The Lily of the Valley==> page 56

I loved her too passionately not to feel jealous,--I who could give her
nothing! In my rage against myself I longed for some means of dying for
her. She asked me to tell her the thoughts that filled my eyes, and I
told her honestly. She was more touched than by all her presents; then
taking me to the portico, she poured comfort into my heart. "Love me as
my aunt loved me," she said, "and that will be giving me your life; and
if I take it, must I not ever be grateful to you?

"It was time I finished my tapestry," she added as we re-entered the
salon, where I kissed her hand as if to renew my vows. "Perhaps you do
not know, Felix, why I began so formidable a piece of work. Men find the
occupations of life a great resource against troubles; the management of
affairs distracts their mind; but we poor women have no support within
ourselves against our sorrows. To be able to smile before my children
and my husband when my heart was heavy I felt the need of controlling my
inward sufferings by some physical exercise. In this way I escaped
the depression which is apt to follow a great strain upon the moral
strength, and likewise all outbursts of excitement. The mere action of
lifting my arm regularly as I drew the stitches rocked my thoughts and
gave to my spirit when the tempest raged a monotonous ebb and flow
which seemed to regulate its emotions. To every stitch I confided my
secrets,--you understand me, do you not? Well, while doing my last chair
I have thought much, too much, of you, dear friend. What you have put
into your bouquets I have said in my embroidery."

The dinner was lovely. Jacques, like all children when you take notice
of them, jumped into my arms when he saw the flowers I had arranged for
him as a garland. His mother pretended to be jealous; ah, Natalie, you
should have seen the charming grace with which the dear child offered
them to her. In the afternoon we played a game of backgammon, I alone
against Monsieur and Madame de Mortsauf, and the count was charming.
They accompanied me along the road to Frapesle in the twilight of a
tranquil evening, one of those harmonious evenings when our feelings
gain in depth what they lose in vivacity. It was a day of days in
this poor woman's life; a spot of brightness which often comforted her
thoughts in painful hours.

Soon, however, the riding lessons became a subject of contention. The
countess justly feared the count's harsh reprimands to his son. Jacques
grew thin, dark circles surrounded his sweet blue eyes; rather than
trouble his mother, he suffered in silence. I advised him to tell
his father he was tired when the count's temper was violent; but that
expedient proved unavailing, and it became necessary to substitute
the old huntsman as a teacher in place of the father, who could
with difficulty be induced to resign his pupil. Angry reproaches and
contentions began once more; the count found a text for his continual
complaints in the base ingratitude of women; he flung the carriage,
horses, and liveries in his wife's face twenty times a day. At last a
circumstance occurred on which a man with his nature and his disease
naturally fastened eagerly. The cost of the buildings at the Cassine
and the Rhetoriere proved to be half as much again as the estimate.
This news was unfortunately given in the first instance to Monsieur de
Mortsauf instead of to his wife. It was the ground of a quarrel, which
began mildly but grew more and more embittered until it seemed as
though the count's madness, lulled for a short time, was demanding its
arrearages from the poor wife.

That day I had started from Frapesle at half-past ten to search for
flowers with Madeleine. The child had brought the two vases to the
portico, and I was wandering about the gardens and adjoining meadows
gathering the autumn flowers, so beautiful, but too rare. Returning from
my final quest, I could not find my little lieutenant with her white
cape and broad pink sash; but I heard cries within the house, and
Madeleine presently came running out.

"The general," she said, crying (the term with her was an expression of
dislike), "the general is scolding mamma; go and defend her."

I sprang up the steps of the portico and reached the salon without being
seen by either the count or his wife. Hearing the madman's sharp cries
I first shut all the doors, then I returned and found Henriette as white
as her dress.