La confession d'un enfant du siècle. English

by Alfred de Musset

  CHAPTER II. UNCERTAINTY

  A kind of stagnant inertia, tempered with bitter joy, is characteristicof debauchery. It is the sequence of a life of caprice, where nothing isregulated according to the needs of the body, but everything accordingto the fantasy of the mind, and one must be always ready to obey thebehests of the other. Youth and will can resist excess; but naturesilently avenges herself, and the day when she decides to repair herforces, the will struggles to retard her work and abuses her anew.

  Finding about him then all the objects that were able to tempt him theevening before, the man who is incapable of enjoying them looks down atthem with a smile of disgust. At the same time the objects which excitehis desire are never attained with sang-froid; all that the debauchesloves, he seizes; his life is a fever; his organs, in order to searchthe depths of joy, are forced to avail themselves of the stimulant offermented liquors and sleepless nights; in the days of ennui and ofidleness he feels more keenly than other men the disparity between hisimpotence and his temptations, and, in order to resist the latter, pridemust come to his aid and make him believe that he disdains them. Itis thus he spits on all the feasts and pleasures of his life, and so,between an ardent thirst and a profound satiety, a feeling of tranquilvanity leads him to his death.

  Although I was no longer a debauches, it came to pass that my bodysuddenly remembered that it had been. It is easy to understand why Ihad not felt the effects of it sooner. While mourning my father's deathevery other thought was crowded from my mind. Then a passionate lovesucceeded; while I was alone, ennui had nothing to struggle for. Sad orgay, fair or foul, what matters it to him who is alone?

  As zinc, rarely found unmixed, drawn from the vein where it liessleeping, attracts to itself a ray of light when placed near greenleather, thus Brigitte's kisses gradually awakened in my heart what hadbeen buried there. At her side I perceived what I really was.

  There were days when I felt such a strange sensation in the morningsthat it is impossible for me to define it. I awakened without a motive,feeling like a man who has spent the night in eating and drinking tothe point of exhaustion. All external sensations caused me insupportablefatigue, all well-known objects of daily life repelled and annoyedme; if I spoke it was in ridicule of what others thought or of whatI thought myself. Then, extended on the bed, as if incapable of anymotion, I dismissed any thought of undertaking whatever had been agreedupon the evening before; I recalled all the tender and loving things Ihad said to my mistress during my better moments, and was not satisfieduntil I had spoiled and poisoned those memories of happy days. "Can younot forget all that?" Brigitte would sadly inquire, "if there are twodifferent men in you, can you not, when the bad rouses himself, forgetthe good?"

  The patience with which Brigitte opposed these vagaries only served toexcite my sinister gayety. Strange that the man who suffers wishes tomake her whom he loves suffer! To lose control of one's self, is thatnot the worst of evils? Is there anything more cruel for a woman than tohear a man turn to derision all that is sacred and mysterious? Yet shedid not flee from me; she remained at my side, while in my savage humorI insulted love and allowed insane ravings to escape from lips that werestill moist with her kisses.

  On such days, contrary to my usual inclination, I liked to talk of Parisand speak of my life of debauchery as the most commendable thing in theworld. "You are nothing but a saint," I would laughingly observe; "youdo not understand what I say. There is nothing like those careless oneswho make love without believing in it." Was that not the same as sayingthat I did not believe in it?

  "Very well," Brigitte replied, "teach me how to please you always. Iam perhaps as pretty as those mistresses whom you mourn; if I have nottheir skill to divert you, I beg that you will instruct me. Act as ifyou did not love me, and let me love you without saying anything aboutit. If I am devoted to religion, I am also devoted to love. What can Ido to make you believe it?"

  Then she would stand before the mirror arraying herself as if for asoiree, affecting a coquetry that she was far from feeling, tryingto adopt my tone, laughing and skipping about the room. "Am I to yourtaste?" she would ask. "Which one of your mistresses do I resemble? AmI beautiful, enough to make you forget that any one can believe in love?Have I a sufficiently careless air to suit you?" Then, in the midst ofthat factitious joy, she would turn her back and I could see her shudderuntil the flowers she had placed in her hair trembled. I threw myself ather feet.

  "Stop!" I cried, "you resemble only too closely that which you try toimitate, that which my mouth has been so vile as to conjure up beforeyou. Lay aside those flowers and that dress. Let us wash away suchmimicry with a sincere tear; do not remind me that I am but a prodigalson; I remember the past too well."

