Chapter 36 Chapter 6 The tone of speech

Julien had not yet committed any great follies for a man who had just arrived, but whose pride had never bothered to ask him.One day, in the Rue Saint-Honoré, a torrential rain drove him into a café.A tall man in a beaver frock coat, surprised by Lien's gloomy gaze, looked at him exactly as Miss Amanda's lover had once been at Besançon. Julien, who often reproached himself for letting go of the first insult, could not bear this look.He asked for an explanation.Immediately the man in frock hurls the foulest abuse at him: the cafe crowds round him, and passers-by stop at the door.Out of provincial prudence, Julien always carried two small pistols with him; he held them in his pockets, trembling.But he was very cautious, just kept saying to the man: "Sir, your address? I despise you."

He kept repeating these words, and finally moved the onlookers. "Hey! That guy who only yells at one person should give him his address." The man in the suit threw five or six business cards over his head and face when he heard him repeat.Fortunately, none of them touched his face, and he had sworn that he would not touch his face with his gun.The man left, turning around from time to time, threatening him with his fists and scolding him. Julien was sweating profusely. "The meanest man, then, can excite me to such an extent!" he said to himself, furiously, "how can one overcome such a shameful sensitivity?"

Where to find witnesses?He doesn't have a single friend.He knew a few people, but they all left without exception after six weeks of dating. "I'm a difficult man, and look, I've been cruelly punished," he thought.Finally, he thought of finding a former lieutenant of the 96th Regiment named Levan, a poor fellow who often practiced shooting with him.Julien treated him with sincerity. "I am willing to be your witness," said Levin, "on one condition: if you cannot injure the man, you will fight me on the spot." "It's settled," said Julien, gladly; and they went to the center of the Saint-Germain district to find M. Chaud de Boissy at the address given on their cards.

It was seven o'clock in the morning.After being notified, it occurred to Julien that this person might be a young relative of Mrs. Ide Renal, who used to work in the embassy in Rome or Naples, and had written a letter of introduction to the singer Jerónimo. Julien took one of the calling cards thrown to him the day before, and his own, and handed them to a tall footman. He and his witnesses waited three quarters of an hour before they were ushered into a room of admirable elegance.What they saw was a tall young man dressed like a doll; his features had the perfection and emptiness of a Greek beauty.His head was strangely long and narrow, crowned by a pyramid of the most beautiful blond comb.The hair was curled with extreme care so that none of it stuck out. "Just to curl your hair like this," thought the lieutenant of the 96th regiment, "this damned dandy is keeping us waiting." Colorful nightgowns, morning trousers, everything, even embroidered slippers, were appropriate. Well-groomed and meticulously tidied up.His features were dignified and expressionless, revealing a well-proportioned but uncommon mind: typical of an affable man, abhorring insult and jest, and dignified.

The lieutenant of the Ninety-sixth Regiment told Lien that he had been offended again by making him wait so long after throwing the card roughly in his face.Julien burst into M. de Boissy's room, trying to appear a rebellious Xiangzi, but he also wanted to appear well-bred. He was astonished at the sight of M. de Boissy's suave demeanor, his reserved manner, his haughty self-satisfaction, surrounded by admirable refinement, and the notion of unruliness vanished for a moment.This is not the man he saw yesterday.It was not the brute in the café he had met, but a man so remarkable that he was so startled that he was speechless.He handed over a business card that had been thrown to him yesterday.

"It is my name," said the fashionable man, whom Julien's black suit had attracted little respect for since seven o'clock in the morning; "but I don't understand, and on my honor..." The tone of these last words aroused Julien's anger again. "I have come to fight you, sir," and then he told the whole story in one breath. M. Charles de Boissy, at last matured, was quite satisfied with the cut of Lien's black suit. "It's Staub's job, that's clear," he thought, listening, "very nice-looking vest, and boots; but, on the other hand, a black suit so early in the morning!  … Probably to dodge bullets better," thought Chevalier de Boissy.

Immediately after hearing the explanation, he resumed his polite manner and treated Julien almost as an equal.The discussion was long and delicate; but Julien could not ignore the facts.The young man of such noble birth before him bears no resemblance to the brute who had insulted him yesterday. Julien was really unwilling to leave like this, and there was no end to the explanation.He noticed the complacency of the Chevalier de Boissy, as he called himself, and was surprised that Lien called him Monsieur. Julien admired his dignity, which, though mixed with a certain controlled pretentiousness, was never without it.Julien was amazed by the way he moved his tongue when he spoke... But in all this, at any rate, there was not the slightest reason to quarrel with him.

The young diplomat graciously proposed a duel, while the former lieutenant of the Ninety-sixth regiment, sitting for an hour with his legs apart, his elbows out, his hands on his lap, decided that his friend M. Sorel Not the kind of person who would make trouble with a person just because someone stole his business card. Julien left, resentful.The Chevalier de Boissy's carriage was waiting for him at the stone steps in the courtyard, and Julien chanced to raise his eyes and recognized the driver as the man of yesterday. Seeing him, grabbing him by his loose overcoat, wrestling him from his seat, and whipping him hard with the riding whip was but a matter of seconds.The two servants tried to protect their companions, and Julien received several blows, and at the same moment he loaded his pistol and shot at them; they fled.It's all just a matter of a minute.

