The Red and the Black: A Chronicle of the Nineteenth Century

by Stendhal

  So, even this idiot Cholin shows me the path I must follow, said Julien to himself.

  A week after the King of -----'s visit to Verrières, what surfaced from the innumerable lies, silly interpretations, ridiculous discussions etc., etc. which had focused successively on

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  the king, the Bishop of Agde, the Marquis de La Mole, the ten thousand bottles of wine, poor old fall-in-the-mud Moirod who, in the hope of getting a cross, did not venture outside his house until a month after his fall--what surfaced was the sheer indecency of having catapulted Julien Sorel, a carpenter's son, into the guard of honour. You should have heard the rich manufacturers of painted cloth on the subject, men who grew hoarse in the café morning and evening preaching equality. That haughty woman, Mme de Rênal, was the author of this abomination. And the reason for it? The lovely eyes and glowing cheeks of the little abbé Sorel made it abundantly plain.

  Shortly after the return to Vergy, Stanislas-Xavier the youngest child threw a fever; Mme de Rênal was suddenly overcome by terrible remorse. It was the first time she had reproached herself for her love with any consistency; she seemed to understand, as if by a miracle, how gross was the immorality she had allowed herself to get caught up in. In spite of her deeply religious nature, up until then she had not considered the enormity of her crime in the eyes of God.

  In the past, at the convent of the Sacred Heart, she had loved God with passion; she started to fear him likewise in her new situation. The battles which ravaged her soul were all the more terrible because there was nothing rational in her fear. Julien discovered that any attempt at rationalization aggravated rather than soothed her: she took it as the language of hell. However, since Julien himself was very fond of little Stanislas, he was more welcome when he talked to her of the boy's illness. This soon took a very serious turn. Then unremitting remorse deprived Mme de Rênal even of the ability to sleep; she retreated into a desperate silence: had she opened her mouth, it would have been to confess her crime to God and to mankind.

  'I entreat you,' Julien would say to her as soon as they found themselves alone, 'don't say anything to anyone; let me be the only recipient of your troubles. If you still love me, don't say anything: your words can't take the fever away from our little Stanislas.'

  But his endeavours to console her had no effect; he did not

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  know that Mme de Rênal had taken it into her head that to appease the wrath of the jealous Almighty, she had to hate Julien or else see her son die. It was because she felt she could not hate her lover that she was so wretched.

  'Keep away from me!' she said one day. 'In the name of God, leave this house: it's your presence here that's killing my son.'

  'God is punishing me,' she added in a low voice, 'he is just. I worship his justice; my crime is horrendous, and there I was living without remorse! It was the first sign of abandoning God: I must be doubly punished.'

  Julien was deeply touched. He could not detect any hypocrisy or exaggeration in this. She thinks she's killing her son by loving me, and yet, poor thing, she loves me more than her son. This is the source, I'm convinced, of the remorse that's killing her; these are truly noble sentiments. But how did I manage to inspire a love like this: I'm so poor, so badly brought up, so ignorant, even sometimes so crude in my ways?

  One night, the child's fever was at its height. Around two in the morning M. de Rênal came to see him. The child, racked with fever, was exceedingly flushed and failed to recognize his father. Suddenly Mme de Rênal flung herself at her husband's feet: Julien saw that she was going to confess everything and ruin herself for ever.

  By good luck M. de Rênal was very put out by this strange gesture.

  'Goodnight! goodnight!' he said as he turned to leave.

  'No, listen to me!' exclaimed his wife kneeling before him and trying to hold him back. 'You must learn the whole truth. It's my fault that my son is dying. I gave life to him, and I am taking it from him. Heaven is punishing me, in the eyes of God I'm guilty of murder. I must bring about my own downfall and my own humiliation; perhaps this sacrifice will appease the Lord.'

  If M. de Rênal had been a man of any imagination, he would have understood everything.

  'Romantic nonsense,' he exclaimed pushing away his wife who was trying to clasp his knees. 'This is all a whole lot of romantic nonsense! Julien, summon the doctor at daybreak.'

