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arrogance had forever alienated, in 1814.3 They were not aristocrats, and he’d wanted to break
away from the spirit of equality in which they had lived since childhood.
One,rappelz gold, Falcoz, a warmhearted, spirited man, a paper merchant in Verrires, had bought a
printing house in the province’s largest town and launched a newspaper. The Congregation of
the Holy Virgin decided to ruin him: his newspaper had been closed up, his printing license
had been revoked. In these difficult circumstances, he tried writing, for the first time in ten
years, to Monsieur de Ronal. The mayor of Verrires felt it his duty to respond like an old
Roman: “Had the king’s minister done me the honor of asking for my advice, I would have told
him: ‘Have no pity on the printers in this province, ruin them all, and turn printing into a
monopoly, exactly like tobacco.’ ” Monsieur de Ronal remembered the language of this letter
to his old friend?awhich at the time had earned the admiration of all Verrires?awith horror.
“Who would have said that, for all my social standing, my wealth, my awards and decorations,
I’d one day regret it?” He was in the midst of an angry frenzy, directed equally against himself
and everything around him, since he’d spent a dreadful night. Luckily,Fiesta Gold, however,ao credits, he had not
thought of spying on his wife.
“I’m used to Louise,” he told himself. “She knows all my business: if I were free to marry
tomorrow, I couldn’t replace her.” So he soothed himself with the notion that his wife was
innocent. This way of looking at things did not require of him any demonstration of character,
and it set everything in good order. “After all, how many slandered women have we seen!
“What’s going on here?” he suddenly exclaimed,Cheap EQ Plat, while walking wildly up and down. “Why
should I let her, and her lover, laugh at me as if I were a nobody, some barefoot beggar?
Should everyone in Verrires be gloating at how good-natured I am? What haven’t they said
about Charmier (who was a local fellow, a notorious cuckold)? As soon as they hear his name,
doesn’t everybody start grinning? He’s a fine lawyer: Whoever says anything about the
speeches he makes? ‘Ho, Charmier!’ they say, ‘ Barnard’s Charmier’?awhich is what they call
him, since that’s the name of the other fellow, the man who’s disgracing him.”
“God be praised,” said Monsieur de Ronal, at other moments, “that I don’t have a
daughter: however I decide to punish the children’s mother, that won’t interfere with any
doweries. Maybe I can catch the little peasant with my wife, and kill them both. That way, the
tragedy might wipe away all the ridicule.” This idea made him smile; he worked it out in full
detail. “The penal code is on my side and, no matter what happens, the Congregation of the
Holy Virgin and my friends on the jury will save me.” He examined his hunting knife, which
was very sharp. But the idea of blood frightened him.
“I could beat up this arrogant tutor, and run him off. But what a scandal in Verrires, and
even in the whole province! After Falcoz’s newspaper was shut down, and his editor in chief
got out of prison, I was one of those who kept him from getting a job worth six hundred
francs. They say this scribbler has had the nerve to show up in Besan on: he could thoroughly
thump me, in print, and do it so skillfully I could not sue him. Sue him! … The arrogant fellow
would find a thousand ways of hinting that everything he’d said was true. A well-born man
who preserves his social standing is universally hated by the lower classes. I can just see my
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name in those ghastly Parisian newspapers. Oh God! What a bottomless pit! To see the ancient
name of Ronal muddied with the muck of ridicule…If I ever traveled, I’d have to change my
name. Ha! Give up this name, which has created my glory and my power! What a heap of
wretchedness!
3 The year of the first fall of Napoleon, a nd the initial return of the Bourbons, before the Hundred Days and
Waterloo. Ancien r|gime class distinctions became important again, at least among aristocrats of the stripe of
Monsieur de Rona l. The names of Ronal’s old friends come from two Grenoble acquaintances of young
Stendhal,Fiesta Online Gold, whom the author remembered fondly: Falcoz was a bookseller and Ducros a librarian.
