Nothing could
present a greater contrast than the disorderly, vigorous Raoul to
Felix de Vandenesse, who cared for his person like a dainty woman,
wore well-fitting clothes, had a charming "desinvoltura," and was a
votary of English nicety, to which, in earlier days, Lady Dudley had
trained him. Marie, as a good and pious woman, soon forbade herself
even to think of Raoul, and considered that she was a monster of
ingratitude for making the comparison.
"What do you think of Raoul Nathan?" she asked her husband the next
day at breakfast.
"He is something of a charlatan," replied Felix; "one of those
volcanoes who are easily calmed down with a little gold-dust. Madame
de Montcornet makes a mistake in admitting him."
This answer annoyed Marie, all the more because Felix supported his
opinion with certain facts, relating what he knew of Raoul Nathan's
life,--a precarious existence mixed up with a popular actress.
"If the man has genius," he said in conclusion, "he certainly has
neither the constancy nor the patience which sanctifies it, and makes
it a thing divine. He endeavors to impose on the world by placing
himself on a level which he does nothing to maintain. True talent,
pains-taking and honorable talent does not act thus. Men who possess
such talent follow their path courageously; they accept its pains and
penalties, and don't cover them with tinsel.
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