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  And off he went to bed. Mme de Rênal fell on her knees, half unconscious, thrusting Julien away with a convulsive gesture when he tried to come to her aid. Julien stood amazed.

  So this is adultery! he said... Could it possibly be that those two-faced priests... are right? That men who commit so many sins are privileged to know the real workings of sin? What a peculiar state of affairs!

  For twenty minutes now since M. de Rênal had withdrawn, Julien had watched the woman he loved kneeling with her head resting on the child's little bed, motionless and almost unconscious. Here's a woman of superior genius plunged in the very depths of misery because of knowing me, he said.

  Time is racing by. What can I do for her? I must make up my mind. In this situation it isn't a question of what I want any more. What do I care about other people and their insipid little comedies? What can I do for her... leave her? But I'd be leaving her alone in the grip of the most appalling grief. Her automaton of a husband is more of a hindrance than a help to her. He'll say some harsh word to her through being so crude; she may go mad and fling herself out of the window.

  If I leave her, if I stop watching over her, she'll confess everything to him. And who knows, perhaps in spite of the inheritance she's due to bring him he'll cause a scandal. She may tell all, great heavens! to that b... idiot of a Father Maslon, who uses a six-year-old's illness an as excuse for not budging from this house, and with an ulterior motive too. In her grief and her fear of God she forgets everything she knows about the man; she only sees the priest.

  'Go away!' said Mme de Rênal to him all of a sudden, opening her eyes.

  'I'd lay down my life over and over again to know what would be of greatest help to you,' Julien replied. 'I've never loved you so much, my darling angel, or rather it's only now that I begin to adore you as you deserve. What will become of me far away from you, with the knowledge that you're unhappy through my fault! But let's not think about my suffering. All right, I'll go, my love. But if I leave you, if I cease to watch over you, to be constantly there between you

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  and your husband, you'll tell him all, you'll ruin yourself. Just think how ignominiously he'll drive you from his house; the whole of Verrières, the whole of Besançon will talk of this scandal. You'll be made into the guilty party; you'll never get over the shame of it...'

  'That's what I want,' she exclaimed, rising to her feet. 'I shall suffer: so much the better.'

  'But you'll also bring about his own ruin with this abominable scandal!'

  'But I'll be humiliating myself, I'll be flinging myself into the mire; and perhaps in so doing I shall save my son. Perhaps this humiliation in front of everyone is a form of public penitence? As far as I can judge in my weakness, isn't this the greatest sacrifice I can make to God?... Perhaps he will deign to accept my humiliation and leave me my son! Show me another more painful sacrifice and I'm ready for it.'

  'Let me punish myself. I'm guilty too. Do you want me to retreat to the Trappist monastery? The austerity of life there may appease your God... Oh heavens! Why can't I take Stanislas's illness upon myself...?'

  'Oh, you really love him, you do!' said Mme de Rênal, getting up and flinging herself into his arms.

  At the same moment she pushed him away in horror.

  'I believe you! I believe you!' she went on, sinking to her knees again. 'Oh my only friend! Oh why aren't you Stanislas's father? Then it wouldn't be a horrible crime to love you more than your son.'

  'Will you allow me to stay, and to love you from now on just like a brother? It's the only
only expiation that makes sense; it may appease the wrath of the Almighty.'

  'And what about me?' she cried, getting up and clasping Julien's head in both hands, and gazing at it at arm's length, 'what about me, am I to love you like a brother? Is it in my power to love you like a brother?'

  Tears were starting to run down Julien's face.

  'I shall obey you,' he said falling at her feet. 'I shall obey you whatever you order me to do; it's all that's left for me. My mind is struck blind; I can't see what to do. If I leave you, you'll tell your husband everything; you'll ruin yourself and

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  him too. There's no way, after this ridicule, that he'll ever be chosen for the National Assembly. If I stay, you'll think me the cause of your son's death, and you'll die of grief. Do you want to try out the effect of my departure? If you like, I'll punish myself for our wrongdoing by leaving you for a week. I'll go and spend it in a retreat of your choosing. In the abbey at Bray-le-Haut, for instance: but swear to me that during my absence you won't confess anything to your husband. Just think that I won't ever be able to come back if you say anything.'

