AmbitionThere is only one true nobility left; namely, the title of Duke; Marquis is absurd, at the word Duke one turns one's head.

　　The Edinburgh Review7The Marquis de La Mole received the abbe Pirard without any of thoselittle mannerisms of a great gentleman, outwardly so polite, but so impertinent to him who understands them. It would have been a waste oftime, and the Marquis was so far immersed in public business as to haveno time to waste.

　　For six months he had been intriguing to make both King and nationaccept a certain Ministry, which, as a mark of gratitude, would make hima Duke.

　　The Marquis had appealed in vain, year after year, to his lawyer atBesancon for a clear and definite report on his lawsuits in the Franche-Comte. How was the eminent lawyer to explain them to him, if he didnot understand them himself?

　　The little slip of paper which the abbe gave him explained everything.

　　'My dear abbe,' said the Marquis, after polishing off in less than fiveminutes all the polite formulas and personal inquiries, 'my dear abbe, inthe midst of my supposed prosperity, I lack the time to occupy myselfseriously with two little matters which nevertheless are of considerableimportance: my family and my affairs. I take the greatest interest in thefortunes of my house, I may carry it far; I look after my pleasures, andthat is what must come before everything else, at least in my eyes,' hewent on, noticing the astonishment in the eyes of the abbe Pirard. Although a man of sense, the abbe was amazed to see an old man talkingso openly of his pleasures.

　　7.I have translated this motto, which is quoted in French by Stendahl, but have notbeen able to find the original passage in the Edinburgh Review. C. K. S. M.

　　 'Work does no doubt exist in Paris,' the great nobleman continued, 'butperched in the attics; and as soon as I come in contact with a man, hetakes an apartment on the second floor, and his wife starts a day; consequently, no more work, no effort except to be or to appear to be a manof fashion. That is their sole interest once they are provided with bread.

　　'For my lawsuits, to be strictly accurate, and also for each lawsuit separately, I have lawyers who work themselves to death; one of them diedof consumption, the day before yesterday. But, for my affairs in general,would you believe, Sir, that for the last three years I have given up hopeof finding a man who, while he is writing for me, will deign to think alittle seriously of what he is doing. However, all this is only a preamble.

　　'I respect you, and, I would venture to add, although we meet for thefirst time, I like you. Will you be my secretary, with a salary of eightthousand francs, or indeed twice that sum? I shall gain even more, I assure you; and I shall make it my business to keep your fine living foryou, for the day on which we cease to agree.'

　　The abbe declined, but towards the end of the conversation, the sightof the Marquis's genuine embarrassment suggested an idea to him.

　　'I have left down in my Seminary a poor young man who, if I be notmistaken, is going to be brutally persecuted. If he were only a simplemonk he would be already in pace.

　　'At present this young man knows only Latin and the Holy Scriptures;but it is by no means impossible that one day he may display great talent, either for preaching or for the guidance of souls. I do not know whathe will do; but he has the sacred fire, he may go far. I intended to givehim to our Bishop, should one ever be sent to us who had something ofyour way of looking at men and affairs.'

　　'What is your young man's origin?' said the Marquis.

　　'He is said to be the son of a carpenter in our mountains, but I am inclined to believe that he is the natural son of some rich man. I have seenhim receive an anonymous or pseudonymous letter containing a bill ofexchange for five hundred francs.'

　　'Ah! It is Julien Sorel,' said the Marquis.

　　'How do you know his name?' asked the astonished abbe; and, as hewas blushing at his own question:

　　'That is what I am not going to tell you,' replied the Marquis.

　　 'Very well!' the abbe went on, 'you might try making him your secretary, he has energy, and judgment; in short, it is an experiment worthtrying.'

　　'Why not?' said the Marquis; 'but would he be the sort of man to let hispalm be greased by the Prefect of Police or by anyone else, to play thespy on me? That is my only objection.'

　　Receiving favourable assurances from the abbe Pirard, the Marquisproduced a note for one thousand francs:

　　'Send this to Julien Sorel for his journey; tell him to come to me.'

