The Tragic Comedians | Page 5

likening of one to Satan does not always exclude meditation upon
him. Clotilde was anxious to learn in what way her talk resembled
Alvan's. He being that furious creature, she thought of herself at her
wildest, which was in her estimation her best; and consequently, she
being by no means a furious creature, though very original, she could
not meditate on him without softening the outlines given him by report;
all because of the likeness between them; and, therefore, as she had
knowingly been taken for furious by very foolish people, she settled it

that Alvan was also a victim of the prejudices he scorned. It had
pleased her at times to scorn our prejudices and feel the tremendous
weight she brought on herself by the indulgence. She drew on her
recollections of the Satanic in her bosom when so situated, and never
having admired herself more ardently than when wearing that aspect,
she would have admired the man who had won the frightful title in
public, except for one thing--he was a Jew.
The Jew was to Clotilde as flesh of swine to the Jew. Her parents had
the same abhorrence of Jewry. One of the favourite similes of the
family for whatsoever grunted in grossness, wriggled with meanness,
was Jew: and it was noteworthy from the fact that a streak of the blood
was in the veins of the latest generation and might have been traced on
the maternal side.
Now a meanness that clothes itself in the Satanic to terrify cowards is
the vilest form of impudence venturing at insolence; and an insolent
impudence with Jew features, the Jew nose and lips, is past endurance
repulsive. She dismissed her contemplation of Alvan. Luckily for the
gentleman who had compared her to the Jew politician, she did not
meet him again in Italy.
She had meanwhile formed an idea of the Alvanesque in dialogue; she
summoned her forces to take aim at it, without becoming anything
Jewish, still remaining clean and Christian; and by her astonishing
practice of the art she could at any time blow up a company--scatter
mature and seasoned dames, as had they been balloons on a wind, ay,
and give our stout sex a shaking.
Clotilde rejected another aspirant proposed by her parents, and falling
into disgrace at home, she went to live for some months with an ancient
lady who was her close relative residing in the capital city where the
brain of her race is located. There it occurred that a dashing officer of
social besides military rank, dancing with her at a ball, said, for a
comment on certain boldly independent remarks she had been making:
'I see you know Alvan.'
Alvan once more.

'Indeed I do not,' she said, for she was addressing an officer high above
Alvan in social rank; and she shrugged, implying that she was almost
past contradiction of the charge.
'Surely you must,' said he; 'where is the lady who could talk and think
as you do without knowing Alvan and sharing his views!'
Clotilde was both startled and nettled.
'But I do not know him at all; I have never met him, never seen him. I
am unlikely to meet the kind of person,' she protested; and she was
amazed yet secretly rejoiced on hearing him, a noble of her own circle,
and a dashing officer, rejoin: 'Come, come, let us be honest. That is all
very well for the little midges floating round us to say of Alvan, but we
two can clasp hands and avow proudly that we both know and love the
man.'
'Were it true, I would own it at once, but I repeat, that he is a total
stranger to me,' she said, seeing the Jew under quite a different
illumination.
'Actually?'
'In honour.'
'You have never met, never seen him, never read any of his writings?'
'Never. I have heard his name, that is all.'
'Then,' the officer's voice was earnest, 'I pity him, and you no less,
while you remain strangers, for you were made for one another. Those
ideas you have expressed, nay, the very words, are Alvan's: I have
heard him use them. He has just the same original views of society and
history as yours; they're identical; your features are not unlike . . . you
talk alike: I could fancy your voice the sister of his. You look
incredulous? You were speaking of Pompeius, and you said "Plutarch's
Pompeius," and more for it is almost incredible under the supposition
that you do not know and have never listened to Alvan--you said that

Pompeius appeared to have been decorated with all the gifts of the
Gods to make the greater sacrifice of him to Caesar, who was not
personally worth a pretty woman's "bite." Come, now--you must
believe