by George Sand
real than if I had been in yours? Did i recognize my fault ? Did I even suspect it for a moment? By the sky, no ! Nothing kept me on the brink of my fall; no secret foreboding did not warn me of the treacherous exchange that you laughed before my blind eyes. The coarse
emanations of mad joy intoxicated me as much as the sweet perfumes of my mistress. I felt the smell of a woman and, in my brutal ardor, I did not distinguish Pulchérie from Lélia! I was lost, I was drunk, I thought I pressed against my chest the dream of my fiery nights and far from being frozen by the contact of an unknown woman, I drank
of love ; I blessed the sky, I accepted the most contemptuous Page 214
substitution with transport, with sobs; I have possessed Lélia in my soul and my mouth devoured Pulchérie, without distrust, without disgust, without suspicion.
Brava! Madam, you succeeded, you have me
convinced. The pleasure of the senses can exist isolated from all pleasures of the heart, of all the satisfactions of the mind. For you, the soul can live without the help of the senses. You are an ethereal and sublime nature. But I'm a vile mortal, a miserable brute. I cannot stay near a beloved woman, touch his hand, breathe his breath, receive his forehead kissing, without my chest swelling, without my sight becoming troubled, without my mind getting lost and succumbing. Must therefore that I escape these dangers, that I escape from these suffering. I must also guard against contempt for the one I love with an unworthy and revolting love. Farewell, Madam, I am running away from you forever. You will no longer blush to inspire the heat with which I was consumed at your feet.
But as my soul is not depraved, as I do not
then carry, in the arms of the infamous debauchery that you me give for lovers, a heart filled with a holy love, as I cannot combine the memory of heavenly voluptuousness with feeling of earthly voluptuousness, I now want to extinguish my imagination, to renounce my soul, to close my breast to noble desires. I want to go down to the level of life that you made me and live from realities, as so far I have lived from fictions. I'm a man now, right? I have
science of good and evil. I can walk alone. I don't have anymore nothing to learn. Stay in your rest, I lost mine.
Alas! is it therefore true? So i was a childish insane, a miserable madman when I believed in the promises of the heaven when I imagined that man was as good organized as field herbs, that its existence could to double up, complement each other, merge with another existence and being absorbed in the embraces of a sacred transport!
I believed it! I knew these mysteries were being fulfilled in the warmth of the sun, under the eye of God, in the chalice of flowers! and I was like, "Pure man's love for pure woman is as suave, as legitimate, as ardent as those. »I no longer remembered the laws, customs and Page 215
mores distort the use of human faculties and destroy the order of the universe. Unaffected by tormenting ambitions men, I took refuge in love, without thinking that the company had also been there and there was no other resource to fiery souls than to wear out and die out by contempt for themselves in false and arid joys pleasures.
But whose fault is it? Isn't it above all God? He ... not I have never happened to accuse God and it is you, Lélia, who
taught me to be terrified of his stops, to blame him for his rigors. Now this confident superstition which dazzled me dissipates. This golden cloud that hid me Divinity vanishes. Descended into the depths of me-I even learned my weakness, I blushed at my stupidity, I cried with rage upon seeing the power of matter and the helplessness of this soul of which I was so proud, of which I believed the reign so assured. I know who I am and I ask my master why he did this to me, why
this greedy intelligence, why this imagination proud and delicate are at the mercy of the most rude desires; why the senses can silence thought, stifle the instinct of the heart, the discernment of the spirit.
O shame! shame and pain! I thought the kisses of this woman would find me as cold as marble. I thought my heart would be lifted in disgust by approaching it and I was happy with her and my soul expanded in possessing this soulless body!
It is I who despicable, and it is God I hate, and you too, you, the lighthouse and the star who made me known the horror of these abysses, not to preserve myself from it, but to rush into it; you, Lélia, who could close my eyes, spare me these hideous truths, give me a pleasure which I would not have blushed, a happiness that I would not have cursed and hated! Yes, I hate you like my enemy, like my plague, as the instrument of my loss! You could at less prolong my error and stop for a few more days at the gates of eternal pain and you didn't want it!
