Sentimental Education; Or, The History of a Young Man. Volume 1

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  SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION

  OR, _THE HISTORY OF A YOUNG MAN_

  BY GUSTAVE FLAUBERT

  _VOLUME I._

  M. WALTER DUNNE NEW YORK AND LONDON

  COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY M. WALTER DUNNE PUBLISHER

  She wore a wide straw hat with red ribbons, whichfluttered in the wind behind her.]

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I. A PROMISING PUPIL

  CHAPTER II. DAMON AND PYTHIAS

  CHAPTER III. SENTIMENT AND PASSION

  CHAPTER IV. THE INEXPRESSIBLE SHE!

  CHAPTER V. "LOVE KNOWETH NO LAWS"

  CHAPTER VI. BLIGHTED HOPES

  CHAPTER VII. CHANGE OF FORTUNE

  CHAPTER VIII. FREDERICK ENTERTAINS

  CHAPTER IX. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY

  CHAPTER X. AT THE RACES

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  SHE WORE A WIDE STRAW HAT WITH RED RIBBONS, WHICH FLUTTERED IN THE WINDBEHIND HER

  "LAUGH, THEN! SHED NO MORE TEARS--BE HAPPY!"

  THEN SHE SEIZED HIM BY THE EARS AND KISSED HIM

  SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION

  CHAPTER I.

  A Promising Pupil.

  On the 15th of September, 1840, about six o'clock in the morning, the_Ville de Montereau_, just on the point of starting, was sending forthgreat whirlwinds of smoke, in front of the Quai St. Bernard.

  People came rushing on board in breathless haste. The traffic wasobstructed by casks, cables, and baskets of linen. The sailors answerednobody. People jostled one another. Between the two paddle-boxes waspiled up a heap of parcels; and the uproar was drowned in the loudhissing of the steam, which, making its way through the plates ofsheet-iron, enveloped everything in a white cloud, while the bell at theprow kept ringing continuously.

  At last, the vessel set out; and the two banks of the river, stockedwith warehouses, timber-yards, and manufactories, opened out like twohuge ribbons being unrolled.

  A young man of eighteen, with long hair, holding an album under his arm,remained near the helm without moving. Through the haze he surveyedsteeples, buildings of which he did not know the names; then, with aparting glance, he took in the Ile St. Louis, the Cite, Notre Dame; andpresently, as Paris disappeared from his view, he heaved a deep sigh.

  Frederick Moreau, having just taken his Bachelor's degree, was returninghome to Nogent-sur-Seine, where he would have to lead a languishingexistence for two months, before going back to begin his legal studies.His mother had sent him, with enough to cover his expenses, to Havre tosee an uncle, from whom she had expectations of his receiving aninheritance. He had returned from that place only yesterday; and heindemnified himself for not having the opportunity of spending a littletime in the capital by taking the longest possible route to reach hisown part of the country.

  The hubbub had subsided. The passengers had all taken their places. Someof them stood warming themselves around the machinery, and the chimneyspat forth with a slow, rhythmic rattle its plume of black smoke. Littledrops of dew trickled over the copper plates; the deck quivered with thevibration from within; and the two paddle-wheels, rapidly turning round,lashed the water. The edges of the river were covered with sand. Thevessel swept past rafts of wood which began to oscillate under therippling of the waves, or a boat without sails in which a man satfishing. Then the wandering haze cleared off; the sun appeared; the hillwhich ran along the course of the Seine to the right subsided bydegrees, and another rose nearer on the opposite bank.

  It was crowned with trees, which surrounded low-built houses, coveredwith roofs in the Italian style. They had sloping gardens divided byfresh walls, iron railings, grass-plots, hot-houses, and vases ofgeraniums, laid out regularly on the terraces where one could leanforward on one's elbow. More than one spectator longed, on beholdingthose attractive residences which looked so peaceful, to be the owner ofone of them, and to dwell there till the end of his days with a goodbilliard-table, a sailing-boat, and a woman or some other object todream about. The agreeable novelty of a journey by water made suchoutbursts natural. Already the wags on board were beginning their jokes.Many began to sing. Gaiety prevailed, and glasses of brandy were pouredout.

  Frederick was thinking about the apartment which he would occupy overthere, on the plan of a drama, on subjects for pictures, on futurepassions. He found that the happiness merited by the excellence of hissoul was slow in arriving. He declaimed some melancholy verses. Hewalked with rapid step along the deck. He went on till he reached theend at which the bell was; and, in the centre of a group of passengersand sailors, he saw a gentleman talking soft nothings to acountry-woman, while fingering the gold cross which she wore over herbreast. He was a jovial blade of forty with frizzled hair. His robustform was encased in a jacket of black velvet, two emeralds sparkled inhis cambric shirt, and his wide, white trousers fell over odd-lookingred boots of Russian leather set off with blue designs.