  But even this repentance was cruel, as it proved to her that thephantoms in my heart were full of reality. In yielding to an impulseof horror I merely gave her to understand that her resignation and herdesire to please me only served to call up an impure image.

  And it was true; I reached her side transported with joy, swearing thatI would regret my past life; on my knees I protested my respect forher; then a gesture, a word, a trick of turning as she approached me,recalled to my mind the fact that such and such a woman had made thatgesture, had used that word, had that same trick of turning.

  Poor devoted soul! What didst thou suffer in seeing me turn pale beforethee, in seeing my arms fall as though lifeless at my side! When thekiss died on my lips, and the full glance of love, that pure ray ofGod's light, fled from my eyes like an arrow turned by the wind! Ah!Brigitte! what diamonds trickled from thine eyes! What treasures ofcharity didst thou exhaust with patient hand! How pitiful thy love!

  For a long time good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly;I showed myself alternately cruel and scornful, tender and devoted,insensible and haughty, repentant and submissive. The face of Desgenais,which had at first appeared to me as though to warn me whither Iwas drifting, was now constantly before me. On my days of doubt andcoldness, I conversed, so to speak, with him; often when I had offendedBrigitte by some cruel mockery I said to myself "If he were in my placehe would do as I do!"

  And then at other times, when putting on my hat to visit Brigitte, Iwould look in my glass and say: "What is there so terrible about it,anyway? I have, after all, a pretty mistress; she has given herself toa libertine, let her take me for what I am." I reached her side witha smile on my lips, I sank into a chair with an air of deliberateinsolence; then I saw Brigitte approach, her large eyes filled withtenderness and anxiety; I seized her little hands in mine and lostmyself in an infinite dream.

  How name a thing that is nameless? Was I good or bad? Was I distrustfulor a fool? It is useless to reflect on it; it happened thus.

  One of our neighbors was a young woman whose name was Madame Daniel. Shepossessed some beauty, and still more coquetry; she was poor, but triedto pass for rich; she would come to see us after dinner and alwaysplayed a heavy game against us, although her losses embarrassed her; shesang, but had no voice. In the solitude of that unknown village, wherean unkind fate had buried her, she was consumed with an uncontrollablepassion for pleasure. She talked of nothing but Paris, which she visitedtwo or three times a year. She pretended to keep up with the fashions,and my dear Brigitte assisted her as best she could, while smiling withpity. Her husband was employed by the government; once a year he wouldtake her to the house of the chief of his department, where, attiredin her best, the little woman danced to her heart's content. She wouldreturn with shining eyes and tired body; she would come to us to tell ofher prowess, and her success in assaulting the masculine heart. The restof the time she read novels, never taking the trouble to look after herhousehold affairs, which were not always in the best condition.

  Whenever I saw her, I laughed at her, finding nothing so ridiculousas the high life she thought she was leading. I would interrupther description of a ball to inquire about her husband and herfather-in-law, both of whom she detested, the one because he was herhusb
and, and the other because he was only a peasant; in short, we werealways disputing on some subject.

  In my evil moments I thought of paying court to her just for the sake ofannoying Brigitte.

  "You see," I said, "how perfectly Madame Daniel understands life! In herpresent sprightly humor could one desire a more charming mistress?"

  I then paid her the most extravagant compliments; her senselesschatting I described as unrestraint tempered by finesse, her pretentiousexaggerations as a natural desire to please; was it her fault that shewas poor? At least she thought of nothing but pleasure and confessed itfreely; she did not preach sermons herself, nor did she listen to themfrom others; I went so far as to tell Brigitte that she ought to adopther as a model, and that she was just the kind of woman to please me.

  Poor Madame Daniel discovered signs of melancholy in Brigitte's eyes.She was a strange creature, as good and sincere--when you couldget finery out of her head--as she was stupid when absorbed in suchfrivolous affairs. On occasion she could be both good and stupid.One fine day, when they were walking together, she threw herself intoBrigitte's arms, and told her that she had noticed I was beginning topay court to her, and that I had made certain proposals to her, themeaning of which was not doubtful; but she knew that I was another'slover, and as for her, whatever might happen, she would die rather thandestroy the happiness of a friend. Brigitte thanked her, and MadameDaniel, having set her conscience at ease, considered it no sin torender me desolate by languishing glances.

  In the evening, when she had gone, Brigitte, in a severe tone, toldme what had happened; she begged me to spare her such affronts in thefuture.

