camille-第2部分

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ng；　is　heard　of　by　all　their　lovers　at　the　same　moment；　for　in　Paris　almost　all　the　lovers　of　a　well…known　woman　are　friends。　A　few　recollections　are　exchanged；　and　everybody's　life　goes　on　as　if　the　incident　had　never　occurred；　without　so　much　as　a　tear。

Nowadays；　at　twenty…five；　tears　have　become　so　rare　a　thing　that　they　are　not　to　be　squandered　indiscriminately。　It　is　the　most　that　can　be　expected　if　the　parents　who　pay　for　being　wept　over　are　wept　over　in　return　for　the　price　they　pay。

As　for　me；　though　my　initials　did　not　occur　on　any　of　Marguerite's　belongings；　that　instinctive　indulgence；　that　natural　pity　that　I　have　already　confessed；　set　me　thinking　over　her　death；　more　perhaps　than　it　was　worth　thinking　over。　I　remembered　having　often　met　Marguerite　in　the　Bois；　where　she　went　regularly　every　day　in　a　little　blue　coupe　drawn　by　two　magnificent　bays；　and　I　had　noticed　in　her　a　distinction　quite　apart　from　other　women　of　her　kind；　a　distinction　which　was　enhanced　by　a　really　exceptional　beauty。

These　unfortunate　creatures　whenever　they　go　out　are　always　accompanied　by　somebody　or　other。　As　no　man　cares　to　make　himself　conspicuous　by　being　seen　in　their　company；　and　as　they　are　afraid　of　solitude；　they　take　with　them　either　those　who　are　not　well　enough　off　to　have　a　carriage；　or　one　or　another　of　those　elegant；　ancient　ladies；　whose　elegance　is　a　little　inexplicable；　and　to　whom　one　can　always　go　for　information　in　regard　to　the　women　whom　they　accompany。

In　Marguerite's　case　it　was　quite　different。　She　was　always　alone　when　she　drove　in　the　Champs…Elysees；　lying　back　in　her　carriage　as　much　as　possible；　dressed　in　furs　in　winter；　and　in　summer　wearing　very　simple　dresses；　and　though　she　often　passed　people　whom　she　knew；　her　smile；　when　she　chose　to　smile；　was　seen　only　by　them；　and　a　duchess　might　have　smiled　in　just　such　a　manner。　She　did　not　drive　to　and　fro　like　the　others；　from　the　Rond…Point　to　the　end　of　the　Champs…Elysees。　She　drove　straight　to　the　Bois。　There　she　left　her　carriage；　walked　for　an　hour；　returned　to　her　carriage；　and　drove　rapidly　home。

All　these　circumstances　which　I　had　so　often　witnessed　came　back　to　my　memory；　and　I　regretted　her　death　as　one　might　regret　the　destruction　of　a　beautiful　work　of　art。

It　was　impossible　to　see　more　charm　in　beauty　than　in　that　of　Marguerite。　Excessively　tall　and　thin；　she　had　in　the　fullest　degree　the　art　of　repairing　this　oversight　of　Nature　by　the　mere　arrangement　of　the　things　she　wore。　Her　cashmere　reached　to　the　ground；　and　showed　on　each　side　the　large　flounces　of　a　silk　dress；　and　the　heavy　muff　which　she　held　pressed　against　her　bosom　was　surrounded　by　such　cunningly　arranged　folds　that　the　eye；　however　exacting；　could　find　no　fault　with　the　contour　of　the　lines。　Her　head；　a　marvel；　was　the　object　of　the　most　coquettish　care。　It　was　small；　and　her　mother；　as　Musset　would　say；　seemed　to　have　made　it　so　in　order　to　make　it　with　care。