  The presence of Frederick did not discompose him. He turned round andglanced several times at the young man with winks of enquiry. He nextoffered cigars to all who were standing around him. But getting tired,no doubt, of their society, he moved away from them and took a seatfurther up. Frederick followed him.

  The conversation, at first, turned on the various kinds of tobacco, thenquite naturally it glided into a discussion about women. The gentlemanin the red boots gave the young man advice; he put forward theories,related anecdotes, referred to himself by way of illustration, and hegave utterance to all these things in a paternal tone, with theingenuousness of entertaining depravity.

  He was republican in his opinions. He had travelled; he was familiarwith the inner life of theatres, restaurants, and newspapers, and knewall the theatrical celebrities, whom he called by their Christian names.Frederick told him confidentially about his projects; and the elder mantook an encouraging view of them.

  But he stopped talking to take a look at the funnel, then he wentmumbling rapidly through a long calculation in order to ascertain "howmuch each stroke of the piston at so many times per minute would cometo," etc., and having found the number, he spoke about the scenery,which he admired immensely. Then he gave expression to his delight athaving got away from business.

  Frederick regarded him with a certain amount of respect, and politelymanifested a strong desire to know his name. The stranger, without amoment's hesitation, replied:

  "Jacques Arnoux, proprietor of _L'Art Industriel_, BoulevardMontmartre."

  A man-servant in a gold-laced cap came up and said:

  "Would Monsieur have the kindness to go below? Mademoiselle is crying."

  _L'Art Industriel_ was a hybrid establishment, wherein the functions ofan art-journal and a picture-shop were combined. Frederick had seen thistitle several times in the bookseller's window in his native place onbig prospectuses, on which the name of Jacques Arnoux displayed itselfmagisterially.

  The sun's rays fell perpendicularly, shedding a glittering light on theiron hoops around the masts, the plates of the barricades, and thesurface of the water, which, at the prow, was cut into two furrows thatspread out as far as the borders of the meadows. At each winding of theriver, a screen of pale poplars presented itself with the utmostuniformity. The surrounding country at this point had an empty look. Inthe sky there were little white clouds which remained motionless, andthe sense of weariness, which vaguely diffused itself over everything,seemed to retard the progress of the steamboat a
nd to add to theinsignificant appearance of the passengers. Putting aside a few personsof good position who were travelling first class, they were artisans orshopmen with their wives and children. As it was customary at that timeto wear old clothes when travelling, they nearly all had their headscovered with shabby Greek caps or discoloured hats, thin black coatsthat had become quite threadbare from constant rubbing againstwriting-desks, or frock-coats with the casings of their buttons loosefrom continual service in the shop. Here and there some roll-collarwaistcoat afforded a glimpse of a calico shirt stained with coffee.Pinchbeck pins were stuck into cravats that were all torn. List shoeswere kept up by stitched straps. Two or three roughs who held in theirhands bamboo canes with leathern loops, kept looking askance at theirfellow-passengers; and fathers of families opened their eyes wide whilemaking enquiries. People chatted either standing up or squatting overtheir luggage; some went to sleep in various corners of the vessel;several occupied themselves with eating. The deck was soiled with walnutshells, butt-ends of cigars, peelings of pears, and the droppings ofpork-butchers' meat, which had been carried wrapped up in paper. Threecabinet-makers in blouses took their stand in front of the bottle case;a harp-player in rags was resting with his elbows on his instrument. Atintervals could be heard the sound of falling coals in the furnace, ashout, or a laugh; and the captain kept walking on the bridge from onepaddle-box to the other without stopping for a moment.

  Frederick, to get back to his place, pushed forward the grating leadinginto the part of the vessel reserved for first-class passengers, and inso doing disturbed two sportsmen with their dogs.

  What he then saw was like an apparition. She was seated in the middle ofa bench all alone, or, at any rate, he could see no one, dazzled as hewas by her eyes. At the moment when he was passing, she raised her head;his shoulders bent involuntarily; and, when he had seated himself, somedistance away, on the same side, he glanced towards her.