“If I don’t kill my wife, just drive her away in disgrace, she has her aunt in Besan on,
who’ll back her with her entire fortune. My wife will go live in Paris, with Julien. Everyone in
Verrires will know about it, and I’ll still be taken for a stupid fool.”
Then the miserable man became aware, by the thin light coming from his lamp, that
dawn was coming. He went out to take a bit of fresh air in the garden. Right then, he had
virtually decided not to create a scandal?amostly because a scandal would give such immense
pleasure to his good friends in Verrires.
Walking in the garden calmed him a little. “No,DDO Platinum,” he exclaimed inwardly,Buy DDO Platinum, “I’m not going to
deprive myself of my wife, she’s much too useful to me.” He pictured to himself, with horror,
what the house would be like without his wife. He had no relative except the Marquise de R?a
?a?a, a widow, an imbecile, and ill-natured.
A wonderfully sensible idea began to come to him?abut carrying it off would require a
strength of character far superior to what the poor man actually possessed. “If I keep my wife,”
he told himself,Cheap EQ Plat, “I know that, some day, if she provokes me, I’ll reproach her for her sin. She’s
proud, we’ll separate?aand that will happen even before she’s inherited her aunt’s estate. Oh,
how they’ll make fun of me! My wife loves her children; in the end they’ll go to her. But me, I’ll
be the talk of Verrires. ‘What?’ they’ll say. ‘Didn’t he even know how to get revenge on his
wife?’ Wouldn’t it better to be satisfied with being suspicious, and not go hunting for proof?
But then I’d be tying my own hands, I’d never again be able to reproach her for anything.”
The next minute, having revived his wounded vanity, Monsieur de Ronal recalled, in great
detail, all the various tricks recited at Verrires’s casino and at the gentlemen’s club,4 when
some sharp-tongued fellow would interrupt their play at billiards, amusing himself by cutting
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up a deluded husband. But, now, how cruel those witticisms seemed to him!
“God! Why isn’t my wife dead! Then I wouldn’t be open to ridicule. If only I were a
widower! I’d go to Paris and spend six months in the best society.” After a moment of
happiness, inspired by the thought of becoming a widower, his mind began to toy with ways of
finding out the truth. At midnight, once everyone was in bed, could he spread a thin layer of
bran in front of the door to Julien’s room? The next morning, at daybreak, he’d be able to see
the footprints.
“But what good would it be,” he swore to himself, suddenly and violently. “That slut Elisa
would have seen it, and everyone in the house knows how jealous I am.”
In another of the stories told at the casino, a husband guaranteed his misfortune by
sticking a bit of wax,rappelz rupees, like a seal, on his wife’s door and on that of her lover.
After so many hours of circling around and around, this way of shedding light on his fate
struck him, decidedly, as the best of all, and he had begun to think how to work it out when
the walkway curved and, coming toward him, there was his wife, whom he had hoped to see
dead.
She was coming back from the village. She had gone to hear mass at the church in Vergy.
A vague tradition, on which philosophers may cast cold eyes,Buy DDO Platinum, but in which she had faith,
maintained that the little church that served them today had once been the chapel of the Lord
of Vergy. The idea so obsessed Madame de Ronal that she constantly went there to pray. She
imagined, over and over, her husband out hunting, and killing Julien, as if by accident, then
later that night making her eat his heart.
4 Monsieur de Ronal’s social clubs. In France, especially in the nineteenth century, “casino” referred not
necessarily to a gambling establishment but more generally to a place designated for public entertainments,
i.e., concerts, dancing, cards,Everquest Platinum, etc.
“My fate,” she said to herself, “depends on what he’ll think, listening to me. After that
fatal fifteen minutes, perhaps I’ll never speak to him again. He’s not someone either wise or
rational. With my own limited intelligence, I should be able to anticipate what he’ll do or say.
He will decide our shared fate; he has the power. But that fate hangs on my ability to direct
such a temperamental creature’s thoughts,atlantica online gold, blinded by anger, blocked from seeing half of
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whatever’s there to be seen. Oh Lord! I’ll need ability, I’ll need self-control. Where will I get
them?”
