CHAPTER XII

A JOURNEY

        Elegant people are to be found in Paris. People of
        character may exist in the provinces.--Sieyes

At five o'clock the following day, before Madame de Renal was visible,
Julien obtained a three days' holiday from her husband. Contrary to his
expectation Julien found himself desirous of seeing her again. He kept
thinking of that pretty hand of hers. He went down into the garden, but
Madame de Renal kept him waiting for a long time. But if Julien had
loved her, he would have seen her forehead glued to the pane behind the
half-closed blinds on the first floor. She was looking at him. Finally,
in spite of her resolutions, she decided to go into the garden. Her
habitual pallor had been succeeded by more lively hues. This woman,
simple as she was, was manifestly agitated; a sentiment of constraint,
and even of anger, altered that expression of profound serenity which
seemed, as it were, to be above all the vulgar interests of life and
gave so much charm to that divine face.

Julien approached her with eagerness, admiring those beautiful arms
which were just visible through a hastily donned shawl. The freshness
of the morning air seemed to accentuate still more the brilliance of
her complexion which the agitation of the past night rendered all the
more susceptible to all impressions. This demure and pathetic beauty,
which was, at the same time, full of thoughts which are never found in
the inferior classes, seemed to reveal to Julien a faculty in his own
soul which he had never before realised. Engrossed in his admiration of
the charms on which his his greedy gaze was riveted, Julien took for
granted the friendly welcome which he was expecting to receive. He was
all the more astonished at the icy coldness which she endeavoured to
manifest to him, and through which he thought he could even distinguish
the intention of putting him in his place.

The smile of pleasure died away from his lips as he remembered his
rank in society, especially from the point of view of a rich and noble
heiress. In a single moment his face exhibited nothing but haughtiness
and anger against himself. He felt violently disgusted that he could
have put off his departure for more than an hour, simply to receive so
humiliating a welcome.

"It is only a fool," he said to himself, "who is angry with others; a
stone falls because it is heavy. Am I going to be a child all my life?
How on earth is it that I manage to contract the charming habit of
showing my real self to those people simply in return for their money?
If I want to win their respect and that of my own self, I must shew
them that it is simply a business transaction between my poverty and
their wealth, but that my heart is a thousand leagues away from their
insolence, and is situated in too high a sphere to be affected by their
petty marks of favour or disdain."

While these feelings were crowding the soul of the young tutor, his
mobile features assumed an expression of ferocity and injured pride.
Madame de Renal was extremely troubled. The virtuous coldness that she
had meant to put into her welcome was succeeded by an expression of
interest--an interest animated by all the surprise brought about by
the sudden change which she had just seen. The empty morning platitudes
about their health and the fineness of the day suddenly dried up.
Julien's judgment was disturbed by no passion, and he soon found a
means of manifesting to Madame de Renal how light was the friendly
relationship that he considered existed between them. He said nothing
to her about the little journey that he was going to make; saluted her,
and went away.

As she watched him go, she was overwhelmed by the sombre haughtiness
which she read in that look which had been so gracious the previous
evening. Her eldest son ran up from the bottom of the garden, and said
as he kissed her,

"We have a holiday, M. Julien is going on a journey."

At these words, Madame de Renal felt seized by a deadly coldness. She
was unhappy by reason of her virtue, and even more unhappy by reason of
her weakness.

This new event engrossed her imagination, and she was transported far
beyond the good resolutions which she owed to the awful night she had
just passed. It was not now a question of resisting that charming
lover, but of losing him for ever.

It was necessary to appear at breakfast. To complete her anguish, M. de
Renal and Madame Derville talked of nothing but Julien's departure. The
mayor of Verrieres had noticed something unusual in the firm tone in
which he had asked for a holiday.

"That little peasant has no doubt got somebody else's offer up his
sleeve, but that somebody else, even though it's M. Valenod, is bound
to be a little discouraged by the sum of six hundred francs, which the
annual salary now tots up to. He must have asked yesterday at Verrieres
for a period of three days to think it over, and our little gentleman
runs off to the mountains this morning so as not to be obliged to give
me an answer. Think of having to reckon with a wretched workman who
puts on airs, but that's what we've come to."

"If my husband, who does not know how deeply he has wounded Julien,
thinks that he will leave us, what can I think myself?" said Madame de
Renal to herself. "Yes, that is all decided." In order to be able at
any rate to be free to cry, and to avoid answering Madame Derville's
questions, she pleaded an awful headache, and went to bed.

"That's what women are," repeated M. de Renal, "there is always
something out of order in those complicated machines," and he went off
jeering.

While Madame de Renal was a prey to all the poignancy of the terrible
passion in which chance had involved her, Julien went merrily on his
way, surrounded by the most beautiful views that mountain scenery
can offer. He had to cross the great chain north of Vergy. The path
which he followed rose gradually among the big beech woods, and ran
into infinite spirals on the slope of the high mountain which forms
the northern boundary of the Doubs valley. Soon the traveller's view,
as he passed over the lower slopes bounding the course of the Doubs
towards the south, extends as far as the fertile plains of Burgundy and
Beaujolais. However insensible was the soul of this ambitious youth to
this kind of beauty, he could not help stopping from time to time to
look at a spectacle at once so vast and so impressive.

Finally, he reached the summit of the great mountain, near which
he had to pass in order to arrive by this cross-country route at
the solitary valley where lived his friend Fouque, the young wood
merchant. Julien was in no hurry to see him; either him, or any other
human being. Hidden like a bird of prey amid the bare rocks which
crowned the great mountain, he could see a long way off anyone coming
near him. He discovered a little grotto in the middle of the almost
vertical slope of one of the rocks. He found a way to it, and was soon
ensconced in this retreat. "Here," he said, "with eyes brilliant with
joy, men cannot hurt me." It occurred to him to indulge in the pleasure
of writing down those thoughts of his which were so dangerous to him
everywhere else. A square stone served him for a desk; his pen flew. He
saw nothing of what was around him. He noticed at last that the sun was
setting behind the distant mountains of Beaujolais.

"Why shouldn't I pass the night here?" he said to himself. "I have
bread, and I am free." He felt a spiritual exultation at the sound of
that great word. The necessity of playing the hypocrite resulted in his
not being free, even at Fouque's. Leaning his head on his two hands,
Julien stayed in the grotto, more happy than he had ever been in his
life, thrilled by his dreams, and by the bliss of his freedom. Without
realising it, he saw all the rays of the twilight become successively
extinguished. Surrounded by this immense obscurity, his soul wandered
into the contemplation of what he imagined that he would one day meet
in Paris. First it was a woman, much more beautiful and possessed of a
much more refined temperament than anything he could have found in the
provinces. He loved with passion, and was loved. If he separated from
her for some instants, it was only to cover himself with glory, and to
deserve to be loved still more.

A young man brought up in the environment of the sad truths of Paris
society, would, on reaching this point in his romance, even if we
assume him possessed of Julien's imagination, have been brought back
to himself by the cold irony of the situation. Great deeds would have
disappeared from out his ken together with hope of achieving them and
have been succeeded by the platitude. "If one leave one's mistress
one runs alas! the risk of being deceived two or three times a day."
But the young peasant saw nothing but the lack of opportunity between
himself and the most heroic feats.

But a deep night had succeeded the day, and there were still two
leagues to walk before he could descend to the cabin in which Fouque
lived. Before leaving the little cave, Julien made a light and
carefully burnt all that he had written. He quite astonished his friend
when he knocked at his door at one o'clock in the morning. He found
Fouque engaged in making up his accounts. He was a young man of high
stature, rather badly made, with big, hard features, a never-ending
nose, and a large fund of good nature concealed beneath this repulsive
appearance.

"Have you quarelled with M. de Renal then that you turn up unexpectedly
like this?" Julien told him, but in a suitable way, the events of the
previous day.

"Stay with me," said Fouque to him. "I see that you know M. de Renal,
M. Valenod, the sub-prefect Maugron, the cure Chelan. You have
understood the subtleties of the character of those people. So there
you are then, quite qualified to attend auctions. You know arithmetic
better than I do; you will keep my accounts; I make a lot in my
business. The impossibility of doing everything myself, and the fear
of taking a rascal for my partner prevents me daily from undertaking
excellent business. It's scarcely a month since I put Michaud de
Saint-Amand, whom I haven't seen for six years, and whom I ran across
at the sale at Pontarlier in the way of making six thousand francs. Why
shouldn't it have been you who made those six thousand francs, or at
any rate three thousand. For if I had had you with me that day, I would
have raised the bidding for that lot of timber and everybody else would
soon have run away. Be my partner."

This offer upset Julien. It spoilt the train of his mad dreams. Fouque
showed his accounts to Julien during the whole of the supper--which the
two friends prepared themselves like the Homeric heroes (for Fouque
lived alone) and proved to him all the advantages offered by his timber
business. Fouque had the highest opinion of the gifts and character of
Julien.

When, finally, the latter was alone in his little room of pinewood, he
said to himself: "It is true I can make some thousands of francs here
and then take up with advantage the profession of a soldier, or of a
priest, according to the fashion then prevalent in France. The little
hoard that I shall have amassed will remove all petty difficulties. In
the solitude of this mountain I shall have dissipated to some extent my
awful ignorance of so many of the things which make up the life of all
those men of fashion. But Fouque has given up all thoughts of marriage,
and at the same time keeps telling me that solitude makes him unhappy.
It is clear that if he takes a partner who has no capital to put into
his business, he does so in the hopes of getting a companion who will
never leave him."

