Part 1 Chapter 30
AmbitionThere is only one true nobility left; namely, the title of Duke; Marquis is absurd, at the word Duke one turns one's head.
The Edinburgh Review7The Marquis de La Mole received the abbe Pirard without any of thoselittle mannerisms of a great gentleman, outwardly so polite, but so impertinent to him who understands them. It would have been a waste oftime, and the Marquis was so far immersed in public business as to haveno time to waste.
For six months he had been intriguing to make both King and nationaccept a certain Ministry, which, as a mark of gratitude, would make hima Duke.
The Marquis had appealed in vain, year after year, to his lawyer atBesancon for a clear and definite report on his lawsuits in the Franche-Comte. How was the eminent lawyer to explain them to him, if he didnot understand them himself?
The little slip of paper which the abbe gave him explained everything.
'My dear abbe,' said the Marquis, after polishing off in less than fiveminutes all the polite formulas and personal inquiries, 'my dear abbe, inthe midst of my supposed prosperity, I lack the time to occupy myselfseriously with two little matters which nevertheless are of considerableimportance: my family and my affairs. I take the greatest interest in thefortunes of my house, I may carry it far; I look after my pleasures, andthat is what must come before everything else, at least in my eyes,' hewent on, noticing the astonishment in the eyes of the abbe Pirard. Although a man of sense, the abbe was amazed to see an old man talkingso openly of his pleasures.
7.I have translated this motto, which is quoted in French by Stendahl, but have notbeen able to find the original passage in the Edinburgh Review. C. K. S. M.
'Work does no doubt exist in Paris,' the great nobleman continued, 'butperched in the attics; and as soon as I come in contact with a man, hetakes an apartment on the second floor, and his wife starts a day; consequently, no more work, no effort except to be or to appear to be a manof fashion. That is their sole interest once they are provided with bread.
'For my lawsuits, to be strictly accurate, and also for each lawsuit separately, I have lawyers who work themselves to death; one of them diedof consumption, the day before yesterday. But, for my affairs in general,would you believe, Sir, that for the last three years I have given up hopeof finding a man who, while he is writing for me, will deign to think alittle seriously of what he is doing. However, all this is only a preamble.
'I respect you, and, I would venture to add, although we meet for thefirst time, I like you. Will you be my secretary, with a salary of eightthousand francs, or indeed twice that sum? I shall gain even more, I assure you; and I shall make it my business to keep your fine living foryou, for the day on which we cease to agree.'
The abbe declined, but towards the end of the conversation, the sightof the Marquis's genuine embarrassment suggested an idea to him.
'I have left down in my Seminary a poor young man who, if I be notmistaken, is going to be brutally persecuted. If he were only a simplemonk he would be already in pace.
'At present this young man knows only Latin and the Holy Scriptures;but it is by no means impossible that one day he may display great talent, either for preaching or for the guidance of souls. I do not know whathe will do; but he has the sacred fire, he may go far. I intended to givehim to our Bishop, should one ever be sent to us who had something ofyour way of looking at men and affairs.'
'What is your young man's origin?' said the Marquis.
'He is said to be the son of a carpenter in our mountains, but I am inclined to believe that he is the natural son of some rich man. I have seenhim receive an anonymous or pseudonymous letter containing a bill ofexchange for five hundred francs.'
'Ah! It is Julien Sorel,' said the Marquis.
'How do you know his name?' asked the astonished abbe; and, as hewas blushing at his own question:
'That is what I am not going to tell you,' replied the Marquis.
'Very well!' the abbe went on, 'you might try making him your secretary, he has energy, and judgment; in short, it is an experiment worthtrying.'
'Why not?' said the Marquis; 'but would he be the sort of man to let hispalm be greased by the Prefect of Police or by anyone else, to play thespy on me? That is my only objection.'
Receiving favourable assurances from the abbe Pirard, the Marquisproduced a note for one thousand francs:
'Send this to Julien Sorel for his journey; tell him to come to me.'
'One can see,' said the abbe Pirard, 'that you live in Paris! You are unaware of the tyranny that weighs upon us poor provincials, and especially upon priests who are not on good terms with the Jesuits. They willnever allow Julien Sorel to leave, they will manage to cover themselveswith the cleverest excuses, they will reply that he is ill, letters will havegone astray in the post,' etc., etc.
'One of these days I shall procure a letter from the Minister to the Bishop,' said the Marquis.
