CHAPTER II

_Dix ans de la vie d'une femme_

This is what _Dix ans de la vie d'une femme_ was like. Adèle Évrard has married M. Darcey, a rich landowner, a worthy and excellent man, full of concern for, attention towards and kindnesses to his wife--a sort of Danville of the _École des vieillards,_ with this difference, that Darcey is only forty. Adèle, Madame Darcey, has the same Christian name as Madame d'Hervey; but, instead of being like the heroine of _Antony,_ ready to struggle to the point of preferring death to shame, Adèle of _Dix ans de la vie d'une femme_ was born possessed of every evil tendency that could be fostered by bad influences. Now such bad influences were not wanting in her case. Adèle, daughter of an honest merchant, wife of an honest man, had made the acquaintance--(where, the narrative does not say, but it ought to have done: these things, even on the stage, ought to be explained)--Adèle, we repeat, had made the acquaintance of two disreputable women named Madame Laferrier and Sophie Marini. At the raising of the curtain, Adèle is chatting with her sister; of what? Of a subject young wives and girls are eternally talking about--Love. Clarisse loves a fascinating young man named Valdeja, who holds a position of attaché to the Embassy at Saint Petersburg, far away from her. There is but one disquieting element in that love--the character of the recipient is inclined to melancholy.

Meanwhile, M. Darcey arrives. At the first words he pronounces, one can recognise that he is an excellent man, half father, half husband; his wife, whom he adores, will have the sunny side of life; only the feathers, silks and velvets of married life if she will but obey his orders, or rather, accede to her husband's wishes, which are very simple and reasonable. He wishes her to cease from seeing two persons who are of more than equivocal antecedents, whose conduct and ways are not consistent with the behaviour of a respectable woman, or with the duties of the mother of a family. Adèle promises in a fashion which means that she will break her promise. Her husband goes out, called away from home on business which will detain him half the day; Clarisse goes to attend to household matters, and Madame Darcey stays alone. Hardly is she left thus before she is told that Madame Laferrier, Sophie Marini and M. Achille Grosbois have come. Her first impulse is to recall the promise she has made to her husband; the second, to put it on one side. Enter these ladies and M. Achille.

We can imagine the turn the conversation takes, particularly when, on seeing Adèle's troubled looks as she welcomes her friends, they discover something fresh has happened in the household and that Darcey has forbidden his wife to receive Sophie and Amélie. Such a prohibition, which should make two women who possess merely the faintest feelings of pride fly for very shame, only incites our two hussies: they do not merely content themselves with paying an ordinary call at the château; they invite themselves to dinner. Furthermore, as though they had expected the affront that had been offered them, they prepare their revenge: M. Rodolphe is to come.

"Qu'est-ce que M. Rodolphe? demande Adèle.

--Un jeune homme charmant!

--Qu'est-ce qu'il est?

--Il va à Tortoni.

--J'entends bien ... Mais qu'est-ce qu'il fait?

--Il déjeune le matin chez Tortoni, et le soir, vous le trouvez, en gants jaunes, au balcon de tous les théâtres. Du resté, il est garçon, possède vingt-mille livres de rente, et est adorateur d'Adèle.

--De moi?

--Il te poursuit partout sans pouvoir t' atteindre, et, en désespoir de cause, nous adore, Sophie et moi, parce que nous sommes tes meilleures amies!"

And, upon this somewhat vague intelligence, that Rodolphe breakfasts at Tortoni's and is at night in the stalls at the theatres wearing yellow gloves, Adèle receives M. Rodolphe and invites him to dinner with her friends and M. Achille Grosbois. At this juncture, Clarisse runs in joyously: she tells her sister that a coupé, drawn by two horses with the most beautiful coats and a coachman in elegant livery, sent as a gift from M. Darcey, are just coming into the château courtyard.

"Comment! Ju n'avais pas encore de coupé? dit une des visiteuses.

--Il y a trois ans que mon mari m'en a donné un! dit l'autre."

And the effect M. Darcey intended to produce by his driver and carriage and pair is completely lost. But, as Adèle's father arrives in this fine equipage, however little enthusiasm Madame Darcey puts into her appreciation of a present she has looked forward to for so long, she is obliged to leave her dear friends, not to see the carriage, coachman and horses, but to welcome M. Évrard. Amélie follows her, for fear, no doubt, that the paternal embraces may awaken some proper feeling in her friend's heart. Sophie, M. Achille, M. Rodolphe and Clarisse remain together. Conversation is difficult between a virtuous young girl and such creatures; but wait, Sophie means to keep up the conversation. She thanks Clarisse for a little sum the latter has given her. Sophie Marini had undertaken to collect money as a charitable lady, and fulfils, by so doing, a pious duty. For what had this person been collecting? Oh, that is a perfectly simple matter: for a young girl who has been deserted by a shameful seducer.

"Oh! voilà qui est horrible! s'écrie Rodolphe,--_étendu sur une chaise._

--Je ne vous nommerai pas le séducteur, quoique je le connaisse, reprend Sophie; ce serait inutile: il n'est plus en France, il est très-loin, à l'étranger ... en Russie.

--En Russie! répète Clarisse vivement,--sans s'apercevoir que, devant elle, jeune fille et demi-maîtresse de maison, il y a un monsieur qui reste _étendu sur une chaise._

--Oui, en Russie, où il occupe une fort belle place! Et, certainement, ce Valdeja aurait bien pu ...

--Valdeja! s'écrie Clarisse."

Well! the poison is shed, the poor child is wounded to the heart! Adèle re-enters. She thinks she will have a meal prepared in the pavilion in the park. The whole company then go out to luncheon. Some minutes later, M. Darcey returns, and he learns that the best wines from his cellar, and the finest fruits from his garden are being served to entertain M. Achille and M. Rodolphe, whom he does not know at all, and Mesdames Sophie Marini and Amélie Laferrier, whom he knows but too well. He asks himself if it is possible his wife can so soon have forgotten the promise she made him, when Amélie, Sophie and Achille appear on the scenes and proceed to talk freely without perceiving the master of the house.

"AMÉLIE.

Nous voici revenus au point d'où nous étions partis.. Il est charmant, ce parc; mais c'est un véritable labyrinthe.

SOPHIE.

Heureusement, nous n'y avons pas rencontré le Minotaure!

