The Red and the Black (42 page)

on the ground, their tilburies will run right over you; they're not
going to risk spoiling their horses' mouths by pulling them up short.'

Twenty times over, Norbert saw
Julien on the verge of failing off; but eventually the ride ended
without an accident. On their return the young count said to his
sister:

'Let me introduce a bold daredevil to you.'

At dinner, speaking to his father from the far end of the table, he
did justice to Julien's boldness; it was all that could be said in
praise of his way of riding a horse. Earlier in the day the young
count had heard the men who were grooming the horses in the courtyard
retailing Julien's fall in order to poke outrageous fun at him.

In spite of so much kindness Julien soon felt himself totally
isolated in the midst of this family. All their customs struck him as
peculiar, and he was always getting things wrong. His blunders were
the delight of the valets.

Father
Pirard had gone off to his parish. If Julien is a frail reed, let him
perish, he thought; if he's a man of character, let him manage on his
own.

-261-

What is he doing here! could he be enjoying himself? might he be aiming to be liked?

RONSARD
^*

IF everything seemed strange to Julien in the noble drawingroom of the
Hôtel de La Mole, the pale young man dressed in black seemed in his
turn most peculiar to the individuals who deigned to notice him. M
^me
de La Mole suggested to her husband that he send him out on business on days when they had important people to dine.

'I'd like to persevere to the end with this experiment,' the marquis
replied. 'Father Pirard claims that we are wrong to shatter the
self-respect of the people we take into our household.
You can only lean on something that offers resistance
,
^*
etc. This fellow is only out of place because he cuts such an unfamiliar figure, and anyway, he's a deaf-mute.'

To get things straight for myself, Julien reflected, I must write
down the names of the people I observe coming to this salon, and make a
note of their characters.

At the top
he put five or six hangers-on who made a point of being nice to him
on the off-chance, believing him to be in favour through a whim of the
marquis's. They were pathetic creatures, more or less spineless; but
it must be said in praise of this class of men to be found nowadays in
the salons of the aristocracy: they were not equally spineless to
everyone. You might well see one of them letting himself be put down
by the marquis, but taking exception to a harsh word addressed to
him by M
^me
de La Mole.

The
masters of the house had too much pride and too much boredom
ingrained in their characters; they were too accustomed to behaving
outrageously in order to dispel boredom for there to be any hope of
their making real friends. But except on rainy days and in moments of
ferocious boredom, which were rare, they were always deemed to be
exquisitely polite.

-262-

If the five or six hangers-on who showed such paternal friendship to
Julien had deserted the Hôtel de La Mole, the marquise would have been
exposed to long bouts of solitude; and in the eyes of women of this
rank, solitude is frightful: it is the emblem of
disgrace
.

The marquis behaved perfectly towards his wife; he made sure that her
salon was adequately adorned; not with peers-he felt his new colleagues
^*
were not noble enough to come to the house as friends, and not amusing enough to be admitted as inferiors.

It was only much later that Julien got to the bottom of these
secrets. High politics, which is a talking point in middle-class
establishments, is only touched upon in those of the marquis's class
in times of distress.

Even in this
weary century, the need to be entertained still holds such sway that
even on days of grand dinners, no sooner had the marquis left the
drawing-room than everyone else fled. Provided there was no joking at
the expense of God, the clergy, the king, the powers that be, artistic
and literary figures currently enjoying favour at Court, or indeed
any part of the establishment; provided that no good word was spoken
for Béranger,
^*
the opposition press, Voltaire, Rousseau, or anything venturing to be
in any way outspoken; provided above all that there was never any
mention of politics, it was permissible to discourse freely on any
subject.
^*

Not even an income of a hundred thousand crowns or a Blue Sash gives
licence to contest a salon charter of this kind. An idea with the
slightest spark in it seemed like a piece of rudeness there. In spite
of the refined taste, the exquisite politeness, the desire to be
agreeable, boredom was stamped on every brow. Young men who came out
of duty, fearful of talking about anything which might arouse the
suspicion that they were thinking, or again of betraying some
forbidden reading-matter, fell silent after one or two elegant remarks
about Rossini and the weather.

