La dame aux camélias (Novel). English

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter 24

  It was something already, but it was not enough. I saw the hold which Ihad upon this woman, and I took a cowardly advantage of it.

  When I think that she is dead now, I ask myself if God will ever forgiveme for the wrong I did her.

  After the supper, which was noisy as could be, there was gambling. I satby the side of Olympe and put down my money so recklessly that she couldnot but notice me. In an instant I had gained one hundred and fifty ortwo hundred louis, which I spread out before me on the table, and onwhich she fastened her eyes greedily.

  I was the only one not completely absorbed by the game, and able to payher some attention. All the rest of the night I gained, and it was Iwho gave her money to play, for she had lost all she had before her andprobably all she had in the house.

  At five in the morning, the guests departed. I had gained three hundredlouis.

  All the players were already on their way downstairs; I was the onlyone who had remained behind, and as I did not know any of them, no onenoticed it. Olympe herself was lighting the way, and I was going tofollow the others, when, turning back, I said to her:

  "I must speak to you."

  "To-morrow," she said.

  "No, now."

  "What have you to say?"

  "You will see."

  And I went back into the room.

  "You have lost," I said.

  "Yes.

  "All that you had in the house?"

  She hesitated.

  "Be frank."

  "Well, it is true."

  "I have won three hundred louis. Here they are, if you will let me stayhere to-night."

  And I threw the gold on the table.

  "And why this proposition?"

  "Because I am in love with you, of course."

  "No, but because you love Marguerite, and you want to have your revengeupon her by becoming my lover. You don't deceive a woman like me, mydear friend; unluckily, I am still too young and too good-looking toaccept the part that you offer me."

  "So you refuse?"

  "Yes.

  "Would you rather take me for nothing? It is I who wouldn't accept then.Think it over, my dear Olympe; if I had sent someone to offer you thesethree hundred louis on my behalf, on the conditions I attach to them,you would have accepted. I preferred to speak to you myself. Acceptwithout inquiring into my reasons; say to yourself that you arebeautiful, and that there is nothing surprising in my being in love withyou."

  Marguerite was a woman in the same position as Olympe, and yet I shouldnever have dared say to her the first time I met her what I had said tothe other woman. I loved Marguerite. I saw in her instincts which werelacking in the other, and at the very moment in which I made my bargain,I felt a disgust toward the woman with whom I was making it.

  She accepted, of course, in the end, and at midday I left her house asher lover; but I quitted her without a recollection of the caressesand of the words of love which she had felt bound to shower upon me inreturn for the six thousand francs which I left with her. And yet therewere men who had ruined themselves for that woman.

  From that day I inflicted on Marguerite a continual persecution. Olympeand she gave up seeing one another, as you might imagine. I gave mynew mistress a carriage and jewels. I gambled, I committed everyextravagance which could be expected of a man in love with such a womanas Olympe. The report of my new infatuation was immediately spreadabroad.

  Prudence herself was taken in, and finally thought that I had completelyforgotten Marguerite. Marguerite herself, whether she guessed my motiveor was deceived like everybody else, preserved a perfect dignity inresponse to the insults which I heaped upon her daily. Only, she seemedto suffer, for whenever I met her she was more and more pale, moreand more sad. My love for her, carried to the point at which it wastransformed into hatred, rejoiced at the sight of her daily sorrow.Often, when my cruelty toward her became infamous, Marguerite liftedupon me such appealing eyes that I blushed for the part I was playing,and was ready to implore her forgiveness.

  But my repentance was only of a moment's duration, and Olympe, who hadfinally put aside all self-respect, and discovered that by annoyingMarguerite she could get from me whatever she wanted, constantly stirredup my resentment against her, and insulted her whenever she found anopportunity, with the cowardly persistence of a woman licensed by theauthority of a man.

  At last Marguerite gave up going to balls or theatres, for fear ofmeeting Olympe and me. Then direct impertinences gave way to anonymousletters, and there was not a shameful thing which I did not encouragemy mistress to relate and which I did not myself relate in reference toMarguerite.

  To reach such a point I must have been literally mad. I was like a mandrunk upon bad wine, who falls into one of those nervous exaltations inwhich the hand is capable of committing a crime without the head knowinganything about it. In the midst of it all I endured a martyrdom. Thenot disdainful calm, the not contemptuous dignity with which Margueriteresponded to all my attacks, and which raised her above me in my owneyes, enraged me still more against her.

  One evening Olympe had gone somewhere or other, and had met Marguerite,who for once had not spared the foolish creature, so that she had had toretire in confusion. Olympe returned in a fury, and Marguerite faintedand had to be carried out. Olympe related to me what had happened,declared that Marguerite, seeing her alone, had revenged herself uponher because she was my mistress, and that I must write and tell her torespect the woman whom I loved, whether I was present or absent.

  I need not tell you that I consented, and that I put into the letterwhich I sent to her address the same day, everything bitter, shameful,and cruel that I could think of.

  This time the blow was more than the unhappy creature could endurewithout replying. I felt sure that an answer would come, and I resolvednot to go out all day. About two there was a ring, and Prudence entered.

