finished_summaries/shmoop/The Red and the Black/section_62_part_0.txt
The Red and the Black.part 2.chapter 33
part 2, chapter 33
{"name": "Part 2, Chapter 33", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20200920104425/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/red-and-the-black/summary/part-2-chapter-33", "summary": "The Marquis de La Mole showers Julien with every insult he can think of. Julien tries to smooth things out, but it isn't easy. Julien goes to his old mentor, Father Pirard, the next day and tells him what has happened. Pirard isn't surprised, though he's disappointed in Julien. Back in Paris, Mathilde reads a letter that Julien has given to the marquis. It suggests that Julien might be going off to commit suicide. When Julien comes back safe and sound, Mathilde tells him to ride off to a nearby village called Villequier and wait for her there. While Julien is gone, Mathilde convinces her father that the only way forward is for her to marry Julien. She won't consent to any sort of secret birth. She needs to be with him. The marquis reflects on all the big plans he used to have for Mathilde's future. But now they've all gone up in smoke.", "analysis": ""}
CHAPTER LXIII

THE HELL OF WEAKNESS


        A clumsy lapidary, in cutting this diamond, deprived
        it of some of its most brilliant facets. In the middle
        ages, nay, even under Richelieu, the Frenchman had
        _force of will_.--_Mirabeau_.


Julien found the marquis furious. For perhaps the first time in his
life this nobleman showed bad form. He loaded Julien with all the
insults that came to his lips. Our hero was astonished, and his
patience was tried, but his gratitude remained unshaken.

"The poor man now sees the annihilation, in a single minute, of all
the fine plans which he has long cherished in his heart. But I owe it
to him to answer. My silence tends to increase his anger." The part of
Tartuffe supplied the answer;

"I am not an angel.... I served you well; you paid me generously.... I
was grateful, but I am twenty-two.... Only you and that charming person
understood my thoughts in this household."

"Monster," exclaimed the marquis. "Charming! Charming, to be sure! The
day when you found her charming you ought to have fled."

"I tried to. It was then that I asked permission to leave for
Languedoc."

Tired of stampeding about and overcome by his grief, the marquis threw
himself into an arm-chair. Julien heard him whispering to himself, "No,
no, he is not a wicked man."

"No, I am not, towards you," exclaimed Julien, falling on his knees.
But he felt extremely ashamed of this manifestation, and very quickly
got up again.

The marquis was really transported. When he saw this movement, he
began again to load him with abominable insults, which were worthy of
the driver of a fiacre. The novelty of these oaths perhaps acted as a
distraction.

"What! is my daughter to go by the name of madame Sorel? What! is my
daughter not to be a duchess?" Each time that these two ideas presented
themselves in all their clearness M. de la Mole was a prey to torture,
and lost all power over the movements of his mind.

Julien was afraid of being beaten.

In his lucid intervals, when he was beginning to get accustomed to his
unhappiness, the marquis addressed to Julien reproaches which were
reasonable enough. "You should have fled, sir," he said to him. "Your
duty was to flee. You are the lowest of men."

Julien approached the table and wrote:

        "I have found my life unbearable for a long time; I am
        putting an end to it. I request monsieur the marquis to
        accept my apologies (together with the expression of my
        infinite gratitude) for any embarrassment that may be
        occasioned by my death in his hotel."

"Kindly run your eye over this paper, M. the marquis," said Julien.
"Kill me, or have me killed by your valet. It is one o'clock in the
morning. I will go and walk in the garden in the direction of the wall
at the bottom."

"Go to the devil," cried the marquis, as he went away.

"I understand," thought Julien. "He would not be sorry if I were to
spare his valet the trouble of killing me....

"Let him kill me, if he likes; it is a satisfaction which I offer
him.... But, by heaven, I love life. I owe it to my son."

This idea, which had not previously presented itself with so much
definiteness to his imagination, completely engrossed him during his
walk after the first few minutes which he had spent thinking about his
danger.

This novel interest turned him into a prudent man. "I need advice as to
how to behave towards this infuriated man.... He is devoid of reason;
he is capable of everything. Fouque is too far away; besides, he would
not understand the emotions of a heart like the marquis's."

"Count Altamira ... am I certain of eternal silence? My request
for advice must not be a fresh step which will raise still further
complications. Alas! I have no one left but the gloomy abbe Pirard. His
mind is crabbed by Jansenism.... A damned Jesuit would know the world,
and would be more in my line. M. Pirard is capable of beating me at the
very mention of my crime."

The genius of Tartuffe came to Julien's help. "Well, I will go and
confess to him." This was his final resolution after having walked
about in the garden for two good hours. He no longer thought about
being surprised by a gun shot. He was feeling sleepy.

Very early the next day, Julien was several leagues away from Paris
and knocked at the door of the severe Jansenist. He found to his great
astonishment that he was not unduly surprised at his confidence.

"I ought perhaps to reproach myself," said the abbe, who seemed more
anxious than irritated. "I thought I guessed that love. My affection
for you, my unhappy boy, prevented me from warning the father."

"What will he do?" said Julien keenly.

At that moment he loved the abbe, and would have found a scene between
them very painful.

"I see three alternatives," continued Julien.

"M. de la Mole can have me put to death," and he mentioned the suicide
letter which he had left with the Marquis; (2) "He can get Count
Norbert to challenge me to a duel, and shoot at me point blank."

