2 The year that Louis XIV took the Franche-Comté from Spain.
The Red and the Black
shapes the will. Approaching this very pretty girl, who'd taken the trouble to speak to him, Julien—becoming courageous, precisely because he'd overcome shyness—thought: "I have to tell her the truth." "Madame, I'm here in Besançon for the first time in my life. I should like to have, and to pay for, some bread and a cup of coffee." She smiled, and then reddened: she worried that this handsome young fellow would bring down on himself, from the billiard players, sarcastic remarks and jokes. He'd be frightened and would not come again. "Sit here, near me," she said, pointing to a marble table, almost completely hidden by the huge mahogany bar that projected out into the room. The girl leaned down over the bar, allowing herself to show off her splendid figure. Julien noted it; all his ideas changed. The pretty girl had just set a cup in front of him, along with sugar and a roll. She was hesitating to call over a waiter, so he could have coffee, quite aware that when the waiter arrived, her tête-à-tête with Julien was going to end. Julien was thoughtful, comparing this bright, blonde beauty with memories that frequently stirred him. Thinking of the passion he'd evoked was almost enough to drive away his shyness. The pretty girl had very little time; she understood what she saw in Julien's eyes. "All this pipe smoke makes you cough. Come for breakfast, tomorrow morning, before eight: I'm almost always alone." "What's your name?" said Julien, with a tender smile of happy shyness. "Amanda Binet." "May I send you, in an hour, a little package the size of this one?" Lovely Amanda considered it. "I'm watched. That could get me into trouble. All the same, I'll write my name on a card, so you put it on your package. Send it, don't worry." "My name's Julien Sorel," said the young man. "I have neither family nor friends, here in Besançon." "Ah! I understand," she said cheerfully. "You've come for the law school?" "Alas, no," said Julien. "I've been sent to the seminary." Utter dejection crossed her face. She summoned a waiter: now she had the courage. The waiter poured Julien's coffee without looking at him. Amanda was busy at the bar, taking in money. Julien was proud of having dared to speak to her. A quarrel started, over at the billiard tables. The shouting and arguing echoed through the whole huge room, creating an uproar that astonished Julien. Amanda was sitting dreamily, her eyes lowered. "If you like, miss," he said to her, suddenly confident, "I'll say I'm your cousin." This touch of authority pleased her. "He's not a young nobody," she thought. Quickly, without looking at him, her eyes busily watching for people coming toward the bar, she said: "Me, I come from Genlis, near Dijon. Say you're from Genlis, too, and you're my mother's cousin." "Without fail," he said. "Every Wednesday at five, during the summer, the seminarians go by, right here in front of the café." "If you're thinking of me, as I go by, have a bouquet of violets in your hand." She looked at him, very surprised. Her look turned his timidity to bravery, though he blushed quite deeply as he said: "I think I already love you most passionately." "Don't talk so loud," she told him, very frightened.
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Capital City
Julien tried to recall the words he'd read in a broken set of La Nouvelle Héloise,3 which he'd found at Vergy. His memory served him well: for ten minutes he recited Rousseau to Miss Amanda, who was in raptures. He was delighted at his gallantry, when suddenly her face took on a glacial coldness. One of her lovers had just walked in. He came over to the bar, whistling and swinging his shoulders. He glanced at Julien. Immediately, our hero's mind, always disposed to extremes, could not help brimming with thoughts of a duel. He turned very pale, shoved his cup away, set himself in a stalwart posture, and stared fixedly toward his rival. As this gentleman bent his head, leaning down on the bar and casually ordering a glass of brandy, Amanda looked at Julien, silently commanding him to turn away his eyes. He obeyed and, for two minutes, stayed as he was, pale, determined, and thinking of nothing except what was coming. At that moment, he looked resplendent. The rival had been startled by Julien's stare: tossing down his brandy, he said something to Amanda, stuck both hands in the side pockets of his long frock coat, and went toward the billiard tables, whistling and watching Julien. Our hero leaped up, wild with anger. But he did not know how to act the part of someone who's been insulted. He put down his little bundle and, strutting as well as he knew how, went toward the billiard tables. Prudence spoke, but in vain: "Fighting a duel as soon as you get to Besançon, you throw away your career in the Church." "Who cares? No one's going to say I put up with an insult." Amanda saw his courage. It made a pretty contrast to the naïveté of his behavior. In a flash, she chose him over the tall young man in his frock coat. She got up and, acting as if she were looking at someone going by, out on the street, she quickly got herself between him and the billiard tables. "Be careful with this gentleman. He's my brother-in-law." "Who cares? He was looking at me." "Do you want to make me miserable? Sure, he was looking at you, he may even have been thinking of coming over and talking to you. I told him you were my mother's cousin, just arrived from Genlis. He's a Franche-Comté hick who's never been anywhere past Dôle, on the road to Burgundy, so you can tell him anything you like and never worry about a thing." Julien still hesitated. She quickly added, drawing on her barmaid's wit to supply all the lies she needed: "Sure, he looked at you, but that was when he was asking who you were. This is a man who's rude to everyone: he didn't mean to insult you." Julien was watching the fake brother-in-law. He saw him buying a number at the table where the most energetic billiard game was going on. He heard his coarse voice crying, in menacing tones, "It's my turn!" He stepped swiftly around Miss Amanda and took a step toward the billiard table. Amanda gripped him by the arm. "First pay me," she said. "That's fair," thought Julien. "She's afraid I'll leave without paying." Amanda was quite as excited as he was, and very red in the face. She gave him his change as slowly as she could, and kept repeating, in a soft voice: "Get out of the café right away, or I'm finished with you, no matter how much you love me." Julien did leave, but very slowly. "Isn't it my duty," he kept asking himself, "to take my turn and walk over, whistling, and stare at this rude fellow?" His doubts kept him on the