Entering the garden, and seeing her husband in the distance, she found that calm, as if by
magic. His wild hair and rumpled clothing showed he had not slept.
She handed him the letter, unsealed but refolded. Without opening it, he stared at his
wife with demented eyes.
“Here is an abomination,” she told him, “handed to me by some shabby fellow, who
pretended he knew you and you would recognize him, as I went by the notary’s garden. I ask
only one thing of you, which is that you send this Monsieur Julien back to his father, and
without any delay.” Madame de Ronal hurried to say these words, perhaps speaking a bit too
soon, in order to free herself of the horrible prospect of having to say them.
She was thrilled,atlantica online gold, seeing the effect she’d had on her husband. From the fixed look with
which he stared at her, she understood that Julien had guessed correctly. “Instead of torturing
himself with so real a misfortune, what genius he showed!” she thought. “What perfect tact!
And in a young man still of so little experience,Buy DDO Platinum! Where won’t he get to, later on? Alas, his
successes will make him forget me.”
Suddenly, this small tribute to the man she adored freed her of her difficulties.
She congratulated herself on this development. “I haven’t been unworthy of him,” she
told herself, with a sweet and intimate delight.
Without saying a word, for fear of committing himself, Monsieur de Ronal looked over
this second anonymous letter, written?aas my reader may recall?ain printed words, pasted on
a light blue sheet of paper. “They’re making fun of me in all sorts of ways,” Monsieur de Ronal
said to himself, worn out by fatigue.
“Still more insults to look at, and always on my wife’s account!” He was at the point of
shouting the most vulgar insults at her, hardly restrained by the thought of the Besan on
inheritance. Consumed by the need to attack her for something, he crumpled up the second
letter and set himself to walking very fast; he needed to get away from his wife. A few
moments later, he came back to her, and more calmly.
“It’s a question of making a decision and sending Julien away,” she said to him at once.
“After all, he’s a workman’s son. You can compensate him with a handful of gold coins, and,
besides,Buy Fiesta Gold, he’s a scholar and he can easily place himself elsewhere?afor example, with Monsieur
Valenod or at Monsieur de Maugiron’s house; they both have children. That way, you won’t do
him any harm…”
“You talk like the fool you are,” shouted Monsieur de Ronal, in a frightening voice. “How
can anyone expect good sense from a woman? You never pay any attention to rationality: How
could you know a thing? Your indifference, your laziness, require you to do no more than
chase butterflies?aweak beings we’re cursed to have in our families!…”
Madame de Ronal let him talk, and he talked for a long time. He got over his anger,Cheap Everquest Platinum, as
they say in the country.
“Sir,” she finally said to him, “I speak as a woman whose honor has been violated?ain
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other words, the most precious thing a woman possesses.”
Madame de Ronal maintained unyielding self-control,Phantasy Star Universe Meseta, all through this painful
conversation, on which depended the possibility of her continuing to live under the same roof
as Julien. She groped for ideas most capable of guiding her husband’s blind anger. She’d paid
no attention to all the wounding comments he’d addressed to her; she did not hear them; all
she thought about was Julien. “Will he be pleased with me?”
“This little peasant on whom we have lavished kindness,Phantasy Star Universe Meseta, and even gifts,Psu Meseta, may well be
innocent,” she finally said. “But nonetheless, he’s at least been the occasion for the first insults
I’ve ever received…Sir! When I read that awful piece of paper, I promised myself that either he
left our house, or I would.
“Do you propose to create a scandal, which will dishonor me, and you as well? You’ll thrill
the good folk of Verrires.
“It’s true: there is universal jealousy for the prosperity your administration, in its wisdom,
has attained for you, for your family,Phantasy Star Universe Meseta, and for the town…Well! I’ll get Julien to see you about
taking a month’s leave, at that timber merchant’s place on the mountain?aa worthy friend for
a little workman.”
“Don’t get excited,” replied Monsieur de Ronal, now pleasantly calm. “What I ask of you,
above all, is that you do not speak to him. You’ll make him angry, and get me into a quarrel
with him. You know how touchy this little fellow is.”
