The Sorrows of an OfficialIl piacere di alzar la testa tutto l'anno e ben pagato da certi quartid'ora che bisogna passar. CASTIBut let us leave this little man to his little fears; why has he taken intohis house a man of feeling, when what he required was the soul of aflunkey? Why does he not know how to select his servants? The ordinaryprocedure of the nineteenth century is that when a powerful and noblepersonage encounters a man of feeling, he kills, exiles, imprisons or sohumiliates him that the other, like a fool, dies of grief. In this instance itso happens that it is not yet the man of feeling who suffers. The greatmisfortune of the small towns of France and of elected governments, likethat of New York, is an inability to forget that there exist in the worldpersons like M. de Renal. In a town of twenty thousand inhabitants,these men form public opinion, and public opinion is a terrible force in acountry that has the Charter. A man endowed with a noble soul, of generous instincts, who would have been your friend did he not live a hundred leagues away, judges you by the public opinion of your town,which is formed by the fools whom chance has made noble, rich andmoderate. Woe to him who distinguishes himself!

Immediately after dinner, they set off again for Vergy; but, two dayslater, Julien saw the whole family return to Verrieres.

An hour had not gone by before, greatly to his surprise, he discoveredthat Madame de Renal was making a mystery of something. She brokeoff her conversations with her husband as soon as he appeared, andseemed almost to wish him to go away. Julien did not wait to be toldtwice. He became cold and reserved; Madame de Renal noticed this, anddid not seek an explanation. 'Is she going to provide me with a successor?' thought Julien. 'Only the day before yesterday, she was so intimate with me! But they say that this is how great ladies behave. They are like kings, no one receives so much attention as the minister who, on going home, finds the letter announcing his dismissal.'

Julien remarked that in these conversations, which ceased abruptly onhis approach, there was frequent mention of a big house belonging to themunicipality of Verrieres, old, but large and commodious, and situatedopposite the church, in the most valuable quarter of the town. 'What connection can there be between that house and a new lover?' Julien askedhimself. In his distress of mind, he repeated to himself those charminglines of Francois I, which seemed to him new, because it was not a monthsince Madame de Renal had taught them to him. At that time, by howmany vows, by how many caresses had not each line been proved false!

Souvent femme varie Bien fol est qui s'y fie.

M. de Renal set off by post for Besancon. This journey was decidedupon at two hours' notice, he seemed greatly troubled. On his return, heflung a large bundle wrapped in grey paper on the table.

'So much for that stupid business,' he said to his wife.

An hour later, Julien saw the bill-sticker carrying off this large bundle;he followed him hastily. 'I shall learn the secret at the first street corner.'

He waited impatiently behind the bill-sticker, who with his fat brushwas slapping paste on the back of the bill. No sooner was it in its placethan Julien's curiosity read on it the announcement in full detail of thesale by public auction of the lease of that large and old house which recurred so frequently in M. de Renal's conversations with his wife. The assignation was announced for the following day at two o'clock, in thetown hall, on the extinction of the third light. Julien was greatly disappointed; he considered the interval to be rather short: how could all thepossible bidders come to know of the sale in time? But apart from this,the bill, which was dated a fortnight earlier and which he read from beginning to end in three different places, told him nothing.

He went to inspect the vacant house. The porter, who did not see himapproach, was saying mysteriously to a friend:

'Bah! It's a waste of time. M. Maslon promised him he should have itfor three hundred francs; and as the Mayor kicked, he was sent to theBishop's Palace, by the Vicar-General de Frilair.'

Julien's appearance on the scene seemed greatly to embarrass the twocronies, who did not say another word.

Julien did not fail to attend the auction. There was a crowd of peoplein an ill-lighted room; but everyone eyed his neighbours in a singular fashion. Every eye was fixed on a table, where Julien saw, on a pewterplate, three lighted candle-ends. The crier was shouting: 'Three hundredfrancs, gentlemen!'

'Three hundred francs! It is too bad!' one man murmured to another.

Julien was standing between them. 'It is worth more than eight hundred;I am going to cover the bid.'

'It's cutting off your nose to spite your face. What are you going to gainby bringing M. Maslon, M. Valenod, the Bishop, his terrible Vicar-General de Frilair and the whole of their gang down upon you?'

