[英语园地] 悲惨世界（Les Miserables）

CHAPTER XII    THE BISHOP WORKS Chinese The next morning at sunrise Monseigneur Bienvenu was strolling in his garden. Madame Magloire ran up to him in utter consternation. "Monseigneur, Monseigneur!" she exclaimed, "does your Grace know where the basket of silver is?" "Yes," replied the Bishop. "Jesus the Lord be blessed!" she resumed; "I did not know what had become of it." The Bishop had just picked up the basket in a flower-bed. He presented it to Madame Magloire. "Here it is." "Well!" said she. "Nothing in it! And the silver?" "Ah," returned the Bishop, "so it is the silver which troubles you? I don't know where it is." "Great, good God! It is stolen! That man who was here last night has stolen it." In a twinkling, with all the vivacity of an alert old woman, Madame Magloire had rushed to the oratory, entered the alcove, and returned to the Bishop. The Bishop had just bent down, and was sighing as he examined a plant of cochlearia des Guillons, which the basket had broken as it fell across the bed. He rose up at Madame Magloire's cry. "Monseigneur, the man is gone! The silver has been stolen!" As she uttered this exclamation, her eyes fell upon a corner of the garden, where traces of the wall having been scaled were visible. The coping of the wall had been torn away. "Stay! yonder is the way he went. He jumped over into Cochefilet Lane. Ah, the abomination! He has stolen our silver!" The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he raised his grave eyes, and said gently to Madame Magloire:-- "And, in the first place, was that silver ours?" Madame Magloire was speechless. Another silence ensued; then the Bishop went on:-- "Madame Magloire, I have for a long time detained that silver wrongfully. It belonged to the poor. Who was that man? A poor man, evidently." "Alas! Jesus!" returned Madame Magloire. "It is not for my sake, nor for Mademoiselle's. It makes no difference to us. But it is for the sake of Monseigneur. What is Monseigneur to eat with now?" The Bishop gazed at her with an air of amazement. "Ah, come! Are there no such things as pewter forks and spoons?" Madame Magloire shrugged her shoulders. "Pewter has an odor." "Iron forks and spoons, then." Madame Magloire made an expressive grimace. "Iron has a taste." "Very well," said the Bishop; "wooden ones then." A few moments later he was breakfasting at the very table at which Jean Valjean had sat on the previous evening. As he ate his breakfast, Monseigneur Welcome remarked gayly to his sister, who said nothing, and to Madame Magloire, who was grumbling under her breath, that one really does not need either fork or spoon, even of wood, in order to dip a bit of bread in a cup of milk. "A pretty idea, truly," said Madame Magloire to herself, as she went and came, "to take in a man like that! and to lodge him close to one's self! And how fortunate that he did nothing but steal! Ah, mon Dieu! it makes one shudder to think of it!" As the brother and sister were about to rise from the table, there came a knock at the door. "Come in," said the Bishop. The door opened. A singular and violent group made its appearance on the threshold. Three men were holding a fourth man by the collar. The three men were gendarmes; the other was Jean Valjean. A brigadier of gendarmes, who seemed to be in command of the group, was standing near the door. He entered and advanced to the Bishop, making a military salute. "Monseigneur--" said he. At this word, Jean Valjean, who was dejected and seemed overwhelmed, raised his head with an air of stupefaction. "Monseigneur!" he murmured. "So he is not the cure?" "Silence!" said the gendarme. "He is Monseigneur the Bishop." In the meantime, Monseigneur Bienvenu had advanced as quickly as his great age permitted. "Ah! here you are!" he exclaimed, looking at Jean Valjean. "I am glad to see you. Well, but how is this? I gave you the candlesticks too, which are of silver like the rest, and for which you can certainly get two hundred francs. Why did you not carry them away with your forks and spoons?" Jean Valjean opened his eyes wide, and stared at the venerable Bishop with an expression which no human tongue can render any account of. "Monseigneur," said the brigadier of gendarmes, "so what this man said is true, then? We came across him. He was walking like a man who is running away. We stopped him to look into the matter. He had this silver--" "And he told you," interposed the Bishop with a smile, "that it had been given to him by a kind old fellow of a priest with whom he had passed the night? I see how the matter stands. And you have brought him back here? It is a mistake." "In that case," replied the brigadier, "we can let him go?" "Certainly," replied the Bishop. The gendarmes released Jean Valjean, who recoiled. "Is it true that I am to be released?" he said, in an almost inarticulate voice, and as though he were talking in his sleep. "Yes, thou art released; dost thou not understand?" said one of the gendarmes. "My friend," resumed the Bishop, "before you go, here are your candlesticks. Take them." He stepped to the chimney-piece, took the two silver candlesticks, and brought them to Jean Valjean. The two women looked on without uttering a word, without a gesture, without a look which could disconcert the Bishop. Jean Valjean was trembling in every limb. He took the two candlesticks mechanically, and with a bewildered air. "Now," said the Bishop, "go in peace. By the way, when you return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass through the garden. You can always enter and depart through the street door. It is never fastened with anything but a latch, either by day or by night." Then, turning to the gendarmes:-- "You may retire, gentlemen." The gendarmes retired. Jean Valjean was like a man on the point of fainting. The Bishop drew near to him, and said in a low voice:-- "Do not forget, never forget, that you have promised to use this money in becoming an honest man." Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of ever having promised anything, remained speechless. The Bishop had emphasized the words when he uttered them. He resumed with solemnity:-- "Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God."

CHAPTER XIII    LITTLE GERVAIS Chinese Jean Valjean left the town as though he were fleeing from it. He set out at a very hasty pace through the fields, taking whatever roads and paths presented themselves to him, without perceiving that he was incessantly retracing his steps. He wandered thus the whole morning, without having eaten anything and without feeling hungry. He was the prey of a throng of novel sensations. He was conscious of a sort of rage; he did not know against whom it was directed. He could not have told whether he was touched or humiliated. There came over him at moments a strange emotion which he resisted and to which he opposed the hardness acquired during the last twenty years of his life. This state of mind fatigued him. He perceived with dismay that the sort of frightful calm which the injustice of his misfortune had conferred upon him was giving way within him. He asked himself what would replace this. At times he would have actually preferred to be in prison with the gendarmes, and that things should not have happened in this way; it would have agitated him less. Although the season was tolerably far advanced, there were still a few late flowers in the hedge-rows here and there, whose odor as he passed through them in his march recalled to him memories of his childhood. These memories were almost intolerable to him, it was so long since they had recurred to him. Unutterable thoughts assembled within him in this manner all day long. As the sun declined to its setting, casting long shadows athwart the soil from every pebble, Jean Valjean sat down behind a bush upon a large ruddy plain, which was absolutely deserted. There was nothing on the horizon except the Alps. Not even the spire of a distant village. Jean Valjean might have been three leagues distant from D----A path which intersected the plain passed a few paces from the bush. In the middle of this meditation, which would have contributed not a little to render his rags terrifying to any one who might have encountered him, a joyous sound became audible. He turned his head and saw a little Savoyard, about ten years of age, coming up the path and singing, his hurdy-gurdy on his hip, and his marmot-box on his back, One of those gay and gentle children, who go from land to land affording a view of their knees through the holes in their trousers. Without stopping his song, the lad halted in his march from time to time, and played at knuckle-bones with some coins which he had in his hand--his whole fortune, probably. Among this money there was one forty-sou piece. The child halted beside the bush, without perceiving Jean Valjean, and tossed up his handful of sous, which, up to that time, he had caught with a good deal of adroitness on the back of his hand. This time the forty-sou piece escaped him, and went rolling towards the brushwood until it reached Jean Valjean. Jean Valjean set his foot upon it. In the meantime, the child had looked after his coin and had caught sight of him. He showed no astonishment, but walked straight up to the man. The spot was absolutely solitary. As far as the eye could see there was not a person on the plain or on the path. The only sound was the tiny, feeble cries of a flock of birds of passage, which was traversing the heavens at an immense height. The child was standing with his back to the sun, which cast threads of gold in his hair and empurpled with its blood-red gleam the savage face of Jean Valjean. "Sir," said the little Savoyard, with that childish confidence which is composed of ignorance and innocence, "my money." "What is your name?" said Jean Valjean. "Little Gervais, sir." "Go away," said Jean Valjean. "Sir," resumed the child, "give me back my money." Jean Valjean dropped his head, and made no reply. The child began again, "My money, sir." Jean Valjean's eyes remained fixed on the earth. "My piece of money!" cried the child, "my white piece! my silver!" It seemed as though Jean Valjean did not hear him. The child grasped him by the collar of his blouse and shook him. At the same time he made an effort to displace the big iron-shod shoe which rested on his treasure. "I want my piece of money! my piece of forty sous!" The child wept. Jean Valjean raised his head. He still remained seated. His eyes were troubled. He gazed at the child, in a sort of amazement, then he stretched out his hand towards his cudgel and cried in a terrible voice, "Who's there?" "I, sir," replied the child. "Little Gervais! I! Give me back my forty sous, if you please! Take your foot away, sir, if you please!" Then irritated, though he was so small, and becoming almost menacing:-- "Come now, will you take your foot away? Take your foot away, or we'll see!" "Ah! It's still you!" said Jean Valjean, and rising abruptly to his feet, his foot still resting on the silver piece, he added:-- "Will you take yourself off!" The frightened child looked at him, then began to tremble from head to foot, and after a few moments of stupor he set out, running at the top of his speed, without daring to turn his neck or to utter a cry. Nevertheless, lack of breath forced him to halt after a certain distance, and Jean Valjean heard him sobbing, in the midst of his own revery. At the end of a few moments the child had disappeared. The sun had set. The shadows were descending around Jean Valjean. He had eaten nothing all day; it is probable that he was feverish. He had remained standing and had not changed his attitude after the child's flight. The breath heaved his chest at long and irregular intervals. His gaze, fixed ten or twelve paces in front of him, seemed to be scrutinizing with profound attention the shape of an ancient fragment of blue earthenware which had fallen in the grass. All at once he shivered; he had just begun to feel the chill of evening. He settled his cap more firmly on his brow, sought mechanically to cross and button his blouse, advanced a step and stopped to pick up his cudgel. At that moment he caught sight of the forty-sou piece, which his foot