"Instead of feeling--as I really was,socially speaking--an insect in the presence of an eagle,"the narrator went on after a pause,"I felt I know not what indefinable impression from the Count's appearance,which,however,I can now account for.Artists of genius"(and he bowed gracefully to the Ambassador,the distinguished lady,and the two Frenchmen),"real statesmen,poets,a general who has commanded armies--in short,all really great minds are simple,and their simplicity places you on a level with themselves.--You who are all of superior minds,"he said,addressing his guests,"have perhaps observed how feeling can bridge over the distances created by society.
If we are inferior to you in intellect,we can be your equals in devoted friendship.By the temperature--allow me the word--of our hearts I felt myself as near my patron as I was far below him in rank.
In short,the soul has its clairvoyance;it has presentiments of suffering,grief,joy,antagonism,or hatred in others.
"I vaguely discerned the symptoms of a mystery,from recognizing in the Count the same effects of physiognomy as I had observed in my uncle.The exercise of virtue,serenity of conscience,and purity of mind had transfigured my uncle,who from being ugly had become quite beautiful.I detected a metamorphosis of a reverse kind in the Count's face;at the first glance I thought he was about fifty-five,but after an attentive examination I found youth entombed under the ice of a great sorrow,under the fatigue of persistent study,under the glowing hues of some suppressed passion.At a word from my uncle the Count's eyes recovered for a moment the softness of the periwinkle flower,and he had an admiring smile,which revealed what I believed to be his real age,about forty.These observations I made,not then but afterwards,as I recalled the circumstances of my visit.
"The man-servant came in carrying a tray with his master's breakfast on it.
"'I did not ask for breakfast,'remarked the Count;'but leave it,and show monsieur to his rooms.'
"I followed the servant,who led the way to a complete set of pretty rooms,under a terrace,between the great courtyard and the servants'
quarters,over a corridor of communication between the kitchens and the grand staircase.When I returned to the Count's study,Ioverheard,before opening the door,my uncle pronouncing this judgment on me:
"'He may do wrong,for he has strong feelings,and we are all liable to honorable mistakes;but he has no vices.'
"'Well,'said the Count,with a kindly look,'do you like yourself there?Tell me.There are so many rooms in this barrack that,if you were not comfortable,I could put you elsewhere.'
"'At my uncle's I had but one room,'replied I.
"'Well,you can settle yourself this evening,'said the Count,'for your possessions,no doubt,are such as all students own,and a hackney coach will be enough to convey them.To-day we will all three dine together,'and he looked at my uncle.
"A splendid library opened from the Count's study,and he took us in there,showing me a pretty little recess decorated with paintings,which had formerly served,no doubt,as an oratory.
"'This is your cell,'said he.'You will sit there when you have to work with me,for you will not be tethered by a chain;'and he explained in detail the kind and duration of my employment with him.
As I listened I felt that he was a great political teacher.
"It took me about a month to familiarize myself with people and things,to learn the duties of my new office,and accustom myself to the Count's methods.A secretary necessarily watches the man who makes use of him.That man's tastes,passions,temper,and manias become the subject of involuntary study.The union of their two minds is at once more and less than a marriage.
"During these months the Count and I reciprocally studied each other.
I learned with astonishment that Comte Octave was but thirty-seven years old.The merely superficial peacefulness of his life and the propriety of his conduct were the outcome not solely of a deep sense of duty and of stoical reflection;in my constant intercourse with this man--an extraordinary man to those who knew him well--I felt vast depths beneath his toil,beneath his acts of politeness,his mask of benignity,his assumption of resignation,which so closely resembled calmness that it is easy to mistake it.Just as when walking through forest-lands certain soils give forth under our feet a sound which enables us to guess whether they are dense masses of stone or a void;so intense egoism,though hidden under the flowers of politeness,and subterranean caverns eaten out by sorrow sound hollow under the constant touch of familiar life.It was sorrow and not despondency that dwelt in that really great soul.The Count had understood that actions,deeds,are the supreme law of social man.And he went on his way in spite of secret wounds,looking to the future with a tranquil eye,like a martyr full of faith.