'Three hundred and twenty,' the other shouted.

'Stupid idiot!' retorted his neighbour. 'And here's one of the Mayor'sspies,' he added pointing at Julien.

Julien turned sharply to rebuke him for this speech; but the two Franc-Comtois paid no attention to him. Their coolness restored his own. Atthis moment the last candle-end went out, and the drawling voice of thecrier assigned the house for a lease of nine years to M. de Saint-Giraud,chief secretary at the Prefecture of --, and for three hundred and thirtyfrancs.

As soon as the Mayor had left the room, the discussion began.

'That's thirty francs Grogeot's imprudence has earned for the town,'

said one.

'But M. de Saint-Giraud,' came the answer, 'will have his revenge onGrogeot, he will pass it on.'

'What a scandal,' said a stout man on Julien's left: 'a house for whichI'ld have given, myself, eight hundred francs as a factory, and then itwould have been a bargain.'

'Bah!' replied a young Liberal manufacturer, 'isn't M. de Saint-Giraudone of the Congregation? Haven't his four children all got bursaries? Poorman! The town of Verrieres is simply bound to increase his income withan allowance of five hundred francs; that is all.'

'And to think that the Mayor hasn't been able to stop it!' remarked athird. 'For he may be an Ultra, if you like, but he's not a thief.'

'He's not a thief?' put in another; 'it's a regular thieves' kitchen.

Everything goes into a common fund, and is divided up at the end of theyear. But there's young Sorel; let us get away.'

Julien went home in the worst of tempers; he found Madame de Renalgreatly depressed.

'Have you come from the sale?' she said to him.

'Yes, Ma'am, where I had the honour to be taken for the Mayor's spy.'

'If he had taken my advice, he would have gone away somewhere.'

At that moment, M. de Renal appeared; he was very sombre. Dinnerwas eaten in silence. M. de Renal told Julien to accompany the childrento Vergy; they travelled in unbroken gloom. Madame de Renal tried tocomfort her husband.

'Surely you are accustomed to it, my dear.'

That evening, they were seated in silence round the domestic hearth;the crackle of the blazing beech logs was their sole distraction. It was oneof those moments of depression which are to be found in the most unitedfamilies. One of the children uttered a joyful cry.

'There's the bell! The bell!'

'Egad, if it's M. de Saint-Giraud come to get hold of me, on the excuseof thanking me, I shall give him a piece of my mind; it's too bad. It'sValenod that he has to thank, and it is I who am compromised. What amI going to say if those pestilent Jacobin papers get hold of the story, andmake me out a M. Nonante-Cinq?' 3A good-looking man, with bushy black whiskers, entered the room atthis moment in the wake of the servant.

'M. le Maire, I am Signor Geronimo. Here is a letter which M. leChevalier de Beauvaisis, attache at the Embassy at Naples, gave me foryou when I came away; it is only nine days ago,' Signor Geronimo added, with a sprightly air, looking at Madame de Renal. 'Signor deBeauvaisis, your cousin, and my good friend, Madame, tells me that youknow Italian.'

The good humour of the Neapolitan changed this dull evening intoone that was extremely gay. Madame de Renal insisted upon his takingsupper. She turned the whole house upside down; she wished at all coststo distract Julien's thoughts from the description of him as a spy whichtwice in that day he had heard ringing in his ear. Signer Geronimo was afamous singer, a man used to good company, and at the same time thebest of company himself, qualities which, in France, have almost ceasedto be compatible. He sang after supper a little duet with Madame de3.M. Marsan explains this allusion to a satire by Barthelemy at the expense of theMarseilles magistrate Merindol, who in sentencing him to a fine had made use of theCommon Southern expression 'Nonante-cinq' for 'Quatre-vingt-quinze.

Renal. He told charming stories. At one o'clock in the morning the children protested when Julien proposed that they should go to bed.

'Just this story,' said the eldest.

'It is my own, Signorino,' replied Signer Geronimo. 'Eight years ago Iwas, like you, a young scholar in the Conservatorio of Naples, by which Imean that I was your age; for I had not the honour to be the son of theeminent Mayor of the beautiful town of Verrieres.'

