La dame aux camélias (Novel). English

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter 12

  At five o'clock in the morning, as the light began to appear through thecurtains, Marguerite said to me: "Forgive me if I send you away; but Imust. The duke comes every morning; they will tell him, when he comes,that I am asleep, and perhaps he will wait until I wake."

  I took Marguerite's head in my hands; her loosened hair streamed abouther; I gave her a last kiss, saying: "When shall I see you again?"

  "Listen," she said; "take the little gilt key on the mantelpiece, openthat door; bring me back the key and go. In the course of the dayyou shall have a letter, and my orders, for you know you are to obeyblindly."

  "Yes; but if I should already ask for something?"

  "What?"

  "Let me have that key."

  "What you ask is a thing I have never done for anyone."

  "Well, do it for me, for I swear to you that I don't love you as theothers have loved you."

  "Well, keep it; but it only depends on me to make it useless to you,after all."

  "How?"

  "There are bolts on the door."

  "Wretch!"

  "I will have them taken off."

  "You love, then, a little?"

  "I don't know how it is, but it seems to me as if I do! Now, go; I can'tkeep my eyes open."

  I held her in my arms for a few seconds and then went.

  The streets were empty, the great city was still asleep, a sweetfreshness circulated in the streets that a few hours later would befilled with the noise of men. It seemed to me as if this sleepingcity belonged to me; I searched my memory for the names of those whosehappiness I had once envied; and I could not recall one without findingmyself the happier.

  To be loved by a pure young girl, to be the first to reveal to her thestrange mystery of love, is indeed a great happiness, but it is thesimplest thing in the world. To take captive a heart which has had noexperience of attack, is to enter an unfortified and ungarrisoned city.Education, family feeling, the sense of duty, the family, are strongsentinels, but there are no sentinels so vigilant as not to be deceivedby a girl of sixteen to whom nature, by the voice of the man she loves,gives the first counsels of love, all the more ardent because they seemso pure.

  The more a girl believes in goodness, the more easily will she give way,if not to her lover, at least to love, for being without mistrust sheis without force, and to win her love is a triumph that can be gainedby any young man of five-and-twenty. See how young girls are watchedand guarded! The walls of convents are not high enough, mothers haveno locks strong enough, religion has no duties constant enough, to shutthese charming birds in their cages, cages not even strewn with flowers.Then how surely must they desire the world which is hidden from them,how surely must they find it tempting, how surely must they listen tothe first voice which comes to tell its secrets through their bars, andbless the hand which is the first to raise a corner of the mysteriousveil!

  But to be really loved by a courtesan: that is a victory of infinitelygreater difficulty. With them the body has worn out the soul, the senseshave burned up the heart, dissipation has blunted the feelings. Theyhave long known the words that we say to them, the means we use; theyhave sold the love that they inspire. They love by profession, and notby instinct. They are guarded better by their calculations than a virginby her mother and her convent; and they have invented the word capricefor that unbartered love which they allow themselves from time to time,for a rest, for an excuse, for a consolation, like usurers, who cheata thousand, and think they have bought their own redemption by oncelending a sovereign to a poor devil who is dying of hunger withoutasking for interest or a receipt.

  Then, when God allows love to a courtesan, that love, which at firstseems like a pardon, becomes for her almost without penitence. When acreature who has all her past to reproach herself with is taken all atonce by a profound, sincere, irresistible love, of which she had neverfelt herself capable; when she has confessed her love, how absolutelythe man whom she loves dominates her! How strong he feels with his cruelright to say: You do no more for love than you have done for money.They know not what proof to give. A child, says the fable, havingoften amused himself by crying "Help! a wolf!" in order to disturb thelabourers in the field, was one day devoured by a Wolf, because thosewhom he had so often deceived no longer believed in his cries for help.It is the same with these unhappy women when they love seriously. Theyhave lied so often that no one will believe them, and in the midst oftheir remorse they are devoured by their love.

  Hence those great devotions, those austere retreats from the world, ofwhich some of them have given an example.

  But when the man who inspires this redeeming love is great enough insoul to receive it without remembering the past, when he gives himselfup to it, when, in short, he loves as he is loved, this man drains atone draught all earthly emotions, and after such a love his heart willbe closed to every other.

  I did not make these reflections on the morning when I returned home.They could but have been the presentiment of what was to happen tome, and, despite my love for Marguerite, I did not foresee suchconsequences. I make these reflections to-day. Now that all isirrevocably ended, they a rise naturally out of what has taken place.

  But to return to the first day of my liaison. When I reached home Iwas in a state of mad gaiety. As I thought of how the barriers which myimagination had placed between Marguerite and myself had disappeared, ofhow she was now mine; of the place I now had in her thoughts, of the keyto her room which I had in my pocket, and of my right to use this key, Iwas satisfied with life, proud of myself, and I loved God because he hadlet such things be.

  One day a young man is passing in the street, he brushes against awoman, looks at her, turns, goes on his way. He does not know the woman,and she has pleasures, griefs, loves, in which he has no part. He doesnot exist for her, and perhaps, if he spoke to her, she would only laughat him, as Marguerite had laughed at me. Weeks, months, years pass, andall at once, when they have each followed their fate along a differentpath, the logic of chance brings them face to face. The woman becomesthe man's mistress and loves him. How? why? Their two existences arehenceforth one; they have scarcely begun to know one another when itseems as if they had known one another always, and all that had gonebefore is wiped out from the memory of the two lovers. It is curious,one must admit.

