The Story of Manon Lescaut and of the Chevalier des Grieux/Chapter 8

by L'Abbé Prévost

Chapter VIII.

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The distress which this scene with Tiberge had caused me was soon dispelled by Manon's caresses. We continued to lead a life that was all made up of love and pleasure. With the increase of our wealth came redoubled affection. Venus and the Goddess of Fortune had no slaves happier or more loving than we. Why call this world an abode of misery, when it can offer the enjoyment of such exquisite delights as these? Alas! Because they have the drawback of passing away all too soon. What other felicity would mortals desire, if such joys as these were of a kind to last forever? Ours shared the common fate of being short-lived and bringing in their train the bitterest regrets.

My gains at play had become so considerable that I was thinking of investing part of my money. My successes were no secret to our servants—being especially well known to my own valet and Manon's maid, before both of whom we were in the habit of talking quite unreservedly and without any misgivings. The maid was a pretty girl, and my valet's sweetheart. They had to deal with young and lenient employers, whom they supposed that they would have no difficulty in deceiving. They conceived the design of doing so, and carried it into effect with results so disastrous to us that we were thrown into a plight from which we were never able to recover.

We had supped one evening with M. Lescaut, and it was close upon midnight when we returned home. I called my valet, and Manon her maid, but neither of them made their appearance. We were told that they had not been seen about the house since eight o'clock, and that they had gone out after having had some chests carried away, in obedience to orders which they said they had received from me. I had a presentiment of part of the truth, but I entertained no suspicions that were not exceeded by what I discovered upon entering my room. The lock on my closet-door had been forced, and my money, together with all my clothes, had been made away with. While I was pondering by myself over this misadventure, Manon ran in great dismay to tell me that her apartment had been similarly plundered. So cruelly did I feel this blow that it was only by a supreme effort of self-control that I restrained myself from bursting into tears. The fear of imparting my own despair to Manon forced me to assume an air of indifference. I told her jestingly that I would revenge myself on some dupe at the Hôtel de Transilvanie. She seemed to take our misfortune so much to heart, however, that her grief had far more effect in depressing me than my pretended cheerfulness had in preventing her from giving way to utter despondency.

"We are ruined!" she cried, as the tears streamed from her eyes. In vain did I strive to console her by my caresses, for my own tears betrayed my consternation and despair. We were, in sober truth, so completely beggared that not a shred was left us save what we had on our backs.

I decided to send at once for M. Lescaut. He advised me to go without delay to the Lieutenant of Police and the Provost-Marshal of Paris. I went, and, in going, I brought upon myself a still greater calamity. For not only was my own trouble and that to which I put these two officers of justice entirely barren of results, but I thus afforded Lescaut an opportunity of talking to his sister; and he took advantage of my absence to inspire her with an atrocious design. He told her of a certain M. de G——— M———, an old voluptuary who paid for his pleasures with a lavish hand; and so impressed her with the many advantages she would gain by earning his liberality, that—disturbed in mind as she was by our misfortune—she yielded a full assent to all his propositions. This most honorable bargain was struck before my return; its actual fulfilment being postponed until the following day, when Lescaut should have apprised M. de G——— M——— of the arrangement.

I found Lescaut waiting for me when I reached home, but Manon had retired to bed in her own room, leaving orders with her servant to tell me that, as she felt in need of rest, she hoped that I would allow her to pass the night alone. Lescaut left me, after offering me a few pistoles, which I accepted. It was nearly four o'clock when I went to bed; and as even then I lay for a long while revolving in my mind some method of retrieving my fortunes, it was so late when I fell asleep that I did not awake until between eleven and twelve o'clock. Rising at once, I hastened to inquire how Manon was feeling; and was informed that she had gone out an hour before with her brother, who had called for her in a hackney-coach.

Although such an expedition with Lescaut struck me as mysterious, I forced myself to repress my suspicions, and whiled away some hours in reading. At last, unable any longer to master my disquietude, I strode rapidly back and forth through our apartments, until, in Manon's room, I caught sight of a sealed letter lying on the table. It was in her writing, and addressed to me. I tore it open with a shudder of mortal dread, and read as follows:

"I swear to you, my dear Chevalier, that you are the idol of my heart, and that in all this world there is not another man whom I could ever love as I love you. But do you not see, my poor dear soul, that in the plight to which we are now reduced, constancy is a foolish virtue? Do you suppose that weak mortals can indulge in tenderness while they lack bread to eat? Hunger, I fear, would lead me into some fatal mistake; some fine day I should breathe my last when I thought to heave only a love-sigh. I adore you; rest assured of that; but leave the management of our fortunes to me for awhile. Woe be to him who gets entangled in my meshes! for I seek only to bring wealth and happiness to my Chevalier.

