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Updated: June 2, 2025
As he passed through the palace gate he was seized by men who deftly gagged him with a handkerchief and placed him in the carriage hired by Sarrasine. Frozen with terror, Zambinella lay back in a corner, not daring to move a muscle. He saw before him the terrible face of the artist, who maintained a deathlike silence. The journey was a short one.
"'I shall always have in my memory a divine harpy who will bury her talons in all my manly sentiments, and who will stamp all other women with a seal of imperfection. Monster! you, who can give life to nothing, have swept all women off the face of the earth. "Sarrasine seated himself in front of the terrified singer.
"'Zambinella! cried Sarrasine, thrown into delirium by that name; 'I am mad with love of her. "'You are like everybody else, replied his comrade. "'But if you are friends of mine, you and Vien and Lauterbourg and Allegrain, you will lend me your assistance for a coup de main, after the entertainment, will you not? asked Sarrasine. "'There's no cardinal to be killed? no ?
'I am afraid of the disgusting creatures. "Sarrasine crushed the snake's head with a blow of his foot. "'How could you dare to do it? said La Zambinella, gazing at the dead reptile with visible terror. "'Aha! said the artist, with a smile, 'would you venture to say now that you are not a woman?
Cardinal Cicognara is her protector, and he is no trifler. "If a demon had placed the deep pit of hell between Sarrasine and La Zambinella, he would have crossed it with one stride at that moment. Like the horses of the immortal gods described by Homer, the sculptor's love had traversed vast spaces in a twinkling.
Sarrasine drew his mistress in all poses: he drew her unveiled, seated, standing, reclining, chaste, and amorous interpreting, thanks to the delirious activity of his pencil, all the fanciful ideas which beset our imagination when our thoughts are completely engrossed by a mistress. But his frantic thoughts outran his pencil.
Not without profound sorrow did the king's sculptor witness the departure for Italy of a young man whose profound ignorance of the things of life he had, as a matter of principle, refrained from enlightening. Sarrasine was Bouchardon's guest for six years.
Old Maitre Sarrasine, having but one child, determined to give him a thorough education; he hoped to make a magistrate of him, and to live long enough to see, in his old age, the grandson of Mathieu Sarrasine, a ploughman in the Saint-Die country, seated on the lilies, and dozing through the sessions for the greater glory of the Parliament; but Heaven had not that joy in store for the attorney.
But with that passionate nature, gentleness was always the most powerful of all weapons, and the master did not acquire great influence over his pupil until he had aroused his gratitude by fatherly kindness. "At the age of twenty-two Sarrasine was forcibly removed from the salutary influence which Bouchardon exercised over his morals and his habits.
Then, like all young men of powerful feelings, he exaggerated the difficulties of his undertaking, and gave his passion, for its first pasturage, the joy of being able to admire his mistress without obstacle. The golden age of love, during which we enjoy our own sentiments, and in which we are almost as happy by ourselves, was not likely to last long with Sarrasine.
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