  I tried to assume an indifferent air as I asked her what had broughther; but that day Mme. Duvernoy was not in a laughing humour, and in areally moved voice she said to me that since my return, that is to sayfor about three weeks, I had left no occasion untried which could givepain to Marguerite, that she was completely upset by it, and that thescene of last night and my angry letter of the morning had forced her totake to her bed. In short, without making any reproach, Margueritesent to ask me for a little pity, since she had no longer the moral orphysical strength to endure what I was making her suffer.

  "That Mlle. Gautier," I said to Prudence, "should turn me out of her ownhouse is quite reasonable, but that she should insult the woman whom Ilove, under the pretence that this woman is my mistress, is a thing Iwill never permit."

  "My friend," said Prudence, "you are under the influence of a woman whohas neither heart nor sense; you are in love with her, it is true, butthat is not a reason for torturing a woman who can not defend herself."

  "Let Mlle. Gautier send me her Comte de N. and the sides will be equal."

  "You know very well that she will not do that. So, my dear Armand, lether alone. If you saw her you would be ashamed of the way in which youare treating her. She is white, she coughs--she won't last long now."

  And Prudence held out her hand to me, adding:

  "Come and see her; it will make her very happy."

  "I have no desire to meet M. de N."

  "M. de N. is never there. She can not endure him."

  "If Marguerite wishes to see me, she knows where I live; let her come tosee me, but, for my part, I will never put foot in the Rue d'Antin."

  "Will you receive her well?"

  "Certainly."

  "Well, I am sure that she will come."

  "Let her come."

  "Shall you be out to-day?"

  "I shall be at home all the evening."

  "I will tell her."

  And Prudence left me.

  I did not even write to tell Olympe not to expect me. I never troubledmuch about her, scarcely going to see her one night a week. She consoledhers
elf, I believe, with an actor from some theatre or other.

  I went out for dinner and came back almost immediately. I had a fire litin my room and I told Joseph he could go out.

  I can give you no idea of the different impressions which agitated meduring the hour in which I waited; but when, toward nine o'clock, Iheard a ring, they thronged together into one such emotion, that, as Iopened the door, I was obliged to lean against the wall to keep myselffrom falling.

  Fortunately the anteroom was in half darkness, and the change in mycountenance was less visible. Marguerite entered.

  She was dressed in black and veiled. I could scarcely recognise her facethrough the veil. She went into the drawing-room and raised her veil.She was pale as marble.

  "I am here, Armand," she said; "you wished to see me and I have come."

  And letting her head fall on her hands, she burst into tears.

  I went up to her.

  "What is the matter?" I said to her in a low voice.

  She pressed my hand without a word, for tears still veiled her voice.But after a few minutes, recovering herself a little, she said to me:

  "You have been very unkind to me, Armand, and I have done nothing toyou."

  "Nothing?" I answered, with a bitter smile.

  "Nothing but what circumstances forced me to do."

  I do not know if you have ever in your life experienced, or if you willever experience, what I felt at the sight of Marguerite.

  The last time she had come to see me she had sat in the same place whereshe was now sitting; only, since then, she had been the mistress ofanother man, other kisses than mine had touched her lips, toward which,in spite of myself, my own reached out, and yet I felt that I loved thiswoman as much, more perhaps, than I had ever loved her.

  It was difficult for me to begin the conversation on the subject whichbrought her. Marguerite no doubt realized it, for she went on:

  "I have come to trouble you, Armand, for I have two things to ask:pardon for what I said yesterday to Mlle. Olympe, and pity for what youare perhaps still ready to do to me. Intentionally or not, since yourreturn you have given me so much pain that I should be incapable now ofenduring a fourth part of what I have endured till now. You will havepity on me, won't you? And you will understand that a man who is notheartless has other nobler things to do than to take his revenge upon asick and sad woman like me. See, take my hand. I am in a fever. I leftmy bed to come to you, and ask, not for your friendship, but for yourindifference."

  I took Marguerite's hand. It was burning, and the poor woman shiveredunder her fur cloak.

  I rolled the arm-chair in which she was sitting up to the fire.

  "Do you think, then, that I did not suffer," said I, "on that nightwhen, after waiting for you in the country, I came to look for you inParis, and found nothing but the letter which nearly drove me mad? Howcould you have deceived me, Marguerite, when I loved you so much?

  "Do not speak of that, Armand; I did not come to speak of that. I wantedto see you only not an enemy, and I wanted to take your hand once more.You have a mistress; she is young, pretty, you love her they say. Behappy with her and forget me."

  "And you. You are happy, no doubt?"

  "Have I the face of a happy woman, Armand? Do not mock my sorrow, you,who know better than anyone what its cause and its depth are."

  "It only depended on you not to have been unhappy at all, if you are asyou say."

  "No, my friend; circumstances were stronger than my will. I obeyed,not the instincts of a light woman, as you seem to say, but a seriousnecessity, and reasons which you will know one day, and which will makeyou forgive me."