"My brother will give you tidings of your Manon, and will tell you how she wept at the necessity of leaving you."

It would be difficult for me to describe my state of mind after the perusal of this letter; for to this day I do not know in what category to place the feelings that then swept over me. It was one of those mental crises which stand out, separate and distinct, from all others in a man's life, to which his previous experience supplies no parallel, and the very conception of which it is impossible to convey to other minds, as they—from the nature of the case—can have no clue to guide them to it. Nor is it easy to analyze them clearly to one's self: for, being, as they are, solitary instances of their kind, they can be brought into relation with nothing in the memory, and cannot even be compared with any known feeling.

Of whatever nature my emotions may have been, however, among them were certainly grief, vexation, jealousy, and shame. Happy had I been if there had not mingled with them a love that was stronger than them all!

"She loves me!" I cried; "I must fain believe it; for how could she do otherwise, unless she were a veritable fiend? What claims did man ever have upon a heart that I have not upon hers? What more is there that I can do for her, after all that I have sacrificed for her sake? Yet she abandons me, and thinks, ungrateful girl, to shield herself from my reproaches by declaring that she has not ceased to love me! She pleads her dread of hunger! God of Love, what grossness of sentiment! How poor a return for the delicacy of my own! Hunger! Have I feared it? I, who so willingly expose myself to its terrors for love of her, by renouncing my fortune and the comforts of my home! I, who have foregone all but the very necessaries of life, that I might indulge her slightest whims and caprices! She adores me, so she says. Did you adore me, heartless girl, I know from whom you would have sought advice! You would not have left me without at least bidding me farewell. It is I who can best say what cruel anguish there is in being separated from one whom we adore. Surely, no one could be sane, and yet willingly incur it!"

My lamentations were interrupted by a visitor whom I little expected to see—none other than Lescaut himself.

"Villain!" I cried, grasping my sword, "where is Manon? What have you done with her?"

This outburst alarmed him. He replied that if I received him in this fashion when he came to give me an account of the greatest service he could have rendered me, he would take his leave, never to set foot in my house again. I ran to the door of the room and closed it carefully.

"Do not flatter yourself," I said, confronting him, "that you will be able once more to make a dupe of me and impose upon my credulity with your fables! Either draw and defend yourself or restore Manon to me!"

"Curse it, man," he rejoined, "do not be so hasty. That is the very subject that brings me here. I have come to tell you of a stroke of good fortune which you little expect, and for which you will admit, perhaps, that you are under some obligation to me."

I desired him to enlighten me at once. He told me that Manon, being unable to bear the fear of poverty, and above all the idea of having to submit suddenly to the reduction of our establishment, had begged him to procure her the acquaintance of Monsieur de G——— M———, who had the name of being a man of generosity. He was careful not to tell me that this had been at his advice, nor that he had paved the way before taking her.

"I took her to see him this morning," he continued, "and the worthy man found her so attractive, that he at once invited her to accompany him to his country-house, where he has gone to spend a few days. I," added Lescaut, "quickly realizing how this might be turned to your advantage, gave him adroitly to understand that Manon had suffered considerable losses; and I so spurred his generosity that he made her a present of two hundred pistoles to begin with. I told him that this would do very well for the present; but that the future would bring many wants upon my sister; that she had, moreover, undertaken the care of a young brother who had been left on our hands by the death of our father and mother; and that if he thought her worthy of his regard, he would not permit her to suffer through this poor child, whom she looked upon as a part of herself. This story did not fail to touch him. He promised to take a comfortable house for you and Manon; for you, of course, are the poor little orphan brother. He agrees to furnish it suitably, and to allow you a round four hundred livres every month, which, if I count aright, will make four thousand eight hundred livres a year. Before going to his country-seat, he left orders with his steward to look for a house, and to have it ready on his return. Then you will again see Manon, who bade me tell you that she sent you a thousand kisses, and assure you that she loves you more than ever."

