The Red and the Black by Stendhal Page A

could very easily become a barrister in Bray, the
sub-prefecture two leagues * away from Verrières; in which case she would see him from time to time.
    M me de Rênal genuinely believed that she was going to go mad; she told
her husband, and eventually fell ill. That very evening, while her
maid was attending to her, she noticed that the girl was crying. She
loathed Elisa at the time, and had just been short with her; she
apologized for it. Elisa's tears only increased; she said that if her
mistress would allow it, she would tell her all her troubles.
    'Go on,' replied M me de Rênal.
    'Well you see, madam, he's turned me down; people must have said
nasty things to him about me out of spite, and he believes them.'
    'Who's turned you down?' M me de Rênal asked, hardly able to breathe.
    'Who do you think, madam?' replied the maid, sobbing. 'Mr Julien, of
course. Father Chélan couldn't overcome his reluctance; because, you
see, Father Chélan thinks he shouldn't refuse an honest girl on the
grounds she's been a
    -50-

chambermaid. After all, Mr Julien's father's only a carpenter; and how did he earn his living before he came to Madam's?'
    M me de Rênal had ceased to listen; the surfeit of happiness had almost
deprived her of her senses. She asked her maid to confirm several
times over that Julien had given a definite refusal which ruled out
the possibility of going back to a more sensible decision.
    'I want to make a last attempt,' she told her maid. 'I shall speak to Mr Julien.'
    After lunch the next day, M me de Rênal gave herself the sweet pleasure of pleading her rival's
cause, and seeing Elisa's hand and fortune steadfastly spurned for an
hour on end.
    Gradually Julien dropped his stilted replies, and ended up answering M me de Rênal's sensible arguments with some degree of wit. She could not
withstand the flood of happiness which overwhelmed her after so many
days of despair. She suddenly felt quite unwell. When she had
recovered and was comfortably settled in her room, she sent everyone
away. She was deeply astonished.
    Could I be in love with Julien? she asked herself at last.
    This discovery, which at any other moment would have plunged her into
remorse and deep agitation, remained a matter of intellectual
contemplation for her: she was very struck by it, but somehow
indifferent. She was so exhausted by everything she had just been
through that she had no emotional energy left to experience any
feelings.
    M me de Rênal
tried to settle to her needlework, and fell into a deep sleep. When
she awoke, she did not experience as strong a sense of alarm as she
should have done. She was too happy to be able to put a bad
interpretation on anything. This good provincial woman was so naïve
and innocent that she had never tortured her soul to try and force it
to experience some new nuance of feeling or unhappiness. Before
Julien's arrival she had been completely absorbed by the volume of
work which, in regions remote from Paris, is the lot of a good
mother and housewife; and she thought of passions as we think of the
lottery: inevitably a confidence trick, and a source of happiness
pursued only by madmen.
    The bell rang for dinner; M me de Rênal blushed deeply when
    -51-

she heard Julien's voice as he brought the children in. She had
become quite cunning since falling in love, and to explain away her
flushed appearance she complained of a terrible headache.
    'That's the way with all women,' M. de Rênal replied with a loud
laugh. 'There's always something needing mending with those machines!'
    Though accustomed to this kind of wit, M me de Rênal was shocked by his tone of voice. To distract herself, she
looked at Julien's face; had he been the ugliest of men, he would
still have been attractive to her at that moment.
    Careful to copy the habits of people at Court, M. de Rênal took up
residence at Vergy as soon as the first fine days of spring arrived.
This is the village made