“The young man has absolutely no tact,” answered Madame de Ronal. “He may be a
scholar: you know more about that than I do. But at bottom he’s a genuine peasant. Frankly,
I’ve never thought well of him ever since he refused to marry Elisa, which would have been a
guaranteed fortune, and his excuse for so doing was that, in secret, she paid visits to Monsieur
Valenod.”
“Ah!” said Monsieur de Ronal, his eyebrows raised unusually high. “What, did Julien tell
you that?”
“No, not exactly. He’s always talked about his vocation, his call for the holy ministry. But
believe me, the primary vocation for people like him is having enough to eat. He led me to
understand, pretty clearly, that he couldn’t ignore these secret visits.”
“And me, I had to be ignorant of them!” exclaimed Monsieur de Ronal, flaring up once
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again,Phantasy Star Universe Meseta, and stressing every syllable. “Things go on in my house that I know nothing
about…What’s this? Is there something between Elisa and Monsieur Valenod?”
“Ha! That’s old news, my dear,Phantasy Star Universe Meseta,” said Madame de Ronal, laughing, “and maybe nothing
wrong happened. It was when your good friend Valenod wouldn’t have been sorry if it were
thought, in Verrires, that he and I were having?apurely platonically,Phantasy Star Universe Meseta, mind you?aa bit of a love
affair.”
“Which is what I thought, once,” cried Monsieur de Ronal, angrily slapping his head,
proceeding from one discovery to another. “And you never said anything to me about it?”
“Is there any point to making two friends quarrel, just because of our dear Valenod’s little
flush of vanity? Show me the woman in society who hasn’t received letters that were witty, and
even a touch gallant?”
“He wrote to you?”
“He wrote a lot.”
“Show me those letters?aimmediately. I command it.” And Monsieur de Ronal grew six
feet taller.
“I’ve kept them, indeed,” she answered, with a sweetness verging on indifference. “I’ll
show them to you someday, when you’re more sensible.”
“Right now, by all that’s holy!” Monsieur de Ronal shouted, made drunk with anger?aand
yet happier than he had been in the last twelve hours.
“Promise me,Psu Meseta,” said Madame de Ronal seriously, “that you won’t quarrel with Monsieur
Valenod about these letters?”
“Quarrel or no quarrel, I can take the foundling home away from him. But,” he went on,
furious, “I want those letters right now. Where are they?”
“In a drawer in my writing desk. But you may be sure I won’t give you the key.”
“I’ll damn well break it,” he shouted, running to his wife’s room.
He broke it, in fact, with an iron bar?aa precious carved mahogany writing desk, brought
from Paris, which he used to polish, often, with his coattail, whenever he thought he’d seen a
little spot.
Madame de Ronal went running up the hundred and twenty steps to the pigeon house;
she tied the corner of a white handkerchief to the little window’s iron bars. She was the very
happiest of women. With tears in her eyes, she looked out toward the great woods of the
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mountain. “Surely,” she told herself,Potbs Doubloon, “from under one of those shaggy birches, Julien can make
out this happy signal.” She listened for a long time, then cursed the noisy monotone of crickets
and birdsongs. Without these insistent sounds, a cry of joy, sent from the high rocks, would
have reached exactly where she stood. Her greedy eyes devoured the huge, dark green slope,
smooth as a meadow, shaped by the treetops. “Why hasn’t he got the wit,” she asked herself,
waiting all expectant, “to think of some signal, so he can tell me his happiness is as great as
mine?” She did not come down until she began to be afraid her husband might come looking
for her.
She found him wildly angry. He tore through Monsieur Valenod’s bland phrases, not
meant to be read with so much emotion.
Seizing a moment when her husband’s emphatic performance gave her a chance to be
understood:
“I keep coming back to my idea,” Madame de Ronal declared, “that Julien really ought to
go on a trip. Whatever skill he may have at Latin, he remains, after all, only a peasant,
frequently coarse and deficient in tact: every day, thinking himself terribly polite, he makes me
exaggerated compliments, in poor taste, that he’s learned by heart from some novel….”
