La Dame Aux Camelias
1 person find this helpful
This was a sad love tragedy. Armand, a young guy without much social position, loved a beautiful luxurious kept woman Marguerite. At first I thought it would be a long and complicated story with lots of happenings. But it was not, it was a detailed descriptive one. I often saw the scene before me, f
This was a sad love tragedy. Armand, a young guy without much social position, loved a beautiful luxurious kept woman Marguerite. At first I thought it would be a long and complicated story with lots of happenings. But it was not, it was a detailed descriptive one. I often saw the scene before me, felt the emotion of the characters. No doubt it could be put on stage.
Marguerite was a legendary courtesan. Wealthy comtes and dukes were ready to ruin themselves for her. She often received camellias in the theatre, where Armand was first introduced to her. Armand was attracted to her by her absolute beauty, while Armand had also enchanted Marguerite with his real pity and care for her.
The love between Armand and Marguerite was true, deep and pure. They loved and cared each other so much that both of them were about to sacrifice oneself without demanding anything in return, Marguerite her luxury and Armand his family and legacy. However, because of Armand's father entreat, Marguerite left Armand in a sad way resulting in hatred and retaliation. Armand used every cruel ways to hurt her, and returning to her unhealthy old life and suffering both soul and body, Marguerite soon died. Armand was not able to come back in time to see her, and only revealed the story from the diary she had left him.
I like the way the story started by the author auctioning the book that linked the two characters. Then Armand came up and told the story on his side. Finally the letters of Marguerite completed the mystery.
'Let us leave on our way the alms of pardon for those whom earthly desires have driven astray, whom a divine hope shall perhaps save, and, as old women say when they offer you some homely remedy of their own, if it does no good it will do no harm.'
'I searched my memory for the names of those whose happiness I had once envied; and I could not recall one without finding myself the happier.'
'For the most of them, gambling was a necessity; for me, it was a remedy. Free of Marguerite, I should have been free of gambling.'
'... you will soon forget what you would have suffered through that lost creature who is called Marguerite Gautier, whom you have loved for an instant, and who owes to you the only happy moments of a life which, she hopes, will not be very long now.'
'... I was obliged to have recourse to physical means in order not to go mad, and in order to be blinded and deafened in the whirl of life into which I flung myself.'
------------------------------------------------------------------ I have received your letter. You are still good, and I thank God for it. Yes, my friend, I am ill, and with one of those diseases that never relent; but the interest you still take in me makes my suffering less. I shall not live long enough, I expect, to have the happiness of pressing the hand which has written the kind letter I have just received; the words of it would be enough to cure me, if anything could cure me. I shall not see you for I am quite near death, and you are hundreds of miles away. My poor friend! Your Marguerite of old times sadly changed. It is better perhaps for you not to see her again than to see her as she is. You ask if I forgive you; oh, with all my heart, friend, for the way you hurt me was only a way of proving the love you had for me. I had been in bed for a month, and I think so much of your esteem that I write every day the journal of my life, from the moment we left each other to the moment when I shall be able to write no longer... Do not thank me for it. This daily looking back on the only happy moments of my life does me an immense amount good, and if you will find in reading some excuse for the past, I, for my part, find a continual solace in it... It would be good of God to let me see you again before I die. According to all probability, goodbye, my friend. Pardon me if I do not write a longer letter, but those who say they are going to cure me wear me out with blooding-letting, and my hand refuses to write any more. "Marguerite Gautier"
Is this helpful?
subscribe to Candy's shelf
Please sign up or log in first.
Left click to navigate, right click to translate.
Inline translation is not ready for this page yet.
Inline translation mode.
Share this page with your friends.