region of the roof, was the inevitable decoration of this
studio. There was a shelf all round the room, supporting
plaster casts which lay there in confusion, most of them
tinder a coating of whitish dust.
Above this shelf here and there a head of Niobe hanging
to a nail showed its pathetic bend, a Venus smiled, a hand
was unexpectedly thrust out before your eyes, like a beggar's
asking alms; then there were anatomical 6corch6s, yellow with
smoke, and looking like limbs snatched from coffins; and pic-
tures, drawings, lay-figures, frames without canvas, and can-
vases without frames, completed the effect, giving the room
the characteristic aspect of a studio, a singular mixture of
ornamentation and bareness, of poverty and splendor, of care
and neglect.
This huge sort of hold, in which everything, even man,
looks small, has a behind-the-scenes flavor; here are to be
seen old linen, gilt armor, odds and ends of stuffs, and some
machinery. But there is something about it as grand as
thought: genius and death are there; Diana and Apollo side
by side with a skull or a skeleton ; beauty and disorder, po-
etry and reality, gorgeous coloring in shadow, and often a
whole drama, but motionless and silent. How symbolical
of the artist brain!
At the moment when my story begins the bright sun of
July lighted up the studio, and two beams of sunshine shot
THE VENDETTA 191
across its depths, broad bands of diaphanous gold in which
the dust-motes glistened. A dozen easels raised their pointed
spars, looking like the masts of vessels in a harbor. Several
young girls gave life to the scene by the variety of their
countenances and attitudes, and the difference in their dress.
The strong shadows cast by the green baize blinds, arranged
to suit the position of each easel, produced a multitude of
contrasts and fascinating effects of clare-obscure.
This group of girls formed the most attractive picture in
the gallery. A fair-haired girl, simply dressed, stood at some
distance from her companions, working perseveringly and
seeming to foresee misfortune; no one looked at her nor
spoke to her; she was the prettiest, the most modest, and
the least rich. Two principal groups, divided by a little
space, represented two classes of society, two spirits, even
in this studio, where rank and fortune ought to have been
forgotten.
These young things, sitting or standing, surrounded by
their paint-boxes, playing with their brushes or getting them
ready, handling their bright-tinted palettes, painting, chat-
tering, laughing, singing, given up to their natural impulses
and revealing their true characters, made up a drama un-
known to men; this one proud, haughty, capricious, with
black hair and beautiful hands, flashed the fire of her eyes
at random; that one, light-hearted and heedless, a smile on
her lips, her hair chestnut, with delicate white hands, vir-
ginal and French, a light nature without a thought of evil,
living from hour to hour; another, dreamy, melancholy, pale,
her head drooping like a falling blossom: her neighbor, on
the contrary, tall, indolent, with Oriental manners, and long,
black, melting eyes, speaking little, but lost in thought, and
stealing a look at the head of Antinous.
In the midst, like the Jocoso of a Spanish comedy, a
girl, full of wit and sparkling sallies, stood watching them
all with a single glance, and making them laugh ; raising a
face so full of life that it could not but be pretty. She was
the leader of the first group oi pupils, consisting of the daugh-
192 BALZAC'S WORKS
ters of bankers, lawyers, and merchants all rich, but exposed
to all the minute but stinging disdains freely poured out upon
them by the other young girls who belonged to the aristoc-
racy. These were governed by the daughter of a gentleman
usher to the King's private chamber, a vain little thing, as
silly as she was vain, and proud of her father's having an
office at Court. She aimed at seeming to understand the
master's remarks at the first word, and appearing to work
by inspired grace; she used an eyeglass, came very much
dressed, very late, and begged her companions not to talk
loud. Among this second group might be observed some
exquisite shapes and distinguished-looking faces; but their
looks expressed but little simplicity. Though their atti-
tudes were elegant and their movements graceful, their
faces were lacking in candor, and it was easy to perceive
that they belonged to a world where politeness forms the
character at an early age, and the abuse of social pleasures
kills the feelings and develops selfishness. When the
whole party of girl students was complete there were to
be seen among them childlike heads, virgin heads of en-
chanting purity, faces where the parted lips showed virgin
teeth, and where a virgin smile came and went. Then the
studio suggested not a seraglio, but a group of angels sit-
ting on a cloud in heaven.
