["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> CHAPTER LXXIII\n\n\nWhen he was deep asleep an hour afterwards, he was woken up by feeling\ntears flow over his hand. \"Oh, it is Mathilde again,\" he thought, only\nhalf awake. \"She has come again, faithful to her tactics of attacking\nmy resolution by her sentimentalism.\" Bored by the prospect of this\nnew scene of hackneyed pathos he did not open his eyes. The verses of\nBelphgor, as he ran away from his wife, came into his mind. He heard a\nstrange sigh. He opened his eyes. It was madame de Renal. \"Ah, so I see you again before I die, or is it an illusion,\" he\nexclaimed as he threw himself at her feet. \"But, forgive me, madame, you must look upon me as a mere murderer,\" he\nsaid, immediately, as he recovered himself. \"Monsieur, I have come to entreat you to appeal; I know you do not want\nto....\" her sobs choked her; she was unable to speak. \"Deign to forgive me.\" \"If you want me to forgive you,\" she said to him, getting up and\nthrowing herself into his arms, \"appeal immediately against your death\nsentence.\" Julien covered her with kisses. \"Will you come and see me every day during those two months?\" \"I swear it--every day, unless my husband forbids me.\" \"I will sign it,\" exclaimed Julien. \"What! you really forgive me! Is it possible?\" He clasped her in his arms; he was mad. She gave a little cry. \"It is nothing,\" she said to him. \"You hurt me.\" \"Your shoulder,\" exclaimed Julien, bursting into tears. He drew back\na little, and covered her hands with kisses of fire. \"Who could\nhave prophesied this, dear, the last time I saw you in your room at\nVerrieres?\" \"Who could have prophesied then that I should write that infamous\nletter to M. de la Mole?\" \"Know that I have always loved you, and that I have never loved anyone\nbut you.\" \"Is it possible?\" cried Madame de Renal, who was delighted in her turn. She leant on Julien, who was on his knees, and they cried silently for\na long time. Julien had never experienced moments like this at any period of his\nwhole life. \"And how about that young madame Michelet?\" said Madame de Renal, a\nlong time afterwards when they were able to speak. \"Or rather, that\nmademoiselle de la Mole? for I am really beginning to believe in that\nstrange romance.\" \"It is only superficially true,\" answered Julien. \"She is my wife, but\nshe is not my mistress.\" After interrupting each other a hundred times over, they managed with\ngreat difficulty to explain to each other what they did not know. The\nletter written to M. de la Mole had been drafted by the young priest\nwho directed Madame de Renal's conscience, and had been subsequently\ncopied by her, \"What a horrible thing religion has made me do,\" she\nsaid to him, \"and even so I softened the most awful passages in the\nletter.\" Julien's ecstatic happiness proved the fulness of her forgiveness. He\nhad never been so mad with love. \"And yet I regard myself as devout,\" madame de Renal went on to say to\nhim in the ensuing conversation. \"I believe sincerely in God! I equally\nbelieve, and I even have full proof of it, that the crime which I am\ncommitting is an awful one, and yet the very minute I see you, even\nafter you have fired two pistol shots at me--\" and at this point, in\nspite of her resistance, Julien covered her with kisses. \"Leave me alone,\" she continued, \"I want to argue with you, I am\nfrightened lest I should forget.... The very minute I see you all my\nduties disappear. I have nothing but love for you, dear, or rather, the\nword love is too weak. I feel for you what I ought only to feel for\nGod; a mixture of respect, love, obedience.... As a matter of fact, I\ndon't know what you inspire me with.... If you were to tell me to stab\nthe gaoler with a knife, the crime would be committed before I had\ngiven it a thought. Explain this very clearly to me before I leave you. I want to see down to the bottom of my heart; for we shall take leave\nof each other in two months.... By the bye, shall we take leave of each\nother?\" she said to him with a smile. \"I take back my words,\" exclaimed Julien, getting up, \"I shall not\nappeal from my death sentence, if you try, either by poison, knife,\npistol, charcoal, or any other means whatsoever, to put an end to your\nlife, or make any attempt upon it.\" Madame de Renal's expression suddenly changed. The most lively\ntenderness was succeeded by a mood of deep meditation. \"Supposing we were to die at once,\" she said to him. \"Who knows what one will find in the other life,\" answered Julien,\n\"perhaps torment, perhaps nothing at all. Cannot we pass two delicious\nmonths together? Two months means a good many days. I shall never have\nbeen so happy.\" \"You will never have been so happy?\" \"Never,\" repeated Julien ecstatically, \"and I am talking to you just as\nI should talk to myself. May God save me from exaggerating.\" \"Words like that are a command,\" she said with a timid melancholy smile. \"Well, you will swear by the love you have for me, to make no attempt\neither direct or indirect, upon your life ... remember,\" he added,\n\"that you must live for my son, whom Mathilde will hand over to lackeys\nas soon as she is marquise de Croisenois.