Secrets of the Princesse de Cadignan | Page 9

let me violate its secrets. The letter, short and terrible, still stirs
my soul when I think of it. That dead man gives me more emotions
than all the living men I ever coquetted with; he constantly recurs to
my mind."
"What was his name?" asked the marquise.
"Oh! a very common one: Michel Chrestien."
"You have done well to tell me," said Madame d'Espard, eagerly. "I
have often heard of him. This Michel Chrestien was the intimate friend
of a remarkable man you have already expressed a wish to see,--Daniel

d'Arthez, who comes to my house some two or three times a year.
Chrestien, who was really killed at Saint-Merri, had no lack of friends.
I have heard it said that he was one of those born statesmen to whom,
like de Marsay, nothing is wanting but opportunity to become all they
might be."
"Then he had better be dead," said the princess, with a melancholy air,
under which she concealed her thoughts.
"Will you come to my house some evening and meet d'Arthez?" said
the marquise. "You can talk of your ghost."
"Yes, I will," replied the princess.


CHAPTER II
DANIEL D'ARTHEZ
A few days after this conversation Blondet and Rastignac, who knew
d'Arthez, promised Madame d'Espard that they would bring him to dine
with her. This promise might have proved rash had it not been for the
name of the princess, a meeting with whom was not a matter of
indifference to the great writer.
Daniel d'Arthez, one of the rare men who, in our day, unite a noble
character with great talent, had already obtained, not all the popularity
his works deserve, but a respectful esteem to which souls of his own
calibre could add nothing. His reputation will certainly increase; but in
the eyes of connoisseurs it had already attained its full development. He
is one of those authors who, sooner or later, are put in their right place,
and never lose it. A poor nobleman, he had understood his epoch well
enough to seek personal distinction only. He had struggled long in the
Parisian arena, against the wishes of a rich uncle who, by a
contradiction which vanity must explain, after leaving his nephew a

prey to the utmost penury, bequeathed to the man who had reached
celebrity the fortune so pitilessly refused to the unknown writer. This
sudden change in his position made no change in Daniel d'Arthez's
habits; he continued to work with a simplicity worthy of the antique
past, and even assumed new toils by accepting a seat in the Chamber of
Deputies, where he took his seat on the Right.
Since his accession to fame he had sometimes gone into society. One of
his old friends, the now-famous physician, Horace Bianchon, persuaded
him to make the acquaintance of the Baron de Rastignac, under-
secretary of State, and a friend of de Marsay, the prime minister. These
two political officials acquiesced, rather nobly, in the strong wish of
d'Arthez, Bianchon, and other friends of Michel Chrestien for the
removal of the body of that republican to the church of Saint- Merri for
the purpose of giving it funeral honors. Gratitude for a service which
contrasted with the administrative rigor displayed at a time when
political passions were so violent, had bound, so to speak, d'Arthez to
Rastignac. The latter and de Marsay were much too clever not to profit
by that circumstance; and thus they won over other friends of Michel
Chrestien, who did not share his political opinions, and who now
attached themselves to the new government. One of them, Leon Giraud,
appointed in the first instance master of petitions, became eventually a
Councillor of State.
The whole existence of Daniel d'Arthez is consecrated to work; he sees
society only by snatches; it is to him a sort of dream. His house is a
convent, where he leads the life of a Benedictine; the same sobriety of
regimen, the same regularity of occupation. His friends knew that up to
the present time woman had been to him no more than an always
dreaded circumstance; he had observed her too much not to fear her;
but by dint of studying her he had ceased to understand her,--like, in
this, to those deep strategists who are always beaten on unexpected
ground, where their scientific axioms are either modified or
contradicted. In character he still remains a simple-hearted child, all the
while proving himself an observer of the first rank. This contrast,
apparently impossible, is explainable to those who know how to
measure the depths which separate faculties from feelings; the former

proceed from the head, the latter from the heart. A man can be a great
man and a wicked one, just as he can be a fool and a devoted lover.
D'Arthez