  She wore a wide straw hat with red ribbons which fluttered in the windbehind her. Her black tresses, twining around the edges of her largebrows, descended very low, and seemed amorously to press the oval of herface. Her robe of light muslin spotted with green spread out in numerousfolds. She was in the act of embroidering something; and her straightnose, her chin, her entire person was cut out on the background of theluminous air and the blue sky.

  As she remained in the same attitude, he took several turns to the rightand to the left to hide from her his change of position; then he placedhimself close to her parasol which lay against the bench, and pretendedto be looking at a sloop on the river.

  Never before had he seen more lustrous dark skin, a more seductivefigure, or more delicately shaped fingers than those through which thesunlight gleamed. He stared with amazement at her work-basket, as if itwere something extraordinary. What was her name, her place of residence,her life, her past? He longed to become familiar with the furniture ofher apartment, all the dresses that she had worn, the people whom shevisited; and the desire of physical possession yielded to a deeperyearning, a painful curiosity that knew no bounds.

  A negress, wearing a silk handkerchief tied round her head, made herappearance, holding by the hand a little girl already tall for her age.The child, whose eyes were swimming with tears, had just awakened. Thelady took the little one on her knees. "Mademoiselle was not good,though she would soon be seven; her mother would not love her any more.She was too often pardoned for being naughty." And Frederick heard thosethings with delight, as if he had made a discovery, an acquisition.

  He assumed that she must be of Andalusian descent, perhaps a Creole: hadshe brought this negress across with her from the West Indian Islands?

  Meanwhile his attention was directed to a long shawl with violet stripesthrown behind her back over the copper support of the bench. She musthave, many a time, wrapped it around her waist, as the vessel spedthrough the midst of the waves; drawn it over her feet, gone to sleep init!

  Frederick suddenly noticed that with the sweep of its fringes it wasslipping off, and it was on the point of falling into the water when,with a bound, he secured it. She said to him:

  "Thanks, Monsieur."

  Their eyes met.

  "Are you ready, my dear?" cried my lord Arnoux, presenting himself atthe hood of the companion-ladder.

  Mademoiselle Marthe ran over to him, and, clinging to his neck, shebegan pulling at his moustache. The strains of a harp were heard--shewanted to see the music played; and presently the performer on theinstrument, led forward by the negress, entered the place reserved forsaloon passengers. Arnoux recognized in him a man who had formerly beena model, and "thou'd" him, to the astonishment of the bystanders. Atlength the harpist, flinging back his long hair over his shoulders,stretched out his hands and began playing.

  It was an Oriental ballad all about poniards, flowers, and stars. Theman in rags sang it in a sharp voice; the twanging of the harp stringsbroke the harmony of the tune with false notes. He played morevigorously: the chords vibrated, and their metallic sounds seemed tosend forth sobs, and, as it were, the plaint of a proud and vanquishedlove. On both sides of the river, woods extended as far as the edge ofthe water. A current of fresh air swept past them, and Madame Arnouxgazed vaguely into the distance. When the music stopped, she moved hereyes several times as if she were starting out of a dream.

  The harpist approached them with an air of humility. While Arnoux wassearching his pockets for money, Frederick stretched out towards the caphis closed hand, and then, opening it in a shamefaced manner, hedeposited in it a louis d'or. It was not vanity that had prompted him tobestow this alms in her presence, but the idea of a blessing in which hethought she might share--an almost religious impulse of the heart.

  Arnoux, pointing out the way, cordially invited him to go below.Frederick declared that he had just lunched; on the contrary, he wasnearly dying of hunger; and he had not a single centime in his purse.

  After that, it occurred to him that he had a perfect right, as well asanyone else, to remain in the cabin.

  Ladies and gentlemen were seated before round tables, lunching, while anattendant went about serving out coffee. Monsieur and Madame Arnoux werein the far corner to the right. He took a seat on the long bench coveredwith velvet, having picked up a newspaper which he found there.

  They would have to take the diligence at Montereau for Chalons. Theirtour in Switzerland would last a month. Madame Arnoux blamed her husbandfor his weakness in dealing with his child. He whispered in her earsomething agreeable, no doubt, for she smiled. Then, he got up to drawdown the window curtain at her back. Under the low, white ceiling, acrude light filled the cabin. Frederick, sitting opposite to the placewhere she sat, could distinguish the shade of her eyelashes. She justmoistened her lips with her glass and broke a little piece of crustbetween her fingers. The lapis-lazuli locket fastened by a little goldchain to her wrist made a ringing sound, every now and then, as ittouched her plate. Those present, however, did not appear to notice it.

  At intervals one could see, through the small portholes, the side of aboat taking away passengers or putting them on board. Those who satround the tables stooped towards the openings, and called out the namesof the various places they passed along the river.