'I was forgetting one thing,' said the abbe: 'this young man, althoughof quite humble birth, has a proud heart, he will be of no use to you if hispride is offended; you will only make him stupid.'
'I like that,' said the Marquis, 'I shall make him my son's companion,will that do?'
Some time after this, Julien received a letter in an unknown hand andbearing the postmark of Chalons, and found a draft upon a merchant inBesancon and instructions to proceed to Paris without delay. The letterwas signed with an assumed name, but as he opened it Julien trembled:
a leaf from a tree had fallen out at his feet; it was the signal arrangedbetween him and the abbe Pirard.
Within an hour, Julien was summoned to the Bishop's Palace, wherehe found himself greeted with a wholly fatherly welcome. Interspersedwith quotations from Horace, Monseigneur paid him, with regard to theexalted destiny that awaited him in Paris, a number of very neat compliments, which required an explanation if he were to express his thanks.
Julien could say nothing, chiefly because he knew nothing, and Monseigneur showed a high regard for him. One of the minor clergy of thePalace wrote to the Mayor who made haste to appear in person bringinga passport already signed, but with a blank space for the name of thetraveller.
Before midnight, Julien was with Fouque, whose sober mind was moreastonished than delighted by the future which seemed to be in store forhis friend.
'The end of it will be,' said this Liberal elector, 'a post under Government, which will oblige you to take some action that will be pilloried inthe newspapers. It will be through your disgrace that I shall have newsof you. Remember that, even financially speaking, it is better to earn onehundred louis in an honest trade in timber, where you are your ownmaster, than to receive four thousand francs from a Government, were itthat of King Solomon himself.'
Julien saw no more in this than the pettiness of a rustic mind. He wasat last going to appear on the stage of great events. The good fortune ofgoing to Paris, which he peopled in his imagination with men of intelligence, great intriguers, great hypocrites, but as courteous as the Bishopof Besancon and the Bishop of Agde, eclipsed everything else in his eyes.
He represented himself to his friend as deprived of his free will by theabbe Pirard's letter.
Towards noon on the following day he arrived in Verrieres the happiest of men, he reckoned upon seeing Madame de Renal again. He wentfirst of all to his original protector, the good abbe Chelan. He met with astern reception.
'Do you consider that you are under any obligation to me?' said M.
Chelan, without acknowledging his greeting. 'You will take luncheonwith me, meanwhile another horse will be hired for you, and you willleave Verrieres, without seeing anyone.'
'To hear is to obey,' replied Julien, with the prim face of a seminarist;and there was no further discussion save of theology and Latinscholarship.
He mounted his horse, rode a league, after which, coming upon awood, with no one to see him enter it, he hid himself there. At sunset hesent the horse back. Later on, he entered the house of a peasant, whoagreed to sell him a ladder, and to go with him, carrying the ladder, tothe little wood that overhung the Cours de la Fidelite, in Verrieres.
'We are a poor conscript deserting—or a smuggler,' said the peasant,as he took leave of him, 'but what do I care? My ladder is well paid for,and I myself have had to pass some awkward moments in my life.'
The night was very dark. About one o'clock in the morning, Julien, carrying his ladder, made his way into Verrieres. He climbed down as soon as he could into the bed of the torrent, which ran through M. de Renal'smagnificent gardens at a depth of ten feet, and confined between walls.
Julien climbed up easily by his ladder. 'What sort of greeting will thewatch-dogs give me?' he wondered. 'That is the whole question.' Thedogs barked, and rushed towards him; but he whistled softly, and theycame and fawned upon him.
Then climbing from terrace to terrace, although all the gates were shut,he had no difficulty in arriving immediately beneath the window of Madame de Renal's bedroom, which, on the garden side, was no more thannine or ten feet above the ground.
There was in the shutters a small opening in the shape of a heart,which Julien knew well. To his great dismay, this little opening was notlighted by the glimmer of a nightlight within.
'Great God!' he said to himself; 'tonight, of all nights, this room is notoccupied by Madame de Renal! Where can she be sleeping? The familyare at Verrieres, since I found the dogs here; but I may in this room,without a light, come upon M. de Renal himself or a stranger, and thenwhat a scandal!'
The most prudent course was to retire; but the idea filled Julien withhorror. 'If it is a stranger, I shall make off as fast as my legs will carry me,leaving my ladder behind; but if it is she, what sort of welcome awaitsme? She is steeped in repentance and the most extreme piety, I may besure of that; but after all, she has still some memory of me, since she hasjust written to me.' With this argument he made up his mind.
