Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [237]
thin cloud of lawn a form as white and as perfect as that of Canova's Venus. It was like a gem in a fold of tissue paper. Diane suddenly remembered where a pair of stays had been put that fastened in front, sparing a woman in a hurry the ill-spent time and fatigue of being laced. She had arranged the lace trimming of her shift and the fulness of the bosom by the time the maid had fetched her petticoat, and crowned the work by putting on her gown. While Amelie, at a sign from the maid, hooked the bodice behind, the woman brought out a pair of thread stockings, velvet boots, a shawl, and a bonnet. Amelie and the maid each drew on a stocking.
"You are the loveliest creature I ever saw!" said Amelie, insidiously kissing Diane's elegant and polished knee with an eager impulse.
"Madame has not her match!" cried the maid.
"There, there, Josette, hold your tongue," replied the Duchess.--"Have you a carriage?" she went on, to Madame Camusot. "Then come along, my dear, we can talk on the road."
And the Duchess ran down the great stairs of the Hotel de Cadignan, putting on her gloves as she went--a thing she had never been known to do.
"To the Hotel de Grandlieu, and drive fast," said she to one of her men, signing to him to get up behind.
The footman hesitated--it was a hackney coach.
"Ah! Madame la Duchesse, you never told me that the young man had letters of yours. Otherwise Camusot would have proceeded differently . . ."
"Leontine's state so occupied my thoughts that I forgot myself entirely. The poor woman was almost crazy the day before yesterday; imagine the effect on her of this tragical termination. If you could only know, child, what a morning we went through yesterday! It is enough to make one forswear love!--Yesterday Leontine and I were dragged across Paris by a horrible old woman, an old-clothes buyer, a domineering creature, to that stinking and blood-stained sty they call the Palace of Justice, and I said to her as I took her there: 'Is not this enough to make us fall on our knees and cry out like Madame de Nucingen, when she went through one of those awful Mediterranean storms on her way to Naples, "Dear God, save me this time, and never again----!" '
"These two days will certainly have shortened my life.--What fools we are ever to write!--But love prompts us; we receive pages that fire the heart through the eyes, and everything is in a blaze! Prudence deserts us--we reply----"
"But why reply when you can act?" said Madame Camusot.
"It is grand to lose oneself utterly!" cried the Duchess with pride. "It is the luxury of the soul."
"Beautiful women are excusable," said Madame Camusot modestly. "They have more opportunities of falling than we have."
The Duchess smiled.
"We are always too generous," said Diane de Maufrigneuse. "I shall do just like that odious Madame d'Espard."
"And what does she do?" asked the judge's wife, very curious.
"She has written a thousand love-notes----"
"So many!" exclaimed Amelie, interrupting the Duchess.
"Well, my dear, and not a word that could compromise her is to be found in any one of them."
"You would be incapable of maintaining such coldness, such caution," said Madame Camusot. "You are a woman; you are one of those angels who cannot stand out against the devil----"
"I have made a vow to write no more letters. I never in my life wrote to anybody but that unhappy Lucien.--I will keep his letters to my dying day! My dear child, they are fire, and sometimes we want----"
"But if they were found!" said Amelie, with a little shocked expression.
"Oh! I should say they were part of a romance I was writing; for I have copied them all, my dear, and burned the originals."
"Oh, madame, as a reward allow me to read them."
"Perhaps, child," said the Duchess. "And then you will see that he did not write such letters as those to Leontine."
This speech was woman all the world over, of every age and every land.
Madame Camusot, like the frog in la Fontaine's fable, was ready to burst her skin with the joy of going to the
"You are the loveliest creature I ever saw!" said Amelie, insidiously kissing Diane's elegant and polished knee with an eager impulse.
"Madame has not her match!" cried the maid.
"There, there, Josette, hold your tongue," replied the Duchess.--"Have you a carriage?" she went on, to Madame Camusot. "Then come along, my dear, we can talk on the road."
And the Duchess ran down the great stairs of the Hotel de Cadignan, putting on her gloves as she went--a thing she had never been known to do.
"To the Hotel de Grandlieu, and drive fast," said she to one of her men, signing to him to get up behind.
The footman hesitated--it was a hackney coach.
"Ah! Madame la Duchesse, you never told me that the young man had letters of yours. Otherwise Camusot would have proceeded differently . . ."
"Leontine's state so occupied my thoughts that I forgot myself entirely. The poor woman was almost crazy the day before yesterday; imagine the effect on her of this tragical termination. If you could only know, child, what a morning we went through yesterday! It is enough to make one forswear love!--Yesterday Leontine and I were dragged across Paris by a horrible old woman, an old-clothes buyer, a domineering creature, to that stinking and blood-stained sty they call the Palace of Justice, and I said to her as I took her there: 'Is not this enough to make us fall on our knees and cry out like Madame de Nucingen, when she went through one of those awful Mediterranean storms on her way to Naples, "Dear God, save me this time, and never again----!" '
"These two days will certainly have shortened my life.--What fools we are ever to write!--But love prompts us; we receive pages that fire the heart through the eyes, and everything is in a blaze! Prudence deserts us--we reply----"
"But why reply when you can act?" said Madame Camusot.
"It is grand to lose oneself utterly!" cried the Duchess with pride. "It is the luxury of the soul."
"Beautiful women are excusable," said Madame Camusot modestly. "They have more opportunities of falling than we have."
The Duchess smiled.
"We are always too generous," said Diane de Maufrigneuse. "I shall do just like that odious Madame d'Espard."
"And what does she do?" asked the judge's wife, very curious.
"She has written a thousand love-notes----"
"So many!" exclaimed Amelie, interrupting the Duchess.
"Well, my dear, and not a word that could compromise her is to be found in any one of them."
"You would be incapable of maintaining such coldness, such caution," said Madame Camusot. "You are a woman; you are one of those angels who cannot stand out against the devil----"
"I have made a vow to write no more letters. I never in my life wrote to anybody but that unhappy Lucien.--I will keep his letters to my dying day! My dear child, they are fire, and sometimes we want----"
"But if they were found!" said Amelie, with a little shocked expression.
"Oh! I should say they were part of a romance I was writing; for I have copied them all, my dear, and burned the originals."
"Oh, madame, as a reward allow me to read them."
"Perhaps, child," said the Duchess. "And then you will see that he did not write such letters as those to Leontine."
This speech was woman all the world over, of every age and every land.
Madame Camusot, like the frog in la Fontaine's fable, was ready to burst her skin with the joy of going to the