"You would accept?" said the abbe furiously as he got up.

"You do not let me finish. I should certainly never fire upon my
benefactor's son. (3) He can send me away. If he says go to Edinburgh
or New York, I will obey him. They can then conceal mademoiselle de la
Mole's condition, but I will never allow them to suppress my son."

"Have no doubt about it, that will be the first thought of that
depraved man."

At Paris, Mathilde was in despair. She had seen her father about seven
o'clock. He had shown her Julien's letter. She feared that he might
have considered it noble to put an end to his life; "and without my
permission?" she said to herself with a pain due solely to her anger.

"If he dies I shall die," she said to her father. "It will be you
who will be the cause of his death.... Perhaps you will rejoice at
it but I swear by his shades that I shall at once go into mourning,
and shall publicly appear as _Madame the widow Sorel_, I shall send
out my invitations, you can count on it.... You will find me neither
pusillanimous nor cowardly."

Her love went to the point of madness. M. de la Mole was flabbergasted
in his turn.

He began to regard what had happened with a certain amount of logic.
Mathilde did not appear at breakfast. The marquis felt an immense
weight off his mind, and was particularly flattered when he noticed
that she had said nothing to her mother.

Julien was dismounting from his horse. Mathilde had him called and
threw herself into his arms almost beneath the very eyes of her
chambermaid. Julien was not very appreciative of this transport. He had
come away from his long consultation with the abbe Pirard in a very
diplomatic and calculating mood. The calculation of possibilities had
killed his imagination. Mathilde told him, with tears in her eyes, that
she had read his suicide letter.

"My father may change his mind; do me the favour of leaving for
Villequier this very minute. Mount your horse again, and leave the
hotel before they get up from table."

When Julien's coldness and astonishment showed no sign of abatement,
she burst into tears.

"Let me manage our affairs," she exclaimed ecstatically, as she clasped
him in her arms. "You know, dear, it is not of my own free will that
I separate from you. Write under cover to my maid. Address it in a
strange hand-writing, I will write volumes to you. Adieu, flee."

This last word wounded Julien, but he none the less obeyed. "It will
be fatal," he thought "if, in their most gracious moments these
aristocrats manage to shock me."

Mathilde firmly opposed all her father's prudent plans. She would
not open negotiations on any other basis except this. She was to be
Madame Sorel, and was either to live with her husband in poverty in
Switzerland, or with her father in Paris. She rejected absolutely the
suggestion of a secret accouchement. "In that case I should begin to
be confronted with a prospect of calumny and dishonour. I shall go
travelling with my husband two months after the marriage, and it will
be easy to pretend that my son was born at a proper time."

This firmness though at first received with violent fits of anger,
eventually made the marquis hesitate.

"Here," he said to his daughter in a moment of emotion, "is a gift of
ten thousand francs a year. Send it to your Julien, and let him quickly
make it impossible for me to retract it."

In order to obey Mathilde, whose imperious temper he well knew, Julien
had travelled forty useless leagues; he was superintending the accounts
of the farmers at Villequier. This act of benevolence on the part of
the marquis occasioned his return. He went and asked asylum of the abbe
Pirard, who had become Mathilde's most useful ally during his absence.
Every time that he was questioned by the marquis, he would prove to him
that any other course except public marriage would be a crime in the
eyes of God.

"And happily," added the abbe, "worldly wisdom is in this instance in
agreement with religion. Could one, in view of Mdlle. de la Mole's
passionate character, rely for a minute on her keeping any secret which
she did not herself wish to preserve? If one does not reconcile oneself
to the frankness of a public marriage, society will concern itself much
longer with this strange mesalliance__. Everything must be said all
at once without either the appearance or the reality of the slightest
mystery."

"It is true," said the marquis pensively.

Two or three friends of M. de la Mole were of the same opinion as the
abbe Pirard. The great obstacle in their view was Mathilde's decided
character. But in spite of all these fine arguments the marquis's soul
could not reconcile itself to giving up all hopes of a coronet for his
daughter.

He ransacked his memory and his imagination for all the variations of
knavery and duplicity which had been feasible in his youth. Yielding to
necessity and having fear of the law seemed absurd and humiliating for
a man in his position. He was paying dearly now for the luxury of those
enchanting dreams concerning the future of his cherished daughter in
which he had indulged for the last ten years.

"Who could have anticipated it?" he said to himself. "A girl of so
proud a character, of so lofty a disposition, who is even prouder than
I am of the name she bears? A girl whose hand has already been asked
for by all the cream of the nobility of France."

"We must give up all faith in prudence. This age is made to confound
everything. We are marching towards chaos."






Part 2, Chapter 33
The Marquis de La Mole showers Julien with every insult he can think of. Julien tries to smooth things out, but it isn't easy. Julien goes to his old mentor, Father Pirard, the next day and tells him what has happened. Pirard isn't surprised, though he's disappointed in Julien. Back in Paris, Mathilde reads a letter that Julien has given to the marquis. It suggests that Julien might be going off to commit suicide. When Julien comes back safe and sound, Mathilde tells him to ride off to a nearby village called Villequier and wait for her there. While Julien is gone, Mathilde convinces her father that the only way forward is for her to marry Julien. She won't consent to any sort of secret birth. She needs to be with him. The marquis reflects on all the big plans he used to have for Mathilde's future. But now they've all gone up in smoke.