the purse- 第5部分

the　painter。



The　young　man；　hearing　these　words　rather　more　distinctly　than

all　the　others；　thought　it　time　to　retire。　Coming　back　to　the

world　of　ordinary　ideas；　he　found　a　few　commonplace　remarks　to

make；　took　leave　of　the　Baroness；　her　daughter；　and　the　two

strangers；　and　went　away；　wholly　possessed　by　the　first　raptures

of　true　love；　without　attempting　to　analyze　the　little　incidents

of　the　evening。　



On　the　morrow　the　young　painter　felt　the　most　ardent　desire　to

see　Adelaide　once　more。　If　he　had　followed　the　call　of　his

passion；　he　would　have　gone　to　his　neighbor's　door　at　six　in　the

morning；　when　he　went　to　his　studio。　However；　he　still　was

reasonable　enough　to　wait　till　the　afternoon。　But　as　soon　as　he

thought　he　could　present　himself　to　Madame　de　Rouville；　he　went

downstairs；　rang；　blushing　like　a　girl；　shyly　asked　Mademoiselle

Leseigneur；　who　came　to　let　him　in；　to　let　him　have　the　portrait

of　the　Baron。



〃But　come　in；〃　said　Adelaide；　who　had　no　doubt　heard　him　come

down　from　the　studio。



The　painter　followed；　bashful　and　out　of　countenance；　not　knowing

what　to　say；　happiness　had　so　dulled　his　wit。　To　see　Adelaide；　to

hear　the　rustle　of　her　skirt；　after　longing　for　a　whole　morning

to　be　near　her；　after　starting　up　a　hundred　time〃I　will　go　down

now〃and　not　to　have　gone；　this　was　to　him　life　so　rich　that

such　sensations；　too　greatly　prolonged；　would　have　worn　out　his

spirit。　The　heart　has　the　singular　power　of　giving　extraordinary

value　to　mere　nothings。　What　joy　it　is　to　a　traveler　to　treasure

a　blade　of　grass；　an　unfamiliar　leaf；　if　he　has　risked　his　life

to　pluck　it！　It　is　the　same　with　the　trifles　of　love。



The　old　lady　was　not　in　the　drawing…room。　When　the　young　girl

found　herself　there；　alone　with　the　painter；　she　brought　a　chair

to　stand　on；　to　take　down　the　picture；　but　perceiving　that　she

could　not　unhook　it　without　setting　her　foot　on　the　chest　of

drawers；　she　turned　to　Hippolyte；　and　said　with　a　blush：



〃I　am　not　tall　enough。　Will　you　get　it　down？〃



A　feeling　of　modesty；　betrayed　in　the　expression　of　her　face　and

the　tones　of　her　voice；　was　the　real　motive　of　her　request；　and

the　young　man；　understanding　this；　gave　her　one　of　those　glances

of　intelligence　which　are　the　sweetest　language　of　love。　Seeing

that　the　painter　had　read　her　soul；　Adelaide　cast　down　her　eyes

with　the　instinct　of　reserve　which　is　the　secret　of　a　maiden's

heart。　Hippolyte；　finding　nothing　to　say；　and　feeling　almost

timid；　took　down　the　picture；　examined　it　gravely；　carrying　it　to

the　light　of　the　window；　and　then　went　away；　without　saying　a

word　to　Mademoiselle　Leseigneur　but；　〃I　will　return　it　soon。〃



During　this　brief　moment　they　both　went　through　one　of　those

storms　of　agitation　of　which　the　effects　in　the　soul　may　be

compared　to　those　of　a　stone　flung　into　a　deep　lake。　The　most

delightful　waves　of　thought　rise　and　follow　each　other；

indescribable；　repeated；　and　aimless；　tossing　the　heart　like　the

circular　ripples；　which　for　a　long　time　fret　the　waters；　starting

from　the　point　where　the　stone　fell。



Hippolyte　returned　to　the　studio　bearing　the　portrait。　His　easel

was　ready　with　a　fresh　canvas；　and　his　palette　set；　his　brushes

cleaned；　the　spot　and　the　light　carefully　chosen。　And　till　the