  She promised, he left, but was recalled after two days.

  'It's impossible for me to keep my oath without you. I shall tell my husband if you aren't there constantly to order me with your eyes to keep silent. Each hour of this abominable life seems to me to last a whole day.'

  At last heaven took pity on this wretched mother. Gradually Stanislas emerged from danger. But the illusion was shattered, her reason had grasped the extent of her sin; she was unable to regain her stability. Her remorse remained, and it was as you would expect in a heart of such sincerity. Her life was heaven and hell: hell when she did not have Julien with her, heaven when she was at his feet. 'I don't have any illusions left,' she said to him even at times when she dared to indulge her love to the full. 'I'm damned, damned beyond remission. You are young, you yielded to my seduction, heaven may forgive you; but I am damned. I know from a sure sign: I'm afraid. Who wouldn't be afraid at the sight of hell? But deep down I don't repent. I'd commit my sin again if it had to be committed. If heaven would just refrain from punishing me in this world and through my children, then I shall have more than I deserve. But what about you at least, my own Julien,' she exclaimed at other moments, 'are you happy? Do I love you enough for your liking?'

  Julien's mistrustfulness and his touchy pride, which were particularly in need of a love full of sacrifices, did not hold out in the face of a sacrifice so total, so indubitable and so constantly renewed. He adored Mme de Rênal. For all that she's a noblewoman, and I'm a workman's son, she still loves me... I'm not a valet she uses to fulfil the functions of a

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  lover. With this fear removed Julien fell victim to all the follies of love, and all its deadly uncertainties.

  'At any rate', she exclaimed on seeing his doubts about her love, 'let me make you truly happy for the short time we have to spend together! Let's be quick about it; maybe tomorrow I won't be yours any more. If heaven strikes me through my children, it'll be no use my trying to live solely in order to love you, trying not to see that my crime is what's killing them. I shouldn't be able to survive such a blow. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't be able to; I'd go mad.

  Ah! if only I could take your sin upon myself, just as you made me such a generous offer of taking on Stanislas's burning fever!'

  This great spiritual crisis changed the nature of the feeling which bound Julien to his mistress. His love was no longer merely admiration for her beauty and pride at possessing her.

  Their happiness was henceforth of a far superior nature, the fire which consumed them was more intense. They had moments of excitement filled with madness. Their happiness would have seemed greater in the eyes of society. But they never recovered the sweet serenity, the cloudless bliss, the straightforward happiness of the early days of their romance, when Mme de Rênal's only fear was of not being loved enough by Julien. Their happiness sometimes took on the appearance of crime.

  In the happiest and seemingly most tranquil moments, Mme de Rênal would suddenly cry out: 'Ah! God Almighty! I can see hell,' as she gripped Julien's hand convulsively. 'What horrible tortures! I've richly deserved them.' She clasped him to her, clinging to him like ivy to a wall.

  Julien would try in vain to calm this soul in turmoil. She took his hand and smothered it with kisses. Then, relapsing into gloomy brooding: 'Hell,' she said, 'hell would be a mercy for me. I'd still have a few days to spend with him on earth; but hell beginning on earth, the death of my children... Yet perhaps for that price my crime would be forgiven me... Ah! God Almighty! Do not grant me mercy at that price. These poor children haven't trespassed against you; I'm the guilty one, I alone: I love a man who isn't my husband.'

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  Then Julien would see Mme de Rênal reach moments of apparent tranquillity. She tried to take hold of herself, she wanted not to poison the very existence of the one she loved. In the midst of these alternating bouts of love, remorse and pleasure, the days sped by for them like a flash of lightning. Julien lost the habit of reflection.

