chronic ill-temper. Let us hasten to say that in private the genial
side descended to the level of the other, so that generally the
indulgent man disappeared to give place to the brutal husband and
domineering father. "Why the devil does that foolish girl, who
pretends to wish to speak to me, not come into my study? and why on
earth does she want to speak to me at all?"
He was turning this thought over in his brain for the twentieth
time, when the door opened and Eugenie appeared, attired in a
figured black satin dress, her hair dressed and gloves on, as if
she were going to the Italian Opera. "Well, Eugenie, what is it you
want with me? and why in this solemn drawing-room when the study is
so comfortable?"
"I quite understand why you ask, sir," said Eugenie, making a
sign that her father might be seated, "and in fact your two
questions suggest fully the theme of our conversation. I will
answer them both, and contrary to the usual method, the last first,
because it is the least difficult. I have chosen the drawing-room,
sir, as our place of meeting, in order to avoid the disagreeable
impressions and influences of a banker's study. Those gilded
cashbooks, drawers locked like gates of fortresses, heaps of
bank-bills, come from I know not where, and the quantities of
letters from England, Holland, Spain, India, China, and Peru, have
generally a strange influence on a father's mind, and make him
forget that there is in the world an interest greater and more
sacred than the good opinion of his correspondents. I have,
therefore, chosen this drawing-room, where you see, smiling and
happy in their magnificent frames, your portrait, mine, my
mother's, and all sorts of rural landscapes and touching pastorals.
I rely much on external impressions; perhaps, with regard to you,
they are immaterial, but I should be no artist if I had not some
fancies."
"Very well," replied M. Danglars, who had listened to all this
preamble with imperturbable coolness, but without understanding apreamble with imperturbable coolness, but without understanding a
word, since like every man burdened with thoughts of the past, he
was occupied with seeking the thread of his own ideas in those of
the speaker.
"There is, then, the second point cleared up, or nearly so,"
said Eugenie, without the least confusion, and with that masculine
pointedness which distinguished her gesture and her language; "and
you appear satisfied with the explanation. Now, let us return to
the first. You ask me why I have requested this interview; I will
tell you in two words, sir; I will not marry count Andrea
Cavalcanti."
Danglars leaped from his chair and raised his eyes and arms
towards heaven.
"Yes, indeed, sir," continued Eugenie, still quite calm; "you
are astonished, I see; for since this little affair began, I have
not manifested the slightest opposition, and yet I am always sure,
when the opportunity arrives, to oppose a determined and absolute
will to people who have not consulted me, and things which
displease me. However, this time, my tranquillity, or passiveness
as philosophers say, proceeded from another source; it proceeded
from a wish, like a submissive and devoted daughter" (a slight
smile was observable on the purple lips of the young girl), "to
practice obedience."
"Well?" asked Danglars.
"Well, sir," replied Eugenie, "I have tried to the very last and
now that the moment has come, I feel in spite of all my efforts
that it is impossible."
"But," said Danglars, whose weak mind was at first quite
overwhelmed with the weight of this pitiless logic, marking evident
premeditation and force of will, "what is your reason for this
refusal, Eugenie? what reason do you assign?"
"My reason?" replied the young girl. "Well, it is not that the
man is more ugly, more foolish, or more disagreeable than any
other; no, M. Andrea Cavalcanti may appear to those who look at
men's faces and figures as a very good specimen of his kind. It is
not, either, that my heart is less touched by him than any other;not, either, that my heart is less touched by him than any other;
that would be a schoolgirl's reason, which I consider quite beneath
me. I actually love no one, sir; you know it, do you not? I do not
then see why, without real necessity, I should encumber my life
with a perpetual companion. Has not some sage said, `Nothing too
much'? and another, `I carry all my effects with me'? I have been
taught these two aphorisms in Latin and in Greek; one is, I
believe, from Phaedrus, and the other from Bias. Well, my dear
father, in the shipwreck of life — for life is an eternal shipwreck
of our hopes — I cast into the sea my useless encumbrance, that is
all, and I remain with my own will, disposed to live perfectly
alone, and consequently perfectly free."
"Unhappy girl, unhappy girl!" murmured Danglars, turning pale,
for he knew from long experience the solidity of the obstacle he
had so suddenly encountered.
"Unhappy girl," replied Eugenie, "unhappy girl, do you say, sir?
No, indeed; the exclamation appears quite theatrical and affected.
Happy, on the contrary, for what am I in want of! The world calls
me beautiful. It is something to be well received. I like a
favorable reception; it expands the countenance, and those around
me do not then appear so ugly. I possess a share of wit, and a
certain relative sensibility, which enables me to draw from life in
general, for the support of mine, all I meet with that is good,
like the monkey who cracks the nut to get at its contents. I am
rich, for you have one of the first fortunes in France. I am your
only daughter, and you are not so exacting as the fathers of the
Porte Saint-Martin and Gaiete, who disinherit their daughters for
not giving them grandchildren. Besides, the provident law has
deprived you of the power to disinherit me, at least entirely, as
it has also of the power to compel me to marry Monsieur This or
Monsieur That. And so — being, beautiful, witty, somewhat talented,
as the comic operas say, and rich — and that is happiness, sir —