"Shall I deceive my friend," exclaimed Julien petulantly. This being
who found hypocrisy and complete callousness his ordinary means of
self-preservation could not, on this occasion, endure the idea of the
slightest lack of delicate feeling towards a man whom he loved.

But suddenly Julien was happy. He had a reason for a refusal. What!
Shall I be coward enough to waste seven or eight years. I shall get to
twenty-eight in that way! But at that age Bonaparte had achieved his
greatest feats. When I shall have made in obscurity a little money by
frequenting timber sales, and earning the good graces of some rascally
under-strappers who will guarantee that I shall still have the sacred
fire with which one makes a name for oneself?

The following morning, Julien with considerable sangfroid, said in
answer to the good Fouque, who regarded the matter of the partnership
as settled, that his vocation for the holy ministry of the altars would
not permit him to accept it. Fouque did not return to the subject.

"But just think," he repeated to him, "I'll make you my partner, or if
you prefer it, I'll give you four thousand francs a year, and you want
to return to that M. de Renal of yours, who despises you like the mud
on his shoes. When you have got two hundred louis in front of you, what
is to prevent you from entering the seminary? I'll go further: I will
undertake to procure for you the best living in the district, for,"
added Fouque, lowering his voice, I supply firewood to M. le ----, M.
le ----, M. ----. I provide them with first quality oak, but they only
pay me for plain wood, but never was money better invested.

Nothing could conquer Julien's vocation. Fouque finished by thinking
him a little mad. The third day, in the early morning, Julien left his
friend, and passed the day amongst the rocks of the great mountain. He
found his little cave again, but he had no longer peace of mind. His
friend's offers had robbed him of it. He found himself, not between
vice and virtue, like Hercules, but between mediocrity coupled with
an assured prosperity, and all the heroic dreams of his youth. "So I
have not got real determination after all," he said to himself, and it
was his doubt on this score which pained him the most. "I am not of
the stuff of which great men are made, because I fear that eight years
spent in earning a livelihood will deprive me of that sublime energy
which inspires the accomplishment of extraordinary feats."

CHAPTER XIII

THE OPEN WORK STOCKINGS

        A novel: a mirror which one takes out on one's walk
        along the high road.--_Saint-Real_.

When Julien perceived the picturesque ruins of the old church at Vergy,
he noticed that he had not given a single thought to Madame de Renal
since the day before yesterday. The other day, when I took my leave,
that woman made me realise the infinite distance which separated us;
she treated me like a labourer's son. No doubt she wished to signify
her repentance for having allowed me to hold her hand the evening
before.

... It is, however very pretty, is that hand. What a charm, what a
nobility is there in that woman's expression!

The possibility of making a fortune with Fouque gave a certain facility
to Julien's logic. It was not spoilt quite so frequently by the
irritation and the keen consciousness of his poverty and low estate in
the eyes of the world. Placed as it were on a high promontory, he was
able to exercise his judgment, and had a commanding view, so to speak,
of both extreme poverty and that competence which he still called
wealth. He was far from judging his position really philosophically,
but he had enough penetration to feel different after this little
journey into the mountain.

He was struck with the extreme uneasiness with which Madame de Renal
listened to the brief account which she had asked for of his journey.
Fouque had had plans of marriage, and unhappy love affairs, and long
confidences on this subject had formed the staple of the two friends'
conversation. Having found happiness too soon, Fouque had realised
that he was not the only one who was loved. All these accounts had
astonished Julien. He had learnt many new things. His solitary life of
imagination and suspicion had kept him remote from anything which could
enlighten him.

During his absence, life had been nothing for Madame de Renal but a
series of tortures, which, though different, were all unbearable. She
was really ill.

"Now mind," said Madame Derville to her when she saw Julien arrive,
"you don't go into the garden this evening in your weak state; the damp
air will make your complaint twice as bad."

Madame Derville was surprised to see that her friend, who was always
scolded by M. de Renal by reason of the excessive simplicity of her
dress, had just got some open-work stockings and some charming little
shoes which had come from Paris. For three days Madame de Renal's only
distraction had been to cut out a summer dress of a pretty little
material which was very fashionable, and get it made with express speed
by Elisa. This dress could scarcely have been finished a few moments
before Julien's arrival, but Madame de Renal put it on immediately. Her
friend had no longer any doubt. "She loves," unhappy woman, said Madame
Derville to herself. She understood all the strange symptoms of the
malady.

She saw her speak to Julien. The most violent blush was succeeded by
pallor. Anxiety was depicted in her eyes, which were riveted on those
of the young tutor. Madame de Renal expected every minute that he would
give an explanation of his conduct, and announce that he was either
going to leave the house or stay there. Julien carefully avoided that
subject, and did not even think of it. After terrible struggles, Madame
de Renal eventually dared to say to him in a trembling voice that
mirrored all her passion:

"Are you going to leave your pupils to take another place?"

Julien was struck by Madame de Renal's hesitating voice and look.
"That woman loves me," he said to himself! "But after this temporary
moment of weakness, for which her pride is no doubt reproaching her,
and as soon as she has ceased fearing that I shall leave, she will be
as haughty as ever." This view of their mutual position passed through
Julien's mind as rapidly as a flash of lightning. He answered with some
hesitation,

"I shall be extremely distressed to leave children who are so nice
and so well-born, but perhaps it will be necessary. One has duties to
oneself as well."

As he pronounced the expression, "well-born" (it was one of those
aristocratic phrases which Julien had recently learnt), he became
animated by a profound feeling of antipathy.

"I am not well-born," he said to himself, "in that woman's eyes."

As Madame de Renal listened to him, she admired his genius and his
beauty, and the hinted possibility of his departure pierced her
heart. All her friends at Verrieres who had come to dine at Vergy
during Julien's absence had complimented her almost jealously on the
astonishing man whom her husband had had the good fortune to unearth.
It was not that they understood anything about the progress of
children. The feat of knowing his Bible by heart, and what is more, of
knowing it in Latin, had struck the inhabitants of Verrieres with an
admiration which will last perhaps a century.

Julien, who never spoke to anyone, was ignorant of all this. If Madame
de Renal had possessed the slightest presence of mind, she would have
complimented him on the reputation which he had won, and Julien's
pride, once satisfied, he would have been sweet and amiable towards
her, especially as he thought her new dress charming. Madame de Renal
was also pleased with her pretty dress, and with what Julien had
said to her about it, and wanted to walk round the garden. But she
soon confessed that she was incapable of walking. She had taken the
traveller's arm, and the contact of that arm, far from increasing her
strength, deprived her of it completely.

It was night. They had scarcely sat down before Julien, availing
himself of his old privilege, dared to bring his lips near his pretty
neighbour's arm, and to take her hand. He kept thinking of the boldness
which Fouque had exhibited with his mistresses and not of Madame de
Renal; the word "well-born" was still heavy on his heart. He felt his
hand pressed, but experienced no pleasure. So far from his being proud,
or even grateful for the sentiment that Madame de Renal was betraying
that evening by only too evident signs, he was almost insensible to
her beauty, her elegance, and her freshness. Purity of soul, and the
absence of all hateful emotion, doubtless prolong the duration of
youth. It is the face which ages first with the majority of women.

Julien sulked all the evening. Up to the present he had only been angry
with the social order, but from that time that Fouque had offered him
an ignoble means of obtaining a competency, he was irritated with
himself. Julien was so engrossed in his thoughts, that, although from
time to time he said a few words to the ladies, he eventually let go
Madame de Renal's hand without noticing it. This action overwhelmed the
soul of the poor woman. She saw in it her whole fate.

If she had been certain of Julien's affection, her virtue would
possibly have found strength to resist him. But trembling lest she
should lose him for ever, she was distracted by her passion to
the point of taking again Julien's hand, which he had left in his
absent-mindedness leaning on the back of the chair. This action woke up
this ambitious youth; he would have liked to have had for witnesses all
those proud nobles who had regarded him at meals, when he was at the
bottom of the table with the children, with so condescending a smile.
"That woman cannot despise me; in that case," he said to himself. "I
ought to shew my appreciation of her beauty. I owe it to myself to be
her lover." That idea would not have occurred to him before the naive
confidences which his friend had made.

The sudden resolution which he had just made formed an agreeable
distraction. He kept saying to himself, "I must have one of those two
women;" he realised that he would have very much preferred to have
paid court to Madame Derville. It was not that she was more agreeable,
but that she had always seen him as the tutor distinguished by his
knowledge, and not as the journeyman carpenter with his cloth jacket
folded under his arm as he had first appeared to Madame de Renal.

It was precisely as a young workman, blushing up to the whites of his
eyes, standing by the door of the house and not daring to ring, that he
made the most alluring appeal to Madame de Renal's imagination.

As he went on reviewing his position, Julien saw that the conquest of
Madame Derville, who had probably noticed the taste which Madame de
Renal was manifesting for him, was out of the question. He was thus
brought back to the latter lady. "What do I know of the character of
that woman?" said Julien to himself. "Only this: before my journey, I
used to take her hand, and she used to take it away. To-day, I take my
hand away, and she seizes and presses it. A fine opportunity to pay her
back all the contempt she had had for me. God knows how many lovers she
has had, probably she is only deciding in my favour by reason of the
easiness of assignations."

