Chapter V
Original French
L’Ingénu amoureux.
Il faut avouer que depuis ce baptême et ce dîner mademoiselle deSaint-Yves souhaita passionnément que monsieur l’évêque la fît encoreparticipante de quelque beau sacrement avec M. Hercule l’Ingénu.Cependant, comme elle était bien élevée et fort modeste, elle n’osaitconvenir tout-à-fait avec elle-même de ses tendres sentiments; mais,s’il lui échappait un regard, un mot, un geste, une pensée, elleenveloppait tout cela d’un voile de pudeur infiniment aimable. Elleétait tendre, vive, et sage.
Dès que monsieur l’évêque fut parti, l’Ingénu et mademoiselle deSaint-Yves se rencontrèrent sans avoir fait réflexion qu’ils secherchaient. Ils se parlèrent sans avoir imaginé ce qu’ils se diraient.L’Ingénu lui dit d’abord qu’il l’aimait de tout son coeur, et que labelle Abacaba, dont il avait été fou dans son pays, n’approchait pasd’elle. Mademoiselle lui répondit, avec sa modestie ordinaire, qu’ilfallait en parler au plus vite à monsieur le prieur son oncle et àmademoiselle sa tante, et que de son côté elle en dirait deux mots àson cher frère l’abbé de Saint-Yves, et qu’elle se flattait d’unconsentement commun.
L’Ingénu lui répond qu’il n’avait besoin du consentement de personne,qu’il lui paraissait extrêmement ridicule d’aller demander à d’autresce qu’on devait faire; que, quand deux parties sont d’accord, on n’apas besoin d’un tiers pour les accommoder. Je ne consulte personne,dit-il, quand j’ai envie de déjeuner, ou de chasser, ou de dormir: jesais bien qu’en amour il n’est pas mal d’avoir le consentement de lapersonne à qui on en veut: mais, comme ce n’est ni de mon oncle ni dema tante que je suis amoureux, ce n’est pas à eux que je doism’adresser dans cette affaire, et, si vous m’en croyez, vous vouspasserez aussi de monsieur l’abbé de Saint-Yves.
On peut juger que la belle Bretonne employa toute la délicatesse de sonesprit à réduire son Huron aux termes de la bienséance. Elle se fâchamême, et bientôt se radoucit. Enfin on ne sait comment aurait finicette conversation, si, le jour baissant, monsieur l’abbé n’avaitramené sa soeur à son abbaye. L’Ingénu laissa coucher son oncle et satante, qui étaient un peu fatigués de la cérémonie et de leur longdîner. Il passa une partie de la nuit à faire des vers en langue huronepour sa bien-aimée; car il faut savoir qu’il n’y a aucun pays de laterre où l’amour n’ait rendu les amants poètes.
Le lendemain son oncle lui parla ainsi après le déjeuner, en présencede mademoiselle de Kerkabon, qui était tout attendrie: Le ciel soitloué de ce que vous avez l’honneur, mon cher neveu, d’être chrétien etBas-Breton! mais cela ne suffit pas; je suis un peu sur l’âge; monfrère n’a laissé qu’un petit coin de terre qui est très peu de chose;j’ai un bon prieuré; si vous voulez seulement vous faire sous-diacre,comme je l’espère, je vous résignerai mon prieuré, et vous vivrez fortà votre aise, après avoir été la consolation de ma vieillesse.
