by George Sand
"You must come with me to Lélia," said to her.
he looked serious, but peaceful; Lélia wants to see you. I think that her time has come and that she will die. "
Sténio rose abruptly and fell back on his chair, pale
and without force; then he got up again, took convulsively the arm of Trenmor and ran to Lélia.
She was lying on a sofa; her cheeks had a reflection blue, his eyes seemed to have withdrawn under the deep arc of his eyebrows. A large fold crossed his forehead, usually if polished and so white; but his voice was full and confident and the smile of disdain wandered, as usual, on his lips mobile.
Next to her was the pretty Doctor Kreyssneifetter, a charming young man, blond, ruddy, with a smile nonchalant, with a white hand, a sweet talk and protective. The pretty doctor Kreyssneifetter was familiar a hand of Lélia in hers and, from time to time, it questioned the movement of the arteries and then he passed his other hand in the beautiful curls of her hair artistically pointed up on the top of his noble skull.
"It's nothing," he said with a kind smile, "nothing all. It's cholera, cholera-morbus, the most common in the world at this time and the disease the better known. Rest assured, my beautiful angel! You have cholera, a disease that kills those who have weakness in two hours to be afraid of it, but which is not dangerous for the spirits firm like ours. So don't be scared, lovable foreign! We are here two who do not fear the cholera, you and I challenge cholera! Let's scare this ugly specter, to that hideous monster that makes your hair stand on end to the human race. Taunt cholera, it's the only way to treat him.
- But, said Trenmor, if we tried the doctor's punch Magendie?
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- Why not punch Doctor Magendie, said the pretty doctor Kreyssneifetter, if the patient has no repugnance for the punch?
- I heard, said Lélia with caustic composure, that it was very contrary. Let's try softeners instead.
- Let's try the softeners, if you believe in the virtue of softening, says pretty doctor Kreyssneifetter.
- But what will you advise, according to your conscience? "
said Sténio.
At this word of conscience, Doctor Kreyssneifetter threw a look of mocking compassion at the young poet; then he turns returned perfectly and said with a serious air:
"My conscience orders me not to order anything at all, and not to interfere in any way with this disease.
- It is very good, doctor, said Lélia. So as it happens late, good evening! Do not interrupt your
precious sleep.
- Oh ! don't pay attention, he said, I'm fine here, I I like to follow the progress of evil. I study, I love my profession of passion, and I willingly sacrifice my pleasures and my rest, I would sacrifice my life if necessary for the sake of humanity.
- So what is your job, Doctor Kreyssneifetter?
asked Trenmor.
- I console and encourage, replied the doctor: this is my vocation. The study revealed to me the importance of diseases whose man is under siege. I observe it, I observe it, I assist at the end and I take advantage of my observations.
- To schedule the precautions of the hygienic system applicable to your kind person, says Lélia.
- I have little faith in the influence of any system, says the doctor; we are all born with the principle of one more death
or less next: our efforts to delay the term do not often that hasten it. The best thing is not to think about it and wait for him, forgetting that he must come.
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- You are very philosopher, "said Lélia, taking tobacco in the doctor’s gold box.
But she had a convulsion and fell dying in the arm of Sténio.
"Come on, my beautiful child," said the beardless doctor, a little courage! If you affect your condition the least world, you're lost. But you don't run more than risk me, if you keep the same composure. "
Lélia got up on an elbow and, looking at him with her eyes extinguished by suffering, she still found the strength to smile ironically.
"Poor doctor," she said, "I would like to see you at my house."
square !
- Thank you, thought the doctor.
- So you said that you don't believe in influence remedies; don't you believe in medicine? she says.
- Sorry, the study of anatomy and knowledge of the body human with his alterations and his infirmities, this is a positive science.
- Yes, said Lélia, that you cultivate like an art accreditation. My friends, she said, turning her back on the doctor, go get me a priest: I see that the doctor
forsake me. "
Trenmor ran to get the priest. Sténio wanted to throw the doctor over the balcony.
