Gamiani, or Two Passionate Nights. Alfred Louis Charles de Musset-Pathay

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      Extract from the memoirs of the countess of C*** concerning the author of Gamiani

       Table of Contents

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      EXTRACT FROM THE MEMOIRS

      OF THE

      COUNTESS OF C***

      CONCERNING THE AUTHOR

      OF GAMIANI

      During my stay in a certain house, I had occasion to exercise my quarrelsome disposition against a man whose glory, although it may have been brilliant, scarcely sufficed to atone for his manners.

      It goes without saying that I shall not say who he was; if anyone recognizes him, my conscience will be perfectly easy on that point, for it will be rather his fault than mine. I do not feel at all shy of mentioning my connection with him, for, as we shall see, the story of our amours is not an exchange of mere caresses, but a rapid succession of brutal attacks, of quarrels and ugly pleasantries.

      The first time I set eyes on him was, I think, the day after we had been to the Chaumière, and I was not at all in a good temper—the impression he made on me is almost impossible to describe. I was asked ​to follow Fanny into the small boudoir and did so. There was a man sitting by the fire with his back turned to me. He had very fair hair, and was thin, but of medium stature.

      I went forward a little; he was beating time on his knee with his fingers: his hands were thin, his fingers white and long. I went and sat opposite him: he raised his eyes and looked me in the face. I gazed at this juvenile wreck. One should have called him a ghost rather than a man, for he could hardly have been thirty years of age, in spite of the wrinkles that furrowed his face.

      "Where have you come from?" he asked as though waking from a dream. "I don't know you!"

      I made no answer, he began to curse.

      "Will you answer me, when I do you the honor of addressing you?" I blushed furiously and said:

      "Do I ask you who you are or where you come from? Am I obliged to show you all my papers to stand before you? I tell you at once that I haven't got any."

      He continued to look at me with a stupified air.

      I moved away towards the door.

      ​"Stay here!" he cried, "I order it."

      I did not stop to hear more, but went out.

      I went to tell the fat woman what had just happened. She shrugged her shoulders and said that I had been wrong, that this gentleman was her greatest friend; she wanted him to be treated well, that he often came to spend a week in her house; furthermore that he was very interesting, in fact one of the greatest literary men of the age.

      "What! That fellow?" I cried, astonished.

      "Yes, that fellow."

      "Well then, I should advise him to write less and to speak more politely."

      Denise was there. She bent down and whispered in my ear: "Oh, she's quite taken up with him because he has lots of money; but he's a rotten fellow, brutal, rude, and always the worse for drink. I am sorry for those who fall in love with him."

      A furious ring at the bell resounded through the house. It was my enemy who was angry because I had left him alone.

      "Don't go back," said Denise.

      "On the contrary, I shall," I replied, casting an ironical glance at the fat woman. "I was rather glad to have an opportunity of coming into contact with a genius. ​There is always something to be gained in the society of clever people."

      I returned to the boudoir.

      "Ah, there you are again," he said. "In this house, everyone obeys me. So you will do the same."

      "Perhaps."

      "There's no perhaps about it, and to begin with, you have got to have a drink with me!"

      He rang the bell. Fanny quickly appeared.

      "Bring something to drink!" he ordered.

      She came back with three bottles and two glasses.

      "Well, what would you like? Will you take a drop of rum, brandy or absinthe?"

      "Thanks very much, but I only drink wine with water in it, and I am not at all thirsty just now."

      "What the devil has that got to do with me? You've got to drink with me!"

      "No!" I answered, most decidedly.

      He swore like a trooper, and having filled up a glass with absinthe, tossed it off at a gulp.

      "Now its your turn. Drink, or I'll beat you."

      He filled up both glasses, and brought one ​to me, with tottering steps. I watched him, rather frightened by his threat, as he came towards me, but I was determined not to give way.

      I calmly took the glass he offered me, and threw the contents into the fire.

      "Oh," he cried, as he took hold of my hand and twisted me round, but without hurting me, "you are disobedient. Well, well, so much the better, I prefer that!"

      He took a handful of gold from his pocket in one hand, and a glass of liquor in the other:

      "Drink," he cried, "and I will give you all this."

      "I will not drink it." I answered.

      "Oh" he said, laughing and bowing a little, "what a splendid character! Touched neither by fear nor cupidity! That doesn't matter, I like you as you are."

      "Come and sit by me on the sofa and tell me your story." I sat down without a word.

      "You have been unhappy and persecuted, have you not? I will wager that like your companions here, your father was at least a general. Be perfectly frank about it, do you like me?"

      "I dislike you very much."

      ​"All right. You are not like other girls. They are all crazy about me. But what will you? One cannot control one's sympathies. I can't bear the others, but as to you, you seem to be out of the ordinary, and I like you. Take this gold. You have done nothing to earn it! I make you a present of it. Take it and go away. Leave me!"

      I made haste to take him at his word. I turned as I was going out, just in time to see him pouring himself out a glass of brandy.

      Denise was waiting for me at the door.

      "I was afraid he might hurt you," she said; "it seems that when anyone makes him cross, he strikes them, so I was listening in case I should have to come to your assistance."

      I thanked her, smiling. At that time, I was holding my life very cheaply, and if he had struck me for the pleasure of СКАЧАТЬ