L’Ingénu répondit: Mon oncle, grand bien vous fasse! vivez tant quevous pourrez. Je ne sais pas ce que c’est que d’être sous-diacre ni quede résigner; mais tout me sera bon pourvu que j’aie mademoiselle deSaint-Yves à ma disposition. Eh! mon Dieu, mon neveu, que me dites-vouslà? Vous aimez donc cette belle demoiselle à la folie?—Oui, mononcle.—- Hélas! mon neveu, il est impossible que vous l’épousiez.—Celaest très possible, mon oncle; car non seulement elle m’a serré la mainen me quittant, mais elle m’a promis qu’elle me demanderait en mariage;et assurément je l’épouserai.—Cela est impossible, vous dis-je, elleest votre marraine; c’est un péché épouvantable à une marraine deserrer la main de son filleul: il n’est pas permis d’épouser samarraine; les lois divines et humaines s’y opposent.—Morbleu! mononcle, vous vous moquez de moi: pourquoi serait-il défendu d’épouser samarraine, quand elle est jeune et jolie? Je n’ai point vu dans le livreque vous m’avez donné qu’il fût mal d’épouser les filles qui ont aidéles gens à être baptisés. Je m’aperçois tous les jours qu’on fait iciune infinité de choses qui ne sont point dans votre livre, et qu’on n’yfait rien de tout ce qu’il dit: je vous avoue que cela m’étonne et mefâche. Si on me prive de la belle Saint-Yves, sous prétexte de monbaptême, je vous avertis que je l’enlève, et que je me débaptise.
Le prieur fut confondu; sa soeur pleura. Mon cher frère, dit-elle, ilne faut pas que notre neveu se damne; notre saint-père le pape peut luidonner dispense, et alors il pourra être chrétiennement heureux avec cequ’il aime. L’Ingénu embrassa sa tante. Quel est donc, dit-il, cethomme charmant qui favorise avec tant de bonté les garçons et lesfilles dans leurs amours? Je veux lui aller parler tout-à-l’heure.
On lui expliqua ce que c’était que le pape; et l’Ingénu fut encore plusétonné qu’auparavant. Il n’y a pas un mot de tout cela dans votrelivre, mon cher oncle; j’ai voyagé, je connais la mer; nous sommes icisur la côte de l’océan; et je quitterais mademoiselle de Saint-Yvespour aller demander la permission de l’aimer à un homme qui demeurevers la Méditerranée, à quatre cents lieues d’ici, et dont je n’entendspoint la langue! cela est d’un ridicule incompréhensible. Je vaissur-le-champ chez monsieur l’abbé de Saint-Yves, qui ne demeure qu’àune lieue de vous, et je vous réponds que j’épouserai ma maîtresse dansla journée.
Comme il parlait encore, entra le bailli qui, selon sa coutume, luidemanda où il allait. Je vais me marier, dit l’Ingénu en courant; et aubout d’un quart d’heure il était déjà chez sa belle et chèrebasse-brette qui dormait encore. Ah! mon frère, disait mademoiselle deKerkabon au prieur, jamais vous ne ferez un sous-diacre de notre neveu.
Le bailli fut très mécontent de ce voyage; car il prétendait que sonfils épousât la Saint-Yves; et ce fils était encore plus sot et plusinsupportable que son père.
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.
The Ingénu in love.
It must be admitted that after this baptism and this dinner, Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves passionately wished the bishop would let her share some other fine sacrament with Monsieur Hercules the Ingénu. Yet, being well brought up and very modest, she scarcely dared acknowledge her tender feelings even to herself. If a look, a word, a gesture, a thought escaped her, she wrapped it all in a veil of infinitely charming reserve. She was tender, spirited, and virtuous.
As soon as the bishop had left, the Ingénu and Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves met without having reflected that they were looking for each other. They spoke without having imagined what they would say. The Ingénu told her at once that he loved her with all his heart, and that the beautiful Abacaba, about whom he had been mad in his own country, could not compare with her. With her usual modesty, the young lady answered that he must speak as soon as possible to his uncle the prior and to his aunt, and that she, for her part, would say a few words to her dear brother, the Abbé de Saint-Yves; she hoped they would all consent.
The Ingénu replied that he needed no one's consent; that it seemed exceedingly ridiculous to go and ask other people what one ought to do; that when two parties were in agreement, they did not need a third to reconcile them. "I consult no one," he said, "when I feel like having breakfast, hunting, or sleeping. I know very well that in love it does no harm to have the consent of the person you desire. But since I am in love with neither my uncle nor my aunt, they are not the people I should approach in this matter; and if you take my advice, you will do without the Abbé de Saint-Yves as well."