ACHILLE.

Il est à Paris.

DARCEY, _qui s'est tenu a l'écart, s'avance près d'Amélie._

Non, monsieur!

_Exclamation générale._

ACHILLE.

Ma foi! monsieur, qui se serait douté que vous étiez là à m'écouter? Rien de plus dès obligeant que d'être écouté! Vous excuserez la plaisanterie, j'espère?

DARCEY.

Monsieur ...

ACHILLE.

L'air de la campagne pousse singulièrement aux bons mots, et, sans examiner s'ils sont exacts, la langue s'en débarrasse.

DARCEY.

Je comprends cela â merveille; mais j'ai un grand travers d'esprit: je n'aime pas les fats.

ACHILLE.

Ah! vous n'aimez pas!...

DARCEY.

Ah! vous n'aimez pas!...

DARCEY.

Non, je ne les amie pas; et, quand ils s'introduisent chez moi (regardant les deux dames), dans quelque compagnie qu'ils se trouvent, je les chasse sans balancer.

ACHILLE, _sur les épines._

Fort-bien, fort-bien!--Je disais tout à l'heure.

DARCEY, _élevant la voix._

Monsieur, vous m'avez compris ...

SOPHIE, _à Amélie._

Il n'y a pas moyen d'y tenir: sortons, ma chère! Elle sort en donnant la main à Achille.

DARCEY.

Je serais désolé de vous retenir.

AMELIE.

Monsieur, un pareil outrage.

DARCEY.

Madame Laferrier me permettra-t-elle de la reconduire jusqu'à sa voiture?"

And whilst Darcey turns his back, the following scene takes place between Adèle and Rodolphe.

"RODOLPHE, _un bouquet à la main._

Eh bien, où sont dont ces dames?

ADÈLE.

Dieu! M. Rodolphe, parlez! éloignez-vous!

RODOLPHE.

Et pourquoi donc?

ADÈLE.

Mon mari est de retour.

RODOLPHE.

Eh! que m'importe?

ADÈLE.

Il vient de nous faire une scène affreuse.

RODOLPHE, _gaiement._

C'est comme cela que je les amie, les maris!

ADÈLE.

Mais, pour moi, monsieur; pour moi, de grâce, parlez!

RODOLPHE.

Pour vous, c'est différent, il s'y a rien que je ne fasse. Mais mon respect, ma soumission me priveront ils de votre présence? Dois-je désormais renoncer à ce bonheur?

ADÈLE.

Il le faut. _Je ne puis plus vous voir._

RODOLPHE.

Chez vous, je le comprends; mais dans le monde. Chez vous, amies?...

ADÈLE, _avec crainte._

Monsieur, vous me faites mourir!

RODOLPHE.

Un mot de consentement, un seul mot, et je pars; sinon, je reste.

ADÈLE.

Parlez, parlez, je vous en supplie!

RODOLPHE, _lui baisant la main._

Ah! que je vous remercie!"

He escapes by the bottom of the garden; then Darcey returns.

"DARCEY.

Leur voiture est sur la route de Paris.... Maintenant, madame, voulez-vous que nous passions au salon?

ADÈLE.

Monsieur, est ce la le commencement du rôle de mari?

DARCEY.

Oui, madame.

ADÈLE, _sortant._ Alors, malheur à celui qui ose s'en charger!

DARCEY, _la suivant des yeux, et sortant après elle._

Malheur à toi, si tu écoutes d'autres conseils que ceux de la raison!"

In the second act, Adèle is the mistress of Rodolphe. Thus, the wife has not even the excuse of seduction; she has not been overcome, given in through weakness, hesitated; she yielded as Sophie Marini or Amélie Laferrier would; then the interest grows. A wife is lost, but without any efforts to save herself!

Valdeja has arrived from Russia; he is gloomier, more bitter, more averse to women than ever. A young girl who loved him, whom he was counting upon marrying, who was almost his betrothed, has written to him through her father that she does not love him, and could not love him. Hence, Valdeja's sadness, his vow to be avenged on other women for the sufferings this one has caused him. Darcey does not know who the young girl is: an extraordinary thing, considering the degree of intimacy between himself and Valdeja, and that that young girl is his sister-in-law. But to proceed!...

Adèle enters. She exercises that insincere tenderness towards her husband, that assiduity which is affected by deceitful women. At the first words, Valdeja is not taken in by it. Adèle tells her husband that she has just learnt that her father is ill; she therefore proposes to go and see him, but she will return to dinner.

"Vraiment! Il est neuf heures du matin, dit Darcey, et à six heures tu seras rentrée?

--A moins qu'on ne me retienne; ce pauvre père si bon!

--Il me semble qu'en envoyant Créponne ou Baptiste s'informer de sa santé ...

--Oh! ce serait d'une indifférence ... Et puis, Clarisse, _ma jeune sœur,_ m'a écrit: elle désire me voir, sans doute au sujet du mariage dont il est question pour elle, tu sais?

--Ah! mademoiselle votre sœur va se marier!"

Here we see Valdeja informed that Clarisse is going to be married, as she has been told that Valdeja had been unfaithful to her. After this, Adèle insists so much on her father's illness, and on the fact that the letter from her sister Clarisse is very urgent, that her husband gives her complete liberty to go where she wished. The eagerness with which she takes advantage of this liberty rouses Valdeja's suspicions, and under pretext of having to make various visits, a letter from a Russian prince to be handed to a M. Laferrier, and so on, he goes out at a venture to follow Madame Darcey, when they announce the arrival of Clarisse.

"Alors, répond Darcey, dites à Adèle que sa sœur est là.

--Madame est sortie.

--C'est étonnant! Je n'ai pas entendu sa voiture, et il y a trop loin pour qu'elle aille à pied.

--Madame avait envoyé Baptiste à la place voisine pour faire avancer un fiacre.

--Un fiacre? C'est singulier! dit Darcey."

Clarisse comes in; her father has nothing whatever the matter with him! but his credit is on the point of being destroyed by bankruptcy. He needs a hundred thousand crowns to save him. Valdeja offers them. But Darcey will not allow a stranger to pay the debts of his family: he puts the hundred thousand crowns at the disposition of Clarisse's father.