Such, alas, is the misfortune of an excessive civilisation. The soul
of a young man of twenty, possessed of any education, is a thousand
leagues away from that _abandon_ without which love is frequently but
the most tedious of duties.

"I owe it all the more to myself," went on the petty vanity of Julien,
"to succeed with that woman, by reason of the fact that if I ever make
a fortune, and I am reproached by anyone with my menial position as a
tutor, I shall then be able to give out that it was love which got me
the post."

Julien again took his hand away from Madame de Renal, and then took her
hand again and pressed it. As they went back to the drawing-room about
midnight, Madame de Renal said to him in a whisper.

"You are leaving us, you are going?"

Julien answered with a sigh.

"I absolutely must leave, for I love you passionately. It is wrong
... how wrong indeed for a young priest?" Madame de Renal leant upon
his arm, and with so much abandon that her cheek felt the warmth of
Julien's.

The nights of these two persons were quite different. Madame de
Renal was exalted by the ecstacies of the highest moral pleasure. A
coquettish young girl, who loves early in life, gets habituated to
the trouble of love, and when she reaches the age of real passion,
finds the charm of novelty lacking. As Madame de Renal had never read
any novels, all the refinements of her happiness were new to her. No
mournful truth came to chill her, not even the spectre of the future.
She imagined herself as happy in ten years' time as she was at the
present moment. Even the idea of virtue and of her sworn fidelity to M.
de Renal, which had agitated her some days past, now presented itself
in vain, and was sent about its business like an importunate visitor.
"I will never grant anything to Julien," said Madame de Renal; "we will
live in the future like we have been living for the last month. He
shall be a friend."

CHAPTER XIV

THE ENGLISH SCISSORS

        A young girl of sixteen had a pink complexion, and yet
        used red rouge.--_Polidori_.

Fouque's offer had, as a matter of fact, taken away all Julien's
happiness; he could not make up his mind to any definite course. "Alas!
perhaps I am lacking in character. I should have been a bad soldier of
Napoleon. At least," he added, "my little intrigue with the mistress of
the house will distract me a little."

Happily for him, even in this little subordinate incident, his inner
emotions quite failed to correspond with his flippant words. He was
frightened of Madame de Renal because of her pretty dress. In his
eyes, that dress was a vanguard of Paris. His pride refused to leave
anything to chance and the inspiration of the moment. He made himself
a very minute plan of campaign, moulded on the confidences of Fouque,
and a little that he had read about love in the Bible. As he was very
nervous, though he did not admit it to himself, he wrote down this plan.

Madame de Renal was alone with him for a moment in the drawing-room on
the following morning.

"Have you no other name except Julien," she said.

Our hero was at a loss to answer so nattering a question. This
circumstance had not been anticipated in his plan. If he had not been
stupid enough to have made a plan, Julien's quick wit would have served
him well, and the surprise would only have intensified the quickness of
his perception.

He was clumsy, and exaggerated his clumsiness, Madame de Renal quickly
forgave him. She attributed it to a charming frankness. And an air of
frankness was the very thing which in her view was just lacking in this
man who was acknowledged to have so much genius.

"That little tutor of yours inspires me with a great deal of
suspicion," said Madame Derville to her sometimes. "I think he looks as
if he were always thinking, and he never acts without calculation. He
is a sly fox."

Julien remained profoundly humiliated by the misfortune of not having
known what answer to make to Madame de Renal.

"A man like I am ought to make up for this check!" and seizing the
moment when they were passing from one room to another, he thought it
was his duty to give Madame de Renal a kiss.

Nothing could have been less tactful, nothing less agreeable, and
nothing more imprudent both for him and for her. They were within
an inch of being noticed. Madame de Renal thought him mad. She was
frightened, and above all, shocked. This stupidity reminded her of M.
Valenod.

"What would happen to me," she said to herself, "if I were alone with
him?" All her virtue returned, because her love was waning.

She so arranged it that one of her children always remained with her.
Julien found the day very tedious, and passed it entirely in clumsily
putting into operation his plan of seduction. He did not look at Madame
de Renal on a single occasion without that look having a reason, but
nevertheless he was not sufficiently stupid to fail to see that he was
not succeeding at all in being amiable, and was succeeding even less in
being fascinating.

Madame de Renal did not recover from her astonishment at finding him
so awkward and at the same time so bold. "It is the timidity of love
in men of intellect," she said to herself with an inexpressible joy.
"Could it be possible that he had never been loved by my rival?"

After breakfast Madame de Renal went back to the drawing-room to
receive the visit of M. Charcot de Maugiron, the sub-prefect of Bray.
She was working at a little frame of fancy-work some distance from the
ground. Madame Derville was at her side; that was how she was placed
when our hero thought it suitable to advance his boot in the full
light and press the pretty foot of Madame de Renal, whose open-work
stockings, and pretty Paris shoe were evidently attracting the looks of
the gallant sub-prefect.

Madame de Renal was very much afraid, and let fall her scissors, her
ball of wool and her needles, so that Julien's movement could be passed
for a clumsy effort, intended to prevent the fall of the scissors,
which presumably he had seen slide. Fortunately, these little scissors
of English steel were broken, and Madame de Renal did not spare her
regrets that Julien had not succeeded in getting nearer to her. "You
noticed them falling before I did--you could have prevented it,
instead, all your zealousness only succeeding in giving me a very big
kick." All this took in the sub-perfect, but not Madame Derville. "That
pretty boy has very silly manners," she thought. The social code of a
provincial capital never forgives this kind of lapse.

Madame de Renal found an opportunity of saying to Julien, "Be prudent,
I order you."

Julien appreciated his own clumsiness. He was upset. He deliberated
with himself for a long time, in order to ascertain whether or not he
ought to be angry at the expression "I order you." He was silly enough
to think she might have said "I order you," if it were some question
concerning the children's education, but in answering my love she puts
me on an equality. It is impossible to love without equality ... and
all his mind ran riot in making common-places on equality. He angrily
repeated to himself that verse of Corneille which Madame Derville had
taught him some days before.

                                      "L'amour
        les egalites, et ne les cherche pas."

Julien who had never had a mistress in his whole life, but yet insisted
on playing the role of a Don Juan, made a shocking fool of himself all
day. He had only one sensible idea. Bored with himself and Madame de
Renal, he viewed with apprehension the advance of the evening when he
would have to sit by her side in the darkness of the garden. He told M.
de Renal that he was going to Verrieres to see the cure. He left after
dinner, and only came back in the night.

At Verrieres Julien found M. Chelan occupied in moving. He had just
been deprived of his living; the curate Maslon was replacing him.
Julien helped the good cure, and it occurred to him to write to Fouque
that the irresistible mission which he felt for the holy ministry had
previously prevented him from accepting his kind offer, but that he had
just seen an instance of injustice, and that perhaps it would be safer
not to enter into Holy Orders.

Julien congratulated himself on his subtlety in exploiting the
dismissal of the cure of Verrieres so as to leave himself a loop-hole
for returning to commerce in the event of a gloomy prudence routing the
spirit of heroism from his mind.

CHAPTER XV

THE COCK'S SONG

    Amour en latin faict amour;
    Or done provient d'amour la mart,
    Et, par avant, souley qui moreq,
    Deuil, plours, pieges, forfailz, remord.
                                     BLASON D'AMOUR.

If Julien had possessed a little of that adroitness on which he so
gratuitously plumed himself, he could have congratulated himself the
following day on the effect produced by his journey to Verrieres. His
absence had caused his clumsiness to be forgotten. But on that day
also he was rather sulky. He had a ludicrous idea in the evening, and
with singular courage he communicated it to Madame de Renal. They had
scarcely sat down in the garden before Julien brought his mouth near
Madame de Renal's ear without waiting till it was sufficiently dark and
at the risk of compromising her terribly, said to her,

"Madame, to-night, at two o'clock, I shall go into your room, I must
tell you something."

Julien trembled lest his request should be granted. His rakish pose
weighed him down so terribly that if he could have followed his own
inclination he would have returned to his room for several days and
refrained from seeing the ladies any more. He realised that he had
spoiled by his clever conduct of last evening all the bright prospects
of the day that had just passed, and was at his wits' end what to do.

Madame de Renal answered the impertinent declaration which Julien had
dared to make to her with indignation which was real and in no way
exaggerated. He thought he could see contempt in her curt reply. The
expression "for shame," had certainly occurred in that whispered answer.

Julien went to the children's room under the pretext of having
something to say to them, and on his return he placed himself beside
Madame Derville and very far from Madame de Renal. He thus deprived
himself of all possibility of taking her hand. The conversation was
serious, and Julien acquitted himself very well, apart from a few
moments of silence during which he was cudgelling his brains.

"Why can't I invent some pretty manoeuvre," he said to himself which
will force Madame de Renal to vouchsafe to me those unambiguous signs
of tenderness which a few days ago made me think that she was mine.

Julien was extremely disconcerted by the almost desperate plight
to which he had brought his affairs. Nothing, however, would have
embarrassed him more than success.

When they separated at midnight, his pessimism made him think that
he enjoyed Madame Derville's contempt, and that probably he stood no
better with Madame de Renal.

Feeling in a very bad temper and very humiliated, Julien did not sleep.
He was leagues away from the idea of giving up all intriguing and
planning, and of living from day to day with Madame de Renal, and of
being contented like a child with the happiness brought by every day.

