First Appearance in SocietyAbsurd and touching memory: one's first appearance, at eighteen,alone and unsupported, in a drawing-room! A glance from a woman was enough to terrify me. The more I tried to shine, the moreawkward I became. I formed the most false ideas of everything;either I surrendered myself for no reason, or I saw an enemy in aman because he had looked at me with a serious expression. Butthen, amid all the fearful sufferings of my shyness, how fine wasa fine day!

KANTJulien stopped in confusion in the middle of the courtyard.

'Do assume a reasonable air,' said the Abbe Picard; 'you take hold ofhorrible ideas, and you are only a boy! Where is the nil mirari of Horace?'

(That is: no enthusiasm.) 'Reflect that this tribe of flunkeys, seeing youestablished here, will try to make a fool of you; they will regard you asan equal, unjustly set over them. Beneath a show of good nature, of goodadvice, of a wish to guide you, they will try to catch you out in some stupid blunder.'

'I defy them to do so,' said Julien, biting his lip; and he recovered allhis former distrust.

The drawing-rooms through which our friends passed on the firstfloor, before coming to the Marquis's study, would have seemed to you,gentle reader, as depressing as they were magnificent. Had you beenmade a present of them as they stood, you would have refused to live inthem; they are the native heath of boredom and dreary argument. Theyredoubled Julien's enchantment. 'How can anyone be unhappy,' hethought, 'who lives in so splendid a residence?'

Finally, our friends came to the ugliest of the rooms in this superbsuite: the daylight barely entered it; here, they found a wizened little man with a keen eye and a fair periwig. The abbe turned to Julien, whomhe presented. It was the Marquis. Julien had great difficulty in recognising him, so civil did he find him. This was no longer the great nobleman, so haughty in his mien, of the Abbey of Bray-le-Haut. It seemed toJulien that there was far too much hair in his wig. Thanks to this impression, he was not in the least intimidated. The descendant of Henri III'sfriend struck him at first as cutting but a poor figure. He was very thinand greatly agitated. But he soon remarked that the Marquis showed acourtesy even more agreeable to the person he was addressing than thatof the Bishop of Besancon himself. The audience did not occupy threeminutes. As they left the room, the abbe said to Julien:

'You looked at the Marquis as you would have looked at a picture. Iam no expert in what these people call politeness, soon you will knowmore about it than I; still, the boldness of your stare seemed to me to bescarcely polite.'

They had returned to their vehicle; the driver stopped by theboulevard; the abbe led Julien through a series of spacious rooms. Julienremarked that they were unfurnished. He was looking at a magnificentgilt clock, representing a subject that in his opinion was highly indecent,when a most elegant gentleman approached them with an affable expression. Julien made him a slight bow.

The gentleman smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. Julienquivered and sprang back. He was flushed with anger. The abbe Pirard,for all his gravity, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. The gentleman was a tailor.

'I leave you at liberty for two days,' the abbe told him as they emerged;'it is not until then that you can be presented to Madame de La Mole.

Most people would protect you like a young girl, in these first momentsof your sojourn in this modern Babylon. Ruin yourself at once, if you areto be ruined, and I shall be rid of the weakness I show in caring for you.

The day after tomorrow, in the morning, this tailor will bring you twocoats; you will give five francs to the boy who tries them on you. Otherwise, do not let these Parisians hear the sound of your voice. If you uttera word, they will find a way of making you look foolish. That is their talent. The day after tomorrow, be at my house at midday ... Run along, ruin yourself ... I was forgetting, go and order boots, shirts, a hat at theseaddresses.'

Julien studied the handwriting of the addresses.

'That is the Marquis's hand,' said the abbe, 'he is an active man whoprovides for everything, and would rather do a thing himself than orderit to be done. He is taking you into his household so that you may savehim trouble of this sort. Will you have sufficient intelligence to carry outall the orders that this quick-witted man will suggest to you in a fewwords? The future will show: have a care!'

Julien, without uttering a word, made his way into the shops indicatedon the list of addresses; he observed that he was greeted there with respect, and the bootmaker, in entering his name in his books, wrote 'M.

Julien de Sorel'.

In the Cemetery of Pere-Lachaise a gentleman who seemed highly obliging, and even more Liberal in his speech, offered to guide Julien to thetomb of Marshal Ney, from which a wise administration has withheldthe honour of an epitaph. But, after parting from this Liberal, who, withtears in his eyes, almost clasped him to his bosom, Julien no longer had awatch. It was enriched by this experience that, two days later, at noon, hepresented himself before the abbe Pirard, who studied him attentively.

