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She
fled
to
her
room
,
shut
herself
up
in
it
,
and
with
much
application
made
strenuous
endeavours
to
draw
Julien
’
s
portrait
,
but
she
was
unable
to
succeed
;
the
profile
she
had
traced
at
random
still
remained
the
most
like
him
.
Mathilde
was
delighted
with
it
.
She
saw
in
it
a
palpable
proof
of
the
grand
passion
.
She
only
left
her
album
very
late
when
the
marquise
had
her
called
to
go
to
the
Italian
Opera
.
Her
one
idea
was
to
catch
sight
of
Julien
,
so
that
she
might
get
her
mother
to
request
him
to
keep
them
company
.
He
did
not
appear
,
and
the
ladies
had
only
ordinary
vulgar
creatures
in
their
box
.
During
the
first
act
of
the
opera
,
Mathilde
dreamt
of
the
man
she
loved
with
all
the
ecstasies
of
the
most
vivid
passion
;
but
a
love
-
maxim
in
the
second
act
sung
it
must
be
owned
to
a
melody
worthy
of
Cimarosa
pierced
her
heart
.
The
heroine
of
the
opera
said
"
You
must
punish
me
for
the
excessive
adoration
which
I
feel
for
him
.
I
love
him
too
much
.
"
From
the
moment
that
Mathilde
heard
this
sublime
song
everything
in
the
world
ceased
to
exist
.
She
was
spoken
to
,
she
did
not
answer
;
her
mother
reprimanded
her
,
she
could
scarcely
bring
herself
to
look
at
her
.
Her
ecstasy
reached
a
state
of
exultation
and
passion
analogous
to
the
most
violent
transports
which
Julien
had
felt
for
her
for
some
days
.
The
divinely
graceful
melody
to
which
the
maxim
,
which
seemed
to
have
such
a
striking
application
to
her
own
position
,
was
sung
,
engrossed
all
the
minutes
when
she
was
not
actually
thinking
of
Julien
.
Thanks
to
her
love
for
music
she
was
on
this
particular
evening
like
madame
de
Rênal
always
was
,
when
she
thought
of
Julien
.
Love
of
the
head
has
doubtless
more
intelligence
than
true
love
,
but
it
only
has
moments
of
enthusiasm
.
It
knows
itself
too
well
,
it
sits
in
judgment
on
itself
incessantly
;
far
from
distracting
thought
it
is
made
by
sheer
force
of
thought
.
On
returning
home
Mathilde
,
in
spite
of
madame
de
la
Mole
’
s
remonstrances
,
pretended
to
have
a
fever
and
spent
a
part
of
the
night
in
going
over
this
melody
on
her
piano
.
She
sang
the
words
of
the
celebrated
air
which
had
so
fascinated
her
:
—
Devo
punirmi
,
devo
punirmi
.
Se
troppo
amai
,
etc
.
As
the
result
of
this
night
of
madness
,
she
imagined
that
she
had
succeeded
in
triumphing
over
her
love
.
This
page
will
be
prejudicial
in
more
than
one
way
to
the
unfortunate
author
.
Frigid
souls
will
accuse
him
of
indecency
.
But
the
young
ladies
who
shine
in
the
Paris
salons
have
no
right
to
feel
insulted
at
the
supposition
that
one
of
their
number
might
be
liable
to
those
transports
of
madness
which
have
been
degrading
the
character
of
Mathilde
.
That
character
is
purely
imaginary
,
and
is
even
drawn
quite
differently
from
that
social
code
which
will
guarantee
so
distinguished
a
place
in
the
world
’
s
history
to
nineteenth
century
civilization
.
The
young
girls
who
have
adorned
this
winter
’
s
balls
are
certainly
not
lacking
in
prudence
.
I
do
not
think
either
that
they
can
be
accused
of
being
unduly
scornful
of
a
brilliant
fortune
,
horses
,
fine
estates
and
all
the
guarantees
of
a
pleasant
position
in
society
.
Far
from
finding
these
advantages
simply
equivalent
to
boredom
,
they
usually
concentrate
on
them
their
most
constant
desires
and
devote
to
them
such
passion
as
their
hearts
possess
.
