To begin with, the declaration of war between
France and England had separated the two lovers, and fidelity at all
costs was not, and never will be, the fashion of Paris. Then the
successes of the woman, elegant, pretty, universally adored, crushed
in the Parisienne the maternal sentiment. Lord Dudley was no more
troubled about his offspring than was the mother,--the speedy
infidelity of a young girl he had ardently loved gave him, perhaps, a
sort of aversion for all that issued from her. Moreover, fathers can,
perhaps, only love the children with whom they are fully acquainted, a
social belief of the utmost importance for the peace of families,
which should be held by all the celibate, proving as it does that
paternity is a sentiment nourished artificially by woman, custom, and
the law.
Poor Henri de Marsay knew no other father than that one of the two who
was not compelled to be one. The paternity of M. de Marsay was
naturally most incomplete. In the natural order, it is but for a few
fleeting instants that children have a father, and M. de Marsay
imitated nature. The worthy man would not have sold his name had he
been free from vices. Thus he squandered without remorse in gambling
hells, and drank elsewhere, the few dividends which the National
Treasury paid to its bondholders. Then he handed over the child to an
aged sister, a Demoiselle de Marsay, who took much care of him, and
provided him, out of the meagre sum allowed by her brother, with a
tutor, an abbe without a farthing, who took the measure of the youth's
future, and determined to pay himself out of the hundred thousand
livres for the care given to his pupil, for whom he conceived an
affection.
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