had half ground into the earth, and which was shining among the pebbles. It was as though he had received a galvanic shock. "What is this?" he muttered between his teeth. He recoiled three paces, then halted, without being able to detach his gaze from the spot which his foot had trodden but an instant before, as though the thing which lay glittering there in the gloom had been an open eye riveted upon him. At the expiration of a few moments he darted convulsively towards the silver coin, seized it, and straightened himself up again and began to gaze afar off over the plain, at the same time casting his eyes towards all points of the horizon, as he stood there erect and shivering, like a terrified wild animal which is seeking refuge. He saw nothing. Night was falling, the plain was cold and vague, great banks of violet haze were rising in the gleam of the twilight. He said, "Ah!" and set out rapidly in the direction in which the child had disappeared. After about thirty paces he paused, looked about him and saw nothing. Then he shouted with all his might:-- "Little Gervais! Little Gervais!" He paused and waited. There was no reply. The landscape was gloomy and deserted. He was encompassed by space. There was nothing around him but an obscurity in which his gaze was lost, and a silence which engulfed his voice. An icy north wind was blowing, and imparted to things around him a sort of lugubrious life. The bushes shook their thin little arms with incredible fury. One would have said that they were threatening and pursuing some one. He set out on his march again, then he began to run; and from time to time he halted and shouted into that solitude, with a voice which was the most formidable and the most disconsolate that it was possible to hear, "Little Gervais! Little Gervais!" Assuredly, if the child had heard him, he would have been alarmed and would have taken good care not to show himself. But the child was no doubt already far away. He encountered a priest on horseback. He stepped up to him and said:-- "Monsieur le Cure, have you seen a child pass?" "No," said the priest. "One named Little Gervais?" "I have seen no one." He drew two five-franc pieces from his money-bag and handed them to the priest. "Monsieur le Cure, this is for your poor people. Monsieur le Cure, he was a little lad, about ten years old, with a marmot, I think, and a hurdy-gurdy. One of those Savoyards, you know?" "I have not seen him." "Little Gervais? There are no villages here? Can you tell me?" "If he is like what you say, my friend, he is a little stranger. Such persons pass through these parts. We know nothing of them." Jean Valjean seized two more coins of five francs each with violence, and gave them to the priest. "For your poor," he said. Then he added, wildly:-- "Monsieur l'Abbe, have me arrested. I am a thief." The priest put spurs to his horse and fled in haste, much alarmed. Jean Valjean set out on a run, in the direction which he had first taken. In this way he traversed a tolerably long distance, gazing, calling, shouting, but he met no one. Two or three times he ran across the plain towards something which conveyed to him the effect of a human being reclining or crouching down; it turned out to be nothing but brushwood or rocks nearly on a level with the earth. At length, at a spot where three paths intersected each other, he stopped. The moon had risen. He sent his gaze into the distance and shouted for the last time, "Little Gervais! Little Gervais! Little Gervais!" His shout died away in the mist, without even awakening an echo. He murmured yet once more, "Little Gervais!" but in a feeble and almost inarticulate voice. It was his last effort; his legs gave way abruptly under him, as though an invisible power had suddenly overwhelmed him with the weight of his evil conscience; he fell exhausted, on a large stone, his fists clenched in his hair and his face on his knees, and he cried, "I am a wretch!" Then his heart burst, and he began to cry. It was the first time that he had wept in nineteen years. When Jean Valjean left the Bishop's house, he was, as we have seen, quite thrown out of everything that had been his thought hitherto. He could not yield to the evidence of what was going on within him. He hardened himself against the angelic action and the gentle words of the old man. "You have promised me to become an honest man. I buy your soul. I take it away from the spirit of perversity; I give it to the good God." This recurred to his mind unceasingly. To this celestial kindness he opposed pride, which is the fortress of evil within us. He was indistinctly conscious that the pardon of this priest was the greatest assault and the most formidable attack which had moved him yet; that his obduracy was finally settled if he resisted this clemency; that if he yielded, he should be obliged to renounce that hatred with which the actions of other men had filled his soul through so many years, and which pleased him; that this time it was necessary to conquer or to be conquered; and that a struggle, a colossal and final struggle, had been begun between his viciousness and the goodness of that man. In the presence of these lights, he proceeded like a man who is intoxicated. As he walked thus with haggard eyes, did he have a distinct perception of what might result to him from his adventure at D----? Did he understand all those mysterious murmurs which warn or importune the spirit at certain moments of life? Did a voice whisper in his ear that he had just passed the solemn hour of his destiny; that there no longer remained a middle course for him; that if he were not henceforth the best of men, he would be the worst; that it behooved him now, so to speak, to mount higher than the Bishop, or fall lower than the convict; that if he wished to become good be must become an angel; that if he wished to remain evil, he must become a monster? Here, again, some questions must be put, which we have already put to ourselves elsewhere: did he catch some shadow of all this in his thought, in a confused way? Misfortune certainly, as we have said, does form the education of the intelligence; nevertheless, it is doubtful whether Jean Valjean was in a condition to disentangle all that we have here indicated. If these ideas occurred to him, he but caught glimpses of, rather than saw them, and they only succeeded in throwing him into an unutterable and almost painful state of emotion. On emerging from that black and deformed thing which is called the galleys, the Bishop had hurt his soul, as too vivid a light would have hurt his eyes on emerging from the dark. The future life, the possible life which offered itself to him henceforth, all pure and radiant, filled him with tremors and anxiety. He no longer knew where he really was. Like an owl, who should suddenly see the sun rise, the convict had been dazzled and blinded, as it were, by virtue. That which was certain, that which he did not doubt, was that he was no longer the same man, that everything about him was changed, that it was no longer in his power to make it as though the Bishop had not spoken to him and had not touched him. In this state of mind he had encountered little Gervais, and had robbed him of his forty sous. Why? He certainly could not have explained it; was this the last effect and the supreme effort, as it were, of the evil thoughts which he had brought away from the galleys,-- a remnant of impulse, a result of what is called in statics, acquired force? It was that, and it was also, perhaps, even less than that. Let us say it simply, it was not he who stole; it was not the man; it was the beast, who, by habit and instinct, had simply placed his foot upon that money, while the intelligence was struggling amid so many novel and hitherto unheard-of thoughts besetting it. When intelligence re-awakened and beheld that action of the brute, Jean Valjean recoiled with anguish and uttered a cry of terror. It was because,--strange phenomenon, and one which was possible only in the situation in which he found himself,--in stealing the money from that child, he had done a thing of which he was no longer capable. However that may be, this last evil action had a decisive effect on him; it abruptly traversed that chaos which he bore in his mind, and dispersed it, placed on one side the thick obscurity, and on the other the light, and acted on his soul, in the state in which it then was, as certain chemical reagents act upon a troubled mixture by precipitating one element and clarifying the other. First of all, even before examining himself and reflecting, all bewildered, like one who seeks to save himself, he tried to find the child in order to return his money to him; then, when he recognized the fact that this was impossible, he halted in despair. At the moment when he exclaimed "I am a wretch!" he had just perceived what he was, and he was already separated from himself to such a degree, that he seemed to himself to be no longer anything more than a phantom, and as if he had, there before him, in flesh and blood, the hideous galley-convict, Jean Valjean, cudgel in hand, his blouse on his hips, his knapsack filled with stolen objects on his back, with his resolute and gloomy visage, with his thoughts filled with abominable projects. Excess of unhappiness had, as we have remarked, made him in some sort a visionary. This, then, was in the nature of a vision. He actually saw that Jean Valjean, that sinister face, before him. He had almost reached the point of asking himself who that man was, and he was horrified by him. His brain was going through one of those violent and yet perfectly calm moments in which revery is so profound that it absorbs reality. One no longer beholds the object which one has before one, and one sees, as though apart from one's self, the figures which one has in one's own mind. Thus he contemplated himself, so to speak, face to face, and at the same time, athwart this hallucination, he perceived in a mysterious depth a sort of light which he at first took for a torch. On scrutinizing this light which appeared to his conscience with more attention, he recognized the fact that it possessed a human form and that this torch was the Bishop. His conscience weighed in turn these two men thus placed before it,-- the Bishop and Jean Valjean. Nothing less than the first was required to soften the second. By one of those singular effects, which are peculiar to this sort of ecstasies, in proportion as his revery continued, as the Bishop grew great and resplendent in his eyes, so did Jean Valjean grow less and vanish. After a certain time he was no longer anything more than a shade. All at once he disappeared. The Bishop alone remained; he filled the whole soul of this wretched man with a magnificent radiance. Jean Valjean wept for a long time. He wept burning tears, he sobbed with more weakness than a woman, with more fright than a child. As he wept, daylight penetrated more and more clearly into his soul; an extraordinary light; a light at once ravishing and terrible. His past life, his first fault, his long expiation, his external brutishness, his internal hardness, his dismissal to liberty, rejoicing in manifold plans of vengeance, what had happened to him at the Bishop's, the last thing that he had done, that theft of forty sous from a child, a crime all the more cowardly, and all the more monstrous since it had come after the Bishop's pardon,--all this recurred to his mind and appeared clearly to him, but with a clearness which he had never hitherto witnessed. He examined his life, and it seemed horrible to him; his soul, and it seemed frightful to him. In the meantime a gentle light rested over this life and this soul. It seemed to him that he beheld Satan by the light of Paradise. How many hours did he weep thus? What did he do after he had wept? Whither did he go! No one ever knew. The only thing which seems to be authenticated is that that same night the carrier who served Grenoble at that epoch, and who arrived at D---- about three o'clock in the morning, saw, as he traversed the street in which the Bishop's residence was situated, a man in the attitude of prayer, kneeling on the pavement in the shadow, in front of the door of Monseigneur Welcome.

