original short stories-6-第18部分

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you？'

〃'Upon　my　word；'　I　replied；　very　much　at　a　loss　for　an　answer；　'I　cannot
foresee　such　a　case；　but　it　would　depend　very　much　upon　the　woman。'

〃She　gave　a　hard；　nervous；　vibrating　laugh；　one　of　those　false　laughs
which　seem　as　if　they　must　break　thin　glass；　and　then　she　added：　'Men　are
never　either　venturesome　or　spiteful。'　　And；　after　a　moment's　silence；
she　continued：　'Have　you　ever　been　in　love；　Monsieur　Paul？'　　I　was
obliged　to　acknowledge　that　I　certainly　had；　and　she　asked　me　to　tell　her
all　about　it。　　Whereupon　I　made　up　some　story　or　other。　　She　listened　to
me　attentively；　with　frequent　signs　of　disapproval　and　contempt；　and　then
suddenly　she　said：

〃'No；　you　understand　nothing　about　the　subject。　　It　seems　to　me　that　real
love　must　unsettle　the　mind；　upset　the　nerves　and　distract　the　head；　that
it　musthow　shall　I　express　it？be　dangerous；　even　terrible；　almost
criminal　and　sacrilegious；　that　it　must　be　a　kind　of　treason；　I　mean　to
say　that　it　is　bound　to　break　laws；　fraternal　bonds；　sacred　obligations；
when　love　is　tranquil；　easy；　lawful　and　without　dangers；　is　it　really
love？'

〃I　did　not　know　what　answer　to　give　her；　and　I　made　this　philosophical
reflection　to　myself：　'Oh！　female　brain；　here；　indeed；　you　show
yourself！'

〃While　speaking；　she　had　assumed　a　demure　saintly　air；　and；　resting　on
the　cushions；　she　stretched　herself　out　at　full　length；　with　her　head　on
my　shoulder；　and　her　dress　pulled　up　a　little　so　as　to　show　her　red
stockings；　which　the　firelight　made　look　still　brighter。　　In　a　minute　or
two　she　continued：

〃'I　suppose　I　have　frightened　you？'　　I　protested　against　such　a　notion；
and　she　leaned　against　my　breast　altogether；　and　without　looking　at　me；
she　said：　'If　I　were　to　tell　you　that　I　love　you；　what　would　you　do？'

〃And　before　I　could　think　of　an　answer；　she　had　thrown　her　arms　around　my
neck；　had　quickly　drawn　my　head　down；　and　put　her　lips　to　mine。

〃Oh！　　My　dear　friend；　I　can　tell　you　that　I　did　not　feel　at　all　happy！
What！　　deceive　Julien？　　become　the　lover　of　this　little；　silly；　wrong…
headed；　deceitful　woman；　who　was；　no　doubt；　terribly　sensual；　and　whom
her　husband　no　longer　satisfied。

To　betray　him　continually；　to　deceive　him；　to　play　at　being　in　love
merely　because　I　was　attracted　by　forbidden　fruit；　by　the　danger　incurred
and　the　friendship　betrayed！　　No；　that　did　not　suit　me；　but　what　was　I　to
do？　　To　imitate　Joseph　would　be　acting　a　very　stupid　and；　moreover；
difficult　part；　for　this　woman　was　enchanting　in　her　perfidy；　inflamed　by
audacity；　palpitating　and　excited。　　Let　the　man　who　has　never　felt　on　his
lips　the　warm　kiss　of　a　woman　who　is　ready　to　give　herself　to　him　throw
the　first　stone　at　me。

〃Well；　a　minute　moreyou　understand　what　I　mean？　　A　minute　more；　andI
should　have　beenno；　she　would　have　been！I　beg　your　pardon；　he　would
have　beenwhen　a　loud　noise　made　us　both　jump　up。　　The　log　had　fallen
into　the　room；　knocking　over　the　fire　irons　and　the　fender；　and　on　to　the
carpet；　which　it　had　scorched；　and　had　rolled　under　an　armchair；　which　it
would　certainly　set　alight。

〃I　jumped　up　like　a　madman；　and；　as　I　was　replacing　on　the　fire　that　log
which　had　saved　me；　the　door　opened　hastily；　and　Julien　came　in。

〃'I　am　free；'　he　said；　with　evident　pleasure。　　'The　business　was　over　two
hours　sooner　than　I　expected！'