dinner　hour　he　worked　at　the　painting　with　the　ardor　artists

throw　into　their　whims。　He　went　again　that　evening　to　the　Baronne

de　Rouville's；　and　remained　from　nine　till　eleven。　Excepting　the

different　topics　of　conversation；　this　evening　was　exactly　like

the　last。　The　two　old　men　arrived　at　the　same　hour；　the　same　game

of　piquet　was　played；　the　same　speeches　made　by　the　players；　the

sum　lost　by　Adelaide's　friend　was　not　less　considerable　than　on

the　previous　evening；　only　Hippolyte；　a　little　bolder；　ventured

to　chat　with　the　young　girl。



A　week　passed　thus；　and　in　the　course　of　it　the　painter's

feelings　and　Adelaide's　underwent　the　slow　and　delightful

transformations　which　bring　two　souls　to　a　perfect　understanding。

Every　day　the　look　with　which　the　girl　welcomed　her　friend　grew

more　intimate；　more　confiding；　gayer；　and　more　open；　her　voice

and　manner　became　more　eager　and　more　familiar。　They　laughed　and

talked　together；　telling　each　other　their　thoughts；　speaking　of

themselves　with　the　simplicity　of　two　children　who　have　made

friends　in　a　day；　as　much　as　if　they　had　met　constantly　for　three

years。　Schinner　wished　to　be　taught　piquet。　Being　ignorant　and　a

novice；　he；　of　course；　made　blunder　after　blunder；　and　like　the

old　man；　he　lost　almost　every　game。　Without　having　spoken　a　word

of　love　the　lovers　knew　that　they　were　all　in　all　to　one　another。

Hippolyte　enjoyed　exerting　his　power　over　his　gentle　little

friend；　and　many　concessions　were　made　to　him　by　Adelaide；　who；

timid　and　devoted　to　him；　was　quite　deceived　by　the　assumed　fits

of　temper；　such　as　the　least　skilled　lover　and　the　most　guileless

girl　can　affect；　and　which　they　constantly　play　off；　as　spoilt

children　abuse　the　power　they　owe　to　their　mother's　affection。

Thus　all　familiarity　between　the　girl　and　the　old　Count　was　soon

put　a　stop　to。　She　understood　the　painter's　melancholy；　and　the

thoughts　hidden　in　the　furrows　on　his　brow；　from　the　abrupt　tone

of　the　few　words　he　spoke　when　the　old　man　unceremoniously　kissed

Adelaide's　hands　or　throat。



Mademoiselle　Leseigneur；　on　her　part；　soon　expected　her　lover　to

give　a　short　account　of　all　his　actions；　she　was　so　unhappy；　so

restless　when　Hippolyte　did　not　come；　she　scolded　him　so

effectually　for　his　absence；　that　the　painter　had　to　give　up

seeing　his　other　friends；　and　now　went　nowhere。　Adelaide　allowed

the　natural　jealousy　of　women　to　be　perceived　when　she　heard　that

sometimes　at　eleven　o'clock；　on　quitting　the　house；　the　painter

still　had　visits　to　pay；　and　was　to　be　seen　in　the　most　brilliant

drawing…rooms　of　Paris。　This　mode　of　life；　she　assured　him；　was

bad　for　his　health；　then；　with　the　intense　conviction　to　which

the　accent；　the　emphasis　and　the　look　of　one　we　love　lend　so　much

weight；　she　asserted　that　a　man　who　was　obliged　to　expend　his

time　and　the　charms　of　his　wit　on　several　women　at　once　could　not

be　the　object　of　any　very　warm　affection。　Thus　the　painter　was

led；　as　much　by　the　tyranny　of　his　passion　as　by　the　exactions　of

a　girl　in　love；　to　live　exclusively　in　the　little　apartment　where

everything　attracted　him。



And　never　was　there　a　purer　or　more　ardent　love。　On　both　sides

the　same　trustfulness；　the　same　delicacy；　gave　their　passion

increase　without　the　aid　of　those　sacrifices　by　which　many

