She did _re_make him, to a certain extent, for it was she who insisted
upon his becoming younger and smarter in appearance. He now trained his
chestnut locks over his Olympian brow, in careful but unromantic
fashion; his black eyes, with their blue depths, resumed their upward
glance, when they were not plunged in those of his mistress; his
complexion, which had been so pale, now gained colour, and soon, when
Auguste de Châtillon paints the poet's miniature for Juliette's
pleasure, he will be able to endow him with lips less eloquent than
caressing, without straying from the truth. "The dear little
fashionable," as his companion called him, compressed his sturdy figure
into a really handsome blue coat opening over a shot waistcoat. His
immaculate linen, and the scarlet ribbon of the order Charles X had
bestowed upon him in his youth, stood out in pleasant contrast to the
sombre hue of his coat. His tiny feet, and hands as delicate as
Juliette's own, completed this somewhat incongruous exterior.
And the two made expeditions together, wherever they knew of, or hoped
to find, moss and trees, and an attractive shelter. They went to
Montmartre and Montrouge, to Maison Blanche and St. James, to Bicêtre
and Meudon, Fontainebleau, Gisors, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Versailles.
Sometimes the poet pondered his work as he walked. Silence was then the
order of the day; so Juliette was silent. But more often they talked,
made plans for the future, babbled merry nonsense, and exchanged kisses.
Or else they discussed their past: Victor told of his studious childhood
spent poring over books, of his early works, laborious and chaste.
Juliette recalled her bare-footed school-girl pranks. Both gloried in
the radiant memories of their youth.
But in the midst of those halcyon days of simple pleasures, Fate began
to show herself unkind. First came the failure of _Marie Tudor_, then
Juliette's disappointment at the Comédie Française, and, in addition,
the persecution of her creditors and the consequent quarrels with Victor
Hugo, with their subsequent scenes of tender reconciliation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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