This allusion drew a sigh from M. de Renal, who looked at his wife.

'Signer Zingarelli,' went on the young singer, speaking with a slightlyexaggerated accent which made the children burst out laughing, 'SignorZingarelli is an exceedingly severe master. He is not loved at the Conservatorio; but he makes them act always as though they loved him. I escaped whenever I could; I used to go to the little theatre of San Carlino,where I used to hear music fit for the gods: but, O heavens, how was I toscrape together the eight soldi which were the price of admission to thepit? An enormous sum,' he said, looking at the children, and the childrenlaughed again. 'Signer Giovannone, the Director of San Carlino, heardme sing. I was sixteen years old. "This boy is a treasure," he said.

'"Would you like me to engage you, my friend?" he said to me one day.

'"How much will you give me?"'"Forty ducats a month." That, gentlemen, is one hundred and sixtyfrancs. I seemed to see the heavens open.

'"But how," I said to Giovannone, "am I to persuade the strictZingarelli to let me go?"'"Lascia fare a me."'

'Leave it to me!' cried the eldest of the children.

'Precisely, young Sir. Signor Giovannone said to me: "First of all, caro,alittle agreement." I signed the paper: he gave me three ducats. I had never seen so much money. Then he told me what I must do.

'Next day, I demanded an interview with the terrible Signer Zingarelli.

His old servant showed me into the room.

'"What do you want with me, you scapegrace?" said Zingarelli.

'"Maestro" I told him, "I repent of my misdeeds; never again will Ibreak out of the Conservatorio by climbing over the iron railings. I amgoing to study twice as hard."'"If I were not afraid of spoiling the finest bass voice I have ever heard,I should lock you up on bread and water for a fortnight, you scoundrel." '"Maestro" I went on, "I am going to be a model to the whole school,credete a me. But I ask one favour of you, if anyone comes to ask for me tosing outside, refuse him. Please say that you cannot allow it."'"And who do you suppose is going to ask for a good for nothing likeyou? Do you think I shall ever allow you to leave the Conservatorio? Doyou wish to make a fool of me? Off with you, off with you!" he said, aiming a kick at my hindquarters, "or it will be bread and water in a cell."'An hour later, Signer Giovannone came to call on the Director.

'"I have come to ask you to make my fortune," he began, "let me haveGeronimo. If he sings in my theatre this winter I give my daughter inmarriage."'"What do you propose to do with the rascal?" Zingarelli asked him. "Iwon't allow it. You shan't have him; besides, even if I consented, hewould never be willing to leave the Conservatorio; he's just told me sohimself."'"If his willingness is all that matters," said Giovannone gravely, producing my agreement from his pocket, "carta canta! Here is hissignature."'Immediately Zingarelli, furious, flew to the bell-rope: "Turn Geronimoout of the Conservatorio," he shouted, seething with rage. So out theyturned me, I splitting my sides with laughter. That same evening, I sangthe aria del Moltiplico. Polichinelle intends to marry, and counts up on hisfingers the different things he will need for the house, and loses countafresh at every moment.'

'Oh, won't you, Sir, please sing us that air?' said Madame de Renal.

Geronimo sang, and his audience all cried with laughter.

Signor Geronimo did not go to bed until two in the morning, leavingthe family enchanted with his good manners, his obliging nature and hisgay spirits.

Next day M. and Madame de Renal gave him the letters which he required for the French Court.

'And so, falsehood everywhere,' said Julien. 'There is Signor Geronimoon his way to London with a salary of sixty thousand francs. But for thecleverness of the Director of San Carlino, his divine voice might not havebeen known and admired for another ten years, perhaps ... Upon mysoul, I would rather be a Geronimo than a Renal. He is not so highly honoured in society, but he has not the humiliation of having to grant leaseslike that one today, and his is a merry life.'

One thing astonished Julien: the weeks of solitude spent at Verrieres,in M. de Renal's house, had been for him a time of happiness. He had encountered disgust and gloomy thoughts only at the dinners to which hehad been invited; in that empty house, was he not free to read, write,meditate, undisturbed? He had not been aroused at every moment fromhis radiant dreams by the cruel necessity of studying the motions of abase soul, and that in order to deceive it by hypocritical words or actions.