十三　小瑞尔威 英 文 冉阿让逃也似的出了城。他在田亩中仓皇乱窜，不问大路小路，遇着就走，也不觉得他老在原处兜圈子。他那样瞎跑了一早晨，没吃东西，也不知道饿。他被一大堆新的感触控制住了。他觉得自己怒不可遏，却又不知道怒为谁发。他说不出他是受了感动还是受了侮辱。有时他觉得心头有一种奇特的柔和滋味，他却和它抗拒，拿了他过去二十年中立志顽抗到底的心情来对抗。这种情形使他感到疲乏。过去使他受苦的那种不公平的处罚早已使他决心为恶，现在他觉得那种决心动摇了，反而感到不安。他问自己：以后将用什么志愿来代替那种决心？有时，他的确认为假使没有这些经过，他仍能和警察相处狱中，他也许还高兴些，他心中也就可以少起一些波动。当时虽然已近岁暮，可是在青树篱中，三三两两，偶然也还有几朵晚开的花，他闻到花香，触起了童年的许多往事。那些往事对他几乎是不堪回首的，他已有那么多年不去想它了。 因此，那一天，有许许多多莫名其妙的感触一齐涌上他的心头。 正当落日西沉、地面上最小的石子也拖着细长的影子时，冉阿让坐在一片绝对荒凉的红土平原中的一丛荆棘后面。远处，只望见阿尔卑斯山。连远村的钟楼也瞧不见一个。冉阿让离开迪涅城大致已有三法里了。在离开荆棘几步的地方，横着一条穿过平原的小路。 他正在胡思乱想，当时如果有人走来，见了他那种神情，必然会感到他那身褴褛衣服格外可怕。正在那时，他忽然听到一阵欢乐的声音。 他转过头，看见一个十岁左右的穷孩子顺着小路走来，嘴里唱着歌，腰间一只摇琴，背上一只田鼠笼子，这是一个那种嬉皮笑脸、四乡游荡、从裤腿窟窿里露出膝头的孩子中的一个。 那孩子一面唱，一面又不时停下来，拿着手中的几个钱，做“抓子儿”游戏，那几个钱，大致就是他的全部财产了。里面有一个值四十苏的钱。 孩子停留在那丛荆棘旁边，没有看见冉阿让，把他的一把钱抛起来，他相当灵巧，每次都个个接在手背上。 可是这一次他那个值四十苏的钱落了空，向那丛荆棘滚了去，滚到了冉阿让的脚边。 冉阿让一脚踏在上面。 可是那孩子的眼睛早随着那个钱，他看见冉阿让用脚踏着。 他一点也不惊慌，直向那人走去。 那是一处绝对没有人的地方。在视线所及的范围内，绝没有一个人在平原和小路上。他们只听见一群掠空而过的飞鸟从高空送来微弱的鸣声。那孩子背朝太阳，日光把他的头发照成缕缕金丝，用血红的光把冉阿让的凶悍的脸照成紫色。 “先生，”那穷孩子用蒙昧和天真合成的赤子之心说，“我的钱呢？” “你叫什么？”冉阿让说。 “小瑞尔威，先生。” “滚！”冉阿让说。 “先生，”那孩子又说，“请您把我的那个钱还我。” 冉阿让低下头，不答话。 那孩子再说： “我的钱，先生！” 冉阿让的眼睛仍旧盯在地上。 “我的钱！”那孩子喊起来，“我的白角子！我的银钱！” 冉阿让好象全没听见。那孩子抓住他的布衫领，推他。同时使劲推开那只压在他宝贝上面的铁钉鞋。 “我要我的钱！我要我值四十个苏的钱！” 孩子哭起来了。冉阿让抬起头，仍旧坐着不动。他眼睛的神气是迷糊不清的。他望着那孩子有点感到惊奇，随后，他伸手到放棍子的地方，大声喊道： “谁在那儿？” “是我，先生，”那孩子回答，“小瑞尔威。我！我！请您把我的四十个苏还我！把您的脚拿开，先生，求求您！” 他年纪虽小，却动了火，几乎有要硬干的神气： “哈！您究竟拿开不拿开您的脚？快拿开您的脚！听见了没有？” “呀！又是你！”冉阿让说。 随后，他忽然站起来，脚仍旧踏在银币上，接着说： “你究竟走不走！” 那孩子吓坏了，望着他，继而从头到脚哆嗦起来，发了一会呆，逃了，他拚命跑，不敢回头，也不敢叫。 但是他跑了一程过后，喘不过气了，只得停下来。冉阿让在紊乱的心情中听到了他的哭声。 过一会，那孩子不见了。 太阳也落下去了。 黑暗渐渐笼罩着冉阿让的四周。他整天没有吃东西，他也许正在发寒热。 他仍旧立着，自从那孩子逃走以后，他还没有改变他那姿势。他的呼吸，忽长忽促，胸膛随着起伏。他的眼睛盯在他前面一二十步的地方，仿佛在专心研究野草中的一块碎蓝瓷片的形状。 忽然，他哆嗦了一下，此刻他才感到夜寒。 他重新把他的鸭舌帽压紧在额头上，机械地动手去把他的布衫拉拢，扣上，走了一步，弯下腰去，从地上拾起他的棍子。 这时，他忽然看见了那个值四十个苏的钱，他的脚已把它半埋在土中了，它在石子上发出闪光。 这一下好象是触着电似的，“这是什么东西？”他咬紧牙齿说。他向后退了三步，停下来，无法把他的视线从刚才他脚踏着的那一点移开，在黑暗里闪光的那件东西，仿佛是一只盯着他的大眼睛。 几分钟过后，他慌忙向那银币猛扑过去，捏住它，立起身来，向平原的远处望去，把目光投向天边四处，站着发抖，好象一只受惊以后要找地方藏身的猛兽。 他什么也瞧不见。天黑了，平原一片苍凉。紫色的浓雾正在黄昏的微光中腾起。他说了声“呀”，急忙向那孩子逃跑的方向走去。走了百来步以后，他停下来，向前望去，可是什么也看不见。 于是他使出全身力气，喊道： “小瑞尔威！小瑞尔威！” 他住口细听。没有人回答。 那旷野是荒凉凄黯的。四周一望无际，全是荒地。除了那望不穿的黑影和叫不破的寂静以外，一无所有。 一阵冷峭的北风吹来，使他四周的东西都呈现出愁惨的景象。几棵矮树，摇着枯枝，带有一种不可思议的愤怒，仿佛要恐吓追扑什么人似的。 他再往前走，随后又跑起来，跑跑停停，在那寂寥的原野上，吼出他那无比凄惨惊人的声音： “小瑞尔威！小瑞尔威！” 如果那孩子听见了，也一定会害怕，会好好地躲起来。不过那孩子，毫无疑问，已经走远了。 他遇见一个骑马的神甫。他走到他身边，向他说： “神甫先生，您看见一个孩子走过去吗？” “没有。”神甫说。 “一个叫小瑞尔威的？” “我谁也没看见。” 他从他钱袋里取出两枚五法郎的钱，交给神甫。 “神甫先生，这是给您的穷人的。神甫先生，他是一个十岁左右的孩子，他有一只田鼠笼子，我想，还有一把摇琴。他是向那个方向走去的。他是一个通烟囱的穷孩子，您知道吗？” “我确实没有看见。” “小瑞尔威？他不是这村子里的吗？您能告诉我吗？” “如果他是象您那么说的，我的朋友，那就是一个从别处来的孩子了。他们经过这里，却不会有人认识他们。” 冉阿让另又拿出两个五法郎的钱交给神甫。 “给您的穷人。”他说。 随后他又迷乱地说： “教士先生，您去叫人来捉我吧。我是一个窃贼。” 神甫踢动双腿，催马前进，魂飞天外似的逃了。 冉阿让又朝着他先头预定的方向跑去。 他那样走了许多路，张望，叫喊，呼号，但是再也没有碰见一个人。他在那原野里，看见一点象是卧着或蹲着的东西，他就跑过去，那样前后有两三次，他见到的只是一些野草，或是露在地面上的石头，最后，他走到一个三岔路口，停下来。月亮出来了。他张望远处，作了最后一次的呼唤：“小瑞尔威！小瑞尔威！小瑞尔威！”他的呼声在暮霭中消失，连回响也没有了。他嘴里还念着：“小瑞尔威！”但是声音微弱，几乎不成字音。那是他最后的努力，他的膝弯忽然折下，仿佛他良心上的负担已成了一种无形的威力突然把他压倒了似的，他精疲力竭，倒在一块大石头上，两手握着头发，脸躲在膝头中间，他喊道： “我是一个无赖！” 他的心碎了，他哭了出来，那是他第一次流泪。 冉阿让从主教家里出来时，我们看得出来，他已完全摆脱了从前的那种思想。不过他一时还不能分辨自己的心情。他对那个老人的仁言懿行还强自抗拒。“您允诺了我做诚实人。我赎买了您的灵魂，我把它从污秽当中救出来交给慈悲的上帝。”这些话不停地回到他的脑子里。他用自己的傲气来和那种至高无上的仁德对抗，傲气真是我们心里的罪恶堡垒。他仿佛觉得，神甫的原有是使他回心转意的一种最大的迫击和最凶猛的攻势，如果他对那次恩德还要抵抗，那他就会死硬到底，永不回头；如果他屈服，他就应当放弃这许多年来别人种在他心里、也是他自鸣得意的那种仇恨。那一次是他的胜败关头，那种斗争，那种关系着全盘胜负的激烈斗争，已在他自身的凶恶和那人的慈善间展开了。 他怀着一种一知半解的心情，醉汉似的往前走。当他那样惝恍迷离往前走时，他对这次在迪涅的意外遭遇给他的后果是否有一种明确的认识呢？在人生的某些时刻，常有一种神秘的微音来惊觉或搅扰我们的心神，他是否也听到过这种微音呢？是否有种声音在他的耳边说他正在经历他生命中最严重的一刻呢？他已没有中立的余地，此后他如果不做最好的人，就会做最恶的人，现在他应当超过主教（不妨这样说），否则就会堕落到连苦役犯也不如，如果他情愿为善，就应当做天使，如果他甘心为恶，就一定做恶魔。 在此地，我们应当再提出我们曾在别处提出过的那些问题，这一切在他的思想上是否多少发生了一点影响呢？当然，我们曾经说过，艰苦的生活能教育人，能启发人，但是在冉阿让那种水平上，他是否能分析我们在此地指出的这一切，那却是一个疑问，如果他对那些思想能有所体会，那也只是一知半解，他一定看不清楚，并且那些思想也只能使他堕入一种烦恼，使他感到难堪，几乎感到痛苦。他从所谓牢狱的那种畸形而黑暗的东西里出来后，主教已伤了他的灵魂，正如一种太强烈的光会伤他那双刚从黑暗中出来的眼睛一样。将来的生活，摆在他眼前的那种永远纯洁、光彩、完全可能实现的生活，使他战栗惶感。他确实不知道怎么办。正如一只骤见日出的枭乌，这个罪犯也因见了美德而目眩，并且几乎失明。 有一点可以肯定，并且是他自己也相信的，那就是他已不是从前那个人了，他的心完全变了，他已没有能力再去做主教不曾和他谈到也不曾触及的那些事了。 在这样的思想状况下，他遇到了小瑞尔威，抢了他的四十个苏。那是为什么？他一定不能说明，难道这是他从监牢里带来的那种恶念的最后影响，好比临终的振作，冲动的余力，力学里所谓“惯性”的结果吗？是的。也许还不完全是。我们简单地说说，抢东西的并不是他，并不是他这个人，而是那只兽，当时他心里有那么多初次感到的苦恼，正当他作思想斗争时，那只兽，由于习惯和本能作用，便不自觉地把脚踏在那钱上了。等到心智清醒以后，看见了那种兽类的行为，冉阿让才感到痛心，向后退却，并且惊骇到大叫起来。 抢那孩子的钱，那已不是他下得了手的事，那次的非常现象只是在他当时的思想情况下才有发生的可能。 无论如何，这最后一次恶劣的行为对他起了一种决定性的效果。这次的恶劣行为突然穿过他的混乱思想并加以澄清，把黑暗的障碍置在一边，光明置在另一边，并且按照他当时的思想水平，影响他的心灵，正如某些化学反应体对一种混浊的混合物发生作用时的情况一样，它能使一种原素沉淀，另一种澄清。 最初，在自我检查和思考之先，他登时心情慌乱，正如一个逃命的人，狠命追赶，要找出那个孩子把钱还给他；后来等到他明白已经太迟，不可能追上时，他才大失所望，停了下来。当他喊着“我是一个无赖”时，他才看出自己是怎样一个人，在那时，他已离开他自己，仿佛觉得他自己只是一个鬼，并且看见那个有肉有骨、形相丑恶的苦役犯冉阿让就立在他面前，手里拿着棍，腰里围着布衫，背上的布袋里装满了偷来的东西，面目果决而忧郁，脑子里充满卑劣的阴谋。 我们已指出过，过分的痛苦使他成了一个多幻想的人，那正好象是一种幻境，他确实看见了冉阿让的那副凶恶面孔出现在他前面。他几乎要问他自己那个人是谁，并且对他起了强烈的反感。 人在幻想中，有时会显得沉静到可怕，继而又强烈地激动起来，惑于幻想的人，往往无视于实际，冉阿让当时的情况，正是那样。他看不见自己周围的东西，却仿佛看见心里的人物出现在自己的前面。 我们可以这样说，他正望着他自己，面面相觑，并且同时通过那种幻景，在一种神妙莫测的深远处看见一点光，起初他还以为是什么火炬，等到他再仔细去看那一点显现在他良心上的光时，他才看出那火炬似的光具有人形，并且就是那位主教。 他的良心再三再四地研究那样立在他面前的两个人，主教和冉阿让。要驯服第二个就非第一个不行。由于那种痴望所特具的奇异效力，他的幻想延续越久，主教的形象也越高大，越在他眼前显得光辉灿烂，冉阿让却越来越小，也越来越模糊。到某一时刻他已只是个影子。忽然一下，他完全消失了。 只剩下那个主教。 他让烂灿光辉充实了那个可怜人的全部心灵。 冉阿让哭了许久，淌着热泪，痛不成声，哭得比妇女更柔弱，比孩子更慌乱。 正在他哭时，光明逐渐在他脑子里出现了，一种奇特的光，一种极其可爱同时又极其可怕的光。他已往的生活，最初的过失，长期的赎罪，外貌的粗俗，内心的顽强，准备在出狱后痛痛快快报复一番的种种打算，例如在主教家里干的事，他最后干的事，抢了那孩子的四十个苏的那一次罪行，并且这次罪行是犯在获得主教的宥免以后，那就更加无耻，更加丑恶；凡此种种都回到了他脑子里，清清楚楚地显现出来，那种光的明亮是他生平从未见过的。他回顾他的生活，丑恶已极，他的心灵，卑鄙不堪。但是在那种生活和心灵上面有一片和平的光。 他好象是在天堂的光里看见了魔鬼。 他那样哭了多少时间呢？哭过以后，他做了些什么呢？他到什么地方去了呢？从来没有人知道。但有一件事似乎是可靠的，就是在那天晚上，有辆去格勒诺布尔的车子，在早晨三点左右到了迪涅，在经过主教院街时，车夫曾看见一个人双膝跪在卞福汝主教大门外的路旁，仿佛是在黑暗里祈铸。

CHAPTER I    THE YEAR 1817 Chinese 1817 is the year which Louis XVIII., with a certain royal assurance which was not wanting in pride, entitled the twenty-second of his reign. It is the year in which M. Bruguiere de Sorsum was celebrated. All the hairdressers' shops, hoping for powder and the return of the royal bird, were besmeared with azure and decked with fleurs-de-lys. It was the candid time at which Count Lynch sat every Sunday as church-warden in the church-warden's pew of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, in his costume of a peer of France, with his red ribbon and his long nose and the majesty of profile peculiar to a man who has performed a brilliant action. The brilliant action performed by M. Lynch was this: being mayor of Bordeaux, on the 12th of March, 1814, he had surrendered the city a little too promptly to M. the Duke d'Angouleme. Hence his peerage. In 1817 fashion swallowed up little boys of from four to six years of age in vast caps of morocco leather with ear-tabs resembling Esquimaux mitres. The French army was dressed in white, after the mode of the Austrian; the regiments were called legions; instead of numbers they bore the names of departments; Napoleon was at St. Helena; and since England refused him green cloth, he was having his old coats turned. In 1817 Pelligrini sang; Mademoiselle Bigottini danced; Potier reigned; Odry did not yet exist. Madame Saqui had succeeded to Forioso. There were still Prussians in France. M. Delalot was a personage. Legitimacy had just asserted itself by cutting off the hand, then the head, of Pleignier, of Carbonneau, and of Tolleron. The Prince de Talleyrand, grand chamberlain, and the Abbe Louis, appointed minister of finance, laughed as they looked at each other, with the laugh of the two augurs; both of them had celebrated, on the 14th of July, 1790, the mass of federation in the Champ de Mars; Talleyrand had said it as bishop, Louis had served it in the capacity of deacon. In 1817, in the side-alleys of this same Champ de Mars, two great cylinders of wood might have been seen lying in the rain, rotting amid the grass, painted blue, with traces of eagles and bees, from which the gilding was falling. These were the columns which two years before had upheld the Emperor's platform in the Champ de Mai. They were blackened here and there with the scorches of the bivouac of Austrians encamped near Gros-Caillou. Two or three of these columns had disappeared in these bivouac fires, and had warmed the large hands of the Imperial troops. The Field of May had this remarkable point: that it had been held in the month of June and in the Field of March (Mars). In this year, 1817, two things were popular: the Voltaire-Touquet and the snuff-box a la Charter. The most recent Parisian sensation was the crime of Dautun, who had thrown his brother's head into the fountain of the Flower-Market. They had begun to feel anxious at the Naval Department, on account of the lack of news from that fatal frigate, The Medusa, which was destined to cover Chaumareix with infamy and Gericault with glory. Colonel Selves was going to Egypt to become Soliman-Pasha. The palace of Thermes, in the Rue de La Harpe, served as a shop for a cooper. On the platform of the octagonal tower of the Hotel de Cluny, the little shed of boards, which had served as an observatory to Messier, the naval astronomer under Louis XVI., was still to be seen. The Duchesse de Duras read to three or four friends her unpublished Ourika, in her boudoir furnished by X. in sky-blue satin. The N's were scratched off the Louvre. The bridge of Austerlitz had abdicated, and was entitled the bridge of the King's Garden [du Jardin du Roi], a double enigma, which disguised the bridge of Austerlitz and the Jardin des Plantes at one stroke. Louis XVIII., much preoccupied while annotating Horace with the corner of his finger-nail, heroes who have become emperors, and makers of wooden shoes who have become dauphins, had two anxieties,--Napoleon and Mathurin Bruneau. The French Academy had