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twelve years。
When I had finished school my father left me under the guardianship of
Monsieur Lepitre。 I was to study the higher mathematics； follow a
course of law for one year； and begin philosophy。 Allowed to study in
my own room and released from the classes； I expected a truce with
trouble。 But； in spite of my nineteen years； perhaps because of them；
my father persisted in the system which had sent me to school without
food； to an academy without pocket…money； and had driven me into debt
to Doisy。 Very little money was allowed to me； and what can you do in
Paris without money？ Moreover； my freedom was carefully chained up。
Monsieur Lepitre sent me to the law school accompanied by a man…of…
all…work who handed me over to the professor and fetched me home
again。 A young girl would have been treated with less precaution than
my mother's fears insisted on for me。 Paris alarmed my parents； and
justly。 Students are secretly engaged in the same occupation which
fills the minds of young ladies in their boarding…schools。 Do what you
will； nothing can prevent the latter from talking of lovers； or the
former of women。 But in Paris； and especially at this particular time；
such talk among young lads was influenced by the oriental and sultanic
atmosphere and customs of the Palais…Royal。
The Palais…Royal was an Eldorado of love where the ingots melted away
in coin； there virgin doubts were over； there curiosity was appeased。
The Palais…Royal and I were two asymptotes bearing one towards the
other； yet unable to meet。 Fate miscarried all my attempts。 My father
had presented me to one of my aunts who lived in the Ile St。 Louis。
With her I was to dine on Sundays and Thursdays； escorted to the house
by either Monsieur or Madame Lepitre； who went out themselves on those
days and were to call for me on their way home。 Singular amusement for
a young lad！ My aunt； the Marquise de Listomere； was a great lady； of
ceremonious habits； who would never have dreamed of offering me money。
Old as a cathedral； painted like a miniature； sumptuous in dress； she
lived in her great house as though Louis XV。 were not dead； and saw
none but old women and men of a past day；a fossil society which made
me think I was in a graveyard。 No one spoke to me and I had not the
courage to speak first。 Cold and alien looks made me ashamed of my
youth； which seemed to annoy them。 I counted on this indifference to
aid me in certain plans； I was resolved to escape some day directly
after dinner and rush to the Palais…Royal。 Once seated at whist my
aunt would pay no attention to me。 Jean； the footman； cared little for
Monsieur Lepitre and would have aided me； but on the day I chose for
my adventure that luckless dinner was longer than usual；either
because the jaws employed were worn out or the false teeth more
imperfect。 At last； between eight and nine o'clock； I reached the
staircase； my heart beating like that of Bianca Capello on the day of
her flight； but when the porter pulled the cord I beheld in the street
before me Monsieur Lepitre's hackney…coach； and I heard his pursy
voice demanding me！
Three times did fate interpose between the hell of the Palais…Royal
and the heaven of my youth。 On the day when I； ashamed at twenty years
of age of my own ignorance； determined to risk all dangers to put an
end to it； at the very moment when I was about to run away from
Monsieur Lepitre as he got into the coach；a difficult process； for
he was as fat as Louis XVIII。 and club…footed；well； can you believe
it； my mother arrived in a post…chaise！ Her glance arrested me； I
stood still； like a bird before a snake。 What fate had brought her
there？ The simplest thing in the world。 Napoleon was then making his
last efforts。 My father； who foresaw the return of the Bourbons； had
come to Paris with my mother to advise my brother； who was employed in
the imperial diplomatic service。 My mother was to take me back with
her； out of the way of dangers which seemed； to those who followed the
march of events intelligently； to threaten the capital。 In a few
minutes； as it were； I was taken out of Paris； at the very moment when
my life there was about to become fatal to me。
The tortures of imagination excited by repressed desires； the
weariness of a life depressed by constant privations had driven me to
study； just as men； weary of fate； confine themselves in a cloister。
To me； study had become a passion； which might even be fatal to my
health by imprisoning me at a period of life when young men ought to
yield to the bewitching activities of their springtide youth。
This slight sketch of my boyhood； in which you； Natalie； can readily
perceive innumerable songs of woe； was needful to explain to you its
influence on my future life。 At twenty years of age； and affected by
many morbid elements； I was still small and thin and pale。 My soul；
filled with the will to do； struggled with a body that seemed weakly；
but which； in the words of an old physician at Tours； was undergoing
its final fusion into a temperament of iron。 Child in body and old in
mind； I had read and thought so much that I knew life metaphysically
at its highest reaches at the moment when I was about to enter the
tortuous difficulties of its defiles and the sandy roads of its
plains。 A strange chance had held me long in that delightful period
when the soul awakes to its first tumults； to its desires for joy； and
the savor of life is fresh。 I stood in the period between puberty and
manhood；the one prolonged by my excessive study； the other tardily
developing its living shoots。 No young man was ever more thoroughly
prepared to feel and to love。 To understand my history； let your mind
dwell on that pure time of youth when the mouth is innocent of
falsehood； when the glance of the eye is honest； though veiled by lids
which droop from timidity contradicting desire； when the soul bends
not to worldly Jesuitism； and the heart throbs as violently from
trepidation as from the generous impulses of young emotion。
I need say nothing of the journey I made with my mother from Paris to
Tours。 The coldness of her behavior repressed me。 At each relay I
tried to speak； but a look； a word from her frightened away the
speeches I had been meditating。 At Orleans； where we had passed the
night； my mother complained of my silence。 I threw myself at her feet
and clasped her knees； with tears I opened my heart。 I tried to touch
hers by the eloquence of my hungry love in accents that might have
moved a stepmother。 She replied that I was playing comedy。 I
complained that she had abandoned me。 She called me an unnatural
child。 My whole nature was so wrung that at Blois I went upon the
bridge to drown myself in the Loire。 The height of the parapet
prevented my suicide。
When I reached home； my two sisters； who did not know me； showed more
surprise than tenderness。 Afterwards； however； they seemed； by
comparison； to be full of kindness towards