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Study of a Woman ...............................................................................................................................................1

The Marquise de Listomere is one of those young women who have been brought up in the spirit of the

Restoration. She has principles, she fasts, takes the sacrament, and goes to balls and operas very elegantly

dressed; her confessor permits her to combine the mundane with sanctity. Always in conformity with the

Church and with the world, she presents a living image of the present day, which seems to have taken the

word "legality" for its motto. The conduct of the marquise shows precisely enough religious devotion to

attain under a new Maintenon to the gloomy piety of the last days of Louis XIV., and enough worldliness to

adopt the habits of gallantry of the first years of that reign, should it ever be revived. At the present moment

she is strictly virtuous from policy, possibly from inclination. Married for the last seven years to the Marquis

de Listomere, one of those deputies who expect a peerage, she may also consider that such conduct will

promote the ambitions of her family. Some women are reserving their opinion of her until the moment when

Monsieur de Listomere becomes a peer of France, when she herself will be thirtysix years of age,a period

The marquis is a rather insignificant man. He stands well at court; his good qualities are as negative as his

defects; the former can no more make him a reputation for virtue than the latter can give him the sort of

glamor cast by vice. As deputy, he never speaks, but he votes RIGHT. He behaves in his own home as he

does in the Chamber. Consequently, he is held to be one of the best husbands in France. Though not

susceptible of lively interest, he never scolds, unless, to be sure, he is kept waiting. His friends have named

him "dull weather,"aptly enough, for there is neither clear light nor total darkness about him. He is like all

the ministers who have succeeded one another in France since the Charter. A woman with principles could

not have fallen into better hands. It is certainly a great thing for a virtuous woman to have married a man

Occasionally some fops have been sufficiently impertinent to press the hand of the marquise while dancing

with her. They gained nothing in return but contemptuous glances; all were made to feel the shock of that

insulting indifference which, like a spring frost, destroys the germs of flattering hopes. Beaux, wits, and fops,

men whose sentiments are fed by sucking their canes, those of a great name, or a great fame, those of the

highest or the lowest rank in her own world, they all blanch before her. She has conquered the right to

converse as long and as often as she chooses with the men who seem to her agreeable, without being entered

on the tablets of gossip. Certain coquettish women are capable of following a plan of this kind for seven years

in order to gratify their fancies later; but to suppose any such reservations in the Marquise de Listomere

I have had the happiness of knowing this phoenix. She talks well; I know how to listen; consequently I please

Neither plain nor pretty, Madame de Listomere has white teeth, a dazzling skin, and very red lips; she is tall

and wellmade; her foot is small and slender, and she does not put it forth; her eyes, far from being dulled

like those of so many Parisian women, have a gentle glow which becomes quite magical if, by chance, she is

animated. A soul is then divined behind that rather indefinite form. If she takes an interest in the conversation

she displays a grace which is otherwise buried beneath the precautions of cold demeanor, and then she is

charming. She does not seek success, but she obtains it. We find that for which we do not seek: that saying is

so often true that some day it will be turned into a proverb. It is, in fact, the moral of this adventure, which I

should not allow myself to tell if it were not echoing at the present moment through all the salons of Paris.

The Marquise de Listomere danced, about a month ago, with a young man as modest as he is lively, full of

good qualities, but exhibiting, chiefly, his defects. He is ardent, but he laughs at ardor; he has talent, and he

hides it; he plays the learned man with aristocrats, and the aristocrat with learned men. Eugene de Rastignac

is one of those extremely clever young men who try all things, and seem to sound others to discover what the

future has in store. While awaiting the age of ambition, he scoffs at everything; he has grace and originality,

two rare qualities because the one is apt to exclude the other. On this occasion he talked for nearly half an

hour with madame de Listomere, without any predetermined idea of pleasing her. As they followed the

caprices of conversation, which, beginning with the opera of "Guillaume Tell," had reached the topic of the

duties of women, he looked at the marquise, more than once, in a manner that embarrassed her; then he left

her and did not speak to her again for the rest of the evening. He danced, played at ecarte, lost some money,

and went home to bed. I have the honor to assure you that the affair happened precisely thus. I add nothing,

The next morning Rastignac woke late and stayed in bed, giving himself up to one of those matutinal reveries

in the course of which a young man glides like a sylph under many a silken, or cashmere, or cotton drapery.