given for its prize subject, The Happiness procured through Study. M. Bellart was officially eloquent. In his shadow could be seen germinating that future advocate-general of Broe, dedicated to the sarcasms of Paul-Louis Courier. There was a false Chateaubriand, named Marchangy, in the interim, until there should be a false Marchangy, named d'Arlincourt. Claire d'Albe and Malek-Adel were masterpieces; Madame Cottin was proclaimed the chief writer of the epoch. The Institute had the academician, Napoleon Bonaparte, stricken from its list of members. A royal ordinance erected Angouleme into a naval school; for the Duc d'Angouleme, being lord high admiral, it was evident that the city of Angouleme had all the qualities of a seaport; otherwise the monarchical principle would have received a wound. In the Council of Ministers the question was agitated whether vignettes representing slack-rope performances, which adorned Franconi's advertising posters, and which attracted throngs of street urchins, should be tolerated. M. Paer, the author of Agnese, a good sort of fellow, with a square face and a wart on his cheek, directed the little private concerts of the Marquise de Sasenaye in the Rue Ville l'Eveque. All the young girls were singing the Hermit of Saint-Avelle, with words by Edmond Geraud. The Yellow Dwarf was transferred into Mirror. The Cafe Lemblin stood up for the Emperor, against the Cafe Valois, which upheld the Bourbons. The Duc de Berri, already surveyed from the shadow by Louvel, had just been married to a princess of Sicily. Madame de Stael had died a year previously. The body-guard hissed Mademoiselle Mars. The grand newspapers were all very small. Their form was restricted, but their liberty was great. The Constitutionnel was constitutional. La Minerve called Chateaubriand Chateaubriant. That t made the good middle-class people laugh heartily at the expense of the great writer. In journals which sold themselves, prostituted journalists, insulted the exiles of 1815. David had no longer any talent, Arnault had no longer any wit, Carnot was no longer honest, Soult had won no battles; it is true that Napoleon had no longer any genius. No one is ignorant of the fact that letters sent to an exile by post very rarely reached him, as the police made it their religious duty to intercept them. This is no new fact; Descartes complained of it in his exile. Now David, having, in a Belgian publication, shown some displeasure at not receiving letters which had been written to him, it struck the royalist journals as amusing; and they derided the prescribed man well on this occasion. What separated two men more than an abyss was to say, the regicides, or to say the voters; to say the enemies, or to say the allies; to say Napoleon, or to say Buonaparte. All sensible people were agreed that the era of revolution had been closed forever by King Louis XVIII., surnamed "The Immortal Author of the Charter." On the platform of the Pont-Neuf, the word Redivivus was carved on the pedestal that awaited the statue of Henry IV. M. Piet, in the Rue Therese, No. 4, was making the rough draft of his privy assembly to consolidate the monarchy. The leaders of the Right said at grave conjunctures, "We must write to Bacot." MM. Canuel, O'Mahoney, and De Chappedelaine were preparing the sketch, to some extent with Monsieur's approval, of what was to become later on "The Conspiracy of the Bord de l'Eau"--of the waterside. L'Epingle Noire was already plotting in his own quarter. Delaverderie was conferring with Trogoff. M. Decazes, who was liberal to a degree, reigned. Chateaubriand stood every morning at his window at No. 27 Rue Saint-Dominique, clad in footed trousers, and slippers, with a madras kerchief knotted over his gray hair, with his eyes fixed on a mirror, a complete set of dentist's instruments spread out before him, cleaning his teeth, which were charming, while he dictated The Monarchy according to the Charter to M. Pilorge, his secretary. Criticism, assuming an authoritative tone, preferred Lafon to Talma. M. de Feletez signed himself A.; M. Hoffmann signed himself Z. Charles Nodier wrote Therese Aubert. Divorce was abolished. Lyceums called themselves colleges. The collegians, decorated on the collar with a golden fleur-de-lys, fought each other apropos of the King of Rome. The counter-police of the chateau had denounced to her Royal Highness Madame, the portrait, everywhere exhibited, of M. the Duc d'Orleans, who made a better appearance in his uniform of a colonel-general of hussars than M. the Duc de Berri, in his uniform of colonel-general of dragoons-- a serious inconvenience. The city of Paris was having the dome of the Invalides regilded at its own expense. Serious men asked themselves what M. de Trinquelague would do on such or such an occasion; M. Clausel de Montals differed on divers points from M. Clausel de Coussergues; M. de Salaberry was not satisfied. The comedian Picard, who belonged to the Academy, which the comedian Moliere had not been able to do, had The Two Philiberts played at the Odeon, upon whose pediment the removal of the letters still allowed THEATRE OF THE EMPRESS to be plainly read. People took part for or against Cugnet de Montarlot. Fabvier was factious; Bavoux was revolutionary. The Liberal, Pelicier, published an edition of Voltaire, with the following title: Works of Voltaire, of the French Academy. "That will attract purchasers," said the ingenious editor. The general opinion was that M. Charles Loyson would be the genius of the century; envy was beginning to gnaw at him--a sign of glory; and this verse was composed on him:-- "Even when Loyson steals, one feels that he has paws." As Cardinal Fesch refused to resign, M. de Pins, Archbishop of Amasie, administered the diocese of Lyons. The quarrel over the valley of Dappes was begun between Switzerland and France by a memoir from Captain, afterwards General Dufour. Saint-Simon, ignored, was erecting his sublime dream. There was a celebrated Fourier at the Academy of Science, whom posterity has forgotten; and in some garret an obscure Fourier, whom the future will recall. Lord Byron was beginning to make his mark; a note to a poem by Millevoye introduced him to France in these terms: a certain Lord Baron. David d'Angers was trying to work in marble. The Abbe Caron was speaking, in terms of praise, to a private gathering of seminarists in the blind alley of Feuillantines, of an unknown priest, named Felicite-Robert, who, at a latter date, became Lamennais. A thing which smoked and clattered on the Seine with the noise of a swimming dog went and came beneath the windows of the Tuileries, from the Pont Royal to the Pont Louis XV.; it was a piece of mechanism which was not good for much; a sort of plaything, the idle dream of a dream-ridden inventor; an utopia--a steamboat. The Parisians stared indifferently at this useless thing. M. de Vaublanc, the reformer of the Institute by a coup d'etat, the distinguished author of numerous academicians, ordinances, and batches of members, after having created them, could not succeed in becoming one himself. The Faubourg Saint-Germain and the pavilion de Marsan wished to have M. Delaveau for prefect of police, on account of his piety. Dupuytren and Recamier entered into a quarrel in the amphitheatre of the School of Medicine, and threatened each other with their fists on the subject of the divinity of Jesus Christ. Cuvier, with one eye on Genesis and the other on nature, tried to please bigoted reaction by reconciling fossils with texts and by making mastodons flatter Moses. M. Francois de Neufchateau, the praiseworthy cultivator of the memory of Parmentier, made a thousand efforts to have pomme de terre [potato] pronounced parmentiere, and succeeded therein not at all. The Abbe Gregoire, ex-bishop, ex-conventionary, ex-senator, had passed, in the royalist polemics, to the state of "Infamous Gregoire." The locution of which we have made use--passed to the state of--has been condemned as a neologism by M. Royer Collard. Under the third arch of the Pont de Jena, the new stone with which, the two years previously, the mining aperture made by Blucher to blow up the bridge had been stopped up, was still recognizable on account of its whiteness. Justice summoned to its bar a man who, on seeing the Comte d'Artois enter Notre Dame, had said aloud: "Sapristi! I regret the time when I saw Bonaparte and Talma enter the Bel Sauvage, arm in arm." A seditious utterance. Six months in prison. Traitors showed themselves unbuttoned; men who had gone over to the enemy on the eve of battle made no secret of their recompense, and strutted immodestly in the light of day, in the cynicism of riches and dignities; deserters from Ligny and Quatre-Bras, in the brazenness of their well-paid turpitude, exhibited their devotion to the monarchy in the most barefaced manner. This is what floats up confusedly, pell-mell, for the year 1817, and is now forgotten. History neglects nearly all these particulars, and cannot do otherwise; the infinity would overwhelm it. Nevertheless, these details, which are wrongly called trivial,-- there are no trivial facts in humanity, nor little leaves in vegetation,--are useful. It is of the physiognomy of the years that the physiognomy of the centuries is composed. In this year of 1817 four young Parisians arranged "a fine farce."

