s voice had grown too weak to allow him to In the hours of the next morning, Raphael climbed the
make himself heard, he was compelled to listen to this hor- crags, and sat down in a mossy cleft in the rocks, whence he
rible loquacity. His irritation, however, drove him out of bed could see the narrow path along which the water for the
at length, and he appeared upon the threshold. dwelling was carried. At the base of the hill he saw Jonathan
“Old scoundrel!” he shouted to Jonathan; “do you mean in conversation with the Auvergnate. Some malicious power
to put me to death?” interpreted for him all the woman’s forebodings, and filled
The peasant woman took him for a ghost, and fled. the breeze and the silence with her ominous words. Thrilled
“I forbid you to have any anxiety whatever about my with horror, he took refuge among the highest summits of
health,” Raphael went on. the mountains, and stayed there till the evening; but yet he
“Yes, my Lord Marquis,” said the old servant, wiping away could not drive away the gloomy presentiments awakened
his tears. within him in such an unfortunate manner by a cruel solici-
“And for the future you had very much better not come tude on his account.
here without my orders.” The Auvergne peasant herself suddenly appeared before
Jonathan meant to be obedient, but in the look full of pity him like a shadow in the dusk; a perverse freak of the poet
and devotion that he gave the Marquis before he went, within him found a vague resemblance between her black
Raphael read his own death-warrant. Utterly disheartened, and white striped petticoat and the bony frame of a spectre.
brought all at once to a sense of his real position, Valentin “The damp is falling now, sir,” said she. “If you stop out
sat down on the threshold, locked his arms across his chest, there, you will go off just like rotten fruit. You must come
and bowed his head. Jonathan turned to his master in alarm, in. It isn’t healthy to breathe the damp, and you have taken
with “My Lord—” nothing since the morning, besides.”
“Go away, go away,” cried the invalid. “Tonnerre de Dieu! old witch,” he cried; “let me live after

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my own fashion, I tell you, or I shall be off altogether. It is A poet makes a poem of everything; it is tragical or joyful,
quite bad enough to dig my grave every morning; you might as things happen to strike his imagination; his lofty soul re-
let it alone in the evenings at least—” jects all half-tones; he always prefers vivid and decided col-
“Your grave, sir! I dig your grave!—and where may your ors. In Raphael’s soul this compassion produced a terrible
grave be? I want to see you as old as father there, and not in poem of mourning and melancholy. When he had wished to
your grave by any manner of means. The grave! that comes live in close contact with nature, he had of course forgotten
soon enough for us all; in the grave—” how freely natural emotions are expressed. He would think
“That is enough,” said Raphael. himself quite alone under a tree, whilst he struggled with an
“Take my arm, sir.” obstinate coughing fit, a terrible combat from which he never
“No.” issued victorious without utter exhaustion afterwards; and
The feeling of pity in others is very difficult for a man to then he would meet the clear, bright eyes of the little boy,
bear, and it is hardest of all when the pity is deserved. Ha- who occupied the post of sentinel, like a savage in a bent of
tred is a tonic—it quickens life and stimulates revenge; but grass; the eyes scrutinized him with a childish wonder, in
pity is death to us—it makes our weakness weaker still. It is which there was as much amusement as pleasure, and an
as if distress simpered ingratiatingly at us; contempt lurks indescribable mixture of indifference and interest. The aw-
in the tenderness, or tenderness in an affront. In the cente- ful brother, you must die, of the Trappists seemed constantly
narian Raphael saw triumphant pity, a wondering pity in legible in the eyes of the peasants with whom Raphael was
the child’s eyes, an officious pity in the woman, and in her living; he scarcely knew which he dreaded most, their unfet-
husband a pity that had an interested motive; but no mat- tered talk or their silence; their presence became torture.
ter how the sentiment declared itself, death was always its One morning he saw two men in black prowling about in
import. his neighborhood, who furtively studied him and took ob-