'Could happiness be thus within my reach? ... The cost of such a life isnothing; I can, as I choose, marry Miss Elisa, or become Fouque's partner ... But the traveller who has just climbed a steep mountain, sits downon the summit, and finds a perfect pleasure in resting. Would he behappy if he were forced to rest always?'

Madame de Renal's mind was a prey to carking thoughts. In spite ofher resolve to the contrary, she had revealed to Julien the whole businessof the lease. 'So he will make me forget all my vows!' she thought.

She would have given her life without hesitation to save that of herhusband, had she seen him in peril. Hers was one of those noble and romantic natures, for which to see the possibility of a generous action, andnot to perform it gives rise to a remorse almost equal to that which onefeels for a past crime. Nevertheless, there were dreadful days on whichshe could not banish the thought of the absolute happiness which shewould enjoy, if, suddenly left a widow, she were free to marry Julien.

He loved her children far more than their father; in spite of his strictdiscipline, he was adored by them. She was well aware that, if she married Julien, she would have to leave this Vergy whose leafy shade was sodear to her. She pictured herself living in Paris, continuing to provideher sons with that education at which everyone marvelled. Her children,she herself, Julien, all perfectly happy.

A strange effect of marriage, such as the nineteenth century has madeit! The boredom of married life inevitably destroys love, when love haspreceded marriage. And yet, as a philosopher has observed, it speedilybrings about, among people who are rich enough not to have to work, anintense boredom with all quiet forms of enjoyment. And it is only driedup hearts, among women, that it does not predispose to love.

The philosopher's observation makes me excuse Madame de Renal,but there was no excuse for her at Verrieres, and the whole town,without her suspecting it, was exclusively occupied with the scandal ofher love. Thanks to this great scandal, people that autumn were lessbored than usual.

The autumn, the first weeks of winter had soon come and gone. It wastime to leave the woods of Vergy. The high society of Verrieres began togrow indignant that its anathemas were making so little impressionupon M. de Renal. In less than a week, certain grave personages whomade up for their habitual solemnity by giving themselves the pleasureof fulfilling missions of this sort, implanted in him the most cruel suspicions, but without going beyond the most measured terms.

M. Valenod, who was playing a close game, had placed Elisa with anoble and highly respected family, which included five women. Elisafearing, she said, that she might not find a place during the winter, hadasked this family for only about two thirds of what she was receiving atthe Mayor's. Of her own accord, the girl had the excellent idea of goingto confess to the retired cure Chelan as well as to the new cure, so as tobe able to give them both a detailed account of Julien's amours.

On the morning after his return, at six o'clock, the abbe Chelan sent forJulien:

'I ask you nothing,' he said to him; 'I beg you, and if need be order youto tell me nothing, I insist that within three days you leave either for theSeminary at Besancon or for the house of your friend Fouque, who is stillwilling to provide a splendid career for you. I have foreseen and settledeverything, but you must go, and not return to Verrieres for a year.'

Julien made no answer; he was considering whether his honour oughtto take offence at the arrangements which M. Chelan, who after all wasnot his father, had made for him.

'Tomorrow at this hour I shall have the honour of seeing you again,' hesaid at length to the cure.

M. Chelan, who reckoned upon overcoming the young man by mainforce, spoke volubly. His attitude, his features composed in the utmosthumility, Julien did not open his mouth.

At length he made his escape, and hastened to inform Madame deRenal, whom he found in despair. Her husband had just been speakingto her with a certain frankness. The natural weakness of his character,seeking encouragement in the prospect of the inheritance from Besancon,had made him decide to regard her as entirely innocent. He had just confessed to her the strange condition in which he found public opinion atVerrieres. The public were wrong, had been led astray by envious ill-wishers, but what was to be done?

