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The Princess of Cleves-Part24_Madame de La Fayette(1643-1693)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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the esteem I have had for you; I beg you I may be assured of this

further comfort, that my memory will be dear to you, and that if



it had been in your power you would have had for me the same

passion which you had for another." He would have gone on, but



was so weak that his speech failed him. Madam de Cleves sent for

the physicians, who found him almost lifeless; yet he languished



some days, and died at last with admirable constancy.

Madam de Cleves was afflicted to so violent a degree, that she



lost in a manner the use of her reason; the Queen was so kind as

to come to see her, and carried her to a convent without her



being sensible whither she was conducted; her sisters-in-law

brought her back to Paris, before she was in a condition to feel



distinctly even her griefs: when she was restored to her faculty

of thinking, and reflected what a husband she had lost, and



considered that she had caused his death by the passion which she

had for another, the horror she had for herself and the Duke de



Nemours was not to be expressed.

The Duke in the beginning of her mourning durst pay her no other



respects but such as decency required; he knew Madam de Cleves

enough to be sensible that great importunities and eagerness



would be disagreeable to her; but what he learned afterwards

plainlyconvinced him that he ought to observe the same conduct a



great while longer.

A servant of the Duke's informed him that Monsieur de Cleves's



gentleman, who was his intimate friend, had told him, in the

excess of his grief for the loss of his master, that Monsieur de



Nemours's journey to Colomiers was the occasion of his death.

The Duke was extremely surprised to hear this; but after having



reflected upon it, he guessed the truth in part, and rightly

judged what Madam de Cleves's sentiments would be at first, and



what a distance it would throw him from her, if she thought her

husband's illness was occasioned by his jealousy; he was of



opinion that he ought not so much as to put her in mind of his

name very soon, and he abided by that conduct, however severe it



appeared to him.

He took a journey to Paris, nor could he forbearcalling at her



house to enquire how she did. He was told, that she saw nobody,

and that she had even given strict orders that they should not



trouble her with an account of any that might come to see her;

those very strict orders, perhaps, were given with a view to the



Duke, and to prevent her hearing him spoken of; but he was too

much in love to be able to live so absolutely deprived of the



sight of Madam de Cleves; he resolved to find the means, let the

difficulty be what it would, to get out of a condition which was



so insupportable to him.

The grief of that Princess exceeded the bounds of reason; a



husband dying, and dying on her account, and with so much

tenderness for her, never went out of her mind: she continually



revolved in her thoughts what she owed him, and she condemned

herself for not having had a passion for him, as if that had been



a thing which depended on herself; she found no consolation but

in the thought that she lamented him as he deserved to be



lamented, and that she would do nothing during the remainder of

her life, but what he would have been glad she should have done,



had he lived.

She had often been thinking how he came to know, that the Duke de



Nemours had been at Colomiers; she could not suspect that the

Duke himself had told it; though it was indifferent to her



whether he had or no, she thought herself so perfectly cured of

the passion she had had for him; and yet she was grieved at the



heart to think that he was the cause of her husband's death; and

she remembered with pain the fear Monsieur de Cleves expressed,



when dying, lest she should marry the Duke; but all these griefs

were swallowed up in that for the loss of her husband, and she



thought she had no other but that one.

After several months the violence of her grief abated, and she



fell into a languishing kind of melancholy. Madam de Martigues




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