The heavier the body from its weight of sleep, the more active the mind. Rastignac finally got up, without

yawning overmuch as many illbred persons are apt to do. He rang for his valet, ordered tea, and drank

immoderately of it when it came; which will not seem extraordinary to persons who like tea; but to explain

the circumstance to others, who regard that beverage as a panacea for indigestion, I will add that Eugene was,

by this time, writing letters. He was comfortably seated, with his feet more frequently on the andirons than,

properly, on the rug. Ah! to have one's feet on the polished bar which connects the two griffins of a fender,

and to think of our love in our dressinggown is so delightful a thing that I deeply regret the fact of having

The first letter which Eugene wrote was soon finished; he folded and sealed it, and laid it before him without

adding the address. The second letter, begun at eleven o'clock, was not finished till midday. The four pages

"That woman keeps running in my head," he muttered, as he folded this second epistle and laid it before him,

He crossed the two flaps of his flowered dressinggown, put his feet on a stool, slipped his hands into the

pockets of his red cashmere trousers, and lay back in a delightful easychair with side wings, the seat and

back of which described an angle of one hundred and twenty degrees. He stopped drinking tea and remained

motionless, his eyes fixed on the gilded hand which formed the knob of his shovel, but without seeing either

hand or shovel. He ceased even to poke the fire, a vast mistake! Isn't it one of our greatest pleasures to play

with the fire when we think of women? Our minds find speeches in those tiny blue flames which suddenly

dart up and babble on the hearth. We interpret as we please the strong, harsh tones of a "burgundian."

Here I must pause to put before all ignorant persons an explanation of that word, derived from a very

"Burgundian" is the name given, since the reign of Charles VI., to those noisy detonations, the result of which

is to fling upon the carpet or the clothes a little coal or ember, the trifling nucleus of a conflagration. Heat or

fire releases, they say, a bubble of air left in the heart of the wood by a gnawing worm. "Inde amor, inde

burgundus." We tremble when we see the structure we had so carefully erected between the logs rolling down

like an avalanche. Oh! to build and stir and play with fire when we love is the material development of our

We began to talk of the expedition to Morea, to which I was anxious to be appointed as physician. Eugene

remarked that I should lose a great deal of time if I left Paris. We then conversed on various matters, and I

When the Marquise de Listomere rose, about halfpast two in the afternoon of that day, her waitingmaid,

Caroline, gave her a letter which she read while Caroline was doing her hair (an imprudence which many

At these words the marquise was about to fling the letter in the fire; but there came into her head a

fancywhich all virtuous women will readily understandto see how a man who began a letter in that style

could possibly end it. When she had turned the fourth page and read it, she let her arms drop like a person

"Madame, I received it myself from the valet of Monsieur le Baron de Rastignac."

I request all women to imagine for themselves the reflections of which this was the first.

Madame de Listomere ended hers by a formal decision to forbid her porter to admit Monsieur de Rastignac,

and to show him, herself, something more than disdain when she met him in society; for his insolence far

surpassed that of other men which the marquise had ended by overlooking. At first she thought of keeping the

"Madame had just received such a fine loveletter; and she read it," said Caroline to the housemaid.

"I should never have thought that of madame," replied the other, quite surprised.

That evening Madame de Listomere went to a party at the Marquis de Beauseant's, where Rastignac would

probably betake himself. It was Saturday. The Marquis de Beauseant was in some way a connection of

Monsieur de Rastignac, and the young man was not likely to miss coming. By two in the morning Madame

de Listomere, who had gone there solely for the purpose of crushing Eugene by her coldness, discovered that

she was waiting in vain. A brilliant manStendhalhas given the fantastic name of "crystallization" to the

process which Madame de Listomere's thoughts went through before, during, and after this evening.

"You do nothing but make mistakes. Where did you carry those letters I gave you Saturday?"

Joseph became stolid. Like a statue in some cathedral porch, he stood motionless, entirely absorbed in the

"Monsieur, one was for the Marquise de Listomere, the other was for Monsieur's lawyer."

Joseph was speechless. I saw plainly that I must interfere, as I happened to be again in Eugene's apartment.

"No, by all the devils, it was not. Consequently, I supposed, my dear fellow, that your heart was wandering

Eugene struck his forehead with the flat of his hand and began to laugh; by which Joseph perceived that the

Now, there are certain morals to this tale on which young men had better reflect. FIRST MISTAKE: Eugene

thought it would be amusing to make Madame de Listomere laugh at the blunder which had made her the

recipient of a loveletter which was not intended for her. SECOND MISTAKE: he did not call on Madame

de Listomere for several days after the adventure, thus allowing the thoughts of that virtuous young woman to

crystallize. There were other mistakes which I will here pass over in silence, in order to give the ladies the

pleasure of deducing them, "ex professo," to those who are unable to guess them.

Eugene at last went to call upon the marquise; but, on attempting to pass into the house, the porter stopped

him, saying that Madame la marquise was out. As he was getting back into his carriage the Marquis de

Pray excuse the marquis. A husband, however good he may be, never attains perfection. As they went up the

staircase Rastignac perceived at least a dozen blunders in worldly wisdom which had, unaccountably, slipped

When Madame de Listomere saw her husband ushering in Eugene she could not help blushing. The young

baron saw that sudden color. If the most humbleminded man retains in the depths of his soul a certain

conceit of which he never rids himself, any more than a woman ever rids herself of coquetry, who shall blame

Eugene if he did say softly in his own mind: "What! that fortress, too?" So thinking, he posed in his cravat.