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servations. They made as though they had come there for a tant fertile landscape; then followed the steeples of hamlets,
stroll, and asked him a few indifferent questions, to which hiding modestly in the depths of a ravine with its yellow
he returned short answers. He recognized them both. One cliffs; sometimes, after the monotony of vineyards, the
was the cure and the other the doctor at the springs; Jonathan watermills of a little valley would be suddenly seen; and ev-
had no doubt sent them, or the people in the house had erywhere there were pleasant chateaux, hillside villages, roads
called them in, or the scent of an approaching death had with their fringes of queenly poplars; and the Loire itself, at
drawn them thither. He beheld his own funeral, heard the last, with its wide sheets of water sparkling like diamonds
chanting of the priests, and counted the tall wax candles; amid its golden sands. Attractions everywhere, without end!
and all that lovely fertile nature around him, in whose lap he This nature, all astir with a life and gladness like that of child-
had thought to find life once more, he saw no longer, save hood, scarcely able to contain the impulses and sap of June,
through a veil of crape. Everything that but lately had spo- possessed a fatal attraction for the darkened gaze of the in-
ken of length of days to him, now prophesied a speedy end. valid. He drew the blinds of his carriage windows, and be-
He set out the next day for Paris, not before he had been took himself again to slumber.
inundated with cordial wishes, which the people of the house Towards evening, after they had passed Cesne, he was awak-
uttered in melancholy and wistful tones for his benefit. ened by lively music, and found himself confronted with a
He traveled through the night, and awoke as they passed village fair. The horses were changed near the marketplace.
through one of the pleasant valleys of the Bourbonnais. View Whilst the postilions were engaged in making the transfer,
after view swam before his gaze, and passed rapidly away like he saw the people dancing merrily, pretty and attractive girls
the vague pictures of a dream. Cruel nature spread herself with flowers about them, excited youths, and finally the jolly
out before his eyes with tantalizing grace. Sometimes the wine-flushed countenances of old peasants. Children prattled,
Allier, a liquid shining ribbon, meandered through the dis- old women laughed and chatted; everything spoke in one

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voice, and there was a holiday gaiety about everything, down looked out and seen some pale clouds driven over by a gust
to their clothing and the tables that were set out. A cheerful of wind, he did not think of looking at the piece of skin. He
expression pervaded the square and the church, the roofs lay back again in the corner of his carriage, which was very
and windows; even the very doorways of the village seemed soon rolling upon its way.
likewise to be in holiday trim. The next day found him back in his home again, in his
Raphael could not repress an angry exclamation, nor yet a own room, beside his own fireside. He had had a large fire
wish to silence the fiddles, annihilate the stir and bustle, stop lighted; he felt cold. Jonathan brought him some letters; they
the clamor, and disperse the ill-timed festival; like a dying were all from Pauline. He opened the first one without any
man, he felt unable to endure the slightest sound, and he eagerness, and unfolded it as if it had been the gray-paper
entered his carriage much annoyed. When he looked out form of application for taxes made by the revenue collector.
upon the square from the window, he saw that all the happi- He read the first sentence:
ness was scared away; the peasant women were in flight, and “Gone! This really is a flight, my Raphael. How is it? No one
the benches were deserted. Only a blind musician, on the can tell me where you are. And who should know if not I?”
scaffolding of the orchestra, went on playing a shrill tune on He did not wish to learn any more. He calmly took up the
his clarionet. That piping of his, without dancers to it, and letters and threw them in the fire, watching with dull and
the solitary old man himself, in the shadow of the lime-tree, lifeless eyes the perfumed paper as it was twisted, shriveled,
with his curmudgeon’s face, scanty hair, and ragged cloth- bent, and devoured by the capricious flames. Fragments that
ing, was like a fantastic picture of Raphael’s wish. The heavy fell among the ashes allowed him to see the beginning of a
rain was pouring in torrents; it was one of those thunder- sentence, or a half-burnt thought or word; he took a plea-
storms that June brings about so rapidly, to cease as sud- sure in deciphering them—a sort of mechanical amusement.
denly. The thing was so natural, that, when Raphael had “Sitting at your door—expected—Caprice—I obey—Ri-

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 Balzac
vals—I, never!—thy Pauline—love—no more of Pauline?— “Can you prescribe a draught for me—some mild opiate
If you had wished to leave me for ever, you would not have which will always keep me in a somnolent condition, a
deserted me—Love eternal—To die—” draught that will not be injurious although taken constantly.”
The words caused him a sort of remorse; he seized the “Nothing is easier,” the young doctor replied; “but you
tongs, and rescued a last fragment of the letter from the will have to keep on your feet for a few hours daily, at any
flames. rate, so as to take your food.”
“I have murmured,” so Pauline wrote, “but I have never “A few hours!” Raphael broke in; “no, no! I only wish to be
complained, my Raphael! If you have left me so far behind out of bed for an hour at most.”
you, it was doubtless because you wished to hide some heavy “What is your object?” inquired Bianchon.
grief from me. Perhaps you will kill me one of these days, “To sleep; for so one keeps alive, at any rate,” the patient
but you are too good to torture me. So do not go away from answered. “Let no one come in, not even Mlle. Pauline de
me like this. There! I can bear the worst of torment, if only I Wistchnau!” he added to Jonathan, as the doctor was writ-
am at your side. Any grief that you could cause me would ing out his prescription.
not be grief. There is far more love in my heart for you than “Well, M. Horace, is there any hope?” the old servant asked,
I have ever yet shown you. I can endure anything, except going as far as the flight of steps before the door, with the
this weeping far away from you, this ignorance of your—” young doctor.
Raphael laid the scorched scrap on the mantelpiece, then “He may live for some time yet, or he may die to-night.
all at once he flung it into the fire. The bit of paper was too The chances of life and death are evenly balanced in his case.
clearly a symbol of his own love and luckless existence. I can’t understand it at all,” said the doctor, with a doubtful
“Go and find M. Bianchon,” he told Jonathan. gesture. “His mind ought to be diverted.”
Horace came and found Raphael in bed. “Diverted! Ah, sir, you don’t know him! He killed a man

