第27章
- The Duchesse de Langeais
- Honore De Balzac
- 928字
- 2016-03-09 11:26:05
When Mme de Langeais had played with religion sufficiently to suit her own purposes, she played with it again for Armand's benefit.She wanted to bring him back to a Christian frame of mind; she brought out her edition of Le Genie du Christianisme, adapted for the use of military men.Montriveau chafed; his yoke was heavy.Oh! at that, possessed by the spirit of contradiction, she dinned religion into his ears, to see whether God might not rid her of this suitor, for the man's persistence was beginning to frighten her.And in any case she was glad to prolong any quarrel, if it bade fair to keep the dispute on moral grounds for an indefinite period; the material struggle which followed it was more dangerous.
But if the time of her opposition on the ground of the marriage law might be said to be the epoque civile of this sentimental warfare, the ensuing phase which might be taken to constitute the epoque religieuse had also its crisis and consequent decline of severity.
Armand happening to come in very early one evening, found M.
l'Abbe Gondrand, the Duchess's spiritual director, established in an armchair by the fireside, looking as a spiritual director might be expected to look while digesting his dinner and the charming sins of his penitent.In the ecclesiastic's bearing there was a stateliness befitting a dignitary of the Church; and the episcopal violet hue already appeared in his dress.At sight of his fresh, well-preserved complexion, smooth forehead, and ascetic's mouth, Montriveau's countenance grew uncommonly dark;he said not a word under the malicious scrutiny of the other's gaze, and greeted neither the lady nor the priest.The lover apart, Montriveau was not wanting in tact; so a few glances exchanged with the bishop-designate told him that here was the real forger of the Duchess's armoury of scruples.
That an ambitious abbe should control the happiness of a man of Montriveau's temper, and by underhand ways! The thought burst in a furious tide over his face, clenched his fists, and set him chafing and pacing to and fro; but when he came back to his place intending to make a scene, a single look from the Duchess was enough.He was quiet.
Any other woman would have been put out by her lover's gloomy silence; it was quite otherwise with Mme de Langeais.She continued her conversation with M.de Gondrand on the necessity of re-establishing the Church in its ancient splendour.And she talked brilliantly.
The Church, she maintained, ought to be a temporal as well as a spiritual power, stating her case better than the Abbe had done, and regretting that the Chamber of Peers, unlike the English House of Lords, had no bench of bishops.Nevertheless, the Abbe rose, yielded his place to the General, and took his leave, knowing that in Lent he could play a return game.As for the Duchess, Montriveau's behaviour had excited her curiosity to such a pitch that she scarcely rose to return her director's low bow.
"What is the matter with you, my friend?""Why, I cannot stomach that Abbe of yours.""Why did you not take a book?" she asked, careless whether the Abbe, then closing the door, heard her or no.
The General paused, for the gesture which accompanied the Duchess's speech further increased the exceeding insolence of her words.
"My dear Antoinette, thank you for giving love precedence of the Church; but, for pity's sake, allow me to ask one question.""Oh! you are questioning me! I am quite willing.You are my friend, are you not? I certainly can open the bottom of my heart to you; you will see only one image there.""Do you talk about our love to that man?""He is my confessor."
"Does he know that I love you?"
"M.de Montriveau, you cannot claim, I think, to penetrate the secrets of the confessional?""Does that man know all about our quarrels and my love for you?""That man, monsieur; say God!"
"God again! _I_ ought to be alone in your heart.But leave God alone where He is, for the love of God and me.Madame, you SHALLNOT go to confession again, or----"
"Or?" she repeated sweetly.
"Or I will never come back here."
"Then go, Armand.Good-bye, good-bye forever."She rose and went to her boudoir without so much as a glance at Armand, as he stood with his hand on the back of a chair.How long he stood there motionless he himself never knew.The soul within has the mysterious power of expanding as of contracting space.
He opened the door of the boudoir.It was dark within.A faint voice was raised to say sharply--"I did not ring.What made you come in without orders? Go away, Suzette.""Then you are ill," exclaimed Montriveau.
"Stand up, monsieur, and go out of the room for a minute at any rate," she said, ringing the bell.
"Mme la Duchesse rang for lights?" said the footman, coming in with the candles.When the lovers were alone together, Mme de Langeais still lay on her couch; she was just as silent and motionless as if Montriveau had not been there.
"Dear, I was wrong," he began, a note of pain and a sublime kindness in his voice."Indeed, I would not have you without religion----""It is fortunate that you can recognise the necessity of a conscience," she said in a hard voice, without looking at him.
"I thank you in God's name."