'You are perhaps going to become a fop,' the abbe said to him, with asevere expression. Julien had the appearance of an extremely youngman, in deep mourning; he did, as a matter of fact, look quite well, butthe good abbe was himself too provincial to notice that Julien still hadthat swing of the shoulders which in the provinces betokens at once elegance and importance. On seeing Julien, the Marquis considered hisgraces in a light so different from that of the good abbe that he said tohim:

'Should you have any objection to M. Sorel's taking dancing-lessons?'

The abbe was rooted to the spot.

'No,' he replied, at length, 'Julien is not a priest.'

The Marquis, mounting two steps at a time by a little secret stair, conducted our hero personally to a neat attic which overlooked the hugegarden of the house. He asked him how many shirts he had orderedfrom the hosier.

'Two,' replied Julien, dismayed at seeing so great a gentleman descendto these details.

'Very good,' said the Marquis, with a serious air, and an imperative,curt note in his voice, which set Julien thinking: 'very good! Order yourself two and twenty more. Here is your first quarter's salary.'

As they came down from the attic, the Marquis summoned an elderlyman: 'Arsene,' he said to him, 'you will look after M. Sorel.' A fewminutes later, Julien found himself alone in a magnificent library: it wasan exquisite moment. So as not to be taken by surprise in his emotion, hewent and hid himself in a little dark corner; from which he gazed withrapture at the glittering backs of the books. 'I can read all of those,' hetold himself. 'And how should I fail to be happy here? M. de Renalwould have thought himself disgraced for ever by doing the hundredthpart of what the Marquis de La Mole has just done for me.

'But first of all, we must copy the letters.' This task ended, Julien ventured towards the shelves; he almost went mad with joy on finding anedition of Voltaire. He ran and opened the door of the library so as not tobe caught. He then gave himself the pleasure of opening each of theeighty volumes in turn. They were magnificently bound, a triumph ofthe best craftsman in London. This was more than was needed to carryJulien's admiration beyond all bounds.

An hour later, the Marquis entered the room, examined the copies,and was surprised to see that Julien wrote cela with a double l, cella 'Soall that the abbe has been telling me of his learning is simply a tale!' TheMarquis, greatly discouraged, said to him gently:

'You are not certain of your spelling?'

'That is true,' said Julien, without the least thought of the harm he wasdoing himself; he was moved by the Marquis's kindness, which madehim think of M. de Renal's savage tone.

'It is all a waste of time, this experiment with a little Franc-comtoispriest,' thought the Marquis; 'but I did so want a trustworthy man.

'Cela has only one l,' the Marquis told him; 'when you have finishedyour copies, take the dictionary and look out all the words of which youare not certain.'

At six o'clock the Marquis sent for him; he looked with evident dismayat Julien's boots: 'I am to blame. I forgot to tell you that every evening athalf-past five you must dress.'

Julien looked at him without understanding him.

'I mean put on stockings. Arsene will remind you; today I shall makeyour apologies.'

So saying, M. de La Mole ushered Julien into a drawing-room resplendent with gilding. On similar occasions, M. de Renal never failed to increase his pace so that he might have the satisfaction of going firstthrough the door.

The effect of his old employer's petty vanity was that Julien now trodupon the Marquis's heels, and caused him considerable pain, owing tohis gout. 'Ah! He is even more of a fool than I thought,' the Marquis saidto himself. He presented him to a woman of tall stature and imposing aspect. It was the Marquise. Julien decided that she had an impertinent air,which reminded him a little of Madame de Maugiron, the Sub-Prefect'swife of the Verrieres district, when she attended the Saint Charles's daydinner. Being somewhat embarrassed by the extreme splendour of theroom, Julien did not hear what M. de La Mole was saying. The Marquisebarely deigned to glance at him. There were several men in the room,among whom Julien recognised with unspeakable delight the youngBishop of Agde, who had condescended to say a few words to him onceat the ceremony at Bray-le-Haut. The young prelate was doubtlessalarmed by the tender gaze which Julien, in his timidity, fastened uponhim, and made no effort to recognise this provincial.

The men assembled in this drawing-room seemed to Julien to be somehow melancholy and constrained; people speak low in Paris, and do notexaggerate trifling matters.

A handsome young man, wearing moustaches, very pale and slender,entered the room at about half-past six; he had an extremely small head.

'You always keep us waiting,' said the Marquise, as he kissed herhand.

Julien gathered that this was the Comte de La Mole. He found himcharming from the first.

'Is it possible,' he said to himself, 'that this is the man whose offensivepleasantries are going to drive me from this house?'

