NOVELISTSshouldneverallowthemselvestowearyofthestudyofreallife.Iftheyobservedthisdutyconscientiously,theywouldgiveusfewerpictureschequeredwithvividcontrastsoflightandshadetheywouldseldomelevatetheirheroesandheroinestotheheightsofrapture—stillseldomersinkthemtothedepthsofdespairforifwerarelytastethefulnessofjoyinthislife,weyetmorerarelysavourtheacridbitternessofhopelessanguishunless,indeed,wehaveplungedlikebeastsintosensualindulgence,abused,strained,stimulated,againoverstrained,and,atlast,destroyedourfacultiesforenjoymentthen,truly,wemayfindourselveswithoutsupport,robbedofhope.Ouragonyisgreat,andhowcanitend?Wehavebrokenthespringofourpowerslifemustbeallsuffering—toofeebletoconceivefaith—deathmustbedarkness—God,spirits,religioncanhavenoplaceinourcollapsedminds,wherelingeronlyhideousandpollutingrecollectionsofviceandtimebringsusontothebrinkofthegrave,anddissolutionflingsusin—arageatenthroughandthroughwithdisease,wrungtogetherwithpain,stampedintothechurchyardsodbytheinexorableheelofdespair.
Butthemanofregularlifeandrationalmindneverdespairs.Heloseshisproperty—itisablow—hestaggersamomentthen,hisenergies,rousedbythesmart,areatworktoseekaremedyactivitysoonmitigatesregret.Sicknessaffectshimhetakespatience—endureswhathecannotcure.AcutepainrackshimhiswrithinglimbsknownotwheretofindrestheleansonHope’sanchors.Deathtakesfromhimwhathelovesrootsup,andtearsviolentlyawaythestemroundwhichhisaffectionsweretwined—adark,dismaltime,afrightfulwrench—butsomemorningReligionlooksintohisdesolatehousewithsunrise,andsays,thatinanotherworld,anotherlife,heshallmeethiskindredagain.Shespeaksofthatworldasaplaceunsulliedbysin—ofthatlife,asaneraunembitteredbysufferingshemightilystrengthensherconsolationbyconnectingwithittwoideas—whichmortalscannotcomprehend,butonwhichtheylovetorepose—Eternity,Immortalityandthemindofthemourner,beingfilledwithanimage,faintyetglorious,ofheavenlyhillsalllightandpeace—ofaspiritrestingthereinbliss—ofadaywhenhisspiritshallalsoalightthere,freeanddisembodied—ofareunionperfectedbylove,purifiedfromfear—hetakescourage—goesouttoencounterthenecessitiesanddischargethedutiesoflifeand,thoughsadnessmayneverliftherburdenfromhismind,Hopewillenablehimtosupportit.
Well—andwhatsuggestedallthis?andwhatistheinferencetobedrawntherefrom?Whatsuggestedit,isthecircumstanceofmybestpupil—mytreasure—beingsnatchedfrommyhands,andputawayoutofmyreachtheinferencetobedrawnfromitis—that,beingasteady,reasonableman,Ididnotallowtheresentment,disappointment,andgrief,engenderedinmymindbythisevilchance,togrowtheretoanymonstroussizenordidIallowthemtomonopolizethewholespaceofmyheartIpentthem,onthecontrary,inonestraitandsecretnook.Inthedaytime,too,whenIwasaboutmyduties,IputthemonthesilentsystemanditwasonlyafterIhadclosedthedoorofmychamberatnightthatIsomewhatrelaxedmyseveritytowardsthesemorosenurslings,andallowedventtotheirlanguageofmurmursthen,inrevenge,theysatonmypillow,hauntedmybed,andkeptmeawakewiththeirlong,midnightcry.
Aweekpassed.IhadsaidnothingmoretoMdlle.Reuter.Ihadbeencalminmydemeanourtoher,thoughstonycoldandhard.WhenIlookedather,itwaswiththeglancefittingtobebestowedononewhoIknewhadconsultedjealousyasanadviser,andemployedtreacheryasaninstrument—theglanceofquietdisdainandrooteddistrust.OnSaturdayevening,ereIleftthehouse,IsteptintotheSALLE-A-MANGER,whereshewassittingalone,and,placingmyselfbeforeher,Iasked,withthesametranquiltoneandmannerthatIshouldhaveusedhadIputthequestionforthefirsttime—
“Mademoiselle,willyouhavethegoodnesstogivemetheaddressofFrancesEvansHenri?”
Alittlesurprised,