File:Mademoiselle de Maupin, v. 2 (1897) (14778837924).jpg

Identifier: mademoiselledema10gaut (find matches)
Title: Mademoiselle de Maupin, v. 2
Year: 1897 (1890s)
Authors: Gautier, Theophile
Subjects: Bibliotheque des chefs-d'oeuvre du roman contemporain: Realists (and) Romancists French fiction--19th century--Translations into English Limited Editions French fiction
Publisher: Philadelpha: Printed for subscribers only by G. Barrie
Contributing Library: Susquehanna University, Blough-Weis Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Lyrasis Members and Sloan Foundation

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h the narrow blushingpaths, or along the white marble terraces beside the lakein the park, were to be metamorphosed into this de-ceitful sphinx with the equivocal smile, the ambiguousvoice, before whom I stood speechless, afraid to under-take the solution of the enigma! To interpret itfalsely would have caused my death; for alas! it is theonly bond that attaches me to the world; when it isbroken, all will be over. Take that gleam of light awayfrom me and I shall be more silent and inanimate thanthe embalmed mummy of the first of the Pharaohs. Atthe moments when I felt most violently drawn towardTheodore, I threw myself back in dismay into Rosettes Chapter X$ The folding-doors slowly opened and closed. There was a general cry of admiration. — The menapplauded, the women turned scarlet. Rosette alonebecame extremely pale and leaned against the wall,as if a sudden revelation were passing through herbrain / * * * / have always suspected her of lovingTheodore. fieri •,- * s /..y />.
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MADEMOISELLE DE MAUPIN 129 arms, although I had an indescribable feeling of re-pulsion for her; I tried to place her between Theo-dore and myself as a shield and barrier—and when Ilay beside her, I felt a secret satisfaction in the thoughtthat she at all events was unquestionably a woman,and that, even if I did not love her, she still loved meenough to prevent our liaison from degenerating intointrigue and debauchery. I felt in my heart, however, through it all, a sort ofregret at being thus unfaithful to the idea of my impos-sible passion ; I blamed myself for it as for an act oftreachery, and although I was well aware that I shouldnever possess the object of my love, I was displeasedwith myself, and was cold to Rosette once more. The rehearsal was much more successful than Ihoped; Theodore, especially, was admirable; theothers thought that I, too, acted extremely well.—It is not that I have the essential qualities of a goodactor, and it would be a very great mistake to thinkthat

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