A　Daughter　of　Eve
  by　Honore　de　Balzac
  Translated　by　Katharine　Prescott　Wormeley
  DEDICATION
  To　Madame　la　Comtesse　Bolognini；　nee　Vimercati。
  If　you　remember；　madame；　the　pleasure　your　conversation　gave　to　a
  traveller　by　recalling　Paris　to　his　memory　in　Milan；　you　will　not
  be　surprised　to　find　him　testifying　his　gratitude　for　many
  pleasant　evenings　passed　beside　you　by　laying　one　of　his　works　at
  your　feet；　and　begging　you　to　protect　it　with　your　name；　as　in
  former　days　that　name　protected　the　tales　of　an　ancient　writer
  dear　to　the　Milanese。
  You　have　an　Eugenie；　already　beautiful；　whose　intelligent　smile
  gives　promise　that　she　has　inherited　from　you　the　most　precious
  gifts　of　womanhood；　and　who　will　certainly　enjoy　during　her
  childhood　and　youth　all　those　happinesses　which　a　rigid　mother
  denied　to　the　Eugenie　of　these　pages。　Though　Frenchmen　are　taxed
  with　inconstancy；　you　will　find　me　Italian　in　faithfulness　and
  memory。　While　writing　the　name　of　〃Eugenie；〃　my　thoughts　have
  often　led　me　back　to　that　cool　stuccoed　salon　and　little　garden　in
  the　Vicolo　dei　Cappucini；　which　echoed　to　the　laughter　of　that
  dear　child；　to　our　sportive　quarrels　and　our　chatter。　But　you　have
  left　the　Corso　for　the　Tre　Monasteri；　and　I　know　not　how　you　are
  placed　there；　consequently；　I　am　forced　to　think　of　you；　not　among
  the　charming　things　with　which　no　doubt　you　have　surrounded
  yourself；　but　like　one　of　those　fine　figures　due　to　Raffaelle；
  Titian；　Correggio；　Allori；　which　seem　abstractions；　so　distant　are
  they　from　our　daily　lives。
  If　this　book　should　wing　its　way　across　the　Alps；　it　will　prove　to
  you　the　lively　gratitude　and　respectful　friendship　of
  Your　devoted　servant；
  De　Balzac。
  A　DAUGHTER　OF　EVE
  CHAPTER　I
  THE　TWO　MARIES
  In　one　of　the　finest　houses　of　the　rue　Neuve…des…Mathurins；　at　half…
  past　eleven　at　night；　two　young　women　were　sitting　before　the
  fireplace　of　a　boudoir　hung　with　blue　velvet　of　that　tender　shade；
  with　shimmering　reflections；　which　French　industry　has　lately　learned
  to　fabricate。　Over　the　doors　and　windows　were　draped　soft　folds　of
  blue　cashmere；　the　tint　of　the　hangings；　the　work　of　one　of　those
  upholsterers　who　have　just　missed　being　artists。　A　silver　lamp　studded
  with　turquoise；　and　suspended　by　chains　of　beautiful　workmanship；　hung
  from　the　centre　of　the　ceiling。　The　same　system　of　decoration　was
  followed　in　the　smallest　details；　and　even　to　the　ceiling　of　fluted
  blue　silk；　with　long　bands　of　white　cashmere　falling　at　equal
  distances　on　the　hangings；　where　they　were　caught　back　by　ropes　of
  pearl。　A　warm　Belgian　carpet；　thick　as　turf；　of　a　gray　ground　with
  blue　posies；　covered　the　floor。　The　furniture；　of　carved　ebony；　after
  a　fine　model　of　the　old　school；　gave　substance　and　richness　to　the
  rather　too　decorative　quality；　as　a　painter　might　call　it；　of　the　rest
  of　the　room。　On　either　side　of　a　large　window；　two　etageres　displayed
  a　hundred　precious　trifles；　flowers　of　mechanical　art　brought　into
  bloom　by　the　fire　of　thought。　On　a　chimney…piece　of　slate…blue　marble
  were　figures　in　old　Dresden；　shepherds　in　bridal　garb；　with　delicate
  bouquets　in　their　hands；　German　fantasticalities　surrounding　a
  platinum　clock；　inlaid　with　arabesques。　Above　it　sparkled　the
  brilliant　facets　of　a　Venice　mirror　framed　in　ebony；　with　figures
  carved　in　relief；　evidently　obtained　from　some　former　royal　residence。
  Two　jardinieres　were　filled　with　the　exotic　product　of　a　hot…house；
  pale；　but　divine　flowers；　the　treasures　of　botany。
  In　this　cold；　orderly　boudoir；　where　all　things　were　in　place　as　if
  for　sale；　no　sign　existed　of　the　gay　and　capricious　disorder　of　a
  happy　home。　At　the　present　moment；　the　two　young　women　were　weeping。
  Pain　seemed　to　predominate。　The　name　of　the　owner；　Ferdinand　du
  Tillet；　one　of　the　richest　bankers　in　Paris；　is　enough　to　explain　the
  luxury　of　the　whole　house；　of　which　this　boudoir　is　but　a　sample。
  Though　without　either　rank　or　station；　having　pushed　himself　forward；
  heaven　knows　how；　du　Tillet　had　married；　in　1831；　the　daughter　of　the
  Comte　de　Granville；　one　of　the　greatest　names　in　the　French
  magistracy；a　man　who　became　peer　of　France　after　the　revolution　of
  July。　This　marriage　of　ambition　on　du　Tillet's　part　was　brought　about
  by　his　agreeing　to　sign　an　acknowledgment　in　the　marriage　contract　of
  a　dowry　not　received；　equal　to　that　of　her　elder　sister；　who　was
