Free Cousin Bette by Honore Balzac

Bette’s fancy had been greatly taken by the wraps that she had seen in Paris, and she had been fascinated by the prospect of possessing the yellow shawl, which the Baron had given to his wife in 1808, and which, in 1830, had passed from mother to daughter, in accordance with the custom in some families. The shawl had become somewhat the worse for wear in the past ten years’ use, but the precious web, always kept in a sandal-wood box, seemed, like the Baroness’s furniture, unalterably new to the old maid’s eyes. So she had brought a present in her reticule that she intended to give the Baroness for her birthday, and that she considered convincing proof of the legendary lover’s existence.
    The present consisted of a silver seal composed of three figures wreathed in foliage, standing back to back and bearing the globe aloft. The three figures represented Faith, Hope, and Charity. Their feet rested on snarling snapping monsters, among which the symbolic serpent writhed. In 1846, after the tremendous impetus given to Benvenuto Cellini’s art by the work of Mademoiselle de Faveau and such artists as Wagner, Jeanest, Froment-Meurice, and wood-carvers like Liénard, this fine piece of work would surprise no one, but at that time a girl with some interest in jewellery could hardly fail to be impressed as she examined the seal, which Cousin Bette handed to her with the words: ‘Here, what do you think of this?’
    The figures, with their flowing draperies, had the composition and rhythm of the style of Raphael. In execution they suggested the Florentine school of workers in bronze created by Donatello, Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, Benvenuto Cellini, John of Bologna, and their peers. The French Renaissance had produced no more fantastic whimsical monsters than those symbolizing the evil passions. The palms, ferns, rushes, reeds, springing up around the Virtues showed a virtuosity, and a style and taste, that expert craftsmen might despair of rivalling. A ribbon twined among the three heads, and where it appeared between them displayed a W, a chamois, and the word
fecit
.
    â€˜Who can have made this?’ Hortense asked.
    â€˜My sweetheart, of course,’ Cousin Bette replied. ‘there are ten months of work in it. I earn more by making sword-knots. He told me that Steinbock means creature of the rocks or chamois, in German. He intends to sign everything he makes like this… Ah! your shawl is mine!’
    â€˜Just tell me why.’
    â€˜Could I buy a thing like this? Or commission it? Impossible – so it must have been given to me. Who would give such a present? Why, only a sweetheart!’
    Hortense, with a lack of candour that would have alarmed Lisbeth if she had perceived it, carefully refrained from expressing all her admiration, although she experienced the thrill that people sensitive to beauty feel when they see a masterpiece: faultless, complete, and unexpected.
    â€˜Certainly,’ she said, ‘it’s very pretty.’
    â€˜Yes, it’s pretty,’ answered the old maid; ‘but I would rather have an orange shawl. Well, my dear, my sweetheart spends his time working at things like this. Since he came to Paris he has made three or four trinkets of the same sort, and that’s the fruit of four years’ study and work. He has been serving an apprenticeship with founders, moulders, jewellers.… Bah! a mint of money has gone on it all. The young man tells me that in only a few months, now, he will be rich and famous.’
    â€˜So you do really see him?’
    â€˜Well, do you think I’m inventing all this? I was laughing, but I told you the truth.’
    â€˜And he loves you?’ Hortense asked, with intense interest.
    â€˜He adores me!’ her cousin replied solemnly. ‘You see, my dear, he has only known insipid, die-away women; they’re all like that in the north. A young, dark, slender girl, like me, soon warmed the