And you pushed me into vice without deigning to warn me, without writing at the entrance: "Leave hope at the gates of this Page 216
hell, you who want to cross the threshold, face it terrors! I saw everything, all braved. I'm also a scholar, too wise, as unhappy as you are. I no longer need a guide.
I know what goods I can use, what ambitions it I have to give up; I know what resources can grow boredom that devours your life. I will use it since it is necessary.
So farewell! You have taught me well, enlightened me; I owe you science; cursed are you, Lélia! "
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Part five
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1
Wine
One morning, we saw a stranger stop at the gates of the city.
He came on foot through grassy valleys and his shoe was still damp with dew. He walked alone, without any other weapon than a white stick, and, seeing his austere costume, his forehead serious and his gait peaceful, one would have venerated like a apostle of the old days. Although it had neither flap nor tonsure, the first bourgeois to whom he addressed took him for a priest, to because of his black clothes and long hair. But the worthy man stepped back in surprise when the stranger, in a tone calm and modest, asked in which district of the city was located the palace of the signora Zinzolina.
"Your apostolic lordship wants to mock his very devoted servant, replied the city dweller, suppressing an exclamation of mischievous joy. Your canonica eccellenza has the wrong name certainly… La Zinzolina… la signora Cort… ”
The tone in which the stranger repeated his request was so absolute, if firm, so icy that all the pleasant ones, already grouped around him, looked at each other as if to wonder what was this man, whose voice and gesture commanded fear.
A guide was given to the foreigner who, without taking any rest, went immediately to the home of the courtesan.
Seeing his dull shoe, his stick and his broad travel hat, the lackeys turned their backs on him and did not deign to listen to his questions.
So he dismissed his guide and entered the palace, raising his staff, impassively, over all those who tried to stop him. A small page entered in frightened the room where Zinzolina treated her guests.
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An abbatone , an abbataccio , he said, had just entered force into the house, hitting the people of the signora, Japanese porcelain, alabaster statues, mosaic paving stones, making a terrible damage and proffering terrible curses.
Immediately all the guests rose (except one, who slept) and wanted to run in front of the abbey for the hunt. But the Zinzolina, instead of sharing their indignation, rolled back in his chair, laughing. Then she got up at in turn, but to impose silence on them and order them to seated.
"Place, place to the abbot!" she says ; I like priests intolerant and angry: these are the most damnable. Let's do enter he signor abbate , open the door to two doors and that we bring wine from Cyprus. "
The page obeyed and, when the door was opened, we saw coming to bottom of the gallery the solemn and majestic figure of
Trenmor. But the only guest who could have recognized him and present was sleeping so deeply that these explosions of surprise, anger and gaiety, had not only done so start.
Seeing more closely the so-called ecclesiastical, the joyful companions of the Zinzolina recognized that his foreign clothing was not that of a
priest; but the courtesan, persisting in her mistake, told her by going to her meeting and making herself as beautiful and as sweet as madonna: " Vieni, signor vescovo, o arcivescovo, o cardinale, ossia papa ; welcome and give me a kiss. "
Trenmor gave the courtesan a kiss, but with an air so indifferent and with lips so cold that she stepped back three not shouting half anger, half terrified: "By the golden hair of the Virgin! it is the kiss of a specter. "
But she soon resumed her cheekiness and, seeing that Trenmor took a dark look of anxiety on the guests, she drew him to a seat next to hers.
"Come on, my handsome abbot," she said, presenting her cup to him.
silver carved by Benvenuto and crowned with roses Page 221
way of the voluptuous orgies of Greece, warm your lips numb with this lacryma-christi. "
And she signed herself hypocritically, pronouncing the name of the Redeemer.
"Tell me what brings you to us or, rather, don't tell me no, let me guess. Do you want to be given a dress silk and we perfume your hair? You are the most beautiful abbot that I have never seen. But why does your mercy frown the eyebrow without answering me?
