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of Rossini； Cimarosa； or Zingarelli called up no emotion； gave no
voice to any poetry in her life； her soul was a desert。
〃Foedora presented herself as a drama before a drama。 Her lorgnette
traveled restlessly over the boxes； she was restless too beneath the
apparent calm； fashion tyrannized over her； her box； her bonnet； her
carriage； her own personality absorbed her entirely。 My merciless
knowledge thoroughly tore away all my illusions。 If good breeding
consists in self…forgetfulness and consideration for others； in
constantly showing gentleness in voice and bearing； in pleasing
others； and in making them content in themselves； all traces of her
plebeian origin were not yet obliterated in Foedora； in spite of her
cleverness。 Her self…forgetfulness was a sham； her manners were not
innate but painfully acquired； her politeness was rather subservient。
And yet for those she singled out； her honeyed words expressed natural
kindness； her pretentious exaggeration was exalted enthusiasm。 I alone
had scrutinized her grimacings； and stripped away the thin rind that
sufficed to conceal her real nature from the world； her trickery no
longer deceived me； I had sounded the depths of that feline nature。 I
blushed for her when some donkey or other flattered and complimented
her。 And yet I loved her through it all！ I hoped that her snows would
melt with the warmth of a poet's love。 If I could only have made her
feel all the greatness that lies in devotion； then I should have seen
her perfected； she would have been an angel。 I loved her as a man； a
lover； and an artist； if it had been necessary not to love her so that
I might win her； some cool…headed coxcomb； some self…possessed
calculator would perhaps have had an advantage over me。 She was so
vain and sophisticated； that the language of vanity would appeal to
her； she would have allowed herself to be taken in the toils of an
intrigue； a hard； cold nature would have gained a complete ascendency
over her。 Keen grief had pierced me to my very soul； as she
unconsciously revealed her absolute love of self。 I seemed to see her
as she one day would be； alone in the world； with no one to whom she
could stretch her hand； with no friendly eyes for her own to meet and
rest upon。 I was bold enough to set this before her one evening； I
painted in vivid colors her lonely； sad； deserted old age。 Her comment
on this prospect of so terrible a revenge of thwarted nature was
horrible。
〃 'I shall always have money；' she said； 'and with money we can always
inspire such sentiments as are necessary for our comfort in those
about us。'
〃I went away confounded by the arguments of luxury； by the reasoning
of this woman of the world in which she lived； and blamed myself for
my infatuated idolatry。 I myself had not loved Pauline because she was
poor； and had not the wealthy Foedora a right to repulse Raphael？
Conscience is our unerring judge until we finally stifle it。 A
specious voice said within me； 'Foedora is neither attracted to nor
repulses any one； she has her liberty； but once upon a time she sold
herself to the Russian count； her husband or her lover； for gold。 But
temptation is certain to enter into her life。 Wait till that moment
comes！' She lived remote from humanity； in a sphere apart； in a hell
or a heaven of her own； she was neither frail nor virtuous。 This
feminine enigma in embroideries and cashmeres had brought into play
every emotion of the human heart in mepride； ambition； love；
curiosity。
〃There was a craze just then for praising a play at a little Boulevard
theatre； prompted perhaps by a wish to appear original that besets us
all； or due to some freak of fashion。 The countess showed some signs
of a wish to see the floured face of the actor who had so delighted
several people of taste； and I obtained the honor of taking her to a
first presentation of some wretched farce or other。 A box scarcely
cost five francs； but I had not a brass farthing。 I was but half…way
through the volume of Memoirs； I dared not beg for assistance of
Finot； and Rastignac； my providence； was away。 These constant
perplexities were the bane of my life。
〃We had once come out of the theatre when it was raining heavily；
Foedora had called a cab for me before I could escape from her show of
concern； she would not admit any of my excusesmy liking for wet
weather； and my wish to go to the gaming…table。 She did not read my
poverty in my embarrassed attitude； or in my forced jests。 My eyes
would redden； but she did not understand a look。 A young man's life is
at the mercy of the strangest whims！ At every revolution of the wheels
during the journey； thoughts that burned stirred in my heart。 I tried
to pull up a plank from the bottom of the vehicle； hoping to slip
through the hole into the street； but finding insuperable obstacles； I
burst into a fit of laughter； and then sat stupefied in calm
dejection； like a man in a pillory。 When I reached my lodging； Pauline
broke in through my first stammering words with：
〃 'If you haven't any money？'
〃Ah； the music of Rossini was as nothing compared with those words。
But to return to the performance at the Funambules。
〃I thought of pawning the circlet of gold round my mother's portrait
in order to escort the countess。 Although the pawnbroker loomed in my
thoughts as one of the doors of a convict's prison； I would rather
myself have carried my bed thither than have begged for alms。 There is
something so painful in the expression of a man who asks money of you！
There are loans that mulct us of our self…respect； just as some
rebuffs from a friend's lips sweep away our last illusion。
〃Pauline was working； her mother had gone to bed。 I flung a stealthy
glance over the bed； the curtains were drawn back a little； Madame
Gaudin was in a deep sleep； I thought； when I saw her quiet； sallow
profile outlined against the pillow。
〃 'You are in trouble？' Pauline said； dipping her brush into the
coloring。
〃 'It is in your power to do me a great service； my dear child；' I
answered。
〃The gladness in her eyes frightened me。
〃 'Is it possible that she loves me？' I thought。 'Pauline；' I began。 I
went and sat near to her； so as to study her。 My tones had been so
searching that she read my thought； her eyes fell； and I scrutinized
her face。 It was so pure and frank that I fancied I could see as
clearly into her heart as into my own。
〃 'Do you love me？' I asked。
〃 'A little；passionatelynot a bit！' she cried。
〃Then she did not love me。 Her jesting tones； and a little gleeful
movement that escaped her； expressed nothing beyond a girlish； blithe
goodwill。 I told her about my distress and the predicament in which I
found myself； and asked her to help me。
〃 'You do not wish to go to the pawnbroker's yourself； M。 Raphael；'
she answered； 'and yet you would send me！'
〃I blushed in confusion at the child's reasoning。 She took my hand in
hers as if she wanted to compensate for this home…truth by her light
touch upon it。
〃 'Oh； I would willingly go；' she said； 'but it is not necessary。 I
found two five…franc pieces at the back of the piano； that had slipped
without your knowledge bet