\" \"I swear,\" she answered coldly, \"but I want to take away your notice\nof appeal, drawn and signed by yourself. I will go myself to M. the\nprocureur-general.\" \"Be careful, you will compromise yourself.\" \"After having taken the step of coming to see you in your prison, I\nshall be a heroine of local scandal for Besancon, and the whole of\nFranche-Comte,\" she said very dejectedly. \"I have crossed the bounds of\naustere modesty.... I am a woman who has lost her honour; it is true\nthat it is for your sake....\"\n\nHer tone was so sad that Julien embraced her with a happiness which was\nquite novel to him. It was no longer the intoxication of love, it was\nextreme gratitude. He had just realised for the first time the full\nextent of the sacrifice which she had made for him. Some charitable soul, no doubt informed M. de Renal of the long visits\nwhich his wife paid to Julien's prison; for at the end of three days\nhe sent her his carriage with the express order to return to Verrieres\nimmediately. This cruel separation had been a bad beginning for Julien's day. He\nwas informed two or three hours later that a certain intriguing priest\n(who had, however, never managed to make any headway among the Jesuits\nof Besancon) had, since the morning, established himself in the street\noutside the prison gates. It was raining a great deal, and the man out\nthere was pretending to play the martyr. Julien was in a weak mood, and\nthis piece of stupidity annoyed him deeply. In the morning, he had already refused this priest's visit, but the man\nhad taken it into his head to confess Julien, and to win a name for\nhimself among the young women of Besancon by all the confidences which\nhe would pretend to have received from him. He declared in a loud voice that he would pass the day and the night by\nthe prison gates. \"God has sent me to touch the heart of this apostate\n...\" and the lower classes, who are always curious to see a scene,\nbegan to make a crowd. \"Yes, my brothers,\" he said to them, \"I will pass the day here and the\nnight, as well as all the days and all the nights which will follow. The Holy Ghost has spoken to me. I am commissioned from above; I am the\nman who must save the soul of young Sorel. Do you join in my prayers,\netc.\" Julien had a horror of scandal, and of anything which could attract\nattention to him. He thought of seizing the opportunity of escaping\nfrom the world incognito; but he had some hope of seeing madame de\nRenal again, and he was desperately in love. The prison gates were situated in one of the most populous streets. His\nsoul was tortured by the idea of this filthy priest attracting a crowd\nand creating a scandal--\"and doubtless he is repeating my name at every\nsingle minute!\" This moment was more painful than death.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He called the turnkey who was devoted to him, and sent sent him two or\nthree times at intervals of one hour to see if the priest was still by\nthe prison gates. \"Monsieur,\" said the turnkey to him on each occasion, \"he is on both\nhis knees in the mud; he is praying at the top of his voice, and saying\nlitanies for your soul. \"The impudent fellow,\" thought Julien. At this moment he actually heard\na dull buzz. It was the responses of the people to the litanies. His\npatience was strained to the utmost when he saw the turnkey himself\nmove his lips while he repeated the Latin words. \"They are beginning to say,\" added the turnkey, \"that you must have a\nvery hardened heart to refuse the help of this holy man.\" \"Oh my country, how barbarous you still are!\" exclaimed Julien, beside\nhimself with anger. And he continued his train of thought aloud,\nwithout giving a thought to the turn-key's presence. \"The man wants an article in the paper about him, and that's a way in\nwhich he will certainly get it. \"Oh you cursed provincials! At Paris I should not be subjected to all\nthese annoyances. There they are more skilled in their charlatanism. \"Show in the holy priest,\" he said at last to the turnkey, and great\nstreams of sweat flowed down his forehead. The turnkey made the sign of\nthe cross and went out rejoicing. The holy priest turned out to be very ugly, he was even dirtier than he\nwas ugly. The cold rain intensified the obscurity and dampness of the\ncell. The priest wanted to embrace Julien, and began to wax pathetic as\nhe spoke to him. The basest hypocrisy was only too palpable; Julien had\nnever been so angry in his whole life. A quarter of an hour after the priest had come in Julien felt an\nabsolute coward. Death appeared horrible to him for the first time. He\nbegan to think about the state of decomposition which his body would be\nin two days after the execution, etc., etc. He was on the point of betraying himself by some sign of weakness or\nthrowing himself on the priest and strangling him with his chain, when\nit occurred to him to beg the holy man to go and say a good forty franc\nmass for him on that very day. It was twelve o'clock, so the priest took himself off. CHAPTER LXXIV\n\n\nAs soon as he had gone out Julien wept desperately and for a long time. He gradually admitted to himself that if madame de Renal had been at\nBesancon he would have confessed his weakness to her. The moment when\nhe was regretting the absence of this beloved woman he heard Mathilde's\nstep. \"The worst evil of being in prison,\" he thought \"is one's inability to\nclose one's door.