Читать книгу Leone Leoni - George Sand - Страница 8

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During the few days immediately preceding this, I had had the revelation of a hitherto unknown pride. I felt it awake within me now, and, impelled by an irresistible impulse, I determined to watch Leoni's manner as he talked with my father in his counting-room. He was slow about coming upstairs, and I rightly inferred that my father had detained him, to show him, as was his ingenuous custom, the marvels of his workmanship. I went resolutely down to the shop and entered, feigning surprise to find Leoni there. My mother had always forbidden me to enter the shop, her greatest fear being that I should be taken for a shopgirl. But I sometimes slipped away to go down and kiss my poor father, who had no greater joy than to receive me there. When I entered he uttered an exclamation of pleasure and said to Leoni: 'Look, look, monsieur le baron, what I have shown you amounts to nothing; here is my loveliest diamond.' Leoni's face betrayed the keenest delight; he smiled at my father with emotion and at me with passion. Never had such a glance met mine. I became red as fire. An unfamiliar feeling of joy and passion brought a tear to the brink of my eyelid as my father kissed me on the forehead.

We stood a few seconds without speaking; then Leoni, taking up the conversation, found a way to say to my father everything that was most likely to flatter his self-esteem as an artist and tradesman. He seemed to take extreme pleasure in making him explain the process by which rough stones were transformed into precious gems, brilliant and transparent. He said some interesting things on that subject himself, and, addressing me, gave me some mineralogical information that was within my reach. I was confounded by the wit and grace with which he succeeded in exalting and ennobling our condition in our own eyes. He talked to us about products of the goldsmith's art which he had seen in his travels, and extolled especially the works of his compatriot Cellini, whom he placed beside Michael Angelo. In short, he ascribed so much merit to my father's profession and praised his talent so highly that I almost wondered whether I was the daughter of a hard-working mechanic or a genius.

My father accepted this last hypothesis, and, being charmed with the Venetian's manners, took him up to my mother. During this visit, Leoni displayed so much wit and intelligence, and talked upon every subject in such a superior way that I was fairly fascinated as I listened to him. I had never conceived the idea of such a man. Those who had been pointed out to me previously as the most attractive were so insignificant and vapid beside him that I thought I must be dreaming. I was too ignorant to appreciate all Leoni's knowledge and eloquence, but I understood him instinctively. I was dominated by his glance, enthralled by his tales, surprised and fascinated by every new resource that he developed.

It is certain that Leoni is a man endowed with extraordinary faculties. In a few days he succeeded in arousing a general infatuation throughout the city. He has all the talents, commands all the means of seduction. If he were present at a concert, after a little urging he would sing or play upon any instrument with a marked superiority over the professional musicians. If he consented to pass the evening in the privacy of some family circle, he would draw lovely pictures in the women's albums. In an instant he would produce a portrait full of expression, or a vigorous caricature; he improvised or declaimed in all languages; he knew all the character dances of Europe, and he danced them all with fascinating grace; he had seen, remembered, appreciated and understood everything; he read the whole world like a book that one carries in one's pocket. He acted admirably in tragedy or comedy; he organized companies of amateurs; he was himself leader of the orchestra, star performer, painter, decorator and scene-shifter. He was at the head of all the sports and all the parties. It could truly be said that pleasure walked in his footprints, and that, at his approach, everything changed its aspect and assumed a new face. He was listened to with enthusiasm and blindly obeyed; people believed in him as a prophet; and if he had promised to produce spring in midwinter, they would have deemed him capable of doing it. After he had been in Brussels a month, the character of the people had actually changed. Pleasure united all classes, soothed all the tender susceptibilities, brought all ranks to the same level. It was nothing but riding-parties, fireworks, theatricals, concerts and masquerades. Leoni was magnificent and generous; the workmen would have risen in revolt for him. He scattered favors about with lavish hand, and found money and time for everything. His caprices were soon adopted by everybody. All the women loved him, and the men were so subjugated by him that they did not think of being jealous of him.