- I beg your pardon, madam, replied Trenmor, if
I respond badly to your hospitality; even though I entered here at foot, like a peddler, you receive me like a prince. I like logical and complete natures like the yours, and I value you as much, courtesan in love with all men, that an abbess in love with all the saints.
But I don't have time to take care of you, my visit has a another object, Pulchérie…
- Pulchery! said the Zinzolina, trembling. Who are you, to find out the name my mother gave me? From which country are you coming? ...
- I come from the country where Lélia is now, answered Trenmor.
"Blessed be my sister's name," said the courtesan of a serious and collected air. Then she added in a cavalier tone:
"Although she bequeathed to me the mortal remains of her lover:
- What are you saying, woman? continued Trenmor with terror, have you ever exhausted so much youth and sap? Have you got already killed this child who had not yet lived?
- If it is Sténio that you speak, she answered rest assured, he is still alive.
- He still has a month or two to live, "added one of the diners with a carefree and vague look at the sopha where a man was sleeping, his face buried in the cushions.
Trenmor's eyes followed the same direction. He lives a man of the size of Sténio, but much more slender and whose Page 222
the slender limbs rested in a sag which
predicted less drunkenness than fever. Her fine hair and rare fell in unrolled curls on a smooth white neck like that of a woman, but whose contours without
roundness betrayed a sickly and forced virility.
"Is this then Sténio?" said Trenmor in a low voice and deep, fixing on the courtesan a look that made her involuntarily turn pale and tremble. A day may come, Pulchery, where God will ask you to account for the purest and the most beautiful of his works. Aren't you afraid to think about it?
- Is it therefore my fault if Sténio is already worn out, when we all who are here and who lead the same life, we are young and vigorous? Do you think he has no other mistresses than me? Do you think he gets drunk only at my table? And you, Trenmor, because I know you by your speeches and now know who you are, haven't you experienced delirium of debauchery and did you not get out of the arms of pleasure, rich in strength and future? Besides, if any woman is guilty of his loss, it is Lélia, who had to keep this young poet with her. God intended him to love religiously one woman, to make sonnets for her, to dream of the bottom of a lonely and peaceful life the storms of destinies more active. Our orgies, our ardent pleasures, our watches noisy, he must have seen them from afar, in the mirage of his genius, and tell them in his poems, but not take them share, but not play a role. By inviting him to pleasure, is what I advised her to leave everything else? Is I told Lélia to banish it and to abandon it? Did i not know not that in the lives of men like him the intoxication of meaning had to be a relaxation and could not be a occupation?
- You are right, madam, replied Trenmor in a voice low and shaking his hand sadly; it's Lélia who lost this young man.
- Come here to look for it, to take it from our parties, to bring it back to a life of reflection and rest?
resumed Pulchérie. None of us will oppose it. Me who Page 223
still love him, I'll be grateful if you save him from him-even, if you return it to Lélia and to God.
- She's right, cried all the companions of Pulcheria. Take it, take it! His presence
sad. He is not one of us, he has always been alone among us and, by sharing our joys, he seemed to despise them. Let's go, Sténio, wake up, readjust your clothes and leave us. "
But Sténio, deaf to their clamors, remained motionless under the weight of these insulting vows and the stupidity of his sleep placed him in a situation Trenmor felt the shame in its place.
"May your young lordships please," he said gravely, "not to not abuse the condition of this child; because, if his reason sleeps, his friend is watching. "
So he approached him to wake him up.
"Take care what you are going to do," said he to him; Stenio has a tragic awakening, no one touches him with impunity when he is sleeping. The other day, he killed a dog he loved, because in jumping on his knees the poor animal had interrupted a dream where Stenio enjoyed himself. Yesterday, as he had dozed off elbows on the table, the Emerenciana having wanted to give him a kiss, he smashed his glass on his face and injured him whose mark, I believe, will never fade. When his valets do not awaken him at the time he indicates, he drives them away; But, when they wake him up, he beats them. Take care, in truth: he holds his table knife, he would be able to push it into you Chest.