He racked his brains inventing clever manoeuvres, which an instant
afterwards he found absurd, and, to put it shortly, was very unhappy
when two o'clock rang from the castle clock.

The noise woke him up like the cock's crow woke up St. Peter. The most
painful episode was now timed to begin--he had not given a thought to
his impertinent proposition, since the moment when he had made it and
it had been so badly received.

"I have told her that I will go to her at two o'clock," he said to
himself as he got up, "I may be inexperienced and coarse, as the son
of a peasant naturally would be. Madame Derville has given me to
understand as much, but at any rate, I will not be weak."

Julien had reason to congratulate himself on his courage, for he had
never put his self-control to so painful a test. As he opened his door,
he was trembling to such an extent that his knees gave way under him,
and he was forced to lean against the wall.

He was without shoes; he went and listened at M. de Renal's door, and
could hear his snoring. He was disconsolate, he had no longer any
excuse for not going to her room. But, Great Heaven! What was he to do
there? He had no plan, and even if he had had one, he felt himself so
nervous that he would have been incapable of carrying it out.

Eventually, suffering a thousand times more than if he had been walking
to his death, he entered the little corridor that led to Madame de
Renal's room. He opened the door with a trembling hand and made a
frightful noise.

There was light; a night light was burning on the mantelpiece. He
had not expected this new misfortune. As she saw him enter, Madame
de Renal got quickly out of bed. "Wretch," she cried. There was a
little confusion. Julien forgot his useless plans, and turned to his
natural role. To fail to please so charming a woman appeared to him the
greatest of misfortunes. His only answer to her reproaches was to throw
himself at her feet while he kissed her knees. As she was speaking to
him with extreme harshness, he burst into tears.

When Julien came out of Madame de Renal's room some hours afterwards,
one could have said, adopting the conventional language of the novel,
that there was nothing left to be desired. In fact, he owed to the love
he had inspired, and to the unexpected impression which her alluring
charms had produced upon him, a victory to which his own clumsy tactics
would never have led him.

But victim that he was of a distorted pride, he pretended even in
the sweetest moments to play the role of a man accustomed to the
subjugation of women: he made incredible but deliberate efforts to
spoil his natural charm. Instead of watching the transports which he
was bringing into existence, and those pangs of remorse which only set
their keenness into fuller relief, the idea of duty was continually
before his eyes. He feared a frightful remorse, and eternal ridicule,
if he departed from the ideal model he proposed to follow. In a word,
the very quality which made Julien into a superior being was precisely
that which prevented him from savouring the happiness which was placed
within his grasp. It's like the case of a young girl of sixteen with a
charming complexion who is mad enough to put on rouge before going to a
ball.

Mortally terrified by the apparition of Julien, Madame de Renal was
soon a prey to the most cruel alarm. The prayers and despair of Julien
troubled her keenly.

Even when there was nothing left for her to refuse him she pushed
Julien away from her with a genuine indignation, and straightway threw
herself into his arms. There was no plan apparent in all this conduct.
She thought herself eternally damned, and tried to hide from herself
the sight of hell by loading Julien with the wildest caresses. In a
word, nothing would have been lacking in our hero's happiness, not even
an ardent sensibility in the woman whom he had just captured, if he had
only known how to enjoy it. Julien's departure did not in any way bring
to an end those ecstacies which thrilled her in spite of herself, and
those troubles of remorse which lacerated her.

"My God! being happy--being loved, is that all it comes to?" This was
Julien's first thought as he entered his room. He was a prey to the
astonishment and nervous anxiety of the man who has just obtained
what he has long desired. He has been accustomed to desire, and has
no longer anything to desire, and nevertheless has no memories. Like
a soldier coming back from parade. Julien was absorbed in rehearsing
the details of his conduct. "Have I failed in nothing which I owe to
myself? Have I played my part well?"

And what a part! the part of a man accustomed to be brilliant with
women.

CHAPTER XVI

THE DAY AFTER

    He turned his lips to hers and with his hand
    Called back the tangles of her wandering hair.
                               _Don Juan,_ c. I, st. 170.

Happily for Julien's fame, Madame de Renal had been too agitated and
too astonished to appreciate the stupidity of the man who had in a
single moment become the whole to world her.

"Oh, my God!" she said to herself, as she pressed him to retire when
she saw the dawn break, "if my husband has heard the noise, I am lost."
Julien, who had had the time to make up some phrases, remembered this
one,

"Would you regret your life?"

"Oh, very much at a moment like this, but I should not regret having
known you."

Julien thought it incumbent on his dignity to go back to his room in
broad daylight and with deliberate imprudence.

The continuous attention with which he kept on studying his slightest
actions with the absurd idea of appearing a man of experience had only
one advantage. When he saw Madame de Renal again at breakfast his
conduct was a masterpiece of prudence.

As for her, she could not look at him without blushing up to the eyes,
and could not live a moment without looking at him. She realised her
own nervousness, and her efforts to hide it redoubled. Julien only
lifted his eyes towards her once. At first Madame de Renal admired
his prudence: soon seeing that this single look was not repealed, she
became alarmed. "Could it be that he does not love me?" she said to
herself. "Alas! I am quite old for him. I am ten years older than he
is."

As she passed from the dining-room to the garden, she pressed Julien's
hand. In the surprise caused by so singular a mark of love, he regarded
her with passion, for he had thought her very pretty over breakfast,
and while keeping his eyes downcast he had passed his time in thinking
of the details of her charms. This look consoled Madame de Renal. It
did not take away all her anxiety, but her anxiety tended to take away
nearly completely all her remorse towards her husband.

The husband had noticed nothing at breakfast. It was not so with
Madame Derville. She thought she saw Madame de Renal on the point of
succumbing. During the whole day her bold and incisive friendship
regaled her cousin with those innuendoes which were intended to paint
in hideous colours the dangers she was running.

Madame de Renal was burning to find herself alone with Julien. She
wished to ask him if he still loved her. In spite of the unalterable
sweetness of her character, she was several times on the point of
notifying her friend how officious she was.

Madame Derville arranged things so adroitly that evening in the garden,
that she found herself placed between Madame de Renal and Julien.
Madame de Renal, who had thought in her imagination how delicious it
would be to press Julien's hand and carry it to her lips, was not able
to address a single word to him.

This hitch increased her agitation. She was devoured by one pang of
remorse. She had so scolded Julien for his imprudence in coming to her
room on the preceding night, that she trembled lest he should not come
to-night. She left the garden early and went and ensconced herself in
her room, but not being able to control her impatience, she went and
glued her ear to Julien's door. In spite of the uncertainty and passion
which devoured her, she did not dare to enter. This action seemed
to her the greatest possible meanness, for it forms the basis of a
provincial proverb.

The servants had not yet all gone to bed. Prudence at last compelled
her to return to her room. Two hours of waiting were two centuries of
torture.

Julien was too faithful to what he called his duty to fail to
accomplish stage by stage what he had mapped out for himself.

As one o'clock struck, he escaped softly from his room, assured himself
that the master of the house was soundly asleep, and appeared in Madame
de Renal's room. To-night he experienced more happiness by the side of
his love, for he thought less constantly about the part he had to play.
He had eyes to see, and ears to hear. What Madame de Renal said to him
about his age contributed to give him some assurance.

"Alas! I am ten years older than you. How can you love me?" she
repeated vaguely, because the idea oppressed her.

Julien could not realise her happiness, but he saw that it was genuine
and he forgot almost entirely his own fear of being ridiculous.

The foolish thought that he was regarded as an inferior, by reason of
his obscure birth, disappeared also. As Julien's transports reassured
his timid mistress, she regained a little of her happiness, and of her
power to judge her lover. Happily, he had not, on this occasion, that
artificial air which had made the assignation of the previous night a
triumph rather than a pleasure. If she had realised his concentration
on playing a part that melancholy discovery would have taken away all
her happiness for ever. She could only have seen in it the result of
the difference in their ages.

Although Madame de Renal had never thought of the theories of love,
difference in age is next to difference in fortune, one of the great
commonplaces of provincial witticisms, whenever love is the topic of
conversation.

In a few days Julien surrendered himself with all the ardour of his
age, and was desperately in love.

"One must own," he said to himself, "that she has an angelic kindness
of soul, and no one in the world is prettier."

He had almost completely given up playing a part. In a moment of
abandon, he even confessed to her all his nervousness. This confidence
raised the passion which he was inspiring to its zenith. "And I have no
lucky rival after all," said Madame de Renal to herself with delight.
She ventured to question him on the portrait in which he used to be so
interested. Julien swore to her that it was that of a man.

When Madame de Renal had enough presence of mind left to reflect, she
did not recover from her astonishment that so great a happiness could
exist; and that she had never had anything of.

"Oh," she said to herself, "if I had only known Julien ten years ago
when I was still considered pretty."

Julien was far from having thoughts like these. His love was still
akin to ambition. It was the joy of possessing, poor, unfortunate and
despised as he was, so beautiful a woman. His acts of devotion, and his
ecstacies at the sight of his mistress's charms finished by reassuring
her a little with regard to the difference of age. If she had possessed
a little of that knowledge of life which the woman of thirty has
enjoyed in the more civilised of countries for quite a long time, she
would have trembled for the duration of a love, which only seemed to
thrive on novelty and the intoxication of a young man's vanity. In
those moments when he forgot his ambition, Julien admired ecstatically
even the hats and even the dresses of Madame de Renal. He could not
sate himself with the pleasure of smelling their perfume. He would open
her mirrored cupboard, and remain hours on end admiring the beauty and
the order of everything that he found there. His love leaned on him and
looked at him. He was looking at those jewels and those dresses which
had had been her wedding presents.

