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Nor
again
is
it
love
which
is
the
dominant
principle
in
the
career
of
young
men
who
,
like
Julien
,
are
gifted
with
some
talent
;
they
attach
themselves
with
an
irresistible
grip
to
some
côterie
,
and
when
the
côterie
succeeds
all
the
good
things
of
society
are
rained
upon
them
.
Woe
to
the
studious
man
who
belongs
to
no
côterie
,
even
his
smallest
and
most
doubtful
successes
will
constitute
a
grievance
,
and
lofty
virtue
will
rob
him
and
triumph
.
Yes
,
monsieur
,
a
novel
is
a
mirror
which
goes
out
on
a
highway
.
Sometimes
it
reflects
the
azure
of
the
heavens
,
sometimes
the
mire
of
the
pools
of
mud
on
the
way
,
and
the
man
who
carries
this
mirror
in
his
knapsack
is
forsooth
to
be
accused
by
you
of
being
immoral
!
His
mirror
shows
the
mire
,
and
you
accuse
the
mirror
!
Rather
accuse
the
main
road
where
the
mud
is
,
or
rather
the
inspector
of
roads
who
allows
the
water
to
accumulate
and
the
mud
to
form
.
Now
that
it
is
quite
understood
that
Mathilde
’
s
character
is
impossible
in
our
own
age
,
which
is
as
discreet
as
it
is
virtuous
,
I
am
less
frightened
of
offence
by
continuing
the
history
of
the
follies
of
this
charming
girl
.
During
the
whole
of
the
following
day
she
looked
out
for
opportunities
of
convincing
herself
of
her
triumph
over
her
mad
passion
.
Her
great
aim
was
to
displease
Julien
in
everything
;
but
not
one
of
his
movements
escaped
her
.
Julien
was
too
unhappy
,
and
above
all
too
agitated
to
appreciate
so
complicated
a
stratagem
of
passion
.
Still
less
was
he
capable
of
seeing
how
favourable
it
really
was
to
him
.
He
was
duped
by
it
.
His
unhappiness
had
perhaps
never
been
so
extreme
.
His
actions
were
so
little
controlled
by
his
intellect
that
if
some
mournful
philosopher
had
said
to
him
,
"
Think
how
to
exploit
as
quickly
as
you
can
those
symptoms
which
promise
to
be
favourable
to
you
.
In
this
kind
of
head
-
love
which
is
seen
at
Paris
,
the
same
mood
cannot
last
more
than
two
days
,
"
he
would
not
have
understood
him
.
But
however
ecstatic
he
might
feel
,
Julien
was
a
man
of
honour
.
Discretion
was
his
first
duty
.
He
appreciated
it
.
Asking
advice
,
describing
his
agony
to
the
first
man
who
came
along
would
have
constituted
a
happiness
analogous
to
that
of
the
unhappy
man
who
,
when
traversing
a
burning
desert
receives
from
heaven
a
drop
of
icy
water
.
He
realised
the
danger
,
was
frightened
of
answering
an
indiscreet
question
by
a
torrent
of
tears
,
and
shut
himself
up
in
his
own
room
.
He
saw
Mathilde
walking
in
the
garden
for
a
long
time
.
When
she
at
last
left
it
,
he
went
down
there
and
approached
the
rose
bush
from
which
she
had
taken
a
flower
.
The
night
was
dark
and
he
could
abandon
himself
to
his
unhappiness
without
fear
of
being
seen
.
It
was
obvious
to
him
that
mademoiselle
de
la
Mole
loved
one
of
those
young
officers
with
whom
she
had
chatted
so
gaily
.
She
had
loved
him
,
but
she
had
realised
his
little
merit
,
"
and
as
a
matter
of
fact
I
had
very
little
,
"
Julien
said
to
himself
with
full
conviction
.
"
Taking
me
all
round
I
am
a
very
dull
,
vulgar
person
,
very
boring
to
others
and
quite
unbearable
to
myself
.
"
He
was
mortally
disgusted
with
all
his
good
qualities
,
and
with
all
the
things
which
he
had
once
loved
so
enthusiastically
;
and
it
was
when
his
imagination
was
in
this
distorted
condition
that
he
undertook
to
judge
life
by
means
of
its
aid
.
This
mistake
is
typical
of
a
superior
man
.
The
idea
of
suicide
presented
itself
to
him
several
times
;
the
idea
was
full
of
charm
,
and
like
a
delicious
rest
;
because
it
was
the
glass
of
iced
water
offered
to
the
wretch
dying
of
thirst
and
heat
in
the
desert
.
"
My
death
will
increase
the
contempt
she
has
for
me
,
"
he
exclaimed
.
"
What
a
memory
I
should
leave
her
.
"