- Oh my God ! thought Trenmor, so he's changed!
His sleep was pure like that of a child and, when the
a friend's hand awoke him, his first look was a smile, his first word a blessing. Poor Sténio! what sufferings have embittered your soul, what tiredness ruined your body, so that I can find you like this? This way of sleeping is that of a player or a convict. "
Motionless and standing behind the sopha, immersed in dark reflections, Trenmor looked at Sténio, whose short breathing and convulsive dreaming betrayed Page 224
interior agitations. Suddenly the young man woke up of himself and leaps, crying out in a hoarse and savage voice.
But, seeing the table and the guests who looked at him with a air of astonishment and disdain, he sat down again on the sopha and, crossing his arms, he wandered over them his dazed eye, whose wine and insomnia had altered the shape and rounded the outline.
" Well ! Jacob, yelled the young Marino ironically, did you overcome the spirit of God?
- I was struggling with him, answered Sténio, whose face immediately assumed an expression of hateful causticity, plus still foreign to the one Trenmor knew him; But, now I'm dealing with a rougher champion, since I here is in struggle with the spirit of Marino.
- The best spirit, said Marino, is one who holds a man at the level of his situation. We have gathered here to fight, glass in hand, of presence of spirit, of sustained gaiety, of equality of character. Roses which crown the cup of Zinzolina have been renewed three times since we've been here and the front of our beautiful hostess has not yet made a fold of dissatisfaction or boredom, because the good humor of his guests did not slowed down for a moment. Only one would have disturbed the party, if he were
not
well agreed that, sad or cheerful, sick or healthy, asleep or standing, among friends of pleasure, Sténio does not count, because the star of Sténio went to bed from the first hour.
- What do you have to reproach this child for? said Pulchérie. he is sick and puny: he slept all night in this corner…
- All night long ? said Sténio yawning. Are we not still in the morning? I was hoping, seeing the torches lit, that we had buried the day. What
! there are only six hours that you are together, and you are surprised not to be still bored of each other? Indeed, this is wonderful, given the choice and assortment of your lordships.
For me, I would like to stay there for eight days, but on condition that I stay there
would sleep all the time.
- And why don't you go to sleep elsewhere? said Zamarelli. The late Prince of Bambuccj, who died Page 225
last year, full of glory and years, and which was certainly the first drinker of his century, would have condemned water to perpetuity, or at least in the galleys, the ingrate that would have asleep at his table. He rightly argued that a real epicurean must repair his strength by a well-regulated life and that he there was as much impiety to sleep in front of the bottles as to drink alone and sad in an alcove. What contempt this man would have had for you, Sténio, if he had seen you busy looking for pleasure in fatigue, doing everything against measure, watching and composing poems when others sleep, falling exhausted from weariness next to full cups and women barefoot! "
Either assignment or exhaustion, Sténio did not seem to have heard a word of Zamarelli's speech; only at
last word, he raised his weightless head a little, saying:
"And where are they?"
- They have been changing their toilet, in order to appear to us at beautiful and rejuvenated morning, answered Antonio; do you want me to cede my place earlier to the Torquata? She was come here at your request, but like, instead of talking to her, you slept all night ...
- I don't care, you did well! answered Sténio, apparently insensitive to all these sarcasm; besides i don't care more than Marino's mistress. Zinzolina, bring her here.
- If you had made such a request before midnight, said Marino, I could have made you swallow the pieces of your glass; but it's six o'clock and my mistress has spent all this time here.
So take her now if she wants. "
Zinzolina leaned towards the ear of Sténio.
"Princess Claudia, who is sick with love for you, Sténio, will be here in half an hour. She will enter without being seen in the garden pavilion. I heard you praise her modesty yesterday and its beauty. I knew her secret, I wanted her to be happy and that Sténio was the rival of the kings, Page 226