"I might have married a man like that," thought Madame de Renal
sometimes. "What a fiery soul! What a delightful life one would have
with him?"

As for Julien, he had never been so near to those terrible instruments
of feminine artillery. "It is impossible," he said to himself "for
there to be anything more beautiful in Paris." He could find no flaw
in his happiness. The sincere admiration and ecstacies of his mistress
would frequently make him forget that silly pose which had rendered
him so stiff and almost ridiculous during the first moments of the
intrigue. There were moments where, in spite of his habitual hypocrisy,
he found an extreme delight in confessing to this great lady who
admired him, his ignorance of a crowd of little usages. His mistress's
rank seemed to lift him above himself. Madame de Renal, on her side,
would find the sweetest thrill of intellectual voluptuousness in thus
instructing in a number of little things this young man who was so full
of genius, and who was looked upon by everyone as destined one day to
go so far. Even the sub-prefect and M. Valenod could not help admiring
him. She thought it made them less foolish. As for Madame Derville, she
was very far from being in a position to express the same sentiments.
Rendered desperate by what she thought she divined, and seeing that
her good advice was becoming offensive to a woman who had literally
lost her head, she left Vergy without giving the explanation, which
her friend carefully refrained from asking. Madame de Renal shed a few
tears for her, and soon found her happiness greater than ever. As a
result of her departure, she found herself alone with her lover nearly
the whole day.

Julien abandoned himself all the more to the delightful society of his
sweetheart, since, whenever he was alone, Fouque's fatal proposition
still continued to agitate him. During the first days of his novel life
there were moments when the man who had never loved, who had never been
loved by anyone, would find so delicious a pleasure in being sincere,
that he was on the point of confessing to Madame de Renal that ambition
which up to then had been the very essence of his existence. He would
have liked to have been able to consult her on the strange temptation
which Fouque's offer held out to him, but a little episode rendered any
frankness impossible.

CHAPTER XVII

THE FIRST DEPUTY

    Oh, how this spring of love resembleth
    The uncertain glory of an April day,
    Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
    And by and by a cloud takes all away.
                   _Two Gentlemen of Verona._

One evening when the sun was setting, and he was sitting near his love,
at the bottom of the orchard, far from all intruders, he meditated
deeply. "Will such sweet moments" he said to himself "last for ever?"
His soul was engrossed in the difficulty of deciding on a calling. He
lamented that great attack of unhappiness which comes at the end of
childhood and spoils the first years of youth in those who are not rich.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "was not Napoleon the heaven-sent saviour for young
Frenchmen? Who is to replace him? What will those unfortunate youths
do without him, who, even though they are richer than I am, have only
just the few crowns necessary to procure an education for themselves,
but have not at the age of twenty enough money to buy a man and advance
themselves in their career." "Whatever one does," he added, with a deep
sigh, "this fatal memory will always prevent our being happy."

He suddenly saw Madame de Renal frown. She assumed a cold and
disdainful air. She thought his way of looking at things typical of a
servant. Brought up as she was with the idea that she was very rich,
she took it for granted that Julien was so also. She loved him a
thousand times more than life and set no store by money.

Julien was far from guessing these ideas, but that frown brought him
back to earth. He had sufficient presence of mind to manipulate his
phrases, and to give the noble lady who was sitting so near him on the
grass seat to understand that the words he had just repeated had been
heard by him during his journey to his friend the wood merchant. It was
the logic of infidels.

"Well, have nothing to do with those people," said Madame de Renal,
still keeping a little of that icy air which had suddenly succeeded an
expression of the warmest tenderness.

This frown, or rather his remorse for his own imprudence, was the
first check to the illusion which was transporting Julien. He said to
himself, "She is good and sweet, she has a great fancy for me, but she
has been brought up in the enemy's camp. They must be particularly
afraid of that class of men of spirit who, after a good education, have
not enough money to take up a career. What would become of those nobles
if we had an opportunity of fighting them with equal arms. Suppose me,
for example, mayor of Verrieres, and as well meaning and honest as M.
de Renal is at bottom. What short shrift I should make of the vicaire,
M. Valenod and all their jobberies! How justice would triumph in
Verrieres. It is not their talents which would stop me. They are always
fumbling about."

That day Julien's happiness almost became permanent. Our hero lacked
the power of daring to be sincere. He ought to have had the courage to
have given battle, and on the spot; Madame de Renal had been astonished
by Julien's phrase, because the men in her circle kept on repeating
that the return of Robespierre was essentially possible by reason of
those over-educated young persons of the lower classes. Madame de
Renal's coldness lasted a longish time, and struck Julien as marked.
The reason was that the fear that she had said something in some way or
other disagreeable to him, succeeded her annoyance for his own breach
of taste. This unhappiness was vividly reflected in those features
which looked so pure and so naive when she was happy and away from
intruders.

Julien no longer dared to surrender himself to his dreams. Growing
calmer and less infatuated, he considered that it was imprudent to go
and see Madame de Renal in her room. It was better for her to come to
him. If a servant noticed her going about the house, a dozen different
excuses could explain it.

But this arrangement had also its inconveniences. Julien had received
from Fouque some books, which he, as a theology student would never
have dared to ask for in a bookshop. He only dared to open them at
night. He would often have found it much more convenient not to be
interrupted by a visit, the very waiting for which had even on the
evening before the little scene in the orchard completely destroyed his
mood for reading.

He had Madame de Renal to thank for understanding books in quite a new
way. He had dared to question her on a number of little things, the
ignorance of which cuts quite short the intellectual progress of any
young man born out of society, however much natural genius one may
choose to ascribe to him.

This education given through sheer love by a woman who was extremely
ignorant, was a piece of luck. Julien managed to get a clear insight
into society such as it is to-day. His mind was not bewildered by the
narration of what it had been once, two thousand years ago, or even
sixty years ago, in the time of Voltaire and Louis XV. The scales fell
from his eyes to his inexpressible joy, and he understood at last what
was going on in Verrieres.

In the first place there were the very complicated intrigues which
had been woven for the last two years around the prefect of Besancon.
They were backed up by letters from Paris, written by the cream of
the aristocracy. The scheme was to make M. de Moirod (he was the most
devout man in the district) the first and not the second deputy of the
mayor of Verrieres.

He had for a competitor a very rich manufacturer whom it was essential
to push back into the place of second deputy.

Julien understood at last the innuendoes which he had surprised,
when the high society of the locality used to come and dine at M. de
Renal's. This privileged society was deeply concerned with the choice
of a first deputy, while the rest of the town, and above all, the
Liberals, did not even suspect its possibility. The factor which made
the matter important was that, as everybody knows, the east side of the
main street of Verrieres has to be put more than nine feet back since
that street has become a royal route.

Now if M. de Moirod, who had three houses liable to have their frontage
put back, succeeded in becoming first deputy and consequently mayor in
the event of M. de Renal being elected to the chamber, he would shut
his eyes, and it would be possible to make little imperceptible repairs
in the houses projecting on to the public road, as the result of which
they would last a hundred years. In spite of the great piety and proved
integrity of M. de Moirod, everyone was certain that he would prove
amenable, because he had a great many children. Among the houses liable
to have their frontage put back nine belonged to the cream of Verrieres
society.

In Julien's eyes this intrigue was much more important than the history
of the battle of Fontenoy, whose name he now came across for the first
time in one of the books which Fouque had sent him. There had been
many things which had astonished Julien since the time five years ago
when he had started going to the cure's in the evening. But discretion
and humility of spirit being the primary qualities of a theological
student, it had always been impossible for him to put questions.

One day Madame de Renal was giving an order to her husband's valet who
was Julien's enemy.

"But, Madame, to-day is the last Friday in the month," the man answered
in a rather strange manner.

"Go," said Madame de Renal.

"Well," said Julien, "I suppose he's going to go to that corn shop
which was once a church, and has recently been restored to religion,
but what is he going to do there? That's one of the mysteries which I
have never been able to fathom."

"It's a very literary institution, but a very curious one," answered
Madame de Renal. "Women are not admitted to it. All I know is, that
everybody uses the second person singular. This servant, for instance,
will go and meet M. Valenod there, and the haughty prig will not be
a bit offended at hearing himself addressed by Saint-Jean in that
familiar way, and will answer him in the same way. If you are keen on
knowing what takes place, I will ask M. de Maugiron and M. Valenod
for details. We pay twenty francs for each servant, to prevent their
cutting our throats one fine day."

Time flew. The memory of his mistress's charms distracted Julien from
his black ambition. The necessity of refraining from mentioning gloomy
or intellectual topics since they both belonged to opposing parties,
added, without his suspecting it, to the happiness which he owed her,
and to the dominion which she acquired over him.

