finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_35_part_0.txt
The Red and the Black.part 2.chapter 6
part 2, chapter 6
{"name": "Part 2, Chapter 6", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-2-chapter-6", "summary": "One day at a cafe, Julien stares off into space while thinking about his boring life. He catches the eyes of another young man, whom he realizes is staring right back at him. The staring contest eventually turns into an argument, and the young man insults Julien so much that Julien demands a duel. The young man throws a card into Julien's face. The card has the man's name and address on it. Julien shows up at the guy's house the next day, bringing Count Norbert as his backup. When they meet the master of the house, they encounter a polite young man who is definitely not the dude Julien met in the cafe the day before. While leaving, Julien recognizes one of the man's servants as the guy from the cafe and lays a beat-down on him. Two servants try to help their friend, but Julien fires a gun at them and they run off. The master of the house decides that there is now good reason for a duel, since Julien has attacked one of his servants. The two of them drive out to a dueling ground and the guy shoots Julien in the arm. It's not a major wound, and the guy even drives Julien home in his carriage. The master is shocked to learn that Julien is only a servant. It's bad form for a nobleman to fight with someone of such lower class. He decides to keep the whole thing hush hush in order to avoid any damage to his reputation. The two of them start hanging out and going to the opera together. The master decides to make up a story about Julien being the son of one of the Marquis de La Moles' wealthy relatives in order to put them on a similar social footing. Word spread across town until the Marquis finds out. He's not mad, and decides to let the rumor stand. The condition is that Julien has to study all the rich folks at the opera and learn to carry himself like a rich person.", "analysis": ""}
CHAPTER XXXVI

PRONUNCIATION


        If fatuity is pardonable it is in one's first youth,
        for it is then the exaggeration of an amiable thing. It
        needs an air of love, gaiety, nonchalance. But fatuity
        coupled with self-importance; fatuity with a solemn and
        self-sufficient manner! This extravagance of stupidity
        was reserved for the XIXth century. Such are the persons
        who want to unchain the _hydra of revolutions_!--LE
        JOHANNISBURG, _Pamphlet_.

Considering that he was a new arrival who was too disdainful to put any
questions, Julien did not fall into unduly great mistakes. One day when
he was forced into a cafe in the Rue St. Honore by a sudden shower,
a big man in a beaver coat, surprised by his gloomy look, looked at
him in return just as mademoiselle Amanda's lover had done before at
Besancon.

Julien had reproached himself too often for having endured the other
insult to put up with this stare. He asked for an explanation. The
man in the tail-coat immediately addressed him in the lowest and most
insulting language. All the people in the cafe surrounded them. The
passers-by stopped before the door. Julien always carried some little
pistols as a matter of precaution. His hand was grasping them nervously
in his pocket. Nevertheless he behaved wisely and confined himself to
repeating to his man "Monsieur, your address, I despise you."

The persistency in which he kept repeating these six words eventually
impressed the crowd.

"By Jove, the other who's talking all to himself ought to give him
his address," they exclaimed. The man in the tail-coat hearing this
repeated several times, flung five or six cards in Julien's face.

Fortunately none of them hit him in the face; he had mentally resolved
not to use his pistols except in the event of his being hit. The man
went away, though not without turning round from time to time to shake
his fist and hurl insults at him.

Julien was bathed in sweat. "So," he said angrily to himself, "the
meanest of mankind has it in his power to affect me as much as this.
How am I to kill so humiliating a sensitiveness?"

Where was he to find a second? He did not have a single friend. He had
several acquaintances, but they all regularly left him after six weeks
of social intercourse. "I am unsociable," he thought, and "I am now
cruelly punished for it." Finally it occurred to him to rout out an old
lieutenant of the 96th, named Lievin, a poor devil with whom he often
used to fence. Julien was frank with him.

"I am quite willing to be your second," said Lievin, "but on one
condition. If you fail to wound your man you will fight with me
straight away."

"Agreed," said Julien quite delighted; and they went to find M. de
Beauvoisis at the address indicated on his card at the end of the
Faubourg Saint Germain.

It was seven o'clock in the morning. It was only when he was being
ushered in, that Julien thought that it might quite well be the young
relation of Madame de Renal, who had once been employed at the Rome
or Naples Embassy, and who had given the singer Geronimo a letter of
introduction.

Julien gave one of the cards which had been flung at him the previous
evening together with one of his own to a tall valet.

He and his second were kept waiting for a good three-quarters of
an hour. Eventually they were ushered in to a elegantly furnished
apartment. They found there a tall young man who was dressed like a
doll. His features presented the perfection and the lack of expression
of Greek beauty. His head, which was remarkably straight, had the
finest blonde hair. It was dressed with great care and not a single
hair was out of place.

"It was to have his hair done like this, that is why this damned
fop has kept us waiting," thought the lieutenant of the 96th. The
variegated dressing gown, the morning trousers, everything down to the
embroidered slippers was correct. He was marvellously well-groomed.
His blank and aristocratic physiognomy betokened rare and orthodox
ideas; the ideal of a Metternichian diplomatist. Napoleon as well did
not like to have in his entourage officers who thought.

