by Eugène Sue
“Perhaps, mademoiselle — for to certain characters nothing is so formidable as duty and obedience. Your character is one of those inclined to revolt—”
“I freely acknowledge it, aunt — and it will always be so, until duty and obedience come to me in a shape that I can respect and love.”
“Whether you respect and love my orders or not, madame,” said the princess, in a curt, harsh voice, “you will, from to-day, from this moment, learn to submit blindly and absolutely to my will. In one word, you will do nothing without my permission: it is necessary, I insist upon it, and so I am determined it shall be.”
Adrienne looked at her aunt for a second, and then burst into so free and sonorous a laugh, that it rang for quite a time through the vast apartment. D’Aigrigny and Baron Tripeaud started in indignation. The princess looked angrily at her niece. The doctor raised his eyes to heaven, and clasped his hands over his waistcoat with a sanctimonious sigh.
“Madame,” said Abbe d’Aigrigny, “such fits of laughter are highly unbecoming. Your aunt’s words are serious, and deserve a different reception.”
“Oh, sir!” said Adrienne, recovering herself, “it is not my fault if I laugh. How can I maintain my gravity, when I hear my aunt talking of blind submission to her orders? Is the swallow, accustomed to fly upwards and enjoy the sunshine, fledged to live with the mole in darkness?”
At this answer, D’Aigrigny affected to stare at the other members of this kind of family council with blank astonishment.
“A swallow? what does she mean?” asked the abbe of the baron making a sign, which the latter understood.
“I do not know,” answered Tripeaud, staring in his turn at the doctor. “She spoke too of a mole. It ’is quite unheard-of — incomprehensible.”
“And so, madame,” said the princess, appearing to share in the surprise of the others, “this is the reply that you make to me?”
“Certainly,” answered Adrienne, astonished herself that they should pretend not to understand the simile of which she had made use, accustomed as she was to speak in figurative language.
“Come, come, madame,” said Dr. Baleinier, smiling good-humoredly, “we must be indulgent. My dear Mdlle. Adrienne has naturally so uncommon and excitable a nature! She is really the most charming mad woman I know; I have told her so a hundred times, in my position of an old friend, which allows such freedom.”
“I can conceive that your attachment makes you indulgent — but it is not the less true, doctor,” said D’Aigrigny, as if reproaching him for taking the part of Mdlle. de Cardoville, “that such answers to serious questions are most extravagant.”
“The evil is, that mademoiselle does not seem to comprehend the serious nature of this conference,” said the princess, harshly. “She will perhaps understand it better when I have given her my orders.”
“Let us hear these orders, aunt,” replied Adrienne as, seated on the other side of the table, opposite to the princess, she leaned her small, dimpled chin in the hollow of her pretty hand, with an air of graceful mockery, charming to behold.
“From to-morrow forward,” resumed the princess, “you will quit the summer-house which you at present inhabit, you will discharge your women, and come and occupy two rooms in this house, to which there will be no access except through my apartment. You will never go out alone. You will accompany me to the services of the church. Your emancipation terminates, in consequence of your prodigality duly proven. I will take charge of all your expenses, even to the ordering of your clothes, so that you may be properly and modestly dressed. Until your majority (which will be indefinitely postponed, by means of the intervention of a family-council), you will have no money at your own disposal. Such is my resolution.”
“And certainly your resolution can only be applauded, madame,” said Baron Tripeaud; “we can but encourage you to show the greatest firmness, for such disorders must have an end.”
“It is more than time to put a stop to such scandal,” added the abbe.
“Eccentricity and exaltation of temperament — may excuse many things,” ventured to observe the smooth-tongued doctor.
“No doubt,” replied the princess dryly to Baleinier, who played his part to perfection; “but then, doctor, the requisite measures must be taken with such characters.”
Madame de Saint-Dizier had expressed herself in a firm and precise manner; she appeared convinced of the possibility of putting her threats into execution. M. Tripeaud and D’Aigrigny had just now given their full consent to the words of the princess. Adrienne began to perceive that something very serious was in contemplation, and her gayety was at once replaced by an air of bitter irony and offended independence.