It was near noon; Servin had not yet made his appear-
ance. For some days past he had spent most of his time at
a studio he had elsewhere, finishing a picture he had there
for the exhibition. Suddenly Mademoiselle Ame'lie Thi-
rion, the head of the aristocrats in this little assembly,
spoke at some length to her neighbor; there was profound
silence among .the patrician group; the banker faction were
equally silent from astonishment, and tried to guess the
subject of such a conference. But the secret of the young
ultras was soon known. Amelie rose, took an easel that
stood near her, and moved it to some distance from the
"nobility," close to a clumsy partition which divided
the studio from a dark closet where broken casts were
THE VENDETTA 193
kept, paintings that the professor had condemned, and, in
winter, the firewood. Ame'lie's proceedings gave rise to a
murmur of surprise which did not hinder her from com-
pleting the removal by wheeling up to the easel a stool
and paint-box, in fact, everything, even a picture by Prud-
hon, of which a pupil, who had not yet come, was making
a copy. After this coup d'etat the party of the right painted
on in silence; but the left talked it over at great length.
"What will Mademoiselle Piombo say?" asked one of
the girls of Mademoiselle Mathilde Roguin, the oracle
of mischief of her group.
"She is not a girl to say much," was the reply. "But
fifty years hence she will remember this insult as if she had
experienced it the day before, and will find some cruel means
of revenge. She is a person I should not like to be at war
with."
"The proscription to which those ladies have condemned
her is all the more unjust," said another young girl, "be-
cause Mademoiselle Ginevra was very sad the day before
yesterday; her father, they say, has just given up his ap-
pointment. This will add to her troubles, while she was
very good to those young ladies during the Hundred Days.
Did she ever say a word that could hurt them ? On the
contrary, she avoided talking politics. But our ultras seem
to be prompted by jealousy rather than by party -spirit. "
"I have a great mind to fetch Mademoiselle Piombo's
easel and place it by mine," said Mathilde Eoguin. She
rose, but on second thoughts she sat down again. "With
a spirit like Mademoiselle Grinevra's," said she, "it is im-
possible to know how she would take our civility. Let us
wait and see."
"Eccola!" said the black-eyed girl languidly. In fact,
the sound of footsteps coming upstairs was heard in the
studio. The words, "Here she comes!" passed from mouth
to mouth, and then perfect silence fell.
To understand the full importance of the ostracism carried
into effect by Amelie Thirion, it must be told that this scene
Vol. A. BALZAC 9.
194 BALZAC'S WORKS
took place toward the end of the month of July, 1815. The
second restoration of -the Bourbons broke up many friend-
ships which had weathered the turmoil of the first. At this
time families, almost always divided among themselves, re-
newed many of the most deplorable scenes which tarnish the
history of all countries at periods of civil or religious strug-
gles. Children, young girls, old men, had caught the mon-
archical fever from which the Government was suffering.
Discord flew in under the domestic roof, and suspicion
dyed in gloomy hues the most intimate conversations and
actions.
Ginevra di Piombo idolized Napoleon; indeed, how
could she have hated him ? The Emperor was her fellow
countryman, and her father's benefactor Baron di Piombo
was one of Napoleon's followers who had most efficiently
worked to bring him back from Elba. Incapable of re-
nouncing his political faith, nay, eager to proclaim it,
Piombo had remained in Paris in the midst of enemies.
Hence Ginevra di Piombo was ranked with the " suspi-
cious characters," all the more so because she made no
secret of the regret her family felt at the second restora-
tion. The only tears she had perhaps ever shed in her
life were wrung from her by the twofold tidings of Bona-
parte's surrender on board the "Bellerophon" and the ar-
rest of Labe*doyere.
The young ladies forming the aristocratic party in the
studio belonged to the most enthusiastically Eoyalist fam-
ilies of Paris. It would be difficult to give any idea of the
exaggerated feelings of the time, and of the horror felt
toward Bonapartists. However mean and trivial Ame'lie
Thirion's conduct may seem to-day, it was then a very
natural demonstration of hatred. Ginevra di Piombo, one
of Servin's earliest pupils, had occupied the place of which
they wished to deprive her ever since the first day she had
come to the studio. The aristocratic group had gradually
settled round her ; and to turn her out of a place, which in
a certain sense belonged to her, was not merely to insult
THE VENDETTA 195
her, but to cause her some pain, for all artists have a pre-
dilection for the spot where they work.
