The Marriage Contract | Page 2

and the use of arms, to ride well on

horseback, to play tennis, to acquire good manners,--in short, to possess
all the frivolous accomplishments of the old nobility,--made a young
man of the present day a finished gentleman. Accordingly, Paul took a
fencing-lesson every morning, went to the riding-school, and practised
in a pistol-gallery. The rest of his time was spent in reading novels, for
his father would never have allowed the more abstruse studies now
considered necessary to finish an education.
So monotonous a life would soon have killed the poor youth if the
death of the old man had not delivered him from this tyranny at the
moment when it was becoming intolerable. Paul found himself in
possession of considerable capital, accumulated by his father's avarice,
together with landed estates in the best possible condition. But he now
held Bordeaux in horror; neither did he like Lanstrac, where his father
had taken him to spend the summers, employing his whole time from
morning till night in hunting.
As soon as the estate was fairly settled, the young heir, eager for
enjoyment, bought consols with his capital, left the management of the
landed property to old Mathias, his father's notary, and spent the next
six years away from Bordeaux. At first he was attached to the French
embassy at Naples; after that he was secretary of legation at Madrid,
and then in London,--making in this way the tour of Europe.
After seeing the world and life, after losing several illusions, after
dissipating all the loose capital which his father had amassed, there
came a time when, in order to continue his way of life, Paul was forced
to draw upon the territorial revenues which his notary was laying by.
At this critical moment, seized by one of the so-called virtuous
impulses, he determined to leave Paris, return to Bordeaux, regulate his
affairs, lead the life of a country gentleman at Lanstrac, improve his
property, marry, and become, in the end, a deputy.
Paul was a count; nobility was once more of matrimonial value; he
could, and he ought to make a good marriage. While many women
desire a title, many others like to marry a man to whom a knowledge of
life is familiar. Now Paul had acquired, in exchange for the sum of
seven hundred thousand francs squandered in six years, that possession,

which cannot be bought and is practically of more value than gold and
silver; a knowledge which exacts long study, probation, examinations,
friends, enemies, acquaintances, certain manners, elegance of form and
demeanor, a graceful and euphonious name,--a knowledge, moreover,
which means many love-affairs, duels, bets lost on a race-course,
disillusions, deceptions, annoyances, toils, and a vast variety of
undigested pleasures. In short, he had become what is called elegant.
But in spite of his mad extravagance he had never made himself a mere
fashionable man. In the burlesque army of men of the world, the man of
fashion holds the place of a marshal of France, the man of elegance is
the equivalent of a lieutenant-general. Paul enjoyed his lesser
reputation, of elegance, and knew well how to sustain it. His servants
were well-dressed, his equipages were cited, his suppers had a certain
vogue; in short, his bachelor establishment was counted among the
seven or eight whose splendor equalled that of the finest houses in
Paris.
But--he had not caused the wretchedness of any woman; he gambled
without losing; his luck was not notorious; he was far too upright to
deceive or mislead any one, no matter who, even a wanton; never did
he leave his billets-doux lying about, and he possessed no coffer or
desk for love-letters which his friends were at liberty to read while he
tied his cravat or trimmed his beard. Moreover, not willing to dip into
his Guienne property, he had not that bold extravagance which leads to
great strokes and calls attention at any cost to the proceedings of a
young man. Neither did he borrow money, but he had the folly to lend
to friends, who then deserted him and spoke of him no more either for
good or evil. He seemed to have regulated his dissipations methodically.
The secret of his character lay in his father's tyranny, which had made
him, as it were, a social mongrel.
So, one morning, he said to a friend named de Marsay, who afterwards
became celebrated:--
"My dear fellow, life has a meaning."
"You must be twenty-seven years of age before you can find it out,"
replied de Marsay, laughing.

"Well, I am twenty-seven; and precisely because I am twenty-seven I
mean to live the life of a country gentleman at Lanstrac. I'll transport
my belongings to Bordeaux into my father's old mansion, and I'll spend
three months of the year in Paris in