She rose abruptly, and colored a little; her rosy nostrils dilated, her eyes flashed fire, and, as she raised her head, she gently shook the fine, wavy golden hair, with a movement of pride that was natural to her. After a moment’s silence, she said to her aunt in a cutting tone: “You have spoken of the past, madame; I also will speak a few words concerning it, since you force me to do so, though I may regret the necessity. I quitted your dwelling, because it was impossible for me to live longer in this atmosphere of dark hypocrisy and black treachery.”
“Madame,” said D’Aigrigny, “such words are as violent as they are unreasonable.”
“Since you interrupt me, sir,” said Adrienne, hastily, as she fixed her eyes on the abbe, “tell me what examples did I meet with in my aunt’s house?”
“Excellent, examples, madame.”
“Excellent, sir? Was it because I saw there, every day, her conversion keep pace with your own?”
“Madame, you forget yourself!” cried the princess, becoming pale with rage.
“Madame, I do not forget — I remember, like other people; that is all. I had no relation of whom I could ask an asylum. I wished to live alone. I wished to enjoy my revenues — because I chose rather to spend them myself, than to see them wasted by M. Tripeaud.”
“Madame,” cried the baron, “I cannot imagine how you can presume—”
“Sir!” said Adrienne, reducing him to silence by a gesture of overwhelming lordliness, “I speak of you — not to you. I wished to spend my income,” she continued, “according to my own tastes. I embellished the retreat that I had chosen. Instead of ugly, ill-taught servants, I selected girls, pretty and well brought up, though poor. Their education forbade their being subjected to any humiliating servitude, though I have endeavored to make their situation easy and agreeable. They do not serve me, but render me service — I pay them, but I am obliged to them — nice distinctions that your highness will not understand, I know. Instead of seeing them badly or ungracefully dressed, I have given them clothes that suit their charming faces well, because I like whatever is young and fair. Whether I dress myself one way or the other, concerns only my looking-glass. I go out alone, because I like to follow my fancy. I do not go to mass — but, if I had still a mother, I would explain to her my devotions, and she would kiss me none the less tenderly. It is true, that I have raised a pagan altar to youth and beauty, because I adore God in all that He has made fair and good, noble and grand — because, morn and evening, my heart repeats the fervent and sincere prayer: ‘Thanks, my Creator! thanks!’ — Your highness says that M. Baleinier has often found me in my solitude, a prey to a strange excitement: yes, it is true; for it is then that, escaping in thought from all that renders the present odious and painful to me, I find refuge in the future — it is then that magical horizons spread far before me — it is then that such splendid visions appear to me, as make me feel myself rapt in a sublime and heavenly ecstasy, as if I no longer appertained to earth!”
As Adrienne pronounced these last words with enthusiasm, her countenance appeared transfigured, so resplendent did it become. In that moment, she had lost sight of all that surrounded her.
“It is then,” she resumed, with spirit soaring higher and higher, “that I breathe a pure air, reviving and free — yes, free — above all,
free — and so salubrious, so grateful to the soul! — Yes, instead of seeing my sisters painfully submit to a selfish, humiliating, brutal dominion, which entails upon them the seductive vices of slavery, the graceful fraud, the enchanting perfidy, the caressing falsehood, the contemptuous resignation, the hateful obedience — I behold them, my noble sisters! worthy and sincere because they are free, faithful and devoted because they have liberty to choose — neither imperious not base, because they have no master to govern or to flatter — cherished and respected, because they can withdraw from a disloyal hand their hand, loyally bestowed. Oh, my sisters! my sisters! I feel it. These are not merely consoling visions — they are sacred hopes.”
Carried away, in spite of herself, by the excitement of her feelings, Adrienne paused for a moment, in order to return to earth; she did not perceive that the other actors in this scene were looking at each other with an air of delight.
