第47章 Chapter 10(5)

The complexion is olive,quite without colour;the hair,black and glossy,divided with evident care and twisted back into a knot behind the head,and she wore no covering to it.Some of the portraits represent her in ringlets,and ringlets would be much more becoming to the style of face,I fancy,for the cheeks are rather over-full.She was dressed in a sort of woollen grey gown,with a jacket of the same material (according to the ruling fashion),the gown fastened up to the throat,with a small linen collarette,and plain white muslin sleeves buttoned round the wrists.The hands offered to me were small and well-shaped.

Her manners were quite as simple as her costume.I never saw a simpler woman.

Not a shade of affectation or consciousness,even --not a suffusion of coquetry,not a cigarette to be seen!

Two or three young men were sitting with her,and I observed the profound respect with which they listened to every word she said.

She spoke rapidly,with a low,unemphatic voice.Repose of manner is much more her characteristic than animation is --only,under all the quietness,and perhaps by means of it,you are aware of an intense burning soul.She kissed me again when we went away....'

'April 7.--George Sand we came to know a great deal more of.

I think Robert saw her six times.Once he met her near the Tuileries,offered her his arm and walked with her the whole length of the gardens.

She was not on that occasion looking as well as usual,being a little too much "endimanchee"in terrestrial lavenders and super-celestial blues --not,in fact,dressed with the remarkable taste which he has seen in her at other times.Her usual costume is both pretty and quiet,and the fashionable waistcoat and jacket (which are aspectable (?)in all the "Ladies'Companions"of the day)make the only approach to masculine wearings to be observed in her.

'She has great nicety and refinement in her personal ways,I think --and the cigarette is really a feminine weapon if properly understood.

'Ah!but I didn't see her smoke.I was unfortunate.I could only go with Robert three times to her house,and once she was out.

He was really very good and kind to let me go at all after he found the sort of society rampant around her.He didn't like it extremely,but being the prince of husbands,he was lenient to my desires,and yielded the point.She seems to live in the abomination of desolation,as far as regards society --crowds of ill-bred men who adore her,'a genoux bas',betwixt a puff of smoke and an ejection of saliva --society of the ragged red,diluted with the low theatrical.

She herself so different,so apart,so alone in her melancholy disdain.

I was deeply interested in that poor woman.I felt a profound compassion for her.I did not mind much even the Greek,in Greek costume,who 'tutoyed'her,and kissed her I believe,so Robert said --or the other vulgar man of the theatre,who went down on his knees and called her "sublime"."Caprice d'amitie,"said she with her quiet,gentle scorn.A noble woman under the mud,be certain.

_I_would kneel down to her,too,if she would leave it all,throw it off,and be herself as God made her.But she would not care for my kneeling --she does not care for me.Perhaps she doesn't care much for anybody by this time,who knows?She wrote one or two or three kind notes to me,and promised to 'venir m'embrasser'before she left Paris,but she did not come.We both tried hard to please her,and she told a friend of ours that she "liked us".Only we always felt that we couldn't penetrate --couldn't really TOUCH her --it was all vain.

'Alfred de Musset was to have been at M.Buloz'where Robert was a week ago,on purpose to meet him,but he was prevented in some way.

His brother,Paul de Musset,a very different person,was there instead,but we hope to have Alfred on another occasion.Do you know his poems?

He is not capable of large grasps,but he has poet's life and blood in him,I assure you....We are expecting a visit from Lamartine,who does a great deal of honour to both of us in the way of appreciation,and was kind enough to propose to come.I will tell you all about it.'

Mr.Browning fully shared his wife's impression of a want of frank cordiality on George Sand's part;and was especially struck by it in reference to himself,with whom it seemed more natural that she should feel at ease.

He could only imagine that his studied courtesy towards her was felt by her as a rebuke to the latitude which she granted to other men.

Another eminent French writer whom he much wished to know was Victor Hugo,and I am told that for years he carried about him a letter of introduction from Lord Houghton,always hoping for an opportunity of presenting it.

The hope was not fulfilled,though,in 1866,Mr.Browning crossed to Saint Malo by the Channel Islands and spent three days in Jersey.