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Mathilde
had
not
written
without
a
struggle
.
Whatever
might
have
been
the
beginning
of
her
interest
in
Julien
,
it
soon
dominated
that
pride
which
had
reigned
unchallenged
in
her
heart
since
she
had
begun
to
know
herself
.
This
cold
and
haughty
soul
was
swept
away
for
the
first
time
by
a
sentiment
of
passion
,
but
if
this
passion
dominated
her
pride
,
it
still
kept
faithfully
to
the
habits
of
that
pride
.
Two
months
of
struggles
and
new
sensations
had
transformed
,
so
to
speak
her
whole
moral
life
.
Mathilde
thought
she
was
in
sight
of
happiness
.
This
vista
,
irresistible
as
it
is
for
those
who
combine
a
superior
intellect
with
a
courageous
soul
,
had
to
struggle
for
a
long
time
against
her
self
respect
and
all
her
vulgar
duties
.
One
day
she
went
into
her
mother
’
s
room
at
seven
o
’
clock
in
the
morning
and
asked
permission
to
take
refuge
in
Villequier
.
The
marquise
did
not
even
deign
to
answer
her
,
and
advised
her
to
go
back
to
bed
.
This
was
the
last
effort
of
vulgar
prudence
and
respect
for
tradition
.
The
fear
of
doing
wrong
and
of
offending
those
ideas
which
the
Caylus
’
s
,
the
de
Luz
’
s
,
the
Croisenois
’
held
for
sacred
had
little
power
over
her
soul
.
She
considered
such
creatures
incapable
of
understanding
her
.
She
would
have
consulted
them
,
if
it
had
been
a
matter
of
buying
a
carriage
or
an
estate
.
Her
real
fear
was
that
Julien
was
displeased
with
her
.
"
Perhaps
he
,
too
,
has
only
the
appearance
of
a
superior
man
?
"
She
abhorred
lack
of
character
;
that
was
her
one
objection
to
the
handsome
young
men
who
surrounded
her
.
The
more
they
made
elegant
fun
of
everything
which
deviated
from
the
prevailing
mode
,
or
which
conformed
to
it
but
indifferently
,
the
lower
they
fell
in
her
eyes
.
They
were
brave
and
that
was
all
.
"
And
after
all
in
what
way
were
they
brave
?
"
she
said
to
herself
.
"
In
duels
,
but
the
duel
is
nothing
more
than
a
formality
.
The
whole
thing
is
mapped
out
beforehand
,
even
the
correct
thing
to
say
when
you
fall
.
Stretched
on
the
turf
,
and
with
your
hand
on
your
heart
,
you
must
vouchsafe
a
generous
forgiveness
to
the
adversary
,
and
a
few
words
for
a
fair
lady
,
who
is
often
imaginary
,
or
if
she
does
exist
,
will
go
to
a
ball
on
the
day
of
your
death
for
fear
of
arousing
suspicion
.
"
"
One
braves
danger
at
the
head
of
a
squadron
brilliant
with
steel
,
but
how
about
that
danger
which
is
solitary
,
strange
,
unforeseen
and
really
ugly
.
"
"
Alas
,
"
said
Mathilde
to
herself
,
"
it
was
at
the
court
of
Henri
III
.
that
men
who
were
great
both
by
character
and
by
birth
were
to
be
found
!
Yes
!
If
Julien
had
served
at
Jarnac
or
Moncontour
,
I
should
no
longer
doubt
.
In
those
days
of
strength
and
vigour
Frenchmen
were
not
dolls
.
The
day
of
the
battle
was
almost
the
one
which
presented
the
fewest
problems
.
"
Their
life
was
not
imprisoned
,
like
an
Egyptian
mummy
in
a
covering
which
was
common
to
all
,
and
always
the
same
.
"
Yes
,
"
she
added
,
"
there
was
more
real
courage
in
going
home
alone
at
eleven
o
’
clock
in
the
evening
when
one
came
out
of
the
Hôtel
de
Soissons
where
Catherine
de
’
Medici
lived
than
there
is
nowadays
in
running
over
to
Algiers
.
A
man
’
s
life
was
then
a
series
of
hazards
.
Nowadays
civilisation
has
banished
hazard
.
There
are
no
more
surprises
.
If
anything
new
appears
in
any
idea
there
are
not
sufficient
epigrams
to
immortalise
it
,
but
if
anything
new
appears
in
actual
life
,
our
panic
reaches
the
lowest
depth
of
cowardice
.
Whatever
folly
panic
makes
us
commit
is
excused
.
What
a
degenerate
and
boring
age
!
What
would
Boniface
de
la
Mole
have
said
if
,
lifting
his
cut
-
off
head
out
of
the
tomb
,
he
had
seen
seventeen
of
his
descendants
allow
themselves
to
be
caught
like
sheep
in
1793
in
order
to
be
guillotined
two
days
afterwards
!
Death
was
certain
,
but
it
would
have
been
bad
form
to
have
defended
themselves
and
to
have
killed
at
least
one
or
two
Jacobins
.
Yes
!
in
the
heroic
days
of
France
,
in
the
age
of
Boniface
de
la
Mole
,
Julien
would
have
been
the
chief
of
a
squadron
,
while
my
brother
would
have
been
the
young
priest
with
decorous
manners
,
with
wisdom
in
his
eyes
and
reason
on
his
lips
.
"
Some
months
previously
Mathilde
had
given
up
all
hope
of
meeting
any
being
who
was
a
little
different
from
the
common
pattern
.
She
had
found
some
happiness
in
allowing
herself
to
write
to
some
young
society
men
.
This
rash
procedure
,
which
was
so
unbecoming
and
so
imprudent
in
a
young
girl
,
might
have
disgraced
her
in
the
eyes
of
M
.
