Raphael - Pages of the Book of Life at Twenty | Page 9

house, in the higher
part of the town of Aix, where invalids were admitted to board. The
establishment was conducted by a worthy old doctor (who had retired

from the profession), and communicated with the town by a narrow
pathway, which lay between the streams that issue from the hot springs.
The back of the house looked on a garden surrounded by trellis and
vine arbors; and beyond that there were paths where goats only were to
be seen, which led to the mountain through sloping meadows, and
through woods of chestnut and walnut-trees. Louis had promised to
join me at Aix, as soon as he should have settled some business,
consequent on the death of his mother, which detained him at
Chambéry. I looked forward with pleasure to his arrival, for we
understood each other, and the same feeling of disenchantment was
common to us both. Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than
happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than
common joys. Louis was, at that particular time, the only person whose
society was not distasteful to me, and yet I awaited his arrival without
eagerness or impatience.

V.
I was kindly and graciously received in the house of the old doctor, and
a room was allotted to me, which overlooked the garden and the
country beyond. Almost all the other rooms were untenanted, and the
long table d'hôte was deserted. At meal times a few invalids from
Chambéry and Turin, who had over-stayed the season, assembled with
the family. These boarders had arrived late, when most of the visitors
of the baths were already gone, in hopes of finding cheaper lodgings,
and a style of living in accordance with their poverty. There was no one
with whom I could converse or form a passing acquaintance. This the
old doctor and his wife soon saw, and threw the blame on the advanced
season, and on the bathers who had left too soon. They often spoke
with visible enthusiasm, and tender and compassionate respect, of a
young stranger, a lady, who had remained at the baths in a weak and
languid state of health, which it was feared would degenerate into slow
consumption. She had lived alone with her maid for the last three
months, in one of the most retired apartments of the house, taking her
meals in her own rooms; and was never seen except at her window that
looked towards the garden, or on the stairs when she returned from a
donkey ride in the mountains.
I felt compassion for this young creature, a stranger like myself in a

foreign land, who must be ill, since she had come in quest of health,
and was doubtless sad, since she avoided the bustle and even the sight
of company; but I felt no desire to see her spite of the admiration her
grace and beauty had excited on those around me. My worn-out heart
was wearied with wretched and short-lived attachments, of which I
blushed to preserve the memories; not one of which I could recur to
with pious regret, save that of poor Antonina. I was penitent and
ashamed of my past follies and disorders; disgusted and satiated of
vulgar allurements; and being naturally of a timid and reserved
disposition, without that self-confidence which prompts some men to
court adventures, or to seek the familiarity of chance acquaintances, I
neither wished to see nor to be seen. Still less did I dream of love. On
the contrary, I rejoiced, in my stern and mistaken pride, to think that I
had forever stifled that weakness in my heart, and that I was alone to
feel, or to suffer in this nether world. As to happiness, I no longer
believed in it.

VI.
I passed my days in my room with no other company than some books
which my friend had sent me from Chambéry. In the afternoon, I used
to ramble alone amid the wild mountains which, on the Italian side,
form the boundary of the valley of Aix; and returning home in the
evening, harassed and fatigued, would sit down to supper, and then
retire to my room and spend whole hours seated at my window. I gazed
at the blue firmament above, which, like the abyss attracting him who
leans over it, ever attracts the thoughts of men as though it had secrets
to reveal. Sleep found me still wandering on a sea of thoughts, and
seeking no shore. When morning came, I was awaked by the rays of the
sun and by the murmur of the hot springs; and I would plunge into my
bath, and after breakfast recommence the same rambles and the same
melancholy musings as the day before. Sometimes in the evening,
when I looked out of