Set；　in　an　oval　of　indescribable　grace；　two　black　eyes；　surmounted　by　eyebrows　of　so　pure　a　curve　that　it　seemed　as　if　painted；　veil　these　eyes　with　lovely　lashes；　which；　when　drooped；　cast　their　shadow　on　the　rosy　hue　of　the　cheeks；　trace　a　delicate；　straight　nose；　the　nostrils　a　little　open；　in　an　ardent　aspiration　toward　the　life　of　the　senses；　design　a　regular　mouth；　with　lips　parted　graciously　over　teeth　as　white　as　milk；　colour　the　skin　with　the　down　of　a　peach　that　no　hand　has　touched；　and　you　will　have　the　general　aspect　of　that　charming　countenance。　The　hair；　black　as　jet；　waving　naturally　or　not；　was　parted　on　the　forehead　in　two　large　folds　and　draped　back　over　the　head；　leaving　in　sight　just　the　tip　of　the　ears；　in　which　there　glittered　two　diamonds；　worth　four　to　five　thousand　francs　each。　How　it　was　that　her　ardent　life　had　left　on　Marguerite's　face　the　virginal；　almost　childlike　expression；　which　characterized　it；　is　a　problem　which　we　can　but　state；　without　attempting　to　solve　it。

Marguerite　had　a　marvellous　portrait　of　herself；　by　Vidal；　the　only　man　whose　pencil　could　do　her　justice。　I　had　this　portrait　by　me　for　a　few　days　after　her　death；　and　the　likeness　was　so　astonishing　that　it　has　helped　to　refresh　my　memory　in　regard　to　some　points　which　I　might　not　otherwise　have　remembered。

Some　among　the　details　of　this　chapter　did　not　reach　me　until　later；　but　I　write　them　here　so　as　not　to　be　obliged　to　return　to　them　when　the　story　itself　has　begun。

Marguerite　was　always　present　at　every　first　night；　and　passed　every　evening　either　at　the　theatre　or　the　ball。　Whenever　there　was　a　new　piece　she　was　certain　to　be　seen；　and　she　invariably　had　three　things　with　her　on　the　ledge　of　her　ground…floor　box：　her　opera…glass；　a　bag　of　sweets；　and　a　bouquet　of　camellias。

For　twenty…five　days　of　the　month　the　camellias　were　white；　and　for　five　they　were　red；　no　one　ever　knew　the　reason　of　this　change　of　colour；　which　I　mention　though　I　can　not　explain　it；　it　was　noticed　both　by　her　friends　and　by　the　habitue's　of　the　theatres　to　which　she　most　often　went。　She　was　never　seen　with　any　flowers　but　camellias。　At　the　florist's；　Madame　Barjon's；　she　had　come　to　be　called　〃the　Lady　of　the　Camellias；〃　and　the　name　stuck　to　her。

Like　all　those　who　move　in　a　certain　set　in　Paris；　I　knew　that　Marguerite　had　lived　with　some　of　the　most　fashionable　young　men　in　society；　that　she　spoke　of　it　openly；　and　that　they　themselves　boasted　of　it；　so　that　all　seemed　equally　pleased　with　one　another。　Nevertheless；　for　about　three　years；　after　a　visit　to　Bagnees；　she　was　said　to　be　living　with　an　old　duke；　a　foreigner；　enormously　rich；　who　had　tried　to　remove　her　as　far　as　possible　from　her　former　life；　and；　as　it　seemed；　entirely　to　her　own　satisfaction。

This　is　what　I　was　told　on　the　subject。　In　the　spring　of　1847　Marguerite　was　so　ill　that　the　doctors　ordered　her　to　take　the　waters；　and　she　went　to　Bagneres。　Among　the　invalids　was　the　daughter　of　this　duke；　she　was　not　only　suffering　from　the　same　complaint；　but　she　was　so　like　Marguerite　in　appearance　that　they　might　have　been　taken　for　sisters；　the　young　duchess　was　in　the　last　stage　of　consumption；　and　a　few　days　after　Marguerite's　arrival　she　died。　One　morning；　the　duke；　who　had　remained　at　Bagneres　to　be　near　the　soil　that　had　buried　a　part　of　his　heart；　caught　sight　of　Marguerite　at　a　turn　of　the　road。　He　seemed　to　see　the　shadow　of　his　child；　and　going　up　to　her；　he　took　her　hands；　embraced　and　wept　over　her；　and　without　even　asking　her　who　she　was；　begged　her　to　let　him　love　in　her　the　living　image　of　his　dead　child。　Marguerite；　alone　at　Bagneres　with　her　maid；　and　not　being　in　any　fear　of　compromising　herself；　granted　the　duke's　request。　Some　people　who　knew　her；　happening　to　be　at　Bagneres；　took　upon　themselves　to　explain　Mademoiselle　Gautier's　true　position　to　the　duke。　It　was　a　blow　to　the　old　man；　for　the　resemblance　with　his　daughter　was　ended　in　one　direction；　but　it　was　too　late。　She　had　become　a　necessity　to　his　heart；　his　only　pretext；　his　only　excuse；　for　living。　He　made　no　reproaches；　he　had　indeed　no　right　to　do　so；　but　he　asked　her　if　she　felt　herself　capable　of　changing　her　mode　of　life；　offering　her　in　return　for　the　sacrifice　every　compensation　that　she　could　desire。　She　consented。