一　一八一七年 英 文 一八一七是路易十八用那种目空一切的君王气魄称为他登极第二十二年①的那一年。也是布吕吉尔·德·沙松先生扬名的那一年。所有假发店老板一心希望扑粉和御鸟再出现，都刷上了天蓝色灰浆并画上了百合花。②这是蓝舒伯爵穿上法兰西世卿服装，佩着红绶带，挺着长鼻子，有着轰动一时的人物所具有的那种奇特侧影的威仪，以理事员身分每礼拜日坐在圣日耳曼·代·勃雷教堂的公凳上的承平时期。蓝舒伯爵的功绩是这样的：他在任波尔多③市长期内，一八一四年三月十二日那天，把城池献给了昂古莱姆公爵，凭这项轰轰烈烈的功勋，他就得了世卿的禄位。 ①法国大革命在一七九三年推翻了君主专制，国王路易十六经国民公会判处死刑，王党奉路易十七（路易十六的儿子）为国王继承人，路易十七在一七九五年死在狱中，路易十六之弟路易十八被认为继承人，他是在一八一五年拿破仑逊位才回国登王位的，但是他不承认王室的统治是中断了的，认为他的王权应从一七九五年算起，所以一八一七年是他的统治的第二十二年。 ②百合花是法国波旁王朝的标志。贵族都戴假发，并以粉扑发为美。“御鸟”是一种髻的名称。 ③波尔多（Bordeaux），法国西南部滨大西洋的商业城市。拿破仑和英国争霸，封锁了大陆，商业资产阶级深感痛苦，一八一四年三月，英国军队从西班牙侵入法国南部时，他们把城池献给了敌人。昂古莱姆公爵是路易十八的侄儿，随着英国军队进入波尔多。 在一八一七年，四岁到六岁的男孩都戴一种极大的染色羊皮帽，成了风行一时的时装，帽子两旁有耳遮，颇象爱斯基摩人的高统帽。法国军队，仿奥地利式样，穿上了白军服，联队改称为驻防部队，不用番号，而冠以行省的名称。拿破仑还在圣赫勒拿岛，由于英国人不肯供应蓝呢布，他便翻穿旧衣服。在一八一七年，佩勒格利尼正歌唱，比戈第尼姑娘正跳舞，博基埃正红及一时，奥德利还没有出世。沙基夫人继福利奥佐①而起。在法国还有普鲁士人②。德拉洛先生③成了著名的人物。正统江山在斩了普勒尼埃、加尔波诺和托勒龙的手、又斩了他们的头④以后地位才宣告稳固。大臣塔列朗⑤王爷和钦命财政总长路易教士，好象两个巫师一样，相顾而笑⑥，他们两个都参加过一七九○年七月十四日在马尔斯广场举行的联邦弥撒，塔列朗以主教资格主祭，路易助祭。 ①佩勒格利尼（Pellegrini），那不勒斯歌手，当时在巴黎演出。比戈第尼姑娘（Bigottini），当时的舞蹈家。博基埃（Potie），当时的喜剧演员。奥德利（Odry），喜剧演员。沙基夫人（MmeSaqui）和福利奥佐（Forioso），第一帝国时期最著名的杂技演员，走绳索者。 ②占领军在一八一八年才撤离法国。 ③德拉洛（Delalot，1772-1842），极端保王派，《辩论日报》的编辑。 ④普勒尼埃、加尔波诺、托勒龙，秘密会社社员，因赞成处死路易十六被处死。斩手又斩首是法国对弑王者的刑罚。 ⑤塔列朗（Talleyrand，1754-1838），公爵，原是拿破仑的外交大臣，一八○七年免职后勾结国外势力。一八一四年三月俄普联军攻入巴黎，塔列朗组织临时内阁，迎接路易十八回国。 ⑥巫师共同作弊，彼此心里明白，所以相顾而笑。 在一八一七年，就在那马尔斯广场旁边的小路上，发现了几根蓝漆大木柱倒在雨水和乱草里腐烂，柱上的金鹰和金蜂都褪了色，只剩下一点痕迹。那些柱子是两年前开五月会议①时搭建御用礼台用的。驻扎在大石头附近的奥地利军队的露营部队已把它们烧得遍体焦痕了。其中的两三根已被那些露营部队当作柴火烧掉了，并还烘过日耳曼皇军的巨掌。五月会议有这样一个特点，那就是五月会议是六月间在马尔斯广场上举行的。在一八一七年里，有两件事是人人知道的：伏尔泰－都格事件和鼻烟壶上刻的宪章问题。巴黎最新的骇人消息是杜丹的罪案，杜丹曾把他兄弟的脑袋丢在花市的水池里。海军部开始调查海船墨杜萨号事件，这使肖马勒蒙羞，热利果光采。塞尔夫上校赴埃及去做沙里蒙总督。竖琴街的浴宫做了一个修桶匠的店面。当时在克吕尼宅子的八角塔的平台上，还可以看见一间小木板房子，那是梅西埃的天文台，就是做过路易十六的海军天文宫的梅西埃。杜拉公爵夫人在她那间陈设了天蓝缎交叉式家具的客厅里对着三四个朋友朗诵她作的那篇未经发表的《舞力卡》。卢浮宫里的N②正被刮去。奥斯特里茨桥退位了，改名为御花园桥，那种双关的隐语把奥斯特里茨桥和植物园③都同时隐没了。路易十八拿起《贺拉斯》④，用指甲尖划着读，特别注意那些做皇帝的英雄和做王子的木鞋匠，因为他有双重顾虑：拿破仑和马蒂兰·布吕诺⑤。法兰西学院的征文题目是《读书乐》。伯拉先生经官府承认确有辩才。在他的培养下，未来的检察长德勃洛艾已初露头角，立志学习保尔－路易·古利埃的尖刻。那年有个冒充里昂⑥的马尚吉，随后又有个冒充马尚吉的达兰谷。《克勒尔·达尔伯》和《马勒克·亚岱尔》被称为两部杰作。歌丹夫人被推为当时的第一作家。法兰西学院任人把院士拿破仑·波拿巴从它的名册上除名。国王命令在昂古莱姆⑦设立海军学校，因为昂古莱姆公爵是个伟大的海军大臣，昂古莱姆城就必然具有海港的一切优越条件，否则君主制就失了体统了。法兰柯尼⑧在他的布告上加上一些有关骑术的插图，吸引了街上的野孩子，内阁会议曾经热烈讨论应否容许他那样做。巴埃先生，《亚尼丝阿》的作者，颊上生了一颗肉痣的方脸好人，常在主教城街沙塞南侯爵夫人家里布置小型家庭音乐会。所有的年轻姑娘都唱爱德蒙·热罗作词的《圣阿卫尔的隐者》。《黄矮子报》改成了《镜报》。朗布兰咖啡馆抬出皇帝来对抗那家拥护波旁王室的瓦洛亚咖啡馆。人家刚把西西里的一个公主嫁给那位已被卢韦尔⑨暗中注意的贝里公爵。 ①五月会议是拿破仑于一八一五年召集的一种人民代表会议。 ②N是拿破仑的徽志。 ③巴黎植物园初建于十七世纪初，一七九三年起曾加扩建。 ④《贺拉斯》（Horace），高乃依根据罗马历史故事所作的悲剧。 ⑤马蒂兰·布吕诺（MathurinBruneau），当时名人之一，木鞋匠出身，所以路易十八对他心存戒心。 ⑥夏多布里昂（Chateaubriand，1768-1848），法国作家，消极浪漫主义文学的创始人。 ⑦昂古莱姆（Angouleme），城名，在内地，不在海滨。 ⑧法兰柯尼，一个养马官。 ⑨卢韦尔（Louve）是个制造马鞍的工人，他刺杀了贝里公爵，贝里公爵是路易十八的侄儿，杀他，是想绝王族之后。 斯达尔夫人①去世已一年。近卫军老喝马尔斯②小姐的倒彩。各种大报都只一点点大，篇幅缩小，但是自由还是大的。《立宪主义者报》是拥护宪政的。《密涅瓦报》把Chateaubriand（夏多布里昂）写成Chateaubriant。资产阶级借了写错了的那个t字大大嘲笑这位大作家。在一些被收买了的报纸里，有些*女式的新闻记者辱骂那些在一八一五年被清洗的人们，大卫③已经没有才艺了，亚尔诺④已经没有文思了，卡诺⑤已经没有羞耻了，苏尔特⑥从来没有打过胜仗，拿破仑确也没有天才。大家都知道，通过邮局寄给一个被放逐的人的信件是很少寄到的，警察把截留那些信件作为他们的神圣任务。那种事由来已久，被放逐的笛卡儿⑦便诉过苦。大卫为了收不到他的信件在比利时的一家报纸上发了几句牢骚，引起了保王党报章的兴趣，借此机会，把那位被放逐者讥讽了一番。说“弑君犯”或“投票人”⑧，说“敌人”或“盟友”⑨，说“拿破仑”或“布宛纳巴”⑩，一字之差，可以在两人中造成一道鸿沟。 ①斯达尔夫人（MadamedeStaeBl），浪漫主义作家。 ②马尔斯（Mars），喜剧演员。 ③大卫（David），油画家，曾任国民公会代表，继为拿破仑所器重。 ④亚尔诺（Arnault），诗人和寓言家。 ⑤卡诺（Carnot），数学家，国民公会代表，公安委员会委员，共和国十四军的创编者，一七九四年参加热月九日反革命政变。 ⑥苏尔特（Soult），拿破仑部下的元帅，奥斯特里茨一役居首功。 ⑦笛卡儿（Descartes，1569-1650），法国二元论哲学家。 ⑧指投票赞成斩决路易十六的代表。 ⑨指帮助波旁王室复辟的奥、英、俄、普等同盟国。 ⑩拿破仑是帝号。拿破仑姓Bonaparte（波拿巴），是由他原来的意大利姓Buonaparte（读如“布宛纳巴”），经过法国化后变成的。仇视他的人按照意大利语音叫他的姓，带有表示他不是法国土著的意思。 一切头脑清楚的人都认为这革命的世纪已被国王路易十八永远封闭了，他被称为“宪章的不朽的创作者”。在新桥的桥堍平地，准备建立亨利四世①铜像的石座上已经刻上“更生”两字。比艾先生在戴莱丝街四号筹备他的秘密会议，以图巩固君主制度。右派的领袖在严重关头，老是说：“我们应当写信给巴柯。”加奴埃、奥马阿尼、德·沙伯德兰诸人正策划日后所谓的“水滨阴谋”，他们多少征得了御弟②的同意。“黑别针”在另一方面也有所策动。德拉卫德里和特洛果夫正进行谈判。多少具有一些自由思想的德卡兹③先生正掌握实权。夏多布里昂每天早晨立在圣多米尼克街二十七号的窗子前面，穿着长裤和拖鞋，一条马德拉斯绸巾裹着他的灰白头发，眼睛望着一面镜子，全套牙科手术工具箱开在面前，修着他的美丽的牙齿，一面向他的书记毕洛瑞先生口述《君主与宪章》的诠言。权威批评家称赞拉封而不称赞塔尔马④。德·菲勒茨⑤先生签名A，霍夫曼⑥先生签Z。查理·诺缔埃⑦正创作《泰莱斯·阿贝尔》。离婚被禁止了。中学校改称中学堂。衣领上装一朵金质百合花的中学生因罗马王⑧问题互相斗殴。宫庭侦探向夫人殿下⑨递报告，说奥尔良公爵⑩的像四处悬挂，并说他穿轻骑将军制服的相貌比穿龙骑将军制服的贝里公爵还好看是件非常不妥的事。巴黎自筹经费把残废军人院的屋顶重行装了金。正派人彼此猜问：德·特兰克拉格先生在某种和某种情形下会怎样处理？克洛塞尔·德·蒙达尔先生和克洛塞尔·德·古塞格先生在许多方面意见分歧，德·沙拉伯利先生不得意。喜剧家比加尔，戏剧学院（喜剧家莫里哀也不曾当选的那个戏剧学院）的院士，在奥德翁戏院公演《两个菲力浦》，在那戏院的大门头上，揭去了的字还显明地露着“皇后戏院”的字迹。有些人对古涅·德·蒙达洛的态度不一致。法布维埃是暴动分子，巴武是革命党人。贝里西埃书店印行了一部伏尔泰文集，题名为《法兰西学院院士伏尔泰文集》。那位天真的发行人说：“这样做可以招引买主”。一般舆论认为查理·罗丛先生是本世纪的天才，他已开始受人羡慕，那是光荣的预兆，并且有人为他写了一句这样的诗： 鹅雏⑾纵能飞，无以匿其蹼。 ①亨利四世是波旁王朝第一代国王。 ②御弟，指路易十八之弟阿图瓦伯爵，即后来继承路易十八王位的查理十世。 ③德卡兹（Decazes），路易十八的警务大臣。当时的自由思想是维护资产阶级个人权利的学说。 ④拉封（Lafon）和塔尔马（Talma），当时的悲剧演员，后来曾受拿破仑赞赏。 ⑤菲勒茨（Féletz），拥护古典主义反对浪漫主义的批评家。 ⑥霍夫曼（Hoffman），戏剧作家和批评家。 ⑦查理·诺缔埃（CharlesNodler，1783-1844），法国作家。 ⑧罗马王，拿破仑和玛丽亚·路易莎所生之子。 ⑨夫人殿下，指路易十八的弟妇，阿图瓦伯爵夫人，贝里公爵的母亲。 ⑩奥尔良公爵，指一八三○年继查理十世（即阿图瓦伯爵）为王的路易—菲力浦。 ⑾鹅雏（lAoison）和罗丛（loyson）同音，鹅雏是小笨蛋的意思。 红衣主教费什既不肯辞职，只得由亚马齐总主教德班先生管辖里昂教区。瑞士和法兰西两国关于达泊河流域的争执因杜福尔统领的一篇密呈而展开了，从此他升为将军。不闻名的圣西门①正计划他的好梦。科学院有过一个闻名于世的傅立叶，后世已把他忘了，我不知道从哪个角落里又钻出了另一个无名的傅立叶②，后世却将永志勿忘。贵人拜伦初露头角；米尔瓦把他介绍给法兰西，在一篇诗的注解中有这样的词句：“有某贵人拜伦者……”大卫·德·昂热③正试制大理石粉。 ①圣西门（SaintCSimon），空想社会主义者。 ②这一个傅立叶是随拿破仑出征埃及的几何学家，著有《出征埃及记》。另一傅立叶是空想社会主义者。 ③大卫·德·昂热（DaviddAAngers，1788-1856），法国雕塑家。 加龙教士在斐扬死巷向一小群青年教士称赞一个无名的神甫，这人叫费里西德·罗贝尔，他便是日后的拉梅耐①。一只煤烟腾漫、扑扑作声的东西，在杜伊勒里宫的窗子下面、王家桥和路易十五桥间的塞纳河上来回走动，声如泅水的狗，那是一件没有多大好处的机器，一种玩具，异想天开的发明家的一种幻梦，一种乌托邦棗一只汽船。巴黎人对那废物漠然视之。德·沃布兰先生用强力改组了科学院，组织、人选，一手包办，轰轰烈烈地安插了好几个院士，自己却落了一场空。圣日耳曼郊区和马桑营都期望德纳福先生做警署署长，因为他虔信天主。杜彼唐②和雷加密为了耶稣基督的神性问题在医科学校的圆讲堂里争论起来，弄到挥拳相对。居维叶③一只眼睛望着《创世记》，另一只眼睛望着自然界，为了取媚于迷信的反动势力，于是用化石证实经文，用猛犸颂扬摩西。佛朗沙·德·诺夫沙多先生，帕芒蒂埃④的一个可敬的继起者，千方百计要使⑤（马铃薯）读成“帕芒蒂埃”，但毫无结果。格列高利神甫，前主教，前国民公会代表，前元老院元老，在保王党的宣传手册里竟成了“无耻的格列高利”。我们刚才所用的这一词组“竟成了……”是被罗叶－柯拉尔认作新词的。在耶拿桥的第三桥洞下，人们还可以从颜色的洁白上认出那块用来填塞布吕歇尔⑥在两年前，为了炸桥而凿的火药眼的新石头。有一个人看见阿图瓦伯爵走进圣母院，那个人大声说：“见他妈的鬼！我真留恋我从前看见波拿巴和塔尔马手挽手同赴蛮舞会的那个时代。”法庭传讯了他，认为那是叛徒的口吻，六个月监禁。一些卖国贼明目张胆地露面了，有些在某次战争前夕投敌的人完全不隐藏他们所得的赃款，并在光天化日之下，不顾羞耻，卖弄他们的可耻的富贵。里尼和四臂村⑦的一些叛徒，毫不掩饰他们爱国的丑行，还表示他们为国王尽忠的热忱，竟忘了英国公共厕所内墙上所写的PleaseadjustyourdressbeCforeleaving．⑧这些都是在一八一七年（现在已没有人记得的一年）发生过的一些事。拉拉杂杂，信手拈来。这些特点历史几乎全部忽略了，那也是无可奈何的事，因为实在记不胜记。可是这些小事（我们原不应当称之为小）都是有用的；人类没有小事，犹如植物没有小叶，世纪的面貌是岁月的动态集成的。 在一八一七那年里，四个巴黎青年开了一个“妙玩笑”。 ①拉梅耐（Lamennais，1782-1854），法国神甫，政论家。 ②杜彼唐（Dupuytren），法国外科医生。 ③雷加密（Récamier），法国内科医生。 ④居维叶（Cuvier），法国自然科学家。 ⑤帕芒蒂埃（Parmentier，1737-1813），第一个在法国种植马铃薯的人。 ⑥布吕歇尔（Blucher，1742-1819），参加滑铁卢战争的普鲁士军将领。 ⑦一八一五年六月十六日，即滑铁卢战役的前两日，拿破仑在里尼击败普鲁士军队，又在四臂村击败英国军队。两地都在比利时境内。 ⑧英文，意为“出去以前，请先整理衣服。”

