CHAPTER VI
ENNUI
Non so piu cosa son |
Mozart (Figaro). |
Madame de Rênal was going out of the salon by the folding window which opened on to the garden with that vivacity and grace which was natural to her when she was free from human observation, when she noticed a young peasant near the entrance gate. He was still almost a child, extremely pale, and looked as though he had been crying. He was in a white shirt and had under his arm a perfectly new suit of violet frieze.
The little peasant's complexion was so white and his eyes were so soft, that Madame de Rênal's somewhat romantic spirit thought at first that it might be a young girl in disguise, who had come to ask some favour of the M. the Mayor. She took pity on this poor creature, who had stopped at the entrance of the door, and who apparently did not dare to raise its hand to the bell. Madame de Rênal approached, forgetting for the moment the bitter chagrin occasioned by the tutor's arrival. Julien, who was turned towards the gate, did not see her advance. He trembled when a soft voice said quite close to his ear:
"What do you want here, my child."
Julien turned round sharply and was so struck by Madame de Rênal's look, full of graciousness as it was, that up to a certain point he forgot to be nervous. Overcome by her beauty he soon forgot everything, even what he had come for. Madame de Rênal repeated her question.
"I have come here to be tutor, Madame," he said at last, quite ashamed of his tears which he was drying as best as he could.
Madame de Rênal remained silent. They had a view or each other at close range. Julien had never seen a human being so well-dressed, and above all he had never seen a woman with so dazzling a complexion speak to him at all softly. Madame de Rênal observed the big tears which had lingered on the cheeks of the young peasant, those cheeks which had been so pale and were now so pink. Soon she began to laugh with all the mad gaiety of a young girl, she made fun of herself, and was unable to realise the extent of her happiness. So this was that tutor whom she had imagined a dirty, badly dressed priest, who was coming to scold and flog her children.
"What! Monsieur," she said to him at last, "you know Latin?"
The word "Monsieur" astonished Julien so much that he reflected for a moment.
"Yes, Madame," he said timidly.
Madame de Rênal was so happy that she plucked up the courage to say to Julien, "You will not scold the poor children too much?"
"I scold them!" said Julien in astonishment; "why should I?"
"You won't, will you, Monsieur," she added after a little silence, in a soft voice whose emotion became more and more intense. "You will be nice to them, you promise me?"
To hear himself called "Monsieur" again in all seriousness by so well dressed a lady was beyond all Julien's expectations. He had always said to himself in all the castles of Spain that he had built in his youth, that no real lady would ever condescend to talk to him except when he had a fine uniform. Madame de Rênal, on her side, was completely taken in by Julien's beautiful complexion, his big black eyes, and his pretty hair, which was more than usually curly, because he had just plunged his head into the basin of the public fountain in order to refresh himself. She was over-joyed to find that this sinister tutor, whom she had feared to find so harsh and severe to her children, had, as a matter of fact, the timid manner of a girl. The contrast between her fears and what she now saw, proved a great event for Madame de Rênal's peaceful temperament. Finally, she recovered from her surprise. She was astonished to find herself at the gate of her own house talking in this way and at such close quarters to this young and somewhat scantily dressed man.
"Let us go in, Monsieur," she said to him with a certain air of embarrassment.
During Madame de Rênal's whole life she had never been so deeply moved by such a sense of pure pleasure. Never had so gracious a vision followed in the wake of her disconcerting fears. So these pretty children of whom she took such care were not after all to fall into the hands of a dirty grumbling priest. She had scarcely entered the vestibule when she turned round towards Julien, who was following her trembling. His astonishment at the sight of so fine a house proved but an additional charm in Madame de Rênal's eyes. She could not believe her own eyes. It seemed to her, above all, that the tutor ought to have a black suit.
"But is it true, Monsieur," she said to him, stopping once again, and in mortal fear that she had made a mistake, so happy had her discovery made her. "Is it true that you know Latin?" These words offended Julien's pride, and dissipated the charming atmosphere which he had been enjoying for the last quarter of an hour.
"Yes, Madame," he said, trying to assume an air of coldness, "I know Latin as well as the curé, who has been good enough to say sometimes that I know it even better."
Madame de Rênal thought that Julien looked extremely wicked. He had stopped two paces from her. She approached and said to him in a whisper:
"You won't beat my children the first few days, will you, even if they do not know their lessons?"
