the lily of the valley-第50部分

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withholding　his　reprimand　in　favor　of　his　own　wit。



More　courtier　than　father；　the　duke　asked　no　leave　but　got　into　the

carriage　with　the　king。　I　started　without　bidding　Lady　Dudley　good…

bye；　she　was　fortunately　out　when　I　made　my　preparations；　and　I　left　a

note　telling　her　I　was　sent　on　a　mission　by　the　king。　At　the　Croix　de

Berny　I　met　his　Majesty　returning　from　Verrieres。　He　threw　me　a　look

full　of　his　royal　irony；　always　insufferable　in　meaning；　which　seemed

to　say：　〃If　you　mean　to　be　anything　in　politics　come　back；　don't

parley　with　the　dead。〃　The　duke　waved　his　hand　to　me　sadly。　The　two

pompous　equipages　with　their　eight　horses；　the　colonels　and　their　gold

lace；　the　escort　and　the　clouds　of　dust　rolled　rapidly　away；　to　cries

of　〃Vive　le　Roi！〃　It　seemed　to　me　that　the　court　had　driven　over　the

dead　body　of　Madame　de　Mortsauf　with　the　utter　insensibility　which

nature　shows　for　our　catastrophes。　Though　the　duke　was　an　excellent

man　he　would　no　doubt　play　whist　with　Monsieur　after　the　king　had

retired。　As　for　the　duchess；　she　had　long　ago　given　her　daughter　the

first　stab　by　writing　to　her　of　Lady　Dudley。



My　hurried　journey　was　like　a　dream；the　dream　of　a　ruined　gambler；　I

was　in　despair　at　having　received　no　news。　Had　the　confessor　pushed

austerity　so　far　as　to　exclude　me　from　Clochegourde？　I　accused

Madeleine；　Jacques；　the　Abbe　Dominis；　all；　even　Monsieur　de　Mortsauf。

Beyond　Tours；　as　I　came　down　the　road　bordered　with　poplars　which

leads　to　Poncher；　which　I　so　much　admired　that　first　day　of　my　search

for　mine　Unknown；　I　met　Monsieur　Origet。　He　guessed　that　I　was　going

to　Clochegourde；　I　guessed　that　he　was　returning。　We　stopped　our

carriages　and　got　out；　I　to　ask　for　news；　he　to　give　it。



〃How　is　Madame　de　Mortsauf？〃　I　said。



〃I　doubt　if　you　find　her　living；〃　he　replied。　〃She　is　dying　a

frightful　deathof　inanition。　When　she　called　me　in；　last　June；　no

medical　power　could　control　the　disease；　she　had　the　symptoms　which

Monsieur　de　Mortsauf　has　no　doubt　described　to　you；　for　he　thinks　he

has　them　himself。　Madame　la　comtesse　was　not　in　any　transient

condition　of　ill…health；　which　our　profession　can　direct　and　which　is

often　the　cause　of　a　better　state；　nor　was　she　in　the　crisis　of　a

disorder　the　effects　of　which　can　be　repaired；　no；　her　disease　had

reached　a　point　where　science　is　useless；　it　is　the　incurable　result

of　grief；　just　as　a　mortal　wound　is　the　result　of　a　stab。　Her　physical

condition　is　produced　by　the　inertia　of　an　organ　as　necessary　to　life

as　the　action　of　the　heart　itself。　Grief　has　done　the　work　of　a

dagger。　Don't　deceive　yourself；　Madame　de　Mortsauf　is　dying　of　some

hidden　grief。〃



〃Hidden！〃　I　exclaimed。　〃Her　children　have　not　been　ill？〃



〃No；〃　he　said；　looking　at　me　significantly；　〃and　since　she　has　been　so

seriously　attacked　Monsieur　de　Mortsauf　has　ceased　to　torment　her。　I

am　no　longer　needed；　Monsieur　Deslandes　of　Azay　is　all…sufficient；

nothing　can　be　done；　her　sufferings　are　dreadful。　Young；　beautiful；

and　rich；　to　die　emaciated；　shrunken　with　hungerfor　she　dies　of

hunger！　During　the　last　forty　days　the　stomach；　being　as　it　were

closed　up；　has　rejected　all　nourishment；　under　whatever　form　we

attempt　to　give　it。〃