CHAPTER II    A DOUBLE QUARTETTE Chinese These Parisians came, one from Toulouse, another from Limoges, the third from Cahors, and the fourth from Montauban; but they were students; and when one says student, one says Parisian: to study in Paris is to be born in Paris. These young men were insignificant; every one has seen such faces; four specimens of humanity taken at random; neither good nor bad, neither wise nor ignorant, neither geniuses nor fools; handsome, with that charming April which is called twenty years. They were four Oscars; for, at that epoch, Arthurs did not yet exist. Burn for him the perfumes of Araby! exclaimed romance. Oscar advances. Oscar, I shall behold him! People had just emerged from Ossian; elegance was Scandinavian and Caledonian; the pure English style was only to prevail later, and the first of the Arthurs, Wellington, had but just won the battle of Waterloo. These Oscars bore the names, one of Felix Tholomyes, of Toulouse; the second, Listolier, of Cahors; the next, Fameuil, of Limoges; the last, Blachevelle, of Montauban. Naturally, each of them had his mistress. Blachevelle loved Favourite, so named because she had been in England; Listolier adored Dahlia, who had taken for her nickname the name of a flower; Fameuil idolized Zephine, an abridgment of Josephine; Tholomyes had Fantine, called the Blonde, because of her beautiful, sunny hair. Favourite, Dahlia, Zephine, and Fantine were four ravishing young women, perfumed and radiant, still a little like working-women, and not yet entirely divorced from their needles; somewhat disturbed by intrigues, but still retaining on their faces something of the serenity of toil, and in their souls that flower of honesty which survives the first fall in woman. One of the four was called the young, because she was the youngest of them, and one was called the old; the old one was twenty-three. Not to conceal anything, the three first were more experienced, more heedless, and more emancipated into the tumult of life than Fantine the Blonde, who was still in her first illusions. Dahlia, Zephine, and especially Favourite, could not have said as much. There had already been more than one episode in their romance, though hardly begun; and the lover who had borne the name of Adolph in the first chapter had turned out to be Alphonse in the second, and Gustave in the third. Poverty and coquetry are two fatal counsellors; one scolds and the other flatters, and the beautiful daughters of the people have both of them whispering in their ear, each on its own side. These badly guarded souls listen. Hence the falls which they accomplish, and the stones which are thrown at them. They are overwhelmed with splendor of all that is immaculate and inaccessible. Alas! what if the Jungfrau were hungry? Favourite having been in England, was admired by Dahlia and Zephine. She had had an establishment of her own very early in life. Her father was an old unmarried professor of mathematics, a brutal man and a braggart, who went out to give lessons in spite of his age. This professor, when he was a young man, had one day seen a chambermaid's gown catch on a fender; he had fallen in love in consequence of this accident. The result had been Favourite. She met her father from time to time, and he bowed to her. One morning an old woman with the air of a devotee, had entered her apartments, and had said to her, "You do not know me, Mamemoiselle?" "No." "I am your mother." Then the old woman opened the sideboard, and ate and drank, had a mattress which she owned brought in, and installed herself. This cross and pious old mother never spoke to Favourite, remained hours without uttering a word, breakfasted, dined, and supped for four, and went down to the porter's quarters for company, where she spoke ill of her daughter. It was having rosy nails that were too pretty which had drawn Dahlia to Listolier, to others perhaps, to idleness. How could she make such nails work? She who wishes to remain virtuous must not have pity on her hands. As for Zephine, she had conquered Fameuil by her roguish and caressing little way of saying "Yes, sir." The young men were comrades; the young girls were friends. Such loves are always accompanied by such friendships. Goodness and philosophy are two distinct things; the proof of this is that, after making all due allowances for these little irregular households, Favourite, Zephine, and Dahlia were philosophical young women, while Fantine was a good girl. Good! some one will exclaim; and Tholomyes? Solomon would reply that love forms a part of wisdom. We will confine ourselves to saying that the love of Fantine was a first love, a sole love, a faithful love. She alone, of all the four, was not called "thou" by a single one of them. Fantine was one of those beings who blossom, so to speak, from the dregs of the people. Though she had emerged from the most unfathomable depths of social shadow, she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. She was born at M. sur M. Of what parents? Who can say? She had never known father or mother. She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? She had never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismal name; the Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleased the first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a very small child, running bare-legged in the street. She received the name as she received the water from the clouds upon her brow when it rained. She was called little Fantine. No one knew more than that. This human creature had entered life in just this way. At the age of ten, Fantine quitted the town and went to service with some farmers in the neighborhood. At fifteen she came to Paris "to seek her fortune." Fantine was beautiful, and remained pure as long as she could. She was a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She had gold and pearls for her dowry; but her gold was on her head, and her pearls were in her mouth. She worked for her living; then, still for the sake of her living,-- for the heart, also, has its hunger,--she loved. She loved Tholomyes. An amour for him; passion for her. The streets of the Latin quarter, filled with throngs of students and grisettes, saw the beginning of their dream. Fantine had long evaded Tholomyes in the mazes of the hill of the Pantheon, where so many adventurers twine and untwine, but in such a way as constantly to encounter him again. There is a way of avoiding which resembles seeking. In short, the eclogue took place. Blachevelle, Listolier, and Fameuil formed a sort of group of which Tholomyes was the head. It was he who