The first fortnight was a little hard, I confess, now that I have
obtained a very necessary modification of my duties. You know how much
need I have of exercise, and how active I have been for the last six
years; but here, alas! I have no house to keep in order and to run over
from top to bottom a hundred times a day, no child to walk with and to
make play, not even a dog with which I can run, under the pretext of
amusing it. The Marchioness has a horror of animals; she goes out but
once or twice a week to ride up and down the avenue of the
Champs-Élysées. She calls that taking exercise. Infirm and unable to
go up stairs, except with the aid of a servant's arm,--a thing dreadful
enough to her, for she was once let fall in doing it,--she pays no
visits, though she passes her life in receiving them. All the activity,
all the vigor of her existence, is in her head, and much in her speech;
she talks remarkably well and she knows it; but she is not on that
account guilty of any weak vanity, and thinks less of making herself
heard than of venting the ideas and sentiments which agitate her.
She has, you see, an energetic nature and a singular earnestness in her
opinions of all things, even of those which seem to me of very little
account. She could never be quite happy; she has been seeking to be so
too long; and living with her incessantly is tiresome, in spite of the
attraction which she exercises. Her hands are perfectly idle;
nevertheless her sight is sharp and her fingers are still nimble, for
she plays tolerably upon the piano; but she eschews everything that
interferes with talking and no longer asks me to read or to play. She
says that she holds my talents in reserve for the country, where she
finds herself more alone and whither we are to go in two months. I look
forward to this change with real pleasure, as here the life of the body
is too much suppressed. And then the good Marchioness has the habit of
living in a temperature of Senegal, besides covering herself with
perfumes, and her apartment is filled with the most odorous of flowers;
they are very beautiful to see, but in the absence of air, it is not so
easy a thing to breathe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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