Chapter XVII
Original French
Elle succombe par vertu.
Elle priait son amie de la tuer; mais cette femme, non moins indulgenteque le jésuite, lui parla plus clairement encore. Hélas! dit-elle, lesaffaires ne se font guère autrement dans cette cour si aimable, sigalante, si renommée. Les places les plus médiocres et les plusconsidérables n’ont souvent été données qu’au prix qu’on exige de vous.Ecoutez, vous m’avez inspiré de l’amitié et de la confiance; je vousavouerai que si j’avais été aussi difficile que vous l’êtes, mon marine jouirait pas du petit poste qui le fait vivre; il le sait, et loind’en être fâché, il voit en moi sa bienfaitrice, et il se regarde commema créature. Pensez-vous que tous ceux qui ont été à la tête desprovinces, ou même des armées, aient dû leurs honneurs et leur fortuneà leurs seuls services? Il en est qui en sont redevables à mesdamesleurs femmes. Les dignités de la guerre ont été sollicitées parl’amour, et la place a été donnée au mari de la plus belle.
Vous êtes dans une situation bien plus intéressante; il s’agit derendre votre amant au jour et de l’épouser; c’est un devoir sacré qu’ilvous faut remplir. On n’a point blâmé les belles et grandes dames dontje vous parle; on vous applaudira, on dira que vous ne vous êtes permisune faiblesse que par un excès de vertu.—Ah! quelle vertu! s’écria labelle Saint-Yves; quel labyrinthe d’iniquités! quel pays! et quej’apprends à connaître les hommes! Un P. de La Chaise et un bailliridicule font mettre mon amant en prison, ma famille me persécute, onne me tend la main dans mon désastre que pour me déshonorer. Un jésuitea perdu un brave homme, un autre jésuite veut me perdre; je ne suisentourée que de pièges, et je touche au moment de tomber dans lamisère. Il faut que je me tue, ou que je parle au roi; je me jetterai àses pieds sur son passage, quand il ira à la messe ou à la comédie.
On ne vous laissera pas approcher, lui dit sa bonne amie; et si vousaviez le malheur de parler, mons de Louvois et le révérend P. de LaChaise pourraient vous enterrer dans le fond d’un couvent pour le restede vos jours.
Tandis que cette brave personne augmentait ainsi les perplexités decette âme désespérée, et enfonçait le poignard dans son coeur, arriveun exprès de M. de Saint-Pouange avec une lettre et deux beaux pendantsd’oreilles. Saint-Yves rejeta le tout en pleurant; mais l’amie s’enchargea.
Dès que le messager fut parti, la confidente lit la lettre danslaquelle on propose un petit souper aux deux amies pour le soir.Saint-Yves jure qu’elle n’ira point. La dévote veut lui essayer lesdeux boucles de diamants. Saint-Yves ne le put souffrir; elle combattitla journée entière. Enfin, n’ayant en vue que son amant, vaincue,entraînée, ne sachant où on la mène, elle se laisse conduire au souperfatal. Rien n’avait pu la déterminer à se parer des pendantsd’oreilles; la confidente les apporta, elle les lui ajusta malgré elleavant qu’on se mît à table. Saint-Yves était si confuse, si troublée,qu’elle se laissait tourmenter; et le patron en tirait un augure trèsfavorable. Vers la fin du repas, la confidente se retira discrètement.Le patron montra alors la révocation de la lettre de cachet, le brevetd’une gratification considérable, celui d’une compagnie, et n’épargnapas les promesses. Ah! lui dit Saint-Yves, que je vous aimerais si vousne vouliez pas être tant aimé!
Enfin, après une longue résistance, après des sanglots, des cris, deslarmes, affaiblie du combat, éperdue, languissante, il fallut serendre. Elle n’eut d’autre ressource que de se promettre de ne penserqu’à l’Ingénu, tandis que le cruel jouirait impitoyablement de lanécessité où elle était réduite.
Musean translation
Complete machine-assisted Musean translation made directly from the French, independently of the Plain English edition. All twenty chapters and Voltaire’s three author notes are retained; Beuchot’s editorial apparatus is omitted.
She succumbs through virtue.
She begged her friend to kill her; but this woman, no less indulgent than the Jesuit, spoke to her still more plainly. "Alas!" she said. "Business is seldom done any other way at this court, so charming, so gallant, so renowned. The humblest posts and the highest have often been granted only at the price demanded of you. Listen, you have inspired me with friendship and trust. I will admit to you that if I had been as difficult as you are, my husband would not enjoy the little post that keeps him alive. He knows it, and far from resenting it, he sees me as his benefactress and regards himself as a creature of my making. Do you imagine that all those who have governed provinces, or even commanded armies, owed their honors and fortunes to their services alone? Some of them owe these things to their ladies, their wives. Love has solicited the dignities of war, and the post has gone to the husband of the most beautiful woman.
"Your situation has a much stronger claim on our feelings: you must restore your lover to the light of day and marry him. It is a sacred duty you have to fulfill. No one has blamed the great and beautiful ladies I am telling you about. You will be applauded; people will say you allowed yourself a weakness only through an excess of virtue." "Ah, what virtue!" cried the beautiful Saint-Yves. "What a labyrinth of iniquities! What a country! And how I am learning to know men! A Father de La Chaise and a ridiculous bailiff have my lover put in prison; my family persecutes me; the only hand held out to me in my disaster is there to dishonor me. One Jesuit has ruined a brave man; another Jesuit wants to ruin me. I am surrounded by nothing but traps, and I am on the brink of falling into misery. I must kill myself or speak to the king. I will throw myself at his feet as he passes on his way to Mass or the theater."
