– But Father Hudson is dead.
You believe so? Were you at his funeral?
– No.
You didn’t see him buried?
– No.
Then he is either dead or alive, as you please. It is entirely up to me whether or not I stop this gig and bring out of it along with the Prior and his travelling companion a series of events, the result of which would be that you would know neither Jacques’ loves nor those of his master. But I disdain all these expedients. I can see that with only a little bit of imagination and style, nothing is easier to rattle off than a novel. But let us stick to the truth, and while we are waiting for Jacques’ sore throat to go away, let us allow his master to speak.
MASTER: One morning the Chevalier seemed to me to be extremely sad. It was the day after we had spent a day in the country, that is, the Chevalier, his lady friend, or my lady friend, or perhaps his and mine, her father, her mother, her aunts, her cousins and me. He asked me if I had committed any indiscretion which might have alerted her parents to my passion. He informed me that her father and mother, alarmed by my regular visits, had questioned their daughter, that if I had honest intentions nothing was more simple than admitting them, that they would be honoured to receive me on those conditions, but if I did not explain myself clearly within a fortnight they begged me to stop these visits, which were being talked about and which were harming their daughter by keeping away from her advantageous parties who might present themselves were it not for fear of refusal.
JACQUES: Well then, Master, didn’t Jacques smell it?
MASTER: The Chevalier added: ‘Within a fortnight! That is quite a short time. You are in love and you are loved. In a fortnight, what are you going to do?’
I told the Chevalier straight away that I would give up.
‘You’re giving up! Don’t you love her, then?’
‘I love her a lot, but I have parents, a name, a position in life, ambitions, and I will never decide to bury all those advantages in the shop of a little bourgeoise.’
‘Shall I tell them that?’
‘If you wish. But, Chevalier, the sudden scrupulous delicacy of these people surprises me. They have allowed their daughter to accept my presents, they have left me alone with her a score of times, she goes to balls, gatherings, shows, walks alone in the fields and in the town with the first fellow who has a decent carriage and team to put at her disposal. They sleep soundly while people converse or play music at her house. You frequent the house whenever you please and, between you and me, Chevalier, when you are allowed into a house, anyone else can be brought there. Their daughter has a reputation. I do not believe and I do not deny all the things that people say about her, but you must admit that these parents might have taken it into their heads earlier to be punctilious about their child’s honour. Do you want me to speak the truth? They have taken me for some kind of simpleton whom they have calculated they could lead by the nose to the feet of the parish priest. They’ve made a mistake. I find Mlle Agathe charming and I am infatuated with her, which is obvious, I believe, from the frightful expense I have incurred for her. I’m not saying that I won’t continue in the same vein, but I must be certain, in that event, that I’ll find her somewhat less unyielding in the future.
‘It is not my intention to lose at her knees time, money and entreaties which I could put to much better use elsewhere. You will repeat these last words to Mlle Agathe, and everything which preceded to her parents. Our relationship must end, or I must be accepted on a new footing and Mlle Agathe treat me better than she has done up to now. When you introduced me to her house, you must admit, Chevalier, that you led me to anticipate a more responsive attitude than I’ve met with so far.’
‘Heavens, I was a little deceived myself at first. Who the devil would ever have imagined that with her free and easy airs and manner the young scatterbrain would be a little dragon of virtue?’
JACQUES: What the devil! Monsieur, that’s strong stuff. So you have been brave at least once in your life?
MASTER: There are days like that. I still had the incident of the usurers on my mind, my retreat in sanctuary because of the Bridoie woman, and more than all the rest the severity of Mlle Agathe. I was a little tired of being strung along.
JACQUES: And consequent on this courageous speech which you made to your friend the Chevalier de Saint-Ouin, what did you do then?
MASTER: I kept my word. I stopped my visits.
JACQUES: Bravo! Bravo! Mio caro maestro!
MASTER: A fortnight went by during which time I heard nothing except through the Chevalier who kept me faithfully informed of the effects of my absence on the family and who encouraged me to remain steadfast.
He said to me: ‘They are beginning to be surprised and starting to look at each other and talk. They are asking themselves what reasons you might have for being displeased with them. The young girl is trying to be dignified and she is affecting an air of indifference which cannot conceal her pique, saying: “If we no longer see this gentleman it is apparently because he no longer wishes us to see him. Fine. That’s his business.” Then she does a pirouette, starts humming, goes over to the window and comes back again. But her eyes are red and everyone sees that she’s been crying.’
‘She’s been crying!’
‘Then she sits down, takes up her needlework, tries to carry on with it but can’t. They make conversation, she remains quiet. They try to cheer her up, she goes into a temper. They suggest a game, a walk, the theatre, she wants to do something else and then the next moment she doesn’t… Now what? You’re getting upset! I won’t tell you anything more.’
‘But, Chevalier, do you think then that if I reappeared…’
‘I think that you would be a fool. You must hold fast, you must have courage. If you come back without being called, you are lost. You’ve got to teach that lot some manners.’
