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A Daughter of Eve
by Honore de Balzac
Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley
DEDICATION
To Madame la Comtesse Bolognini； nee Vimercati。
If you remember； madame； the pleasure your conversation gave to a
traveller by recalling Paris to his memory in Milan； you will not
be surprised to find him testifying his gratitude for many
pleasant evenings passed beside you by laying one of his works at
your feet； and begging you to protect it with your name； as in
former days that name protected the tales of an ancient writer
dear to the Milanese。
You have an Eugenie； already beautiful； whose intelligent smile
gives promise that she has inherited from you the most precious
gifts of womanhood； and who will certainly enjoy during her
childhood and youth all those happinesses which a rigid mother
denied to the Eugenie of these pages。 Though Frenchmen are taxed
with inconstancy； you will find me Italian in faithfulness and
memory。 While writing the name of 〃Eugenie；〃 my thoughts have
often led me back to that cool stuccoed salon and little garden in
the Vicolo dei Cappucini； which echoed to the laughter of that
dear child； to our sportive quarrels and our chatter。 But you have
left the Corso for the Tre Monasteri； and I know not how you are
placed there； consequently； I am forced to think of you； not among
the charming things with which no doubt you have surrounded
yourself； but like one of those fine figures due to Raffaelle；
Titian； Correggio； Allori； which seem abstractions； so distant are
they from our daily lives。
If this book should wing its way across the Alps； it will prove to
you the lively gratitude and respectful friendship of
Your devoted servant；
De Balzac。
A DAUGHTER OF EVE
CHAPTER I
THE TWO MARIES
In one of the finest houses of the rue Neuve…des…Mathurins； at half…
past eleven at night； two young women were sitting before the
fireplace of a boudoir hung with blue velvet of that tender shade；
with shimmering reflections； which French industry has lately learned
to fabricate。 Over the doors and windows were draped soft folds of
blue cashmere； the tint of the hangings； the work of one of those
upholsterers who have just missed being artists。 A silver lamp studded
with turquoise； and suspended by chains of beautiful workmanship； hung
from the centre of the ceiling。 The same system of decoration was
followed in the smallest details； and even to the ceiling of fluted
blue silk； with long bands of white cashmere falling at equal
distances on the hangings； where they were caught back by ropes of
pearl。 A warm Belgian carpet； thick as turf； of a gray ground with
blue posies； covered the floor。 The furniture； of carved ebony； after
a fine model of the old school； gave substance and richness to the
rather too decorative quality； as a painter might call it； of the rest
of the room。 On either side of a large window； two etageres displayed
a hundred precious trifles； flowers of mechanical art brought into
bloom by the fire of thought。 On a chimney…piece of slate…blue marble
were figures in old Dresden； shepherds in bridal garb； with delicate
bouquets in their hands； German fantasticalities surrounding a
platinum clock； inlaid with arabesques。 Above it sparkled the
brilliant facets of a Venice mirror framed in ebony； with figures
carved in relief； evidently obtained from some former royal residence。
Two jardinieres were filled with the exotic product of a hot…house；
pale； but divine flowers； the treasures of botany。
In this cold； orderly boudoir； where all things were in place as if
for sale； no sign existed of the gay and capricious disorder of a
happy home。 At the present moment； the two young women were weeping。
Pain seemed to predominate。 The name of the owner； Ferdinand du
Tillet； one of the richest bankers in Paris； is enough to explain the
luxury of the whole house； of which this boudoir is but a sample。
Though without either rank or station； having pushed himself forward；
heaven knows how； du Tillet had married； in 1831； the daughter of the
Comte de Granville； one of the greatest names in the French
magistracy；a man who became peer of France after the revolution of
July。 This marriage of ambition on du Tillet's part was brought about
by his agreeing to sign an acknowledgment in the marriage contract of
a dowry not received； equal to that of her elder sister； who was
married to Comte Felix de Vandenesse。 On the other hand； the
Granvilles obtained the alliance with de Vandenesse by the largeness
of the 〃dot。〃 Thus the bank repaired the breach made in the pocket of
the magistracy by rank。 Could the Comte de Vandenesse have seen
himself； three years later； the brother…in…law of a Sieur Ferdinand DU
Tillet； so…called； he might not have married his wife； but what man of
rank in 1828 foresaw the strange upheavals which the year 1830 was
destined to produce in the political condition； the fortunes； and the
customs of France？ Had any one predicted to Comte Felix de Vandenesse
that his head would lose the coronet of a peer； and that of his
father…in…law acquire one； he would have thought his informant a
lunatic。
Bending forward on one of those low chairs then called 〃chaffeuses；〃
in the attitude of a listener； Madame du Tillet was pressing to her
bosom with maternal tenderness； and occasionally kissing； the hand of
her sister； Madame Felix de Vandenesse。 Society added the baptismal
name to the surname； in order to distinguish the countess from her
sister…in…law； the Marquise Charles de Vandenesse； wife of the former
ambassador； who had married the widow of the Comte de Kergarouet；
Mademoiselle Emilie de Fontaine。
Half lying on a sofa； her handkerchief in the other hand； her
breathing choked by repressed sobs； and with tearful eyes； the
countess had been making confidences such as are made only from sister
to sister when two sisters love each other； and these two sisters did
love each other tenderly。 We live in days when sisters married into
such antagonist spheres can very well not love each other； and
therefore the historian is bound to relate the reasons of this tender
affection； preserved without spot or jar in spite of their husbands'
contempt for each other and their own social disunion。 A rapid glance
at their childhood will explain the situation。
Brought up in a gloomy house in the Marais； by a woman of narrow mind；
a 〃devote〃 who； being sustained by a sense of duty （sacred phrase！）；
had fulfilled her tasks as a mother religiously； Marie…Angelique and
Marie Eugenie de Granville reached the period of their marriagethe
first at eighteen； the second at twenty years of agewithout ever
leaving the domestic zone where the rigid maternal eye controlled
them。 Up to that time they had never been to a play； the churches of
Paris were their theatre。 Their education in their mother's house had
been as rigorous as it would have been in a convent。 From infancy they
had slept in a room adjoining that of the Comtesse de Granville； the
door of which stood always open。 The time not occupied by the care of
their persons； their religious duties and the studies considered
necessary for well…bred young ladies； was spent in needlework done for
the poor； or in walks like those an Englishwoman allows herself on
Sunday； saying； apparently； 〃Not so fast； or we shall seem to be
amusing ourselves。〃
Their education did not go beyond the limits imposed by confessors；
who were chosen by their mother from the strictest and least tolerant
of the Jansenist priests。 Never were girls delivered over to their
husbands more absolutely pure and virgin than they； their mother
seemed to consider that point； essential as indeed it is； the
accomplishment of all her duties toward earth and heaven。 These two
poor creatures had never； before their marriage； read a tale； or heard
of a romance； their very drawings were of figures whose anatomy would
have been masterpieces of the impossible to Cuvier； designed to
feminize the Farnese Hercules himself。 An old maid taught them
drawing。 A worthy priest instructed them in grammar； the French
language； history； geography； and the very little arithmetic it was
thought necessary in their rank for women to know。 Their reading；
selected from authorized books； such as the 〃Lettres Edifiantes；〃 and
Noel's 〃Lecons de Litterature；〃 was done aloud in the evening； but
always in presence of their mother's confessor； for even in those
books there did sometimes occur passages which； without wise comments；
might have roused their imagination。 Fenelon's 〃Telemaque〃 was thought
dangerous。
The Comtesse de Granville loved her daughters sufficiently to wish to
make them angels after the pattern of Marie Alacoque； but the poor
girls themselves would have preferred a less virtuous and more am