4 What a name, indeed; the combination of the aristocratic “de” with the quintessentially bourgeois “Dubois”

"The moth burns itself on the candle," the prince went on, "a metaphor as old as the world. "So: first, you'll see her every day. "Second: you'll pursue some lady in high society, but not displaying any sign of passion— do you follow me? I won't conceal it from you: your role will be a difficult one. You'll be acting in a comedy, and if they guess you're only acting, you're done for." "She's so smart, and I'm not! I'm done for," said Julien, sorrowfully. "No, it's simply that you're more in love than I'd thought. Madame de Dubois is profoundly concerned with herself, like all the women blessed by heaven either with an excess of nobility, or an excess of money. She thinks about herself instead of thinking about you, and so she knows nothing about you. During the two or three small fits of love she's granted you, she made a huge imaginative effort to see in you the hero she's always dreamed of, not you as you actually are... "Good Lord, these are such utterly basic matters, my dear Sorel. Are you no more than a schoolboy?... "By God! Let's go in this shop. Look at that charming black tie. You'd think it was from John Anderson of Burlington Street. Make me happy: take it, and then throw just as far away as you can that horrible bit of black rope you've got around your neck. "Carry on," said the prince, as they left Strasbourg's very best shop for men's accessories. "Now, with whom does your Madame de Dubois associate? My Lord, what a name! Don't be annoyed at me, my dear Sorel: it's stronger than I am.. .. Just whom will you pursue?" "A magnificent prude," said Julien, "daughter of an immensely rich provincial merchant. She has the loveliest eyes in the world, which I find infinitely delightful; she surely is of the highest rank in France; but even with such social standing, she blushes almost to distraction if anyone tries to talk to her about business and shopkeeping. Her bad luck, but her father happened to be one of the best-known merchants in Strasbourg." "And so," said the prince, laughing, "if there's talk about business, you'll be sure this lovely creature is thinking about herself, and not you. This is divine and highly useful absurdity: it will keep you from even the tiniest flicker of insanity when you're looking into those lovely eyes. Victory will be yours." Julien had been thinking of Marshall Fervaques's widow, who often came to visit the de La Moles. She was a beautiful foreigner who'd been married to the marshall just a year before his death. Her only goal in life appeared to be erasing any awareness of herself as a businessman's daughter; to create a name for herself, in Paris, she'd become a leader of the virtue party. Julien sincerely admired the prince: what he wouldn't have given to possess the man's wit! The two friends chatted on, and Korasoff was delighted: no Frenchman had ever listened to him for so long. "So I've finally succeeding in being heard," he told himself, utterly enchanted, "by giving lessons to my teachers!" "We're agreed, then," he repeated to Julien for the tenth time. "Not a flicker of passion, when you're in Madame de Dubois's presence and talking to this young beauty, daughter of a stocking salesman in Strasbourg. On the other hand, let your passion absolutely burn when you write to her. Reading a well-written love letter is a prude's greatest delight; it's an interlude of relaxation. She's no longer acting in her comedy; she can allow herself to listen to her heart. Accordingly, two letters a day." "Never, never!" said Julien, discouraged. "I'd rather be pounded to death in a mortar than write three sentences. I'm a corpse, my dear friend: don't expect anything from me. Let me die out on the street."

"And why are you talking about writing sentences? I carry in my luggage six manuscripts of love letters. They're for all kinds of women; I've got plenty for the nobly virtuous sort. Didn't Kalisky pay court, at Richmond5—you know the place, it's not ten miles from London—and to the prettiest Quakeress in all of England?" By the time he left his friend, at ten in the morning, Julien felt less miserable. Next day, the prince summoned a copyist, and two days later Julien had fifty-three love letters, neatly numbered, constructed to appeal to the most sublime, the most dismal, of virtuous women. "I haven't got fifty-four," said the prince, "because Kalisky was turned down. But you won't be worrying about being misused by the stocking seller's daughter, since all you're after is Madame de Dubois's heart." They went riding every day; the prince was extraordinarily fond of Julien. Not knowing how to demonstrate his sudden friendship, he ended by offering Julien a cousin's hand, she being a rich heiress in Moscow. "And once you're married," he added, "my influence, and the medal you're wearing, will make you a colonel in less than two years." "But I didn't get this from Napoleon; that makes a difference." "Why?" said the prince. "He created that medal, didn't he? And it remains the highest decoration in all Europe." Julien was almost ready to accept the offer, but called to mind his duty to the great nobleman. When he left Korasoff, he promised to write. The response to his secret note arrived, and he hurried toward Paris. But barely two days later, the thought of leaving France, and Mathilde, seemed to him more painful than death itself. "I won't marry the millions Korasoff offered," he said to himself. "But I will take his advice. "After all, seduction's the Russian's profession. He hasn't thought about anything else since he was fifteen, and he's thirty by now. It can't be said he's stupid: he's subtle, he's crafty. You can't expect raptures, or poetry, from such a man. He's really a pimp—which is yet another reason he can't afford to be wrong. "It's got to be done. I'll pursue Madame de Fervaques. "She'll probably be something of a bore, but I'll keep looking into her really lovely eyes, which so closely resemble those I love best in the world. "She's a foreigner: that will be something new to consider. "I'm crazy, I'm drowning, I have no choice but to take my friend's advice and not expect to know what I'm doing, left to myself."