persons　try　to　prove　their　affection。　Between　these　two　there　was

such　a　constant　interchange　of　sweet　emotion　that　they　knew　not

which　gave　or　received　the　most。



A　spontaneous　affinity　made　the　union　of　their　souls　a　close　one。

The　progress　of　this　true　feeling　was　so　rapid　that　two　months

after　the　accident　to　which　the　painter　owed　the　happiness　of

knowing　Adelaide；　their　lives　were　one　life。　From　early　morning

the　young　girl；　hearing　footsteps　overhead；　could　say　to　herself；

〃He　is　there。〃　When　Hippolyte　went　home　to　his　mother　at　the

dinner　hour　he　never　failed　to　look　in　on　his　neighbors；　and　in

the　evening　he　flew　there　at　the　accustomed　hour　with　a　lover's

punctuality。　Thus　the　most　tyrannical　woman　or　the　most　ambitious

in　the　matter　of　love　could　not　have　found　the　smallest　fault

with　the　young　painter。　And　Adelaide　tasted　of　unmixed　and

unbounded　happiness　as　she　saw　the　fullest　realization　of　the

ideal　of　which；　at　her　age；　it　is　so　natural　to　dream。



The　old　gentleman　now　came　more　rarely；　Hippolyte；　who　had　been

jealous；　had　taken　his　place　at　the　green　table；　and　shared　his

constant　ill…luck　at　cards。　And　sometimes；　in　the　midst　of　his

happiness；　as　he　considered　Madame　de　Rouville's　disastrous

positionfor　he　had　had　more　than　one　proof　of　her　extreme

povertyan　importunate　thought　would　haunt　him。　Several　times　he

had　said　to　himself　as　he　went　home；　〃Strange！　twenty　francs

every　evening？〃　and　he　dared　not　confess　to　himself　his　odious

suspicions。



He　spent　two　months　over　the　portrait；　and　when　it　was　finished；

varnished；　and　framed；　he　looked　upon　it　as　one　of　his　best

works。　Madame　la　Baronne　de　Rouville　had　never　spoken　of　it

again。　Was　this　from　indifference　or　pride？　The　painter　would　not

allow　himself　to　account　for　this　silence。　He　joyfully　plotted

with　Adelaide　to　hang　the　picture　in　its　place　when　Madame　de

Rouville　should　be　out。　So　one　day；　during　the　walk　her　mother

usually　took　in　the　Tuileries；　Adelaide　for　the　first　time　went

up　to　Hippolyte's　studio；　on　the　pretext　of　seeing　the　portrait

in　the　good　light　in　which　it　had　been　painted。　She　stood

speechless　and　motionless；　but　in　ecstatic　contemplation；　in

which　all　a　woman's　feelings　were　merged。　For　are　they　not　all

comprehended　in　boundless　admiration　for　the　man　she　loves？　When

the　painter；　uneasy　at　her　silence；　leaned　forward　to　look　at

her；　she　held　out　her　hand；　unable　to　speak　a　word；　but　two　tears

fell　from　her　eyes。　Hippolyte　took　her　hand　and　covered　it　with

kisses；　for　a　minute　they　looked　at　each　other　in　silence；　both

longing　to　confess　their　love；　and　not　daring。　The　painter　kept

her　hand　in　his；　and　the　same　glow；　the　same　throb；　told　them

that　their　hearts　were　both　beating　wildly。　The　young　girl；　too

greatly　agitated；　gently　drew　away　from　Hippolyte；　and　said；　with

a　look　of　the　utmost　simplicity：



〃You　will　make　my　mother　very　happy。〃



〃What；　only　your　mother？〃　he　asked。



〃Oh；　I　am　too　happy。〃



The　painter　bent　his　head　and　remained　silent；　frightened　at　the

vehemence　of　the　feelings　which　her　tones　stirred　in　his　heart。

Then；　both　understanding　the　perils　of　the　situation；　they　went

downstairs　and　hung　up　the　picture　in　its　place。　Hippolyte　dined

for　the　first　time　with　the　Baroness；　who；　greatly　overcome；　and

drowned