It　must　be　said　that　Marguerite　was　just　then　very　ill。　The　past　seemed　to　her　sensitive　nature　as　if　it　were　one　of　the　main　causes　of　her　illness；　and　a　sort　of　superstition　led　her　to　hope　that　God　would　restore　to　her　both　health　and　beauty　in　return　for　her　repentance　and　conversion。　By　the　end　of　the　summer；　the　waters；　sleep；　the　natural　fatigue　of　long　walks；　had　indeed　more　or　less　restored　her　health。　The　duke　accompanied　her　to　Paris；　where　he　continued　to　see　her　as　he　had　done　at　Bagneres。

This　liaison；　whose　motive　and　origin　were　quite　unknown；　caused　a　great　sensation；　for　the　duke；　already　known　for　his　immense　fortune；　now　became　known　for　his　prodigality。　All　this　was　set　down　to　the　debauchery　of　a　rich　old　man；　and　everything　was　believed　except　the　truth。　The　father's　sentiment　for　Marguerite　had；　in　truth；　so　pure　a　cause　that　anything　but　a　communion　of　hearts　would　have　seemed　to　him　a　kind　of　incest；　and　he　had　never　spoken　to　her　a　word　which　his　daughter　might　not　have　heard。

Far　be　it　from　me　to　make　out　our　heroine　to　be　anything　but　what　she　was。　As　long　as　she　remained　at　Bagneres；　the　promise　she　had　made　to　the　duke　had　not　been　hard　to　keep；　and　she　had　kept　it；　but；　once　back　in　Paris；　it　seemed　to　her；　accustomed　to　a　life　of　dissipation；　of　balls；　of　orgies；　as　if　the　solitude；　only　interrupted　by　the　duke's　stated　visits；　would　kill　her　with　boredom；　and　the　hot　breath　of　her　old　life　came　back　across　her　head　and　heart。

We　must　add　that　Marguerite　had　returned　more　beautiful　than　she　had　ever　been；　she　was　but　twenty；　and　her　malady；　sleeping　but　not　subdued；　continued　to　give　her　those　feverish　desires　which　are　almost　always　the　result　of　diseases　of　the　chest。

It　was　a　great　grief　to　the　duke　when　his　friends；　always　on　the　lookout　for　some　scandal　on　the　part　of　the　woman　with　whom；　it　seemed　to　them；　he　was　compromising　himself；　came　to　tell　him；　indeed　to　prove　to　him；　that　at　times　when　she　was　sure　of　not　seeing　him　she　received　other　visits；　and　that　these　visits　were　often　prolonged　till　the　following　day。　On　being　questioned；　Marguerite　admitted　everything　to　the　duke；　and　advised　him；　without　arriere…pensee；　to　concern　himself　with　her　no　longer；　for　she　felt　incapable　of　carrying　out　what　she　had　undertaken；　and　she　did　not　wish　to　go　on　accepting　benefits　from　a　man　whom　she　was　deceiving。　The　duke　did　not　return　for　a　week；　it　was　all　he　could　do；　and　on　the　eighth　day　he　came　to　beg　Marguerite　to　let　him　still　visit　her；　promising　that　he　would　take　her　as　she　was；　so　long　as　he　might　see　her；　and　swearing　that　he　would　never　utter　a　reproach　against　her；　not　though　he　were　to　die　of　it。

This；　then；　was　the　state　of　things　three　months　after　Marguerite's　return；　that　is　to　say；　in　November　or　December；　1842。



Chapter　3

At　one　o'clock　on　the　16th　I　went　to　the　Rue　d'Antin。　The　voice　of　the　auctioneer　could　be　heard　from　the　outer　door。　The　rooms　were　crowded　with　people。　There　were　all　the