The Red and the Black: A Chronicle of 1830Stendhal
General
The Red and the Black: A Chronicle of 1830
Stendhal
Ambition -- Fiction; Bildungsromans; Church and state -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Young men -- France -- Fiction
"Take care not to look askance at that gentleman. He is my
brother-in-law."
"What does it matter? He looked at me."
"Do you want to make me unhappy? No doubt he looked at you, why it may
be he is going to speak to you. I told him that you were a relative of
my mother, and that you had arrived from Genlis. He is a Franc-contois,
and has never gone beyond Dôleon the Burgundy Road, so say what you
like and fear nothing."
Julien was still hesitating. Her barmaid's imagination furnished her
with an abundance of lies, and she quickly added.
"No doubt he looked at you, but it was at a moment when he was asking
me who you were. He is a man who is boorish with everyone. He did not
mean to insult you."
Julien's eye followed the pretended brother-in-law. He saw him buy a
ticket for the pool, which they were playing at the further of the
two billiard tables. Julien heard his loud voice shouting out in a
threatening tone, "My turn to play."
He passed sharply before Madame Amanda, and took a step towards the
billiard table. Amanda seized him by the arm.
"Come and pay me first," she said to him.
"That is right," thought Julien. "She is frightened that I shall leave
without paying." Amanda was as agitated as he was, and very red. She
gave him the change as slowly as she could, while she repeated to him,
in a low voice,
"Leave the café this instant, or I shall love you no more, and yet I do
love you very much."
Julien did go out, but slowly. "Am I not in duty bound," he repeated
to himself, "to go and stare at that coarse person in my turn?" This
uncertainty kept him on the boulevard in the front of the café for an
hour; he kept looking if his man was coming out. He did not come out,
and Julien went away.
He had only been at Besançon some hours, and already he had overcome
one pang of remorse. The old surgeon-major had formerly given him some
fencing lessons, in spite of his gout. That was all the science which
Julien could enlist in the service of his anger. But this embarrassment
would have been nothing if he had only known how to vent his temper
otherwise than by the giving of a blow, for if it had come to a matter
of fisticuffs, his enormous rival would have beaten him and then
cleared out.
"There is not much difference between a seminary and a prison," said
Julien to himself, "for a poor devil like me, without protectors and
without money. I must leave my civilian clothes in some inn, where I
can put my black suit on again. If I ever manage to get out of the
seminary for a few hours, I shall be able to see Mdlle. Amanda again in
my lay clothes." This reasoning was all very fine. Though Julien passed
in front of all the inns, he did not dare to enter a single one.
Finally, as he was passing again before the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs, his
anxious eyes encountered those of a big woman, still fairly young, with
a high colour, and a gay and happy air. He approached her and told his
story.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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