‘But what if I am not called back?’
‘You’ll be called back.’
‘What if there’s a long delay?’
‘You’ll be called back soon. Damn it, a man like you is not easily replaced. If you come back of your own accord, you’ll get the cold shoulder, you’ll be made to pay for your outburst and you’ll be forced to accept whatever terms are imposed on you. You would have to submit to them, you would have to bend the knee. Do you want to be master or slave, and the most ill-treated slave at that? Choose. To tell the truth, your conduct has been a little cavalier and hardly seems the behaviour of a man who is head over heels in love. But what is done is done and you must make certain that you secure any possible advantage.
‘She’s been crying!’
‘Well! So, she’s been crying. It’s better for her to cry than you.’
‘But what if I am not called back?’
‘You will be called back, I tell you. When I arrive I do not speak about you any more, as if you no longer existed. They turn the conversation and I allow them to turn it. Eventually they ask me if I’ve seen you. My reply is indifferent, sometimes yes, sometimes no. Then they talk about something else but do not take long to come back to your disappearance. The first word comes from the father or the mother or the aunt or Agathe herself: “After all the respect we showed for him!…” “The interest which we all took in that business he was recently involved in!…” “The friendship my niece showed for him!…” “The politeness I lavished on him!…” “All those protestations of affection which he made to us!…” “Who would ever trust men after that!…” “Who would ever open their house to visitors or put their trust in friends after a thing like that?” ’
‘What about Agathe?’
‘Full of dismay, I assure you, all of them.’
‘And Agathe?’
‘Agathe took me aside and asked me: “Chevalier, do you understand anything of your friend’s behaviour? You have assured me so many times that he loved me. You believed him without doubt, and why would you not have believed him – I believed him too…” Then she stopped
, her voice changed and tears came into her eyes… Well! Now you’re doing the same! I won’t tell you any more, that’s for sure. I can see what you want, but there’s absolutely nothing doing. Since you were stupid enough to stay away without rhyme or reason I do not want you to compound it all by going back and throwing yourself on them. You must turn this incident to your advantage if you want to make progress with Agathe. She must be made to see that she does not hold you so securely that she might not lose you unless she makes more effort to keep you. After all that you have done, and still to be only on hand-kissing terms! Come now, Chevalier, put your hand on your heart, we are friends and you can, without being indiscreet, reveal yourself to me. Is it true that she’s never granted you anything?’
‘No.’
‘You’re lying, you’re being discreet.’
‘I would be, perhaps, if I had reason to, but I swear to you that I am not fortunate enough to be in such a position.’
‘That is inconceivable, because, after all, you’re not clumsy. What! Has she never had even the least little moment of weakness?’
‘No.’
‘Then it must have come without your noticing and you missed it. I fear that you may have been a little simple. Honest, delicate, tender people like you are prone to that.’
‘But, what about you, Chevalier? Where do you stand?’
‘Nowhere.’
‘Have you never had any pretensions?’
‘Quite the contrary, I assure you. They even lasted a long time, but you came, you saw, and you conquered. I noticed that she looked at you a lot and at me hardly at all, and took it as read. We have remained good friends and she confides her little thoughts in me and sometimes follows my advice, but for want of anything better I have accepted the role of subaltern to which you have reduced me.’
JACQUES: Monsieur, two points. The first is that I have never been able to tell my story without some devil or other interrupting me and yet you tell your story straight off. That’s the way life goes. One person runs through life’s thorns without pricking himself while another, no matter how hard he looks where he puts his feet, finds thorns even on the best path and arrives at his destination skinned alive.
MASTER: Can you have forgotten your philosophy? What about the great scroll and the writing up above?
JACQUES: The other point is that I’m still convinced that your Chevalier de Saint-Ouin is a great rogue, and now that he has shared your money with the usurers Le Brun, Merval, Mathieu de Fourgeot or Fourgeot de Mathieu and the Bridoie woman he is trying to lumber you with his mistress, all square and above board, of course, and in front of a notary and a priest, so that he can share your wife with you… Ahi! My throat!…
MASTER: Do you know what you are doing there? It is something very common and very impertinent.
JACQUES: I am certainly capable of it.
MASTER: You complain about being interrupted and yet you interrupt me.
JACQUES: That is the effect your bad example has had on me. Mothers want to have a good time and want their daughters to be well behaved, fathers want to be spendthrift and have thrifty sons, masters want…
MASTER: To interrupt their valets, interrupt as much as they want and not be interrupted.
Reader, are you not afraid of seeing here a repetition of the scene in the inn where one of them was shouting: ‘Go downstairs!’, and the other: ‘I will not go downstairs!’?
Why should I not cause you to hear: ‘I will interrupt!’ ‘You will not interrupt!’
What is certain though is that it only needs me to provoke Jacques or his master for the quarrel to be started and once that’s happened who knows how it might end?
‘Monsieur, I am not interrupting you, but I am conversing with you since you have given me permission.’
MASTER: All right, but that’s not all.
