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〃I am afraid it will be difficult；〃 he began； 〃Madame de Chessel
expects us。〃
〃She has you every day；〃 replied the countess； 〃besides； we can send
her word。 Is she alone？〃
〃No； the Abbe de Quelus is there。〃
〃Well； then；〃 she said； rising to ring the bell； 〃you really must dine
with us。〃
This time Monsieur de Chessel thought her in earnest； and gave me a
congratulatory look。 As soon as I was sure of passing a whole evening
under that roof I seemed to have eternity before me。 For many
miserable beings to…morrow is a word without meaning； and I was of the
number who had no faith in it； when I was certain of a few hours of
happiness I made them contain a whole lifetime of delight。
Madame de Mortsauf talked about local affairs； the harvest； the
vintage； and other matters to which I was a total stranger。 This
usually argues either a want of breeding or great contempt for the
stranger present who is thus shut out from the conversation； but in
this case it was embarrassment。 Though at first I thought she treated
me as a child and I envied the man of thirty to whom she talked of
serious matters which I could not comprehend； I came； a few months
later； to understand how significant a woman's silence often is； and
how many thoughts a voluble conversation masks。 At first I attempted
to be at my ease and take part in it； then I perceived the advantages
of my situation and gave myself up to the charm of listening to Madame
de Mortsauf's voice。 The breath of her soul rose and fell among the
syllables as sound is divided by the notes of a flute； it died away to
the ear as it quickened the pulsation of the blood。 Her way of
uttering the terminations in 〃i〃 was like a bird's song； the 〃ch〃 as
she said it was a kiss； but the 〃t's〃 were an echo of her heart's
despotism。 She thus extended； without herself knowing that she did so；
the meaning of her words； leading the soul of the listener into
regions above this earth。 Many a time I have continued a discussion I
could easily have ended； many a time I have allowed myself to be
unjustly scolded that I might listen to those harmonies of the human
voice； that I might breathe the air of her soul as it left her lips；
and strain to my soul that spoken light as I would fain have strained
the speaker to my breast。 A swallow's song of joy it was when she was
gay！but when she spoke of her griefs； a swan's voice calling to its
mates！
Madame de Mortsauf's inattention to my presence enabled me to examine
her。 My eyes rejoiced as they glided over the sweet speaker； they
kissed her feet； they clasped her waist； they played with the ringlets
of her hair。 And yet I was a prey to terror； as all who； once in their
lives； have experienced the illimitable joys of a true passion will
understand。 I feared she would detect me if I let my eyes rest upon
the shoulder I had kissed； and the fear sharpened the temptation。 I
yielded； I looked； my eyes tore away the covering； I saw the mole
which lay where the pretty line between the shoulders started； and
which； ever since the ball； had sparkled in that twilight which seems
the region of the sleep of youths whose imagination is ardent and
whose life is chaste。
I can sketch for you the leading features which all eyes saw in Madame
de Mortsauf； but no drawing； however correct； no color； however warm；
can represent her to you。 Her face was of those that require the
unattainable artist； whose hand can paint the reflection of inward
fires and render that luminous vapor which defies science and is not
revealable by languagebut which a lover sees。 Her soft； fair hair
often caused her much suffering； no doubt through sudden rushes of
blood to the head。 Her brow； round and prominent like that of Joconda；
teemed with unuttered thoughts； restrained feelingsflowers drowning
in bitter waters。 The eyes； of a green tinge flecked with brown； were
always wan； but if her children were in question； or if some keen
condition of joy or suffering （rare in the lives of all resigned
women） seized her； those eyes sent forth a subtile gleam as if from
fires that were consuming her；the gleam that wrung the tears from
mine when she covered me with her contempt； and which sufficed to
lower the boldest eyelid。 A Grecian nose； designed it might be by
Phidias； and united by its double arch to lips that were gracefully
curved； spiritualized the face； which was oval with a skin of the
texture of a white camellia colored with soft rose…tints upon the
cheeks。 Her plumpness did not detract from the grace of her figure nor
from the rounded outlines which made her shape beautiful though well
developed。 You will understand the character of this perfection when I
say that where the dazzling treasures which had so fascinated me
joined the arm there was no crease or wrinkle。 No hollow disfigured
the base of her head； like those which make the necks of some women
resemble trunks of trees； her muscles were not harshly defined； and
everywhere the lines were rounded into curves as fugitive to the eye
as to the pencil。 A soft down faintly showed upon her cheeks and on
the outline of her throat； catching the light which made it silken。
Her little ears； perfect in shape； were； as she said herself； the ears
of a mother and a slave。 In after days； when our hearts were one； she
would say to me； 〃Here comes Monsieur de Mortsauf〃； and she was right；
though I； whose hearing is remarkably acute； could hear nothing。
Her arms were beautiful。 The curved fingers of the hand were long； and
the flesh projected at the side beyond the finger…nails； like those of
antique statues。 I should displease you； I know； if you were not
yourself an exception to my rule； when I say that flat waists should
have the preference over round ones。 The round waist is a sign of
strength； but women thus formed are imperious； self…willed； and more
voluptuous than tender。 On the other hand； women with flat waists are
devoted in soul； delicately perceptive； inclined to sadness； more
truly woman than the other class。 The flat waist is supple and
yielding； the round waist is inflexible and jealous。
You now know how she was made。 She had the foot of a well…bred woman；
the foot that walks little； is quickly tired； and delights the eye
when it peeps beneath the dress。 Though she was the mother of two
children； I have never met any woman so truly a young girl as she。 Her
whole air was one of simplicity； joined to a certain bashful
dreaminess which attracted others； just as a painter arrests our steps
before a figure into which his genius has conveyed a world of
sentiment。 If you recall the pure； wild fragrance of the heath we
gathered on our return from the Villa Diodati； the flower whose tints
of black and rose you praised so warmly； you can fancy how this woman
could be elegant though remote from the social world； natural in
expression； fastidious in all things which became part of herself；in
short； like the heath of mingled colors。 Her body had the freshness we
admire in the unfolding leaf； her spirit the clear conciseness of the
aboriginal mind； she was a child by feeling； grave through suffering；
the mistress of a household； yet a maiden too。 Therefore she charmed
artlessly and unconsciously； by her way of sitting down or rising； of
throwing in a word or keeping silence。 Though habitually collected；
watchful as the sentinel on whom the safety of others depends and who
looks for danger； there were moments when smiles would wreathe her
lips and betray the happy nature buried beneath the saddened bearing
that was the outcome of her life。 Her gift of attraction was
mysterious。 Instead of inspiring the gallant attentions which other
women seek； she made men dream； letting them see her virginal nature
of pure flame； her celestial visions； as we see the azure heavens
through rifts in the clouds。 This involuntary revelation of her being
made others thoughtful。 The rarity of her gestures； above all； the
rarity of her glancesfor； excepting her children； she seldom looked
at any onegave a strange solemnity to all she said and did when her
words or actions seemed to her to compromise her dignity。
On this particular morning Madame de Mortsauf w