One may imagine that the beautiful Breton used all the delicacy of her wit to bring her Huron within the bounds of propriety. She even grew angry, and soon softened again. In the end, there is no knowing how this conversation would have ended if, as daylight faded, the abbé had not taken his sister back to his abbey. The Ingénu let his uncle and aunt go to bed, for they were rather tired after the ceremony and their long dinner. He spent part of the night composing verses in the Huron language for his beloved; for it must be understood that there is no country on earth where love has not turned lovers into poets.
The next day, after breakfast, his uncle spoke to him as follows, in the presence of Mademoiselle de Kerkabon, who was deeply moved: "Heaven be praised, my dear nephew, that you have the honor of being both a Christian and a Lower Breton! But that is not enough. I am growing rather old; my brother left only a little patch of land, which amounts to very little. I have a fine priory. If you will only become a subdeacon, as I hope you will, I shall resign my priory in your favor, and you will live very comfortably, after having been the consolation of my old age."
The Ingénu answered, "Uncle, I wish you every blessing! Live as long as you can. I do not know what it means to be a subdeacon or to resign, but anything will suit me, provided I can have Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves." "Oh, my God, nephew, what are you saying? Are you madly in love with that beautiful young lady, then?"—"Yes, uncle."—"Alas, nephew, it is impossible for you to marry her."—"It is perfectly possible, uncle; for not only did she press my hand as she left me, but she promised she would ask for my hand in marriage. And I shall certainly marry her."—"It is impossible, I tell you. She is your godmother. It is a dreadful sin for a godmother to press her godson's hand. One is not permitted to marry one's godmother; divine and human laws forbid it."—"Good God, uncle, you are making fun of me! Why should it be forbidden to marry your godmother when she is young and pretty? I saw nothing in the book you gave me saying it was wrong to marry girls who have helped people get baptized. Every day I notice that an infinity of things are done here that are not in your book, while nothing it says is done at all. I confess that this astonishes and angers me. If I am deprived of the beautiful Saint-Yves on the pretext of my baptism, I warn you that I shall carry her off and have myself unbaptized."
The prior was confounded; his sister wept. "My dear brother," she said, "we must not let our nephew damn himself. Our holy father the pope can grant him a dispensation, and then he can be happy as a Christian with the woman he loves." The Ingénu embraced his aunt. "Who is this delightful man," he said, "who so kindly helps young men and women in their loves? I want to go and speak to him at once."
They explained to him what the pope was, and the Ingénu was more astonished than before. "There is not a word of all this in your book, my dear uncle. I have traveled; I know the sea. We are here on the coast of the ocean; and am I to leave Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves to ask permission to love her from a man who lives near the Mediterranean, four hundred leagues from here, and whose language I do not understand? It is incomprehensibly ridiculous. I am going this very moment to the Abbé de Saint-Yves, who lives only a league from you, and I guarantee that I shall marry my beloved today."
While he was still speaking, the bailiff came in and, as usual, asked him where he was going. "I am going to get married," said the Ingénu as he ran off; and a quarter of an hour later he was already at the home of his beautiful, dear Lower Breton, who was still asleep. "Ah, brother," Mademoiselle de Kerkabon said to the prior, "you will never make a subdeacon of our nephew."
The bailiff was very displeased by this visit, for he intended his son to marry Saint-Yves; and the son was even more foolish and more insufferable than his father.
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.
The Ingénu falls in love.
It must be admitted that after the baptism and dinner, Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves passionately wished the bishop would let her share another lovely sacrament with Monsieur Hercules the Ingénu. But she was well brought up and very modest, so she did not dare fully admit her tender feelings even to herself. If a look, a word, a gesture, or a thought escaped her, she covered it all with a veil of wonderfully charming modesty. She was affectionate, lively, and sensible.
As soon as the bishop left, the Ingénu and Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves met without having realized they were looking for each other. They began talking without having imagined what they would say. The Ingénu immediately told her that he loved her with all his heart. The beautiful Abacaba, whom he had been mad about in his own country, came nowhere near her. With her usual modesty, she answered that he must speak as soon as possible to his uncle the prior and to his aunt. For her part, she would say a few words to her dear brother, the abbé de Saint-Yves, and she hoped they would all agree.
