Study of a Woman | Page 6

young woman to crystallize. There were other mistakes which
I will here pass over in silence, in order to give the ladies the pleasure
of deducing them, "ex professo," to those who are unable to guess
them.
Eugene at last went to call upon the marquise; but, on attempting to
pass into the house, the porter stopped him, saying that Madame la
marquise was out. As he was getting back into his carriage the Marquis
de Listomere came home.
"Come in, Eugene," he said. "My wife is at home."
Pray excuse the marquis. A husband, however good he may be, never
attains perfection. As they went up the staircase Rastignac perceived at
least a dozen blunders in worldly wisdom which had, unaccountably,
slipped into this page of the glorious book of his life.
When Madame de Listomere saw her husband ushering in Eugene she
could not help blushing. The young baron saw that sudden color. If the
most humble-minded man retains in the depths of his soul a certain
conceit of which he never rids himself, any more than a woman ever
rids herself of coquetry, who shall blame Eugene if he did say softly in
his own mind: "What! that fortress, too?" So thinking, he posed in his

cravat. Young men may not be grasping but they like to get a new coin
in their collection.
Monsieur de Listomere seized the "Gazette de France," which he saw
on the mantelpiece, and carried it to a window, to obtain, by
journalistic help, an opinion of his own on the state of France.
A woman, even a prude, is never long embarrassed, however difficult
may be the position in which she finds herself; she seems always to
have on hand the fig-leaf which our mother Eve bequeathed to her.
Consequently, when Eugene, interpreting, in favor of his vanity, the
refusal to admit him, bowed to Madame de Listomere in a tolerably
intentional manner, she veiled her thoughts behind one of those
feminine smiles which are more impenetrable than the words of a king.
"Are you unwell, madame? You denied yourself to visitors."
"I am well, monsieur."
"Perhaps you were going out?"
"Not at all."
"You expected some one?"
"No one."
"If my visit is indiscreet you must blame Monsieur le marquis. I had
already accepted your mysterious denial, when he himself came up, and
introduced me into the sanctuary."
"Monsieur de Listomere is not in my confidence on this point. It is not
always prudent to put a husband in possession of certain secrets."
The firm and gentle tones in which the marquise said these words, and
the imposing glance which she cast upon Rastignac made him aware
that he had posed in his cravat a trifle prematurely.
"Madame, I understand you," he said, laughing. "I ought, therefore, to
be doubly thankful that Monsieur le marquis met me; he affords me an
opportunity to offer you excuses which might be full of danger were
you not kindness itself."
The marquise looked at the young man with an air of some surprise, but
she answered with dignity:--
"Monsieur, silence on your part will be the best excuse. As for me, I
promise you entire forgetfulness, and the pardon which you scarcely
deserve."
"Madame," said Rastignac, hastily, "pardon is not needed where there
was no offence. The letter," he added, in a low voice, "which you

received, and which you must have thought extremely unbecoming,
was not intended for you."
The marquise could not help smiling, though she wished to seem
offended.
"Why deceive?" she said, with a disdainful air, although the tones of
her voice were gentle. "Now that I have duly scolded you, I am willing
to laugh at a subterfuge which is not without cleverness. I know many
women who would be taken in by it: 'Heavens! how he loves me!' they
would say."
Here the marquise gave a forced laugh, and then added, in a tone of
indulgence:--
"If we desire to continue friends let there be no more MISTAKES, of
which it is impossible that I should be the dupe."
"Upon my honor, madame, you are so--far more than you think,"
replied Eugene.
"What are you talking about?" asked Monsieur de Listomere, who, for
the last minute, had been listening to the conversation, the meaning of
which he could not penetrate.
"Oh! nothing that would interest you," replied his wife.
Monsieur de Listomere tranquilly returned to the reading of his paper,
and presently said:--
"Ah! Madame de Mortsauf is dead; your poor brother has, no doubt,
gone to Clochegourde."
"Are you aware, monsieur," resumed the marquise, turning to Eugene,
"that what you have just said is a great impertinence?"
"If I did not know the strictness of your principles," he answered,
naively, "I should think that you wished either to