possessed the wit. Tholomyes was the antique old student; he was rich; he had an income of four thousand francs; four thousand francs! a splendid scandal on Mount Sainte-Genevieve. Tholomyes was a fast man of thirty, and badly preserved. He was wrinkled and toothless, and he had the beginning of a bald spot, of which he himself said with sadness, the skull at thirty, the knee at forty. His digestion was mediocre, and he had been attacked by a watering in one eye. But in proportion as his youth disappeared, gayety was kindled; he replaced his teeth with buffooneries, his hair with mirth, his health with irony, his weeping eye laughed incessantly. He was dilapidated but still in flower. His youth, which was packing up for departure long before its time, beat a retreat in good order, bursting with laughter, and no one saw anything but fire. He had had a piece rejected at the Vaudeville. He made a few verses now and then. In addition to this he doubted everything to the last degree, which is a vast force in the eyes of the weak. Being thus ironical and bald, he was the leader. Iron is an English word. Is it possible that irony is derived from it? One day Tholomyes took the three others aside, with the gesture of an oracle, and said to them:-- "Fantine, Dahlia, Zephine, and Favourite have been teasing us for nearly a year to give them a surprise. We have promised them solemnly that we would. They are forever talking about it to us, to me in particular, just as the old women in Naples cry to Saint Januarius, `Faccia gialluta, fa o miracolo, Yellow face, perform thy miracle,' so our beauties say to me incessantly, `Tholomyes, when will you bring forth your surprise?' At the same time our parents keep writing to us. Pressure on both sides. The moment has arrived, it seems to me; let us discuss the question." Thereupon, Tholomyes lowered his voice and articulated something so mirthful, that a vast and enthusiastic grin broke out upon the four mouths simultaneously, and Blachevelle exclaimed, "That is an idea." A smoky tap-room presented itself; they entered, and the remainder of their confidential colloquy was lost in shadow. The result of these shades was a dazzling pleasure party which took place on the following Sunday, the four young men inviting the four young girls.

二　双四重奏 英 文 上述的那些巴黎青年中，有一个是图卢兹人，一个是利摩日人，第三个是卡奥尔人，第四个是蒙托邦人，不过他们都是学生，凡是学生，都是巴黎人，在巴黎求学，便算生在巴黎。 他们都是一些无足称道的青年，谁都见过这一类的人，四种庸俗人的标本，既不善，也不恶，既无学问，又非无知，既非天才，亦非笨伯，年方二十，美如妩媚的阳春。这是四个毫不出奇的奥斯卡尔①，因为在那时代，阿瑟②还没有出世。当时的歌谣说：“为了他，点上龙涎香，奥斯卡尔走上前来，奥斯卡尔，我要去看他！”大家已放下了《欧辛集》③。姿态的俊美崇尚的是斯堪的纳维亚式和苏格兰式。纯粹英国式要到以后才风行，并且阿瑟派的头号人物威灵顿得逞于滑铁卢战役还没有多少时候。 ①奥斯卡尔（Oscar），瑞典和挪威国王，一七九九年生于巴黎。 ②阿瑟（Arthur），美国第二十一届总统，生于一八三○年。 ③《欧辛集》（Ossian），一部古诗集的名称，苏格兰文人麦克弗森（Macpherson）的英译本发表于一七六○年，一说该诗集系麦克弗森仿古的创作，曾传诵一时。 那些奥斯卡尔中间有一个叫斐利克斯·多罗米埃，图卢兹人；一个叫李士多里，卡奥尔人；还有一个叫法梅依，利摩日人；最后一个是勃拉什维尔，蒙托邦人。自然每个人都有他的情妇。勃拉什维尔爱宠儿，她取了那样一个名字，是因为她到英国去过一趟；李士多里锺情于用花名作别名的大丽；法梅依奉瑟芬如天人，瑟芬是约瑟芬的简称；多罗米埃有芳汀，别号金发美人，因为她生得一头日光色的美发。 宠儿、大丽、瑟芬和芳汀是四个春风满面、香气袭人的美女，但仍带有一点女工的本色，因为她们并没有完全不理针线，虽然谈情说爱，她们脸上总还多少保存一点劳动人民的庄重气味，在她们的心里也还有一朵不因破瓜而消失的诚实之花。四个人里，有一个叫做小妹，因为她的年龄最轻，还有一个叫做大姐的。大姐有二十三岁。不瞒大家说，起头的三个人，都比金发美人芳汀有经验些，放得开些，在人生的尘嚣中阅历多些，芳汀却还正做她初次的情梦。 大丽，瑟芬，尤其是宠儿，都不可能有那种痴情。她们的情史，虽然刚开始，却已有过多次的波折，第一章里的情人叫阿多尔夫，第二章里的却变了阿尔封斯，到第三章又是古士达夫了。贫寒和爱俏是两种逼死人的动力，一个埋怨，一个逢迎。平民中的一般美貌姑娘都兼而有之，每一个都附在一边耳朵上细语不停。防范不严的心灵便俯首听命了。自己落井的原因在此，别人下石的原因也在此。而人们却总要拿那一切莹洁无瑕、高不可攀的贞操来对她们求全责备。唉！假使少妇不胜饥寒之苦呢？ 宠儿到英国去过一趟，因此瑟芬和大丽都羡慕她。她很早就有个家。她的父亲是个性情粗暴、爱吹牛的老数学教师，从没正式结过婚，虽然上了年纪，却还靠替人补课度日。这位教师在年轻时，有一天，看见女仆的一件衣裳挂在炉遮上，便为了那件偶然的事，动了春心。结果，有了宠儿。她有时碰见父亲，她父亲总向她行礼。有一天早晨，一个离奇古怪的老婆子走到她家里来，对她说：“小姐，您不认识我吗？”“不认识。”“我是你的妈。”那老婆子随即打开了菜橱，吃喝以后，又把她一床褥子搬来，住下了。那位叽哩咕噜、笃信上帝的母亲从不和宠儿说话，几个钟头里能不说一个字，早餐、中餐、晚餐，她一个人吃的抵得上四个人、还要到门房里去串门子，说她女儿的坏话。 大丽委身于李士多里，也许还结识过旁人，她之所以游手好闲，是她那十只过分美丽的桃红指甲在作怪。怎能忍心让那样的指甲去做工呢？凡是愿意保全自己清白的人都不应怜惜自己的手。至于瑟芬，她之所以能征服法梅依，是因为她能用一种娇里带妖的神态对他说：“是呀，先生。” 那些青年是同学，那群姑娘是朋友。那种爱情总是有那种友谊陪衬着的。 自爱和自知是两回事。这儿有个证明，我们暂且把他们那种不正规的结合放下不谈，我们可以说宠儿、瑟芬和大丽是有自知之明的姑娘，芳汀却是自爱的姑娘。 我们可以说她自爱吗？那么，多罗米埃又怎么说呢？所罗门也许会回答说爱也是自爱之一道。我们只说芳汀的爱是初次的爱，专一的爱，真诚的爱。 她在那四人当中是唯一只许一个人对她称“你”的。 芳汀是那样一个从平民的底层（不妨这样说）孕育出来的孩子。她虽然是从黑暗社会的那种不可测的深渊中生出来的，她的风度却使人摸不着她的出处和身世。她生在滨海蒙特勒伊①。出自怎样的父母？谁知道？谁也没有见过她的父母。她叫芳汀。为什么叫芳汀呢？因为人家从来不知道她有旁的名字。她出世时，督政府②还存在。她没有姓，因为她没有家；她没有教名，因为当时教堂已不过问这些事了。她在极小时赤着脚在街上走，一个过路人这样叫了她，她就得了这个名字。她接受了这个名字，正如她在下雨时额头从天上接受了一点雨水一样。大家都叫她做小芳汀。除此以外，谁也不知道关于她的其他事。她便是这样来到人间的。十岁上，芳汀出城到附近的庄稼人家里去作工。十五岁上，她到巴黎来“碰运气”。芳汀生得美，她保持她的童贞直到最后一刻。她是一个牙齿洁白、头发浅黄的漂亮姑娘。她有黄金和珍珠做奁资，不过她的黄金在她的头上，珍珠在她的口中。 ①滨海蒙特勒伊（MontreuilCsurCmer），法国北部加来海峡省的一县。 ②督政府（Directoire），一七九五年，革命的国民公会解散，让位于代表新兴富豪阶级的督政府，一七九九年督政府解散，政权转入以波拿巴为首的执政府。 她为生活而工作，到后来，她爱上了人，这也还是为了生活，因为心也有它的饥饿。 她爱上了多罗米埃。 对他来说，这不过是逢场作戏，而对她，却是一片真情。充塞着青年学生和青年姑娘的拉丁区曾目击那场情梦的滋长。在先贤祠的高坡一带，见过多少悲欢离合的那些长街曲巷里，芳汀逃避多罗米埃何止一次，但是躲避他却正是为了遇见他。世间有那么一种躲避，恰好象是追求。简单地说，情史开场了。 勃拉什维尔、李士多里和法梅依彼此形影不离，并以多罗米埃为首领。他有办法。 多罗米埃是往日那种老资格的学生，他有钱，他有四千法郎的年息，四千法郎的年息，在圣热纳微埃夫山①上，可以为所欲为了。多罗米埃已有三十岁了，一向寻欢作乐，不爱惜身体。他脸上已经起了皱纹，牙齿也不齐全，头也秃了顶；他自己毫不在乎，他常说：“三十岁的头顶秃，四十岁的膝头僵。”他的消化力平常，有一只眼睛常淌泪。但是他的青春去得越远，他的兴致却越高。他把谐谑代替他的牙，欢乐代替他的发，讥讽代替他的健康，那只泪汪汪的眼睛也总是笑眯眯的。他已经疲劳过度，却仍旧勇气百倍。尽管年事不高，青春先萎，他却能且战且退，整军以还，笑声脆劲，在别人看来，火力还是很足的。他写过一篇戏剧，被滑稽剧院退了回来。他随时随地写一些不相干的诗。并且，他自命不凡，怀疑一切事物，在胆怯的人的眼里他成了一条好汉。因此，尽管秃头，爱讽刺，他倒做了领袖。Iron是一个作“铁”解释的英国字。难道作“讽刺”解释的ironie是从这英文字来的吗？ ①指拉丁区，巴黎大学所在地区。 有一天，多罗米埃把那三个人拉到一边，指手画脚地向他们说： “芳汀，大丽，瑟芬和宠儿要求我们送她们一件古怪玩意儿已快一年了。我们也曾大模大样地答应了她们。她们直到现在还常常对我们谈到这件事，尤其是对着我。正好象那不勒斯①的那些老太婆常对圣詹纳罗喊着说‘黄面皮，快显灵！’一样，我们的美人也经常向我们说：‘多罗米埃，你那怪玩意儿几时拿出来？’同时我们的父母又常有信给我们。两面夹攻。我认为时间已经到了。我们来商量一下。” ①那不勒斯（Naples），意大利西岸港口。圣詹纳罗（SaintJanvier）又译圣雅努亚里，是它的保护神。 说到此地，多罗米埃的声音放低了，并且鬼鬼祟祟地讲了些话，有趣到使那四张口同时发出一阵奔放、兴奋的笑声，勃拉什维尔还喊道： “这真是妙不可言！” 他们走到一个烟雾腾腾的咖啡馆门前，钻了进去，他们会议的尾声便消失在黑暗中了。 这次密谈的结果带来了下星期日举行的那场别出心裁的郊游，四位青年邀请了那四位姑娘。