The Ingénu answered that he needed nobody's consent. It seemed completely ridiculous to him to go and ask other people what you should do. When two people agreed, they did not need a third to settle things between them. "I don't consult anyone," he said, "when I want to eat breakfast, hunt, or sleep. I understand that in love it's a good idea to get the consent of the person you're after. But I'm not in love with either my uncle or my aunt, so they're not the people I need to speak to about this. And if you take my advice, you'll do without the abbé de Saint-Yves as well."
You can imagine how the beautiful Breton used all her tact and intelligence to bring her Huron into line with proper behavior. She even became angry, then soon softened again. In the end, there is no knowing how the conversation would have finished if the abbé had not taken his sister home to his abbey as daylight faded. The Ingénu let his uncle and aunt go to bed. They were a little tired from the ceremony and their long dinner. He spent part of the night composing verses in Huron for his beloved. For you should know that there is no country on earth where love has not turned lovers into poets.
The next morning after breakfast, his uncle spoke to him in front of a deeply moved Mademoiselle de Kerkabon. "Heaven be praised, my dear nephew, that you have the honor of being a Christian and a Breton of Lower Brittany! But that isn't enough. I'm getting on in years. My brother left only a little patch of land, which is worth very little. I have a good priory. If you'll just become a subdeacon, as I hope you will, I'll hand my priory over to you. You'll live very comfortably, after having comforted me in my old age."
The Ingénu answered, "Uncle, may it do you good! Live as long as you can. I don't know what being a subdeacon or handing over a priory means. But anything will suit me, as long as I can have Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves to myself." "Oh, my God, nephew, what are you saying? Are you madly in love with that beautiful young woman?" "Yes, uncle." "Sadly, my nephew, it's impossible for you to marry her." "It's quite possible, uncle. Not only did she squeeze my hand when we parted, she promised to ask to marry me. And I certainly will marry her." "It's impossible, I tell you. She's your godmother. It's a dreadful sin for a godmother to squeeze her godson's hand. You aren't allowed to marry your godmother. Divine and human laws forbid it." "Damn it, uncle, you're making fun of me! Why should it be forbidden to marry your godmother when she's young and pretty? I didn't see anything in the book you gave me saying it was wrong to marry girls who have helped people get baptized. Every day I notice that people here do an endless number of things that aren't in your book, and they don't do any of the things it says. I admit that surprises me and makes me angry. If you take the beautiful Saint-Yves away from me because of my baptism, I'm warning you: I'll carry her off and get myself unbaptized."
The prior was speechless. His sister cried. "My dear brother," she said, "we mustn't let our nephew be damned. Our Holy Father the pope can give him a dispensation, and then he can be happy as a Christian with the woman he loves." The Ingénu hugged his aunt. "Who is this delightful man," he asked, "who so kindly helps boys and girls with their love affairs? I want to go and speak to him right now."
They explained what the pope was, and the Ingénu was even more amazed than before. "There's not a word about any of this in your book, my dear uncle. I've traveled. I know the sea. We're here on the coast of the ocean. And I'm supposed to leave Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves to ask permission to love her from a man who lives near the Mediterranean, four hundred leagues away, and whose language I don't understand! That's so ridiculous I can't make sense of it. I'm going straight to the abbé de Saint-Yves, who lives only a league from you. I promise you I'll marry my sweetheart today."
He was still speaking when the bailiff came in and, as usual, asked where he was going. "I'm going to get married," said the Ingénu, running off. Within a quarter of an hour he was already at the home of his dear, beautiful girl from Lower Brittany, who was still asleep. "Oh, brother," Mademoiselle de Kerkabon told the prior, "you'll never make our nephew a subdeacon."
The bailiff was very unhappy about this visit. He intended his son to marry Mademoiselle de Saint-Yves, and this son was even more stupid and unbearable than his father.
About this section
Chapter V 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 5 of 20 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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