Clergy -- Fiction; France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
III. MARRIAGE
On the return of old Sauviat Graslin paid his first evening visit at
half-past nine o’clock. Veronique was expecting him, dressed in her blue
silk gown and muslin guimpe, over which fell a collaret made of lawn
with a deep hem. Her hair was simply worn in two smooth bandeaus,
gathered into a Grecian knot at the back of her head. She was seated on
a tapestried chair beside her mother, who occupied a fine armchair with
a carved back, covered with red velvet (evidently the relic of some old
chateau), which stood beside the fireplace. A bright fire blazed on the
hearth. On the chimney-piece, at either side of an antique clock, the
value of which was wholly unknown to the Sauviats, six wax candles in
two brass sconces twisted like vine-shoots, lighted the dark room and
Veronique in all her budding prime. The old mother was wearing her best
gown.
From the silent street, at that tranquil hour, through the soft shadows
of the ancient stairway, Graslin appeared to the modest, artless
Veronique, her mind still dwelling on the sweet ideas which Bernadin de
Saint-Pierre had given her of love.
Graslin, who was short and thin, had thick black hair like the bristles
of a brush, which brought into vigorous relief a face as red as that
of a drunkard emeritus, and covered with suppurating pimples, either
bleeding or about to burst. Without being caused by eczema or scrofula,
these signs of a blood overheated by continual toil, anxiety, and the
lust of business, by wakeful nights, poor food, and a sober life,
seemed to partake of both these diseases. In spite of the advice of his
partners, his clerks, and his physician, the banker would never compel
himself to take the healthful precautions which might have prevented, or
would at least modify, this malady, which was slight at first, but had
greatly increased from year to year. He wanted to cure it, and would
sometimes take baths or drink some prescribed potion; but, hurried
along on the current of his business, he soon neglected the care of his
person. Sometimes he thought of suspending work for a time, travelling
about, and visiting the noted baths for such diseases; but where is the
hunter after millions who is willing to stop short?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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