“He never reads them,” Monsieur de Ronal exclaimed. “I guarantee that. Do you fancy I
run this house like a blind man, who has no awareness of what’s going on?”
“All right! If he hasn’t read these silly compliments, then he makes them up, and all the
worse for him. In Verrires, too, he must have spoken to me like that…and though I can’t quite
be sure,” said Madame de Ronal, “he must have spoken to Elisa that way: it’s how she must
sometimes have talked to Monsieur Valenod.”
“Ah!” shouted Monsieur de Ronal, shaking the table and the entire room by one of the
fiercest fist-pounding blows ever struck. “The anonymous letter, with those cut-out words,Potbs Doubloon, is
written on the same paper as Valenod’s letters to you.”
“At last!…” thought Madame de Ronal. She made herself seem thunderstruck by this
discovery,Potbs Gold, and, not having the courage to add a single word, went to the sofa, far away at the
other end of the drawing room, and sat down.
But the battle was already won. She had her hands full, stopping Monsieur de Ronal from
going to the anonymous letter’s supposed author.
“Why don’t you see that making a scene, without full and sufficient proof, would be to
give Monsieur Valenod a signal of the greatest possible clumsiness? You are envied, sir, and
who is to blame? Your own abilities: your wise administration, the tasteful construction work
you’ve had done, the fine dowry I brought you, and above all the large inheritance we can
expect from my aunt?aan inheritance which is made to seem far more important than it is?a
have made you Verrires’s leading man.”
“You forget my birth,Potbs Gold,” said Monsieur de Ronal, smiling a bit.
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“You are one of the most distinguished gentlemen in the province,” Madame de Ronal
emphatically reaffirmed. “If the king were entirely free, and able to do justice to high breeding,
you could imagine yourself, without any doubt whatever, in the House of Lords, etc. And
being in so magnificent a position, you propose to give jealousy an occasion for comment?
“To speak to Monsieur Valenod is to proclaim to all Verrires?ano, what am I saying? to
Besan on, to the whole province?athat this minor shopkeeper, who has been admitted,
perhaps unwisely, to intimacy with a Ronal, has found a way of insulting you. If these letters,
which you’ve now obtained, were to prove I’d responded to Monsieur Valenod’s lovemaking,
you’d be obliged to kill me,Potbs Gold, and I’d deserve it a hundred times over?abut not to confront him
in anger. Think: All your neighbors need no more than an excuse, they’ve been waiting for
revenge on your superiority. Think: In 18165 you played a part in certain people’s arrest. That
man who was hiding on his roof?a”
“What I think is that you feel neither respect nor goodwill toward me,” exclaimed
Monsieur de Ronal, with all the bitterness that such a memory revived. “And I was never made
a peer!”6
“What I think, my dear,” Madame de Ronal responded, laughing, “is that I will be richer
than you, that I’ve been your companion for twelve years, and that on all these matters I’m
entitled to have a voice, and above all in today’s business. If you’d rather have Monsieur Julien
than me,Potbs power leveling,” she added with poorly masked displeasure, “I’ m prepared to spend the winter with
my aunt.”
She phrased it masterfully, displaying a steadiness that was acting as if it were struggling
to wrap itself in politeness. It was decisive for Monsieur de Ronal. Still, observing country
procedures, he went on talking for a long time, reviewing all the arguments; his wife allowed
him to talk: there was still anger in his voice. In the end, two hours of pointless jabbering
exhausted the strength of a man who had been dealing with anger the whole night. He settled
the approach he would take to Monsieur Valenod, to Julien, and even to Elisa.
Once or twice, during this great scene,potbs doubloon, Madame de Ronal was close to some degree of
compassion, on account of the man’s very real misery: he had been close to her for twelve
years. But genuine passion is egotistic. Besides, from minute to minute she’d been waiting for
him to acknowledge last night’s anonymous letter, and there had been no such
acknowledgment. Madame de Ronal’s safety was not certain, lacking information about what
ideas might have been suggested to this man, on whom her fate depended. In the countryside,
of course, husbands are in charge of opinion. A moaning and groaning husband covers himself
with ridicule (though from day to day this becomes less of a risk, in France), but his wife,Potbs Gold, if he
refuses her money, lapses into the condition of a workman making fifteen cents a day, and
respectable people are not always willing to hire her.
