I sometimes
saw her, the adorable girl who sat quietly sewing at my table, wrapped
in her meditations; the faint light from my window fell upon her and
was reflected back in silvery rays from her thick black hair;
sometimes I heard her young laughter, or the rich tones of her voice
singing some canzonet that she composed without effort. And often my
Pauline seemed to grow greater, as music flowed from her, and her face
bore a striking resemblance to the noble one that Carlo Dolci chose
for the type of Italy. My cruel memory brought her back athwart the
dissipations of my existence, like a remorse, or a symbol of purity.
But let us leave the poor child to her own fate. Whatever her troubles
may have been, at any rate I protected her from a menacing tempest--I
did not drag her down into my hell.
"Until last winter I led the uneventful studious life of which I have
given you some faint picture. In the earliest days of December 1829, I
came across Rastignac, who, in spite of the shabby condition of my
wardrobe, linked his arm in mine, and inquired into my affairs with a
quite brotherly interest. Caught by his engaging manner, I gave him a
brief account of my life and hopes; he began to laugh, and treated me
as a mixture of a man of genius and a fool.
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