The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him.
Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.
She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?
The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.
The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.
For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.
With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.
The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.
This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)
The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons14 were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.
It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.
Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.
So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.
Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.
As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?
And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.
The day after the
wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.
Starlight
Translated by Terence Cave
HENRIETTE-JULIE DE MURAT (Attributed)
ONCE UPON A time, there lived a king and queen who ruled over a fine kingdom. Their subjects were virtuous and exceptionally valiant – luckily for them, as they were constantly at war with a king who, with some semblance of plausibility, claimed tribute from them. This monarch was called King Warmonger, a name that suited him to perfection. He would arrive each year with his army and ask King Peacemaker to honour certain treaties he’d agreed to long ago in hard times. Peacemaker always refused to give in, partly because the terms of the treaties were draconian, partly because he’d never committed himself to them in the first place.
Peacemaker had a son, handsome, young, clever and valiant: in short, he would have been perfect if he had never known love. But hardly had he left childhood behind when he fell so passionately in love that he lost all interest in his reputation as a warrior prince. Indifferent to the rape of his father’s kingdom and the sufferings of its peoples, he had thoughts only for his mistress.
Peacemaker was understandably annoyed by the prince’s behaviour. His capital itself was threatened; his people seemed likely to desert him in despair and recognise King Warmonger in order to save their lives and property, which their legitimate sovereign had failed to defend; and so he decided to have a serious talk with his son.
Izmir (this was the young prince’s name) was summoned to the king’s levee. My dear son, said the worthy old man, you’ve seen how bravely my subjects defended your heritage when you weren’t old enough to share their perils in battle. They hoped that you would not belie the blood you carry in your veins, and that one day you might surpass the glory of your ancestors. Yet, ever since you’ve been capable of helping them to avenge the wrongs inflicted on us, you have scorned to take command of my armies. How can this be? The eyes of the whole world are upon you; posterity will hold you responsible for your actions; what will they say of your honour? I have grown old in my labours, I have preserved the glory of this empire; now that I’m weak with age and almost blind, I can no longer help my poor subjects to repel the violent attacks of an aggressor who makes war against us unjustly. I had counted on the strength of your arm: would you betray my hope, dear son? Would you allow me to go to my grave knowing that the crown that is yours by right has been snatched from you? Be worthy of me and of the illustrious blood that flows in your veins. Fly to the defence of those faithful subjects who must soon accept the laws you give them.
Father, the prince calmly replied, it is not because I lack courage that I appear indifferent to the peril that threatens your kingdom. Nor would it be the hope of royal power which would persuade me to take its defence in hand: I see only pain and grief attend the moment when the crown passes to me by legitimate succession. None of these things can move my heart. But you make me unhappy by refusing me permission to marry my beautiful Starlight. That has always been my sole ambition. My mother calls her a vile slave because no one knows who her parents are. My prayers have not been able to move the queen, nor to wash out that odious name, although I begged you not to humiliate Starlight in such a way. Only let me have her, and I’ll be a hero.
What! replied the old king with feeling, you would rather have a slave girl than save your country? What of the respect you owe your father? What of the respect you owe yourself? Would you stain your life with dishonour by entering into such a shameful alliance? When the daughters of the mightiest kings wait upon your choice, you choose a slave, a girl with no name, no family, captured in a town terrorised by our armed forces and deserted by its people; a girl saved only because my general is a compassionate man, and taken in by your mother the queen out of pity? You want me, unworthy son, to give you to this wretched creature? You want her to be my daughter? You expect me to cover myself with ignominy and place a slave upon my throne just to satisfy your outrageous desires? Don’t take it for granted, and, if you still have any feelings left, cringe with shame at the very thought of such a craven proposition.
Father, said Izmir in a state of some agitation, the slave you speak of so scornfully is nobler in her chains than the most royal of princesses. Her virtue, her courage, the delicacy of her feelings, make her worthy of the loftiest throne in the world. Why should I marry a princess who is intoxicated with her high rank, capricious, and wholly uninterested in me personally? It’s true that Starlight has no known family or high connections; but aren’t you a mighty enough king to make all this up to her? I don’t need any vain titles; love alone can make me happy. Beauty and good character are the bonds that first bound me to Starlight; her virtue has made them immortal, and I’d rather give up all claim to the throne than renounce…
Enough, my son, interrupted King Peacemaker; my wishes will be made known to you tomorrow. The prince took leave of his royal father respectfully and withdrew, alarmed at what the consequences of this conversation might be.
The king went straight to the queen and told her in the bitterest tones what had just taken place between his son and himself. The queen, who was naturally arrogant and ill-tempered, easily persuaded her husband to allow her to do as she wished, and assured him that he would soon be avenged. The king was so angry with his son that he gave the queen unlimited power to reduce the prince to obedience, without even inquiring what means she intended to use.
Starlight was the first to feel the queen’s fury. She was arrested, and cruel soldiers clapped her in irons. Why do you put these chains on me? she asked them gently and sweetly: her voice was capable of moving the very rocks to pity. If the king or the queen has commanded you to do it, only tell me and I shall obey; but people are mistaken if they think that by treating me so harshly they can force me to give up the delectable Izmir. I can never marry him, but I shall always love him. Without deigning to reply, these barbaric soldiers dragged her violently away and took her to a dungeon in an old tower; it was a place where it was customary to lock up people accused of the most heinous crimes. They threw her into this frightful prison, took care to bolt the doors, and secretly withdrew.
Starlight – beautiful, unhappy Starlight – recognised that this was the queen’s work. Such treatment could not shake her spirit, but she was heartbroken that she could no longer see the man for whom she would cheerfully have sacrificed her life. Thinking about him gave her some relief, and she displayed no sign of anger towards her tormentors. She lay on the bare earth, bound hand and foot, and remained in this state until evening. Then an old slave woman brought her some food and untied her without saying a word. Starlight thanked her affectionately, making no complaints of any kind, and the slave went away. A small hard pallet was the only piece of furniture Starlight had to rest that delicate body, all bruised by the irons they had put on her. She threw herself down, weeping hot tears as she remembered her tender lover, and spent the cruellest of nights; but she was suffering for her beloved’s sake, and that thought made any hardship seem welcome.
Food was brought at the usual times; she touched none of it. A beautiful cat, as white as snow, came leaping over the rooftops every evening, slipped through the window into that miserable dungeon, and ate Starlight’s supper. At night she lay down beside the lovely slave girl and kept her warm: this was no mean service as the weather was terribly cold just then. The hours, which had seemed mere instants when she was with Izmir, now became long years.
Meanwhile, a rumour went round that Starlight was lost. Everyone knew about the prince’s love for the charming slave girl and the repugnance the king and queen felt towards her, so it was easy to believe that Starlight had either run away or been killed by the queen. No one dared say anything about it to the prince, and he did not eve
n suspect what had happened: since his conversation with the king, he had avoided his mother, knowing what a violent character she had. He had always seen Starlight in his mother’s company: she was so well behaved that she would not have received him anywhere else; but he preferred to forgo the pleasure of seeing her for a few days rather than expose that charming girl to the anger the queen must be feeling towards him. He was also afraid that Starlight might herself use the power she had over his heart to force him to submit to his father’s wishes. He would have suffered death gladly to save her from the evil designs of the queen. As it was impossible for him to remain ignorant of the disappearance of his dear Starlight for long, the prince’s most intimate friend finally risked announcing to him this unfortunate piece of news.
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