A harem slave can surely love her sultan; he is all-powerful; she has no hope of stealing
his authority by a series of small subtleties. The household sultan can wreak terrible, bloody
vengeance, but soldierlike, gracious: one dagger thrust, and it’s all over. But in this nineteenth
century, husbands kill their wives with public scorn?athat is, by having all drawing rooms
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closed to them.
Madame de Ronal’s awareness of danger was vividly heightened as soon as she returned to
her room. She was shocked by how chaotic everything had become. The locks on every single
one of her pretty little boxes had been broken; several of the thin parquet floorboards had
5 Sometimes referred to as the “White Terror,” after the color of the royal family; the early years of the
Restoration inevitably brought the arrest and prosecution of revolutionaries and imperialists.
6 Under the Restoration, the upper house of the legislature was the Chambre des Pairs. Monsieur de Ronal
believes his efforts in 1816 merited a peerage.
been pried up. “He’s had absolutely no pity on me!” she said to herself. “Ruining this colored
wood, which he loved so much: when one of the children came in with wet shoes,rappelz gold, he’d turn
red with anger. And now it’s ruined forever!” Seeing this violence drove away, and quickly, the
last of her self-reproaches on account of her overly swift victory.
A little before dinnertime, Julien returned with the children. When they were drinking
coffee and eating cheese, and all the servants had left the room, Madame de Ronal spoke to
Julien,rappelz rupees, exceedingly dryly:
“You expressed your desire to me, that you might be permitted to spend two weeks in
Verrires. Monsieur de Ronal is quite agreeable to granting you a leave. You can go whenever
you think best. But to keep the children from wasting their time,rappelz rupees, their papers will be sent to
you, every day, for your corrections.”
“To be sure,” added Monsieur de Ronal, his manner distinctly sour, “I won’t give you more
than a week.”
Julien noted, on his face, the anxiety of a deeply tormented soul.
“He still hasn’t made up his mind,” he said to his beloved, in the drawing room, when
they were alone for a moment.
Madame de Ronal swiftly told him everything she’d done since that morning.
“I’ll give you the details, later tonight,” she added, laughing.
“Female perversity!” thought Julien. “What pleasure, what instinct,rappelz gold, leads them to deceive
us?”
“It seems to me you’re both enlightened and blinded by love,” he said to her rather stiffly.
“What you’ve done today is admirable, but is there any wisdom in seeking to be together
tonight? This house is packed with enemies: just think of the passionate hate Elisa feels for
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me.”
“That hate much resembles the passionate indifference you apparently feel for me.”
“Even if I were indifferent, I have the responsibility of saving you from the peril into
which I’ve plunged you. If, by some chance, Monsieur de Ronal decides to speak to Elisa,rappelz gold, she
can tell him everything in very few words. Suppose he hides himself near my room, well
armed….”
“Ah,rappelz gold! Not even courageous?” said Madame de Ronal,rappelz rupees, with the arrogance of a noble family’s
daughter.
“I won’t ever stoop to discussing my courage,” said Julien coldly. “That’s beneath me. Let
the world decide, when I’ve done what I will do. But,” he added, taking her hand, “you don’t
understand how deeply attached to you I am, and how happy it makes me to have this chance
of taking leave of you, before our cruel separation.”
Chapter Twenty-Two: Patterns of behavior, In 1830
Words have been given to men in order to hide their thoughts.
?aR. P. Malagrida1
He’d barely reached Verrires when Julien reproached himself for being unfair to Madame
de Ronal. “I’d have been as spiteful as a little girl,Rappelz Rupees, had weakness made her avoid that scene
with her husband! She behaved herself like a diplomat, and here I am, sympathizing with the
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