On the occasions when the presence of the precocious children reduced
them to speaking the language of cold reason, Julien looking at her
with eyes sparkling with love, would listen with complete docility to
her explanations of the world as it is. Frequently, in the middle of an
account of some cunning piece of jobbery, with reference to a road or
a contract, Madame de Renal's mind would suddenly wander to the very
point of delirium. Julien found it necessary to scold her. She indulged
when with him in the same intimate gestures which she used with her
own children. The fact was that there were days when she deceived
herself that she loved him like her own child. Had she not repeatedly
to answer his naive questions about a thousand simple things that a
well-born child of fifteen knows quite well? An instant afterwards
she would admire him like her master. His genius would even go so far
as to frighten her. She thought she should see more clearly every day
the future great man in this young abbe. She saw him Pope; she saw him
first minister like Richelieu. "Shall I live long enough to see you in
your glory?" she said to Julien. "There is room for a great man; church
and state have need of one."

CHAPTER XVIII

A KING AT VERRIERES

    Do you not deserve to be thrown aside like a plebeian
    corpse which has no soul and whose blood flows no
    longer in its veins.
                   _Sermon of the Bishop at the Chapel of Saint Clement_.

On the 3rd of September at ten o'clock in the evening, a gendarme woke
up the whole of Verrieres by galloping up the main street. He brought
the news that His Majesty the King of ---- would arrive the following
Sunday, and it was already Tuesday. The prefect authorised, that is to
say, demanded the forming of a guard of honour. They were to exhibit
all possible pomp. An express messenger was sent to Vergy. M. de Renal
arrived during the night and found the town in a commotion. Each
individual had his own pretensions; those who were less busy hired
balconies to see the King.

Who was to command the Guard of Honour? M. de Renal at once realised
how essential it was in the interests of the houses liable to have
their frontage put back that M. de Moirod should have the command.
That might entitle him to the post of first deputy-mayor. There was
nothing to say against the devoutness of M. de Moirod. It brooked
no comparison, but he had never sat on a horse. He was a man of
thirty-six, timid in every way, and equally frightened of falling and
of looking ridiculous. The mayor had summoned him as early as five
o'clock in the morning.

"You see, monsieur, I ask your advice, as though you already occupy
that post to which all the people on the right side want to carry you.
In this unhappy town, manufacturers are prospering, the Liberal party
is becoming possessed of millions, it aspires to power; it will manage
to exploit everything to its own ends. Let us consult the interests of
the king, the interest of the monarchy, and above all, the interest of
our holy religion. Who do you think, monsieur, could be entrusted with
the command of the guard of honour?"

In spite of the terrible fear with which horses inspired him, M. de
Moirod finished by accepting this honour like a martyr. "I shall know
how to take the right tone," he said to the mayor. There was scarcely
time enough to get ready the uniforms which had served seven years ago
on the occasion of the passage of a prince of the blood.

At seven o'clock, Madame de Renal arrived at Vergy with Julien and
the children. She found her drawing room filled with Liberal ladies
who preached the union of all parties and had come to beg her to urge
her husband to grant a place to theirs in the guard of honour. One of
them actually asserted that if her husband was not chosen he would go
bankrupt out of chagrin. Madame de Renal quickly got rid of all these
people. She seemed very engrossed.

Julien was astonished, and what was more, angry that she should make
a mystery of what was disturbing her, "I had anticipated it," he said
bitterly to himself. "Her love is being over-shadowed by the happiness
of receiving a King in her house. All this hubbub overcomes her. She
will love me once more when the ideas of her caste no longer trouble
her brain."

An astonishing fact, he only loved her the more.

The decorators began to fill the house. He watched a long time for the
opportunity to exchange a few words. He eventually found her as she was
coming out of his own room, carrying one of his suits. They were alone.
He tried to speak to her. She ran away, refusing to listen to him. "I
am an absolute fool to love a woman like that, whose ambition renders
her as mad as her husband."

She was madder. One of her great wishes which she had never confessed
to Julien for fear of shocking him, was to see him leave off, if only
for one day, his gloomy black suit. With an adroitness which was truly
admirable in so ingenuous a woman, she secured first from M. de Moirod,
and subsequently, from M. the sub-perfect de Maugiron, an assurance
that Julien should be nominated a guard of honour in preference to five
or six young people, the sons of very well-off manufacturers, of whom
two at least, were models of piety. M. de Valenod, who reckoned on
lending his carriage to the prettiest women in the town, and on showing
off his fine Norman steeds, consented to let Julien (the being he hated
most in the whole world) have one of his horses. But all the guards of
honour, either possessed or had borrowed, one of those pretty sky-blue
uniforms, with two silver colonel epaulettes, which had shone seven
years ago. Madame de Renal wanted a new uniform, and she only had four
days in which to send to Besancon and get from there the uniform, the
arms, the hat, etc., everything necessary for a Guard of Honour. The
most delightful part of it was that she thought it imprudent to get
Julien's uniform made at Verrieres. She wanted to surprise both him and
the town.

Having settled the questions of the guards of honour, and of the public
welcome finished, the mayor had now to organise a great religious
ceremony. The King of ---- did not wish to pass through Verrieres
without visiting the famous relic of St. Clement, which is kept at
Bray-le-Haut barely a league from the town. The authorities wanted
to have a numerous attendance of the clergy, but this matter was the
most difficult to arrange. M. Maslon, the new cure, wanted to avoid at
any price the presence of M. Chelan. It was in vain that M. de Renal
tried to represent to him that it would be imprudent to do so. M. the
Marquis de La Mole whose ancestors had been governors of the province
for so many generations, had been chosen to accompany the King of ----.
He had known the abbe Chelan for thirty years. He would certainly ask
news of him when he arrived at Verrieres, and if he found him disgraced
he was the very man to go and route him out in the little house to
which he had retired, accompanied by all the escort that he had at his
disposition. What a rebuff that would be?

"I shall be disgraced both here and at Besancon," answered the abbe
Maslon, "if he appears among my clergy. A Jansenist, by the Lord."

"Whatever you can say, my dear abbe," replied M. de Renal, "I'll never
expose the administration of Verrieres to receiving such an affront
from M. de la Mole. You do not know him. He is orthodox enough at
Court, but here in the provinces, he is a satirical wit and cynic,
whose only object is to make people uncomfortable. He is capable of
covering us with ridicule in the eyes of the Liberals, simply in order
to amuse himself."

It was only on the night between the Saturday and the Sunday, after
three whole days of negotiations that the pride of the abbe Maslon bent
before the fear of the mayor, which was now changing into courage. It
was necessary to write a honeyed letter to the abbe Chelan, begging
him to be present at the ceremony in connection with the relic of
Bray-le-Haut, if of course, his great age and his infirmity allowed him
to do so. M. Chelan asked for and obtained a letter of invitation for
Julien, who was to accompany him as his sub-deacon.

From the beginning of the Sunday morning, thousands of peasants began
to arrive from the neighbouring mountains, and to inundate the streets
of Verrieres. It was the finest sunshine. Finally, about three o'clock,
a thrill swept through all this crowd. A great fire had been perceived
on a rock two leagues from Verrieres. This signal announced that the
king had just entered the territory of the department. At the same
time, the sound of all the bells and the repeated volleys from an old
Spanish cannon which belonged to the town, testified to its joy at
this great event. Half the population climbed on to the roofs. All the
women were on the balconies. The guard of honour started to march, The
brilliant uniforms were universally admired; everybody recognised a
relative or a friend. They made fun of the timidity of M. de Moirod,
whose prudent hand was ready every single minute to catch hold of his
saddle-bow. But one remark resulted in all the others being forgotten;
the first cavalier in the ninth line was a very pretty, slim boy, who
was not recognised at first. He soon created a general sensation, as
some uttered a cry of indignation, and others were dumbfounded with
astonishment. They recognised in this young man, who was sitting one
of the Norman horses of M. Valenod, little Sorel, the carpenter's son.
There was a unanimous out-cry against the mayor, above all on the part
of the Liberals. What, because this little labourer, who masqueraded as
an abbe, was tutor to his brats, he had the audacity to nominate him
guard of honour to the prejudice of rich manufacturers like so-and-so
and so-and-so! "Those gentlemen," said a banker's wife, "ought to put
that insolent gutter-boy in his proper place."

"He is cunning and carries a sabre," answered her neighbour. "He would
be dastardly enough to slash them in the face."

The conversation of aristocratic society was more dangerous. The ladies
began to ask each other if the mayor alone was responsible for this
grave impropriety. Speaking generally, they did justice to his contempt
for lack of birth.

Julien was the happiest of men, while he was the subject of so much
conversation. Bold by nature, he sat a horse better than the majority
of the young men of this mountain town. He saw that, in the eyes of the
women, he was the topic of interest.

His epaulettes were more brilliant than those of the others, because
they were new. His horse pranced at every moment. He reached the zenith
of joy.

His happiness was unbounded when, as they passed by the old rampart,
the noise of the little cannon made his horse prance outside the line.
By a great piece of luck he did not fall; from that moment he felt
himself a hero. He was one of Napoleon's officers of artillery, and was
charging a battery.

