第55章

"Because she would have suffered ten times as much as you.Think of it,--the nerves and heart of a woman!"He looked at me with a singular expression; apparently he could not understand how anyone could suffer more than he.After this he talked a long time about women, who are to him, from what he said, an impenetrable mystery, and he repeated eagerly:

"You do not despise them, as HE does?"

"That would be impossible, I remember my mother.""Is that your only reason?"

"Some day I will tell you the others."

As I left and was already nearly out of the window, he seized me impetuously by the arm, saying to me:

"Could you swear to me that you would be less happy if you did not know me?""I swear it."

His face brightened, and his eyes flashed.

August 8th.

And you too are transformed, my dear Gilbert; you have visibly rejuvenated.A new spirit has taken possession of you.Your blood circulates more quickly; you carry your head more proudly, your step is more elastic, there is more light in your eyes, more breath in your lungs, and you feel a celestial leaven fermenting in your heart.My old friend, you have emerged from your long uselessness to give birth to a soul! Oh, glorious task! God bless mother and daughter!

August 9th.

Stephane is painfully astonished at the friendship which his father displays towards me.

"He has the power of loving then, and does not love me? It is because I am destestable!"Poor innocent! It is certain that in spite of himself, the Count has begun to like me.Good Father Alexis said to me the other evening:

"You are a clever man, my son; you have cast a spell upon Kostia Petrovitch, and he entertains an affection for you, which he has never before manifested for anyone."August 11th.

His painted herbarium is enriched every day.He already enumerates twenty species and five families.Yesterday Stephane so far forgot himself as to look at it with an air of satisfied pride.How happy I was! I kept my joy to myself, however.He further delighted me by deciding to write from memory at the bottom of each page the French and Latin names for each plant."It is a concession I have made to the pedant," said he; but this did not prevent him from being proud of having written these forty names without a mistake.

Last time I carried to him some crowsfeet and anemones.He took the little celandine in his hand, crying:

"Let me have it; I am going to tell you the history of this little yellow fellow."And he then gave me all the characteristics with marvelous accuracy.What a quick and luminous intellect, and what overflowing humor! His hands trembled so much that I said to him:

"Keep cool, keep cool.It requires a firm and steady hand to raise the veil of Isis."I contented myself with explaining in a few words who Isis was, which interested him but moderately.His masterpiece, as a faithful reproduction of nature, is his marsh ranunculus, which Ihad introduced to him under the Latin name of ranuncula scelerata.

He has so exquisitely represented these insignificant little yellow flowers that it is impossible not to fall in love with them.

"This little prisoner has inspired me," said he."By dint of practicing Father Alexis, I begin to wish good to the rascals."I rebuked him sharply, but he was not much affected by my rating.

August 13th.

The Count's conduct is atrocious, and yet I understand it.His pride, his whole character, despotic; the horror of having been deceived....And besides, is he really Stephane's father?...

These two children born after six years of marriage, and a few years later to discover....Suspicions often have less foundation.And then this fatal resemblance which keeps the image of the faithless one constantly before his eyes! The more decided the resemblance, the greater must be his hatred.Even his smile, that strange smile which belongs to him alone, Stephane according to Father Alexis, must have inherited from his mother."I HAVEBURIED THE SMILE!" Frightful cry which I can hear still! Finally, I believe that in the barbarous hatred of this father there is more of instinct than of system.It lives from day to day.I am sure that Count Kostia has never asked himself: "What shall I do with my son when he is twenty?"August 14th.

Ivan, of whom I asked news of Stephane, said to me:

"Do not be uneasy about him any more.He has become much better within the past month, and he grows more gentle from day to day;this is the result of seeing death so near."

M.Leminof greatly astonished me this morning.

"My dear Gilbert," said he unreservedly, "I do not claim that I am a perfect man; but I am certainly what might be called a good sort of fellow, and I possess, in the bargain, a certain delicacy of conscience which sometimes inconveniences me.Without flattery, you are, my dear Gilbert, a man of great merit.Very well! I am using you unjustly, for you are at an age when a man makes a name and a career for himself; and these decisive years you are spending in working for me, in collecting, like a journeyman, the materials of a great work which will bring neither glory nor profit to you.

I have a proposition to make to you.Be my coadjutor; we will compose this monumental work together; it shall appear under our two names, and I give you my head upon it, shall make you famous.