  Mlle Elisa went off to Verrières to attend to a little lawsuit she had there. She found M. Valenod in high dudgeon against Julien. She hated the tutor, and often spoke of him to M. Valenod.

  'You'd ruin me, sir, if I revealed the truth!...' she said to him one day. 'Masters are all in cahoots when it comes to important things... There are some revelations that don't get forgiven to poor servants...'

  After these ritual preambles, which M. Valenod's impatient curiosity found a way of curtailing, he learned the most mortifying things for his self-esteem.

  This woman, the most distinguished in the neighbourhood, on whom he had lavished such attentions for six years, and unfortunately in full view and knowledge of everyone; this proud woman, whose rebuttals had caused him to blush on so many occasions, had just taken for a lover a little workman dressed up as tutor. And as if that weren't enough to spite the master of the workhouse, Mme de Rênal adored this lover.

  'And', added the chambermaid with a sigh, 'Mr Julien didn't put himself to any trouble to make this conquest, he didn't abandon his usual coldness one bit for Madam.'

  Elisa had not had any firm proof until they were in the country, but she thought the affair had started much earlier.

  'That's no doubt the reason', she went on in pique, 'why some while back he refused to marry me. And like a silly idiot, I went and asked Mme de Rênal's advice, and begged her to speak to the tutor.'

  That very evening M. de Rênal received a long anonymous letter sent from town with his newspaper, informing him in the minutest detail of what was going on in his house. As he read this letter written on blue-tinted paper, Julien saw him grow pale and cast hostile glances in his direction. The mayor

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  did not get over his discomfiture for the remainder of the evening, and Julien achieved nothing when he tried to butter him up by asking him to explain the genealogy of the best families in Burgundy.

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  CHAPTER 20

  Anonymous letters

  Do not give dalliance

  Too much rein: the strongest oaths are straw

  To the fire i' the blood.

  TEMPEST

  As they were leaving the drawing-room at about midnight, Julien had time to say to his mistress:

  'We must avoid seeing each other this evening: your husband has his suspicions; I'd swear that long letter he was reading with so many sighs is an anonymous one.'

  Fortunately, Julien was in the habit of locking himself into his room. Mme de Rênal had the mad idea that this warning was just an excuse for not seeing her. She lost her head completely and came to his door at the usual time. Hearing a noise in the corridor, Julien instantly blew out his lamp. Someone was trying to open his door: was it Mme de Rênal? Was it a jealous husband?

  Very early the next morning the cook, who was Julien's ally, brought him a book: on the cover he r
ead these words in Italian: Guardate alla pagine 130. *

  Julien trembled at her rashness, looked for page 130 and found pinned to it the following letter, written in haste, tearstained and full of spelling mistakes. *

  Normally Mme de Rênal was very careful over spelling: he was touched by this detail and temporarily forgot the terrible rashness.

  So you didn't want me to come to you last night? There are moments when I think I've never read into the depths of your soul. The look in your eyes terrifies me. I'm afraid of you. God Almighty! Can it be that you've never loved me? If so, let my husband find out about our romance, let him shut me up in an eternal prison, in the country, away from my children. Perhaps God wills it this way. I'll soon die. But you'll be a monster.

  Don't you love me? Are you tired of my follies and my remorse, you ungodly creature? Do you wish to ruin me? I'll give you an easy

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  way to do it. Go on, show this letter to the whole of Verrières, or rather, just to M. Valenod. Tell him I love you, no, don't utter such blasphemy, tell him I adore you, that life only began for me the day I set eyes on you; that in the wildest moments of my youth, I'd never even dreamed of happiness like you've brought me; that you've had the sacrifice of my life, and you're getting the sacrifice of my soul. You know that the sacrifice is even greater than that.

  But what does a man like that know about sacrifices, anyway? Tell him, tell him to annoy him that I defy all ill-wishers, and that there's only one misfortune left in the world for me--to see a change of heart in the only man who makes my life worth clinging to. How glad I shall be to lose it, to offer it up as a sacrifice and be rid of my fears for my children!