Let us pass on to the following scene and we shall see if Adèle d'Hervey--poor Adèle, against whom there has been this outcry because she was a respectable woman!--is not a model of virtue (_rosière_[1]) compared to Adèle Darcey. Note, particularly, that our confrère Scribe, author of _Dix ans de la vie d'une femme_ and of _Héloise et Abeilard,_ is one of the warmest partizans for a dramatic censorship. Consult the archives of the State Commission oh this point. Further, we will try ourselves to procure these archives, and there will be found stated our three opinions: Eugène Scribe's, Victor Hugo's and that of Alexandre Dumas--a matter not without a certain amount of interest to all who are connected with literature.

Let us return to our drama. The stage represents an elegant boudoir in the house of Madame Laferrier. Adèle is there, waiting for Rodolphe. You will admit that I was not so far wrong in calling Madame Laferrier a disreputable woman. There is, I think, another name to designate women who lend their boudoirs to friends when the latter tell their husbands that their fathers are dying in order to obtain liberty to go and meet their lovers. But set your mind at rest. Adèle and Rodolphe only come there to quarrel. True, the quarrel is sufficiently disgraceful in itself.

"Qu'avez-vous à me reprocher, madame?

--Votre oubli de toutes les convenances. Avant hier, par exemple, quand vous me donniez le bras, oser saluer sur le boulevard mademoiselle Anastasie, une figurante de l'Opéra!

--Du chapeau seulement, sans mains, sans grace, comme on salue tout le monde.

--Je l'avais une vue déjà une fois sortir de chez vous.

--C'est ma locataire. J'amie les arts, moi ...

--Je vous prie de me rendre mes lettres et mon portrait.

--Dès demain, mon valet de chambre Sylvestre vous portera vos lettres, et, quant à votre portrait, a médaillon que j'avais fait faire, qui ne me quittait jamais, le voici, madame.

--C'est bien! le voilà donc revenu dans mes mains. _(L'ouvrant pour le regarder.)_ Dieu! que vois-je? et quelle indignité! Le portrait de mademoiselle Anastasie!

--Est-il possible? C'est délicieux! Je me serai trompé en le prenant ce matin. _(Textuel)."_

Rodolphe goes out kissing Adèle's hand, calling her cruel, and promising never to forget her kindnesses.

"Ce pauvre Rodolphe! un charmant cavalier! dit Amélie, qui était présente à l'entretien."

One would have thought after the impertinences M. Rodolphe had been permitted to commit, Amélie would scarcely recall _ce charmant cavalier_ to Adèle's memory. Perhaps, though, this might have happened, if the name of Valdeja had not been pronounced. This incident gives another turn to the conversation.

"Valdeja!" exclaims Amélie; "Sophie Marini's deadly enemy?"

"Lui-même ... Sais-tu ce que Sophie Marini a contre lui?

--Elle ne me l'a jamais confié; mais on prétend qu'autrefois elle l'a amie. Puis; il a découvert qu'il avait des rivaux, et il s'est vengé d'une maniéré indigne.

--Comment cela?

--En la faisant trouver à un dîner où il avait invité tous ceux qu'elle avait préférées. On ne dit pas combien il y avait de couverts. _(Textuel.)"_

At this point, Créponne, Adèle's maid, comes on the scene. She has been hunting for her mistress for six hours past: at Rodolphe's and at Madame Marini's house. Clarisse coming to the house has revealed all: her father is not ill, and she never wrote! What is to be done? Fortunately, Amélie is there.

"Y a-t-il longtemps que vous n'êtes allés, toi et ton mari, chez madame de Longpré, dont tu me parles souvent?

--Quinze jours environ.

--Assieds-toi là, et écris.

--Que veux-tu que je lui écrive?

--Assieds-toi toujours. (_Dictant._) 'Si, avant de m'avoir vue, le hasard vous mettait en rapport avec mon père ou mon mari, n'oubliez pas que je suis arrivée aujourd'hui chez vous dans un état affreux; que j'y suis restée longtemps, et que je'en suis repartie en fiacre. Je vous envoie mon chapeau et mon mouchoir. Vous me les renverrez demain par votre femme de chambre.' Date et signe. Commences--tu à comprendre?

--Oui, mon bon ange!"

--En arrivant chez toi, tu te trouveras mal, et je réponds du reste.

--Dieu! que c'est simple et bien! _(Textuel.)_"

At this moment a servant announces that a gentleman is asking to see madame.

"Il prend bien son temps, répond Amélie; qu'il s'en aille!

--Il prétend qu'il n'est que pour un jour à Paris, et qu'il apporte à madame des lettres et des nouvelles du prince Krimikoff.

--Ce pauvre prince! il pense encore à moi!--

--Dis au monsieur d'attendre là dans la pièce qui touche à ce boudoir; dans un instant, je suis à lui, je le recevrai."

Why _in the room adjoining that boudoir_ we ask? Why, of course, so that the gentleman can hear what is going to be said; there is no deeper motive behind it than that! See for yourself, however: when the servant has gone out, the dialogue continues between Adèle and Amélie.

"Une chose m'inquiète, maintenant: ce sont ces lettres et ce portrait que Rodolphe a entre les mains.

--C'est ta faute; je t'ai dit vingt fois de ne pas écrire. Tu veux toujours faire à ta tête!

--Il n'en a que trois, et il m'a bien promis devant toi de me les renvoyer demain par son valet de chambre.

--Espérons-le! Allons, va-t'en vite!

--De ce côté?

--Oh! non, tu serais vue par cet étranger.

--Eh! mais j'y pense, maintenant, nous sommes là a parler tout haut, et l'on entend de ton petit salon tout ce qui se dit ici.

--Qu' importe! cet étranger ne sait peut-être pas le français."

Adèle is satisfied with the suggestion that a Russian does not understand French, the current language of Russia; she does not reflect that a Russian who cannot talk French would not ask to speak with Amélie, who is not supposed to be a woman who knows Russian. Valdeja enters behind the two women, brought in by a servant.

"Je n'étais pas si mal où j'étais! se dit Valdeja, et, dès qu'à travers cette légère cloison j'ai eu reconnu la voix de madame Darcey, j'eusse mérité de ne plus rien entendre de ma vie, si j'eusse perdu un mot de leur conversation!"