"Leave him alone," said Lélia, "he amuses me, give him a book and take it to my office in front of a mirror, so
that he takes care. When I feel the courage to abandon myself, I will call him, so he'll give me advice of stoicism and that I die laughing at man and his science. "
The priest arrived; he was the great and handsome Irish priest of the chapel of Sainte-Laure. He approached, austere and slow. His aspect inspired religious respect; his calm gaze and deep, which seemed to reflect the sky, would have been enough to give the Page 60
faith. Lélia, broken by suffering, had hidden her face under his contracted arm, entwined with his black hair.
" My sister ! Said the priest in a full and fervent voice.
Lélia dropped her arm and slowly turned her face towards the man of God.
"Again this woman!" He cried, stepping back with terror.
Then his face was turned upside down, his eyes remained fixed and full of terror, his complexion became livid and Sténio remembered the day he saw him turn pale and tremble when meeting the skeptical look of Lélia above the prostrate crowd.
"It's you, Magnus!" she said to him; do you recognize me
- If I know you, woman! cried the priest with bewilderment; if I know you! Lie, despair, perdition!
Lélia answered only by a burst of laughter.
"Come," she said, drawing her to her with her cold hand.
and bluish, approach, priest, and tell me about God. You know why you were brought here, it's a soul that will leave the earth and must be sent to heaven; don't you have it power ? "
The priest remained silent and remained terrified.
"Come on, Magnus," she said with sad irony, and turning his pale face, already covered with the shadows of the
dead, fulfill the mission that the Church has entrusted to you, save me, don't waste time, i'll die!
- Lélia, answered the priest, I cannot save you, you know it well; your power is greater than mine.
- What does that mean ? said Lélia, standing on her layer. Am I already in the land of dreams? Am i not over the human species which crawls, which prays and which dies? Spectrum terrified that here is he not a man, a priest? Your reason is troubled, Magnus? You are there, alive and stand up, and I breathe out. Yet your ideas are clouded and your soul weakens, while mine calmly calls for strength to exhale. Come, man of little faith, call on God Page 61
for your dying sister and let the children those fears superstitious who should pity you. In truth, who are you all Here is Trenmor astonished, here is Sténio, the young poet, who looks at my feet and thinks he sees claws and there is a priest who refuses to absolve me and bury me! Am i already dead? Is it a dream I am doing?
- No, Lélia, finally says the priest in a sad voice and solemn; I don't take you for a demon, I don't believe not the demon, you know that.
- Ah! ah! she said, turning to Sténio, hear the priest: there is nothing less poetic than perfection human. Either, father, let’s deny Satan, let’s condemn him to none; I don't hold on to his alliance, even though he looks satanic is enough fashion and that it inspired to Sténio of very beautiful worms in my honor. If the devil does not exist, here I am strong in peace on my future; I can leave life at this hour, I don't will not fall into hell. But where will I go, tell me? Or you please send me
, father? In heaven, say?
- To the sky ! cried Magnus. You in heaven! is it yours mouth who pronounced this word?
- Is there no sky either? said Lélia.
- Woman, said the priest, it is not for you!
- Here is a consoling priest! she says. Since he cannot save my soul, bring the doctor, and that, for gold or for money, he decides to save my life.
- I don't see anything to do, said Doctor Kreyssneifetter, the disease follows a regular and well-known course. Have you got thirst ? bring water to you, and then calm down, expect. The remedies would kill you right now, let nature act.
- Good nature! said Lélia, I would like to invoke you!
But who are you, where is your mercy, where is your love, where is your pity ? I know that I come from you and that I owe it to you return, but in what capacity will I beg you to leave me here one more day? There may be a barren patch of land to which lack my dust to grow grass there:
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so let me go and fulfill my destiny. But you, priest, call upon me the gaze of the one who is above the nature and who can order it; that one can tell clean air to rekindle my breath, to the juice of plants to revive me, to the sun that will appear to warm my blood; see, teach me to pray to God!
- God ! said the priest, dropping overwhelmingly her head on her breast. God ! "
Burning tears ran down his withered cheeks.