　　'One can see,' said the abbe Pirard, 'that you live in Paris! You are unaware of the tyranny that weighs upon us poor provincials, and especially upon priests who are not on good terms with the Jesuits. They willnever allow Julien Sorel to leave, they will manage to cover themselveswith the cleverest excuses, they will reply that he is ill, letters will havegone astray in the post,' etc., etc.

　　'One of these days I shall procure a letter from the Minister to the Bishop,' said the Marquis.

　　'I was forgetting one thing,' said the abbe: 'this young man, althoughof quite humble birth, has a proud heart, he will be of no use to you if hispride is offended; you will only make him stupid.'

　　'I like that,' said the Marquis, 'I shall make him my son's companion,will that do?'

　　Some time after this, Julien received a letter in an unknown hand andbearing the postmark of Chalons, and found a draft upon a merchant inBesancon and instructions to proceed to Paris without delay. The letterwas signed with an assumed name, but as he opened it Julien trembled:

　　a leaf from a tree had fallen out at his feet; it was the signal arrangedbetween him and the abbe Pirard.

　　Within an hour, Julien was summoned to the Bishop's Palace, wherehe found himself greeted with a wholly fatherly welcome. Interspersedwith quotations from Horace, Monseigneur paid him, with regard to theexalted destiny that awaited him in Paris, a number of very neat compliments, which required an explanation if he were to express his thanks.

　　Julien could say nothing, chiefly because he knew nothing, and Monseigneur showed a high regard for him. One of the minor clergy of thePalace wrote to the Mayor who made haste to appear in person bringinga passport already signed, but with a blank space for the name of thetraveller.

　　 Before midnight, Julien was with Fouque, whose sober mind was moreastonished than delighted by the future which seemed to be in store forhis friend.

　　'The end of it will be,' said this Liberal elector, 'a post under Government, which will oblige you to take some action that will be pilloried inthe newspapers. It will be through your disgrace that I shall have newsof you. Remember that, even financially speaking, it is better to earn onehundred louis in an honest trade in timber, where you are your ownmaster, than to receive four thousand francs from a Government, were itthat of King Solomon himself.'

　　Julien saw no more in this than the pettiness of a rustic mind. He wasat last going to appear on the stage of great events. The good fortune ofgoing to Paris, which he peopled in his imagination with men of intelligence, great intriguers, great hypocrites, but as courteous as the Bishopof Besancon and the Bishop of Agde, eclipsed everything else in his eyes.

　　He represented himself to his friend as deprived of his free will by theabbe Pirard's letter.

　　Towards noon on the following day he arrived in Verrieres the happiest of men, he reckoned upon seeing Madame de Renal again. He wentfirst of all to his original protector, the good abbe Chelan. He met with astern reception.

　　'Do you consider that you are under any obligation to me?' said M.

　　Chelan, without acknowledging his greeting. 'You will take luncheonwith me, meanwhile another horse will be hired for you, and you willleave Verrieres, without seeing anyone.'

　　'To hear is to obey,' replied Julien, with the prim face of a seminarist;and there was no further discussion save of theology and Latinscholarship.

　　He mounted his horse, rode a league, after which, coming upon awood, with no one to see him enter it, he hid himself there. At sunset hesent the horse back. Later on, he entered the house of a peasant, whoagreed to sell him a ladder, and to go with him, carrying the ladder, tothe little wood that overhung the Cours de la Fidelite, in Verrieres.

　　'We are a poor conscript deserting—or a smuggler,' said the peasant,as he took leave of him, 'but what do I care? My ladder is well paid for,and I myself have had to pass some awkward moments in my life.'

　　The night was very dark. About one o'clock in the morning, Julien, carrying his ladder, made his way into Verrieres. He climbed down as soon as he could into the bed of the torrent, which ran through M. de Renal'smagnificent gardens at a depth of ten feet, and confined between walls.