What does Valdeja think of doing now? That is quite simple: to carry off Adèle's handkerchief and letter. Unfortunately, Amélie, when taking her friend home, has carried them away with her. But, do not be uneasy, when she returns she will bring them back, and this will give occasion to a curious scene, as you are about to hear.

Valdeja, who speaks French perfectly, although a foreigner, for he is a Spaniard, has been charged by Prince Krimikoff with a letter for M. Laferrier. This letter begins the affair. So they chat about Prince Krimikoff.

"Dans quel état l'avez-vous trouvé? demande Amélie.

--Fort triste et fort maussade.

--Changé à ce point! Je l'ai vu ici, il y a six ans: il était charmant.

--Je sais cela. Il m'a dit que vous l'aviez trouvé charmant.

--Il vous l'a dit?

--Chut!... Parce que je sais vos heures intimes avec lui, ce n'est pas une raison pour les publier.

--Monsieur! M. Krimikoff est un fat ... Je nie positivement.

--A quoi bon? Parce qu'on arrive du fond de la Russie, nous croyez-vous en dehors de la civilisation? Là-bas, comme ici, la vie bien entendue n'est qu'un joyeux festin; et de quel droit. M. Krimikoff se réserverait il le privilège d'une ivresse exclusive?

--Eh! mais, monsieur, permettez-moi de vous dire que voilà d'affreux principes."

At the same time, as the author is careful to state, Amélie utters these words _smiling._ Valdeja continues:

"Affreux à avouer, doux à mettre en pratique.

--Monsieur!

--Ne le niez pas, je sais tout ... Car cette lettre que j'ai là, cette lettre n'est pas pour votre mari, comme j'ai dit: elle est pour vous."

It is, indeed, unfortunate that it is for Madame Laferrier and not for M. Laferrier; for, although they talk much about it, the spectators do not see M. Laferrier at all. It would certainly be interesting to see the husband who would adapt himself to such a wife! Listen carefully and follow the turn the conversation is going to take.

"Mais, continue Valdeja, à votre seul aspect, je me suis repenti de m'en être chargé ... Il me semblait cruel de vous apporter, de la part d'un autre, des hommages que j'étais tenté de vous rendre, et de vous voir lire devant moi ce que je n'osais vous dire.

--Un rival?... Permettez! Je ne vous cacherai pas que les brilliantes qualités de M. Krimikoff, m'avaient frappée; cependant, sans le piège qu'il m'a tendu, je serais, je l'atteste, restée irréprochable."

What, then, is the snare Prince Krimikoff has laid for Madame Laferrier? The author does not say. But it must be the same order of snare which Valdeja sets for her. Poor Amélie! Let us admit that she has naturally a great talent for allowing herself to be caught in a trap.

"Irréprochable! s'écrie Valdeja avec chaleur.

--Eh! bon Dieu! de quel mot vous servez-vous la? Qu'est-ce que c'est que _vertueuse_? (_Riant._) Ah!

--Ah! sur mon âme, voilà d'étroites idées, d'anciennes façons bien pauvres, et je croyais la France moins arriérée. Vous arrêter un instant à de pareilles distinctions?

--Ah! madame, j'avais d'abord conçu une meilleure idée de vous!"

You may imagine Amélie's joy at the thought of the good opinion the noble stranger has conceived of her. Valdeja goes on, _raising his tones:_

"Quand on adopte un régime, il faut tâcher qu'il soit bon. Je ne connais qu'un enseignement respectable, c'est celui de nos passions. La nature y est pour tout, la société pour rien. Plaisir, ivresse, déüre, voilà des mots auxquels nos cœurs répondent.... Vous le savez, vous qui ne pouvez, même en ce moment, contenu vos pensées qui s'allument (_il lui prend la main,_) vous dont le pouls s'active, dont l'œil s'enflamme et rit là en silence de tous ces aphorismes de vertu.

--Monsieur, Monsieur ...

--A quoi bon ces vains scruples? Je vous comprends, je vous suis, je vous devance peut-être.

--Parlons d'autre chose, je vous prie.

--Voyez, votre mémoire vous domine, vos souvenirs sont dans votre sang; vous vous rappelez tout ce que vaut, dans la vie, un moment d'illusion.

--Laissez-moi!

--Ce que peut un bras qui serre ...

--Laissez-moi!

--Un souffle, qui renverse!

--Oh! grâce! grâce!"

You see very clearly that instead of stopping, Valdeja continues:

"Venez! dit il en prenant Amélie par la taille.

--Écoutez! (_On entend le bruit d'une voiture._) C'est mon mari! Voilà sa voiture qui rentre."

Ah! so we are to see this worthy M. Laferrier after all! The noise of the carriage, which would have disturbed anybody else, helps Valdeja, on the contrary, to wind up the scene, which we should agree was becoming difficult between people who have only just met for the first time, one of whom hates and despises the other.

"Vous quitter ainsi, s'écrie Valdeja, sans un gage, sans un souvenir? (_Apercevat le mouchoir resté sur la table._) Ah! Ce mouchoir, qui est le votre ...

--Monsieur ...

--Là, là, sur mon cœur; il y restera comme votre image!

--Monsieur, rendez-moi mon mouchoir.

--Jamais! Adieu, adieu, madame!"

And, in spite of Amélie's cries of "My handkerchief, my handkerchief!" Valdeja goes out, forgetting to take leave at his departure. The curtain falls. Let us now see what happens in the third act.

In the first scene of the third act, we are at Valdeja's rooms in a furnished house. He is alone, seated at a table, holding in his hand the handkerchief which he has taken from Madame Laferrier. He waits for his moujik Mourawieff. Mourawieff has been deputed by Valdeja to procure the letters and portrait _artfully._ Perhaps Valdeja, as a civilised being, ought to have lent assistance to the skill of a moujik only arrived in Paris the previous day, who, consequently, could not be very much up to date in French manners; but he has overlooked this detail, which, as it concerns the reputation of the wife of a friend, deserves, perhaps, that some attention should be paid to the matter.

