"She is happy," continued the comte Altamira; "she was so in 1815.
I was then in hiding at her house on her estate near the Antibes.
Well the moment she learnt of marshall Ney's execution she began to dance."
"Is it possible?" said Julien, thunderstruck.
"It's party spirit," replied Altamira.
"There are no longer any real passions in the nineteenth century: that's why one is so bored in France.
People commit acts of the greatest cruelty, but without any feeling of cruelty."
"So much the worse," said Julien, "when one does commit a crime one ought at least to take pleasure in committing it; that's the only good thing they have about them and that's the only way in which they have the slightest justification."
Mademoiselle de la Mole had entirely forgotten what she owed to herself and placed herself completely between Altamira and Julien.
Her brother, who was giving her his arm, and was accustomed to obey her, was looking at another part of the room, and in order to keep himself in countenance was pretending to be stopped by the crowd.
"You are right," Altamira went on, "one takes pleasure in nothing one does, and one does not remember it: this applies even to crimes.
I can show you perhaps ten men in this ballroom who have been convicted of murder.
They have forgotten all about it and everybody else as well."
"Many are moved to the point of tears if their dog breaks a paw.
When you throw flowers on their grave at Pere-la-Chaise, as you say so humorously in Paris, we learn they united all the virtues of the knights of chivalry, and we speak about the noble feats of their great-grandfather who lived in the reign of Henri IV.
If, in spite of the good offices of the Prince de Araceli, I escape hanging and I ever manage to enjoy the use of my money in Paris, I will get you to dine with eight or ten of these respected and callous murderers.
"At that dinner you and I will be the only ones whose blood is pure, but I shall be despised and almost hated as a monster, while you will be simply despised as a man of the people who has pushed his way into good society."
"Nothing could be truer," said mademoiselle de la Mole.
Altamira looked at her in astonishment; but Julien did not deign to look at her.
"Observe that the revolution, at whose head I found myself," continued the comte Altamira, "only failed for the one reason that I would not cut off three heads and distribute among our partisans seven or eight millions which happened to be in a box of which I happened to have the key.
My king, who is burning to have me hanged to-day, and who called me by my christian name before the rebellion, would have given me the great ribbon of his order if I had had those three heads cut off and had had the money in those boxes distributed; for I should have had at least a semi-success and my country would have had a charta like ——. So wags the world; it's a game of chess."
"At that time," answered Julien with a fiery eye, "you did not know the game; now...."
"You mean I would have the heads cut off, and I would not be a Girondin, as you said I was the other day?
I will give you your answer," said Altamira sadly, "when you have killed a man in a duel—a far less ugly matter than having him put to death by an executioner."
"Upon my word," said Julien, "the end justifies the means.
If instead of being an insignificant man I had some power I would have three men hanged in order to save four men's lives."
His eyes expressed the fire of his own conscience; they met the eyes of mademoiselle de la Mole who was close by him, and their contempt, so far from changing into politeness seemed to redouble.
She was deeply shocked; but she found herself unable to forget Julien; she dragged her brother away and went off in a temper.
"I must take some punch and dance a lot," she said to herself.
"I will pick out the best partner and cut some figure at any price.
Good, there is that celebrated cynic, the comte de Fervaques."
She accepted his invitation; they danced.
"The question is," she thought, "which of us two will be the more impertinent, but in order to make absolute fun of him, I must get him to talk."
Soon all the other members of the quadrille were dancing as a matter of formality, they did not want to lose any of Mathilde's cutting reparte.
M. de Fervaques felt uneasy and as he could only find elegant expressions instead of ideas, began to scowl.
Mathilde, who was in a bad temper was cruel, and made an enemy of him.
She danced till daylight and then went home terribly tired.
But when she was in the carriage the little vitality she had left, was still employed in making her sad and unhappy.
She had been despised by Julien and could not despise him.
Julien was at the zenith of his happiness.
He was enchanted without his knowing it by the music, the flowers, the pretty women, the general elegance, and above all by his own imagination which dreamt of distinctions for himself and of liberty for all.
"What a fine ball," he said to the comte.
"Nothing is lacking."
"Thought is lacking" answered Altamira, and his face betrayed that contempt which is only more deadly from the very fact that a manifest effort is being made to hide it as a matter of politeness.
"You are right, monsieur the comte, there isn't any thought at all, let alone enough to make a conspiracy."
"I am here because of my name, but thought is hated in your salons. Thought must not soar above the level of the point of a Vaudeville couplet: it is then rewarded.
But as for your man who thinks, if he shows energy and originality we call him a cynic.
Was not that name given by one of your judges to Courier.
You put him in prison as well as Beranger.
The priestly congregation hands over to the police everyone who is worth anything amongst you individually; and good society applauds.