I sat down, pondering over this curious dispensation of Fate. Filled with conflicting emotions, I was in a state of indecision so difficult to terminate that I remained for a long while without making any response to the numerous questions which Lescaut asked me in rapid succession. Once more, at that moment, did honor and virtue assert themselves and make me feel the stings of remorse. I sighed as my thoughts reverted to Amiens, to my home, to St. Sulpice, to all those spots where I had lived in blameless innocence. How vast was the gulf which separated me from that state of happiness! I saw it now only from afar, like a phantom vision, which still inspired me with yearning and regret, but which was too dim and unsubstantial to rouse me to effort. "By what fatality," I asked myself, "have I become thus steeped in guilt? Love is an innocent passion; how has it been transformed for me into a source of sin and misery? Who was there to prevent my living peacefully and virtuously with Manon? Why did I not wed her before claiming any favors from her love? My father, with his deep affection for me, would surely have consented to my doing so, had I but urged him with proper entreaties. Aye! My father would have grown to love her himself, as a sweet girl, only too worthy of being his son's wife. I should now be happy in Manon's love, in my father's affection, in the esteem of honorable men, in the blessings of fortune, and the serene tranquillity of a virtuous life. How melancholy a contrast does the reality present! Here am I called upon to play a part so vile that I shudder to think of it! What! Must I then consent to share . . . Yet how can I hesitate, since Manon has so decreed, and since I must lose her unless I comply?"

"M. Lescaut," I exclaimed, closing my eyes as if to shut out these torturing reflections, "if it has been your intention to do me a service, I thank you. You might, indeed, have found a more honorable method; but it is a settled thing, as I understand it. Let us, then, dismiss all other considerations but those of how we may best profit by your exertions, and carry your project into effect."

Lescaut—whom my indignation, followed by such long-continued silence, had considerably embarrassed—was delighted to see me come to a decision so totally opposed to the one which he had doubtless dreaded that I would adopt. He was anything but courageous, as I had subsequently even better occasion to know.

"Yes, yes," he hastened to reply; "I have done you a very good turn, and you will yet find that it is more to our advantage than you are disposed to believe."

We then consulted as to how we should disarm the suspicions which Monsieur de G——— M——— might conceive as to the reality of our fraternal relationship when he found me taller and somewhat older than he probably expected. We could hit upon no better plan than for me to assume the manner of a countrified simpleton in his presence, while we led him to believe that I intended entering the Church, and was preparing myself for that career by daily attendance at college.

We decided, also, that I should dress myself very shabbily on the first occasion that I was allowed the honor of paying my respects to him. He returned to town some three or four days after this; and himself installed Manon in the house which his steward had punctually prepared for her reception. She at once let Lescaut know of her return; and when he had brought me word of it, we went together to the house to see her. Her old gallant had already left her.

Despite the resignation with which I had submitted to Manon's wishes, I could not altogether repress the rebellious dissatisfaction in my heart on seeing her again. My manner towards her was sad and dejected. The joy of having her once more at my side did not entirely counterbalance my grief at her infidelity. Her delight at being with me again seemed, on the contrary, to be without alloy. Upon her reproaching me for my coldness toward her, the words "Faithless and inconstant girl!" burst involuntarily from my lips, accompanied by a bitter sigh. At first she rallied me on my folly; but when she realized, from the sadness with which I continued to gaze at her, what pain it was costing me to reconcile myself to a change so opposed to my honor and my wishes, she withdrew alone to her dressing-room. Following her a moment afterwards, I found her sitting there, bathed in tears. I asked her why she was weeping.

"Can you ask?" was her reply. "Do you suppose I care to live, if all that my life can accomplish now is to make you look sad-faced and grave? You have been here for an hour, and not a single kiss have you given me yet, while you have been submitting to my caresses all this time with the majestic indifference of the Grand Turk in his seraglio."

"Listen to me, Manon," answered I, as I embraced her, "I cannot help letting you see that my heart is very, very heavy. I will say nothing at present about the agonies of fear into which you threw me by your unlooked-for flight; nor about your cruelty in deserting me without a word of consolation, after spending the whole night away from my arms. The charm of your presence can make me forget all this, and more than this. But do you imagine that I can look forward without sighing, aye, and weeping," and, as I spoke, the tears rose to my eyes, "to the vile and unhappy life which you expect me to lead in this house? I put aside all consideration of my honor and of my rank; it is too late now for such feeble influences as these to enter into rivalry with a love like mine. But can you not understand how bitter it is for me to see that love so ill requited, nay, so cruelly used by an ungrateful and heartless mistress?———"

"Stay!" she interrupted. "Why torture me, dear Chevalier, with reproaches which, coming as they do from you, pierce me to the very heart? I see what it is that wounds your feelings. I had hoped, I own, that you would consent to my project of doing something towards retrieving our fortunes; and it was out of consideration for your delicate sense of honor that I began to put it into execution without consulting you. But I renounce it, now that I find you so strongly disapprove of it."

She added that all she asked of me was a little forbearance during the remainder of the day; explaining that she had already received two hundred pistoles from her old lover, and that he had promised to bring her, that evening, a handsome necklace of pearls, and other jewels, as well as one half of the annual allowance he had agreed to make her.

