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letters of two brides-第13章

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love; and love would become my sole occupation; my life; yet in the
three months during which I have come and gone; eager and curious;
nothing has appealed to me in the bright; covetous; keen eyes around
me。 No voice has thrilled me; no glance has made the world seem
brighter。

Music alone has filled my soul; music alone has at all taken the place
of our friendship。 Sometimes; at night; I will linger for an hour by
my window; gazing into the garden; summoning the future; with all it
brings; out of the mystery which shrouds it。 There are days too when;
having started for a drive; I get out and walk in the Champs…Elysees;
and picture to myself that the man who is to waken my slumbering soul
is at hand; that he will follow and look at me。 Then I meet only
mountebanks; vendors of gingerbread; jugglers; passers…by hurrying to
their business; or lovers who try to escape notice。 These I am tempted
to stop; asking them; 〃You who are happy; tell me what is love。〃

But the impulse is repressed; and I return to my carriage; swearing to
die an old maid。 Love is undoubtedly an incarnation; and how many
conditions are needful before it can take place! We are not certain of
never quarreling with ourselves; how much less so when there are two?
This is a problem which God alone can solve。

I begin to think that I shall return to the convent。 If I remain in
society; I shall do things which will look like follies; for I cannot
possibly reconcile myself to what I see。 I am perpetually wounded
either in my sense of delicacy; my inner principles; or my secret
thoughts。

Ah! my mother is the happiest of women; adored as she is by Canalis;
her great little man。 My love; do you know I am seized sometimes with
a horrible craving to know what goes on between my mother and that
young man? Griffith tells me she has gone through all these moods; she
has longed to fly at women; whose happiness was written in their face;
she has blackened their character; torn them to pieces。 According to
her; virtue consists in burying all these savage instincts in one's
innermost heart。 But what then of the heart? It becomes the sink of
all that is worst in us。

It is very humiliating that no adorer has yet turned up for me。 I am a
marriageable girl; but I have brothers; a family; relations; who are
sensitive on the point of honor。 Ah! if that is what keeps men back;
they are poltroons。

The part of Chimene in the /Cid/ and that of the Cid delight me。 What
a marvelous play! Well; good…bye。



VIII

THE SAME TO THE SAME
January。

Our master is a poor refugee; forced to keep in hiding on account of
the part he played in the revolution which the Duc d'Angouleme has
just quelleda triumph to which we owe some splendid fetes。 Though a
Liberal; and doubtless a man of the people; he has awakened my
interest: I fancy that he must have been condemned to death。 I make
him talk for the purpose of getting at his secret; but he is of a
truly Castilian taciturnity; proud as though he were Gonsalvo di
Cordova; and nevertheless angelic in his patience and gentleness。 His
pride is not irritable like Miss Griffith's; it belongs to his inner
nature; he forces us to civility because his own manners are so
perfect; and holds us at a distance by the respect he shows us。 My
father declares that there is a great deal of the nobleman in Senor
Henarez; whom; among ourselves; he calls in fun Don Henarez。

A few days ago I took the liberty of addressing him thus。 He raised
his eyes; which are generally bent on the ground; and flashed a look
from them that quite abashed me; my dear; he certainly has the most
beautiful eyes imaginable。 I asked him if I had offended him in any
way; and he said to me in his grand; rolling Spanish:

〃I am here only to teach you Spanish。〃

I blushed and felt quite snubbed。 I was on the point of making some
pert answer; when I remembered what our dear mother in God used to say
to us; and I replied instead:

〃It would be a kindness to tell me if you have anything to complain
of。〃

A tremor passed through him; the blood rose in his olive cheeks; he
replied in a voice of some emotion:

〃Religion must have taught you; better than I can; to respect the
unhappy。 Had I been a /don/ in Spain; and lost everything in the
triumph of Ferdinand VII。; your witticism would be unkind; but if I am
only a poor teacher of languages; is it not a heartless satire?
Neither is worthy of a young lady of rank。〃

I took his hand; saying:

〃In the name of religion also; I beg you to pardon me。〃

He bowed; opened my /Don Quixote/; and sat down。

This little incident disturbed me more than the harvest of
compliments; gazing and pretty speeches on my most successful evening。
During the lesson I watched him attentively; which I could do the more
safely; as he never looks at me。

As the result of my observations; I made out that the tutor; whom we
took to be forty; is a young man; some years under thirty。 My
governess; to whom I had handed him over; remarked on the beauty of
his black hair and of his pearly teeth。 As to his eyes; they are
velvet and fire; but he is plain and insignificant。 Though the
Spaniards have been described as not a cleanly people; this man is
most carefully got up; and his hands are whiter than his face。 He
stoops a little; and has an extremely large; oddly…shaped head。 His
ugliness; which; however; has a dash of piquancy; is aggravated by
smallpox marks; which seam his face。 His forehead is very prominent;
and the shaggy eyebrows meet; giving a repellent air of harshness。
There is a frowning; plaintive look on his face; reminding one of a
sickly child; which owes its life to superhuman care; as Sister Marthe
did。 As my father observed; his features are a shrunken reproduction
of those of Cardinal Ximenes。 The natural dignity of our tutor's
manners seems to disconcert the dear Duke; who doesn't like him; and
is never at ease with him; he can't bear to come in contact with
superiority of any kind。

As soon as my father knows enough Spanish; we start for Madrid。 When
Henarez returned; two days after the reproof he had given me; I
remarked by way of showing my gratitude:

〃I have no doubt that you left Spain in consequence of political
events。 If my father is sent there; as seems to be expected; we shall
be in a position to help you; and might be able to obtain your pardon;
in case you are under sentence。〃

〃It is impossible for any one to help me;〃 he replied。

〃But;〃 I said; 〃is that because you refuse to accept any help; or
because the thing itself is impossible?〃

〃Both;〃 he said; with a bow; and in a tone which forbade continuing
the subject。

My father's blood chafed in my veins。 I was offended by this haughty
demeanor; and promptly dropped Senor Henarez。

All the same; my dear; there is something fine in this rejection of
any aid。 〃He would not accept even our friendship;〃 I reflected;
whilst conjugating a verb。 Suddenly I stopped short and told him what
was in my mind; but in Spanish。 Henarez replied very politely that
equality of sentiment was necessary between friends; which did not
exist in this case; and therefore it was useless to c
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