The softness and almost supplication of so beautiful a lady made Julien suddenly forget what he owed to his reputation as a Latinist. Madame de Rênal's face was close to his own. He smelt the perfume of a woman's summer clothing, a quite astonishing experience for a poor peasant. Julien blushed extremely, and said with a sigh in a faltering voice:
"Fear nothing, Madame, I will obey you in everything."
It was only now, when her anxiety about her children had been relieved once and for all, that Madame de Rênal was struck by Julien's extreme beauty. The comparative effeminancy of his features and his air of extreme embarrassment did not seem in any way ridiculous to a woman who was herself extremely timid. The male air, which is usually considered essential to a man's beauty, would have terrified her.
"How old are you, sir, she said to Julien?"
"Nearly nineteen."
"My elder son is eleven," went on Madame de Rênal, who had completely recovered her confidence. "He will be almost a chum for you. You will talk sensibly to him. His father started beating him once. The child was ill for a whole week, and yet it was only a little tap."
What a difference between him and me, thought Julien. Why, it was only yesterday that my father beat me. How happy these rich people are. Madame de Rênal, who had already begun to observe the fine nuances of the workings in the tutor's mind, took this fit of sadness for timidity and tried to encourage him.
"What is your name, Monsieur?" she said to him, with an accent and a graciousness whose charm Julien appreciated without being able to explain.
"I am called Julien Sorel, Madame. I feel nervous of entering a strange house for the first time in my life. I have need of your protection and I want you to make many allowances for me during the first few days. I have never been to the college, I was too poor. I have never spoken to anyone else except my cousin who was Surgeon-Major, Member of the Legion of Honour, and M. the curé Chélan. He will give you a good account of me. My brothers always used to beat me, and you must not believe them if they speak badly of me to you. You must forgive my faults, Madame. I shall always mean everything for the best."
Julien had regained his confidence during this long speech. He was examining Madame de Rênal. Perfect grace works wonders when it is natural to the character, and above all, when the person whom it adorns never thinks of trying to affect it. Julien, who was quite a connoisseur in feminine beauty, would have sworn at this particular moment that she was not more than twenty. The rash idea of kissing her hand immediately occurred to him. He soon became frightened of his idea. A minute later he said to himself, it will be an act of cowardice if I do not carry out an action which may be useful to me, and lessen the contempt which this fine lady probably has for a poor workman just taken away from the saw-mill. Possibly Julien was a little encouraged through having heard some young girls repeat on Sundays during the last six months the words "pretty boy."
During this internal debate, Madame de Rênal was giving him two or three hints on the way to commence handling the children. The strain Julien was putting on himself made him once more very pale. He said with an air of constraint.
"I will never beat your children, Madame. I swear it before God." In saying this, he dared to take Madame de Rênal's hand and carry it to his lips. She was astonished at this act, and after reflecting, became shocked. As the weather was very warm, her arm was quite bare underneath the shawl, and Julien's movement in carrying her hand to his lips entirely uncovered it. After a few moments she scolded herself. It seemed to her that her anger had not been quick enough.
M. de Rênal, who had heard voices, came out of his study, and assuming the same air of paternal majesty with which he celebrated marriages at the mayoral office, said to Julien:
"It is essential for me to have a few words with you before my children see you." He made Julien enter a room and insisted on his wife being present, although she wished to leave them alone. Having closed the door M. Rênal sat down.
"M. the curé has told me that you are a worthy person, and everybody here will treat you with respect. If I am satisfied with you I will later on help you in having a little establishment of your own. I do not wish you to see either anything more of your relatives or your friends. Their tone is bound to be prejudicial to my children. Here are thirty-six francs for the first month, but I insist on your word not to give a sou of this money to your father."
M. de Rênal was piqued against the old man for having proved the shrewder bargainer.
"Now, Monsieur, for I have given orders for everybody here to call you Monsieur, and you will appreciate the advantage of having entered the house of real gentle folk, now, Monsieur, it is not becoming for the children to see you in a jacket." "Have the servants seen him?" said M. de Renal to his wife.
"No, my dear," she answered, with an air of deep pensiveness.
"All the better. Put this on," he said to the surprised young man, giving him a frock-coat of his own. "Let us now go to M. Durand's the draper."
When M. de Rênal came back with the new tutor in his black suit more than an hour later, he found his wife still seated in the same place. She felt calmed by Julien's presence. When she examined him she forgot to be frightened of him. Julien was not thinking about her at all. In spite of all his distrust of destiny and mankind, his soul at this moment was as simple as that of a child. It seemed as though he had lived through years since the moment, three hours ago, when he had been all atremble in the church. He noticed Madame de Rênal's frigid manner and realised that she was very angry, because he had dared to kiss her hand. But the proud consciousness which was given to him by the feel of clothes so different from those which he usually wore, transported him so violently and he had so great a desire to conceal his exultation, that all his movements were marked by a certain spasmodic irresponsibility. Madame de Rênal looked at him with astonishment.