Monsieur　Origet　pressed　my　hand　with　a　gesture　of　respect。



〃Courage；　monsieur；〃　he　said；　lifting　his　eyes　to　heaven。



The　words　expressed　his　compassion　for　sufferings　he　thought　shared；

he　little　suspected　the　poisoned　arrow　which　they　shot　into　my　heart。

I　sprang　into　the　carriage　and　ordered　the　postilion　to　drive　on；

promising　a　good　reward　if　I　arrived　in　time。



Notwithstanding　my　impatience　I　seemed　to　do　the　distance　in　a　few

minutes；　so　absorbed　was　I　in　the　bitter　reflections　that　crowded　upon

my　soul。　Dying　of　grief；　yet　her　children　were　well？　then　she　died

through　me！　My　conscience　uttered　one　of　those　arraignments　which　echo

throughout　our　lives　and　sometimes　beyond　them。　What　weakness；　what

impotence　in　human　justice；　which　avenges　none　but　open　deeds！　Why

shame　and　death　to　the　murderer　who　kills　with　a　blow；　who　comes　upon

you　unawares　in　your　sleep　and　makes　it　last　eternally；　who　strikes

without　warning　and　spares　you　a　struggle？　Why　a　happy　life；　an

honored　life；　to　the　murderer　who　drop　by　drop　pours　gall　into　the

soul　and　saps　the　body　to　destroy　it？　How　many　murderers　go

unpunished！　What　indulgence　for　fashionable　vice！　What　condoning　of

the　homicides　caused　by　moral　wrongs！　I　know　not　whose　avenging　hand

it　was　that　suddenly；　at　that　moment；　raised　the　painted　curtain　that

reveals　society。　I　saw　before　me　many　victims　known　to　you　and　me；

Madame　de　Beauseant；　dying；　and　starting　for　Normandy　only　a　few　days

earlier；　the　Duchesse　de　Langeais　lost；　Lady　Brandon　hiding　herself　in

Touraine　in　the　little　house　where　Lady　Dudley　had　stayed　two　weeks；

and　dying　there；　killed　by　a　frightful　catastrophe；you　know　it。　Our

period　teems　with　such　events。　Who　does　not　remember　that　poor　young

woman　who　poisoned　herself；　overcome　by　jealousy；　which　was　perhaps

killing　Madame　de　Mortsauf？　Who　has　not　shuddered　at　the　fate　of　that

enchanting　young　girl　who　perished　after　two　years　of　marriage；　like　a

flower　torn　by　the　wind；　the　victim　of　her　chaste　ignorance；　the

victim　of　a　villain　with　whom　Ronquerolles；　Montriveau；　and　de　Marsay

shake　hands　because　he　is　useful　to　their　political　projects？　What

heart　has　failed　to　throb　at　the　recital　of　the　last　hours　of　the

woman　whom　no　entreaties　could　soften；　and　who　would　never　see　her

husband　after　nobly　paying　his　debts？　Madame　d'Aiglemont　saw　death

beside　her　and　was　saved　only　by　my　brother's　care。　Society　and

science　are　accomplices　in　crimes　for　which　there　are　no　assizes。　The

world　declares　that　no　one　dies　of　grief；　or　of　despair；　nor　yet　of

love；　of　anguish　hidden；　of　hopes　cultivated　yet　fruitless；　again　and

again　replanted　yet　forever　uprooted。　Our　new　scientific　nomenclature

has　plenty　of　words　to　explain　these　things；　gastritis；　pericarditis；

all　the　thousand　maladies　of　women　the　names　of　which　are　whispered　in

the　ear；　all　serve　as　passports　to　the　coffin　followed　by　hypocritical

tears　that　are　soon　wiped　by　the　hand　of　a　notary。　Can　there　be　at　the

bottom　of　this　great　evil　some　law　which　we　do　not　know？　Must　the

centenary　pitilessly　strew　the　earth　with　corpses　and　dry　them　to　dust

about　him　that　he　may　raise　himself；　as　the　millionaire　battens　on　a

myriad　of　little　industries？　Is　there　some　powerful　and　venomous　life

which　feasts　on　these　gentle；　tender　creatures？　My　God！　do　I　belong　to

the　race　of　tigers？



