Sentimental Education quotes

then he placed himself close to her parasol which lay against the bench, and pretended to be looking at a sloop on the river.

Never before had he seen more lustrous dark skin, a more seductive figure, or more delicately shaped fingers than those through which the sunlight gleamed.

He stared with amazement at her workbasket, as if it were something extraordinary. What was her name, her place of residence, her life, her past?

Never before had he seen more lustrous dark skin, a more seductive figure, or more delicately shaped fingers than those through which the sunlight gleamed. He stared with amazement at her workbasket, as if it were something extraordinary.

What was her name, her place of residence, her life, her past?

He longed to become familiar with the furniture of her apartment, all the dresses that she had worn, the people whom she visited; and the desire of physical possession yielded to a deeper yearning, a painful curiosity that knew no bounds.

What bliss it would have been to ascend side by side with her, his arm around her waist, while her gown would sweep the yellow leaves, listening to her voice and gazing up into her glowing eyes!

The steamboat might stop, and all they would have to do was to step out of it; and yet this thing, simple as it might be, was not less difficult than it would have been to move the sun.

A little further on, a château appeared with pointed roof and square turrets. A flower garden spread out in the foreground; and avenues ran, like dark archways, under the tall linden trees. He pictured her to himself passing along by this group of trees.

She resembled the women of whom he had read in romances. He would have added nothing to the charms of her person, and would have taken nothing from them.

The universe had suddenly become enlarged. She was the luminous point towards which all things converged

; and, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, with half-dosed eyelids, and his face turned towards the clouds, he abandoned himself to a dreamy, infinite joy.

And the painter rushed away in a rage, and, of course, without paying for his drink.

Frederick, whilst defending Arnoux, had convinced himself.

In the heat of his eloquence, he was filled with tenderness towards this man, so intelligent and kind, whom his friends calumniated, and who had now to work all alone, abandoned by them.

Frederick, as these words fell upon his ear, glanced towards Madame Arnoux.

They sank into his soul like metals falling into a furnace, added to his passion, and supplied the material of love.

His chair was three seats below hers on the same side. From time to time, she bent forward a little, turning aside her head to address a few words to her little daughter;

Rosenwald did not leave the piano. He continued playing, to amuse himself. From time to time a guest stole away. At eleven o’clock, as the last of them were going off, Arnoux went out along with Pellerin, under the pretext of seeing him home.

He was one of those people who say that they are ill when they do not “take a turn” after dinner.

Madame Arnoux had made her way towards the anteroom. Dittmer and Hussonnet bowed to her. She stretched out her hand to them. She did the same to Frederick; and he felt, as it were, something penetrating every particle of his skin.

His own face presented itself to his view in the glass.

He thought himself handsome, and for a minute he remained gazing at himself.

Dussardier did not reply. They all pressed him to ascertain what his tastes were.

“Well,” said he, colouring, “for my part, I would like to love the same one always!”

This was said in such a way that there was a moment of silence, some of them being surprised at this candour, and others finding in his words, perhaps, the secret yearning of their souls.

“All the same, this puts you into a mess,” said Deslauriers.

There is nothing so humiliating as to see blockheads succeed in undertakings in which we fail.

Frederick, filled with vexation, replied that he did not care a straw about the matter. He had higher pretensions; and as Hussonnet made a show of leaving, Frederick took him aside, and said to him:

In the shoemakers’ show-windows the little satin slippers with swan’s-down edges seemed to be waiting for her foot. Every street led towards her house; the hackney-coaches stood in their places to carry her home the more quickly;

Paris was associated with her person, and the great city, with all its noises, roared around her like an immense orchestra.

When he went into the Jardin des Plantes the sight of a palm-tree carried him off into distant countries.

No doubt, she would decline to listen to him or else she would feel indignant and turn him out of the house. But he preferred to submit to even the most painful ordeal rather than run the horrible risk of seeing her no more.

He envied pianists for their talents and soldiers for their scars.

He longed for a dangerous attack of sickness, hoping in this way to make her take an interest in him.

Everyone congratulated her on having so good a husband.

“Ah! it is because I am not the only one,” she replied quietly, pointing towards her little daughter.

Then, the conversation having turned once more on painting, there was some talk about a Ruisdael, for which Arnoux expected a big sum, and Pellerin asked him if it were true that the celebrated Saul Mathias from London had come over during the past month …

Ruined, stripped of everything, undermined!

He remained seated on the bench, as if stunned by a shock. He cursed Fate; he would have liked to beat somebody; and, to intensify his despair, he felt a kind of outrage, a sense of disgrace, weighing down upon him;

When he took off his hat, a face almost like that of a woman with an extremely sharp nose could be seen; his hair, which was of a yellow colour, resembled a wig. He saluted people with a very low bow, brushing against the wall.