  Arnoux complained of the cooking. He grumbled particularly at the amountof the bill, and got it reduced. Then, he carried off the young mantowards the forecastle to drink a glass of grog with him. But Frederickspeedily came back again to gaze at Madame Arnoux, who had returned tothe awning, beneath which she seated herself. She was reading a thin,grey-covered volume. From time to time, the corners of her mouth curledand a gleam of pleasure lighted up her forehead. He felt jealous of theinventor of those things which appeared to interest her so much. Themore he contemplated her, the more he felt that there were yawningabysses between them. He was reflecting that he should very soon losesight of her irrevocably, without having extracted a few words from her,without leaving her even a souvenir!

  On the right, a plain stretch
ed out. On the left, a strip ofpasture-land rose gently to meet a hillock where one could seevineyards, groups of walnut-trees, a mill embedded in the grassy slopes,and, beyond that, little zigzag paths over the white mass of rocks thatreached up towards the clouds. What bliss it would have been to ascendside by side with her, his arm around her waist, while her gown wouldsweep the yellow leaves, listening to her voice and gazing up into herglowing eyes! The steamboat might stop, and all they would have to dowas to step out of it; and yet this thing, simple as it might be, wasnot less difficult than it would have been to move the sun.

  A little further on, a chateau appeared with pointed roof and squareturrets. A flower garden spread out in the foreground; and avenues ran,like dark archways, under the tall linden trees. He pictured her tohimself passing along by this group of trees. At that moment a younglady and a young man showed themselves on the steps in front of thehouse, between the trunks of the orange trees. Then the entire scenevanished.

  The little girl kept skipping playfully around the place where he hadstationed himself on the deck. Frederick wished to kiss her. She hidherself behind her nurse. Her mother scolded her for not being nice tothe gentleman who had rescued her own shawl. Was this an indirectoverture?

  "Is she going to speak to me?" he asked himself.

  Time was flying. How was he to get an invitation to the Arnoux's house?And he could think of nothing better than to draw her attention to theautumnal hues, adding:

  "We are close to winter--the season of balls and dinner-parties."

  But Arnoux was entirely occupied with his luggage. They had arrived atthe point of the river's bank facing Surville. The two bridges drewnearer. They passed a ropewalk, then a range of low-built houses, insidewhich there were pots of tar and splinters of wood; and brats wentalong the sand turning head over heels. Frederick recognised a man witha sleeved waistcoat, and called out to him:

  "Make haste!"

  They were at the landing-place. He looked around anxiously for Arnouxamongst the crowd of passengers, and the other came and shook hands withhim, saying:

  "A pleasant time, dear Monsieur!"

  When he was on the quay, Frederick turned around. She was standingbeside the helm. He cast a look towards her into which he tried to puthis whole soul. She remained motionless, as if he had done nothing.Then, without paying the slightest attentions to the obeisances of hisman-servant:

  "Why didn't you bring the trap down here?"

  The man made excuses.

  "What a clumsy fellow you are! Give me some money."

  And after that he went off to get something to eat at an inn.

  A quarter of an hour later, he felt an inclination to turn into thecoachyard, as if by chance. Perhaps he would see her again.

  "What's the use of it?" said he to himself.

  The vehicle carried him off. The two horses did not belong to hismother. She had borrowed one of M. Chambrion, the tax-collector, inorder to have it yoked alongside of her own. Isidore, having set forththe day before, had taken a rest at Bray until evening, and had slept atMontereau, so that the animals, with restored vigour, were trottingbriskly.

  Fields on which the crops had been cut stretched out in apparentlyendless succession; and by degrees Villeneuve, St. Georges, Ablon,Chatillon, Corbeil, and the other places--his entire journey--came backto his recollection with such vividness that he could now recall to mindfresh details, more intimate particulars.... Under the lowest flounce ofher gown, her foot showed itself encased in a dainty silk boot of maroonshade. The awning made of ticking formed a wide canopy over her head,and the little red tassels of the edging kept perpetually trembling inthe breeze.

  She resembled the women of whom he had read in romances. He would haveadded nothing to the charms of her person, and would have taken nothingfrom them. The universe had suddenly become enlarged. She was theluminous point towards which all things converged; and, rocked by themovement of the vehicle, with half-dosed eyelids, and his face turnedtowards the clouds, he abandoned himself to a dreamy, infinite joy.

