Louis Lambert — Honoré de Balzac, trans. Katharine Prescott Wormeley

‘‘Are you in pain?’’ said she, in a voice which produced on him the same effect as her look. ‘What can I do for you?”

‘‘Love me, as I love you!”’

‘*Poor Minna!’’ said she.

‘“‘T never bring any weapons!”’ cried Wilfrid.

‘‘You are in a detestable temper,’’ said Seraphita, smiling. ‘‘Have I not spoken nicely, like the Parisian ladies of whom you tell me love stories ?”’

Wilfrid sat down, folded his arms, and looked gloomily at Seraphita.

“TI forgive you,’’ said he, ‘‘for you know not what you do.”’

‘*Oh!’’ retorted she, ‘‘every woman from Eve downward knows when she is doing good or eyil.”’

‘“‘T believe it,’’ said he.

“‘T am sure of it, Wilfrid. Our intuition is just what makes us so perfect. What you men have to learn, we feek”’

‘“Why, then, do you not feel how much I love you?”

‘*Because you do not love me.”’

‘Great God!’’

‘‘Why, then, do you complain of anguish?”’

p. 85

“You are terrible this evening, Seraphita. You are a perfect demon!”’

“‘No; but I have the gift of understanding, and that 1s terrifying. Suffering, Wilfrid, is a light thrown on life.’

‘“Why did you go up the Falberg?”’

‘Minna will tell you; I am too tired to speak. You must talk, you who know everything, who have learned everything and forgotten nothing, and have gone through so many social experiences. Amuse me; I am listening.”

‘‘What can I tell you that you do not know! Indeed, your request isa mockery. You recognize nothing that is worldly, you analyze its terminology, you demolish its laws, its manners, feelings, sciences, by reducing them to the proportions they assume when we take our stand outside the globe.”’

‘‘You see, my friend, I am not a woman. You are wrong to love me. What! I quit the ethereal regions of strength you attribute to me; I make myself humble and ins. znificant to stoop after the manner of the poor female of every species—and you at once uplift me! Then, when Iam crushed and broken, I crave your help; I want your arm, and you repulse me! We do not understand each other.”

‘‘You are more malignant this evening than I have ever known you.”’

‘Malignant ?’’ said she, with a flashing look that melted every sentiment into one heavenly emotion. ‘‘No; I am weary, that is all. Then, leave me, my friend. Will not that be a due exercise of your rights as a man? We are always to charm you, to recreate you, always to be cheerful, and have no whims but those that amuse you.— What shall I do, my friend? Shall I sing, or dance, when fa36 BALZAC’S WORKS

tigue has deprived me of voice and of the use of my legs?
Yes, gentlemen, at our last gasp we still must smile on you!
That, I believe, you call your sovereignty !—Poor women!
I pity them. You abandon them when they are old; tell
me, have they then no longer heart or soul? Well, and
I am more than a hundred, Wilfrid. Go—go to kneel at
Minna’s feet.’’ ,

‘‘Oh, my one, eternal love

‘“‘Do you know what eternity is? Be silent, Wilfrid.—
You desire me, but you do not love me.—Tell me, now,

ie do not [ remind you of some coquette you have met?”

“T certainly do not see you now as the pure and heavenly maiden I saw for the first time in the church at Jarvis.”

As he spoke Seraphita passed her hands over her brow, and when she uncovered her face Wilfrid was astonished at the religious and saintly expression it wore.

‘‘You are right, my friend. I am always wrong to set foot on your. earth.”’

‘Yes, beloved Seraphita, be my star.—Never descend from the place whence you shed such glorious light on me.”’

He put out his hand to take the girl’s, but she withdrew it, though without disdain or anger. Wilfrid hastily rose and went to stand by the window, turning toward it so that Seraphita should not see a few tears that filled his eyes.