His heart trembling, but determined nevertheless to see her or to perish, he flung a handful of gravel against the shutter; no reply. He placedhis ladder against the wall by the side of the window and tapped himselfon the shutter, softly at first then more loudly. 'Dark as it is, they mayfire a gun at me,' thought Julien. This thought reduced his mad undertaking to a question of physical courage.
'This room is unoccupied tonight,' he thought, 'or else whoever it isthat is sleeping here is awake by this time. So there is no need for anyfurther precaution here; all I need think of is not making myself heard bythe people who are sleeping in the other rooms.'
He stepped down, placed his ladder against one of the shutters,climbed up again and passing his hand through the heart-shaped opening, was fortunate in finding almost at once the wire fastened to the latchthat closed the shutter. He pulled this wire; it was with an unspeakablejoy that he felt that the shutter was no longer closed and was yielding to his efforts. 'I must open it little by little and let her recognise my voice.'
He opened the shutter sufficiently to pass his head through the gap, repeating in a whisper: 'It is a friend.'
He made certain, by applying his ear, that nothing broke the profoundsilence in the room. But decidedly, there was no nightlight, even half extinguished, on the hearth; this was indeed a bad sign.
'Beware of a gunshot!' He thought for a moment; then, with one finger,ventured to tap the pane: no response; he tapped more loudly. 'Even if Ibreak the glass, I must settle this business.' As he was knocking hard, hethought he could just make out, in the pitch darkness, something like awhite phantom coming across the room. In a moment, there was nodoubt about it, he did see a phantom which seemed to be advancingwith extreme slowness. Suddenly he saw a cheek pressed to the pane towhich his eye was applied.
He shuddered, and recoiled slightly. But the night was so dark that,even at this close range, he could not make out whether it was Madamede Renal. He feared an instinctive cry of alarm; he could hear the dogsprowling with muttered growls round the foot of his ladder. 'It is I,' herepeated, quite loudly, 'a friend.' No answer; the white phantom hadvanished. 'For pity's sake, open the window. I must speak to you, I amtoo wretched!' and he knocked until the window nearly broke.
A little sharp sound was heard; the catch of the window gave way; hepushed it open and sprang lightly into the room.
The white phantom moved away; he seized it by the arms; it was awoman. All his ideas of courage melted. 'If it is she, what will she say tome?' What was his state when he realised from a faint cry that it was Madame de Renal.
He gathered her in his arms; she trembled, and had barely the strengthto repulse him.
'Wretch! What are you doing?'
Scarcely could her tremulous voice articulate the words. Julien sawthat she was genuinely angry.
'I have come to see you after fourteen months of a cruel parting.'
'Go, leave me this instant. Ah! M. Chelan, why did you forbid me towrite to him? I should have prevented this horror.' She thrust him fromher with a force that was indeed extraordinary. 'I repent of my crime;heaven has deigned to enlighten me,' she repeated in a stifled voice. 'Go!
Fly!'
'After fourteen months of misery, I shall certainly not leave you until Ihave spoken to you. I wish to know all that you have been doing. Ah! Ihave loved you well enough to deserve this confidence … I wish to knowall.'
In spite of herself Madame de Renal felt this tone of authority exert itsinfluence over her heart.
Julien, who was holding her in a passionate embrace, and resisting herefforts to liberate herself, ceased to press her in his arms. This relaxationhelped to reassure Madame de Renal.
'I am going to draw up the ladder,' he said, 'so that it may not compromise us if one of the servants, awakened by the noise, goes therounds.'
'Ah! Leave me, leave me rather,' the answer came with unfeigned anger. 'What do men matter to me? It is God that sees the terrible wrongyou are doing me, and will punish me for it. You are taking a cowardlyadvantage of the regard that I once felt for you, but no longer feel. Doyou hear, Master Julien?'
He drew up the ladder very slowly, so as not to make any noise.
'Is your husband in town?' he asked, not to defy her, but from force ofhabit.
'Do not speak to me so, for pity's sake, or I shall call my husband. I amall too guilty already of not having sent you away, at any cost. I pityyou,' she told him, seeking to wound his pride which she knew to be soirritable.
Her refusal to use the tu form, that abrupt method of breaking sotender a bond, and one upon which he still reckoned, roused Julien'samorous transport to a frenzy.