By dint of a survey of Comte Norbert's person, Julien discovered thathe was wearing boots and spurs; 'and I ought to be wearing shoes, evidently as his inferior.' They sat down to table. Julien heard the Marquiseutter a word of rebuke, slightly raising her voice. Almost at the same moment he noticed a young person extremely fair and very comely, whowas taking her place opposite to him. She did not attract him at all; onstudying her attentively, however, he thought that he had never seensuch fine eyes; but they hinted at great coldness of heart. Later, Julien decided that they expressed a boredom which studies other people butkeeps on reminding itself that it is one's duty to be imposing. 'Madamede Renal, too, had the most beautiful eyes,' he said to himself; 'people used to compliment her on them; but they had nothing in common withthese.' Julien had not enough experience to discern that it was the fire ofwit that shone from time to time in the eyes of Mademoiselle Mathilde,for so he heard her named. When Madame de Renal's eyes became animated, it was with the fire of her passions, or was due to a righteous indignation upon hearing of some wicked action. Towards the end of dinner,Julien found the right word to describe the type of beauty exemplified bythe eyes of Mademoiselle de La Mole: 'They are scintillating,' he said tohimself. Otherwise, she bore a painful resemblance to her mother, whomhe disliked more and more, and he ceased to look at her. Comte Norbert,on the other hand, struck him as admirable in every respect. Julien wasso captivated, that it never entered his head to be jealous of him and tohate him, because he was richer and nobler than himself.

Julien thought that the Marquis appeared bored.

During the second course, he said to his son:

'Norbert, I must ask you to look after M. Julien Sorel, whom I have justtaken upon my staff, and intend to make a man of, if that (cela) can bedone.

'He is my secretary,' the Marquis added to his neighbour, 'and hespells cela with a double l.'

Everyone looked at Julien, who gave Norbert a slightly exaggeratedbow; but on the whole, they were satisfied with his appearance.

The Marquis must have spoken of the kind of education that Julienhad received, for one of the guests tackled him upon Horace: 'It was precisely in discussing Horace that I was successful with the Bishop of Besancon,' Julien said to himself, 'evidently he is the only author they know.'

From that moment he was master of himself. This change was made easyby his having just decided that Mademoiselle de La Mole would neverbe a woman in his eyes. Since his Seminary days he defied men to dotheir worst, and refused to be intimidated by them. He would have enjoyed perfect self-possession, had the dining-room been furnished withless magnificence. It was, as a matter of fact, a pair of mirrors, each ofthem eight feet high, in which he caught sight now and then of his challenger as he spoke of Horace, that still continued to overawe him. Hissentences were not unduly long for a provincial. He had fine eyes, thesparkle in which was enhanced by his tremulous, or, when he had madea good answer, his happy shyness. This sort of examination made aserious dinner-party quite interesting. The Marquis made a sign to the other speaker to press Julien hard. 'Can it be possible that he does knowsomething?' he thought.

Julien found fresh ideas as he answered, and lost enough of his shyness not, indeed, to display wit, a thing impossible to a person ignorantof the language that is spoken in Paris, but he had original ideas, albeitexpressed without gracefulness or appropriateness, and it could be seenthat he had a thorough knowledge of Latin.

His adversary was a member of the Academy of Inscriptions, whohappened to know Latin; he found in Julien an excellent humanist, lostall fear of making him blush, and really did seek to embarrass him. In theheat of the duel, Julien at length forgot the magnificent decoration of thedining-room, and began to express ideas with regard to the Latin poets,which the other had never read in any book. Being an honest man, hegave the credit for them to the young secretary. Fortunately, the discussion turned to the question whether Horace had been poor or rich: anamiable person, sensual and easy-going, making poetry for his ownamusement, like Chapelle, the friend of Moliere and La Fontaine; or apoor devil of a Poet Laureate attached to the court and composing odesfor the King's Birthday, like Southey, the traducer of Lord Byron. Theyspoke of the state of society under Augustus and under George IV; inboth epochs the aristocracy was all-powerful! but in Rome it saw itspower wrested from it by Maecenas, who was a mere knight; and in England it had reduced George IV more or less to the position of a Doge ofVenice. This discussion seemed to draw the Marquis out of the state oftorpor in which his boredom had kept him plunged at the beginning ofdinner.

Julien could make nothing of all these modern names, such asSouthey, Lord Byron, George IV, which he now heard for the first time.

But no one could fail to observe that whenever there was any question ofhistorical events at Rome, a knowledge of which might be derived fromthe works of Horace, Martial, Tacitus, etc., he had an unchallengeable superiority. Julien appropriated without a scruple a number of ideas whichhe had acquired from the Bishop of Besancon, during the famous discussion he had had with that prelate; these proved to be not the leastacceptable.

When the party tired of discussing poets, the Marquise, who made it arule to admire anything that amused her husband, condescended toglance at Julien. 'The awkward manners of this young cleric may perhaps be concealing a learned man,' the Academician, who was sitting near her, said to the Marquise; and Julien overheard something of whathe was saying. Ready-made phrases were quite to the taste of his hostess;she adopted this description of Julien, and was glad that she had invitedthe Academician to dine. 'He amuses M. de La Mole,' she thought.