"O God! he said, oh sweet dream that fled me! where are you ? where you will i find Hope, why do you abandon me without back? ... Let me, madam, let me out of here! Here
all my doubts resume their fatal empire; here in presence of death, my last hope vanishes, my last illusion! You want me to give you heaven, I make you find God. Hey! you will know if it exists, you are happier than me, who ignores it!
- Go away, said Lélia: superb men, leave my bedside. And you, Trenmor, see this, see this doctor who doesn't not believe in his science, see this priest who does not believe in God; and yet this doctor is a scientist, this priest is a theologian. This one, they say, relieves dying people, this one console the living; and both lacked faith with of a woman who is dying!
- Madam, said Kreyssneifetter, if I had tried to do the doctor with you, you would have mocked me. I know you, you are not an ordinary person you are
philosopher…
- Madam, said Magnus, does he not remember our walk in the Grimsel forest? If I had dared to do the priest with you, would you not have finished giving me back incredulous?
- So here, said Lélia bitterly, what is your strength ? The weakness of others makes your power; but, from that we resist you, you step back and you admit with a laugh that you play a false role among men, charlatans and impostors that you are! Alas, Trenmor, where are we Page 63
us? Where is the century? The scientist denies, the priest doubts.
Let's see if the poet still exists. Sténio, take your harp and sing me the verses of Faust; or open your books and repeat me the sufferings of Oberman, the transports of Saint-Preux.
Come, poet, if you still understand the pain; see,
young man, if you still believe in love.
- Alas! Lélia, exclaimed Sténio while twisting its white hands, you're a woman and you don't believe it! Where in are we, where is the century? "
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"God of heaven and earth, God of strength and love, hear a pure voice exhaling from a pure soul and a virgin breast! Hear a child's prayer, give us back Lélia!
Why, my God, do you want to rip us off right now-loved by our hearts? Hear the great and mighty voice of Trenmor, of the man who suffered, of the man who lived.
Hear the wish of a soul still ignorant of the evils of life. Both ask you to keep their property, their poetry, their hope, Lélia! If you can already place it in your glory and wrap it in your eternal bliss, take it back, my God, it belongs to you; what you intend for it is better than what you take from him. But, by saving Lélia, does not break us no, don't get lost, oh my God! Let us
follow and kneel on the throne steps where she must sit…
- It's very beautiful, said Lélia, interrupting her, but these are worms and nothing more. Let this harp sleep in peace or put it on the window, the wind will play it better than you.
Now approach. Go away, Trenmor, your calm saddens me and discourages me. Come, Sténio, tell me about you and me; God is too far away, I fear he won't hear us; But God put a little bit of him in you. Show me what your soul is possesses ; it seems to me that a very ardent aspiration of this Page 64
soul towards mine, it seems to me that a very fervent prayer that you would address to me would give me the strength to live. Strength
to live ! Yes ! it is only a question of wanting it. My pain consists, Sténio, in not being able to find in me this will.
You smile, Trenmor! Go away. Alas! Sténio, this is true, I try to resist death, but I try weakly. I have it fear less than I wish I would die by
curiosity. Alas! I need the sky, but I doubt ... and, if it There is no sky above these stars, I would like to still contemplate the earth. Maybe, my God! is it here-low only hopefully? Maybe he is in the
heart of man? ... Say, you who are young and full of life, love, is it heaven? See how my head weakens and forgive this moment of delirium. I would like to believe in something, even to you; even an hour
before finishing, perhaps without return, with men and with God !
- Doubt of God, doubt of men, doubt of myself, if you want, says Sténio, kneeling before her, but don't don't doubt love: don't doubt your heart, Lélia! If you must die now, if i must lose you, oh my
torment, oh my good, oh my hope! at least do that I believe in yourself, an hour, an instant. Alas! will you die without did i see you live? Will i die with you without kissing in you something other than a dream? My God ! is there love only in the heart that desires, that in the imagination that suffers, only in the dreams that rock us during the nights lonely? Is it an elusive breath? Is a meteor who shines and who dies? Is it a word? What is that, my God ! O heaven, O woman! will you not tell me?