'What! Is it possible that you no longer love me!' he said to her, inthose accents of the heart to which it is so difficult to listen unmoved.
She made no reply; as for him, he was weeping bitter tears.
Really, he had no longer the strength to speak.
'And so I am completely forgotten by the one person who has everloved me! What use to live any longer?' All his courage had left him assoon as he no longer had to fear the danger of encountering a man;everything had vanished from his heart, save love.
He wept for a long time in silence. He took her hand, she tried to withdraw it; and yet, after a few almost convulsive movements, she let him keep it. The darkness was intense; they found themselves both seatedupon Madame de Renal's bed.
'What a difference from the state of things fourteen months ago!'
thought Julien, and his flow of tears increased. 'So absence unfailinglydestroys all human feelings!
'Be so kind as to tell me what has happened to you,' Julien said atlength, embarrassed by his silence and in a voice almost stifled by tears.
'There can be no doubt,' replied Madame de Renal in a harsh voice, thetone of which offered a cutting reproach to Julien, 'my misdeeds wereknown in the town, at the time of your departure. You were so imprudent in your behaviour. Some time later, when I was in despair, therespectable M. Chelan came to see me. It was in vain that, for a longtime, he sought to obtain a confession. One day, the idea occurred to himto take me into that church at Dijon in which I made my first Communion. There, he ventured to broach the subject… ' Madame de Renal'sspeech was interrupted by her tears. 'What a shameful moment! I confessed all. That worthy man was kind enough not to heap on me theweight of his indignation: he shared my distress. At that time I was writing you day after day letters which I dared not send you; I concealedthem carefully, and when I was too wretched used to shut myself up inmy room and read over my own letters.
'At length, M. Chelan persuaded me to hand them over to him …Some of them, written with a little more prudence than the rest, had beensent to you; never once did you answer me.'
'Never, I swear to you, did I receive any letter from you at theSeminary.'
'Great God! who can have intercepted them?'
'Imagine my grief; until the day when I saw you in the Cathedral, I didnot know whether you were still alive.'
'God in His mercy made me understand how greatly I was sinningagainst Him, against my children, against my husband,' replied Madamede Renal. 'He has never loved me as I believed then that you loved me …'
Julien flung himself into her arms, without any definite intention butwith entire lack of self-control. But Madame de Renal thrust him fromher, and continued quite firmly:
'My respectable friend M. Chelan made me realise that, in marrying M.
de Renal, I had pledged all my affections to him, even those of which I was still ignorant, which I had never felt before a certain fatal intimacy … Since the great sacrifice of those letters, which were so precious tome, my life has flowed on, if not happily, at any rate quietly enough. Donot disturb it any more; be a friend to me … the best of friends.' Juliencovered her hands with kisses; she could feel that he was still crying. 'Donot cry, you distress me so … Tell me, it is your turn now, all that youhave been doing.' Julien was unable to speak. 'I wish to know what sortof life you led at the Seminary,' she repeated, 'then you shall go.'
Without a thought of what he was telling her, Julien spoke of the endless intrigues and jealousies which he had encountered at first, then ofhis more peaceful life after he was appointed tutor.
'It was then,' he added, 'that after a long silence, which was doubtlessintended to make me understand what I see only too clearly now, thatyou no longer love me, and that I had become as nothing to you … '
Madame de Renal gripped his hands. 'It was then that you sent me asum of five hundred francs.'
'Never,' said Madame de Renal.
'It was a letter postmarked Paris and signed Paul Sorel, to avoid allsuspicion.'
A short discussion followed as to the possible source of this letter. Theatmosphere began to change. Unconsciously, Madame de Renal and Julien had departed from their solemn tone; they had returned to that of atender intimacy. They could not see each other, so intense was the darkness, but the sound of their voices told all. Julien slipped his arm roundthe waist of his mistress; this movement was highly dangerous. She triedto remove Julien's arm, whereupon he, with a certain adroitness, distracted her attention by an interesting point in his narrative.
The arm was then forgotten, and remained in the position that it hadoccupied.
After abundant conjectures as to the source of the letter with the fivehundred francs, Julien had resumed his narrative; he became rather morehis own master in speaking of his past life which, in comparison withwhat was happening to him at that moment, interested him so little. Hisattention was wholly concentrated on the manner in which his visit wasto end. 'You must leave me,' she kept on telling him, in a curt tone.
