ignorance of the things of life he had； as a matter of principle；
refrained from enlightening。 Sarrasine was Bouchardon's guest for six
years。 Fanatically devoted to his art； as Canova was at a later day；
he rose at dawn and went to the studio； there to remain until night；
and lived with his muse alone。 If he went to the Comedie…Francaise； he
was dragged thither by his master。 He was so bored at Madame
Geoffrin's； and in the fashionable society to which Bouchardon tried
to introduce him； that he preferred to remain alone； and held aloof
from the pleasures of that licentious age。 He had no other mistresses
than sculpture and Clotilde； one of the celebrities of the Opera。 Even
that intrigue was of brief duration。 Sarrasine was decidedly ugly；
always badly dressed； and naturally so independent； so irregular in
his private life； that the illustrious nymph； dreading some
catastrophe； soon remitted the sculptor to love of the arts。 Sophie
Arnould made some witty remark on the subject。 She was surprised； I
think； that her colleague was able to triumph over statues。
〃Sarrasine started for Italy in 1758。 On the journey his ardent
imagination took fire beneath a sky of copper and at the sight of the
marvelous monuments with which the fatherland of the arts is strewn。
He admired the statues； the frescoes； the pictures； and； fired with a
spirit of emulation； he went on to Rome； burning to inscribe his name
between the names of Michelangelo and Bouchardon。 At first； therefore；
he divided his time between his studio work and examination of the
works of art which abound in Rome。 He had already passed a fortnight
in the ecstatic state into which all youthful imaginations fall at the
sight of the queen of ruins； when he happened one evening to enter the
Argentina theatre； in front of which there was an enormous crowd。 He
inquired the reasons for the presence of so great a throng； and every
one answered by two names：
〃 'Zambinella！ Jomelli！'
〃He entered and took a seat in the pit； crowded between two
unconscionably stout /abbati/； but luckily he was quite near the
stage。 The curtain rose。 For the first time in his life he heard the
music whose charms Monsieur Jean…Jacques Rousseau had extolled so
eloquently at one of Baron d'Holbach's evening parties。 The young
sculptor's senses were lubricated； so to speak； by Jomelli's
harmonious strains。 The languorous peculiarities of those skilfully
blended Italian voices plunged him in an ecstasy of delight。 He sat
there； mute and motionless； not even conscious of the crowding of the
two priests。 His soul poured out through his ears and his eyes。 He
seemed to be listening with every one of his pores。 Suddenly a
whirlwind of applause greeted the appearance of the prima donna。 She
came forward coquettishly to the footlights and curtsied to the
audience with infinite grace。 The brilliant light； the enthusiasm of a
vast multitude； the illusion of the stage； the glamour of a costume
which was most attractive for the time； all conspired in that woman's
favor。 Sarrasine cried aloud with pleasure。 He saw before him at that
moment the ideal beauty whose perfections he had hitherto sought here
and there in nature； taking from one model； often of humble rank； the
rounded outline of a shapely leg； from another the contour of the
breast； from another her white shoulders； stealing the neck of that
young girl； the hands of this woman； and the polished knees of yonder
child； but never able to find beneath the cold skies of Paris the rich
and satisfying creations of ancient Greece。 La Zambinella displayed in
her single person； intensely alive and delicate beyond words； all
those exquisite proportions of the female form which he had so
ardently longed to behold； and of which a sculptor is the most severe
and at the same time the most passionate judge。 She had an expressive
mouth； eyes instinct with love； flesh of dazzling whiteness。 And add
to these details； which would have filled a painter's soul with
rapture； all the marvelous charms of the Venuses worshiped and copied
by the chisel of the Greeks。 The artist did not tire of admiring the
inimitable grace with which the arms were attached to the body； the
wonderful roundness of the throat； the graceful curves described by
the eyebrows and the nose； and the perfect oval of the face； the
purity of its clean…cut lines； and the effect of the thick； drooping
lashes which bordered the large and voluptuous eyelids。 She was more
than a woman； she was a masterpiece！ In that unhoped…for creation
there was love enough to enrapture all mankind； and beauties