JACQUES: What other impropriety can I have committed?
MASTER: You are anticipating the story-teller and taking away from him the pleasure he has promised himself by surprising you, so that, since you have guessed by a very misplaced and ostentatious show of wisdom what he was going to tell you, there is nothing left for him other than to shut up, so I am shutting up.
JACQUES: Ah! Master!
MASTER: God damn all clever men!
JACQUES: I agree. But you are not going to be so cruel…
MASTER: Admit at least that you would deserve it.
JACQUES: All right. But all the same, you are going to look at your watch to see what time it is, you will take your pinch of snuff, your bad temper will go away, and you will carry on with your story.
MASTER: The rascal can make me do whatever he wants… A few days after this conversation with the Chevalier, he came back to my house. He seemed triumphant.
‘Well, my friend! Next time will you believe in my predictions? I told you so, we are the stronger and here is a letter from the little lady, yes, a letter, a letter from her.’
This letter was very touching, full of reproaches, pleadings et cetera. And so there I was, reinstated in their house.
Reader, you’ve stopped reading! What’s wrong? Ah! I think I know. You want to see the letter. Madame Riccoboni would not have failed to show it to you.69 And as for the letter which Mme de La Pommeraye dictated to her two saintly ladies, I am sure you regretted that. Although that letter was a lot more difficult to write than Agathe’s, and although I don’t have unlimited confidence in my talents, I believe I could have managed it, but it wouldn’t have been original. It would have been like one of those sublime harangues of Livy in his ‘History of Rome’, or of Cardinal Bentivoglio in his ‘Wars of Flanders’.70 One reads them with pleasure but they destroy the illusion. A historian who imputes to his characters speeches they have not made can also supply them with actions they have not performed. I beg you, therefore, to do without these two letters, and carry on reading.
MASTER: They asked me the reason for my absence. I told them something or other. They accepted what I said and everything carried on as before.
JACQUES: That is to say that you continued your expenditure and your amours did not progress any further.
MASTER: The Chevalier asked me for news and seemed to become impatient.
JACQUES: And he actually really was becoming impatient, perhaps…
MASTER: Why so?
JACQUES: Why? Because he…
MASTER: Well, finish.
JACQUES: I’ll be careful not to. That must be left to the story-teller.
MASTER: I am pleased that you are profiting from my lessons… One day the Chevalier suggested to me that we should go for a walk alone together. We went to spend the day in the country. We left early. We lunched at an inn and we had supper there. The wine was excellent and we drank a lot of it, chatting about government, religion and love affairs. Never had the Chevalier shown me so much trust, so much friendship. He told me the story of his whole life with the most incredible frankness, without hiding from me either the good or the bad. He drank. He embraced me. He cried with tenderness. I drank. I embraced him. And I cried in my turn. In all his past conduct there was only one single action with which he reproached himself, the remorse for which he would carry to his grave.
‘Chevalier, confess your sin to your friend since that will give you comfort. Well, what was it then? Some peccadillo whose importance you are exaggerating through your own scrupulousness?’
‘No, no,’ cried the Chevalier, burying his head in his hands and hiding his face in shame. ‘It is a foul deed. An unpardonable foul deed. Would you believe it that I, the Chevalier de Saint-Ouin, once deceived, yes, deceived, his friend?’
‘And how did that happen?’
‘Alas! Both of us used to frequent the same house, as you and I do. There was a young girl there, like Mlle Agathe. He was in love with her, but I was the one she loved. He ruined himself in expense for her, and it was I who enjoyed her favours. I have never had the courage to admit it to him but if we found ourselves together again I wou
ld tell him everything. This frightful secret which I carry at the bottom of my heart overwhelms me. It is a burden from which I absolutely must deliver myself.’
‘Chevalier, you would do well to do so.’
‘Do you advise me to do so?’
‘Of course I advise you to.’
‘And how do you think my friend would take it?’
‘If he is your friend, if he is fair, he will find your forgiveness in his own heart. He will be touched by your honesty and your repentance. He will throw his arms around your neck. He would do what I would do if I were in his place.’
‘Do you believe so?’
‘I am sure of it.’
‘And is that what you would do?’
‘I have no doubt of it.’
At that moment the Chevalier got up and came towards me, tears in his eyes, arms open: ‘My friend, embrace me, then.’
‘What! Chevalier,’ I said, ‘is it you? Is it me? And that hussy Agathe?’
‘Yes, my friend. I release you from your promise. You are free to do with me as you wish. If you think, as I do, that my offence is inexcusable, do not excuse me. Get up from here, leave me and never see me again without scorning me, and abandon me to my sorrow and my shame. Ah! My friend, if only you knew how much power the little minx had over my heart. I was born honest. Imagine how much I have had to suffer in the unworthy role to which I have lowered myself. How many times have I turned my eyes away from her to look at you, inwardly groaning at my betrayal and hers. It is extraordinary that you never noticed…’
Jacques the Fatalist: And His Master Page 27