The consequence is that Mourawieff acts as cunningly as a moujik; he waited for Rodolphe's servant at the door of No. 71 of the rue de Provence, where the frequenter of the café Tortoni stays; he makes sure that the servant is the bearer of the letters and portrait; and, in wrestling terms, he trips him up. Sylvestre falls, loosing letters and portrait. Mourawieff takes possession of them and arrives, running. Do not let us complain: Mourawieff's clumsiness is a skilful move on the part of the author and will give us an excellent scene presently. I say presently, because, before it, there is one which we do not consider very happy--from the moral point of view be it understood: we are not concerning ourselves here, be careful to notice, with the literary merits of the drama. No, we will imagine ourselves Academicians--what more can you desire? we are all mortal!--commissioned to make a report on the most moral play acted in 1832 at the boulevard theatres; our confrère Scribe competes for the prize for morality: we examine his play with all the more care as we know he is a fanatical partisan of the censorship, and we make our report.

The unfortunate scene is that where Valdeja opens the packet and reads the letters addressed to M. Rodolphe by his friend's wife. The perusal of them confirms him in the resolution to leave his friend in ignorance of everything; but he takes upon himself to avenge that friend's honour and to fight a duel with Rodolphe. He therefore takes a brace of pistols and a couple of duelling swords and makes himself ready to go in search of Rodolphe at 71 rue de Provence. He meets the man he is looking for on the threshold of his door. Rodolphe has also, like Valdeja, a brace of pistols in his hands and two swords under his arm.

That Valdeja, who probably wishes a duel without witnesses, should take pistols and swords and go armed like a Malbrouk on his way to the war, in search of the man of whom he has to demand the vindication of a friend's honour, is conceivable enough in all conscience. But that Rodolphe, who has none of these motives, instead of sending his seconds as is done between well-bred people, should come himself and go up the stairs with sword under his arm and pistols in hand, instead of leaving all the weapons in his carriage, is altogether senseless. No matter, for, as we have already said, we are not fishing in those waters. The scene containing this improbable incident is original and well drawn; that is sufficient. Bravo! bravo! bravo! But you shall see where it vexes us that our confrère has taken advantage of the absence of the censorship. The two young people agree to fight with pistols. It is Rodolphe who suggests the weapon.

"Le pistolet, soit! répond Valdeja.

--Chacun les nôtres.

--J'y consens.

--Dites-moi donc,--reprend Rodolphe tenant, ainsi que Valdeja, sa boîte à la main,--nous avons l'air de bijoutiers, courant les pratiques.

--Pourquoi non? La mort est un chaland tout comme un autre, et nos âmes sont, dit on, des joyaux divins.

--_Vieilles idées sans base et sans soutien_!

--Pour l'un des deux, Rodolphe, le doute aura cessé d'exister aujourd'hui.

--Va comme il est dit!"

Both go out. The second scene of the third act brings us into a room in Évrard's house. The whole family is in a state of rejoicing; Darcey's 100,000 francs have saved Évrard from ruin. They bless Darcey. Albert Melville, Clarisse's future husband, takes advantage of this moment of expansiveness to try to obtain from his fiancée a positive statement as to the state of her affections. Clarisse feels that of a sister for him, the tenderness of a friend, but she will never be in love with him. Albert is resigned; enumerating Clarisse's excellent qualities, he thinks he will be happy in his lot. The scene is interrupted by the arrival of Adèle. For a long time she has not been to her father's house, but, invited by him as well as her husband to a little family gathering, she complies with the invitation. Behind her enters M. and Madame Dusseuil, her uncle and aunt. As for M. Darcey, no one knows if he is coming; Adèle has not seen him since the morning. As they are wondering about his coming, the door opens and he enters pale and constrained.

Now begins a scene, dramatic in its simple domesticity. Darcey has found his wife's letters. The author does not tell us how, for these letters cannot have been put in his way for two hours after the departure of Valdeja; which leads us to surmise that, Valdeja not having returned within two hours, he must be dead. Never mind by what means Darcey has discovered the letters; he has them, and that is the chief point, and he comes as before a family tribunal to ask each member what is the punishment a friend of his ought to inflict on a wife who has deceived him.

"Je pardonnerais, mon frère, dit Clarisse, dans l'espoir d'obtenir par le repentir ce qu'un autre sentiment n'aurait pas en assez de force pour faire naître.

--Moi, je la tuerais! dit Albert."

Adèle's father is questioned in his turn.

"ÉVRARD.

Ma foi, je la mènerais à ses parents; je les ferais juges entre elle et moi; je leur dirais: 'La voilà! le mauvais germe a étouffé le bon; il a porté ses fruits; ils sont murs, récoltez-les! et je la leur laisserais.

DARCEY.

Eh bien, c'est vous qui l'avez jugée.

ADÈLE, _avec anxiété._

Mais qui donc?...

DARCEY.

Je ne la tuerai pas, je ne la traînerai pas sur les bancs d'un tribunal; mais je vous la rendrai, mon père! Car, cet homme, c'est moi! Cette femme, c'est votre fille!

ADÈLE.

_Ce n'est pas vrai!_

ÉVRARD.

Adèle vous a trahir?

ADÈLE.

Je ne suis pas coupable! il ne m'aime plus: c'est un prétexte.

DARCEY.

Et Rodolphe, l'avez-vous oublié depuis hier?

ADÈLE.

_Qui, Rodolphe?_

DARCEY.

Rodolphe, votre amant!

ADÈLE.

_Je ne connais pas de Rodolphe!_

DARCEY.

Vous ne connaissez pas de Rodolphe?

ADÈLE.

Non.

DARCEY, _lui mettant ses lettres sous les yeux._

Lisez donc! lisez! Voilà les pièces du procès; ces lettres, ce sont les siennes. Adieu!

Justice est faite!..."