\" All Mathilde said only irritated him. She told him that M. de Valenod had had his nomination to the\nprefectship in his pocket on the day of his trial, and had consequently\ndared to defy M. de Frilair and give himself the pleasure of condemning\nhim to death. \"Why did your friend take it into his head,\" M. de Frilair just said\nto me, \"to awaken and attack the petty vanity of that bourgeois\naristocracy. Why talk about caste? He pointed out to them what they\nought to do in their own political interest; the fools had not been\ngiving it a thought and were quite ready to weep. That caste interest\nintervened and blinded their eyes to the horror of condemning a man to\ndeath. One must admit that M. Sorel is very inexperienced. If we do not\nsucceed in saving him by a petition for a reprieve, his death will be a\nkind of suicide.\" Mathilde was careful not to tell Julien a matter concerning which she\nhad now no longer any doubts; it was that the abbe de Frilair seeing\nthat Julien was ruined, had thought that it would further his ambitious\nprojects to try and become his successor. \"Go and listen to a mass for me,\" he said to Mathilde, almost beside\nhimself with vexation and impotent rage, and leave me a moment in\npeace. Mathilde who was already very jealous of madame de Renal's\nvisits and who had just learned of her departure realised the cause of\nJulien's bad temper and burst into tears. Her grief was real; Julien saw this and was only the more irritated. He\nhad a crying need of solitude, and how was he to get it? Eventually Mathilde, after having tried to melt him by every possible\nargument, left him alone. But almost at the same moment, Fouque\npresented himself. \"I need to be alone,\" he said, to this faithful friend, and as he saw\nhim hesitate: \"I am composing a memorial for my petition for pardon ...\none thing more ... do me a favour, and never speak to me about death. If I have need of any especial services on that day, let me be the\nfirst to speak to you about it.\" When Julien had eventually procured solitude, he found himself more\nprostrate and more cowardly than he had been before. The little force\nwhich this enfeebled soul still possessed had all been spent in\nconcealing his condition from mademoiselle de la Mole. Towards the evening he found consolation in this idea. \"If at the very moment this morning, when death seemed so ugly to\nme, I had been given notice of my execution, the public eye would\nhave acted as a spur to glory, my demeanour would perhaps have had a\ncertain stiffness about it, like a nervous fop entering a salon. A few\npenetrating people, if there are any amongst these provincial might\nhave managed to divine my weakness.... But no one would have seen it.\" And he felt relieved of part of his unhappiness. \"I am a coward at this\nvery moment,\" he sang to himself, \"but no one will know it.\" An even more unpleasant episode awaited him on the following day. His\nfather had been announcing that he would come and see him for some time\npast: the old white-haired carpenter appeared in Julien's cell before\nhe woke up. Julien felt weak, he was anticipating the most unpleasant reproaches. His painful emotion was intensified by the fact that on this particular\nmorning he felt a keen remorse for not loving his father. \"Chance placed us next to each other in the world,\" he said to himself,\nwhile the turnkey was putting the cell a little in order, \"and we have\npractically done each other all the harm we possibly could. He has come\nto administer the final blow at the moment of my death.\" As soon as they were without witnesses, the old man commenced his stern\nreproaches. Julien could not restrain his tears. \"What an unworthy weakness,\" he\nsaid to himself querulously. \"He will go about everywhere exaggerating\nmy lack of courage: what a triumph for the Valenod, and for all the\nfatuous hypocrites who rule in Verrieres! They are very great in\nFrance, they combine all the social advantages. But hitherto, I could\nat any rate say to myself, it is true they are in receipt of money, and\nthat all the honours lavished on them, but I have a noble heart. \"But here is a witness whom everyone will believe, and who will testify\nto the whole of Verrieres that I shewed weakness when confronted with\ndeath, and who will exaggerate it into the bargain! I shall be taken\nfor a coward in an ordeal which comes home to all!\" Julien was nearly desperate. He did not know how to get rid of his\nfather. He felt it absolutely beyond his strength to invent a ruse\ncapable of deceiving so shrewd an old man. His mind rapidly reviewed all the alternatives. \"I have saved some\nmoney,\" he suddenly exclaimed. This inspiration produced a change in the expression of the old man and\nin Julien's own condition. \"How ought I to dispose of it?