  As for me, I no longer remembered how I had lived before that night.My whole being was exalted into joy at the memory of the words we hadexchanged during that first night. Either Marguerite was very cleverin deception, or she had conceived for me one of those sudden passionswhich are revealed in the first kiss, and which die, often enough, assuddenly as they were born.

  The more I reflected the more I said to myself that Marguerite had noreason for feigning a love which she did not feel, and I said to myselfalso that women have two ways of loving, one of which may arise from theother: they love with the heart or with the senses. Often a woman takesa lover in obedience to the mere will of the senses, and learns withoutexpecting it the mystery of immaterial love, and lives henceforth onlythrough her heart; often a girl who has sought in marriage only theunion of two pure affections receives the sudden revelation of physicallove, that energetic conclusion of the purest impressions of the soul.

  In the midst of these thoughts I fell asleep; I was awakened by a letterfrom Marguerite containing these words:

  "Here are my orders: To-night at the Vaudeville.

  "Come during the third entr'acte."

  I put the letter into a drawer, so that I might always have it at handin case I doubted its reality, as I did from time to time.

  She did not tell me to come to see her during the day, and I dared notgo; but I had so great a desire to see her before the evening that Iwent to the Champs-Elysees, where I again saw her pass and repass, as Ihad on the previous day.

  At seven o'clock I was at the Vaudeville. Never had I gone to a theatreso early. The boxes filled one after another. Only one remained empty,the stage box. At the be
ginning of the third act I heard the door ofthe box, on which my eyes had been almost constantly fixed, open, andMarguerite appeared. She came to the front at once, looked around thestalls, saw me, and thanked me with a look.

  That night she was marvellously beautiful. Was I the cause of thiscoquetry? Did she love me enough to believe that the more beautiful shelooked the happier I should be? I did not know, but if that had beenher intention she certainly succeeded, for when she appeared all headsturned, and the actor who was then on the stage looked to see who hadproduced such an effect on the audience by her mere presence there.

  And I had the key of this woman's room, and in three or four hours shewould again be mine!

  People blame those who let themselves be ruined by actresses and keptwomen; what astonishes me is that twenty times greater follies are notcommitted for them. One must have lived that life, as I have, to knowhow much the little vanities which they afford their lovers every dayhelp to fasten deeper into the heart, since we have no other word forit, the love which he has for them.

  Prudence next took her place in the box, and a man, whom I recognised asthe Comte de G., seated himself at the back. As I saw him, a cold shiverwent through my heart.

  Doubtless Marguerite perceived the impression made on me by the presenceof this man, for she smiled to me again, and, turning her back to thecount, appeared to be very attentive to the play. At the third entr'acteshe turned and said two words: the count left the box, and Margueritebeckoned to me to come to her.

  "Good-evening," she said as I entered, holding out her hand.

  "Good-evening," I replied to both Marguerite and Prudence.

  "Sit down."

  "But I am taking someone's place. Isn't the Comte de G. coming back?"

  "Yes; I sent him to fetch some sweets, so that we could talk byourselves for a moment. Mme. Duvernoy is in on the secret."

  "Yes, my children," said she; "have no fear. I shall say nothing."

  "What is the matter with you to-night?" said Marguerite, rising andcoming to the back of the box and kissing me on the forehead.

  "I am not very well."

  "You should go to bed," she replied, with that ironical air which wentso well with her delicate and witty face.

  "Where?"

  "At home."

  "You know that I shouldn't be able to sleep there."

  "Well, then, it won't do for you to come and be pettish here because youhave seen a man in my box."

  "It is not for that reason."

  "Yes, it is. I know; and you are wrong, so let us say no more aboutit. You will go back with Prudence after the theatre, and you will staythere till I call. Do you understand?"

  "Yes."

  How could I disobey?

  "You still love me?"

  "Can you ask?"

  "You have thought of me?"

  "All day long."

  "Do you know that I am really afraid that I shall get very fond of you?Ask Prudence."

  "Ah," said she, "it is amazing!"

  "Now, you must go back to your seat. The count will be coming back, andthere is nothing to be gained by his finding you here."

  "Because you don't like seeing him."

  "No; only if you had told me that you wanted to come to the Vaudevilleto-night I could have got this box for you as well as he."

  "Unfortunately, he got it for me without my asking him, and he asked meto go with him; you know well enough that I couldn't refuse. All I coulddo was to write and tell you where I was going, so that you could seeme, and because I wanted to see you myself; but since this is the wayyou thank me, I shall profit by the lesson."

  "I was wrong; forgive me."

  "Well and good; and now go back nicely to your place, and, above all, nomore jealousy."

  She kissed me again, and I left the box. In the passage I met the countcoming back. I returned to my seat.

  After all, the presence of M. de G. in Marguerite's box was the mostnatural thing in the world. He had been her lover, he sent her a box, heaccompanied her to the theatre; it was all quite natural, and if I wasto have a mistress like Marguerite I should have to get used to herways.

  Nonetheless, I was very unhappy all the rest of the evening, and wentaway very sadly after having seen Prudence, the count, and Margueriteget into the carriage, which was waiting for them at the door.

  However, a quarter of an hour later I was at Prudence's. She had onlyjust got in.