Camille - Chapter 15

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter fifteen of Gamille. This isliberyvox recording. All liberyvox recordings are in
the public domain. For more informationor to volunteer, please visit liberyvox dot
org. Recording by Sophia Troy Gamilby Alexander dumah Feiss, translated by Edmund

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Goss. Chapter fifteen. It washardly an hour after Joseph and I had
begun preparing for my departure when therewas a violent ring at the door.
Shall I go to the door,said Joseph. Go I said, asking
myself who it could be at suchan hour, and not daring to believe

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that it was Marguerite. Sir,said Joseph, coming back to me,
It is two ladies, It iswe Arman, cried the voice that I
recognized as that of Prudence. Icame out of my room. Prudence was
standing looking around the place. Marguerite, seated on the sofa, was meditating.

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I went to her and knelt down, took her two hands, and
deeply moved said to her, pardon. She kissed me on the forehead and
said, this is the third timethat I have forgiven you. I should
be gone away tomorrow. How canmy visit change your plans. I have
not come to hinder you from leavingParis. I have come because I had

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no time to answer you during theday, and I did not wish to
let you think that I was angrywith you. Prudence didn't want me to
come. She said that I mightbe in the way. You in the
way, Marguerite, But how wellyou might have had a woman here,
said Prudence, and it would hardlyhave been amusing for her to see two

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more arrive. During this remark,Marguerite looked at me attentively. My dear
Prudence, I answered, you donot know what you are saying. What
a nice place you've got, Prudencewent on, May we see the bedroom?
Yes? Prudence went into the bedroom, not so much to see as

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to make up for the foolish thingwhich she had just said, but to
leave Marguerite and me alone. Whydid you bring Prudence, I asked her,
because she was at the theater withme, and because when I leave
here I want to have someone tosee me home. Could not I do?
Yes? But besides not wishing toput you out, I was sure

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that if you came as far asmy door, you would want to come
up and as I could not letyou, I did not wish to let
you go away, blaming me forsaying no. And why could you not
let me come up? Because Iam watched and the least suspicion might to
me the greatest harm. Is that? Really the only reason if there were

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any other I would tell you,for we are not to have any secret
from one another. Now, come, Marguerite, I am not going to
take a roundabout way of saying whatI really want to say. Honestly,
do you care for me a littlea great deal? Then why did you
deceive me? My friend? IfI were the Duchess so and so,

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if I had two hundred thousand francsa year, and if I were your
mistress and had another lover, youwould have the right to ask me.
But I am Mademoiselle Marguerite Goodier.I am forty thousand francs in debt,
I have not a penny of myown, and I spend one hundred thousand
francs a year. Your question becomesunnecessary and my answer useless. You are

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right, I said, letting myhead sink on her knees. But I
love you madly well, my friend, you must either love me a little
less or understand me a little better. Your letter gave me a great deal
of pain. If I had beenfree, first of all, I would
not have seen the counts the daybefore yesterday, or if I had,

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I should have come and asked yourforgiveness, as you asked me now and
in future. I should have noother lover but you. I fancied for
a moment that I might give myselfthat happiness. For six months you would
not have it. You insisted onknowing the means well, good Heavens,
the means were easy enough to guess. In employing them, I was making

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a greater sacrifice for you than youimagine. I might have said to you,
I wanted twenty thousand francs. Youwere in love with me, and
you would have found them at therisk of reproaching me for it. Later
on, I preferred to owe younothing. You did not understand the scruple
for such. It was those ofus who are like me, when we

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have any heart at all, wegive a meaning and development to words and
things unknown to other women. Irepeat then that on the parts of Marguerite
Gertier, the means which she usedto pay her debts without asking you for
money necessary for it was a scrupleby which you owe to profit without saying

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anything. If you had only metme to day, you would be too
delighted with what I promised you,and you would not question me as to
what I did the day before yesterday. We are sometimes obliged to by the
satisfaction of our souls at the expensesof our bodies, and we suffer still
more when afterwards that satisfaction is deniedus. I listened, and I gazed

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at Marguerite with admiration. When Ithought that this marvelous creature whose feet I
had once longed to kiss, waswilling to let me take my place in
her thoughts, my part in herlife, and that I was not yet
content with what she gave me.I asked if man's desire had indeed limits,
when satisfied as promptly as mine hadbeen, it reached after something further

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true, She continued, We poorcreatures of chance have fantastic desire and inconceivable
loves. We give ourselves for onething, now for another. There are
men who ruined themselves without obtaining theleast thing from us. There are others
who obtain us a bouquet of flowers. Our hearts have their caprices. It

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is there one destruction and their oneexcuse. I gave myself to you sooner
than I ever did to any man. I swear to you, and you
know why, because when you sawme spitting blood, you took my hand,
because you wept, Because you arethe only human being who has ever
pitied me. I am going tosee a mad thing to you. I

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once said a little dog who lookedat me with a sad look when I
coughed. That is the only creatureI ever loved. When he died,
I cried more than when my motherdied. It is true that for twelve
years of our life she used tobeat me. Well. I love you
all at once as much as mydog. If men knew what they can't
have for a tear, they wouldbe better loved, and we should be

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less ruliness to them. Your letterundeceived me. It showed me that you
lacked the intelligence of the heart.It did you more harm with me than
anything you could possibly have done.It was jealousy, certainly, but ironical
and impertinent jealousy. I was alreadyfeeling sad when I received your letter.