'What a disgrace for me if I am shown the door! The remorse will beenough to poison my whole life,' he said to himself, 'she will never writeto me. God knows when I shall return to this place!' From that moment, all the element of heavenly bliss in Julien's situation vanished rapidlyfrom his heart. Seated by the side of a woman whom he adored, claspingher almost in his arms, in this room in which he had been so happy,plunged in a black darkness, perfectly well aware that for the last minuteshe had been crying, feeling, from the movement of her bosom, that shewas convulsed with sobs, he unfortunately became a frigid politician, almost as calculating and as frigid as when, in the courtyard of the Seminary, he saw himself made the butt of some malicious joke by one of hiscompanions stronger than himself. Julien spun out his story, and spokeof the wretched life he had led since leaving Verrieres. 'And so,' Madamede Renal said to herself, 'after a year's absence, almost without a singletoken of remembrance, while I was forgetting him, his mind was entirelytaken up with the happy days he had enjoyed at Vergy.' Her sobs increased in violence. Julien saw that his story had been successful. Herealised that he must now try his last weapon: he came abruptly to theletter that he had just received from Paris.
'I have taken leave of Monseigneur, the Bishop.'
'What! You are not returning to Besancon! You are leaving us for ever?'
'Yes,' replied Julien, in a resolute tone; 'yes, I am abandoning the placewhere I am forgotten even by her whom I have most dearly loved in allmy life, and I am leaving it never to set eyes on it again. I am going toParis … '
'You are going to Paris!' Madame de Renal exclaimed quite aloud.
Her voice was almost stifled by her tears, and showed the intensity ofher grief. Julien had need of this encouragement; he was going to attempt a course which might decide everything against him; and beforethis exclamation, seeing no light, he was absolutely ignorant of the effectthat he was producing. He hesitated no longer; the fear of remorse gavehim complete command of himself; he added coldly as he rose to his feet:
'Yes, Madame, I leave you for ever, may you be happy; farewell.'
He took a few steps towards the window; he was already opening it.
Madame de Renal sprang after him and flung herself into his arms.
Thus, after three hours of conversation, Julien obtained what he had sopassionately desired during the first two. Had they come a little earlier,this return to tender sentiments, the eclipse of remorse in Madame deRenal would have been a divine happiness; obtained thus by artifice,they were no more than mere pleasure. Julien positively insisted, againstthe entreaties of his mistress, upon lighting the nightlight.
'Do you then wish me,' he asked her, 'to retain no memory of havingseen you? The love that is doubtless glowing in those charming eyes,shall it then be lost to me? Shall the whiteness of that lovely hand be invisible to me? Think that I am leaving you for a very long time perhaps!'
Madame de Renal could refuse nothing in the face of this idea whichmade her dissolve in tears. Dawn was beginning to paint in clear huesthe outline of the fir trees on the mountain to the least of Verrieres. Instead of going away, Julien, intoxicated with pleasure, asked Madame deRenal to let him spend the whole day hidden in her room, and not toleave until the following night.
'And why not?' was her answer. 'This fatal relapse destroys all my self-esteem, and dooms me to lifelong misery,' and she pressed him to herheart. 'My husband is no longer the same, he has suspicions; he believesthat I have been fooling him throughout this affair, and is in the worst oftempers with me. If he hears the least sound I am lost, he will drive mefrom the house like the wretch that I am.'
'Ah! There I can hear the voice of M. Chelan,' said Julien; you wouldnot have spoken to me like that before my cruel departure for the Seminary; you loved me then!'
Julien was rewarded for the coolness with which he had uttered thisspeech; he saw his mistress at once forget the danger in which the proximity of her husband involved her, to think of the far greater danger ofseeing Julien doubtful of her love for him. The daylight was rapidly increasing and now flooded the room; Julien recovered all the exquisitesensations of pride when he was once more able to see in his arms andalmost at his feet this charming woman, the only woman that he hadever loved, who, a few hours earlier, had been entirely wrapped up inthe fear of a terrible God and in devotion to duty. Resolutions fortifiedby a year of constancy had not been able to hold out against hisboldness.
Presently they heard a sound in the house; a consideration to whichshe had not given a thought now disturbed Madame de Renal.
'That wicked Elisa will be coming into the room, what are we to dowith that enormous ladder?' she said to her lover; 'where are we to hideit? I am going to take it up to the loft,' she suddenly exclaimed, with asort of playfulness.
'But you will have to go through the servant's room,' said Julien withastonishment.
'I shall leave the ladder in the corridor, call the man and send him onan errand.'