Julien observed that the conversation was usually kept alive by two
viscounts and five barons whom M. de La Mole had known during the
Emigration. These gentlemen enjoyed incomes of between six and eight
thousand pounds; four of

-263-

them supported
La Quotidienne
^*
and three
La Gazette de France
. One of them had a daily anecdote to relate from the Court in which the word
admirable
was not spared. Julien noticed that he wore five decorations, while the others on the whole only had three.

On the other hand there were ten footmen in livery to be seen in the
antechamber; and throughout the evening ices or tea were served every
quarter of an hour, and at midnight there was a kind of supper with
champagne.

This was the reason why
Julien sometimes stayed on until the end; in point of fact, he could
scarcely understand how anyone could listen seriously to the usual
conversation in this magnificently gilded drawing-room. Sometimes he
looked at the participants to see whether they mightn't actually be
talking tongue in cheek. Good old Joseph de Maistre, whom I know off
by heart, said it all infinitely better, he thought, and yet he's
boring enough.

Julien was not the
only one to notice the mental asphyxia. Some found consolation in
consuming quantities of ice-cream; others in the pleasure of being
able to say for the rest of the evening: 'I've just come from the
Hôtel de La Mole, where I heard that Russia... etc.'

Julien learned from one of the faithful that less than six months ago M
^me
de La Mole had rewarded assiduous attendance for over twenty years by
making poor Baron Le Bourguignon into a prefect, after he had been a
sub-prefect since the Restoration.

This great event had retempered the zeal of all these gentlemen; they
would have taken offence at trifles before, from now on they never
took offence at anything. Only rarely was the lack of courtesy
blatant, but Julien had already overheard two or three brief little
exchanges at table between the marquis and his wife that were
extremely hurtful to those seated near them. These noble personages
did not conceal their sincere contempt for anyone unconnected with
people who
rode in the king's carriages
.
^*
Julien observed that the word
Crusade
was the only one which brought to their faces an expression of deep
seriousness mingled with respect. Ordinary respect was always tinged
with condescension.

-264-

In the midst of this magnificence and this boredom Julien was
interested in nothing but M. de La Mole; he was pleased to hear him
protest one day that he had had nothing to do with the promotion of
poor Le Bourguignon. This was a way of paying respect to the marquise:
Julien knew the truth from Father Pirard.

One morning when the priest was working with Julien in the marquis's library on the never-ending Frilair lawsuit:

'Father,' said Julien suddenly, 'is it one of my duties to dine with her ladyship, or is it a kindness they are showing me?'

'It's a signal honour!' answered the priest, scandalized. 'Not once
has M. N-----the academician, who has been assiduous in his attentions
for the past fifteen years, been able to obtain it on behalf of his
nephew M. Tanbeau.'

'For me, Father, it's the most irksome part of my job. I was less bored at the seminary. I sometimes even see M
^lle
de La Mole herself yawning, and she at any rate ought to be
accustomed to the civility of the family's friends. I'm afraid of
falling asleep. I beg you, get permission for me to go and dine for
forty sous in some obscure inn.'

Father Pirard, a genuinely self-made man, was highly appreciative of the
honour of dining with a great lord. While he was attempting to make
Julien understand this sentiment, a slight noise made them look round.
Julien saw M
^lle
de La Mole listening. He blushed. She had
come to fetch a book and had heard everything; Julien went up in her
esteem. There's a man who wasn't born on his knees, she thought, like
that old priest. God, he's ugly!

At dinner Julien did not dare look at M
^lle
de La Mole, but she was good enough to speak to him. That day they
were expecting a large party, and she entreated him to stay. Young
ladies in Paris are not very fond of middle-aged company, particularly
if badly dressed. Julien had not needed much sagacity to discern that
M. Le Bourguignon's colleagues who stayed on in the drawing-room had
the distinction of being the usual butt of M
^lle
de La Mole's quips. That day, whether or not she was putting it on, she was merciless to the bores.

