12 A reference to Maximilien de Robespierre (1758–94), the fanatically anti-aristocratic Jacobin politician who controlled France through the Terror until he was himself guillotined.
Chapter Nine: An Evening in the Country
"Save my life," Julien told Madame de Rênal. "You're the only one who can do it: you know your husband's valet detests me. I confess, madame, that I have a picture, a portrait; it's hidden in my mattress." At these words, Madame de Rênal too turned pale. "Right now, madame, you're the only one who could walk into my room. If you don't see it, investigate the corner of the mattress closest to the window; you'll find a black cardboard box, small and smooth." "And there's a picture inside!" said Madame de Rênal, barely able to stay on her feet. Her dejection was obvious, and Julien immediately made use of it. "I have a second favor to ask of you, madame. I beg you not to look at the picture: it's my secret." "It's a secret," Madame de Rênal repeated, her words barely audible. Still, no matter the well-born folk among whom she had been raised, people proud of their fortunes, their emotions roused only by money, love had already set a degree of generosity in her heart. Cruelly wounded as she was, Madame de Rênal asked Julien the necessary questions, speaking from pure devotion, and resolved to do for him exactly what he asked of her. "So," she said, as she began to move toward the house, "a small round box, black cardboard, very smooth." "Yes, madame," replied Julien with the stiff manner men often assume in times of danger. She climbed to the château's second floor, as pale as if she were walking to her death. To add to her misery, she felt she was on the point of becoming ill, but having to be of service to Julien gave her strength. "I've got to get that box," she said, walking still faster. She heard her husband say something to his valet: they were right in Julien's room. Luckily, they went through it, into the children's quarters. She lifted the mattress and thrust her hand through the straw with such violence that she scratched her fingers. She was usually enormously sensitive to minor pain of this sort. But she was not even aware of what she had done, because just then she felt the smooth surface of the cardboard box. She took it and quickly walked off. The moment she was no longer afraid of being surprised by her husband, the horror of this box made her very sure she was going to be ill. "Julien is in love, and I've got his beloved's picture!" Collapsing into a chair in the entryway, Madame de Rênal was seized by all the terrors of jealousy. However, her utter ignorance was of use to her at that moment, for astonishment balanced the scales against sorrow. Julien appeared, grabbed the box, not uttering a word of thanks, not saying anything, and ran into his room, where he made a fire and quickly burned the whole thing. He was pale, stupefied; he dramatized the dangers from which he had just escaped. "A portrait of Napoleon," he said to himself, shaking his head. "Found hidden in the rooms of someone who spouts such hatred for that usurper! Found by Monsieur de Rênal, such a monarchist, and already so angry at me! And to make matters worse, the white cardboard behind the portrait shows some lines written in my handwriting! And from which no one could possibly doubt my admiration! And every one of these ecstatic declarations dated! There's even one from yesterday. "My reputation completely destroyed, annihilated on the instant," he told himself, watching the box burn, "and my reputation is all I have, it's the only thing that can earn me a living...and yet, what a way of living, oh dear God!"
The Red and the Black
An hour later, his weariness, and the pity he felt for himself, led him to feelings of tenderness. He found Madame de Rênal and, taking her hand, kissed it with more sincerity than ever before. She blushed with happiness and, virtually instantaneously, repulsed him, angry with jealousy. Julien's pride, so recently wounded, turned him into a fool. All he could see in Madame de Rênal was a rich woman: he let her hand fall, disdainfully, and walked away. He went for a solitary, pensive walk in the garden; before too long, there was a bitter smile on his lips. "Here I am, walking as calmly as if I were a man whose time was all his own! I'm not taking care of the children! I'm risking Monsieur de Rênal's humiliating scorn—and he'd be right." He ran directly to the children's room. The caresses of the littlest one, to whom he was deeply attached, partially eased his burning grief. "This one doesn't despise me anymore," Julien thought. But soon he reproached himself for this easing of his sadness, treating it like yet another weakness. "These children caress me the way they caress the little hunting dog they got yesterday." Chapter Ten: A Large Heart and a Small Fortune But passion most dissembles, yet betrays, Even by its darkness; as the blackest sky Foretells the heaviest tempest... —Byron, Don Juan, Canto 1, Stanza 73 Monsieur de Rênal, after going through all the rooms in the house, came back to the children's room, together with the servants carrying the straw matting. His sudden entrance acted on Julien like the single drop of water that makes a vase overflow. Paler and darker-looking than usual, he sprang toward his employer. Monsieur de Rênal stopped and gave a quick glance at his servants. "Sir," Julien declared, "do you think that, with any other tutor, your children would have made progress equal to what they've enjoyed with me? If you answer no," said Julien, not giving Monsieur de Rênal a chance to speak, "how dare you reproach me for neglecting them?" Monsieur de Rênal, not having quite conquered his fear, decided that the peculiar tone the little peasant was taking stemmed from some better offer, which he had in his pocket, and he was about to resign. Julien's anger grew as he spoke: "I can live without you, sir," he went on. "I'm truly grieved to see you so upset," replied Monsieur de Rênal, stuttering a bit. The servants were ten paces away, busily arranging the beds. "That's not what I want to hear, sir," answered Julien, beside himself. "Think of the disgraceful words you spoke to me—and, mind you, in front of women!" Monsieur de Rênal understood only too well what Julien was asking of him, and a painful struggle tore at his soul. And then Julien, essentially crazed with anger, shouted: "I know where to go, sir, when I leave you." At these words, Monsieur de Rênal saw Julien established at Monsieur Valenod's house. "Ah well, sir," he said at last, with a sigh and the same demeanor as when he asked a surgeon not to make things more painful than strictly necessary, "you'll have what you want. Starting the day after tomorrow, which will be the first of the month, I'll give you fifty francs13 a month."