　　Julien climbed up easily by his ladder. 'What sort of greeting will thewatch-dogs give me?' he wondered. 'That is the whole question.' Thedogs barked, and rushed towards him; but he whistled softly, and theycame and fawned upon him.

　　Then climbing from terrace to terrace, although all the gates were shut,he had no difficulty in arriving immediately beneath the window of Madame de Renal's bedroom, which, on the garden side, was no more thannine or ten feet above the ground.

　　There was in the shutters a small opening in the shape of a heart,which Julien knew well. To his great dismay, this little opening was notlighted by the glimmer of a nightlight within.

　　'Great God!' he said to himself; 'tonight, of all nights, this room is notoccupied by Madame de Renal! Where can she be sleeping? The familyare at Verrieres, since I found the dogs here; but I may in this room,without a light, come upon M. de Renal himself or a stranger, and thenwhat a scandal!'

　　The most prudent course was to retire; but the idea filled Julien withhorror. 'If it is a stranger, I shall make off as fast as my legs will carry me,leaving my ladder behind; but if it is she, what sort of welcome awaitsme? She is steeped in repentance and the most extreme piety, I may besure of that; but after all, she has still some memory of me, since she hasjust written to me.' With this argument he made up his mind.

　　His heart trembling, but determined nevertheless to see her or to perish, he flung a handful of gravel against the shutter; no reply. He placedhis ladder against the wall by the side of the window and tapped himselfon the shutter, softly at first then more loudly. 'Dark as it is, they mayfire a gun at me,' thought Julien. This thought reduced his mad undertaking to a question of physical courage.

　　'This room is unoccupied tonight,' he thought, 'or else whoever it isthat is sleeping here is awake by this time. So there is no need for anyfurther precaution here; all I need think of is not making myself heard bythe people who are sleeping in the other rooms.'

　　He stepped down, placed his ladder against one of the shutters,climbed up again and passing his hand through the heart-shaped opening, was fortunate in finding almost at once the wire fastened to the latchthat closed the shutter. He pulled this wire; it was with an unspeakablejoy that he felt that the shutter was no longer closed and was yielding to his efforts. 'I must open it little by little and let her recognise my voice.'

　　He opened the shutter sufficiently to pass his head through the gap, repeating in a whisper: 'It is a friend.'

　　He made certain, by applying his ear, that nothing broke the profoundsilence in the room. But decidedly, there was no nightlight, even half extinguished, on the hearth; this was indeed a bad sign.

　　'Beware of a gunshot!' He thought for a moment; then, with one finger,ventured to tap the pane: no response; he tapped more loudly. 'Even if Ibreak the glass, I must settle this business.' As he was knocking hard, hethought he could just make out, in the pitch darkness, something like awhite phantom coming across the room. In a moment, there was nodoubt about it, he did see a phantom which seemed to be advancingwith extreme slowness. Suddenly he saw a cheek pressed to the pane towhich his eye was applied.

　　He shuddered, and recoiled slightly. But the night was so dark that,even at this close range, he could not make out whether it was Madamede Renal. He feared an instinctive cry of alarm; he could hear the dogsprowling with muttered growls round the foot of his ladder. 'It is I,' herepeated, quite loudly, 'a friend.' No answer; the white phantom hadvanished. 'For pity's sake, open the window. I must speak to you, I amtoo wretched!' and he knocked until the window nearly broke.

　　A little sharp sound was heard; the catch of the window gave way; hepushed it open and sprang lightly into the room.

　　The white phantom moved away; he seized it by the arms; it was awoman. All his ideas of courage melted. 'If it is she, what will she say tome?' What was his state when he realised from a faint cry that it was Madame de Renal.

　　He gathered her in his arms; she trembled, and had barely the strengthto repulse him.

　　'Wretch! What are you doing?'

　　Scarcely could her tremulous voice articulate the words. Julien sawthat she was genuinely angry.

　　'I have come to see you after fourteen months of a cruel parting.'