\" continued Julien more quietly. The\nresult had freed him from any feeling of inferiority. The old carpenter was burning not to let the money slip by him, but\nit seemed that Julien wanted to leave part of it to his brothers. He\ntalked at length and with animation. Julien felt cynical. \"Well, the Lord has given me a message with regard to my will. I will\ngive a thousand francs to each of my brothers and the rest to you.\" \"Very good,\" said the old man. \"The rest is due to me: but since God\nhas been gracious enough to touch your heart, your debts ought to be\npaid if you wish to die like a good Christian. There are, moreover, the\nexpenses of your board and your education, which I advanced to you,\nbut which you are not thinking of.\" \"Such is paternal love,\" repeated Julien to himself, dejectedly, when\nhe was at last alone. Soon the gaoler appeared. \"Monsieur, I always bring my visitors a good bottle of champagne after\nnear relations have come to see them.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-06 The user is reading a book]\n<User> It is a little dear, six francs a\nbottle, but it rejoices the heart.\" \"Bring three glasses,\" said Julien to him, with a childish eagerness,\n\"and bring in two of the prisoners whom I have heard walking about\nin the corridor.\" The gaoler brought two men into him who had once\nbeen condemned to the gallows, and had now been convicted of the same\noffence again, and were preparing to return to penal servitude. They\nwere very cheerful scoundrels, and really very remarkable by reason of\ntheir subtlety, their courage, and their coolness. \"If you give me twenty francs,\" said one of them to Julien, \"I will\ntell you the story of my life in detail. It's rich.\" \"But you will lie,\" said Julien. \"Not me,\" he answered, \"my friend there, who is jealous of my twenty\nfrancs will give me away if I say anything untrue.\" His history was atrocious. It was evidence of a courageous heart which\nhad only one passion--that of money. After their departure Julien was no longer the same man. All his anger\nwith himself had disappeared. The awful grief which had been poisoned\nand rendered more acute by the weakness of which he had been a victim\nsince madame de Renal's departure had turned to melancholy. \"If I had been less taken in by appearances,\" he said to himself, \"I\nwould have had a better chance of seeing that the Paris salons are full\nof honest men like my father, or clever scoundrels like those felons. They are right. The men in the salons never get up in the morning with\nthis poignant thought in their minds, how am I going to get my dinner? They boast about their honesty and when they are summoned on the jury,\nthey take pride in convicting the man who has stolen a silver dish\nbecause he felt starving. \"But if there is a court, and it's a question of losing or winning a\nportfolio, my worthy salon people will commit crimes exactly similar to\nthose, which the need of getting a dinner inspired those two felons to\nperpetrate. \"There is no such thing as natural law, the expression is nothing\nmore than a silly anachronism well worthy of the advocate-general who\nharried me the other day, and whose grandfather was enriched by one of\nthe confiscations of Louis XIV. There is no such thing as right, except\nwhen there is a law to forbid a certain thing under pain of punishment. \"Before law existed, the only natural thing was the strength of the\nlion, or the need of a creature who was cold or hungry, to put it\nin one word, need. No, the people whom the world honours are merely\nvillains who have had the good fortune not to have been caught\nred-handed. The prosecutor whom society put on my track was enriched by\nan infamous act. I have committed a murder, and I am justly condemned,\nbut the Valenod who has condemned me, is by reason alone of that very\ndeed, a hundred times more harmful to society. \"Well,\" added Julien sadly but not angrily, \"in spite of his avarice,\nmy father is worth more than all those men. He never loved me. The disgrace I bring upon him by an infamous death has proved the\nlast straw. That fear of lacking money, that distorted view of the\nwickedness of mankind, which is called avarice, make him find a\ntremendous consolation and sense of security in a sum of three or four\nhundred louis, which I have been able to leave him. Some Sunday, after\ndinner, he will shew his gold to all the envious men in Verrieres. 'Which of you would not be delighted to have a son guillotined at a\nprice like this,' will be the message they will read in his eyes.