scarcely dined!"

CHAPTER VII.

Madame Sand--Lelia--Visit to Majorca--Exclusive Ideals.

In 1836 Madame Sand had not only published INDIANA, VALENTINE, and
JACQUES, but also LELIA, that prose poem of which she afterwards said:
"If I regret having written it, it is because I could not now write it.
Were I in the same state of mind now as when it was written, it would
indeed be a great consolation to me to be able to commence it." The
mere painting of romances in cold water colors must have seemed, without
doubt, dull to Madame Sand, after having handled the hammer and
chisel of the sculptor so boldly, in modeling the grand lines of that
semi-colossal statue, in cutting those sinewy muscles, which even in
their statuesque immobility, are full of bewildering and seductive
charm. Should we continue long to gaze upon it, it excites the most
painful emotion. In strong contrast to the miracle of Pygmalion, Lelia
seems a living Galatea, rich in feeling, full of love, whom the deeply
enamored artist has tried to bury alive in his exquisitely sculptured
marble, stifling the palpitating breath, and congealing the warm blood
in the vain hope of elevating and immortalizing the beauty he adores. In
the presence of this vivid nature petrified by art, we cannot feel
that admiration is kindled into love, but, saddened and chilled, we are
forced to acknowledge that love may be frozen into mere admiration.

Brown and olive-hued Lelia! Dark as Lara, despairing as Manfred,
rebellious as Cain, thou hast ranged through the depths of solitude!
But thou art more ferocious, more savage, more inconsolable than they,
because thou hast never found a man's heart sufficiently feminine to
love thee as they were loved, to pay the homage of a confiding and
blind submission to thy virile charms, to offer thee a mute yet ardent
devotion, to suffer its obedience to be protected by thy Amazonian
force! Woman-hero! Like the Amazons, thou hast been valiant and eager
for combats; like them thou hast not feared to expose the exquisite
loveliness of thy face to the fierceness of the summer's sun, or the
sharp blasts of winter! Thou hast hardened thy fragile limbs by the
endurance of fatigue, thus robbing them of the subtle power of their
weakness! Thou hast covered thy palpitating breast with a heavy cuirass,
which has pressed and torn it, dyeing its snow in blood;--that gentle
woman's bosom, charming as life, discreet as the grave, which is
always