However, political hostility had perhaps not much to
do with the conduct of this little studio party of the Right.
Ginevra di Piombo, the most accomplished of Servin's
pupils, was an object of the deepest jealousy. The master
professed an equal admiration for the talents and the char-
acter of this favorite pupil, who served as the standard of
all his comparisons ; and indeed, while it was impossible to
explain the ascendency this young girl exercised over all
who were about her, she enjoyed in this small world an in-
fluence resembling that of Bonaparte over his soldiers. The
aristocratic clique had, some days since, resolved on the over-
throw of this queen; but as no one had been bold enough to
repulse the Bonapartist, Mademoiselle Thirion had just struck
the decisive blow so as to make her companions the accom-
plices of her hatred. Though Ginevra was really beloved
by some of the Royalist party, who at home were abun-
dantly lectured on politics, with the tact peculiar to women
they judged it best not to interfere in the quarrel.
On entering, Ginevra was received in perfect silence. Of
all the girls who had yet appeared at Servin's studio, she was
the handsomest, the tallest, and the most finely made. Her
gait had a stamp of dignity and grace which commanded re-
spect. Her face, full of intelligence, seemed radiant, it was
so transfused with the animation peculiar to Corsicans, which
does not exclude calmness. Her abundant hair, her eyes,
and their black lashes told of passion. Though the cor-
ners of her mouth were softly drawn and her lips a little
too thick, they had the kindly expression which strong
people derive from the consciousness of strength. By a
singular freak of nature the charm of her features was in
some sort belied by a marble forehead stamped with an
almost savage pride, and the traditional habits of Corsica.
That was the only bond between her and her native land;
in every other detail of her person the simplicity and free-
dom of Lombard beauties were so bewitching that only in
196 BALZAC'S WORKS
her absence could any one bear to cause her the smallest
pain. She was, indeed, so attractive, that her old father,
out of prudence, never allowed her to walk alone to the
studio.
The only fault of this really poetic creature came of the
very power of such fully developed beauty. She had re-
fused to marry, out of affection for her father and mother,
feeling herself necessary to them in their old age. Her taste
for painting had taken the place of the passions which com-
monly agitate women.
"You are all very silent to-day," she said, after coming
forward a step or two. "Good-morning, my little Laure,"
she added in a gentle, caressing tone, as she went up to the
young girl who was painting apart from the rest. "That
head is very good. The flesh is a little too pink, but it is
all capitally drawn."
Laure raised her head, looked at Ginevra much touched,
and their faces brightened with an expression of mutual af-
fection. A faint smile gave life to the Italian's lips, but
she seemed pensive, and went slowly to her place, care-
lessly glancing at the drawings and pictures, and saying
good-morning to each of the girls of the first group, with-
out observing the unusual curiosity excited by her pres-
ence. She might have been a queen amid her Court. She
did not observe the deep silence that reigned among the
aristocrats, and passed their camp without saying a word.
Her absence of mind was so complete that she went to her
easel, opened her paint-box, took out her brushes, slipped
on her brown linen cuffs, tied her apron, examined her
palette, all without thinking, as it seemed, of what she was
doing. All the heads of the humbler group were turned to
look at her. And if the young ladies of the Thirion faction
were less frankly impatient than their companions, their side
glances were nevertheless directed to Ginevra.
"She notices nothing," said Mademoiselle Roguin.
At this moment Ginevra, roused from the meditative at-
titude in which she had gazed at her canvas, turned her
THE VENDETTA 197
head toward the aristocratic party. With one glance she
measured the distance that lay between them, and held her
peace.
"It has not occurred to her that they meant to insult
her," said Mathilde. "She has neither colored nor turned
pale. How provoked those young ladies will be if she
likes her new place better than the old one!" "You are
quite apart there, Mademoiselle," she added louder, and
addressing Ginevra.