\" This philosophy might be true, but it was of such a character as to\nmake him wish for death. In this way five long days went by. He was\npolite and gentle to Mathilde, whom he saw was exasperated by the\nmost violent jealousy. One evening Julien seriously thought of taking\nhis own life. His soul was demoralised by the deep unhappiness in\nwhich madame de Renal's departure had thrown him. He could no longer\nfind pleasure in anything, either in real life or in the sphere of\nthe imagination. Lack of exercise began to affect his health, and\nto produce in him all the weakness and exaltation of a young German\nstudent. He began to lose that virile disdain which repels with a\ndrastic oath certain undignified ideas which besiege the soul of the\nunhappy. \"I loved truth.... Where is it? Hypocrisy everywhere or at any rate\ncharlatanism. Even in the most virtuous, even in the greatest,\" and his\nlips assumed an expression of disgust. \"No, man cannot trust man.\" \"Madame de ---- when she was making a collection for her poor orphans,\nused to tell me that such and such a prince had just given ten louis, a\nsheer lie. But what am I talking about. Napoleon at St. Helena ... Pure\ncharlatanism like the proclamation in favour of the king of Rome. \"Great God! If a man like that at a time when misfortune ought to\nsummon him sternly to his duty will sink to charlatanism, what is one\nto expect from the rest of the human species?\" \"Where is truth? In religion. Yes,\" he added, with a bitter smile\nof utter contempt. \"In the mouth of the Maslons, the Frilairs, the\nCastanedes--perhaps in that true Christianity whose priests were not\npaid any more than were the apostles. But St. Paul was paid by the\npleasure of commanding, speaking, getting himself talked about.\" \"Oh, if there were only a true religion. Fool that I am. I see a Gothic\ncathedral and venerable stained-glass windows, and my weak heart\nconjures up the priest to fit the scene. My soul would understand him,\nmy soul has need of him. I only find a nincompoop with dirty hair. About as comforting as a chevalier de Beauvoisis. \"But a true priest, a Massillon, a Fenelon. Massillon sacrificed\nDubois. Saint-Simon's memoirs have spoilt the illusion of Fenelon, but\nhe was a true priest anyway. In those days, tender souls could have a\nplace in the world where they could meet together. We should not then\nhave been isolated. That good priest would have talked to us of God. But what God? Not the one of the Bible, a cruel petty despot, full of\nvindictiveness, but the God of Voltaire, just, good, infinite.\" He was troubled by all the memories of that Bible which he knew by\nheart. \"But how on earth, when the deity is three people all at the\nsame time, is one to believe in the great name of GOD, after the\nfrightful way in which our priests have abused it.\" \"Living alone. What a torture.\" \"I am growing mad and unreasonable,\" said Julien to himself, striking\nhis forehead. \"I am alone here in this cell, but I have not lived\nalone on earth. I had the powerful idea of duty. The duty which rightly\nor wrongly I laid down for myself, has been to me like the trunk of a\nsolid tree which I could lean on during the storm, I stumbled, I was\nagitated. After all I was only a man, but I was not swept away. \"It must be the damp air of this cell which made me think of being\nalone. \"Why should I still play the hypocrite by cursing hypocrisy? It is\nneither death, nor the cell, nor the damp air, but madame de Renal's\nabsence which prostrates me. If, in order to see her at Verrieres, I\nhad to live whole weeks at Verrieres concealed in the cellars of her\nhouse, would I complain?\" \"The influence of my contemporaries wins the day,\" he said aloud, with\na bitter laugh. \"Though I am talking to myself and within an ace of\ndeath, I still play the hypocrite. Oh you nineteenth century! A hunter\nfires a gun shot in the forest, his quarry falls, he hastens forward\nto seize it. His foot knocks against a two-foot anthill, knocks down\nthe dwelling place of the ants, and scatters the ants and their eggs\nfar and wide. The most philosophic among the ants will never be able to\nunderstand that black, gigantic and terrifying body, the hunter's boot,\nwhich suddenly invaded their home with incredible rapidity, preceded by\na frightful noise, and accompanied by flashes of reddish fire.\" \"In the same way, death, life and eternity, are very simple things for\nanyone who has organs sufficiently vast to conceive them. An ephemeral\nfly is born at nine o'clock in the morning in the long summer days, to\ndie at five o'clock in the evening. How is it to understand the word\n'night'?\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-06, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Give it five more hours of existence, and it will see night, and\nunderstand its meaning.\" \"So, in my case, I shall die at the age of twenty-three. Give me five\nmore years of life in order to live with madame de Renal.\" He began to laugh like Mephistopheles. How foolish to debate these\ngreat problems. \"(1). I am as hypocritical as though there were someone there to listen\nto me. \"(2). I am forgetting to live and to love when I have so few days left\nto live. Alas, madame de Renal is absent; perhaps her husband will\nnot let her come back to Besancon any more, to go on compromising her\nhonour.\" \"That is what makes me lonely, and not the absence of a God who is\njust, good and omnipotent, devoid of malice, and in no wise greedy of\nvengeance.