Червоне та чорне

Dullness

           "IsittruethatyouknowLatin?"ThesewordsoffendedJulien’spride,anddissipatedthecharmingatmospherewhichhehadbeenenjoyingforthelastquarterofanhour.

           "Yes,Madame,"hesaid,tryingtoassumeanairofcoldness,"IknowLatinaswellasthecuré,whohasbeengoodenoughtosaysometimesthatIknowitevenbetter."

           MadamedeRênalthoughtthatJulienlookedextremelywicked.Hehadstoppedtwopacesfromher.Sheapproachedandsaidtohiminawhisper:

           "Youwon’tbeatmychildrenthefirstfewdays,willyou,eveniftheydonotknowtheirlessons?"

           ThesoftnessandalmostsupplicationofsobeautifulaladymadeJuliensuddenlyforgetwhatheowedtohisreputationasaLatinist.MadamedeRênal’sfacewasclosetohisown.Hesmelttheperfumeofawoman’ssummerclothing,aquiteastonishingexperienceforapoorpeasant.Julienblushedextremely,andsaidwithasighinafalteringvoice:

           "Fearnothing,Madame,Iwillobeyyouineverything."

           Itwasonlynow,whenheranxietyaboutherchildrenhadbeenrelievedonceandforall,thatMadamedeRênalwasstruckbyJulien’sextremebeauty.Thecomparativeeffeminancyofhisfeaturesandhisairofextremeembarrassmentdidnotseeminanywayridiculoustoawomanwhowasherselfextremelytimid.Themaleair,whichisusuallyconsideredessentialtoaman’sbeauty,wouldhaveterrifiedher.

           "Howoldareyou,sir,"shesaidtoJulien.

           "Nearlynineteen."

           "Myeldersoniseleven,"wentonMadamedeRênal,whohadcompletelyrecoveredherconfidence."Hewillbealmostachumforyou.Youwilltalksensiblytohim.

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