United States or Réunion ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"During the campaign of 1812," General de Montriveau began, "I was the involuntary cause of a terrible disaster which may be of use to you, Doctor Bianchon," turning to me, "since, while devoting yourself to the human body, you concern yourself a good deal with the mind; it may tend to solve some of the problems of the will.
And if a man takes such an idea into his head when his heart has never been touched before, and love begins to be a kind of religion with him, he little knows in what a hell he has set his foot. Armand de Montriveau suddenly took flight and went home in the first hot fever-fit of the first love that he had known.
And then as if the impression which Montriveau had made upon her were suddenly revived she recollected his air of conviction as he took out his watch, and in a sudden spasm of dread she went out. By this time it was about midnight. One of her servants, waiting with her pelisse, went down to order her carriage. On her way home she fell naturally enough to musing over M. de Montriveau's prediction.
He hurried away at once to the Vidame, and found that worthy gentleman in the act of slipping on his flowered dressing-gown, thinking the while of his fair cousin's happiness. Montriveau gave him one of the terrific glances that produced the effect of an electric shock on men and women alike. "Is it possible that you have lent yourself to some cruel hoax, monsieur?" Montriveau exclaimed.
Can you imagine that I am to be the prize of a crime? Do you want to kill me? Why! you cannot have any religion in you! For my own part, I fear God. M. de Langeais may have given me reason to hate him, but I wish him no manner of harm." M. de Montriveau beat a tattoo on the marble chimney-piece, and only looked composedly at the lady. "Dear," continued she, "respect him.
She reached the Boulevard d'Enfer, and looked out for the last time through falling tears on the noisy, smoky city that lay below in a red mist, lighted up by its own lamps. Then she hailed a cab, and drove away, never to return. When the Marquis de Montriveau reached the Hotel de Langeais, and found no trace of his mistress, he thought that he had been duped.
You should not dislike the "romantic romance," which every one in these days advises us to write as if that style did not begin as far back as the birth of romance itself: as if the Princess of Cleves had not written, and as if Balzac himself, the great realist, had not invented, the finest "romantic romances" that can be found for example, the amorous adventure of General de Montriveau and the Duchesse de Langlais!
It was thus that, wholly absorbed by his happiness, Montriveau understood passion. "We belong to each other forever!" The thought was like a talisman fulfilling the wishes of his life. He did not ask whether the Duchess might not change, whether her love might not last. No, for he had faith. Without that virtue there is no future for Christianity, and perhaps it is even more necessary to society.
He would lend himself to nothing of which he was ashamed; he never asked anything for himself; in short, Armand de Montriveau was one of many great men unknown to fame, and philosophical enough to despise it; living without attaching themselves to life, because they have not found their opportunity of developing to the full their power to do and feel.
To everything that I said of him, one of those that praise him sky-high would always answer, 'He knows how to love! People are always telling me that Montriveau would give up all for his friend; that his is a great nature. Pooh! society does not want such tremendous natures. Men of that stamp are all very well at home; let them stay there and leave us to our pleasant littlenesses.
Word Of The Day