\" \"Oh, if He did exist. Alas I should fall at His feet. I have deserved\ndeath, I should say to Him, but oh Thou great God, good God, indulgent\nGod, give me back her whom I love!\" By this time the night was far advanced. After an hour or two of\npeaceful sleep, Fouque arrived. Julien felt strongly resolute, like a man who sees to the bottom of his\nsoul. CHAPTER LXXV\n\n\n\"I cannot play such a trick on that poor abbe Chas-Bernard, as to\nsummon him,\" he said to Fouque: \"it would prevent him from dining for\nthree whole days.--But try and find some Jansenist who is a friend of\nM. Pirard.\" Fouque was impatiently waiting for this suggestion. Julien acquitted\nhimself becomingly of all the duty a man owes to provincial opinion. Thanks to M. the abbe de Frilair, and in spite of his bad choice of a\nconfessor, Julien enjoyed in his cell the protection of the priestly\ncongregation; with a little more diplomacy he might have managed to\nescape. But the bad air of the cell produced its effect, and his\nstrength of mind diminished. But this only intensified his happiness at\nmadame de Renal's return. \"My first duty is towards you, my dear,\" she said as she embraced him;\n\"I have run away from Verrieres.\" Julien felt no petty vanity in his relations with her, and told her all\nhis weaknesses. She was good and charming to him. In the evening she had scarcely left the prison before she made the\npriest, who had clung on to Julien like a veritable prey, go to her\naunt's: as his only object was to win prestige among the young women\nwho belonged to good Besancon society, madame de Renal easily prevailed\nupon him to go and perform a novena at the abbey of Bray-le-Haut. No words can do justice to the madness and extravagance of Julien's\nlove. By means of gold, and by using and abusing the influence of her aunt,\nwho was devout, rich and well-known, madame de Renal managed to see him\ntwice a day. At this news, Mathilde's jealousy reached a pitch of positive madness. M. de Frilair had confessed to her that all his influence did not go\nso far as to admit of flouting the conventions by allowing her to\nsee her sweetheart more than once every day. Mathilde had madame de\nRenal followed so as to know the smallest thing she did. M. de Frilair\nexhausted all the resources of an extremely clever intellect in order\nto prove to her that Julien was unworthy of her. Plunged though she was in all these torments, she only loved him the\nmore, and made a horrible scene nearly every day. Julien wished, with all his might, to behave to the very end like an\nhonourable man towards this poor young girl whom he had so strangely\ncompromised, but the reckless love which he felt for madame de Renal\nswept him away at every single minute. When he could not manage to\npersuade Mathilde of the innocence of her rival's visits by all his\nthin excuses, he would say to himself: \"at any rate the end of the\ndrama ought to be quite near. The very fact of not being able to lie\nbetter will be an excuse for me.\" Mademoiselle de La Mole learnt of the death of the marquis de\nCroisenois. The rich M. de Thaler had indulged in some unpleasant\nremarks concerning Mathilde's disappearance: M. de Croisenois went\nand asked him to recant them: M. de Thaler showed him some anonymous\nletters which had been sent to him, and which were full of details so\nartfully put together that the poor marquis could not help catching a\nglimpse of the truth. M. de Thaler indulged in some jests which were devoid of all taste. Maddened by anger and unhappiness, M. de Croisenois demanded such\nunqualified satisfaction, that the millionaire preferred to fight a\nduel. Stupidity triumphed, and one of the most lovable of men met with\nhis death before he was twenty-four. This death produced a strange and morbid impression on Julien's\ndemoralised soul. \"Poor Croisenois,\" he said to Mathilde, \"really behaved very reasonably\nand very honourably towards us; he had ample ground for hating me and\npicking a quarrel with me, by reason of your indiscretion in your\nmother's salon; for the hatred which follows on contempt is usually\nfrenzied.\" M. de Croisenois' death changed all Julien's ideas concerning\nMathilde's future. He spent several days in proving to her that she\nought to accept the hand of M. de Luz. \"He is a nervous man, not too\nmuch of a Jesuit, and will doubtless be a candidate,\" he said to her. \"He has a more sinister and persevering ambition than poor Croisenois,\nand as there has never been a dukedom in his family, he will be only\ntoo glad to marry Julien Sorel's widow.\" \"A widow, though, who scorns the grand passions,\" answered Mathilde\ncoldly, \"for she has lived long enough to see her lover prefer to\nher after six months another woman who was the origin of all their\nunhappiness.\" \"You are unjust! Madame de Renal's visits will furnish my advocate\nat Paris, who is endeavouring to procure my pardon, with the subject\nmatter for some sensational phrases; he will depict the murderer\nhonoured by the attention of his victim. That may produce an\nimpression, and perhaps some day or other, you will see me provide the\nplot of some melodrama or other, etc., etc.