Nothing further remains for Darcey to do but to be avenged on Rodolphe; but, as one might expect, he has been killed by Valdeja. In the fourth act, we are at Adèle's house: it is modest to the very verge of mediocrity, for Adèle is short of money; she holds a pen in her hand and has paper before her; she is on the point of humbling herself to her husband and asking help from him. She prefers that humiliation to becoming the mistress of an Italian banker named Rialto. Sophie and Amélie enter. You can guess the scene: the pen is flung across the table, the paper upon which the first letters were already traced is torn up; the proposals of Rialto are accepted. The shameful treaty bears the stamp of self-sacrifice. Albert Melville has lost his position in the offices of the Exchequer; Rialto, who is at the head of all the loans, gets him restored to it and Albert Melville marries Clarisse. What is the reason for this anxiety for the welfare of Albert Melville and Clarisse on the part of the three women? Stop a minute! The marriage of these two young people will cause Valdeja to give way to despair. Whereupon, Valdeja comes forward. He comes on behalf of Darcey, whose kindness of heart is touched by the physical sufferings of the woman: as woman, not as his wife. Adèle is nothing to him personally now, only from the point of view of ordinary humanity; she no longer belongs to his family; she is his neighbour merely. Adèle, who has nearly accepted this conjugal charity, refuses it at the instigation of the two women. Valdeja is more cheerful than usual: he smiles in spite of himself at the contretemps which destroys the prospect of the marriage of Albert and Clarisse for ever. But, when promising to yield herself to Rialto, Adèle asks that Albert's post may be given back to him, and, within ten minutes' time, the post is restored to him, the marriage is arranged and the young folk are wedded! It is not very probable that all this could take place in ten minutes; but one knows that actual times does not exist on the stage. When Valdeja learns that it is the hatred of the three women which has just destroyed his last hope, he renews his oath of hatred, which they listen to with laughter. The curtain falls upon that oath. It rises upon a pretty garden with a summer-house on the left.

For three years Adèle is Rialto's mistress, and she lives with him just as though she were his wife. She has all she wants, even to the lover of her heart's desire. This lover's name is M. Hippolyte. Rialto promises to buy her houses, carriages and horses, and she loathes him. M. Hippolyte gives her a simple bouquet and she worships him. See him enter upon the scenes.

"Bonjour! ma chère Adèle!

--Ah! arrivez donc, monsieur! Je m'entretenais de vous.

--Et, moi, je pensais à vous. _Vous le voyez, ma chère Adèle, des fleurs, votre image ..._."

It is evident that if Hippolyte has made the conquest of Madame Darcey, it is an affair of the heart in which her mind has no part whatever. Besides, Hippolyte is grave to solemnity. He sends Créponne, the chambermaid, away and stays alone with Adèle. It is she who begins the conversation.

"Voyons, qu'est-ce qui pesé si fort sur la gaieté aujourd'hui? demande-t-elle.

--J'ai quelque chose de si important à te dire.

--Quoi donc?

--Ma chère Adèle, depuis trois mois, je suis aimé de toi; depuis six semaines, j'ai formé le projet d'être ton mari, et je viens te t'annoncer.

--Ah! ah! ah! ah! fait Adèle éclatant de rire.

--Qu'y a-t-il donc de si risible?

--Je ris parce que.... Ah! ah! ah! mais c'est une plaisanterie."

This hilarity, sufficiently ill-timed when confronted with so serious a proposal, does not disconcert Hippolyte in the least. He had come of age the previous day and wished to profit by his majority to marry Adèle in hot haste. Rialto is announced.

"C'est votre père? demande ingénument Hippolyte.

--Oui, mon ami; il faut partir à l'instant, par ici, par la porte de ce pavillion.

--Pourquoi donc?

--Il ne faut pas qu'il vous voie, ou tout serait perdu! Éloignez-vous, de grace!

--_Du tout!_ Je veux voir monsieur votre père, moi; j'ai à lui parler."

You guess why Hippolyte wants to speak to Rialto; Hippolyte, who attributes Adèle's immoderate laughter to playfulness of character, wishes to ask Rialto for his daughter's hand in marriage! Rialto laughs as loudly at this demand as Adèle had done. The poor lover might just as well have demanded the hand of the daughter of Democritus. But Hippolyte insists more pertinaciously to Rialto than he has done to Adèle; his tutor, to whom he has boasted of the virtue and beauty of the woman he loves, comes. The joke continues for about ten minutes; and then Rialto, whose laughter has suffered several checks, thinks it is time to put a stop to it. He sends the lover to the right about and takes Adèle by the arm to go a walk with her. You shall see what happens; and one thing you certainly will not have expected!

"HIPPOLYTE, _arrêtant Rialto par le bras._

Monsieur, c'est beaucoup plus grave que vous ne pensez!

RIALTO.

C'est possible; mais, si vous êtes malade du cerveau, je ne suis pas médecin.

ADÈLE.

Mon Dieu! laissons là cet entretien.

HIPPOLYTE.

Non, madame; je forcerai bien monsieur votre père à ne pas me refuser.

RIALTO.

C'est ce que nous verrons.

HIPPOLYTE.

Un mot suffira. Et, puis qu'il n'y a pas d'autre moyen, daignez me répondre, monsieur, connaissez-vous l'honneur?

RIALTO.

Eh bien, oui, je le connais. Qu'est-ce que vous en voulez dire?

HIPPOLYTE.

Tenez-vous au vôtre et à celui de votre famille?

RIALTO.

Sans doute que j'y tiens.

HIPPOLYTE.

Arrangez-vous, alors, pour qu'il ne souffre pas des atteintes que je lui ai portées, et tâchez de réparer avec le mari le dommage que l'amant lui a fait.

RIALTO.

L'amant?

ADÈLE.

Ne l'écoutez-pas!

HIPPOLYTE.

L'amant! Depuis trois mois, madame m'appartient!

RIALTO.

Ah! ah! qu'est-ce que vous me dites là?

HIPPOLYTE.

ADÈLE.

Ce qui est.

C'est une horreur!

HIPPOLYTE.

Et si vous avez un cœur de père ...

RIALTO.

Eh! monsieur, je ne suis pas son père!

HIPPOLYTE.

Vous n'êtes pas son père?

RIALTO.

Ni son père, ni son frère, ni son oncle, ni son mari ... Comprenez-vous, maintenant?

HIPPOLYTE, _stupéfie._

Ah! ce n'est pas possible!

RIALTO.

Aïe! aïe! belle dame, vous m'en faisiez donc en cachette? Et mes billets de mille fanes comptaient pour deux, à ce qu'il paraît!

ADÈLE.

Il n'en est rien, je vous jure!

RIALTO.

Ah! ah! ah! Et vous, mon brave, vous voulez épouser des femmes qui vivent séparées de leurs maris, et que des protecteurs consolent!..."

We think we ought to spare our readers, especially our feminine ones, the rest of the scene. This may, indeed, be _nature,_ as they say in studio terms; but it is vile nature! Pah! And to think that once in my life I did something nearly like it in a play entitled _Le Fils de l'Émigré_! But do not be anxious, when I come to that, I will deal with myself severely!