Up to his fiftieth year, he had been content with the services of Catherine, a native of Lorraine, of the same age as himself, who was strongly marked with smallpox.

But in the year 1834, he brought back with him from Paris a handsome blonde with a sheep-like type of countenance and a “queenly carriage.” Ere long, she was observed strutting about with large earrings;

And in an abrupt expansion of healthfulness, he formed egoistic resolutions.

He felt his heart as hard as the table on which his elbows rested.

So then he could by this time plunge fearlessly into the vortex of society. The thought of the Dambreuses recurred to his mind. He would make use of them. Then he recalled Deslauriers to mind. “Ah! faith, so much the worse!”

Frederick had seen her falling: “ ’Tis nothing!” And at his entreaties to be allowed to go and look after her, she replied slowly:

“Pooh! what’s the good? That’s just as pleasant as anything else. Life is not so amusing!”

Then, he shivered, a feeling of icy sadness taking possession of him, as if he had caught a glimpse of whole worlds of wretchedness and despair—a chafing-dish of charcoal beside a folding-bed, the corpses of the Morgue in leathern aprons, with the tap of cold …

Frederick, as he cast a glance round, was beginning to recall the hubbub of the other night, when he noticed on the table, in the middle of the room, a man’s hat, an old felt hat, bruised, greasy, dirty. To whom did this hat belong?

Impudently displaying its torn lining, it seemed to say:

“I have the laugh, after all! I am the master!”

To whom did this hat belong? Impudently displaying its torn lining, it seemed to say:

“I have the laugh, after all! I am the master!”

The Maréchale suddenly reappeared on the scene.

If it were not for me, she would have fallen into the mire twenty times over! But I will plunge her into it yet! I’ll see her dying in a hospital—and everything about her will be known!”

And, like a torrent of dirty water from a vessel full of refuse, her rage poured out in a tumultuous fashion into Frederick’s ear the recital of her rival’s disgraceful acts.

“She lived with Jumillac, with Flacourt, with little Allard, with Bertinaux, with Saint-Valéry, the pockmarked fellow! No, ’twas the other! They are two brothers—it makes no difference. And when she was in difficulties, I settled everything. She is so avaricious!

“Yes, this is what I think about him now. And Arnoux, eh? Isn’t it abominable? He has forgiven her so often! You can’t conceive the sacrifices he has made for her. She ought to kiss his feet! He is so generous, so good!”

Frederick was delighted at hearing Delmar disparaged.

He had taken sides with Arnoux. This perfidy on Rosanette’s part seemed to him an abnormal and inexcusable thing; and, infected with this elderly spinster’s emotion, he felt a sort of tenderness towards her. Suddenly he found himself in front of Arnoux’s door.

Then, with a big sigh:

“Don’t marry, my poor friend, don’t, if you take my advice!”

And he took himself off, finding it absolutely necessary to get into the open air.

… real cause of his grief, he pretended that it was of a different character, a sublime feeling, and he assumed the part of an Antony to some extent, the man accursed by fate—language which did not, however, change very materially the complexion of his thoughts.

For certain men action becomes more difficult as desire becomes stronger.

They are embarrassed by self-distrust, and terrified by the fear of making themselves disliked. Besides, deep attachments resemble virtuous women: they are afraid of being discovered, and pass through life with downcast eyes.

For certain men action becomes more difficult as desire becomes stronger. They are embarrassed by self-distrust, and terrified by the fear of making themselves disliked.

Besides, deep attachments resemble virtuous women: they are afraid of being discovered, and pass through life with downcast eyes.

Though he was now better acquainted with Madame Arnoux (for that very reason perhaps), he was still more fainthearted than before. Each morning he swore in his own mind that he would take a bold course.

He was prevented from doing so by an unconquerable feeling of bashfulness; and he had no example to guide him, inasmuch as she was different from other women. From the force of his dreams, he had placed her outside the ordinary pale of humanity.

At her side he felt himself of less importance in the world than the sprigs of silk that escaped from her scissors.

Then he thought of some monstrous and absurd devices, such as surprises at night, with narcotics and false keys—anything appearing easier to him than to face her disdain.

“ ’Tis useless now; I should not find him in. I’ll go this evening.”

Thus giving himself the opportunity of changing his mind, for there always remain in the conscience some of those sophistries which we pour into it ourselves. It preserves the aftertaste of them, like some unwholesome liquor.