\" A furious and impotent jealousy, a prolonged and hopeless unhappiness\n(for even supposing Julien was saved, how was she to win back his\nheart? ), coupled with her shame and anguish at loving this unfaithful\nlover more than ever had plunged mademoiselle de la Mole into a gloomy\nsilence, from which all the careful assiduity of M. de Frilair was as\nlittle able to draw her as the rugged frankness of Fouque. As for Julien, except in those moments which were taken up by\nMathilde's presence, he lived on love with scarcely a thought for the\nfuture. \"In former days,\" Julien said to her, \"when I might have been so happy,\nduring our walks in the wood of Vergy, a frenzied ambition swept my\nsoul into the realms of imagination. Instead of pressing to my heart\nthat charming arm which is so near my lips, the thoughts of my future\ntook me away from you; I was engaged in countless combats which I\nshould have to sustain in order to lay the foundations of a colossal\nfortune. No, I should have died without knowing what happiness was if\nyou had not come to see me in this prison.\" Two episodes ruffled this tranquil life. Julien's confessor, Jansenist\nthough he was, was not proof against an intrigue of the Jesuits, and\nbecame their tool without knowing it. He came to tell him one day that unless he meant to fall into the awful\nsin of suicide, he ought to take every possible step to procure his\npardon. Consequently, as the clergy have a great deal of influence with\nthe minister of Justice at Paris, an easy means presented itself; he\nought to become converted with all publicity. \"With publicity,\" repeated Julien. \"Ha, Ha! I have caught you at it--I\nhave caught you as well, my father, playing a part like any missionary.\" \"Your youth,\" replied the Jansenist gravely, \"the interesting\nappearance which Providence has given you, the still unsolved mystery\nof the motive for your crime, the heroic steps which mademoiselle de\nla Mole has so freely taken on your behalf, everything, up to the\nsurprising affection which your victim manifests towards you, has\ncontributed to make you the hero of the young women of Besancon. They have forgotten everything, even politics, on your account.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-11 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Your\nconversion will reverberate in their hearts and will leave behind it a\ndeep impression. You can be of considerable use to religion, and I was\nabout to hesitate for the trivial reason that in a similar circumstance\nthe Jesuits would follow a similar course. But if I did, even in the\none case which has escaped their greedy clutches they would still be\nexercising their mischief. The tears which your conversation will\ncause to be shed will annul the poisonous effect of ten editions of\nVoltaire's works.\" \"And what will be left for me,\" answered Julien, coldly, \"if I despise\nmyself? I have been ambitious; I do not mean to blame myself in any\nway. Further, I have acted in accordance with the code of the age. Now\nI am living from day to day. But I should make myself very unhappy\nif I were to yield to what the locality would regard as a piece of\ncowardice....\"\n\nMadame de Renal was responsible for the other episode which affected\nJulien in quite another way. Some intriguing woman friend or other had\nmanaged to persuade this naive and timid soul that it was her duty\nto leave for St. Cloud, and go and throw herself at the feet of King\nCharles X. She had made the sacrifice of separating from Julien, and after\na strain as great as that, she no longer thought anything of the\nunpleasantness of making an exhibition of herself, though in former\ntimes she would have thought that worse than death. \"I will go to the king. I will confess freely that you are my lover. The life of a man, and of a man like Julien, too, ought to prevail over\nevery consideration. I will tell him that it was because of jealousy\nthat you made an attempt upon my life. There are numerous instances of\npoor young people who have been saved in such a case by the clemency of\nthe jury or of the king.\" \"I will leave off seeing you; I will shut myself up in my prison,\"\nexclaimed Julien, \"and you can be quite certain that if you do not\npromise me to take no step which will make a public exhibition of us\nboth, I will kill myself in despair the day afterwards. This idea of\ngoing to Paris is not your own. Tell me the name of the intriguing\nwoman who suggested it to you. \"Let us be happy during the small number of days of this short life. Let us hide our existence; my crime was only too self-evident. Mademoiselle de la Mole enjoys all possible influence at Paris. Take\nit from me that she has done all that is humanly possible. Here in\nthe provinces I have all the men of wealth and prestige against me. Your conduct will still further aggravate those rich and essentially\nmoderate people to whom life comes so easy.... Let us not give the\nMaslons, the Valenods, and the thousand other people who are worth more\nthan they, anything to laugh about.