Julien, to whom his lieutenant of the 96th had explained, that keeping
him waiting was an additional insult after having thrown his card
so rudely in his face, entered brusquely M. de Beauvoisis' room. He
intended to be insolent, but at the same time to exhibit good form.

Julien was so astonished by the niceness of M. de Beauvoisis'
manners and by the combination of formality, self-importance, and
self-satisfaction in his demeanour, by the admirable elegance of
everything that surrounded him, that he abandoned immediately all
idea of being insolent. It was not his man of the day before. His
astonishment was so great at meeting so distinguished a person, instead
of the rude creature whom he was looking for, that he could not find a
single word to say. He presented one of the cards which had been thrown
at him.

"That's my name," said the young diplomat, not at all impressed by
Julien's black suit at seven o'clock in the morning, "but I do not
understand the honour."

His manner of pronouncing these last words revived a little of Julien's
bad temper.

"I have come to fight you, monsieur," and he explained in a few words
the whole matter.

M. Charles de Beauvoisis, after mature reflection, was fairly satisfied
with the cut of Julien's black suit.

"It comes from Staub, that's clear," he said to himself, as he heard
him speak. "That waistcoat is in good taste. Those boots are all right,
but on the other hand just think of wearing a black suit in the early
morning! It must be to have a better chance of not being hit," said the
chevalier de Beauvoisis to himself.

After he had given himself this explanation he became again perfectly
polite to Julien, and almost treated him as an equal. The conversation
was fairly lengthy, for the matter was a delicate one, but eventually
Julien could not refuse to acknowledge the actual facts. The perfectly
mannered young man before him did not bear any resemblance to the
vulgar fellow who had insulted him the previous day.

Julien felt an invincible repugnance towards him. He noted the
self-sufficiency of the chevalier de Beauvoisis, for that was the name
by which he had referred to himself, shocked as he was when Julien
called him simply "Monsieur."

He admired his gravity which, though tinged with a certain modest
fatuity, he never abandoned for a single moment. He was astonished at
his singular manner of moving his tongue as he pronounced his words,
but after all, this did not present the slightest excuse for picking a
quarrel.

The young diplomatist very graciously offered to fight, but the
ex-lieutenant of the 96th, who had been sitting down for an hour with
his legs wide apart, his hands on his thigh, and his elbows stuck out,
decided that his friend, monsieur de Sorel, was not the kind to go and
pick a quarrel with a man because someone else had stolen that man's
visiting cards.

Julien went out in a very bad temper. The chevalier de Beauvoisis'
carriage was waiting for him in the courtyard before the steps. By
chance Julien raised his eyes and recognised in the coachman his man of
the day before.

Seeing him, catching hold of him by his big jacket, tumbling him down
from his seat, and horse-whipping him thoroughly took scarcely a moment.

Two lackeys tried to defend their comrade. Julien received some blows
from their fists. At the same moment, he cocked one of his little
pistols and fired on them. They took to flight. All this took about a
minute.

The chevalier de Beauvoisis descended the staircase with the most
pleasing gravity, repeating with his lordly pronunciation, "What is
this, what is this." He was manifestly very curious, but his diplomatic
importance would not allow him to evince any greater interest.

When he knew what it was all about, a certain haughtiness tried to
assert itself in that expression of slightly playful nonchalance which
should never leave a diplomatist's face.

The lieutenant of the 96th began to realise that M. de Beauvoisis was
anxious to fight. He was also diplomatic enough to wish to reserve for
his friend the advantage of taking the initiative.

"This time," he exclaimed, "there is ground for duel."

"I think there's enough," answered the diplomat.

"Turn that rascal out," he said to his lackeys. "Let someone else get
up."

The door of the carriage was open. The chevalier insisted on doing
the honours to Julien and his friend. They sent for a friend of M. de
Beauvoisis, who chose them a quiet place. The conversation on their
way went as a matter of fact very well indeed. The only extraordinary
feature was the diplomatist in a dressing-gown.

"These gentlemen, although very noble, are by no means as boring,"
thought Julien, "as the people who come and dine at M. de la Mole's,
and I can see why," he added a moment afterwards. "They allow
themselves to be indecent." They talked about the dancers that the
public had distinguished with its favour at the ballet presented
the night before. The two gentlemen alluded to some spicy anecdotes
of which Julien and his second, the lieutenant of the 96th, were
absolutely ignorant.

Julien was not stupid enough to pretend to know them. He confessed his
ignorance with a good grace. This frankness pleased the chevalier's
friend. He told him these stories with the greatest detail and
extremely well.