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the other day without a word!—Nothing can divert him!” my life any longer. Miserable wretch! I am hungry—where
For some days Raphael lay plunged in the torpor of this is my dinner? How is it?—Answer me!”
artificial sleep. Thanks to the material power that opium ex- A satisfied smile stole over Jonathan’s face. He took a candle
erts over the immaterial part of us, this man with the power- that lit up the great dark rooms of the mansion with its flick-
ful and active imagination reduced himself to the level of ering light; brought his master, who had again become an
those sluggish forms of animal life that lurk in the depths of automaton, into a great gallery, and flung a door suddenly
forests, and take the form of vegetable refuse, never stirring open. Raphael was all at once dazzled by a flood of light and
from their place to catch their easy prey. He had darkened amazed by an unheard-of scene.
the very sun in heaven; the daylight never entered his room. His chandeliers had been filled with wax-lights; the rarest
About eight o’clock in the evening he would leave his bed, flowers from his conservatory were carefully arranged about
with no very clear consciousness of his own existence; he the room; the table sparkled with silver, gold, crystal, and
would satisfy the claims of hunger and return to bed imme- porcelain; a royal banquet was spread—the odors of the
diately. One dull blighted hour after another only brought tempting dishes tickled the nervous fibres of the palate. There
confused pictures and appearances before him, and lights sat his friends; he saw them among beautiful women in full
and shadows against a background of darkness. He lay bur- evening dress, with bare necks and shoulders, with flowers
ied in deep silence; movement and intelligence were com- in their hair; fair women of every type, with sparkling eyes,
pletely annihilated for him. He woke later than usual one attractively and fancifully arrayed. One had adopted an Irish
evening, and found that his dinner was not ready. He rang jacket, which displayed the alluring outlines of her form;
for Jonathan. one wore the “basquina” of Andalusia, with its wanton grace;
“You can go,” he said. “I have made you rich; you shall be here was a half-clad Dian the huntress, there the costume of
happy in your old age; but I will not let you muddle away Mlle. de la Valliere, amorous and coy; and all of them alike

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were given up to the intoxication of the moment. It was close upon midnight. By that time, owing to one of
As Raphael’s death-pale face showed itself in the doorway, those physical caprices that are the marvel and the despair of
a sudden outcry broke out, as vehement as the blaze of this science, Raphael, in his slumber, became radiant with beauty.
improvised banquet. The voices, perfumes, and lights, the A bright color glowed on his pale cheeks. There was an almost
exquisite beauty of the women, produced their effect upon girlish grace about the forehead in which his genius was re-
his senses, and awakened his desires. Delightful music, from vealed. Life seemed to bloom on the quiet face that lay there
unseen players in the next room, drowned the excited tu- at rest. His sleep was sound; a light, even breath was drawn in
mult in a torrent of harmony—the whole strange vision was between red lips; he was smiling—he had passed no doubt
complete. through the gate of dreams into a noble life. Was he a cente-
Raphael felt a caressing pressure on is own hand, a woman’s narian now? Did his grandchildren come to wish him length
white, youthful arms were stretched out to grasp him, and of days? Or, on a rustic bench set in the sun and under the
the hand was Aquilina’s. He knew now that this scene was trees, was he scanning, like the prophet on the mountain
not a fantastic illusion like the fleeting pictures of his disor- heights, a promised land, a far-off time of blessing.
dered dreams; he uttered a dreadful cry, slammed the door, “Here you are!”
and dealt his heartbroken old servant a blow in the face. The words, uttered in silver tones, dispelled the shadowy
“Monster!” he cried, “so you have sworn to kill me!” and faces of his dreams. He saw Pauline, in the lamplight, sitting
trembling at the risks he had just now run, he summoned all upon the bed; Pauline grown fairer yet through sorrow and
his energies, reached his room, took a powerful sleeping separation. Raphael remained bewildered by the sight of her
draught, and went to bed. face, white as the petals of some water flower, and the shadow
“The devil!” cried Jonathan, recovering himself. “And M. of her long, dark hair about it seemed to make it whiter still.
Bianchon most certainly told me to divert his mind.” Her tears had left a gleaming trace upon her cheeks, and