"Monsieur," said M. de Rênal to him, "dignity above all is necessary if you wish to be respected by my children."
"Sir," answered Julien, "I feel awkward in my new clothes. I am a poor peasant and have never wore anything but jackets. If you allow it, I will retire to my room."
"What do you think of this 'acquisition?'" said M. de Rênal to his wife.
Madame de Rênal concealed the truth from her husband, obeying an almost instinctive impulse which she certainly did not own to herself.
"I am not as fascinated as you are by this little peasant. Your favours will result in his not being able to keep his place, and you will have to send him back before the month is out."
"Oh, well! we'll send him back then, he cannot run me into more than a hundred francs, and Verrières will have got used to seeing M. de Rênal's children with a tutor. That result would not have been achieved if I had allowed Julien to wear a workman's clothes. If I do send him back, I shall of course keep the complete black suit which I have just ordered at the draper's. All he will keep is the ready-made suit which I have just put him into at the the tailor's."
The hour that Julien spent in his room seemed only a minute to Madame de Rênal. The children who had been told about their new tutor began to overwhelm their mother with questions. Eventually Julien appeared. He was quite another man. It would be incorrect to say that he was grave—he was the very incarnation of gravity. He was introduced to the children and spoke to them in a manner that astonished M. de Rênal himself.
"I am here, gentlemen, he said, as he finished his speech, to teach you Latin. You know what it means to recite a lesson. Here is the Holy Bible, he said, showing them a small volume in thirty-two mo., bound in black. It deals especially with the history of our Lord Jesus Christ and is the part which is called the New Testament. I shall often make you recite your lesson, but do you make me now recite mine."
Adolphe, the eldest of the children, had taken up the book. "Open it anywhere you like," went on Julien and tell me the first word of any verse, "I will then recite by heart that sacred book which governs our conduct towards the whole world, until you stop me."
Adolphe opened the book and read a word, and Julien recited the whole of the page as easily as though he had been talking French. M. de Rênal looked at his wife with an air of triumph The children, seeing the astonishment of their parents, opened their eyes wide. A servant came to the door of the drawing-room; Julien went on talking Latin. The servant first remained motionless, and then disappeared. Soon Madame's house-maid, together with the cook, arrived at the door. Adolphe had already opened the book at eight different places, while Julien went on reciting all the time with the same facility. "Great heavens!" said the cook, a good and devout girl, quite aloud, "what a pretty little priest!" M. de Rênal's self-esteem became uneasy. Instead of thinking of examining the tutor, his mind was concentrated in racking his memory for some other Latin words. Eventully he managed to spout a phrase of Horace. Julien knew no other Latin except his Bible. He answered with a frown. "The holy ministry to which I destine myself has forbidden me to read so profane a poet."
M. de Rênal quoted quite a large number of alleged verses from Horace. He explained to his children who Horace was, but the admiring children, scarcely attended to what he was saying: they were looking at Julien.
The servants were still at the door. Julien thought that he ought to prolong the test—"M. Stanislas-Xavier also," he said to the youngest of the children, "must give me a passage from the holy book."
Little Stanislas, who was quite flattered, read indifferently the first word of a verse, and Julien said the whole page.
To put the finishing touch on M. de Rênal's triumph, M. Valenod, the owner of the fine Norman horses, and M. Charcot de Maugiron, the sub-prefect of the district came in when Julien was reciting. This scene earned for Julien the title of Monsieur; even the servants did not dare to refuse it to him.
That evening all Verrières flocked to M. de Rênal's to see the prodigy. Julien answered everybody in a gloomy manner and kept his own distance. His fame spread so rapidly in the town that a few hours afterwards M. de Rênal, fearing that he would be taken away by somebody else, proposed to hint that he should sign an engagement for two years.
"No, Monsieur," Julien answered coldly, "if you wished to dismiss me, I should have to go. An engagement which binds me without involving you in any obligation is not an equal one and I refuse it."
Julien played his cards so well, that in less than a month of his arrival at the house, M. de Rênal himself respected him. As the curé had quarrelled with both M. de Rênal and M. Valenod, there was no one who could betray Julien's old passion for Napoleon. He always spoke of Napoleon with abhorrence.