"Only give me time," she begged, "to get his presents into my possession. I assure you, on my word of honor, that he will not be able to boast of having obtained any favors from me; for as yet I have put him off until our return to town. He has, indeed, kissed my hand some thousands of times, and it is only right that he should pay for that pleasure. It will not be dear at five or six thousand francs, making the price proportionate to his wealth and age."

The resolution she had taken gave me far more pleasure than the prospect of gaining five thousand francs. I was encouraged to believe that my heart was not yet lost to all sense of honor, when I felt how deeply it rejoiced at escaping from infamy. But I was born for short-lived joys and lasting sorrows. Fortune rescued me from the brink of one precipice only to hurl me over another.

When I had evinced my delight at her change of purpose by a shower of kisses, I told Manon that M. Lescaut must be informed of it, so that our measures might be taken in concert. He was at first inclined to meet it with some opposition; but the mention of the four or five thousand livres of ready money to be gained soon won his cheerful assent to our views. It was accordingly arranged that we should all three be present at supper with M. de G——— M———. Our object in this was two-fold. In the first place, we anticipated much diversion from the little comedy in which I was to play the part of Manon's school-boy brother; and, secondly, we should thus prevent the old rake from taking any undue liberties with my mistress, in the exercise of those rights which he would suppose himself to have acquired by paying so liberally in advance.

Lescaut and I were to take our leave upon his going up-stairs to the room in which he expected to pass the night, and Manon, instead of accompanying him, promised to slip out of the house and spend it with me. Lescaut undertook to have a coach at the door at the right moment.

Supper-time drew near, and M. de G——— M——— was not long in making his appearance. Lescaut remained in the parlor with his sister. The old man's first proceeding was to present his inamorata with a necklace, bracelets, and ear-rings of pearls, worth at the very least a thousand crowns. He next counted out to her in bright louis d'or the sum of two thousand four hundred livres, which constituted one half of the promised annual allowance. He accompanied his presents with a number of courtly compliments in the old-school style of gallantry.

Manon could not refuse him a few kisses; they were the only title she acquired to the money he gave her. I was listening at the door and waiting for Lescaut to give me the signal to enter the room. He came and took me by the hand as soon as Manon had secured the money and the jewels, and leading me up to M. de G——— M———, he bade me make him a bow. I made two or three, bowing almost to the ground each time.

"You must excuse him, sir," said Lescaut; "the youngster is quite a greenhorn, and very far, as you can perceive, from having Parisian manners; but we hope that a little practice will give him some polish. You will have the honor," added he, turning to me, "of often seeing this gentleman here; be sure you profit by so good an example."

The old gallant seemed pleased to see me. He patted me once or twice on the cheek, and told me that I was a fine lad, but that I must be on my guard in Paris, where young folk were very apt to be led into dissipation. Lescaut assured him that I was of so virtuous a disposition that I talked of nothing but of becoming a priest, and that my chief amusement consisted in building miniature chapels.

"I think he is like Manon," remarked the old gentleman, raising my chin with his hand.

I replied, with affected stupidity, "That's because we are of the same blood and bone, sir; and, besides, I love my sister Manon just as if she were part of myself."

"Do you hear that?" he said to Lescaut. "He's a bright lad, and it's a pity that he has not seen enough of the world to give him a little better manner."

"Oh, sir!" I answered, "I have seen a great many of the world in our churches at home, and I dare say that I shall find some in Paris with no better wits than my own."

"Come!" he exclaimed, "that's an excellent sally for a country lad!"

All our conversation during supper was of much the same kind. Manon, who was in the merriest of moods, came more than once within an ace of spoiling all by her uncontrollable outbursts of laughter. Before we left the table I found an opportunity of telling the old dupe his own story, not omitting even the sorry fate that was in store for him. Lescaut and Manon were on thorns while I was recounting it—especially when I drew his portrait to the life; but his vanity prevented his recognizing himself in my description, and I gave it such an adroit turn as I concluded, that he was the first to declare it very droll.

I have good reasons, as you will see, for dwelling at such length upon this ludicrous episode.

As bed-time drew near he began to grow eloquent on the subject of his passion and his impatience. Lescaut and I thereupon took our leave, and he was shown to his room. Manon, finding some pretext for leaving it, ran to the door and joined us. The coach, which was waiting for us a few houses further down the street, drove up to receive us, and we lost not an instant in leaving that quarter of the town behind us.

Although I could not shut my eyes to the fact that this proceeding was a piece of downright rascality, I did not consider it by any means the most iniquitous that I had to reproach myself with. The money which I had won at play lay far heavier on my conscience. We profited as little by the one as by the other, however, and Heaven ordained that the less dishonorable of these two offences should be the more severely punished.