Read Online The Dedalus Book of French Horror: The 19th Century by Terry Hale - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry Hale
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falling in love with her should you ever clap eyes on her.’
‘A plague on all you bashful lovers!’
‘She would melt even your iron heart.’
‘You old bear! In what cemetery did you unearth such fair flesh? And how the devil did you win the favours of this walking marvel?’
‘As for her favours, I never boasted that I had won them. Some matters one should not lie about. And as for unearthing her, that was more by chance than good management. We live in the same house and I have known her ever since she was a little girl. She was always elegantly dressed and she used to curtsy graciously before me every time our paths crossed. How the very sight of her used to sadden me, for I was celibate and lonely then! How I envied her father, blessed with such a beautiful child; though there always seemed to me, then as now, something slightly ridiculous about fatherhood. The father – this was at the time of the Consulate – had some high ranking position which kept the family’s coffers well filled; until, that is, he got mixed up in some trumped up conspiracy or other. Anyway, one fine morning, the Emperor’s men came to arrest him and he’s been locked away like a political prisoner from that day to this, though there never was a trial. His Majesty the Emperor is good at harbouring a grudge. The family have been in straightened circumstances ever since. Apolline grew poorer and more beautiful every year until she finally reached the age at which coquetry and the taste for finery made her acutely aware that she had not much more than a few expensive rags to her name, though she never lost that imperial air of hers. How sad it is to see a beautiful girl ashamed to go abroad in daylight! Her entire wardrobe consisted of a torn cashmere and a pair of worn out shoes, and in these she was obliged to go and buy cheap vegetables at the local market. How my heart used to bleed for her! What could be more poignant or more galling?
‘Stop laughing, de l’Argentière! If you want to laugh, laugh at me, not at her! Have you no feelings whatsoever?’
‘What I find so amusing, Bertholin, is to hear such fine sentiments coming from your lips. I am unused to it. You, a confirmed bachelor and inveterate misogynist! Is there something wrong with you? It’s hardly a propitious moment to start playing the devoted lover. You’d better get used to the part of Father Cassandre, 7 you’ve missed the boat as Harlequin.’
‘Was that intended as an insult?’
‘Funnier and funnier! It must be love!’
‘Very well! Yes, I am in love! I have every reason to be in love and there’s no reason for me to feel ashamed of a love born of pity. I bless God …’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort!’
‘I bless God that I have never committed myself until now so that I may act as this poor orphan’s guardian.’
‘You have been reading too much Chateaubriand, is that it?’
‘I tell you, I have every intention of being the guardian angel of this abandoned child, whom need would otherwise drive to death or prostitution. She has absolutely no-one to turn to: her poor mother, undermined by years of privations, and weakened further still by her daughter’s sufferings, died three months ago. When Apolline’s cries informed me that her mother had passed away, I immediately went up to comfort her and offer her my protection. I arranged the funeral, and got the town hall to pay for the burial. This was the first time I had spoken to Apolline. I cannot describe to you the effect it had on me as I went into that bare room, when she kissed my hand and, with a voice choked with tears, thanked me for my help. I was beside myself. All I can remember was that I burst into tears as well. Overwhelmed, she knelt down by her mother’s rickety bed and prayed for God to restore her to life.
‘That hour took ten years off my life!
‘And our love grew out of this compassion.
‘I called on her a few days later. All the time we were talking, I
‘A plague on all you bashful lovers!’
‘She would melt even your iron heart.’
‘You old bear! In what cemetery did you unearth such fair flesh? And how the devil did you win the favours of this walking marvel?’
‘As for her favours, I never boasted that I had won them. Some matters one should not lie about. And as for unearthing her, that was more by chance than good management. We live in the same house and I have known her ever since she was a little girl. She was always elegantly dressed and she used to curtsy graciously before me every time our paths crossed. How the very sight of her used to sadden me, for I was celibate and lonely then! How I envied her father, blessed with such a beautiful child; though there always seemed to me, then as now, something slightly ridiculous about fatherhood. The father – this was at the time of the Consulate – had some high ranking position which kept the family’s coffers well filled; until, that is, he got mixed up in some trumped up conspiracy or other. Anyway, one fine morning, the Emperor’s men came to arrest him and he’s been locked away like a political prisoner from that day to this, though there never was a trial. His Majesty the Emperor is good at harbouring a grudge. The family have been in straightened circumstances ever since. Apolline grew poorer and more beautiful every year until she finally reached the age at which coquetry and the taste for finery made her acutely aware that she had not much more than a few expensive rags to her name, though she never lost that imperial air of hers. How sad it is to see a beautiful girl ashamed to go abroad in daylight! Her entire wardrobe consisted of a torn cashmere and a pair of worn out shoes, and in these she was obliged to go and buy cheap vegetables at the local market. How my heart used to bleed for her! What could be more poignant or more galling?
‘Stop laughing, de l’Argentière! If you want to laugh, laugh at me, not at her! Have you no feelings whatsoever?’
‘What I find so amusing, Bertholin, is to hear such fine sentiments coming from your lips. I am unused to it. You, a confirmed bachelor and inveterate misogynist! Is there something wrong with you? It’s hardly a propitious moment to start playing the devoted lover. You’d better get used to the part of Father Cassandre, 7 you’ve missed the boat as Harlequin.’
‘Was that intended as an insult?’
‘Funnier and funnier! It must be love!’
‘Very well! Yes, I am in love! I have every reason to be in love and there’s no reason for me to feel ashamed of a love born of pity. I bless God …’
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort!’
‘I bless God that I have never committed myself until now so that I may act as this poor orphan’s guardian.’
‘You have been reading too much Chateaubriand, is that it?’
‘I tell you, I have every intention of being the guardian angel of this abandoned child, whom need would otherwise drive to death or prostitution. She has absolutely no-one to turn to: her poor mother, undermined by years of privations, and weakened further still by her daughter’s sufferings, died three months ago. When Apolline’s cries informed me that her mother had passed away, I immediately went up to comfort her and offer her my protection. I arranged the funeral, and got the town hall to pay for the burial. This was the first time I had spoken to Apolline. I cannot describe to you the effect it had on me as I went into that bare room, when she kissed my hand and, with a voice choked with tears, thanked me for my help. I was beside myself. All I can remember was that I burst into tears as well. Overwhelmed, she knelt down by her mother’s rickety bed and prayed for God to restore her to life.
‘That hour took ten years off my life!
‘And our love grew out of this compassion.
‘I called on her a few days later. All the time we were talking, I
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