Madame de Renal had the momentary illusion that Julien might beable to accept M. Valenod's offer, and remain at Verrieres. But she wasno longer the simple, timid woman of the previous year; her fatal passion, her spells of remorse had enlightened her. Soon she had to bear themisery of proving to herself, while she listened to her husband, that aseparation, at any rate for the time being, was now indispensable. 'Awayfrom me, Julien will drift back into those ambitious projects that are sonatural when one has nothing. And I, great God! I am so rich, and sopowerless to secure my own happiness! He will forget me. Charming ashe is, he will be loved, he will love. Ah, unhappy woman! Of what can Icomplain? Heaven is just, I have not acquired merit by putting a stop tomy crime; it blinds my judgment. It rested with me alone to win over Elisa with a bribe, nothing would have been easier. I did not take thetrouble to reflect for a moment, the wild imaginings of love absorbed allmy time. And now I perish.'

One thing struck Julien; as he conveyed to Madame de Renal the terrible news of his departure, he was met with no selfish objection.

Evidently she was making an effort not to cry.

'We require firmness, my friend.'

She cut off a lock of her hair.

'I do not know what is to become of me,' she said to him, 'but if I die,promise me that you will never forget my children. Far or near, try tomake them grow up honourable men. If there is another revolution, allthe nobles will be murdered, their father may emigrate, perhaps, becauseof that peasant who was killed upon a roof. Watch over the family ...Give me your hand. Farewell, my friend! These are our last moments together. This great sacrifice made, I hope that in public I shall have thecourage to think of my reputation.'

Julien had been expecting despair. The simplicity of this farewelltouched him.

'No, I do not accept your farewell thus. I shall go; they wish it; youwish it yourself. But, three days after my departure, I shall return to visityou by night.'

Madame de Renal's existence was changed. So Julien really did loveher since he had had the idea, of his own accord, of seeing her again. Herbitter grief changed into one of the keenest bursts of joy that she had everfelt in her life. Everything became easy to her. The certainty of seeing herlover again took from these last moments all their lacerating force. From that instant the conduct, like the features of Madame de Renal was noble,firm, and perfectly conventional.

M. de Renal presently returned; he was beside himself. For the firsttime he mentioned to his wife the anonymous letter which he had received two months earlier.

'I intend to take it to the Casino, to show them all that it comes fromthat wretch Valenod, whom I picked up out of the gutter and made intoone of the richest citizens of Verrieres. I shall disgrace him publicly, andthen fight him. It is going too far.'

'I might be left a widow, great God!' thought Madame de Renal. But almost at the same instant she said to herself: 'If I do not prevent this duel,as I certainly can, I shall be my husband's murderess.'

Never before had she handled his vanity with so much skill. In lessthan two hours she made him see, always by the use of arguments thathad occurred first to him, that he must show himself friendlier than evertowards M. Valenod, and even take Elisa into the house again. Madamede Renal required courage to make up her mind to set eyes on this girl,the cause of all her troubles. But the idea had come to her from Julien.

Finally, after having been set three or four times in the right direction,M. de Renal arrived of his own accord at the idea (highly distressing,from the financial point of view) that the most unpleasant thing thatcould happen for himself was that Julien, amid the seething excitementand gossip of the whole of Verrieres, should remain there as tutor to M.

Valenod's children. It was obviously in Julien's interest to accept the offermade him by the Governor of the Poorhouse. It was essential however toM. de Renal's fair fame that Julien should leave Verrieres to enter theseminary at Besancon or at Dijon. But how was he to be made to agree,and after that how was he to maintain himself there?

M. de Renal, seeing the imminence of a pecuniary sacrifice, was ingreater despair than his wife. For her part, after this conversation, shewas in the position of a man of feeling who, weary of life, has taken adose of stramonium; he ceases to act, save, so to speak, automatically, andno longer takes an interest in anything. Thus Louis XIV on his deathbedwas led to say: 'When I was king.' An admirable speech!

On the morrow, at break of day, M. de Renal received an anonymousletter. It was couched in the most insulting style. The coarsest words applicable to his position stared from every line. It was the work of someenvious subordinate. This letter brought him back to the thought offighting a duel with M. Valenod. Soon his courage had risen to the idea of an immediate execution of his design. He left the house unaccompanied, and went to the gunsmith's to procure a brace of pistols, which hetold the man to load.

'After all,' he said to himself, 'should the drastic rule of the EmperorNapoleon be restored, I myself could not be charged with the misappropriation of a halfpenny. At the most I have shut my eyes; but I haveplenty of letters in my desk authorising me to do so.'