How, amid such infatuation, could I remain insensible to the glory of being distinguished by the man who made fanatics of a whole province! Leoni overwhelmed us with attentions and surrounded us with respectful homage. My mother and I had become the leaders of society in the city. We walked by his side at all the entertainments; he assisted us to display the most insane splendor; he designed our dresses and invented our fancy costumes; for he understood everything and at need would have made our gowns and our turbans himself. By such means did he take possession of the affections of the whole family. My aunt was the most difficult conquest. She held out for a long while and distressed us by her discouraging remarks.—Leoni was a man of evil habits, she said, a frantic gambler, who won and lost the fortune of twenty families every evening; he would devour ours in a single night. But Leoni undertook to soften her, and succeeded by laying hold of her vanity, that lever which he worked so vigorously while seeming only to touch it lightly. Soon there were no obstacles left. My hand was promised him, with a dowry of half a million. My aunt suggested that we should have more certain information concerning the fortune and rank of this foreigner. Leoni smiled and promised to furnish his patents of nobility and his title deeds within three weeks. He treated the matter of the marriage contract very lightly, but it was drawn with the utmost liberality toward him and confidence in him. He seemed hardly to know what I was to bring him. Monsieur Delpech, and, upon the strength of his assurance, all Leoni's new friends, declared that he was four times richer than we were, and that his marriage to me was a love-match. I readily allowed myself to be persuaded. I had never been deceived, and I never thought of forgers and blacklegs except as in the rags of poverty and the livery of degradation.

A wave of painful emotion almost suffocated Juliette. She paused and looked at me with a dazed expression.

"Poor child!" I said, "God should have protected you."

"Oh!" she rejoined, contracting her ebon eyebrows, "I used two terrible words; may God forgive me! I have no hatred in my heart, and I do not accuse Leoni of being a villain; no, no, for I do not blush for having loved him. He is an unfortunate man whom we should pity. If you knew—— But I will tell you all."

"Go on with your story," I said to her; "Leoni is guilty enough; you have no intention of accusing him more than he deserves."

Juliette resumed her narrative.

It is a fact that he loved me, loved me for myself; the sequel proved that clearly enough. Do not shake your head, Bustamente. Leoni's is a powerful body, animated by a vast mind; all the virtues and all the vices, all the passions, holy and guilty alike, find a place in it at the same time. No one has ever chosen to judge him impartially; he was quite right in saying that I alone have known him and done him justice.

The language that he used to me was so novel to my ear that I was intoxicated by it. Perhaps my absolute ignorance up to that time of everything bordering on sentiment made that language seem more delicious and more extraordinary to me than it would have seemed to a more experienced girl. But I believe—and other women believed with me—that no man on earth ever felt and expressed love like Leoni. Superior to other men in evil and in good, he spoke another tongue, he had another expression, he had also another heart. I have heard an Italian woman say that a bouquet in Leoni's hand was more fragrant than in another man's, and it was so with everything. He gave lustre to the simplest things and rejuvenated the oldest. There was a prestige about him; I was neither able nor desirous to escape its influence. I began to love him with all my strength.

At this period I seemed to grow in my own eyes. Whether it was the work of God, of Leoni, or of love, a vigorous mind developed and took possession of my feeble body. Every day I felt a world of new thoughts come to life within me. A word from Leoni gave birth to more sentiments than all the frivolous talk I had heard all my life. He observed my progress and was elated and proud over it. He sought to hasten it and brought me books. My mother looked at the gilt covers, the vellum and the pictures. She hardly glanced at the titles of the works which were destined to play havoc with my head and my heart. They were beautiful and pure books, almost all stories of women written by women: Valérie, Eugène de Rothelin, Mademoiselle de Clermont, Delphine. These touching and impassioned narratives, these glimpses of what was to me an ideal world, elevated my mind, but they devoured it. I became romantic, the most deplorable character that a woman can have.