At the fifth act, we find ourselves in a _mean room of wretched appearance._ Three years have passed since Adèle has been turned out by Rialto and deserted by Hippolyte. Sophie waits for Adèle. The two women recognise one another.

"Ah! c'est toi, Sophie, dit Adèle.

--Tu me reconnais? C'est heureux! Pour moi, je l'avoue j'aurais en quelque peine ...

--Je suis donc bien changée? reprend Adèle.

--Tu as l'air souffrant ...

--Et toi, depuis trois ans que tu as quitté Paris?...

--J'étais allée en Belgique avec mon mari, lorsqu'il est parti pour ce pays-là, sans le dire à ses créanciers, cm les fournisseurs en sont tous là: se ruiner en entreprises, en spéculations, quand il y a tant d'autres moyens!

--Et il ne lui est rien resté?

--Rien, que des dettes; répond Sophie avec amertume. Mais, moi, _j'avais encore des espérances_: un oncle paralytique, M. de Saint-Brice; qui, veuf et sans enfants, avait une immense fortune, et je suis revenue en France à Paris, où j'ai appris que, _par la grâce du ciel,_ il venait de mourir. Mais, vois l'horreur, il m'a déshéritée!"

It is Valdeja who induced M. de Saint Brice to strike this great blow; so you see that the love for Sophie felt by the ex-attaché to the Embassy at St. Petersburg has not made much progress. We say the _ex-attaché,_ because during the six years he stays in Paris to attend to the affairs of his friend Darcey and those of his pupil Hippolyte, Valdeja must be no longer attached to but detached from the Embassy. During those last three years Adèle has made the acquaintance of M. Léopold, the son of a rich wine merchant, who has taken up his place as his father's successor; _but unfortunately this succession has not lasted long._

"Et tu ne l'as pas abandonné? demande Sophie.

Je le voudrais, dit Adèle; je n'ose pas. Il est si violent, il me tuerait!"

Besides, Adèle has discovered secrets which make her tremble: M. Léopold _entices extravagant young men and robs them._ She has no hope left except in her sister, to whom she has written.

Créponne enters and gives a letter to Adèle; it is from Clarisse, who is always good and charitable and loving! Her husband has forbidden her to see her sister; but, at two o'clock, hidden by a cloak, she will come on foot. Adèle must arrange to be alone. Sophie reads the letter at the same time with Adèle. She sees in it a means of injuring Clarisse and will meditate upon it.

"Adieu, dit elle à madame Darcey. Si j'ai quelque chose de nouveau, je viendrai te revoir.

--Je crains que Léopold ne se fâche, et que cela ne lui déplaise.

--Eh bien! par exemple!

--Pour plus de sûreté, quand tu auras à me parler, ne monte pas par le grand escalier, où l'on pourrait te voir, mais viens par celui-ci, dont voici la clef."

The key is just the thing Sophie wants to carry out her plan. But now that she has the key, the only thing she is in need of is some money with which to buy food.

"Tu n'aurais pas quelque argent à me prêter dit elle?

--J'en ai si peu!

--Et, moi, je n'en ai pas du tout. Je te rendrai cela dès que j'aurai obtenu ce que je sollicite.

--Bientôt?

--Je te le promets.

--A la bonne heure, car sans cela.... Tiens!"

At this moment M. Léopold arrives; he smells the money, pounces upon it and confiscates it, as he says by _order of the police._ That will give you an idea of monsieur's ways of procedure; but you will see plenty more. He wants money, much money.

Adèle must ask it from her parents.

"Vous savez bien qu'ils sont morts de chagrin, lui dit Adèle.

--Oui, à ce qu'ils disent, répond Léopold."

This is pretty talk, too pretty, indeed. There is still M. Rialto, but Adèle refuses to apply to him. To M. Hippolyte then....

"ADÈLE.

Plutôt mourir que d'avoir recours à lui!

LÉOPOLD, _haussant la voix._

Il le faut, cependant; car je veux, et vous ne me connaissez pas, quand on me résiste.

ADÈLE.

Léopold, Léopold, vous m'effrayez!... _(a part)._

Ah! Dieu! qui m'arrachera de ses mains?

LÉOPOLD.

Là, au secrétaire ... voilà ce qu'il vous faut pour écrire.

_Entre Créponne._

CRÉPONNE, _bas à Adèle._**

Une dame, enveloppée d'un manteau, est là dans votre chambre.

ADÈLE, _de même._ C'est ma sœur, c'est Clarisse!

LÉOPOLD, _l'arrêtant par le bras._ Où vas-tu? Tu ne sortiras pas d'ici que tu n'aies écrit.

ADÈLE. O mon Dieu!

LÉOPOLD, _la faisant asseoir au secrétaire._

Allons, une lettre à la Sévigné, et pour cela, je vais dicter: 'Cher Hippolyte....

ADÈLE.

Je ne mettrai jamais cela.

LÉOPOLD.

Hippolyte, tout court.

ADÈLE, _écrivant._

'Monsieur....'

LÉOPOLD.

A la bonne heure, je n'y tiens pas. _(Dictant.)_ Monsieur, une ancienne amie bien malheureuse ...

CRÉPONNE.

C'est bien vrai!

LÉOPOLD.

Je ne mens jamais ... _(Dictant.)_ Est menacée d'un affreux danger dont vous seul pouvez le sauver.

ADÈLE.

Mais c'est le tromper!

LÉOPOLD.

Qu'en savez-vous? Je ne mens jamais ... (_Dictant._) 'Si tout souvenir, si toute humanité n'est pas éteinté dans votre cœur, venez à son secours! Elle vous attendra aujourd'hui rue ...' Mets ton nom et ton adresse. 'Prenez avec vous de l'or, beaucoup d'or. Vous saurez pourquoi.'

ADÈLE, _indignée._

Je n'écrirai jamais cela.

LÉOPOLD, _dictant d'un ton impératif._

'Vous saurez pourquoi, et j'ose croire que vous m'en remercierez.' _(Lui prenant les mains.)_

Allons! écris, je le veux!

ADÈLE.

Mais que prétendez-vous donc faire? le forcer à jouer, le dépouiller?