One person was happier than he. She had first seen him pass from one
of the folding windows in the Hotel de Ville. Then taking her carriage
and rapidly making a long detour, she arrived in time to shudder when
his horse took him outside the line. Finally she put her carriage to
the gallop, left by another gate of the town, succeeded in rejoining
the route by which the King was to pass, and was able to follow the
Guard of Honour at twenty paces distance in the midst of a noble dust.
Six thousand peasants cried "Long live the King," when the mayor had
the honour to harangue his Majesty. An hour afterwards, when all the
speeches had been listened to, and the King was going to enter the
town, the little cannon began again to discharge its spasmodic volleys.
But an accident ensued, the victim being, not one of the cannoneers who
had proved their mettle at Leipsic and at Montreuil, but the future
deputy-mayor, M. de Moirod. His horse gently laid him in the one heap
of mud on the high road, a somewhat scandalous circumstance, inasmuch
as it was necessary to extricate him to allow the King to pass. His
Majesty alighted at the fine new church, which was decked out to-day
with all its crimson curtains. The King was due to dine, and then
afterwards take his carriage again and go and pay his respects to the
celebrated relic of Saint Clement. Scarcely was the King in the church
than Julien galloped towards the house of M. de Renal. Once there
he doffed with a sigh his fine sky-blue uniform, his sabre and his
epaulettes, to put on again his shabby little black suit. He mounted
his horse again, and in a few moments was at Bray-le-Haut, which was
on the summit of a very pretty hill. "Enthusiasm is responsible for
these numbers of peasants," thought Julien. It was impossible to move
a step at Verrieres, and here there were more than ten thousand round
this ancient abbey. Half ruined by the vandalism of the Revolution,
it had been magnificently restored since the Restoration, and people
were already beginning to talk of miracles. Julien rejoined the abbe
Chelan, who scolded him roundly and gave him a cassock and a surplice.
He dressed quickly and followed M. Chelan, who was going to pay a call
on the young bishop of Agde. He was a nephew of M. de la Mole, who had
been recently nominated, and had been charged with the duty of showing
the relic to the King. But the bishop was not to be found.

The clergy began to get impatient. It was awaiting its chief in the
sombre Gothic cloister of the ancient abbey. Twenty-four cures had
been brought together so as to represent the ancient chapter of
Bray-le-Haut, which before 1789 consisted of twenty-four canons. The
cures, having deplored the bishop's youth for three-quarters of an
hour, thought it fitting for their senior to visit Monseigneur to
apprise him that the King was on the point of arriving, and that it was
time to betake himself to the choir. The great age of M. Chelan gave
him the seniority. In spite of the bad temper which he was manifesting
to Julien, he signed him to follow. Julien was wearing his surplice
with distinction. By means of some trick or other of ecclesiastical
dress, he had made his fine curling hair very flat, but by a
forgetfulness, which redoubled the anger of M. Chelan, the spurs of the
Guard of Honour could be seen below the long folds of his cassock.

When they arrived at the bishop's apartment, the tall lackeys with
their lace-frills scarcely deigned to answer the old cure to the effect
that Monseigneur was not receiving. They made fun of him when he tried
to explain that in his capacity of senior member of the chapter of
Bray-le-Haut, he had the privilege of being admitted at any time to the
officiating bishop.

Julien's haughty temper was shocked by the lackeys' insolence. He
started to traverse the corridors of the ancient abbey, and to shake
all the doors which he found. A very small one yielded to his efforts,
and he found himself in a cell in the midst of Monseigneur's valets,
who were dressed in black suits with chains on their necks. His hurried
manner made these gentlemen think that he had been sent by the bishop,
and they let him pass. He went some steps further on, and found himself
in an immense Gothic hall, which was extremely dark, and completely
wainscotted in black oak. The ogive windows had all been walled in
with brick except one. There was nothing to disguise the coarseness
of this masonry, which offered a melancholy contrast to the ancient
magnificence of the woodwork. The two great sides of this hall, so
celebrated among Burgundian antiquaries, and built by the Duke, Charles
the Bold, about 1470 in expiation of some sin, were adorned with richly
sculptured wooden stalls. All the mysteries of the Apocalypse were to
be seen portrayed in wood of different colours.

This melancholy magnificence, debased as it was by the sight of the
bare bricks and the plaster (which was still quite white) affected
Julien. He stopped in silence. He saw at the other extremity of the
hall, near the one window which let in the daylight, a movable mahogany
mirror. A young man in a violet robe and a lace surplice, but with his
head bare, was standing still three paces from the glass. This piece
of furniture seemed strange in a place like this, and had doubtless
been only brought there on the previous day. Julien thought that the
young man had the appearance of being irritated. He was solemnly giving
benedictions with his right hand close to the mirror.

"What can this mean," he thought. "Is this young priest performing some
preliminary ceremony? Perhaps he is the bishop's secretary. He will be
as insolent as the lackeys. Never mind though! Let us try." He advanced
and traversed somewhat slowly the length of the hall, with his gaze
fixed all the time on the one window, and looking at the young man who
continued without any intermission bestowing slowly an infinite number
of blessings.

The nearer he approached the better he could distinguish his angry
manner. The richness of the lace surplice stopped Julien in spite of
himself some paces in front of the mirror. "It is my duty to speak," he
said to himself at last. But the beauty of the hall had moved him, and
he was already upset by the harsh words he anticipated.

The young man saw him in the mirror, turned round, and suddenly
discarding his angry manner, said to him in the gentlest tone,

"Well, Monsieur, has it been arranged at last?"

Julien was dumbfounded. As the young man began to turn towards him,
Julien saw the pectoral cross on his breast. It was the bishop of Agde.
"As young as that," thought Julien. "At most six or eight years older
than I am!"

He was ashamed of his spurs.

"Monseigneur," he said at last, "I am sent by M. Chelan, the senior of
the chapter."

"Ah, he has been well recommended to me," said the bishop in a polished
tone which doubled Julien's delight, "But I beg your pardon, Monsieur,
I mistook you for the person who was to bring me my mitre. It was badly
packed at Paris. The silver cloth towards the top has been terribly
spoiled. It will look awful," ended the young bishop sadly, "And
besides, I am being kept waiting."

"Monseigneur, I will go and fetch the mitre if your grace will let me."

Julien's fine eyes did their work.

"Go, Monsieur," answered the bishop, with charming politeness. "I need
it immediately. I am grieved to keep the gentlemen of the chapter
waiting."

When Julien reached the centre of the hall, he turned round towards the
bishop, and saw that he had again commenced giving benedictions.

"What can it be?" Julien asked himself. "No doubt it is a necessary
ecclesiastical preliminary for the ceremony which is to take place."
When he reached the cell in which the valets were congregated, he
saw the mitre in their hands. These gentlemen succumbed in spite of
themselves to his imperious look, and gave him Monseigneur's mitre.

He felt proud to carry it. As he crossed the hall he walked slowly. He
held it with reverence. He found the bishop seated before the glass,
but from time to time, his right hand, although fatigued, still gave a
blessing. Julien helped him to adjust his mitre. The bishop shook his
head.

"Ah! it will keep on," he said to Julien with an air of satisfaction.
"Do you mind going a little way off?"

Then the bishop went very quickly to the centre of the room, then
approached the mirror, again resumed his angry manner, and gravely
began to give blessings.

Julien was motionless with astonishment. He was tempted to understand,
but did not dare. The bishop stopped, and suddenly abandoning his grave
manner looked at him and said:

"What do you think of my mitre, monsieur, is it on right?"

"Quite right, Monseigneur."

"It is not too far back? That would look a little silly, but I mustn't
on the other hand wear it down over the eyes like an officer's shako."

"It seems to me to be on quite right."

"The King of ---- is accustomed to a venerable clergy who are doubtless
very solemn. I should not like to appear lacking in dignity, especially
by reason of my youth."

And the bishop started again to walk about and give benedictions.

"It is quite clear," said Julien, daring to understand at last, "He is
practising giving his benediction."

"I am ready," the bishop said after a few moments. "Go, Monsieur, and
advise the senior and the gentlemen of the chapter."

Soon M. Chelan, followed by the two oldest cures, entered by a big
magnificently sculptured door, which Julien had not previously noticed.
But this time he remained in his place quite at the back, and was only
able to see the bishop over the shoulders of ecclesiastics who were
pressing at the door in crowds.

The bishop began slowly to traverse the hall. When he reached the
threshold, the cures formed themselves into a procession. After a short
moment of confusion, the procession began to march intoning the psalm.
The bishop, who was between M. Chelan and a very old cure, was the last
to advance. Julien being in attendance on the abbe Chelan managed to
get quite near Monseigneur. They followed the long corridors of the
abbey of Bray-le-Haut. In spite of the brilliant sun they were dark and
damp. They arrived finally at the portico of the cloister. Julien was
dumbfounded with admiration for so fine a ceremony. His emotions were
divided between thoughts of his own ambition which had been reawakened
by the bishop's youth and thoughts of the latter's refinement and
exquisite politeness. This politeness was quite different to that of M.
de Renal, even on his good days. "The higher you lift yourself towards
the first rank of society," said Julien to himself, "the more charming
manners you find."

They entered the church by a side door; suddenly an awful noise made
the ancient walls echo. Julien thought they were going to crumble. It
was the little piece of artillery again. It had been drawn at a gallop
by eight horses and had just arrived. Immediately on its arrival it had
been run out by the Leipsic cannoneers and fired five shots a minute as
though the Prussians had been the target.

But this admirable noise no longer produced any effect on Julien. He no
longer thought of Napoleon and military glory. "To be bishop of Agde so
young," he thought. "But where is Agde? How much does it bring in? Two
or three hundred thousand francs, perhaps."

Monseigneur's lackeys appeared with a magnificent canopy. M. Chelan
took one of the poles, but as a matter of fact it was Julien who
carried it. The bishop took his place underneath. He had really
succeeded in looking old; and our hero's admiration was now quite
unbounded. "What can't one accomplish with skill," he thought.