  "Why do you not tell me those reasons to-day?"

  "Because they would not bring about an impossible reunion between us,and they would separate you perhaps from those from whom you must not beseparated."

  "Who do you mean?"

  "I can not tell you."

  "Then you are lying to me."

  Marguerite rose and went toward the door. I could not behold this silentand expressive sorrow without being touched, when I compared in my mindthis pale and weeping woman with the madcap who had made fun of me atthe Opera Comique.

  "You shall not go," I said, putting myself in front of the door.

  "Why?"

  "Because, in spite of what you have done to me, I love you always, and Iwant you to stay here."

  "To turn me out to-morrow? No; it is impossible. Our destinies areseparate; do not try to reunite them. You will despise me perhaps, whilenow you can only hate me."

  "No, Marguerite," I cried, feeling all my love and all my desirereawaken at the contact of this woman. "No, I will forget everything,and we will be happy as we promised one another that we would be."

  Marguerite shook her head doubtfully, and said:

  "Am I not your slave, your dog? Do with me what you will. Take me; I amyours."

  And throwing off her cloak and hat, she flung them on the sofa, andbegan hurriedly to undo the front of her dress, for, by one of thosereactions so frequent in her malady, the blood rushed to her head andstifled her. A hard, dry cough followed.

  "Tell my coachman," she said, "to go back with the carriage."

  I went down myself and sent him away. When I returned Marguerite waslying in front of the fire, and her teeth chattered with the cold.

  I took her in my arms. I undressed her, without her making a movement,and carried her, icy cold, to the bed. Then I sat beside her and triedto warm her with my caresses. She did not speak a word, but smiled atme.

  It was a strange night. All Marguerite's life seemed to have passed intothe kisses with which she covered me, and I loved her so much that inmy transports of feverish love I asked myself whether I should not killher, so that she might never belong to another.

  A month of love like that, and there would have remained only the corpseof heart or body.

  The dawn found us both awake. Marguerite was livid white. She did notspeak a word. From time to time, big tears rolled from her eyes, andstayed upon her cheeks, shining like diamonds. Her thin arms opened,from time to time, to hold me fast, and fell back helplessly upon thebed.

  For a moment it seemed to me as if I could forget all that had passedsince I had left Bougival, and I said to Marguerite:

  "Shall we go away and leave Paris?"

  "No, no!" she said, almost with affright; "we should be too unhappy. Ican do no more to make you happy, but while there is a breath of life inme, I will be the slave of your fancies. At whatever hour of the day ornight you will, come, and I will be yours; but do not link your futureany more with mine, you would be too unhappy and you would make me toounhappy. I shall still be pretty for a while; make the most of it, butask nothing more."

  When she had gone, I was frightened at the solitude in which she leftme. Two hours afterward I was still sitting on the side of the bed,looking at the pillow which kept the imprint of her form, and askingmyself what was to become of me, between my love and my jealousy.

  At five o'clock, without knowing what I was going to do, I went to theRue d'Antin.

  Nanine opened to me.

  "Madame can not receive you," she said in an embarrassed way.

  "Why?"

  "Because M. le Comte de N. is there, and he has given orders to let noone in."

  "Quite so," I stammered; "I forgot."

  I went home like a drunken man, and do you know what I did during themoment of jealous delirium which was long enough for the shameful thingI was going to do? I said to myself that the woman was laughing at me; Isaw her alone with the count, saying over to him the same words that shehad said to me in the night, and taking a five-hundred-franc note I sentit to her with these words:

  "You went away so suddenly that I forgot to pay you. Here is the priceof your night."

  Then when the letter was sent I went out as if to free myself from theinstantaneous remorse of this infamous action.

  I went to see Olympe, whom I found trying on dresses, and when we were
alone she sang obscene songs to amuse me. She was the very type of theshameless, heartless, senseless courtesan, for me at least, for perhapssome men might have dreamed of her as I dreamed of Marguerite. She askedme for money. I gave it to her, and, free then to go, I returned home.

  Marguerite had not answered.

  I need not tell you in what state of agitation I spent the next day. Athalf past nine a messenger brought me an envelope containing my letterand the five-hundred-franc note, not a word more.

  "Who gave you this?" I asked the man.

  "A lady who was starting with her maid in the next mail for Boulogne,and who told me not to take it until the coach was out of thecourtyard."

  I rushed to the Rue d'Antin.

  "Madame left for England at six o'clock," said the porter.

  There was nothing to hold me in Paris any longer, neither hate nor love.I was exhausted by this series of shocks. One of my friends was settingout on a tour in the East. I told my father I should like to accompanyhim; my father gave me drafts and letters of introduction, and eight orten days afterward I embarked at Marseilles.

  It was at Alexandria that I learned from an attache at the embassy, whomI had sometimes seen at Marguerite's, that the poor girl was seriouslyill.

  I then wrote her the letter which she answered in the way you know; Ireceived it at Toulon.

  I started at once, and you know the rest.

  Now you have only to read a few sheets which Julie Duprat gave me; theyare the best commentary on what I have just told you.