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I was looking forward to seeing youat twelve, to having lunch with you,
and wiping out by seeing you,a thought which was with me incessantly,
and which before I knew you,I had no difficulty in tolerating.
Then continued, Marguerite, you werethe only person before whom it seemed to
me from the first that I couldthink and speak freely. All those who

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come about women like me, havean interest in calculating their slightest words,
in thinking of the sick consequence oftheir most insignificant actions. Naturally, we
have no friends. We have selfishlovers who spend their fortunes riot on us,
as they say, but their ownvanity. For these people, we
have to be merry when they aremerry, will when they want to sub

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septics like themselves. We are notallowed to have hearts under penalty of being
hooted down and of ruining our credit. We no longer belong to ourselves.
We are no longer beings but things. We stand first in their self esteem,
last in their esteem. We havewomen who call themselves our friends,

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but they are friends like Prudence,women who were once kept and who have
still the costly taste that their agedoes not allow them to gratify. Then
they become our friends, or ratherour guests at table. Their friendship is
carried to the point of servility,never to that of disinterestedness. Never do
they give you advice which is notlucrative. It means little enough to them

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that we should have ten lovers extraas long as they get dresses or a
bracelet out of them, and thatthey can drive in our carriage from time
to time, or come to ourbox at the theater. They have our
last night's bouquets, and they borrowour shawls. They never render us service,
however slight, without seeing that theyare paid twice its value. You

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yourself saw when Prudence bought me thesix thousand francs that I had asked her
to get from the Duke, howshe borrowed five hundred francs, which she
never paid me back, or whichshe will pay me in hats which will
never be taken out of their boxes. We cannot then have, or rather

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I cannot have more than one possiblekind of happiness. And this is said
as I sometimes am suffering, whenI always am to find a man superior
enough not to ask questions about mylife, and to be the lover my
impressions rather than of my body.Such a man I found in the Duke.
But the Duke is old, andthe old age neither protects nor consoles.

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I thought I could accept the lifewhich he offered me, But what
would you have? I was dyingof angui, and if one is bound
to be consumed, it is wellas to throw oneself into the flames,
as to be as fixated with charcoal. Then I met you, young Ardent,
happy, and I tried to makeyou the man I had longed for

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in my noisy solitude. What Iloved in you was not the man who
was, but the man who wasgoing to be. You do not accept
the position you rejected as unworthy ofyou. You are an ordinary lover.
Do like the others, pay meand say no more about it. Marguerite,

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tired out with this long confession,threw herself back on the sofa,
and, to stifle a slight cough, put up her handkerchief to her lips,
and from that to our eyes,Pardon, pardon, I murmured.
I understood it all, but Iwanted to have it from your own lips,
my beloved Marguerite, forget the rest, and remember only one thing,

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that we belong to one another,that we are young, and that we
love. Marguerite, do with meas you will. I am your slave,
your dog. But in the nameof Heaven, tear up the letter
which I wrote to you, anddo not make me leave you to morrow.
It would kill me. Marguerite drewthe letter from her bosom, and,

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handing it to me, with asmile of infinite sweetness, said,
here it is. I have broughtit back. I tore the letter into
fragments and kissed with tears the handthat gave it to me. At this
moment, Prudence reappeared. Look here, Prudence, do you know what he
wants, said Marguerite. He wantsyou to forgive him precisely, and you

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do. One has to. Buthe wants more than that. What then?
He wants to have supper with us? And do you consent? What
do you think? I think thatyou are two children who haven't an atom
of sense between you. But Ialso think that I am very hungry,

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and that the sooner you consent,the sooner we shall have supper. Come,
said Marguerite. There is room forthe three of us in my carriage
by the way, she added,turning to me, Nanin will be gone
to bed. You must open thedoor, take my key, and try
not to lose it again. Iembraced Marguerite until she was almost stifled.

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Thereupon Joseph entered. Sir, hesaid, with an air of a man
who is very well satisfied with himself. The luggage spated, all of it,
yes, sir, well, thenunpack it again. I am not
going. End of Chapter fifteen,recording by Sophia Choi