calculated to satisfy the most exacting critic。
〃Sarrasine devoured with his eyes what seemed to him Pygmalion's
statue descended from its pedestal。 When La Zambinella sang； he was
beside himself。 He was cold； then suddenly he felt a fire burning in
the secret depths of his being； in what； for lack of a better word； we
call the heart。 He did not applaud； he said nothing； he felt a mad
impulse； a sort of frenzy of the sort that seizes us only at the age
when there is a something indefinably terrible and infernal in our
desires。 Sarrasine longed to rush upon the stage and seize that woman。
His strength； increased a hundredfold by a moral depression impossible
to describe；for such phenomena take place in a sphere inaccessible
to human observation；insisted upon manifesting itself with
deplorable violence。 Looking at him； you would have said that he was a
cold； dull man。 Renown； science； future； life； prizes； all vanished。
〃 'To win her love or die！' Such was the sentence Sarrasine pronounced
upon himself。
〃He was so completely intoxicated that he no longer saw theatre；
audience； or actors； no longer heard the music。 Nay； more； there was
no space between him and La Zambinella； he possessed her； his eyes；
fixed steadfastly upon her； took possession of her。 An almost
diabolical power enabled him to feel the breath of that voice； to
inhale the fragrant powder with which her hair was covered； to see the
slightest inequalities of her face； to count the blue veins which
threaded their way beneath the satiny skin。 And that fresh； brisk
voice of silvery /timbre/； flexible as a thread to which the faintest
breath of air gives form； which it rolls and unrolls； tangles and
blows away； that voice attacked his heart so fiercely that he more
than once uttered an involuntary exclamation； extorted by the
convulsive ecstasy too rarely evoked by human passions。 He was soon
obliged to leave the theatre。 His trembling legs almost refused to
bear him。 He was prostrated； weak； like a nervous man who has given
way to a terrible burst of anger。 He had had such exquisite pleasure；
or perhaps had suffered so； that his life had flowed away like water
from an overturned vessel。 He felt a void within him； a sense of
goneness like the utter lack of strength which discourages a
convalescent just recovering from a serious sickness。 Overwhelmed by
inexplicable melancholy； he sat down on the steps of a church。 There；
with his back resting against a pillar； he lost himself in a fit of
meditation as confused as a dream。 Passion had dealt him a crushing
blow。 On his return to his apartments he was seized by one of those
paroxysms of activity which reveal to us the presence of new
principles in our existence。 A prey to that first fever of love which
resembles pain as much as pleasure； he sought to defeat his impatience
and his frenzy by sketching La Zambinella from memory。 It was a sort
of material meditation。 Upon one leaf La Zambinella appeared in that
pose； apparently calm and cold； affected by Raphael； Georgione； and
all the great painters。 On another； she was coyly turning her head as
she finished a roulade； and seemed to be listening to herself。
Sarrasine drew his mistress in all poses： he drew her unveiled；
seated； standing； reclining； chaste； and amorousinterpreting； thanks
to the delirious activity of his pencil； all the fanciful ideas which
beset our imagination when our thoughts are completely engrossed by a
mistress。 But his frantic thoughts outran his pencil。 He met La
Zambinella； spoke to her； entreated her； exhausted a thousand years of
life and happiness with her； placing her in all imaginable situations；
trying the future with her； so to speak。 The next day he sent his
servant to hire a box near the stage for the whole season。 Then； like
all young men of powerful feelings； he exaggerated the difficulties of
his undertaking； and gave his passion； for its first pasturage； the
joy of being able to admire his mistress without obstacle。 The golden
age of love； during which we enjoy our own sentiments； and in which we
are almost as happy by ourselves； was not likely to last long with
Sarrasine。 However； events surprised him when he was still under the
spell of that springtime hallucination； as naive as it was voluptuous。
In a week he lived a whole lifetime； occupied through the day in
molding the clay with which he succeeded in copying La Zambinella；
notwithstanding the veils； the skirts； the waists； and the bows of
ribbon which concealed her from him。 In the evening； installed at an
early hour in his box； alone； reclining on a