"They will not let you approach him," her good friend told her. "And if you had the misfortune to speak, that Louvois and the Reverend Father de La Chaise could bury you in the depths of a convent for the rest of your days."
While this worthy person was thus deepening the perplexities of that despairing soul and driving the dagger into her heart, a special messenger arrived from Monsieur de Saint-Pouange with a letter and two beautiful pendant earrings. Saint-Yves rejected everything in tears, but her friend took charge of it.
As soon as the messenger had left, the confidante read the letter, which proposed a little supper for the two friends that evening. Saint-Yves swore she would not go. The devout woman wanted her to try on the two diamond earrings. Saint-Yves would not permit it; she struggled all day long. At last, with nothing before her eyes but her lover, defeated, swept along, not knowing where she was being led, she let herself be taken to the fatal supper. Nothing had persuaded her to adorn herself with the earrings; her confidante brought them along and fastened them on her against her will before they sat down to table. Saint-Yves was so mortified, so distraught, that she let herself be tormented; and her patron took this as a very favorable omen. Toward the end of the meal, the confidante discreetly withdrew. The patron then showed her the revocation of the lettre de cachet, a warrant for a substantial gratuity, and a commission to command a company, and was lavish with his promises. "Ah!" Saint-Yves told him. "How I would love you if you did not want to be loved so much!"
At last, after long resistance, after sobs, cries, and tears, weakened by the struggle, bewildered, her strength ebbing, she had to surrender. Her only recourse was to promise herself that she would think of no one but the Ingénu while the cruel man mercilessly enjoyed the desperate straits to which she had been reduced.
Plain English translation
Complete machine-assisted Plain English translation made independently and directly from the French, not from the Musean edition. All twenty chapters and Voltaire’s three author notes are retained; Beuchot’s editorial apparatus is omitted.
She gives in out of virtue.
She begged her friend to kill her. But this woman, as willing to make allowances as the Jesuit, spoke even more plainly. "Sadly," she said, "that's how nearly everything gets done at this court, so charming, so gallant, so famous. Both the lowest and the highest positions have often been given only at the price they're demanding from you. Listen, you've made me feel friendship and trust toward you. I'll admit that if I'd been as hard to persuade as you are, my husband wouldn't have the little post that supports him. He knows it. Far from being angry, he sees me as his benefactor and considers himself someone who owes his position to me. Do you think everyone who has governed a province or even commanded an army owed his honors and fortune to his service alone? Some owe them to their wives. Love has been used to ask for military ranks, and the post has gone to the prettiest woman's husband.
"Your situation is much more compelling. You need to bring your lover back into the daylight and marry him. That's a sacred duty you must carry out. No one blamed the beautiful, high-ranking ladies I'm telling you about. People will applaud you. They'll say you allowed yourself a moment of weakness only because you had too much virtue." "Oh, what virtue!" cried the beautiful Saint-Yves. "What a maze of wickedness! What a country! And how I'm learning to understand people! A Father de La Chaise and a ridiculous bailiff have my lover put in prison. My family persecutes me. The only helping hand I'm offered in my misery is meant to dishonor me. One Jesuit has ruined a brave man, and another wants to ruin me. There are traps all around me, and I'm on the point of falling into destitution. I must kill myself or speak to the king. I'll throw myself at his feet as he passes on his way to Mass or the theater."
"They won't let you near him," her good friend told her. "And if you did have the misfortune to speak, Monsieur de Louvois and the Reverend Father de La Chaise could bury you in the depths of a convent for the rest of your life."
While this worthy woman was making the desperate girl's confusion still worse and driving the dagger into her heart, a special messenger arrived from Monsieur de Saint-Pouange with a letter and two beautiful earrings. Saint-Yves rejected everything in tears, but her friend took charge of it all.
As soon as the messenger left, her confidante read the letter, which invited both friends to a small supper that evening. Saint-Yves swore she wouldn't go. The devout woman wanted to try the two diamond earrings on her. Saint-Yves wouldn't allow it. She struggled all day. At last, thinking only of her lover, defeated and swept along, not knowing where she was being taken, she let herself be led to the fatal supper. Nothing had persuaded her to wear the earrings. Her confidante brought them and put them on her against her will before they sat down at the table. Saint-Yves was so embarrassed and so upset that she let herself be tormented. Her patron took this as a very encouraging sign. Toward the end of the meal, her confidante discreetly withdrew. The patron then showed her the order canceling the royal warrant for imprisonment, a document granting a large payment, and another granting command of a company. He was generous with his promises. "Oh!" Saint-Yves told him. "How I would love you if you didn't want to be loved so much!"
At last, after a long resistance, after sobs, cries, and tears, exhausted by the struggle, distraught and faint, she had to give in. Her only comfort was to promise herself that she would think only of the Ingénu while the cruel man ruthlessly enjoyed the desperate situation she had been forced into.
About this section
Chapter XVII is part of L’Ingénu, histoire véritable tirée des manuscrits du P. Quesnel by Voltaire. This page sets the French original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is chapter 17 of 20 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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