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hung there yet, ready to fall at the least movement. She looked “Good-bye?” she echoed, looking surprised.
like an angel fallen from the skies, or a spirit that a breath “Yes. This is a talisman that grants me all my wishes, and
might waft away, as she sat there all in white, with her head that represents my span of life. See here, this is all that re-
bowed, scarcely creasing the quilt beneath her weight. mains of it. If you look at me any longer, I shall die—”
“Ah, I have forgotten everything!” she cried, as Raphael The young girl thought that Valentin had grown lightheaded;
opened his eyes. “I have no voice left except to tell you, ‘I am she took the talisman and went to fetch the lamp. By its tremu-
yours.’ There is nothing in my heart but love. Angel of my lous light which she shed over Raphael and the talisman, she
life, you have never been so beautiful before! Your eyes are scanned her lover’s face and the last morsel of the magic skin.
blazing— But come, I can guess it all. You have been in search As Pauline stood there, in all the beauty of love and terror,
of health without me; you were afraid of me—well—” Raphael was no longer able to control his thoughts; memories
“Go! go! leave me,” Raphael muttered at last. “Why do you of tender scenes, and of passionate and fevered joys, over-
not go? If you stay, I shall die. Do you want to see me die?” whelmed the soul that had so long lain dormant within him,
“Die?” she echoed. “Can you die without me? Die? But and kindled a fire not quite extinct.
you are young; and I love you! Die?” she asked, in a deep, “Pauline! Pauline! Come to me—”
hollow voice. She seized his hands with a frenzied move- A dreadful cry came from the girl’s throat, her eyes dilated
ment. “Cold!” she wailed. “Is it all an illusion?” with horror, her eyebrows were distorted and drawn apart
Raphael drew the little bit of skin from under his pillow; it by an unspeakable anguish; she read in Raphael’s eyes the
was as tiny and as fragile as a periwinkle petal. He showed it vehement desire in which she had once exulted, but as it
to her. grew she felt a light movement in her hand, and the skin
“Pauline!” he said, “fair image of my fair life, let us say contracted. She did not stop to think; she fled into the next
good-bye?” room, and locked the door.

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“Pauline! Pauline!” cried the dying man, as he rushed after from his very entrails. At the last moment, no longer able to
her; “I love you, I adore you, I want you, Pauline! I wish to utter a sound, he set his teeth in Pauline’s breast. Jonathan
die in your arms!” appeared, terrified by the cries he had heard, and tried to
With unnatural strength, the last effort of ebbing life, he tear away the dead body from the grasp of the girl who was
broke down the door, and saw his mistress writhing upon a crouching with it in a corner.
sofa. Pauline had vainly tried to pierce her heart, and now “What do you want?” she asked. “He is mine, I have killed
thought to find a rapid death by strangling herself with her him. Did I not foresee how it would be?”
shawl.
“If I die, he will live,” she said, trying to tighten the knot
that she had made.
In her struggle with death her hair hung loose, her shoul-
ders were bare, her clothing was disordered, her eyes were
bathed in tears, her face was flushed and drawn with the
horror of despair; yet as her exceeding beauty met Raphael’s
intoxicated eyes, his delirium grew. He sprang towards her
like a bird of prey, tore away the shawl, and tried to take her
in his arms.
The dying man sought for words to express the wish that
was consuming his strength; but no sounds would come ex-
cept the choking death-rattle in his chest. Each breath he
drew sounded hollower than the last, and seemed to come