LÉOPOLD.

Cela me regarde ... Signe!"

Adèle signs and Léopold goes out. But Adèle quickly orders Créponne to run to Hippolyte, to warn him of the snare that is being laid for him. Adèle then goes to her sister. Créponne stays alone talking to herself while putting on her shawl. Whilst addressing herself to this twofold occupation, the door of the little staircase opens slowly, and Albert appears, shrouded in a cloak.

"Encore un qui arrive, dit la femme de chambre. Il en sort donc ici de tous côtés?"

You perhaps suppose that Créponne, who is not tongue-tied, will go up to the newcomer and ask him who he can be to have possession of his mistress's house key? But no, she quietly moves off to the opposite side. Ah! confrère, though you are very clever and ingenious, I would verily rather have committed what they call in theatrical language _un loup._ True, had Créponne spoken to the man wrapped in a cloak, she would have recognised Albert, whom she would have told that his wife was there and that would have been the end of scene one of the fifth act.

You understand, dear reader? Sophie had sent the key Adèle gave her to Albert, and, when doing so, took good care, of course, to tell Melville that his wife had arranged a meeting with Valdeja; then she writes to Valdeja, in Clarisse's name, to tell him he will find her ... where? I have no notion, for the author of the play does not give the address of the house. It is a needless precaution, and makes no difference, be assured!

Albert, who wishes to hear all, hides in a cupboard. Whilst he is hiding, Valdeja enters! You can guess the situation. Valdeja and Clarisse meet; great is their astonishment, especially on the part of Clarisse; but, finally, they explain matters. The sole thing that Clarisse sees in it all is that she is incurring a real danger.

"Ah! mon Dieu! s'écrie-t-elle, je suis perdue, déshonorée! Qui pourrait me secourir, me protéger?

--Moi, Clarisse! dit Albert sortant du cabinet."

Albert and Valdeja exchange friendly greetings; they have learned to esteem one another. Valdeja goes away by a door at the back. Albert gives money to Adèle; Clarisse gives her a gold chain, then Albert and Clarisse go out by the little staircase. Scarcely have they disappeared before a noise is heard outside, then a pistol shot and cries of "Help! murder!" Adèle rushes terrified towards the stairs, and the curtain falls without any further explanation; but those who are anxious to guess without being told suspect that Léopold has taken Albert for Hippolyte and fired on him. The second part of the fifth act shows Adèle on a pallet-bed, ill and coughing and at death's door. Having spent her last crowns in a lottery, she has nothing to fall back upon but a gold chain which she has given to Sophie to sell. She would fain have chosen a more reliable agency, for she begins to mistrust her former friend; but it is necessary that it should be Sophie who sells the chain. You shall see why.

"Ma chère, cela va mal! dit Sophie en rentrant. Tu sais, cette chaîne que tu tenais de ta sur?

--Eh bien?

--J'ai été pour la vendre chez le bijoutier notre voisin, un vieux qui l'a regardée attentivement; puis il m'a dit: 'De qui tenez-vous cette chaîne?--D'une dame de mes amies.--Qui est elle --Que vous importe?--C'est que, a-t-il ajouté en feuilletant un registre, cette chaîne, à ce qu'il me semble, est au nombre des objets qui, lors de l'affaire Léopold, nous ont été signalés par la police.'"

How can the chain have been marked by the police when Adèle had received it from her sister before the assassination? Then Sophie lost her head; and with good reason, too! When she sees how clever the police are she runs away; the jeweller calls his assistants and they follow her; they know she is there.

"Mais on ignore qui tu es?

--Peut-être, car j'ai rencontré, en montant, la propriétaire.

--Je ne la connais pas.

--En bien, sais-tu quelle est cette femme? Notre ancienne amie!

--Amélie Laferrier?

--Elle-même!"

What a pity it was not her husband! We shall, perhaps, see him. But he is not there, you may be sure, and I have a great longing to be presented to him. At this moment there is a knock at the door. It is a Sister of Charity. Adèle has written to the mayor, under the name of Madame Laurencin; she has depicted her misery in pitiable terms; the Sister of Mercy has been told and comes. Guess who that Sister of Charity is? It is Clarisse! Clarisse, who finds her sister weak, broken down, dying! Clarisse is in mourning, for Albert is dead. When Adèle recognises Clarisse, she faints away. Whilst Clarisse is bringing her back to consciousness with salts, the magistrates enter, brought by Amélie Laferrier. Naturally the meeting lacks effusion. The magistrates have come to arrest Madame Laurencin; but, as they must do this legally, they have sent to fetch the mayor. He arrives, and is Darcey, Amélie's husband, having become mayor of his arrondissement, thanks to conduct diametrically opposite to that of his wife! He is followed by his faithful Valdeja. The author does not tell us if Valdeja has been appointed deputy mayor under Darcey; it is likely, for, without this, how would he be there?

"Quelle est cette femme que l'on parle d'arrêter? demande Darcey.

--C'est la vôtre, monsieur! votre pauvre femme!

--Ma femme! répond Darcey, qui repousse le mot avec indignation."

It is a rude shock for Adèle: knowing herself to be dying, she raises herself up and asks her husband's forgiveness.

"Jamais! répond Darcey."

Adèle utters a cry and falls into an armchair.

"DARCEY, _se laissant entraîner, dit à Valdeja, qui le pousse vers Adèle._

Tu le veux? Eh bien ... _(En ce moment, Adèle rend le dernier soupir.)_ Dieu! il n'est plus temps!

VALDEJA.

Elle expire! _(À Amélie et à Sophie.)_ Femmes, prenez ce cadavre! prenez-le donc, il est à vous ... Vos œuvres méritaient un salaire: le voilà! Honte à vous et à toutes vos semblables! _(À Darcey) À toi la liberté!_

DARCEY, _lui montrant Clarisse._

_Et à toi, je l'espère, bientôt le bonheur!_"

These two last touches are a trifle harsh, it seems to us, before the body of Adèle and Clarisse's mourning garb; so harsh that, were we members of the Academy and deputed to award the prize for morality, it would be a ground for withholding the prize from the drama _Dix ans de la vie d'une femme._

[Footnote 1: TRANSLATOR'S NOTE, _Rosière_.--A young girl who in village life is awarded the prize of a rose for virtue.]