Червоне та чорне

The Opera-Bouffe

           Hisactionsweresolittlecontrolledbyhisintellectthatifsomemournfulphilosopherhadsaidtohim,"Thinkhowtoexploitasquicklyasyoucanthosesymptomswhichpromisetobefavourabletoyou.Inthiskindofhead-lovewhichisseenatParis,thesamemoodcannotlastmorethantwodays,"hewouldnothaveunderstoodhim.Buthoweverecstatichemightfeel,Julienwasamanofhonour.Discretionwashisfirstduty.Heappreciatedit.Askingadvice,describinghisagonytothefirstmanwhocamealongwouldhaveconstitutedahappinessanalogoustothatoftheunhappymanwho,whentraversingaburningdesertreceivesfromheavenadropoficywater.Herealisedthedanger,wasfrightenedofansweringanindiscreetquestionbyatorrentoftears,andshuthimselfupinhisownroom.

           HesawMathildewalkinginthegardenforalongtime.Whensheatlastleftit,hewentdownthereandapproachedtherosebushfromwhichshehadtakenaflower.

           Thenightwasdarkandhecouldabandonhimselftohisunhappinesswithoutfearofbeingseen.ItwasobvioustohimthatmademoiselledelaMolelovedoneofthoseyoungofficerswithwhomshehadchattedsogaily.Shehadlovedhim,butshehadrealisedhislittlemerit,"andasamatteroffactIhadverylittle,"Juliensaidtohimselfwithfullconviction."TakingmeallroundIamaverydull,vulgarperson,veryboringtoothersandquiteunbearabletomyself.

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