- This child asks death for the secret of life, said Lélia; he kneels on a coffin to obtain love!
Poor child! My God, have mercy on him and give me back life in order to keep hers! If you give it back to me, I do
vow to live for him. He says I blasphemed you in blaspheming love: well! I will bow my forehead superb, I will believe, I will love!… Just make me live of the life of the body and I will try to live of that of the soul.
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- Do you hear, my God? exclaimed Sténio with delirium; do you hear what she says, what she promises? Save her, save me ! give me Lélia, give her life!… ”
Lélia fell stiff and cold on the parquet floor. It was a last, a horrible crisis. Sténio pressed it against his heart crying out in despair. Her heart was burning, her tears hot fell on the forehead of Lélia. His invigorating kisses brought the blood to his lips, his prayer perhaps softened the Heaven: Lélia opened her eyes weakly and told Trenmor who helped him get up:
"Sténio raised my soul; if you want to break it again with your reason, kill me right away.
- And why should I take away the only day you have left?
says Trenmor the last feather of your wing is not yet fell. "
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Second part
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1
Magnus
Sténio went down one morning the wooded slopes of the Monte Rosa. After wandering randomly on a covered trail
thick vegetation, he arrived in front of an open clearing by the fall of avalanches. It was a wild place and grand. The dark and vigorous greenery crowned the ruins of the crevassed mountain. Long clematis embraced with their fragrant arms the old black rocks and powdery snow which lay scattered in the ravine. On each side the flanks half-opened up of gigantic walls the mountain, bordered by dark fir trees and lined with vines virgins. Deep in the gorge, the torrent rolled its waters clear and noisy on a bed of
richly colored pebbles. Yes you have not seen a torrent run, purified by its thousand cataracts, on the bare entrails of the mountain, you do not not know what the beauty of water and its pure is harmonies.
Sténio loved to spend the nights, wrapped in his coat, at the edge of the waterfalls, under the religious shelter of the great cypresses
savages, whose mute and motionless branches suffocate the breath of breezes. On their thick peaks stop the voices wandering from the air, while the deep and mysterious notes flowing water comes out of the earth and exhales like religious choirs at the bottom of funeral caves.
Lying on the fresh and shiny grass that grows at the margins of currents, the poet forgot, to contemplate the moon and to listen water, the hours he could have spent with Lélia; because at this age, everything is happiness in love, even absence. The heart of the one who loves is so rich in poetry that he needs to meditation and loneliness to savor whatever he believes Page 69
see in the object of his passion everything that is not really than in itself.
Sténio spent many nights in ecstasy. The tufts briar hid his head shaken by dreams
hot. The morning dew sowed her fine hair with tears balmy. The great pines of the forest shook them perfumes they exhale at daybreak; and the kingfisher, the beautiful lonely torrents bird came to cry out melancholy in the middle of blackish stones and white foam from the torrent that the poet loved. It was a good life of love and youth, a life that summed up the happiness of a hundred lives, and yet it passed quickly like bubbling water and the fugitive cataract bird.
There are a thousand voices in the fall and in the course of water diverse and melodious, a thousand dark or brilliant colors.
Sometimes, furtive and discreet, she passes with a nervous a shudder against the slabs of marble which cover it with their bluish black reflection; sometimes white as milk, she foam and leap on the rocks with a voice that seems interspersed with anger; sometimes green as the grass it barely layer in its path, sometimes blue like the sky peaceful she thinks, she hisses in the reeds like a loving viper; or else she sleeps in the sun and wakes up with weak sighs at the slightest breath of air which caress. Other times she roars like a lost heifer in the ravines and falls, monotonous and solemn, at the bottom of a the chasm that embraces it, hides it and suffocates it. So she throws rays of the sun of light gushing drops which are colored of all the nuances of the prism. When this iridescence capricious dance on the gaping mouth of the abyss, it is fairly transparent sylphide point, fairly psyllid point soft for the imagination that contemplates it. Reverie does can evoke nothing, because, in the creations of thought, nothing is as beautiful as raw and wild nature. It is necessary