  At Bray, he did not wait till the horses had got their oats; he walkedon along the road ahead by himself. Arnoux had, when he spoke to her,addressed her as "Marie." He now loudly repeated the name "Marie!" Hisvoice pierced the air and was lost in the distance.

  The western sky was one great mass of flaming purple. Huge stacks ofwheat, rising up in the midst of the stubble fields, projected giantshadows. A dog began to bark in a farm-house in the distance. Heshivered, seized with disquietude for which he could assign no cause.

  When Isidore had come up with him, he jumped up into the front seat todrive. His fit of weakness was past. He had thoroughly made up his mindto effect an introduction into the house of the Arnoux, and to becomeintimate with them. Their house should be amusing; besides, he likedArnoux; then, who could tell? Thereupon a wave of blood rushed up to hisface; his temples throbbed; he cracked his whip, shook the reins, andset the horses going at such a pace that the old coachman repeatedlyexclaimed:

  "Easy! easy now, or they'll get broken-winded!"

  Gradually Frederick calmed down, and he listened to what the man wassaying. Monsieur's return was impatiently awaited. Mademoiselle Louisehad cried in her anxiety to go in the trap to meet him.

  "Who, pray, is Mademoiselle Louise?"

  "Monsieur Roque's little girl, you know."

  "Ah! I had forgotten," rejoined Frederick, carelessly.

  Meanwhile, the two horses could keep up the pace no longer. They wereboth getting lame; and nine o'clock struck at St. Laurent's when hearrived at the parade in front of his mother's house.

  This house of large dimensions, with a garden looking out on the opencountry, added to the social importance of Madame Moreau, who was themost respected lady in the district.

  She came of an old family of nobles, of which the male line was nowextinct. Her husband, a plebeian whom her parents forced her to marry,met his death by a sword-thrust, during her pregnancy, leaving her anestate much encumbered. She received visitors three times a week, andfrom time to time, gave a fashionable dinner. But the number of waxcandles was calculated beforehand, and she looked forward with someimpatience to the payment of her rents. These pecuniary embarrassments,concealed as if there were some guilt attached to them, imparted acertain gravity to her character. Nevertheless, she displayed noprudery, no sourness, in the practice of her peculiar virtue. Her mosttrifling charities seemed munificent alms. She was consulted about theselection of servants, the education of young girls, and the art ofmaking preserves, and Monseigneur used to stay at her house on theoccasion of his episcopal visitations.

  Madame Moreau cherished a lofty ambition for her son. Through a sort ofprudence grounded on the expectation of favours, she did not care tohear blame cast on the Government. He would need patronage at the start;then, with its aid, he might become a councillor of State, anambassador, a minister. His triumphs at the college of Sens warrantedthis proud anticipation; he had carried off there the prize of honour.

  When he entered the drawing-room, all present arose with a great racket;he was embraced; and the chairs, large and small, were drawn up in a bigsemi-circle around the fireplace. M. Gamblin immediately asked him whatwas his opinion about Madame Lafarge. This case, the rage of the period,did not fail to lead to a violent discussion. Madame Moreau stopped it,to the regret, however, of M. Gamblin. He deemed it serviceable to theyoung man in his character of a future lawyer, and, nettled at what hadoccurred, he left the drawing-room.

  Nothing should have caused surprise on the part of a friend of PereRoque! The reference to Pere Roque led them to talk of M. Dambreuse, whohad just become the owner of the demesne of La Fortelle. But thetax-collector had drawn Frederick aside to know what he thought of M.Guizot's latest work. They were all anxious to get some informationabout his private affairs, and Madame Benoit went cleverly to work withthat end in view by inquiring about his uncle. How was that worthyrelative? They no longer heard from him. Had he not a distant cousin inAmer
ica?

  The cook announced that Monsieur's soup was served. The guestsdiscreetly retired. Then, as soon as they were alone in the dining-room,his mother said to him in a low tone:

  "Well?"

  The old man had received him in a very cordial manner, but withoutdisclosing his intentions.

  Madame Moreau sighed.

  "Where is she now?" was his thought.

  The diligence was rolling along the road, and, wrapped up in the shawl,no doubt, she was leaning against the cloth of the coupe, her beautifulhead nodding asleep.

  He and his mother were just going up to their apartments when a waiterfrom the Swan of the Cross brought him a note.

  "What is that, pray?"

  "It is Deslauriers, who wants me," said he.

  "Ha! your chum!" said Madame Moreau, with a contemptuous sneer."Certainly it is a nice hour to select!"

  Frederick hesitated. But friendship was stronger. He got his hat.

  "At any rate, don't be long!" said his mother to him.