Remorse　gripped　my　heart　in　its　scorching　fingers；　and　my　cheeks　were

furrowed　with　tears　as　I　entered　the　avenue　of　Clochegourde　on　a　damp

October　morning；　which　loosened　the　dead　leaves　of　the　poplars　planted

by　Henriette　in　the　path　where　once　she　stood　and　waved　her

handkerchief　as　if　to　recall　me。　Was　she　living？　Why　did　I　feel　her

two　white　hands　upon　my　head　laid　prostrate　in　the　dust？　In　that

moment　I　paid　for　all　the　pleasures　that　Arabella　had　given　me；　and　I

knew　that　I　paid　dearly。　I　swore　not　to　see　her　again；　and　a　hatred　of

England　took　possession　of　me。　Though　Lady　Dudley　was　only　a　variety

of　her　species；　I　included　all　Englishwomen　in　my　judgment。



I　received　a　fresh　shock　as　I　neared　Clochegourde。　Jacques；　Madeleine；

and　the　Abbe　Dominis　were　kneeling　at　the　foot　of　a　wooden　cross

placed　on　a　piece　of　ground　that　was　taken　into　the　enclosure　when　the

iron　gate　was　put　up；　which　the　count　and　countess　had　never　been

willing　to　remove。　I　sprang　from　the　carriage　and　went　towards　them；

my　heart　aching　at　the　sight　of　these　children　and　that　grave　old　man

imploring　the　mercy　of　God。　The　old　huntsman　was　there　too；　with　bared

head；　standing　a　little　apart。



I　stooped　to　kiss　Jacques　and　Madeleine；　who　gave　me　a　cold　look　and

continued　praying。　The　abbe　rose　from　his　knees；　I　took　him　by　the　arm

to　support　myself；　saying；　〃Is　she　still　alive？〃　He　bowed　his　head

sadly　and　gently。　〃Tell　me；　I　implore　you　for　Christ's　sake；　why　are

you　praying　at　the　foot　of　this　cross？　Why　are　you　here；　and　not　with

her？　Why　are　the　children　kneeling　here　this　chilly　morning？　Tell　me

all；　that　I　may　do　no　harm　through　ignorance。〃



〃For　the　last　few　days　Madame　le　comtesse　has　been　unwilling　to　see

her　children　except　at　stated　times。Monsieur；〃　he　continued　after　a

pause；　〃perhaps　you　had　better　wait　a　few　hours　before　seeing　Madame

de　Mortsauf；　she　is　greatly　changed。　It　is　necessary　to　prepare　her

for　this　interview；　or　it　might　cause　an　increase　in　her　sufferings

death　would　be　a　blessed　release　from　them。〃　



I　wrung　the　hand　of　the　good　man；　whose　look　and　voice　soothed　the

pangs　of　others　without　sharpening　them。



〃We　are　praying　God　to　help　her；〃　he　continued；　〃for　she；　so　saintly；

so　resigned；　so　fit　to　die；　has　shown　during　the　last　few　weeks　a

horror　of　death；　for　the　first　time　in　her　life　she　looks　at　others

who　are　full　of　health　with　gloomy；　envious　eyes。　This　aberration

comes　less；　I　think；　from　the　fear　of　death　than　from　some　inward

intoxication；from　the　flowers　of　her　youth　which　ferment　as　they

wither。　Yes；　an　evil　angel　is　striving　against　heaven　for　that

glorious　soul。　She　is　passing　through　her　struggle　on　the　Mount　of

Olives；　her　tears　bathe　the　white　roses　of　her　crown　as　they　fall；　one

by　one；　from　the　head　of　this　wedded　Jephtha。　Wait；　do　not　see　her

yet。　You　would　bring　to　her　the　atmosphere　of　the　court；　she　would　see

in　your　face　the　reflection　of　the　things　of　life；　and　you　would　add

to　the　bitterness　of　her　regret。　Have　pity　on　a　weakness　which　God

Himself　forgave　to　His　Son　when　He　took　our　nature　upon　Him。　What

merit　would　there　be　in　conquering　if　we　had　no　adversary？　Permit　her

confessor　or　me；　two　old　men　whose　worn…out　lives　cause　her　no　pain；

to　prepare　her　for　this　unlooked…for　meeting；　for　emotions　which　the

Abbe