\" Julien came to find the bad air of the cell unbearable. Fortunately,\nnature was rejoicing in a fine sunshine on the day when they announced\nto him that he would have to die, and he was in a courageous vein. He found walking in the open air as delicious a sensation as the\nnavigator, who has been at sea for a long time, finds walking on the\nground. \"Come on, everything is going all right,\" he said to himself. \"I am not lacking in courage.\" His head had never looked so poetical as at that moment when it was on\nthe point of falling. The sweet minutes which he had formerly spent in\nthe woods of Vergy crowded back upon his mind with extreme force. Everything went off simply, decorously, and without any affectation on\nhis part. Two days before he had said to Fouque: \"I cannot guarantee not to\nshow some emotion. This dense, squalid cell gives me fits of fever in\nwhich I do not recognise myself, but fear?--no! I shall not be seen to\nflinch.\" He had made his arrangements in advance for Fouque to take Mathilde and\nmadame de Renal away on the morning of his last day. \"Drive them away in the same carriage,\" he had said. \"Do you see that\nthe post-horses do not leave off galloping. They will either fall into\neach other's arms, or manifest towards each other a mortal hatred. In either case the poor women will have something to distract them a\nlittle from their awful grief.\" Julien had made madame de Renal swear that she would live to look after\nMathilde's son. \"Who knows? Perhaps we have still some sensations after our death,\" he\nhad said one day to Fouque. \"I should like to rest, for rest is the\nright word, in that little grotto in the great mountain which dominates\nVerrieres. Many a time, as I have told you, I have spent the night\nalone in that grotto, and as my gaze would plunge far and wide over the\nrichest provinces of France, ambition would inflame my heart. In those\ndays it was my passion.... Anyway, I hold that grotto dear, and one\ncannot dispute that its situation might well arouse the desires of the\nphilosopher's soul.... Well, you know! those good priests of Besancon\nwill make money out of everything. If you know how to manage it, they\nwill sell you my mortal remains.\" Fouque succeeded in this melancholy business. He was passing the night\nalone in his room by his friend's body when, to his great surprise, he\nsaw Mathilde come in. A few hours before he had left her ten leagues\nfrom Besancon. Her face and eyes looked distraught. \"I want to see him,\" she said. Fouque had not the courage either to speak or get up. He pointed with\nhis finger to a big blue cloak on the floor; there was wrapped in it\nall that remained of Julien. She threw herself on her knees. The memory of Boniface de la Mole, and\nof Marguerite of Navarre gave her, no doubt, a superhuman courage. Her\ntrembling hands undid the cloak. Fouque turned away his eyes. He heard Mathilde walking feverishly about the room. She lit several\ncandles. When Fouque could bring himself to look at her, she had placed\nJulien's head on a little marble table in front of her, and was kissing\nit on the forehead. Mathilde followed her lover to the tomb which he had chosen. A great\nnumber of priests convoyed the bier, and, alone in her draped carriage,\nwithout anyone knowing it, she carried on her knees the head of the man\nwhom she had loved so much. When they arrived in this way at the most elevated peak of the high\nmountains of the Jura, twenty priests celebrated the service of the\ndead in the middle of the night in this little grotto, which was\nmagnificently illuminated by a countless number of wax candles. Attracted by this strange and singular ceremony, all the inhabitants\nof the little mountain villages which the funeral had passed through,\nfollowed it. Mathilde appeared in their midst in long mourning garments, and had\nseveral thousands of five-franc pieces thrown to them at the end of the\nservice. When she was left alone with Fouque, she insisted on burying her\nlover's head with her own hands. Fouque nearly went mad with grief. Mathilde took care that this wild grotto should be decorated with\nmarble monuments that had been sculpted in Italy at great expense. Madame de Renal kept her promise. She did not try to make any attempt\nupon her life; but she died embracing her children, three days after\nJulien. THE END.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-11, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-11", "answer": "Julien, Mme. de Renal, Mathilde, M. de Renal, Valenod, ambitious priest, Verrieres, prison cell, Besancon, confession, reprieve, execution, Saint-Cloud, Sorel, Julien's father, brothers, champagne, other prisoners, life story, gloomy meditations, provincial public opinion, Jansenist, conversion, masses for the poor, M. de Croisenois, duel, Fouque, burial, high hill, procession, Julien's head, aunt, death of Julien, death of Mme. de Renal, treachery, honor, rejection, bequeath money, daily visits, mass, lost souls, Church"}]