La confession d'un enfant du siècle. English by Alfred de Musset
CHAPTER III. EXPLANATIONS
But quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliation; itwas attended, on Brigitte's part, by a mystery which frightened me atfirst and then planted in my soul the seeds of constant dread.
There developed in me, in spite of my struggles, the two elements ofmisfortune which the past had bequeathed me: at times furious jealousyattended by reproaches and insults; at other times a cruel gayety, anaffected cheerfulness, that mockingly outraged whatever I held mostdear. Thus the inexorable spectres of the past pursued me withoutrespite; thus Brigitte, seeing herself treated alternately as afaithless mistress and a shameless woman, fell into a condition ofmelancholy that clouded our entire life; and worst of all, that sadnesseven, the cause of which I knew, was not the most burdensome of oursorrows. I was young and I loved pleasure; that daily association witha woman older than I, who suffered and languished, that face, more andmore serious, which was always before me, all this repelled my youth andaroused within me bitter regrets for the liberty I had lost.
One night we were passing through the forest in the beautiful light ofthe moon, and both experienced a profound melancholy. Brigitte lookedat me in pity. We sat down on a rock near a wild gorge and passed twoentire hours there; her half-veiled eyes plunged into my soul, crossinga glance from mine; then wandered to nature, to the heavens and thevalley.
"Ah! my dear child," she said, "how I pity you! You do not love me."
To reach that rock we had to travel two leagues; two more in returningmakes four. Brigitte was afraid of neither fatigue nor darkness. Weset out at eleven at night, expecting to reach home some time in themorning. When we went on long tramps she always dressed in a blue blouseand the apparel of a man, saying that skirts were not made for bushes.She walked before me in the sand with a firm step and such a charmingmingling of feminine delicacy and childlike innocence, that I stoppedevery few moments to look at her. It seemed that, once started, she hadto accomplish a difficult but sacred task; she walked in front like asoldier, her arms swinging, her voice ringing through the woods in song;suddenly she would turn, come to me and kiss me. This was on theoutward journey; on the return she leaned on my arm; then more songs,confidences, tender avowals in low tones, although we were alone, twoleagues from anywhere. I do not recall a single word spoken on thereturn that was not of love or friendship.
Another night we struck out through the woods, leaving the road whichled to the rock. Brigitte was tramping along so stoutly and her littlevelvet cap on her light hair made her look so much like a resoluteyouth, that I forgot she was a woman when there were no obstacles inour path. More than once she was obliged to call me to her aid when I,without thinking of her, had pushed on ahead. I can not describe theeffect produced on me in the clear night air, in the midst of theforest, by that voice of hers, half-joyous and half-plaintive, coming,as it were, from that little schoolboy body wedged in between roots andtrunks of trees, unable to advance. I took her in my arms.
"Come, Madame," I cried, laughing, "you are a pretty little mountaineer,but you are blistering your white hands, and in spite of your hobnailedshoes, your stick and your martial air, I see that you must be carried."
We arrived at the rock breathless; about my body was strapped a leatherbelt to which was attached a wicker bottle. When we were seated on therock, my dear Brigitte asked for the bottle; I had lost it, as well asa tinder-box which served another purpose: that was to read theinscriptions on the guide-posts when we went astray, which occurredfrequently. At such times I would climb the posts, and read thehalf-effaced inscription by the light of the tinder-box; all this inplay, like the children that we were. At a crossroad we would haveto examine not one guide-post but five or six until the right one wasfound. But this time we had lost our baggage on the way.
"Very well," said Brigitte, "we will pass the night here, as I am rathertired. This rock will make a hard bed, but we can cover it with dryleaves. Let us sit down and make the best of it."
The night was superb; the moon was rising behind us; I looked at it overmy left shoulder. Brigitte was watching the lines of the wooded hills asthey began to outline themselves against the background of sky. Asthe light flooded the copse and threw its halo over sleeping nature,Brigitte's song became more gentle and more melancholy. Then she bentover, and, throwing her arms around my neck, said:
"Do not think that I do not understand your heart or that I wouldreproach you for what you make me suffer. It is not your fault, myfriend, if you have not the power to forget your past life; you haveloved me in good faith and I shall never regret, although I should diefor it, the day I gave myself to you. You thought you were entering upona new life, and that with me you would forget the women who had deceivedyou. Alas! Octave, I used to smile at that precocious experience whichyou said you had been through, and of which I heard you boast like achild who knows nothing of life. I thought I had but to will it, and allthat there was that was good in your heart would come to your lips withmy first kiss. You, too, believed it, but we were both mistaken.