  married　to　Comte　Felix　de　Vandenesse。　On　the　other　hand；　the
  Granvilles　obtained　the　alliance　with　de　Vandenesse　by　the　largeness
  of　the　〃dot。〃　Thus　the　bank　repaired　the　breach　made　in　the　pocket　of
  the　magistracy　by　rank。　Could　the　Comte　de　Vandenesse　have　seen
  himself；　three　years　later；　the　brother…in…law　of　a　Sieur　Ferdinand　DU
  Tillet；　so…called；　he　might　not　have　married　his　wife；　but　what　man　of
  rank　in　1828　foresaw　the　strange　upheavals　which　the　year　1830　was
  destined　to　produce　in　the　political　condition；　the　fortunes；　and　the
  customs　of　France？　Had　any　one　predicted　to　Comte　Felix　de　Vandenesse
  that　his　head　would　lose　the　coronet　of　a　peer；　and　that　of　his
  father…in…law　acquire　one；　he　would　have　thought　his　informant　a
  lunatic。
  Bending　forward　on　one　of　those　low　chairs　then　called　〃chaffeuses；〃
  in　the　attitude　of　a　listener；　Madame　du　Tillet　was　pressing　to　her
  bosom　with　maternal　tenderness；　and　occasionally　kissing；　the　hand　of
  her　sister；　Madame　Felix　de　Vandenesse。　Society　added　the　baptismal
  name　to　the　surname；　in　order　to　distinguish　the　countess　from　her
  sister…in…law；　the　Marquise　Charles　de　Vandenesse；　wife　of　the　former
  ambassador；　who　had　married　the　widow　of　the　Comte　de　Kergarouet；
  Mademoiselle　Emilie　de　Fontaine。
  Half　lying　on　a　sofa；　her　handkerchief　in　the　other　hand；　her
  breathing　choked　by　repressed　sobs；　and　with　tearful　eyes；　the
  countess　had　been　making　confidences　such　as　are　made　only　from　sister
  to　sister　when　two　sisters　love　each　other；　and　these　two　sisters　did
  love　each　other　tenderly。　We　live　in　days　when　sisters　married　into
  such　antagonist　spheres　can　very　well　not　love　each　other；　and
  therefore　the　historian　is　bound　to　relate　the　reasons　of　this　tender
  affection；　preserved　without　spot　or　jar　in　spite　of　their　husbands'
  contempt　for　each　other　and　their　own　social　disunion。　A　rapid　glance
  at　their　childhood　will　explain　the　situation。
  Brought　up　in　a　gloomy　house　in　the　Marais；　by　a　woman　of　narrow　mind；
  a　〃devote〃　who；　being　sustained　by　a　sense　of　duty　（sacred　phrase！）；
  had　fulfilled　her　tasks　as　a　mother　religiously；　Marie…Angelique　and
  Marie　Eugenie　de　Granville　reached　the　period　of　their　marriagethe
  first　at　eighteen；　the　second　at　twenty　years　of　agewithout　ever
  leaving　the　domestic　zone　where　the　rigid　maternal　eye　controlled
  them。　Up　to　that　time　they　had　never　been　to　a　play；　the　churches　of
  Paris　were　their　theatre。　Their　education　in　their　mother's　house　had
  been　as　rigorous　as　it　would　have　been　in　a　convent。　From　infancy　they
  had　slept　in　a　room　adjoining　that　of　the　Comtesse　de　Granville；　the
  door　of　which　stood　always　open。　The　time　not　occupied　by　the　care　of
  their　persons；　their　religious　duties　and　the　studies　considered
  necessary　for　well…bred　young　ladies；　was　spent　in　needlework　done　for
  the　poor；　or　in　walks　like　those　an　Englishwoman　allows　herself　on
  Sunday；　saying；　apparently；　〃Not　so　fast；　or　we　shall　seem　to　be
  amusing　ourselves。〃
  Their　education　did　not　go　beyond　the　limits　imposed　by　confessors；
  who　were　chosen　by　their　mother　from　the　strictest　and　least　tolerant
  of　the　Jansenist　priests。　Never　were　girls　delivered　over　to　their
  husbands　more　absolutely　pure　and　virgin　than　they；　their　mother
  seemed　to　consider　that　point；　essential　as　indeed　it　is；　the
  accomplishment　of　all　her　duties　toward　earth　and　heaven。　These　two
  poor　creatures　had　never；　before　their　marriage；　read　a　tale；　or　heard
  of　a　romance；　their　very　drawings　were　of　figures　whose　anatomy　would
  have　been　masterpieces　of　the　impossible　to　Cuvier；　designed　to
  feminize　the　Farnese　Hercules　himself。　An　old　maid　taught　them
  drawing。　A　worthy　priest　instructed　them　in　grammar；　the　French
  language；　history；　geography；　and　the　very　little　arithmetic　it　was
  thought　necessary　in　their　rank　for　women　to　know。　Their　reading；
  selected　from　authorized　books；　such　as　the　〃Lettres　Edifiantes；〃　and
  Noel's　〃Lecons　de　Litterature；〃　was　done　aloud　in　the　evening；　but
  always　in　presence　of　their　mother's　confessor；　for　even　in　those
  books　there　did　sometimes　occur　passages　which；　without　wise　comments；
  might　have　roused　their　imagination。　Fenelon's　〃Telemaque〃　was　thought
  dangerous。
  The　Comtesse　de　Granville　loved　her　daughters　sufficiently　to　wish　to
  make　them　angels　after　the　pattern　of　Marie　Alacoque；　but　the　poor
  girls　themselves　would　have　preferred　a　less　virtuous　and　more　am