He walked along the boulevards, and dined alone at the restaurant. Then he listened to one act of a play at the Vaudeville, in order to divert his thoughts. But his banknotes caused him as much embarrassment as if he had stolen them.

He walked along the boulevards, and dined alone at the restaurant. Then he listened to one act of a play at the Vaudeville, in order to divert his thoughts.

But his banknotes caused him as much embarrassment as if he had stolen them.

He would not have been very sorry if he had lost them.

He piled up confusedly on his table the humanists, the philosophers, and the poets, and he went to inspect some engravings of Mark Antony, and tried to understand Machiavelli. Gradually, the serenity of intellectual work had a soothing effect upon him.

While his mind was steeped in the personality of others, he lost sight of his own⁠—which is the only way, perhaps, of getting rid of suffering.

One day, while he was quietly taking notes, the door opened, and the manservant announced Madame Arnoux.

She replied, while turning about the stem between her fingers, like the thread of a spindle:

“No, I will preserve it.”

She called over the nurse, who took the child in her arms; then, on the threshold of the door in the street, Madame Arnoux inhaled the odour of the flower, leaning her head on her shoulder with a look as sweet as a kiss.

Then, Frederick recalled the days, already far away, when he yearned for the inexpressible happiness of finding himself in one of these carriages by the side of one of these women.

He had attained to this bliss, and yet he was not thereby one jot the happier.

The rain had ceased falling. The pedestrians, who had sought shelter between the columns of the Public Storerooms, took their departure. Persons who had been walking along the Rue Royale, went up again towards the boulevard.

And, standing before him, she looked at him with her lashes drawn close together and her two hands resting on his shoulders.

All his virtue, all his rancour gave way before the utter weakness of his will.

“Because you won’t love me,” and he took her on his knees.

Frederick considered their parting salutation a last mockery. He had resolved never to come back to this house, or to visit any of these people again.

He imagined that he had offended them, not realising what vast funds of indifference society possesses.

These women especially excited his indignation. Not a single one of them had backed him up even with a look of sympathy. He felt angry with them for not having been moved by his words.

Under the pretence that they had appointments, they managed gradually to get rid of him.

There are some men whose only mission amongst their fellow-men is to serve as go-betweens; people use them in the same way as if they were bridges, by stepping over them and going on further.

Frederick concealed nothing from his old friend. He told him about the coal-mine speculation and M. Dambreuse’s proposal. The advocate grew thoughtful.

Frederick revenged himself for having had to pay for it by bitterly disparaging it. Deslauriers believed in Frederick’s statement on the point, and expressed approval of his conduct, for he had always been ambitious of constituting a phalanx of which he would be the leader.

Certain men take delight in making their friends do things which are disagreeable to them.

Meanwhile, Frederick did not renew his visits to the Dambreuses. He lacked the capital for the investment. He would have to enter into endless explanations on the subject; he hesitated about making up his mind. Perhaps he was in the right.

“Leave me in the name of Heaven, for mercy’s sake!”

And Frederick loved her so much that he went away.

Soon afterwards, he was filled with rage against himself, declared in his own mind that he was an idiot, and, after the lapse of twenty-four hours, returned.

He stared at the gaps in the pavement, the mouths of the gutters, the candelabra, and the numbers above the doors.

The most trifling objects became for him companions, or rather, ironical spectators, and the regular fronts of the houses seemed to him to have a pitiless aspect.

He was suffering from cold feet. He felt as if he were about to succumb to the dejection which was crushing him. The reverberation of his footsteps vibrated through his brain.

“

Heroes have not a good smell.

”

On the throne below sat a representative of the proletariat in effigy with a black beard, his shirt gaping open, a jolly air, and the stupid look of a baboon. Others climbed up the platform to sit in his place.

“What a myth!” said Hussonnet. “There you see the sovereign people!”

The armchair was lifted up on the hands of a number of persons and passed across the hall, swaying from one side to the other.

de Falloux, all the Bonapartists, all the Legitimists, and a considerable number of Orléanists were about to do with a swiftness indicative of marvellous zeal.

The fall of the Monarchy had been so rapid that, as soon as the first stupefaction that succeeded it had passed away, there was amongst the middle class a feeling of astonishment at the fact that they were still alive.

The summary execution of some thieves, who were shot without a trial, was regarded as an act of signal justice.

… expressed indignation at them by virtue of that hatred which the advent of every idea provokes, simply because it is an idea—an odium from which it derives subsequently its glory, and which causes its enemies to be always beneath it, however lowly it may be.

Then Property rose in their regard to the level of Religion, and was confounded with God.