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 The Magic Skin
EPILOGUE “But, Pauline?”
“You do not see, then? I will begin again. Make way! make
“AND WHAT BECAME OF PAULINE?” way! She comes, she is here, the queen of illusions, a woman
“Pauline? Ah! Do you sometimes spend a pleasant winter fleeting as a kiss, a woman bright as lightning, issuing in a
evening by your own fireside, and give yourself up luxuri- blaze like lightning from the sky, a being uncreated, of spirit
ously to memories of love or youth, while you watch the and love alone. She has wrapped her shadowy form in flame,
glow of the fire where the logs of oak are burning? Here, the or perhaps the flame betokens that she exists but for a mo-
fire outlines a sort of chessboard in red squares, there it has a ment. The pure outlines of her shape tell you that she comes
sheen like velvet; little blue flames start up and flicker and from heaven. Is she not radiant as an angel? Can you not
play about in the glowing depths of the brasier. A mysteri- hear the beating of her wings in space? She sinks down be-
ous artist comes and adapts that flame to his own ends; by a side you more lightly than a bird, and you are entranced by
secret of his own he draws a visionary face in the midst of her awful eyes; there is a magical power in her light breath-
those flaming violet and crimson hues, a face with unimag- ing that draws your lips to hers; she flies and you follow; you
inable delicate outlines, a fleeting apparition which no feel the earth beneath you no longer. If you could but once
chance will ever bring back again. It is a woman’s face, her touch that form of snow with your eager, deluded hands,
hair is blown back by the wind, her features speak of a once twine the golden hair round your fingers, place one
rapture of delight; she breathes fire in the midst of the fire. kiss on those shining eyes! There is an intoxicating vapor
She smiles, she dies, you will never see her any more. Fare- around, and the spell of a siren music is upon you. Every
well, flower of the flame! Farewell, essence incomplete and nerve in you is quivering; you are filled with pain and long-
unforeseen, come too early or too late to make the spark of ing. O joy for which there is no name! You have touched the
some glorious diamond.” woman’s lips, and you are awakened at once by a horrible

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 Balzac
pang. Oh! ah! yes, you have struck your head against the to protect her country from modern intrusion.”
corner of the bedpost, you have been clasping its brown ma- “Well, well, I understand. So it went with Pauline. But
hogany sides, and chilly gilt ornaments; embracing a piece how about Foedora?”
of metal, a brazen Cupid.” “Oh! Foedora, you are sure to meet with her! She was at
“But how about Pauline, sir?” the Bouffons last night, and she will go to the Opera this
“What, again? Listen. One lovely morning at Tours a young evening, and if you like to take it so, she is Society.”
man, who held the hand of a pretty woman in his, went on
board the Ville d’Angers. Thus united they both looked and
wondered long at a white form that rose elusively out of the
mists above the broad waters of the Loire, like some child of
the sun and the river, or some freak of air and cloud. This
translucent form was a sylph or a naiad by turns; she hov-
ered in the air like a word that haunts the memory, which
seeks in vain to grasp it; she glided among the islands, she
nodded her head here and there among the tall poplar trees;
then she grew to a giant’s height; she shook out the countless
folds of her drapery to the light; she shot light from the au-
reole that the sun had litten about her face; she hovered above
the slopes of the hills and their little hamlets, and seemed to
bar the passage of the boat before the Chateau d’Usse. You
might have thought that La dame des belles cousines sought

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 The Magic Skin
Addendum Honorine
The Seamy Side of History
The following personages appear in other stories of the Hu- A Second Home
man Comedy. A Prince of Bohemia
Letters of Two Brides
Aquilina The Muse of the Department
Melmoth Reconciled The Imaginary Mistress
The Middle Classes
Bianchon, Horace Cousin Betty
Father Goriot The Country Parson
The Atheist’s Mass In addition, M. Bianchon narrated the following:
Cesar Birotteau Another Study of Woman
The Commission in Lunacy La Grande Breteche
Lost Illusions
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Canalis, Constant-Cyr-Melchior, Baron de
A Bachelor’s Establishment Letters of Two Brides
The Secrets of a Princess A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
The Government Clerks Modeste Mignon
Pierrette Another Study of Woman
A Study of Woman A Start in Life
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life Beatrix

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 Balzac
The Unconscious Humorists Navarreins, Duc de
The Member for Arcis A Bachelor’s Establishment
Colonel Chabert
Dudley, Lady Arabella The Muse of the Department
The Lily of the Valley The Thirteen
The Ball at Sceaux Jealousies of a Country Town
The Secrets of a Princess The Peasantry
A Daughter of Eve Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
Letters of Two Brides The Country Parson
The Gondreville Mystery
Euphrasia The Secrets of a Princess
Melmoth Reconciled Cousin Betty

Joseph Rastignac, Eugene de

A Study of Woman Father Goriot
A Distinguished Provincial at Paris
Massol Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life
Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life The Ball at Sceaux
A Daughter of Eve The Interdiction
Cousin Betty A Study of Woman
The Unconscious Humorists Another Study of Woman

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 The Magic Skin
The Secrets of a Princess
A Daughter of Eve
The Gondreville Mystery
The Firm of Nucingen
Cousin Betty
The Member for Arcis
The Unconscious Humorists

Taillefer, Jean-Frederic
The Firm of Nucingen
Father Goriot
The Red Inn

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