The Italian girl affected not to hear, or perhaps she did
not hear; she hastily rose, walked rather slowly along the
partition which divided the dark closet from the studio,
seeming to examine the skylight from which the light
fell ; and to this she ascribed so much importance that she
got upon a chair to fasten the green baize which interfered
with the light, a good deal higher. At this elevation she
was on a level with a small crack in the boarding, the real
object of her efforts, for the look she cast through it can
only be compared with that of a miser discovering Alad-
din's treasure. She quickly descended, came back to her
place, arranged her picture, affected still to be dissatisfied
with the light, pushed a table close to the partition, and
placed a chair on it; then she nimbly mounted this scaf-
folding, and again peeped through the crack. She gave
but one look into the closet, which was lighted by a win-
dow at the top of the partition, but what she saw impressed
her so vividly that she started.
"You will fall, Mademoiselle OHnevra!" cried Laure.
All the girls turned to look at their imprudent com-
panion, who was tottering. The fear of seeing them gather
round her gave her courage ; she recovered her strength and
her balance, and dancing on the chair, she turned to Laure,
and said with some agitation:
"Bah! It is at any rate safer than a throne!"
She quickly arranged the baize, came down, pushed the
table and the chair far from the partition, returned to her
easel, and made a few more attempts, seeming to try for an
BALZAC'S WORKS
effect of light that suited her. Her picture did not really
trouble her at all; her aim was to get close to the dark
closet by which she placed herself, as she wished, at the
end near the door. Then she prepared to set her palette,
still in perfect silence. Where she now was she soon heard
more distinctly a slight noise which, on the day before, had
greatly stirred her curiosity, and sent her young imagination
wandering over a wide field of conjecture. She easily rec-
ognized it as the deep, regular breathing of the sleeping
man whom she had just now seen. Her curiosity was sat-
isfied, but she found herself burdened with an immense
responsibility. Through the crack she had caught sight
of the Imperial eagle, and on a camp bed, in the dim light,
had seen the figure of an officer of the guard. She guessed
it all. Servin was sheltering a refugee.
She now trembled lest one of her companions should
come to examine her picture, and should hear the unfortu-
nate man breathe, or heave too deep a sigh, such as had
fallen on her ear during yesterday's lesson. She resolved
to remain near the door, and trust to her wits to cheat the
tricks of fate.
"I had better remain here," thought she, "to prevent
some disaster, than leave the poor prisoner at the mercy of
some giddy prank."
This was the secret of Ginevra's apparent indifference
when she found her easel transplanted; she was secretly de-
lighted, since she had been able to satisfy her curiosity in a
natural manner; and besides, she was too much absorbed at
this moment to inquire into the reason of her exclusion.
Nothing is more mortifying to young girls, or indeed to any
one, than to see a practical joke, an insult, or a witticism fail
of its effect in consequence of the victim's contempt. It
would seem that our hatred of an enemy is increased by the
height to which he can rise above us.
Ginevra's conduct remained a riddle to all her compan-
ions. Her friends and her foes were alike surprised, for she
was allowed to have every good quality excepting forgive-
THE VENDETTA 199
ness of injuries. Though the opportunities for showing this
vice of temper had rarely been offered to Ginevra by the in-
cidents of studio life, the instances she had happened to give
of her vindictive spirit and determination had none the less
made a deep impression on her companions' minds. After
many guesses, Mademoiselle Eoguin finally regarded the
Italian's silence as evidence of a magnanimity above all
praise; and her party, inspired by her, conceived a plan to
humiliate the aristocrats of the studio. They achieved their
purpose by a fire of sarcasms directed at the pride and airs
of the party of the right.
Madame Servin's arrival put an end to this contest of
self-assertiveness. Ame'lie, with the shrewdness which is
always coupled with malice, had remarked, watched, and
wondered at the excessive absence of mind which hindered
Ginevra from hearing the keenly polite dispute of which she
was the subject. The revenge which Mademoiselle Roguin
and her followers were wreaking on Mademoiselle Thirion
and her party had thus the fatal effect of setting the young
Ultras to discover the cause of Ginevra's absorbed silence.
The beautiful Italian became the centre of observation, and
was watched by her friends as much as by her enemies. It
is very difficult to hide the slightest excitement, the most
trifling feeling, from fifteen idle and inquisitive girls whose
mischief and wits crave only for secrets to guess, and in-
trigues to plot or to baffle, and who can ascribe to a gesture,
to a glance, to a word, so many meanings, that they can
hardly fail to discover the true one. Thus Ginevra di
Piombo's secret was in great peril of being found out.