The attacks made on it appeared to them a sacrilege; almost a species of cannibalism.

almost a species of cannibalism. In spite of the most humane legislation that ever existed, the spectre of ’93 reappeared, and the chopper of the guillotine vibrated in every syllable of the word “Republic,” which did not prevent them from despising it for its weakness.

France, no longer feeling herself mistress of the situation, was beginning to shriek with terror, like a blind man without his stick or an infant that had lost its nurse.

Of all Frenchmen, M. Dambreuse was the most alarmed. The new condition of things threatened his fortune, but, more than anything else, it deceived his experience. A system so good! a king so wise! was it possible? The ground was giving way beneath their feet!

At the end of the garden may be seen a park through whose entire length a canal makes its way.

Royal residences have attached to them a peculiar kind of melancholy, due, no doubt, to their dimensions being much too large for the limited number of guests entertained within them

, to the silence which one feels astonished to find in them after so many flourishes of trumpets, to the immobility of their luxurious furniture, which attests by the aspect of age and decay it gradually assumes the transitory character of dynasties, the eternal wretchedness …

“Well, stay behind then! I’ll go there by myself!”

Louise glided like an adder towards the staircase.

Catherine rushed after her, and came up with her on the footpath outside the house. Her remonstrances were fruitless; and she followed the girl, fastening her undervest as she hurried along in the rear. The walk appeared to her exceedingly tedious.

“I tell you he’s not. Why, for nearly three months he has not slept at home!”

And the little pane of the lodge fell down sharply, like the blade of a guillotine.

They remained in the darkness under the archway.

Each exerted himself according to his resources, including Cisy himself. With his thoughts now all day long absorbed in matters of grave moment, he kept making excursions here and there in a cab in the interests of the party.

M. Dambreuse, like a barometer, constantly gave expression to its latest variation.

Lamartine could not be alluded to without eliciting from this gentleman the quotation of a famous phrase of the man of the people: “Enough of poetry!” Cavaignac was, from this time forth, nothing better in his eyes than a traitor.

“Robespierre, by upholding the right of the minority, had brought Louis XVI to acknowledge the National Convention, and saved the people. Things were rendered legitimate by the end towards which they were directed. A dictatorship is sometimes indispensable.

Long live tyranny, provided that the tyrant promotes the public welfare!

”

“All the faults of her father!” She disparaged him more and more. There was never a person with such profound duplicity, and with such a merciless disposition into the bargain, as hard as a stone—“a bad man, a bad man!”

Even the wisest people fall into errors.

Madame Dambreuse had just made a serious one through this overflow of hatred on her part. Frederick, sitting opposite her in an easy chair, was reflecting deeply, scandalised by the language she had used.

The carriage of the deceased and a dozen mourning-coaches followed. The persons attending at the funeral came in the rear, filling up the middle of the boulevard.

The passersby stopped to look at the mournful procession.

Women, with their brats in their arms, got up on chairs, and people, who had been drinking glasses of beer in the cafés, presented themselves at the windows with billiard-cues in their hands.

eternal regrets; the better land; farewell, or rather no, au revoir!”

The clay, mingled with stones, fell on the coffin, and he would never again be a subject for discussion in society.

However, there were a few allusions to him as the persons who had followed his remains left the cemetery.

And she fell back on a chair, crushed.

A mother grieving beside an empty cradle was not more woeful than Madame Dambreuse was at the sight of the open strongboxes.

Indeed, her sorrow, in spite of the baseness of the motive which inspired it, appeared so deep that he tried to console her by reminding her that, after all, she was not reduced to sheer want.

But there was no way of learning any more about it! However, what was the use of it?

The hearts of women are like little pieces of furniture wherein things are secreted, full of drawers fitted into each other; one hurts himself, breaks his nails in opening them, and then finds within only some withered flower, a few grains of dust⁠—or emptiness!

And then perhaps he felt afraid of learning too much about the matter.

She had a style of playing on the piano which was correct and hard.

Her spiritualism (Madame Dambreuse believed in the transmigration of souls into the stars) did not prevent her from taking the utmost care of her cashbox.

She was haughty towards her servants; her eyes remained dry at the sight of the rags of the poor. In the expressions of which she habitually made use a candid egoism manifested itself: “What concern is that of mine? I should be very silly!

She wished to be a society lady, and believed herself to be one. She begged of him not to smoke in the drawing-room any more, and for the sake of good form tried to make herself look thin.

She played her part badly, after all; for she grew serious, and even before going to bed always ex hibited a little melancholy, just as there are cypress trees at the door of a tavern.

He found out the cause of it; she was dreaming of marriage—she, too! Frederick was exasperated at this.