Chapter 13

DUEL BETWEEN WOMEN

Perhaps one of the greatest enjoyments that small minds or inferior
minds can obtain is that of deceiving a great soul, and laying snares
for it. Beatrix knew herself far beneath Camille Maupin. This
inferiority lay not only in the collection of mental and moral
qualities which we call /talent/, but in the things of the heart
called /passion/.

At the moment when Calyste was hurrying to Les Touches with the
impetuosity of a first love borne on the wings of hope, the marquise
was feeling a keen delight in knowing herself the object of the first
love of so charming a young man. She did not go so far as to wish
herself a sharer in the sentiment, but she thought it heroism on her
part to repress the /capriccio/, as the Italians say. She thought she
was equalling Camille's devotion, and told herself, moreover, that she
was sacrificing herself to her friend. The vanities peculiar to
Frenchwomen, which constitute the celebrated coquetry of which she was
so signal an instance, were flattered and deeply satisfied by
Calyste's love. Assailed by such powerful seduction, she was resisting
it, and her virtues sang in her soul a concert of praise and
self-approval.

The two women were half-sitting, half lying, in apparent indolence on
the divan of the little salon, so filled with harmony and the
fragrance of flowers. The windows were open, for the north wind had
ceased to blow. A soothing southerly breeze was ruffling the surface
of the salt lake before them, and the sun was glittering on the sands
of the shore. Their souls were as deeply agitated as the nature before
them was tranquil, and the heat within was not less ardent.

Bruised by the working of the machinery which she herself had set in
motion, Camille was compelled to keep watch for her safety, fearing
the amazing cleverness of the friendly enemy, or, rather, the inimical
friend she had allowed within her borders. To guard her own secrets
and maintain herself aloof, she had taken of late to contemplations of
nature; she cheated the aching of her own heart by seeking a meaning
in the world around her, finding God in that desert of heaven and
earth. When an unbeliever once perceives the presence of God, he
flings himself unreservedly into Catholicism, which, viewed as a
system, is complete.

That morning Camille's brow had worn the halo of thoughts born of
these researches during a night-time of painful struggle. Calyste was
ever before her like a celestial image. The beautiful youth, to whom
she had secretly devoted herself, had become to her a guardian angel.
Was it not he who led her into those loftier regions, where suffering
ceased beneath the weight of incommensurable infinity? and now a
certain air of