“What she says there is excellent,” murmured the doctor in the princess’s ear, next to whom he was seated; “were she in league with us, she would not speak differently.”
“It is only by excessive harshness,” added D’Aigrigny, “that we shall bring her to the desired point.”
But it seemed as if the vexed emotion of Adrienne had been dissipated by the contact of the generous sentiments she had just uttered. Addressing Baleinier with a smile, she said: “I must own, doctor, that there is nothing more ridiculous, than to yield to the current of certain thoughts, in the presence of persons incapable of understanding them. This would give you a fine opportunity to make game of that exaltation of mind for which you sometimes reproach me. To let myself be carried away by transports at so serious a moment! — for, verily, the matter in hand seems to be serious. But you see, good M. Baleinier, when an idea comes into my head, I can no more help following it out, than I could refrain from running after butterflies when I was a little girl.”
“And heaven only knows whither these brilliant butterflies of all colors,” said M. Baleinier, smiling with an air of paternal indulgence, “that are passing through your brain, are likely to lead you. Oh, madcap, when will she be as reasonable as she is charming?”
“This very instant, my good doctor,” replied Adrienne. “I am about to cast off my reveries for realities, and speak plain and positive language, as you shall hear.”
Upon which, addressing her aunt, she continued: “You have imparted to me your resolution, madame; I will now tell you mine. Within a week, I shall quit the pavilion that I inhabit, for a house which I have arranged to my taste, where I shall live after my own fashion. I have neither father nor mother, and I owe no account of my actions to any but myself.”
“Upon my word, mademoiselle,” said the princess, shrugging her shoulders, “you talk nonsense. You forget that society has inalienable moral rights, which we are bound to enforce. And we shall not neglect them, depend upon it.”
“So madame, it is you, and M. d’Aigrigny, and M. Tripeaud, that represent the morality of society! This appears to me very fine. Is it because M. Tripeaud has considered (I must acknowledge it) my fortune as his own? Is it because—”
“Now, really, madame,” began Tripeaud.
“In good time, madame,” said Adrienne to her aunt, without noticing the baron, “as the occasion offers, I shall have to ask you for explanations with regard to certain interests, which have hitherto, I think, been concealed from me.”
These words of Adrienne made D’Aigrigny and the princess start, and then rapidly exchange a glance of uneasiness and anxiety. Adrienne did not seem to perceive it, but thus continued: “To have done with your demands, madame, here is my final resolve. I shall live where and how I please. I think that, if I were a man, no one would impose on me, at my age, the harsh and humiliating guardianship you have in view, for living as I have lived till now — honestly, freely, and generously, in the sight of all.”
“This idea is absurd! is madness!” cried the princess. “To wish to live thus alone, is to carry immorality and immodesty to their utmost limits.”
“If so, madame,” said Adrienne, “what opinion must you entertain of so many poor girls, orphans like myself, who live alone and free, as I wish to live? They have not received, as I have, a refined education, calculated to raise the soul, and purify the heart. They have not wealth, as I have, to protect them from the evil temptations of misery; and yet they live honestly and proudly in their distress.”
“Vice and virtue do not exist for such tag-rag vermin!” cried Baron Tripeaud, with an expression of anger and hideous disdain.
“Madame, you would turn away a lackey, that would venture to speak thus before you,” said Adrienne to her aunt, unable to conceal her disgust, “and yet you oblige me to listen to such speeches!”
The Marquis d’Aigrigny touched M. Tripeaud with his knee under the table, to remind him that he must not express himself in the princess’s parlors in the same manner as he would in the lobbies of the Exchange. To repair the baron’s coarseness, the abbe thus continued: “There is no comparison, mademoiselle, between people of the class you name, and a young lady of your rank.”
“For a Catholic priest, M. l’Abbe, that distinction is not very Christian,” replied Adrienne.