"Oh, my child! You have in your heart a plague that can not be cured;that woman who deceived you, how you must have loved her! Yes, morethan you love me, alas! much more, since with all my poor love I can notefface her image; she must have deceived you most cruelly, since it isin vain that I am faithful!
"And the others, those wretches who then poisoned your youth! Thepleasures they sold must have been terrible since you ask me to imitatethem! You remember them with me! Alas! my dear child, that is too cruel.I like you better when you are unjust and furious, when you reproach mefor imaginary crimes and avenge on me the wrong done you by others,than when you are under the influence of that frightful gayety, when youassume that air of hideous mockery, when that mask of scorn affronts myeyes.
"Tell me, Octave, why that? Why those moments when you speak of lovewith contempt and rail at the most sacred mysteries of love? Whatfrightful power over your irritable nerves has that life you have led,that such insults should mount to your lips in spite of you? Yes, inspite of you; for your heart is noble, you blush at your own blasphemy;you love me too much, not to suffer when you see me suffer. Ah! I knowyou now. The first time I saw you thus, I was seized with a feeling ofterror of which I can give you no idea. I thought you were only a roue,that you had deliberately deceived me by feigning a love you did notfeel, and that I saw you such as you really were. O my friend! I thoughtit was time to die; what a night I passed! You do not know my life; youdo not know that I who speak to you have had an experience as terribleas yours. Alas! life is sweet only to those who do not know life.
"You are not, my dear Octave, the only man I have loved. There is hiddenin my heart a fatal story that I wish you to know. My father destinedme, when I was quite young, for the only son of an old friend. They wereneighbors and each owned a little domain of almost equal value. The twofamilies saw each other every day, and lived, so to speak, together. Myfather died; my mother had been dead some time. I lived with the auntwhom you know. A journey she was compelled to take forced her to confideme to the care of my future father-in-law. He called me his daughter,and it was so well known about the country that I was to marry his sonthat we were allowed the greatest liberty together.
"That young man, whose name you need not know, appeared to love me. Whathad been friendship from infancy became love in time. He began to tellme of the happiness that awaited us; he spoke of his impatience, I wasonly one year younger than he; but he had made the acquaintance of a manof dissipated habits who lived in the vicinity, a sort of adventurer,and had listened to his evil suggestions. While I was yielding to hiscaresses with the confidence of a child, he resolved to deceive hisfather, and to abandon me after he had ruined me.
"His father called us into his room one evening and, in the presence ofthe family, set the day of our wedding. The very evening before that dayhe had met me in the garden and had spoken to me of love with more forcethan usual; he said that since the time was set, we were just the sameas m
"That is, in a word, the story of my life; my husband knew it as you nowknow it. I am proud, my child, and I have sworn that no man shall evermake me again suffer what I suffered then. I saw you and forgot my oath,but not my sorrow. You must treat me gently; if you are sick, I am also;we must care for each other. You see, Octave, I, too, know what it is tocall up memories of the past. It inspires me at times with cruel terror;I should have more courage than you, for perhaps I have suffered more.It is my place to begin; my heart is not sure of itself, I am still veryfeeble; my life in this village was so tranquil before you came! I hadpromised myself that it should never change! All this makes me exacting.
"Ah! well, it does not matter, I am yours. You have told me, in yourbetter moments, that Providence appointed me to watch over you as amother. Yes, when you make me suffer I do not look upon you as a lover,but as a sick child, fretful and rebellious, that I must care for andcure in order that I may always keep him and love him. May God give methat power!" she added looking up to heaven. "May God who sees me, whohears us, may the God of mothers and of lovers permit me to accomplishthat task! When I feel as if I should sink under it, when my priderebels, when my heart is breaking, when all my life--"
She could not finish; her tears choked her. Oh, God! I saw her there onher knees, her hands clasped on the rock; she swayed in the breeze asdid the bushes about us. Frail and sublime creature! she prayed for herlove. I raised her in my arms.
"Oh! my only friend," I cried, "oh! my mistress, my mother, and mysister! Pray also for me that I may be able to love you as you deserve.Pray that I may have the courage to live; that my heart may be cleansedin your tears; that it may become a holy offering before God and that wemay share it together."
All was silent about us; above our heads spread the heavens resplendentwith stars.
"Do you remember," I said, "do you remember the first day?"
From that night we never returned to that spot. That rock was an altarwhich has retained its purity; it is one of the visions of my life, andit still passes before my eyes wreathed in spotless white.