'Remember to have some excuse ready in case the man notices the ladder when he passes it in the passage.'
'Yes, my angel,' said Madame de Renal as she gave him a kiss. 'Andyou, remember to hide yourself quickly under the bed if Elisa comes intothe room while I am away.'
Julien was amazed at this sudden gaiety. 'And so,' he thought, 'the approach of physical danger, so far from disturbing her, restores her gaietybecause she forgets her remorse! Indeed a superior woman! Ah! There isa heart in which it is glorious to reign!' Julien was in ecstasies.
Madame de Renal took the ladder; plainly it was too heavy for her.
Julien went to her assistance; he was admiring that elegant figure, whichsuggested anything rather than strength, when suddenly, without help,she grasped the ladder and picked it up as she might have picked up achair. She carried it swiftly to the corridor on the third storey, where shelaid it down by the wall. She called the manservant, and, to give himtime to put on his clothes, went up to the dovecote. Five minutes later,when she returned to the corridor, the ladder was no more to be seen.
What had become of it? Had Julien been out of the house, the dangerwould have been nothing. But, at that moment, if her husband saw theladder! The consequences might be appalling. Madame de Renal ran upand down the house. At last she discovered the ladder under the roof,where the man had taken it and in fact hidden it himself. This in itselfwas strange, and at another time would have alarmed her.
'What does it matter to me,' she thought, 'what may happen in twenty-four hours from now, when Julien will have gone? Will not everythingthen be to me horror and remorse?'
She had a sort of vague idea that she ought to take her life, but whatdid that matter? After a parting which she had supposed to be for ever,he was restored to her, she saw him again, and what he had done inmaking his way to her gave proof of such a wealth of love!
In telling Julien of the incident of the ladder:
'What shall I say to my husband,' she asked him, 'if the man tells himhow he found the ladder?' She meditated for a moment. 'It will takethem twenty-four hours to discover the peasant who sold it to you'; andflinging herself into Julien's arms and clasping him in a convulsive embrace: 'Ah! to die, to die like this!' she cried as she covered him withkisses; 'but I must not let you die of hunger,' she added with a laugh.
'Come; first of all, I am going to hide you in Madame Derville's room,which is always kept locked.' She kept watch at the end of the corridorand Julien slipped from door to door. 'Remember not to answer, if anyone knocks,' she reminded him as she turned the key outside; 'anyhow, itwould only be the children playing.'
'Make them go into the garden, below the window,' said Julien, 'so thatI may have the pleasure of seeing them, make them speak.'
'Yes, yes,' cried Madame de Renal as she left him.
She returned presently with oranges, biscuits, a bottle of Malaga; shehad found it impossible to purloin any bread.
'What is your husband doing?' said Julien.
'He is writing down notes of the deals he proposes to do with somepeasants.'
But eight o'clock had struck, the house was full of noise. If Madame deRenal were not to be seen, people would begin searching everywhere forher; she was obliged to leave him. Presently she returned, in defiance ofall the rules of prudence, to bring him a cup of coffee; she was afraid ofhis dying of hunger. After luncheon she managed to shepherd the children underneath the window of Madame Derville's room. He found thatthey had grown considerably, but they had acquired a common air, orelse his ideas had changed. Madame de Renal spoke to them of Julien.
The eldest replied with affection and regret for his former tutor, but itappeared that the two younger had almost forgotten him.
M. de Renal did not leave the house that morning; he was incessantlygoing up and downstairs, engaged in striking bargains with certain peasants, to whom he was selling his potato crop. Until dinner time, Madamede Renal had not a moment to spare for her prisoner. When dinner wason the table, it occurred to her to steal a plateful of hot soup for him. Asshe silently approached the door of the room in which he was, carryingthe plate carefully, she found herself face to face with the servant whohad hidden the ladder that morning. At that moment, he too was comingsilently along the corridor, as though listening. Probably Julien had forgotten to tread softly. The servant made off in some confusion. Madamede Renal went boldly into Julien's room; her account of the incidentmade him shudder.
'You are afraid'; she said to him; 'and I, I would brave all the dangersin the world without a tremor. I fear one thing only, that is the momentwhen I shall be left alone after you have gone,' and she ran from theroom.
'Ah!' thought Julien, greatly excited, 'remorse is the only danger thatsublime soul dreads!'
Night came at last. M. de Renal went to the Casino.