The Chevalier de Boissy descended the steps with the most comical dignity, asking incessantly in his nobleman's voice: "What is the matter? What is the matter?" He was evidently curious, but diplomatic arrogance forbade him to show more interest.When he knew what was going on, he still hovered between a haughty expression and that ridiculous composure that should never leave a diplomat's face. The lieutenant of the Ninety-sixth regiment understood that M. de Boissy wanted a duel, and he also wanted to reserve the right of priority for his friend to initiate a duel. "There's reason for a duel now!" he cried. "I think it's enough," the diplomat added.

"I will drive away this scoundrel," he said to the servants, "and get into the carriage alone." The door opened, and the knight wanted Julien and Julien's witnesses to get into his carriage anyway.They went to a friend of M. de Boissy, who told him there was a solitary place.Talking and laughing along the way is really good.It is strange that the diplomat is still wearing a nightgown. "Great as these gentlemen are," thought Julien, "they are not at all dull like those who dine at M. de La Mole's, and I can see why," thought after a while, "They dared to do something unseemly." They were talking about the popular actress in yesterday's ballet.They alluded to some provocative anecdotes of which Julien and his witness, the lieutenant of the 96th regiment, knew nothing.Julien was not stupid at all, he pretended not to know, and he readily admitted his ignorance.This frankness pleased the knight's friend, and he related the anecdotes to him at length and with great amusement.

One thing surprised Julien.In the middle of the street an altar was being erected for the Eucharist, and the car stopped for a while.The two gentlemen went so far as to joke that the curate was the son of an archbishop.No one in the house of the Marquis de La Mole, would-be duke, would ever have dared to say such things. The duel was over in a moment, Julien was shot in the arm; they bandaged him with handkerchiefs soaked in liquor, and the Chevalier de Boissy politely asked Julien to allow him to use the carriage in which he had come. send him back.When Julien mentioned the House of La Mole, the young diplomat and his friend exchanged glances.Julien's car was there, but he found the conversation of the two gentlemen much more interesting than that of the good lieutenant of the 96th regiment. "My God! A duel, that's it!" thought Julien. "I'm so glad I've found the coachman! How unfortunate it would be if I had to suffer the insults I received in the café!" Interesting talk almost without interruption.Julien now understood that there was something to be said for diplomatic affectation. "So, conversation between highborn people doesn't have to be boring!" he thought. "These two joke about the Eucharist, and dare to tell very obscene anecdotes, and they show every detail and vividly. What they lack is absolute." Mere talk of political affairs, and what is lacking is more than made up for by elegance of tone and exactness of expression." Julien felt a passionate admiration for them. "How happy I should be to see them often!" As soon as they parted, Chevalier de Boisy made inquiries everywhere: it turned out that the situation was not very good. He would like to get to know his opponent, will he pay him a respectable visit?The circumstances available to him are rare and not encouraging in nature. "It's all fake!" he told the witness. "It is impossible for me to admit that I have fought a duel with an ordinary secretary of M. de La Mole, and that my card has been stolen by my coachman." "There's definitely a chance this thing could become a laughingstock." That evening the Chevalier de Boissy and his friends went around saying that this M. Sorel was a perfect young man, the illegitimate son of a close friend of the Marquis de La Mole.The story spread without difficulty.Once everyone believed it to be true, the young diplomat and his friend Fonken visited him several times, and Julien spent the fortnight in his bedroom.Julien admitted to them that he had been to the opera only once in his life. "It's terrible," they said to him, "that's the only place people go to now; the first time you go out, it's supposed to be to see The Count of Orly." At the Opera, Chevalier de Boissy introduced him to Jerome, a famous singer who was gaining popularity at the time. Julien was almost on the verge of ingratiating himself to the knight, and the mixture of self-respect, mysterious arrogance and youthful pretension fascinated Julien.For example, the knight stuttered a little, because a great nobleman he had the honor of seeing often had it.Julien had never seen in one person the amusing absurdity combined with that perfect manner which a poor provincial should try to imitate. He was seen at the Opera with Chevalier de Boissy, and this association brought his name up. "Well!" said M. de La Mole to him one day, "you are the illegitimate son of a rich gentleman, my close friend Franche-Comté?" The Marquis interrupted Julien, wishing to affirm that he had never contributed to this rumor. "M. de Boissy does not want to be said to have fought a duel with a carpenter's son." "I know, I know," said M. de La Mole, "that it is now up to me to make the rumour reliable and to my liking. But I would like to ask you a favor, which will only cost you a short time." For half an hour, whenever there is a performance in the opera house, you go to the lobby at half past eleven when the upper class leave. I think you sometimes behave like a provincial, and you should change it. ;and it would be nice to know some great people, at least by face, so I can get you to do business with them in the future. Go to the box office and let them recognize you; they have given you free admission .”