〃Yes；　my　dear　friend；　without　that　log；　I　should　have　been　caught　in　the
very　act；　and　you　know　what　the　consequences　would　have　been！

〃You　may　be　sure　that　I　took　good　care　never　to　be　found　in　a　similar
situation　again；　never；　never。　　Soon　afterward　I　saw　that　Julien　was
giving　me　the　'cold　shoulder；'　as　they　say。　　His　wife　was　evidently
undermining　our　friendship。　　By　degrees　he　got　rid　of　me；　and　we　have
altogether　ceased　to　meet。

〃I　never　married；　which　ought　not　to　surprise　you；　I　think。〃






JULIE　ROMAIN

Two　years　ago　this　spring　I　was　making　a　walking　tour　along　the　shore　of
the　Mediterranean。　　Is　there　anything　more　pleasant　than　to　meditate
while　walking　at　a　good　pace　along　a　highway？　　One　walks　in　the　sunlight；
through　the　caressing　breeze；　at　the　foot　of　the　mountains；　along　the
coast　of　the　sea。　　And　one　dreams！　　What　a　flood　of　illusions；　loves；
adventures　pass　through　a　pedestrian's　mind　during　a　two　hours'　march！
What　a　crowd　of　confused　and　joyous　hopes　enter　into　you　with　the　mild；
light　air！　　You　drink　them　in　with　the　breeze；　and　they　awaken　in　your
heart　a　longing　for　happiness　which　increases　with　the　hun　ger　induced　by
walking。　　The　fleeting；　charming　ideas　fly　and　sing　like　birds。

I　was　following　that　long　road　which　goes　from　Saint　Raphael　to　Italy；
or；　rather；　that　long；　splendid　panoramic　highway　which　seems　made　for
the　representation　of　all　the　love…poems　of　earth。　　And　I　thought　that
from　Cannes；　where　one　poses；　to　Monaco；　where　one　gambles；　people　come
to　this　spot　of　the　earth　for　hardly　any　other　purpose　than　to　get
embroiled　or　to　throw　away　money　on　chance　games；　displaying　under　this
delicious　sky　and　in　this　garden　of　roses　and　oranges　all　base　vanities
and　foolish　pretensions　and　vile　lusts；　showing　up　the　human　mind　such　as
it　is；　servile；　ignorant；　arrogant　and　full　of　cupidity。

Suddenly　I　saw　some　villas　in　one　of　those　ravishing　bays　that　one　meets
at　every　turn　of　the　mountain；　there　were　only　four　or　five　fronting　the
sea　at　the　foot　of　the　mountains；　and　behind　them　a　wild　fir　wood　slopes
into　two　great　valleys；　that　were　untraversed　by　roads。　　I　stopped　short
before　one　of　these　chalets；　it　was　so　pretty：　a　small　white　house　with
brown　trimmings；　overrun　with　rambler　roses　up　to　the　top。

The　garden　was　a　mass　of　flowers；　of　all　colors　and　all　kinds；　mixed　in　a
coquettish；　well…planned　disorder。　　The　lawn　was　full　of　them；　big　pots
flanked　each　side　of　every　step　of　the　porch；　pink　or　yellow　clusters
framed　each　window；　and　the　terrace　with　the　stone　balustrade；　which
enclosed　this　pretty　little　dwelling；　had　a　garland　of　enormous　red
bells；　like　drops　of　blood。　　Behind　the　house　I　saw　a　long　avenue　of
orange　trees　in　blossom；　which　went　up　to　the　foot　of　the　mountain。

Over　the　door　appeared　the　name；　〃Villa　d'Antan；〃　in　small　gold　letters。

I　asked　myself　what　poet　or　what　fairy　was　living　there；　what　inspired；
solitary　being　had　discovered　this　spot　and　created　this　dream　house；
which　seemed　to　nestle　in　a　nosegay。

A　workman　was　breaking　stones　up　the　street；　and　I　went　to　him　to　ask　the
name　of　the　proprietor　of　this　jewel。

〃It　is　Madame　Julie　Romain；〃　he　replied。

Julie　Romain！　　In　my　childhood；　long　ago；　I　had　heard　them　speak　of　this
great　actress；　the　rival　of　Rachel。