One thing astonished Julien inordinately. The carriage was pulled up
for a moment by an altar which was being built in the middle of the
street for the procession of Corpus Christi Day. The two gentlemen
indulged in the luxury of several jests. According to them, the cure
was the son of an archbishop. Such a joke would never have been heard
in the house of M. de la Mole, who was trying to be made a duke. The
duel was over in a minute. Julien got a ball in his arm. They bandaged
it with handkerchiefs which they wetted with brandy, and the chevalier
de Beauvoisis requested Julien with great politeness to allow him to
take him home in the same carriage that had brought him. When Julien
gave the name of M. de la Mole's hotel, the young diplomat and his
friend exchanged looks. Julien's fiacre was here, but they found these
gentlemen's conversation more entertaining than that of the good
lieutenant of the 96th.

"By Jove, so a duel is only that," thought Julien. "What luck I found
that coachman again. How unhappy I should have been if I had had to put
up with that insult as well." The amusing conversation had scarcely
been interrupted. Julien realised that the affectation of diplomatists
is good for something.

"So ennui," he said himself, "is not a necessary incident of
conversation among well-born people. These gentlemen make fun of the
Corpus Christi procession and dare to tell extremely obscene anecdotes,
and what is more, with picturesque details. The only thing they really
lack is the ability to discuss politics logically, and that lack is
more than compensated by their graceful tone, and the perfect aptness
of their expressions." Julien experienced a lively inclination for
them. "How happy I should be to see them often."

They had scarcely taken leave of each other before the chevalier de
Beauvoisis had enquiries made. They were not brilliant.

He was very curious to know his man. Could he decently pay a call on
him? The little information he had succeeded in obtaining from him was
not of an encouraging character.

"Oh, this is awful," he said to his second. "I can't possibly own up
to having fought a duel with a mere secretary of M. de la Mole, simply
because my coachman stole my visiting cards."

"There is no doubt that all this may make you look ridiculous."

That very evening the chevalier de Beauvoisis and his friend said
everywhere that this M. Sorel who was, moreover, quite a charming young
man, was a natural son of an intimate friend of the marquis de la Mole.
This statement was readily accepted. Once it was established, the young
diplomatist and friend deigned to call several times on Julien during
the fortnight. Julien owned to them that he had only been to the Opera
once in his life. "That is awful," said one, "that is the only place
one does go to. Your first visit must be when they are playing the
'_Comte Ory_.'"

The chevalier de Beauvoisis introduced him at the opera to the famous
singer Geronimo, who was then enjoying an immense success.

Julien almost paid court to the chevalier. His mixture of self-respect,
mysterious self-importance, and fatuous youthfulness fascinated him.
The chevalier, for example, would stammer a little, simply because he
had the honour of seeing frequently a very noble lord who had this
defect. Julien had never before found combined in one and the same
person the drollery which amuses, and those perfect manners which
should be the object of a poor provincial's imitation.

He was seen at the opera with the chevalier de Beauvoisis. This
association got him talked about.

"Well," said M. de la Mole to him one day, "so here you are, the
natural son of a rich gentleman of Franche-Comte, an intimate friend of
mine."

The marquis cut Julien short as he started to protest that he had not
in any way contributed to obtaining any credence for this rumour.

"M. de Beauvoisis did not fancy having fought a duel with the son of a
carpenter."

"I know it, I know it," said M. de la Mole. "It is my business now to
give some consistency to this story which rather suits me. But I have
one favour to ask of you, which will only cost you a bare half-hour of
your time. Go and watch every opera day at half-past eleven all the
people in society coming out in the vestibule. I still see you have
certain provincial mannerisms. You must rid yourself of them. Besides
it would do no harm to know, at any rate by sight, some of the great
personages to whom I may one day send you on a commission. Call in at
the box office to get identified. Admission has been secured for you."






Part 2, Chapter 6
One day at a cafe, Julien stares off into space while thinking about his boring life. He catches the eyes of another young man, whom he realizes is staring right back at him. The staring contest eventually turns into an argument, and the young man insults Julien so much that Julien demands a duel. The young man throws a card into Julien's face. The card has the man's name and address on it. Julien shows up at the guy's house the next day, bringing Count Norbert as his backup. When they meet the master of the house, they encounter a polite young man who is definitely not the dude Julien met in the cafe the day before. While leaving, Julien recognizes one of the man's servants as the guy from the cafe and lays a beat-down on him. Two servants try to help their friend, but Julien fires a gun at them and they run off. The master of the house decides that there is now good reason for a duel, since Julien has attacked one of his servants. The two of them drive out to a dueling ground and the guy shoots Julien in the arm. It's not a major wound, and the guy even drives Julien home in his carriage. The master is shocked to learn that Julien is only a servant. It's bad form for a nobleman to fight with someone of such lower class. He decides to keep the whole thing hush hush in order to avoid any damage to his reputation. The two of them start hanging out and going to the opera together. The master decides to make up a story about Julien being the son of one of the Marquis de La Moles' wealthy relatives in order to put them on a similar social footing. Word spread across town until the Marquis finds out. He's not mad, and decides to let the rumor stand. The condition is that Julien has to study all the rich folks at the opera and learn to carry himself like a rich person.