8 The medieval romance of Gabrielle de Vergy tells the story of a virtuous young peasant girl, beloved by a virtuous young peasant boy. The Duchess of Burgundy falls in love with Gabrielle's lover and, when he rejects her, accuses him, before her husband the duke, of having assaulted her. In despair, Gabrielle commits suicide, and her distraught lover stabs himself to death over her body.
The Red and the Black
Besançon, Monsieur Godart's9 handsomely illustrated volume, and Julien read her the fascinating accounts of these poor little beasts. With no compassion whatever, using pins, they stuck the trophies of their hunt onto a big cardboard box; this too had been set up by Julien. At last, there was something for Madame de Rênal and Julien to talk about: he was no longer exposed to the ghastly torture inflicted by moments of silence. Indeed, they talked to each other constantly, with profoundly keen pleasure, though always about completely innocent matters. This active life, busy and cheerful, pleased everyone except Miss Elisa, who found herself overloaded with work. "Not even in carnival season," she said, "when there's a ball at Verrières, has madame ever paid so much attention to her wardrobe. She changes her clothes two or three times a day." Since it is our intention to flatter no one, we will not deny that Madame de Rênal, who possessed superb skin, had her dresses made so that they left her arms, as well as her breasts, quite open to view. She had a fine figure, and this way of showing it off was wonderfully becoming. "You've never been so youthful, madame," her friends from Verrières told her when they dined at Vergy. (This is of course the way they talk, out in the countryside.) An unusual fact, which I know will seem quite incredible among us, is that Madame de Rênal paid so much attention to her wardrobe without the slightest conscious purpose. It pleased her and, without thinking of anything more, whenever she wasn't with the children and Julien, chasing butterflies, she was helping Elisa make her mistress's dresses. The only errands that took her to Verrières were the necessity of buying the new Mulhouse summer dresses, which were just ready. She brought to Vergy a young woman, a relation. Since her marriage, Madame de Rênal had gradually become quite close to Madame Derville, who in earlier days had been with her at Sacred Heart. Madame Derville used to laugh heartily at what she called her cousin's crazy ideas. "All by myself," she used to say, "I'd never have thought of such things." These unexpected notions, which in Paris would have been called flashes of wit, made Madame de Rênal feel embarrassed, when she was with her husband; but Madame Derville's presence gave her courage. She spoke her thoughts, at first, in a timid voice, but when the ladies were alone for any length of time, Madame de Rênal's spirits rose, and a long day to themselves went by like an instant, leaving the two friends wonderfully merry. When she came, this time, Madame Derville found her cousin much less merry but a great deal happier. For his part, ever since beginning their stay in the country Julien had lived like a genuine child, as happy chasing butterflies as were the children he taught. After living under so many constraints, with so much subtle maneuvering, being alone and away from other people's eyes and, instinctively, no longer afraid of Madame de Rênal, he gave himself up to the pleasures of existence, so very lively at his age, and there in the middle of the most beautiful mountains in the world. The moment Madame Derville came, Julien took her for his friend. He hastened to show her the view at the end of the new walkway, under the giant walnut trees, for in fact it was the equal, or even superior to, the most striking view to be seen in Switzerland and the Italian lakes. If you climb the steep ascent, starting only a few steps farther on, you'll soon get to great cliffs, bordered by a forest of oaks growing almost down to the river. It was at the heights of these almost perpendicular boulders that Julien, happy, free, and even more than happy and