The Tyranny of a GirlI admire her beauty, but I fear her intelligence.

　　MERIMEEHad Julien devoted to the consideration of what went on in thedrawing-room the time which he spent in exaggerating Mathilde'sbeauty, or in lashing himself into a fury at the aloofness natural to herfamily, whom she was forgetting in his company, he would have understood in what her despotic power over everyone round about her consisted. Whenever anyone earned Mademoiselle de La Mole's displeasure,she knew how to punish him by a witticism so calculated, so wellchosen, apparently so harmless, so aptly launched, that the wound it leftdeepened the more he thought of it. In time she became deadly towounded vanity. As she attached no importance to many things thatwere the object of serious ambition with the rest of her family, she always appeared cool in their eyes. The drawing-rooms of the nobility arepleasant things to mention after one has left them, but that is all; bare politeness is something in itself only for the first few days. Julien experienced this; after the first enchantment, the first bewilderment.

　　'Politeness,' he said to himself, 'is nothing more than the absence of theirritation which would come from bad manners.' Mathilde was frequently bored, perhaps she would have been bored in any circumstances. At such times to sharpen the point of an epigram was for her adistraction and a real pleasure.

　　It was perhaps in order to have victims slightly more amusing thanher distinguished relatives, the Academician and the five or six other inferiors who formed their court, that she had given grounds for hope tothe Marquis de Croisenois, the Comte de Caylus and two or three otheryoung men of the highest distinction. They were nothing more to herthan fresh subjects for epigram.

　　 We confess with sorrow, for we are fond of Mathilde, that she had received letters from several of their number, and had occasionallyanswered them. We hasten to add that this character in our story formsan exception to the habits of the age. It is not, generally speaking, withwant of prudence that one can reproach the pupils of the noble Conventof the Sacre-Coeur.

　　One day the Marquis de Croisenois returned to Mathilde a distinctlycompromising letter which she had written him the day before. Hethought that by this sign of extreme prudence he was greatly strengthening his position. But imprudence was what Mathilde enjoyed in her correspondence. It was her chief pleasure to play with fire. She did notspeak to him again for six weeks.

　　She amused herself with the letters of these young men; but, accordingto her, they were all alike. It was always the most profound, the mostmelancholy passion.

　　'They are all the same perfect gentlemen, ready to set off for Palestine,'

　　she said to her cousin. 'Can you think of anything more insipid? Thinkthat this is the sort of letter that I am going to receive for the rest of mylife! These letters can only change every twenty years, according to thekind of occupation that is in fashion. They must have been less colourlessin the days of the Empire. Then all these young men in society had seenor performed actions in which there was real greatness. The Due deN——, my uncle, fought at Wagram.'

　　'What intelligence is required to wield a sabre? And when that hashappened to them, they talk about it so often!' said Mademoiselle deSainte-Heredite, Mathilde's cousin.

　　'Oh, well, those stories amuse me. To have been in a real battle, one ofNapoleon's battles, in which ten thousand soldiers were killed, is a proofof courage. Exposing oneself to danger elevates the soul, and saves itfrom the boredom in which all my poor adorers seem to be plunged; andit is contagious, that boredom. Which of them ever dreams of doing anything out of the common? They seek to win my hand, a fine enterprise! Iam rich, and my father will help on his son-in-law. Oh, if only he couldfind one who was at all amusing!'

　　Mathilde's vivid, picturesque point of view affected her speech, as wecan see. Often something she said jarred on the refined nerves of herhighly polished friends. They would almost have admitted, had she beenless in the fashion, that there was something in her language a little toohighly coloured for feminine delicacy.

............