M
^lle
de La Mole was the centre of a little group which gathered almost every evening behind the marquise's enor-

-265-

mous wing chair. Among them was the Marquis de Croisenois, the Comte
de Caylus, the Vicomte de Luz and two or three other young officer
friends of Norbert's or his sister's. These gentlemen sat on a large
blue sofa. At the other end of the sofa from where the brilliant
Mathilde sat, Julien would be stationed in silence on a small, rather
low wicker chair. This modest post was envied by all the hangers-on;
Norbert made it acceptable to seat his father's young secretary there
by speaking to him or mentioning his name once or twice in an evening.
That day M
^lle
de La Mole asked him how high the hill was on
which the citadel at Besançon is built. Julien was utterly incapable
of saying whether this hill was higher or lower than Montmartre. He
often laughed with all his heart at the things that were said in this
little group; but he felt incapable of thinking up anything
comparable. It was like a foreign language that he understood but could
not speak.

Mathilde's friends were
doing running battle that day against the people arriving in the vast
drawing-room. Friends of the family were given preference, being
better known. You can just imagine how attentive Julien was:
everything interested him, both the substance of the matter and the
way it was joked about.

'Ah! here's
M. Descoulis,' said Mathilde, 'he isn't wearing his wig any more; is
he wishing to get the post of prefect through sheer genius? He's
putting that bald forehead of his on show, which he says is full of
lofty thoughts.'

'He's a man who
knows the whole world,' said the Marquis de Croisenois; 'he also
frequents my uncle the cardinal. He's capable of keeping up a lie with
each one of his friends for years on end, and he's got two or three
hundred friends. He knows how to nurture friendship, it's his special
talent. As sure as you see him there, by seven in the morning in
winter he's already covered in filth from standing on the doorstep of
some friend or other.

'He has a
quarrel from time to time, and writes seven or eight letters for this
tiff. Then he makes it up, and does seven or eight letters for his
effusions of friendship. But where he really excels is in the frank
and sincere outpourings of the gentleman who bears no grudges. This
ploy surfaces when he

-266-

has some service to request. One of my uncle's vicars-general is
wonderful when he describes M. Descoulis's life since the Restoration.
I'll bring him along for you.'

'Bah!
I wouldn't believe that sort of thing; it's professional jealousy
among the lower orders,' said the Comte de Caylus. 'M. Descoulis will
go down in history,' went on the marquis; 'he took part in the
Restoration with the Abbé de Pradt,
^*
M. de Talleyrand and M. Pozzo di Borgo.'

'The man has had millions passing through his hands,' said Norbert,
'and I can't imagine he comes here to rake in my father's witticisms,
which are often abominable. "How many times have you betrayed your
friends, my dear Descoulis?" he shouted to him the other day from the
far end of the table.'

'But is it true that he's betrayed people?' said M
^lle
de La Mole. 'Who hasn't?'

'What's this?' said the Comte de Caylus to Norbert, 'you're
entertaining M. Sainclair in your house, the notorious liberal; and
what the devil does he come here for? I must go over and speak to him,
and get him talking; they say he's so witty.'

'But how will he go down with your mother?' said M. de Croisenois.
'His ideas are so extravagant, so generous, so independent...'

'Just look,' said M
^lle
de La Mole, 'there's the independent fellow bowing and scraping to M.
Descoulis, and grasping his hand. I almost thought he was going to
raise it to his lips.'

' Descoulis must be more in with the Government than we thought,' M. de Croisenois replied.

' Sainclair comes here to get into the Academy,' said Norbert; 'look
at him, Croisenois, look at him greeting the Baron L-----.'

'He'd be less base going down on his knees,' added M. de Luz.

'My dear Sorel,' said Norbert, 'you who have wits, but have only just
come up to Paris from your mountains: try never to greet anyone the
way that great poet
^*
does, were he God the Father himself.'

'Ah! here's the man of wit to end all wit, his lordship the Baron Bâton,' said M
^lle
de La Mole, lightly mimicking the footman who had just announced him.

-267-