“I know the purport of my words, madame,” answered the abbe, dryly; “besides the independent life that you wish to lead, in opposition to all reason, may tend to very serious consequences for you. Your family may one day wish to see you married—”
“I will spare my family that trouble, sir, if I marry at all, I will choose for myself, which also appears to me reasonable enough. But, in truth, I am very little tempted by that heavy chain, which selfishness and brutality rivet for ever about our necks.”
“It is indecent, madame,” said the princess, “to speak so lightly of such an institution.”
“Before you, especially, madame, I beg pardon for having shocked your highness! You fear that my independent planner of living will frighten away all wooers; but that is another reason for persisting in my independence, for I detest wooers. I only hope that they may have the very worst opinion of me, and there is no better means of effecting that object, than to appear to live as they live themselves. I rely upon my whims, my follies, my sweet faults, to preserve me from the annoyance of any matrimonial hunting.”
“You will be quite satisfied on that head,” resumed Madame de Saint Dizier, “if unfortunately the report should gain credit, that you have carried the forgetfulness of all duty and decency, to such a height, as to return home at eight o’clock in the morning. So I am told is the case but I cannot bring myself to believe such an enormity.”
“You are wrong, madame, for it is quite true.”
“So you confess it?” cried the princess.
“I confess all that I do, madame. I came home this morning at eight o’clock.”
“You hear Gentlemen?” ejaculated the princess.
“Oh!” said M. d’Aigrigny, in a bass voice.
“Ah!” said the baron, in a treble key.
“Oh!” muttered the doctor, with a deep sigh.
On hearing these lamentable exclamations, Adrienne seemed about to speak, perhaps to justify herself; but her lip speedily assumed a curl of contempt, which showed that she disdained to stoop to any explanation.
“So it is true,” said the princess. “Oh, wretched girl, you had accustomed me to be astonished at nothing; but, nevertheless, I doubted the possibility of such conduct. It required your impudent and audacious reply to convince the of the fact.”
“Madame, lying has always appeared to be more impudent than to speak the truth.”
“And where had you been, madame? and for what?”
“Madame,” said Adrienne, interrupting her aunt, “I never speak false — but neither do I speak more than I choose; and then again, it were cowardice to defend myself from a revolting accusation. Let us say no more about it: your importunities on this head will be altogether vain. To resume: you wish to impose upon me a
harsh and humiliating restraint; I wish to quit the house I inhabit, to go and live where I please, at my own fancy. Which of us two will yield, remains to be seen. Now for another matter: this mansion belongs to me! As I am about to leave it, I am indifferent whether you continue to live here or not; but the ground floor is uninhabited. It contains, besides the reception-rooms, two complete sets of apartments; I have let them for some time.”
“Indeed!” said the princess, looking at D’Aigrigny with intense surprise. “And to whom,” she added ironically, “have you disposed of them?”
“To three members of my family.”
“What does all this mean?” said Mme. de Saint-Dizier, more and more astonished.
“It means, madame, that I wish to offer a generous hospitality to a young Indian prince, my kinsman on my mother’s side. He will arrive in two or three days, and I wish to have the rooms ready to receive him.”
“You hear, gentlemen?” said D’Aigrigny to the doctor and Tripeaud, with an affectation of profound stupor.
“It surpasses all one could imagine!” exclaimed the baron.
“Alas!” observed the doctor, benignantly, “the impulse is generous in itself — but the mad little head crops out?”
“Excellent!” said the princes. “I cannot prevent you madame, from announcing the most extravagant designs but it is presumable that you will not stop short in so fair a path. Is that all?”
“Not quite, your highness. I learned this morning, that two of my female relations, also on my mother’s side — poor children of fifteen — orphan daughters of Marshal Simon arrived yesterday from a long journey, and are now with the wife of the brave soldier who brought them to France from the depths of Siberia.”
At these words from Adrienne, D’Aigrigny and the princess could not help starting suddenly, and staring at each other with affright, so far were they from expecting that Mdlle. de Cardoville was informed of the coming of Marshal Simon’s daughters. This discovery was like a thunder-clap to them.