No　woman　ever　was　more　applauded　and　more　lovedespecially　more　loved！
What　duets　and　suicides　on　her　account　and　what　sensational　adventures！
How　old　was　this　seductive　woman　now？　　Sixty；　seventy；　seventy…five！
Julie　Romain　here；　in　this　house！　　The　woman　who　had　been　adored　by　the
greatest　musician　and　the　most　exquisite　poet　of　our　land！　　I　still
remember　the　sensation　（I　was　then　twelve　years　of　age）　which　her　flight
to　Sicily　with　the　latter；　after　her　rupture　with　the　former；　caused
throughout　France。

She　had　left　one　evening；　after　a　premiere；　where　the　audience　had
applauded　her　for　a　whole　half　hour；　and　had　recalled　her　eleven　times　in
succession。　　She　had　gone　away　with　the　poet；　in　a　post…chaise；　as　was
the　fashion　then；　they　had　crossed　the　sea；　to　love　each　other　in　that
antique　island；　the　daughter　of　Greece；　in　that　immense　orange　wood　which
surrounds　Palermo；　and　which　is　called　the　〃Shell　of　Gold。〃

People　told　of　their　ascension　of　Mount　Etna　and　how　they　had　leaned　over
the　immense　crater；　arm　in　arm；　cheek　to　cheek；　as　if　to　throw　themselves
into　the　very　abyss。

Now　he　was　dead；　that　maker　of　verses　so　touching　and　so　profound　that
they　turned；　the　heads　of　a　whole　generation；　so　subtle　and　so　mysterious
that　they　opened　a　new　world　to　the　younger　poets。

The　other　one　also　was　deadthe　deserted　one；　who　had　attained　through
her　musical　periods　that　are　alive　in　the　memories　of　all；　periods　of
triumph　and　of　despair；　intoxicating　triumph　and　heartrending　despair。

And　she　was　there；　in　that　house　veiled　by　flowers。

I　did　not　hesitate；　but　rang　the　bell。

A　small　servant　answered；　a　boy　of　eighteen　with　awkward　mien　and　clumsy
hands。　　I　wrote　in　pencil　on　my　card　a　gallant　compliment　to　the　actress；
begging　her　to　receive　me。　　Perhaps；　if　she　knew　my　name；　she　would　open
her　door　to　me。

The　little　valet　took　it　in；　and　then　came　back；　asking　me　to　follow　him。
He　led　me　to　a　neat　and　decorous　salon；　furnished　in　the　Louis…Philippe
style；　with　stiff　and　heavy　furniture；　from　which　a　little　maid　of
sixteen；　slender　but　not　pretty；　took　off　the　covers　in　my　honor。

Then　I　was　left　alone。

On　the　walls　hung　three　portraits；　that　of　the　actress　in　one　of　her
roles；　that　of　the　poet　in　his　close…fitting　greatcoat　and　the　ruffled
shirt　then　in　style；　and　that　of　the　musician　seated　at　a　piano。

She；　blond；　charming；　but　affected；　according　to　the　fashion　of　her　day；
was　smiling；　with　her　pretty　mouth　and　blue　eyes；　the　painting　was
careful；　fine；　elegant；　but　lifeless。

Those　faces　seemed　to　be　already　looking　upon　posterity。

The　whole　place　had　the　air　of　a　bygone　time；　of　days　that　were　done　and
men　who　had　vanished。

A　door　opened　and　a　little　woman　entered；　old；　very　old；　very　small；　with
white　hair　and　white　eyebrows；　a　veritable　white　mouse；　and　as　quick　and
furtive　of　movement。

She　held　out　her　hand　to　me；　saying　in　a　voice　still　fresh；　sonorous　and
vibrant：

〃Thank　you；　monsieur。　　How　kind　it　is　of　the　men　of　to…day　to　remember
the　women　of　yesterday！　　Sit　down。〃

I　told　her　that　her　house　had　attracted　me；　that　I　had　inquired　for　the
proprietor's　name；　and　that；　on　learning　it；　I　could　not　resist　the
desire　to　ring　her　bell。

〃This　gives　me　all　the　more　pleasure；　monsieur；〃　she　replied；　〃as　it　is
the　first　time　that　such　a　thing　has　happened。　　When　I　received　your
card；　with　the　gracious　note；　I　trembled　as　if　an　old　friend　who　had
disappeared　for　twenty　years　had　been　announced　to　me。　　I　am　like　a　dead
body；　whom　no　one　remembers；