At this moment Madame Servin's presence produced a
diversion in the drama that was being obscurely played at
the bottom of these young hearts; while its sentiments, its
ideas, its development, were expressed by almost allegorical
words, by significant looks, by gestures, and even by silence,
often more emphatic than speech.
The moment Madame Servin came into the studio her eyes
turned to the door by which Ginevra was standing. Under
200 BALZAC'S WORKS
the present circumstances this look was not lost. If at first
none of the maidens observed it, Mademoiselle Thirion re-
membered it afterward, and accounted for the suspiciousness,
the alarn, and mystery which gave a hunted expression to
Madame Servin's eyes.
"Mesdemoiselles," she said, "Monsieur Servin cannot
come to-day." Then she paid some little compliment to
each pupil, all of them welcoming her in the girlish, ca-
ressing way which lies as much in the voice and eyes as in
actions. She immediately went to Ginevra under an impulse
of uneasiness which she vainly tried to conceal. The Ital-
ian and the painter's wife exchanged friendly nods, and then
stood in silence, one painting, the other watching her paint.
The officer's breathing was easily audible, but Madame Servin
could take no notice of it; and her dissimulation was so com-
plete that Giuevra was tempted to accuse her of wilful deaf-
ness. At this moment the stranger turned on the bed. The
Italian girl looked Madame Servin steadily in the face, and,
without betraying the smallest agitation, the lady said, "Your
copy is as fine as the original. If I had to choose, I should
really be puzzled. ' '
"Monsieur Servin has not let his wife into the secret of
this mystery," thought Ginevra, who, after answering the
young wife with a gentle smile of incredulity, sang a snatch
of some national canzonetta to cover any sounds the prisoner
might make.
It was so unusual to hear the studious Italian sing that
all the girls looked at her in surprise. Later this incident
served as evidence to the charitable suppositions of hatred.
Madame Servin soon went away, and the hours of study
ended without further event. Ginevra let all her compan-
ions leave, affecting to work on; but she unconsciously be-
trayed her wish to be alone, for as the pupils made ready to
go she looked at them with ill- disguised impatience. Mad-
emoiselle Thirion, who within these few hours had become
a cruel foe to the young girl, who was her superior in every-
thing, guessed by the instinct of hatred that her rival's
THE VENDETTA 201
affected industry covered a mystery. She had been struck
more than once by the attention with which Ginevra seemed
to be listening to a sound no one else could hear. The ex-
pression she now read in the Italian's eyes was as a flash of
illumination. She was the last to leave, and went in on her
way down to see Madame Servin, with whom she stayed a
few minutes. Then, pretending that she had forgotten her
bag, she very softly went upstairs again to the studio, and
discovered Grinevra at the top of a hastily constructed scaf-
folding, so lost in contemplation of the unknown soldier that
she did not hear the light sound of her companion's footsteps.
It is true that Amelie walked on eggs to use a phrase of
Walter Scott's; she retired to the door and coughed. Gi-
nevra started, turned her head, saw her enemy, and colored;
then she quickly untied the blind, to mislead her as to her
purpose, and came down. After putting away her paint-
box, she left the studio, carrying stamped upon her heart
the image of a man's head as charming as the Endymidn,
Girodet's masterpiece, which she had copied a few days
previously.
"So young a man, and proscribed I Who can he be?
for it is not Marshal Ney. "
These two sentences are the simplest expression of all
the ideas which Ginevra turned over in her mind during two
days. The next day but one, notwithstanding her hurry to
be first at the painting gallery, she found that Mademoiselle
Thirion had already come in a carriage. Ginevra and her
enemy watched each other for some time, but each kept her
countenance impenetrable by the other. Ame'lie had seen
the stranger's handsome face; but happily, and at the same
time unhappily, the eagles and the uniform were not within
the range of her eye through the crack. She lost herself in con-
jecture. Suddenly Servin came in, much earlier than usual.
"Mademoiselle Ginevra," said he, after casting an eye
round the gallery, "why have you placed yourself there?
The light is bad. Come nearer to these young ladies, and
lower your blind a little."
202 BALZAC'S WORKS
Then he sat down by Laure, whose work deserved his
most lenient criticism.
"Well done!" he exclaimed, "this head is capitally done.
You will be a second Ginevra. "
The master went from easel to easel, blaming, flattering,
and jesting; and making himself, as usual, more feared for