“‘If it were not that I feel all my noblest faculties as a man
satisfied, happy, expansive; if the part I am playing were not that of
divine fatherhood; if I did not drink in delight by every pore, there
are moments when I should believe that I was a monomaniac. Sometimes
at night I hear the jingling bells of madness. I dread the violent
transitions from a feeble hope, which sometimes shines and flashes up,
to complete despair, falling as low as man can fall. A few days since I
was seriously considering the horrible end of the story of Lovelace and
Clarissa Harlowe, and saying to myself, if Honorine were the mother of a
child of mine, must she not necessarily return under her husband’s roof?
“‘And I have such complete faith in a happy future, that ten months
ago I bought and paid for one of the handsomest houses in the Faubourg
Saint-Honore. If I win back Honorine, I will not allow her to see this
house again, nor the room from which she fled. I mean to place my idol
in a new temple, where she may feel that life is altogether new. That
house is being made a marvel of elegance and taste. I have been told
of a poet who, being almost mad with love for an actress, bought the
handsomest bed in Paris without knowing how the actress would reward his
passion. Well, one of the coldest of lawyers, a man who is supposed to
be the gravest adviser of the Crown, was stirred to the depths of
his heart by that anecdote. The orator of the Legislative Chamber can
understand the poet who fed his ideal on material possibilities. Three
days before the arrival of Maria Louisa, Napoleon flung himself on
his wedding bed at Compiegne. All stupendous passions have the same
impulses. I love as a poet--as an emperor!’
“As I heard the last words, I believed that Count Octave’s fears were
realized; he had risen, and was walking up and down, and gesticulating,
but he stopped as if shocked by the vehemence of his own words.
“‘I am very ridiculous,’ he added, after a long pause, looking at me, as
if craving a glance of pity.
“‘No, monsieur, you are very unhappy.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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