　　'Go, leave me this instant. Ah! M. Chelan, why did you forbid me towrite to him? I should have prevented this horror.' She thrust him fromher with a force that was indeed extraordinary. 'I repent of my crime;heaven has deigned to enlighten me,' she repeated in a stifled voice. 'Go!

　　Fly!'

　　 'After fourteen months of misery, I shall certainly not leave you until Ihave spoken to you. I wish to know all that you have been doing. Ah! Ihave loved you well enough to deserve this confidence … I wish to knowall.'

　　In spite of herself Madame de Renal felt this tone of authority exert itsinfluence over her heart.

　　Julien, who was holding her in a passionate embrace, and resisting herefforts to liberate herself, ceased to press her in his arms. This relaxationhelped to reassure Madame de Renal.

　　'I am going to draw up the ladder,' he said, 'so that it may not compromise us if one of the servants, awakened by the noise, goes therounds.'

　　'Ah! Leave me, leave me rather,' the answer came with unfeigned anger. 'What do men matter to me? It is God that sees the terrible wrongyou are doing me, and will punish me for it. You are taking a cowardlyadvantage of the regard that I once felt for you, but no longer feel. Doyou hear, Master Julien?'

　　He drew up the ladder very slowly, so as not to make any noise.

　　'Is your husband in town?' he asked, not to defy her, but from force ofhabit.

　　'Do not speak to me so, for pity's sake, or I shall call my husband. I amall too guilty already of not having sent you away, at any cost. I pityyou,' she told him, seeking to wound his pride which she knew to be soirritable.

　　Her refusal to use the tu form, that abrupt method of breaking sotender a bond, and one upon which he still reckoned, roused Julien'samorous transport to a frenzy.

　　'What! Is it possible that you no longer love me!' he said to her, inthose accents of the heart to which it is so difficult to listen unmoved.

　　She made no reply; as for him, he was weeping bitter tears.

　　Really, he had no longer the strength to speak.

　　'And so I am completely forgotten by the one person who has everloved me! What use to live any longer?' All his courage had left him assoon as he no longer had to fear the danger of encountering a man;everything had vanished from his heart, save love.

　　He wept for a long time in silence. He took her hand, she tried to withdraw it; and yet, after a few almost convulsive movements, she let him keep it. The darkness was intense; they found themselves both seatedupon Madame de Renal's bed.

　　'What a difference from the state of things fourteen months ago!'

　　thought Julien, and his flow of tears increased. 'So absence unfailinglydestroys all human feelings!

　　'Be so kind as to tell me what has happened to you,' Julien said atlength, embarrassed by his silence and in a voice almost stifled by tears.

　　'There can be no doubt,' replied Madame de Renal in a harsh voice, thetone of which offered a cutting reproach to Julien, 'my misdeeds wereknown in the town, at the time of your departure. You were so imprudent in your behaviour. Some time later, when I was in despair, therespectable M. Chelan came to see me. It was in vain that, for a longtime, he sought to obtain a confession. One day, the idea occurred to himto take me into that church at Dijon in which I made my first Communion. There, he ventured to broach the subject… ' Madame de Renal'sspeech was interrupted by her tears. 'What a shameful moment! I confessed all. That worthy man was kind enough not to heap on me theweight of his indignation: he shared my distress. At that time I was writing you day after day letters which I dared not send you; I concealedthem carefully, and when I was too wretched used to shut myself up inmy room and read over my own letters.

　　'At length, M. Chelan persuaded me to hand them over to him …Some of them, written with a little more prudence than the rest, had beensent to you; never once did you answer me.'

　　'Never, I swear to you, did I receive any letter from you at theSeminary.'

　　'Great God! who can have intercepted them?'

　　'Imagine my grief; until the day when I saw you in the Cathedral, I didnot know whether you were still alive.'

　　'God in His mercy made me understand how greatly I was sinningagainst Him, against my children, against my husband,' replied Madamede Renal. 'He has never loved me as I believed then that you loved me …'

　　Julien flung himself into her arms, without any definite intention butwith entire lack of self............