His wife had announced a severe headache, she retired to her room,made haste to dismiss Elisa, and speedily rose from her bed to open thedoor to Julien.
It so happened that he really was faint with hunger. Madame de Renalwent to the pantry to look for bread. Julien heard a loud cry. She returned and told him that on entering the dark pantry, making her way toa cupboard in which the bread was kept, and stretching out her hand,she had touched a woman's arm. It was Elisa who had uttered the crywhich Julien had heard.
'What was she doing there?'
'She was stealing a few sweetmeats, or possibly spying on us,' saidMadame de Renal with complete indifference. 'But fortunately I havefound a pate and a big loaf.'
'And what have you got there?' said Julien, pointing to the pockets ofher apron.
Madame de Renal had forgotten that, ever since dinner, they had beenfilled with bread.
Julien clasped her in his arms with the keenest passion; never had sheseemed to him so beautiful. 'Even in Paris,' he told himself vaguely, 'Ishall not be able to find a nobler character.' She had all the awkwardnessof a woman little accustomed to attentions of this sort, and at the sametime the true courage of a person who fears only dangers of another kindand far more terrible.
While Julien was devouring his supper with a keen appetite, and hismistress was playfully apologising for the simplicity of the repast, forshe had a horror of serious speech, the door of the room was all at onceshaken violently. It was M. de Renal.
'Why have you locked yourself in?' he shouted to her.
Julien had just time to slip beneath the sofa.
'What! You are fully dressed,' said M. de Renal, as he entered; 'you arehaving supper, and you have locked your door?'
On any ordinary day, this question, put with all the brutality of a husband, would have troubled Madame de Renal, but she felt that her husband had only to lower his eyes a little to catch sight of Julien; for M. deRenal had flung himself upon the chair on which Julien had been sittinga moment earlier, facing the sofa.
Her headache served as an excuse for everything. While in his turn herhusband was giving her a long and detailed account of the pool he hadwon in the billiard room of the Casino, 'a pool of nineteen francs, begad!'
he added, she saw lying on a chair before their eyes, and within a fewfeet of them, Julien's hat. Cooler than ever, she began to undress, and,choosing her moment, passed swiftly behind her husband and flung agarment over the chair with the hat on it.
At length M. de Renal left her. She begged Julien to begin over againthe story of his life in the Seminary: 'Yesterday I was not listening to you,I was thinking, while you were speaking, only of how I was to bring myself to send you away.'
She was the embodiment of imprudence. They spoke very loud; and itmight have been two o'clock in the morning when they were interruptedby a violent blow on the door. It was M. de Renal again:
'Let me in at once, there are burglars in the house!' he said, 'Saint-Jeanfound their ladder this morning.'
'This is the end of everything,' cried Madame de Renal, throwing herself into Julien's arms. 'He is going to kill us both, he does not believe inthe burglars; I am going to die in your arms, more fortunate in my deaththan I have been in my life.' She made no answer to her husband, whowas waiting angrily outside, she was holding Julien in a passionateembrace.
'Save Stanislas's mother,' he said to her with an air of command. 'I amgoing to jump down into the courtyard from the window of the closet,and escape through the garden, the dogs know me. Make a bundle of myclothes and throw it down into the garden as soon as you can. Meanwhile, let him break the door in. And whatever you do, no confession, Iforbid it, suspicion is better than certainty.'
'You will kill yourself, jumping down,' was her sole reply and her soleanxiety.
She went with him to the window of the closet; she then took suchtime as she required to conceal his garments. Finally she opened the doorto her husband, who was boiling with rage. He searched the bedroom,the closet, without uttering a word, and then vanished. Julien's clotheswere thrown down to him, he caught them and ran quickly down thegarden towards the Doubs.
As he ran, he heard a bullet whistle past him, and simultaneously thesound of a gun being fired.
'That is not M. de Renal,' he decided, 'he is not a good enough shot.'
The dogs were running by his side in silence, a second shot apparentlyshattered the paw of one dog, for it began to emit lamentable howls. Julien jumped the wall of a terrace, proceeded fifty yards under cover, thencontinued his flight in a different direction. He heard voices calling, andcould distinctly see the servant, his enemy, fire a gun; a farmer also cameand shot at him from the other side of the garden, but by this time Julienhad reached the bank of the Doubs, where he put on his clothes.
An hour later, he was a league from Verrieres, on the road to Geneva.
'If there is any suspicion,' thought Julien, 'it is on the Paris road that theywill look for me.'