Young men may not be grasping but they like to get a new coin in their collection.

Monsieur de Listomere seized the "Gazette de France," which he saw on the mantelpiece, and carried it to a

window, to obtain, by journalistic help, an opinion of his own on the state of France.

A woman, even a prude, is never long embarrassed, however difficult may be the position in which she finds

herself; she seems always to have on hand the figleaf which our mother Eve bequeathed to her.

Consequently, when Eugene, interpreting, in favor of his vanity, the refusal to admit him, bowed to Madame

de Listomere in a tolerably intentional manner, she veiled her thoughts behind one of those feminine smiles

"If my visit is indiscreet you must blame Monsieur le marquis. I had already accepted your mysterious denial,

"Monsieur de Listomere is not in my confidence on this point. It is not always prudent to put a husband in

The firm and gentle tones in which the marquise said these words, and the imposing glance which she cast

upon Rastignac made him aware that he had posed in his cravat a trifle prematurely.

"Madame, I understand you," he said, laughing. "I ought, therefore, to be doubly thankful that Monsieur le

marquis met me; he affords me an opportunity to offer you excuses which might be full of danger were you

The marquise looked at the young man with an air of some surprise, but she answered with dignity:

"Monsieur, silence on your part will be the best excuse. As for me, I promise you entire forgetfulness, and the

"Madame," said Rastignac, hastily, "pardon is not needed where there was no offence. The letter," he added,

in a low voice, "which you received, and which you must have thought extremely unbecoming, was not

"Why deceive?" she said, with a disdainful air, although the tones of her voice were gentle. "Now that I have

duly scolded you, I am willing to laugh at a subterfuge which is not without cleverness. I know many women

"If we desire to continue friends let there be no more MISTAKES, of which it is impossible that I should be

"What are you talking about?" asked Monsieur de Listomere, who, for the last minute, had been listening to

Monsieur de Listomere tranquilly returned to the reading of his paper, and presently said:

"Ah! Madame de Mortsauf is dead; your poor brother has, no doubt, gone to Clochegourde."

"Are you aware, monsieur," resumed the marquise, turning to Eugene, "that what you have just said is a great

"If I did not know the strictness of your principles," he answered, naively, "I should think that you wished

either to give me ideas which I deny myself, or else to tear a secret from me. But perhaps you are only

"Madame," he said, "can you still believe in an offence I have not committed? I earnestly hope that chance

may not enable you to discover the name of the person who ought to have read that letter."

"What! can it be STILL Madame de Nucingen?" cried Madame de Listomere, more eager to penetrate that

secret than to revenge herself for the impertinence of the young man's speeches.

Eugene colored. A man must be more than twentyfive years of age not to blush at being taxed with a fidelity

that women laugh atin order, perhaps, not to show that they envy it. However, he replied with tolerable

This speech caused a violent commotion in Madame de Listomere's bosom; but Rastignac did not yet know

how to analyze a woman's face by a rapid or sidelong glance. The lips of the marquise paled, but that was all.

She rang the bell for wood, and so constrained Rastignac to rise and take his leave.

"If that be so," said the marquise, stopping Eugene with a cold and rigid manner, "you will find it difficult to

explain, monsieur, why your pen should, by accident, write my name. A name, written on a letter, is not a

Eugene, discomfited, looked at the marquise with an air that was both stupid and conceited. He felt that he

was becoming ridiculous; and after stammering a few juvenile phrases he left the room.

A few days later the marquise acquired undeniable proofs that Eugene had told the truth. For the last fortnight

But I, her physician, who am now attending her, know it is really nothing more than a slight nervous attack,

Bianchon, Horace Father Goriot The Atheist's Mass Cesar Birotteau The Commission in Lunacy Lost

Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Bachelor's Establishment The Secrets of a Princess The

Government Clerks Pierrette A Study of Woman Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Honorine The Seamy Side

of History The Magic Skin A Second Home A Prince of Bohemia Letters of Two Brides The Muse of the

Department The Imaginary Mistress The Middle Classes Cousin Betty The Country Parson In addition, M.

Listomere, Marquis de The Lily of the Valley A Distinguished Provincial at Paris

Listomere, Marquise de The Lily of the Valley Lost Illusions A Distinguished Provincial at Paris A Daughter

Rastignac, Eugene de Father Goriot A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The

Ball at Sceaux The Interdiction Another Study of Woman The Magic Skin The Secrets of a Princess A

Daughter of Eve The Gondreville Mystery The Firm of Nucingen Cousin Betty The Member for Arcis The