  "Not that I attach any importance to such pleasantries," she said, "butif you have any love for me, it seems to me it is useless to inform athird party that there are times when you have not."

  "Is it possible," I replied with a smile, "that it is important? You seevery well that I was only joking, and that I did it only to pass awaythe time."

  "Ah! my friend, my friend," said Brigitte, "it is a pity that you mustseek pastimes."

  A few days later I proposed that we go to the prefecture to see MadameDaniel dance; she unwillingly consented. While she was arranging hertoilette, I sat near the window and reproached her for losing her formercheerfulness.

  "What is the matter with you?" I asked. (I knew as well as she.) "Whythat morose air that never leaves you? In truth, you make our life quitesad. I have known you when you were more joyous, more free and moreopen; I am not flattered by the thought that I am responsible for thechange. But you have a cloistral disposition; you were born to live in aconvent."

  It was Sunday; as we were driving down the road Brigitte ordered thecarriage to stop in order to say good-evening to some friends, fresh andvigorous country girls, who were going to dance at Tilleuls. When theyhad gone on, Brigitte followed them with, longing eyes; her littlerustic dance was very dear to her; she dried her eyes with herhandkerchief.

  We found Madame Daniel at the prefecture in high feather. I danced withher so often that it excited comment; I paid her a thousand complimentsand she replied as best she could.

  Brigitte was near us, and her eyes never left us. I can hardly describewhat I felt; it was both pleasure and pain. I clearly saw that she wasjealous; but instead of being moved by it I did all I could to increaseher suffering.

  On the return I expected to hear her reproaches; she made none, butremained silent for three days. When I came to see her she wouldgreet me kindly; then we would sit down facing each other, both ofus preoccupied, hardly exchanging a word. The third day she spoke,overwhelmed me with bitter reproaches, told me that my conductwas unreasonable, that she could not account for it except on thesupposition that I had ceased to love her; but she could not endure thislife and would resort to anything rather than submit to my caprices andcoldness. Her eyes were full of tears, and I was about to ask her pardonwhen some words escaped her that were so bitter that my pride revolted.I replied in the same tone, and our quarrel became violent.

  I told her that it was absurd to suppose that I could not inspire enoughconfidence in my mistress to escape the necessity of explaining my everyaction; that Madame Daniel was only a pretext; that she very well knewI did not think of that woman seriously; that her pretended jealousy wasnothing but the expression of her desire for despotic power, and that,moreover, if she had tired of this life, it was easy enough to put anend to it.

  "Very well," she replied; "it is true that I do not recognize you asthe same man I first knew; you doubtless performed a little comedy topersuade me that you loved me; you are tired of your role and can thinkof nothing but abuse. You suspect me of deceiving you upon the firstword, and I am under no obligation to submit to your insults. You are nolonger the man I loved."

  "I know what your sufferings are," I replied. "I can not make a stepwithout exciting your alarm. Soon I shall not be permitted to address aword to any one but you. You pretend that you have been abused in orderthat you may be justified in offering insult; you accuse me of tyrannyin order that I may become your slave. Since I trouble your repose, Ileave you in peace; you will never see me again."

  We parted in anger, and I passed an entire day without seeing her. Thenext night, toward midnight, I was seized by a feeling of melancholythat I could not resist. I shed a torrent of tears; I overwhelmed myselfwith reproaches that I richly deserved. I told myself that I was nothingbut a fool, and a cowardly fool at that, to make the noblest, the bestof creatures, suffer in this way. I ran to her to throw myself at herfeet.

  Entering the garden, I saw that her room was lighted and a flash ofsuspicion crossed my mind. "She does not expect me at this hour," Isaid to myself; "who knows what she may be doing. I left her in tearsyesterday; I may find her ready to sing to-day and caring no more for methan if I never existed. I must enter gently, in order to surprise her."

  I advanced on tiptoe, and the door being open, I could see Brigittewithout being seen.

  She was seated at her table and was writing in that same book that hadaroused my suspicions. She held in her left hand a little box of whitewood which she looked at from time to time and trembled. There wassomething sinister in the quiet that reigned in the room. Her secretarywas open and several bundles of papers were carefully ranged in order.

  I made some noise at the door. She rose, went to the secretary, closedit, then came to me with a smile:

  "Octave," she said, "we are two children. If you had not come here, Ishould have gone to you. Pardon me, I was wrong. Madame Daniel comesto dinner to-morrow; make me repent, if you choose, of what you call mydespotism. If you but love me I am happy; let us forget what is past andlet us not spoil our happiness."