The Best Works of Balzac. Оноре де Бальзак

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СКАЧАТЬ in the unalloyed and sacred fervor of that one kiss without an afterthought—the first kiss by which two souls take possession of each other.

      “Ah, I will not leave you any more,” said Pauline, falling back in her chair. “I do not know how I come to be so bold!” she added, blushing.

      “Bold, my Pauline? Do not fear it. It is love, love true and deep and everlasting like my own, is it not?”

      “Speak!” she cried. “Go on speaking, so long your lips have been dumb for me.”

      “Then you have loved me all along?”

      “Loved you? Mon Dieu! How often I have wept here, setting your room straight, and grieving for your poverty and my own. I would have sold myself to the evil one to spare you one vexation! You are MY Raphael to-day, really my own Raphael, with that handsome head of yours, and your heart is mine too; yes, that above all, your heart—O wealth inexhaustible! Well, where was I?” she went on after a pause. “Oh yes! We have three, four, or five millions, I believe. If I were poor, I should perhaps desire to bear your name, to be acknowledged as your wife; but as it is, I would give up the whole world for you, I would be your servant still, now and always. Why, Raphael, if I give you my fortune, my heart, myself to-day, I do no more than I did that day when I put a certain five-franc piece in the drawer there,” and she pointed to the table. “Oh, how your exultation hurt me then!”

      “Oh, why are you rich?” Raphael cried; “why is there no vanity in you? I can do nothing for you.”

      He wrung his hands in despair and happiness and love.

      “When you are the Marquise de Valentin, I know that the title and the fortune for thee, heavenly soul, will not be worth——”

      “One hair of your head,” she cried.

      “I have millions too. But what is wealth to either of us now? There is my life—ah, that I can offer, take it.”

      “Your love, Raphael, your love is all the world to me. Are your thoughts of me? I am the happiest of the happy!”

      “Can any one overhear us?” asked Raphael.

      “Nobody,” she replied, and a mischievous gesture escaped her.

      “Come, then!” cried Valentin, holding out his arms.

      She sprang upon his knees and clasped her arms about his neck.

      “Kiss me!” she cried, “after all the pain you have given me; to blot out the memory of the grief that your joys have caused me; and for the sake of the nights that I spent in painting hand-screens——”

      “Those hand-screens of yours?”

      “Now that we are rich, my darling, I can tell you all about it. Poor boy! how easy it is to delude a clever man! Could you have had white waistcoats and clean shirts twice a week for three francs every month to the laundress? Why, you used to drink twice as much milk as your money would have paid for. I deceived you all round—over firing, oil, and even money. O Raphael mine, don’t have me for your wife, I am far too cunning!” she said laughing.

      “But how did you manage?”

      “I used to work till two o’clock in the morning; I gave my mother half the money made by my screens, and the other half went to you.”

      They looked at one another for a moment, both bewildered by love and gladness.

      “Some day we shall have to pay for this happiness by some terrible sorrow,” cried Raphael.

      “Perhaps you are married?” said Pauline. “Oh, I will not give you up to any other woman.”

      “I am free, my beloved.”

      “Free!” she repeated. “Free, and mine!”

      She slipped down upon her knees, clasped her hands, and looked at Raphael in an enthusiasm of devotion.

      “I am afraid I shall go mad. How handsome you are!” she went on, passing her fingers through her lover’s fair hair. “How stupid your Countess Foedora is! How pleased I was yesterday with the homage they all paid to me! SHE has never been applauded. Dear, when I felt your arm against my back, I heard a vague voice within me that cried, ‘He is there!’ and I turned round and saw you. I fled, for I longed so to throw my arms about you before them all.”

      “How happy you are—you can speak!” Raphael exclaimed. “My heart is overwhelmed; I would weep, but I cannot. Do not draw your hand away. I could stay here looking at you like this for the rest of my life, I think; happy and content.”

      “O my love, say that once more!”

      “Ah, what are words?” answered Valentin, letting a hot tear fall on Pauline’s hands. “Some time I will try to tell you of my love; just now I can only feel it.”

      “You,” she said, “with your lofty soul and your great genius, with that heart of yours that I know so well; are you really mine, as I am yours?”

      “For ever and ever, my sweet creature,” said Raphael in an uncertain voice. “You shall be my wife, my protecting angel. My griefs have always been dispelled by your presence, and my courage revived; that angelic smile now on your lips has purified me, so to speak. A new life seems about to begin for me. The cruel past and my wretched follies are hardly more to me than evil dreams. At your side I breathe an atmosphere of happiness, and I am pure. Be with me always,” he added, pressing her solemnly to his beating heart.

      “Death may come when it will,” said Pauline in ecstasy; “I have lived!”

      Happy he who shall divine their joy, for he must have experienced it.

      “I wish that no one might enter this dear garret again, my Raphael,” said Pauline, after two hours of silence.

      “We must have the door walled up, put bars across the window, and buy the house,” the Marquis answered.

      “Yes, we will,” she said. Then a moment later she added: “Our search for your manuscripts has been a little lost sight of,” and they both laughed like children.

      “Pshaw! I don’t care a jot for the whole circle of the sciences,” Raphael answered.

      “Ah, sir, and how about glory?”

      “I glory in you alone.”

      “You used to be very miserable as you made these little scratches and scrawls,” she said, turning the papers over.

      “My Pauline——”

      “Oh yes, I am your Pauline—and what then?”

      “Where are you living now?”

      “In the Rue Saint Lazare. And you?”

      “In the Rue de Varenne.”

      “What a long way apart we shall be until——” She stopped, and looked at her lover with a mischievous and coquettish expression.

      “But at the most we need СКАЧАТЬ