Madame de Renal was frightened by her husband's cold anger, itbrought back to her mind the fatal thought of widowhood, which shefound it so hard to banish. She shut herself up with him. For hours onend she pleaded with him in vain, the latest anonymous letter had determined him. At length she succeeded in transforming the courage required to strike M. Valenod into that required to offer Julien six hundredfrancs for his maintenance for one year in a Seminary. M. de Renal, heaping a thousand curses on the day on which he had conceived the fatalidea of taking a tutor into his household, forgot the anonymous letter.

He found a grain of comfort in an idea which he did not communicateto his wife: by skilful handling, and by taking advantage of the youngman's romantic ideas, he hoped to bind him, for a smaller sum, to refuseM. Valenod's offers.

Madame de Renal found it far harder to prove to Julien that, if he sacrificed to her husband's convenience a post worth eight hundred francs,publicly offered him by the Governor of the Poorhouse, he mightwithout blushing accept some compensation.

'But,' Julien continued to object, 'I have never had, even for a moment,the slightest thought of accepting that offer. You have made me too familiar with a life of refinement, the vulgarity of those people would killme.'

Cruel necessity, with its hand of iron, bent Julien's will. His prideoffered him the self-deception of accepting only as a loan the sumoffered by the Mayor of Verrieres, and giving him a note of hand promising repayment with interest after five years.

Madame de Renal had still some thousands of francs hidden in thelittle cave in the mountains.

She offered him these, trembling, and feeling only too sure that theywould be rejected with fury.

'Do you wish,' Julien asked her, 'to make the memory of our loveabominable?'

At length Julien left Verrieres. M. de Renal was overjoyed; at the decisive moment of accepting money from him, this sacrifice proved to be toogreat for Julien. He refused point-blank. M. de Renal fell upon his neck,with tears in his eyes. Julien having asked him for a testimonial to hischaracter, he could not in his enthusiasm find terms laudatory enough toextol the young man's conduct. Our hero had saved up five louis and intended to ask Fouque for a similar amount.

He was greatly moved. But when he had gone a league from Verrieres,where he was leaving such a treasure of love behind him, he thoughtonly of the pleasure of seeing a capital, a great military centre likeBesancon.

During this short parting of three days, Madame de Renal was dupedby one of love's most cruel illusions. Her life was tolerable enough, therewas between her and the last extremes of misery this final meeting thatshe was still to have with Julien.

She counted the hours, the minutes that divided her from it. Finally,during the night that followed the third day, she heard in the distancethe signal arranged between them. Having surmounted a thousand perils, Julien appeared before her.

>

From that moment, she had but a single thought: 'I am looking at younow for the last time.' Far from responding to her lover's eagerness, shewas like a barely animated corpse. If she forced herself to tell him thatshe loved him, it was with an awkward air that was almost a proof to thecontrary. Nothing could take her mind from the cruel thought of eternalseparation. The suspicious Julien fancied for a moment that she hadalready forgotten him. His hints at such a possibility were received onlywith huge tears that flowed in silence, and with a convulsive pressure ofhis hand.

'But, Great God! How do you expect me to believe you?' was Julien'sreply to his mistress's chill protestations. 'You would show a hundredtimes more of sincere affection to Madame Derville, to a mereacquaintance.'

Madame de Renal, petrified, did not know how to answer.

'It would be impossible for a woman to be more wretched ... I hope Iam going to die ... I feel my heart freezing ... '

Such were the longest answers he was able to extract from her.

When the approach of day made his departure necessary, Madame deRenal's tears ceased all at once. She saw him fasten a knotted cord to thewindow without saying a word, without returning his kisses. In vainmight Julien say to her:

'At last we have reached the state for which you so longed. Henceforward you will live without remorse. At the slightest indisposition of oneof your children, you will no longer see them already in the grave.'

'I am sorry you could not say good-bye to Stanislas,' she said to himcoldly.

In the end, Julien was deeply impressed by the embraces, in whichthere was no warmth, of this living corpse; he could think of nothing elsefor some leagues. His spirit was crushed, and before crossing the pass, solong as he was able to see the steeple of Verrieres church, he turnedround often.