The king entered. Julien had the good fortune to see him at close
quarters. The bishop began to harangue him with unction, without
forgetting a little nuance of very polite anxiety for his Majesty.
We will not repeat a description of the ceremony of Bray-le-Haut.
They filled all the columns of the journals of the department for a
fortnight on end. Julien learnt from the bishop that the king was
descended from Charles the Bold.

At a later date, it was one of Julien's duties to check the accounts
of the cost of this ceremony. M. de la Mole, who had succeeded in
procuring a bishopric for his nephew, had wished to do him the favour
of being himself responsible for all the expenses. The ceremony alone
of Bray-le-Haute cost three thousand eight hundred francs.

After the speech of the bishop, and the answer of the king, his
Majesty took up a position underneath the canopy, and then knelt very
devoutly on a cushion near the altar. The choir was surrounded by
stalls, and the stalls were raised two steps from the pavement. It
was at the bottom of these steps that Julien sat at the feet of M.
de Chelan almost like a train-bearer sitting next to his cardinal in
the Sixtine chapel at Rome. There was a _Te Deum_, floods of incense,
innumerable volleys of musketry and artillery; the peasants were drunk
with happiness and piety. A day like this undoes the work of a hundred
numbers of the Jacobin papers.

Julien was six paces from the king, who was really praying with
devotion. He noticed for the first time a little man with a witty
expression, who wore an almost plain suit. But he had a sky-blue ribbon
over this very simple suit. He was nearer the king than many other
lords, whose clothes were embroidered with gold to such an extent that,
to use Julien's expression, it was impossible to see the cloth. He
learnt some minutes later that it was Monsieur de la Mole. He thought
he looked haughty, and even insolent.

"I'm sure this marquis is not so polite as my pretty bishop," he
thought. "Ah, the ecclesiastical calling makes men mild and good. But
the king has come to venerate the relic, and I don't see a trace of the
relic. Where has Saint Clement got to?"

A little priest who sat next to him informed him that the venerable
relic was at the top of the building in a _chapelle ardente_.

"What is a _chapelle ardente_," said Julien to himself.

But he was reluctant to ask the meaning of this word. He redoubled his
attention.

The etiquette on the occasion of a visit of a sovereign prince is
that the canons do not accompany the bishop. But, as he started on
his march to the _chapelle ardente_, my lord bishop of Agde called
the abbe Chelan. Julien dared to follow him. Having climbed up a long
staircase, they reached an extremely small door whose Gothic frame
was magnificently gilded. This work looked as though it had been
constructed the day before.

Twenty-four young girls belonging to the most distinguished families in
Verrieres were assembled in front of the door. The bishop knelt down
in the midst of these pretty maidens before he opened the door. While
he was praying aloud, they seemed unable to exhaust their admiration
for his fine lace, his gracious mien, and his young and gentle face.
This spectacle deprived our hero of his last remnants of reason. At
this moment he would have fought for the Inquisition, and with a good
conscience. The door suddenly opened. The little chapel was blazing
with light. More than a thousand candles could be seen before the
altar, divided into eight lines and separated from each other by
bouquets of flowers. The suave odour of the purest incense eddied
out from the door of the sanctuary. The chapel, which had been newly
gilded, was extremely small but very high. Julien noticed that there
were candles more than fifteen feet high upon the altar. The young
girls could not restrain a cry of admiration. Only the twenty-four
young girls, the two cures and Julien had been admitted into the little
vestibule of the chapel. Soon the king arrived, followed by Monsieur
de la Mole and his great Chamberlain. The guards themselves remained
outside kneeling and presenting arms.

His Majesty precipitated, rather than threw himself, on to the stool.
It was only then that Julien, who was keeping close to the gilded
door, perceived over the bare arm of a young girl, the charming statue
of St. Clement. It was hidden under the altar, and bore the dress of
a young Roman soldier. It had a large wound on its neck, from which
the blood seemed to flow. The artist had surpassed himself. The eyes,
which though dying were full of grace, were half closed. A budding
moustache adored that charming mouth which, though half closed, seemed
notwithstanding to be praying. The young girl next to Julien wept warm
tears at the sight. One of her tears fell on Julien's hand.

After a moment of prayer in the profoundest silence, that was only
broken by the distant sound of the bells of all the villages within a
radius of ten leagues, the bishop of Agde asked the king's permission
to speak. He finished a short but very touching speech with a passage,
the very simplicity of which assured its effectiveness:

"Never forget, young Christian women, that you have seen one of the
greatest kings of the world on his knees before the servants of
this Almighty and terrible God. These servants, feeble, persecuted,
assassinated as they were on earth, as you can see by the still
bleeding wounds of Saint Clement, will triumph in Heaven. You will
remember them, my young Christian women, will you not, this day for
ever, and will detest the infidel. You will be for ever faithful to
this God who is so great, so terrible, but so good?"

With these words the bishop rose authoritatively.

"You promise me?" he said, lifting up his arm with an inspired air.

"We promise," said the young girls melting into tears.

"I accept your promise in the name of the terrible God," added the
bishop in a thunderous voice, and the ceremony was at an end.

The king himself was crying. It was only a long time afterwards that
Julien had sufficient self-possession to enquire "where were the bones
of the Saint that had been sent from Rome to Philip the Good, Duke of
Burgundy?" He was told that they were hidden in the charming waxen
figure.

His Majesty deigned to allow the young ladies who had accompanied him
into the chapel to wear a red ribbon on which were embroidered these
words, "HATE OF THE INFIDEL. PERPETUAL ADORATION."

Monsieur de la Mole had ten thousand bottles of wine distributed among
the peasants. In the evening at Verrieres, the Liberals made a point of
having illuminations which were a hundred times better than those of
the Royalists. Before leaving, the king paid a visit to M. de Moirod.

Julien obtains a leave of absence and visits his friend Fouque, who lives in the mountains surrounding Verrieres. Fouque offers Julien a job in the lumber trade, which promises to be quite lucrative in the coming years, but Julien refuses him. Fouque's tempting proposition gives Julien a renewed energy and vigor to climb the social ladder just like his hero Napoleon. When he returns to Verrieres, Julien realizes that Mme. de Renal's constant blushing and new wardrobe mean that she is in love with him. He decides to take their flirtation to its logical conclusion, feeling that it is his duty to become her lover. Like a Napoleonic soldier, he draws up a battle plan, thinking of Mme. de Renal more as an enemy than a lover. One night he sneaks into her bedroom and convinces Mme. de Renal to let him stay the night. Julien's love is still only a form of ambition. Mme. de Renal becomes his mistress and thus makes him feel like he belongs to a higher social class. But Julien soon reminds himself that, although she loves him, Mme. de Renal is, militaristically speaking, part of the enemy camp. He overhears M. de Renal and other Conservatives selecting a new town deputy without any liberal's knowledge and realizes that he cannot trust anyone. Julien's wavering between wanting success in the Church and success in the army climaxes with the visit of a king at Verrieres. Mme. de Renal secures Julien a position in the honor guard that welcomes the king. However, Julien must quickly change out of his military uniform and into his priestly attire in order to assist M. Chelan with the king's services at the church. Although dressing up like a soldier is a dream come true for Julien, he is also inspired by the Bishop of Agde. The bishop's youth convinces Julien that his path to power lies with the Church.

Commentary Fouque's proposal is a defining moment in Julien's life. Fouque offers Julien certain prosperity but little societal glory. Julien is convinced that he can achieve both financial success and political glory at a young age just as Napoleon did. Julien's rejection of Fouque's offer is also a rejection of the bourgeoisie: he believes that true success in French society cannot be bought, it must be won. Julien is immediately confronted with this alternative road to success when he realizes that Mme. de Renal is in love with him. With so few ways to achieve glory under the Restoration, Julien sees his military-like seduction of Mme. de Renal as the only thing left for a soldier to do. Stendhal describes Julien's behavior with bitter irony in this section. Julien really has no idea what he is doing: when Mme. de Renal asks him if he has a nickname, Julien is unable to respond because that question had not been anticipated in his battle plan. Although Julien is a romantic hero, Stendhal's seventeenth-century influences lead him to also describe Julien as "stupid" and "awkward." But Julien does succeed in becoming Mme. de Renal's lover, and forgets that it was his tears and not his bravery that compelled Mme. de Renal to let him spend the night with her. Julien's "victory" makes him think that power can still be attained in French society by following Napoleon's example. Stendhal's reference to the scheming of M. de Renal and other aristocrats proves that Julien is right to think of the Renals as his enemy. However, the king's visit makes Julien reconsider his need to fight battles in order to conquer French society. Wearing the military uniform of an honor guard brings him closer to the glory of Napoleon, but as the day continues he realizes that the Church has become a more powerful institution than the army. This section best illustrates the tension in the title of the novel. Julien must choose between the red uniforms of the army and the black dress of the Church. His indecision is shown at the Verrieres church, where his priestly cassock barely covers the army boots he did not have time to change. Yet, when Julien meets the Bishop of Agde, he decides that the Church is where he can become most powerful. The bishop is only eight years older than Julien, and thus about the same age as Napoleon when he became a famous general. Julien understands that the young Napoleons of his day seek power and glory in the Church. Mme. de Renal realizes this as well, hoping that Julien will become a powerful Church figure with strong ties to the monarchy.