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_ Since we have pronounced the word modesty, and since we conceal nothing,
we ought to say that once, nevertheless, in spite of his ecstasies,
"his Ursule" caused him very serious grief. It was on one of the
days when she persuaded M. Leblanc to leave the bench and stroll
along the walk. A brisk May breeze was blowing, which swayed
the crests of the plaintain-trees. The father and daughter,
arm in arm, had just passed Marius' bench. Marius had risen
to his feet behind them, and was following them with his eyes,
as was fitting in the desperate situation of his soul.
All at once, a gust of wind, more merry than the rest, and probably
charged with performing the affairs of Springtime, swept down from
the nursery, flung itself on the alley, enveloped the young girl
in a delicious shiver, worthy of Virgil's nymphs, and the fawns
of Theocritus, and lifted her dress, the robe more sacred than that
of Isis, almost to the height of her garter. A leg of exquisite
shape appeared. Marius saw it. He was exasperated and furious.
The young girl had hastily thrust down her dress, with a divinely troubled
motion, but he was none the less angry for all that. He was alone
in the alley, it is true. But there might have been some one there.
And what if there had been some one there! Can any one comprehend
such a thing? What she had just done is horrible!--Alas, the poor
child had done nothing; there had been but one culprit, the wind;
but Marius, in whom quivered the Bartholo who exists in Cherubin,
was determined to be vexed, and was jealous of his own shadow.
It is thus, in fact, that the harsh and capricious jealousy of
the flesh awakens in the human heart, and takes possession of it,
even without any right. Moreover, setting aside even that jealousy,
the sight of that charming leg had contained nothing agreeable for him;
the white stocking of the first woman he chanced to meet would have
afforded him more pleasure.
When "his Ursule," after having reached the end of the walk,
retraced her steps with M. Leblanc, and passed in front of the bench
on which Marius had seated himself once more, Marius darted a sullen
and ferocious glance at her. The young girl gave way to that slight
straightening up with a backward movement, accompanied by a raising
of the eyelids, which signifies: "Well, what is the matter?"
This was "their first quarrel."
Marius had hardly made this scene at her with his eyes,
when some one crossed the walk. It was a veteran, very much bent,
extremely wrinkled, and pale, in a uniform of the Louis XV.
pattern, bearing on his breast the little oval plaque of red cloth,
with the crossed swords, the soldier's cross of Saint-Louis,
and adorned, in addition, with a coat-sleeve, which had no arm
within it, with a silver chin and a wooden leg. Marius thought
he perceived that this man had an extremely well satisfied air.
It even struck him that the aged cynic, as he hobbled along
past him, addressed to him a very fraternal and very merry wink,
as though some chance had created an understanding between them,
and as though they had shared some piece of good luck together.
What did that relic of Mars mean by being so contented? What had
passed between that wooden leg and the other? Marius reached a
paroxysm of jealousy.--"Perhaps he was there!" he said to himself;
"perhaps he saw!"--And he felt a desire to exterminate the veteran.
With the aid of time, all points grow dull. Marius' wrath against
"Ursule," just and legitimate as it was, passed off. He finally
pardoned her; but this cost him a great effort; he sulked for three days.
Nevertheless, in spite of all this, and because of all this,
his passion augmented and grew to madness. _
Read next: VOLUME III: BOOK SIXTH - THE CONJUNCTION OF TWO STARS: CHAPTER IX. Eclipse
Read previous: VOLUME III: BOOK SIXTH - THE CONJUNCTION OF TWO STARS: CHAPTER VII. Adventures of the Letter U delivered over to Conjectures
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