6 The verse Fables of Jean de La Fontaine (1621–95) have, since their publication, been a staple of the French education system, schoolchildren committing them to memory and reciting them (see note for p. 136, ll. 34–35). Master Jean Chouart is a character in one of the fables, notable for its anticlericalism. La Fontaine's Contes (Tales) tended toward ribaldry.
The Red and the Black
Monsieur de Rênal ever thought of telling his guests the price of every bottle of wine he offers them? And this Monsieur Valenod, who keeps explaining what he owns, and never stops— why, when his wife is there he can't say anything about his house, his estate, etc., without saying your house, your estate. "And this same lady, who seems so aware of the pleasures of ownership, just made a disgusting scene, as we were dining, with a servant who'd broken a stemware glass and spoiled one of her dozens. And the servant had replied with infinite insolence. "What a bunch!" Julien told himself. "If they gave me half of everything they own, I couldn't live with them. Some fine day, I'll give myself away—I won't be able to hold back the contemptuous remarks they inspire in me." All the same, pursuant to Madame de Rênal's orders he had to attend a number of very similar occasions. Julien was fashionable: his guard of honor uniform was forgiven—or perhaps that recklessness was the real reason for his success. Soon, nothing was more at issue, in Verrières, than the struggle to obtain this young scholar's services: Who would win, Monsieur de Rênal or Monsieur Valenod? These two gentlemen, together with Father Maslon, had for years formed a triumvirate that ruled the town with an iron hand. People were jealous of the mayor; he gave the liberals much cause for complaint. But he was, after all, a nobleman and destined to be superior, while Monsieur Valenod's father hadn't left him so much as ten thousand francs a year. He had to ascend, starting from the pity people felt for him as a youngster, on account of the ugly green apple clothes he'd always worn, to now, when he was envied for his Normand steeds, for his thick gold chains, for his Parisian-fashioned clothing, and for the whole of his current prosperity. In all this world so new to Julien, he thought he'd come upon an honest man. He was a mathematician named Gros,7 with a reputation as a Jacobin. Julien, having pledged himself to say nothing except what was contradictory to his true beliefs, found it necessary to hold back a bit, in dealing with Monsieur Gros. Great packages of his pupils' writing came to him from Vergy. He had been advised to visit his father, as often as possible, and though it was a sorry necessity, he obeyed. In short, he did a fine job of repairing his reputation, until one morning he was surprised to find himself being awakened by a pair of hands placed over his eyes. It was Madame de Rênal, who had come into town and, climbing the stairs four at a time, leaving her children busy with a pet rabbit they'd taken on their trip, had reached Julien's room moments before they could. It was a delightful moment, but very short: Madame de Rênal had vanished by the time the children came, bringing their rabbit, which they wanted their friend to see. Julien gave them all a hearty welcome, including the rabbit. He felt as if he'd found his family once again; he felt full of love for the children, and happy to chatter with them. He was astonished by the sweetness of their voices, the simplicity and generosity of their little ways: he had to wash his mind clean of all the vulgar acts, the unpleasant thoughts, in the midst of which he lived and breathed, in Verrières. There was always the fear of having to do without, there were always luxury and misery at each other's throats. In the houses where he dined on their roast beef, everyone told secrets humiliating to themselves and nauseating to those obliged to listen. "You're different, you're generous, you're right to be proud," he told Madame de Rênal. He recounted all the events at places where he'd dined.