CHAPTER III    FOUR AND FOUR Chinese It is hard nowadays to picture to one's self what a pleasure-trip of students and grisettes to the country was like, forty-five years ago. The suburbs of Paris are no longer the same; the physiognomy of what may be called circumparisian life has changed completely in the last half-century; where there was the cuckoo, there is the railway car; where there was a tender-boat, there is now the steamboat; people speak of Fecamp nowadays as they spoke of Saint-Cloud in those days. The Paris of 1862 is a city which has France for its outskirts. The four couples conscientiously went through with all the country follies possible at that time. The vacation was beginning, and it was a warm, bright, summer day. On the preceding day, Favourite, the only one who knew how to write, had written the following to Tholomyes in the name of the four: "It is a good hour to emerge from happiness." That is why they rose at five o'clock in the morning. Then they went to Saint-Cloud by the coach, looked at the dry cascade and exclaimed, "This must be very beautiful when there is water!" They breakfasted at the Tete-Noir, where Castaing had not yet been; they treated themselves to a game of ring-throwing under the quincunx of trees of the grand fountain; they ascended Diogenes' lantern, they gambled for macaroons at the roulette establishment of the Pont de Sevres, picked bouquets at Pateaux, bought reed-pipes at Neuilly, ate apple tarts everywhere, and were perfectly happy. The young girls rustled and chatted like warblers escaped from their cage. It was a perfect delirium. From time to time they bestowed little taps on the young men. Matutinal intoxication of life! adorable years! the wings of the dragonfly quiver. Oh, whoever you may be, do you not remember? Have you rambled through the brushwood, holding aside the branches, on account of the charming head which is coming on behind you? Have you slid, laughing, down a slope all wet with rain, with a beloved woman holding your hand, and crying, "Ah, my new boots! what a state they are in!" Let us say at once that that merry obstacle, a shower, was lacking in the case of this good-humored party, although Favourite had said as they set out, with a magisterial and maternal tone, "The slugs are crawling in the paths,--a sign of rain, children." All four were madly pretty. A good old classic poet, then famous, a good fellow who had an Eleonore, M. le Chevalier de Labouisse, as he strolled that day beneath the chestnut-trees of Saint-Cloud, saw them pass about ten o'clock in the morning, and exclaimed, "There is one too many of them," as he thought of the Graces. Favourite, Blachevelle's friend, the one aged three and twenty, the old one, ran on in front under the great green boughs, jumped the ditches, stalked distractedly over bushes, and presided over this merry-making with the spirit of a young female faun. Zephine and Dahlia, whom chance had made beautiful in such a way that they set each off when they were together, and completed each other, never left each other, more from an instinct of coquetry than from friendship, and clinging to each other, they assumed English poses; the first keepsakes had just made their appearance, melancholy was dawning for women, as later on, Byronism dawned for men; and the hair of the tender sex began to droop dolefully. Zephine and Dahlia had their hair dressed in rolls. Listolier and Fameuil, who were engaged in discussing their professors, explained to Fantine the difference that existed between M. Delvincourt and M. Blondeau. Blachevelle seemed to have been created expressly to carry Favourite's single-bordered, imitation India shawl of Ternaux's manufacture, on his arm on Sundays. Tholomyes followed, dominating the group. He was very gay, but one felt the force of government in him; there was dictation in his joviality; his principal ornament was a pair of trousers of elephant-leg pattern of nankeen, with straps of braided copper wire; he carried a stout rattan worth two hundred francs in his hand, and, as he treated himself to everything, a strange thing called a cigar in his mouth. Nothing was sacred to him; he smoked. "That Tholomyes is astounding!" said the others, with veneration. "What trousers! What energy!" As for Fantine, she was a joy to behold. Her splendid teeth had evidently received an office from God,--laughter. She preferred to carry her little hat of sewed straw, with its long white strings, in her hand rather than on her head. Her thick blond hair, which was inclined to wave, and which easily uncoiled, and which it was necessary to fasten up incessantly, seemed made for the flight of Galatea under the willows. Her rosy lips babbled enchantingly. The corners of her mouth voluptuously turned up, as in the antique masks of Erigone, had an air of encouraging the audacious; but her long, shadowy lashes drooped discreetly over the jollity of the lower part of the face as though to call a halt. There was something indescribably harmonious and striking about her entire dress. She wore a gown of mauve barege, little reddish brown buskins, whose ribbons traced an X on her fine, white, open-worked stockings, and that sort of muslin spencer, a Marseilles invention, whose name, canezou, a corruption of the words quinze aout, pronounced after the fashion of the Canebiere, signifies fine weather, heat, and midday. The three others, less timid, as we have already said, wore low-necked dresses without disguise, which in summer, beneath flower-adorned hats, are very graceful and enticing; but by the side of these audacious outfits, blond Fantine's canezou, with its transparencies, its indiscretion, and its reticence, concealing and displaying at one and the same time, seemed an alluring godsend of decency, and the famous Court of Love, presided over by the Vicomtesse de Cette, with the sea-green eyes, would, perhaps, have awarded the prize for coquetry to this canezou, in the contest for the prize of modesty. The most ingenious is, at times, the wisest. This does happen. Brilliant of face, delicate of profile, with eyes of a deep blue, heavy lids, feet arched and small, wrists and ankles admirably formed, a white skin which, here and there allowed the azure branching of the veins to be seen, joy, a cheek that was young and fresh, the robust throat of the Juno of AEgina, a strong and supple nape of the neck, shoulders modelled as though by Coustou, with a voluptuous dimple in the middle, visible through the muslin; a gayety cooled by dreaminess; sculptural and exquisite--such was Fantine; and beneath these feminine adornments and these ribbons one could divine a statue, and in that statue a soul. Fantine was beautiful, without being too conscious of it. Those rare dreamers, mysterious priests of the beautiful who silently confront everything with perfection, would have caught a glimpse in this little working-woman, through the transparency of her Parisian grace, of the ancient sacred euphony. This daughter of the shadows was thoroughbred. She was beautiful in the two ways-- style and rhythm. Style is the form of the ideal; rhythm is its movement. We have said that Fantine was joy; she was also modesty. To an observer who studied her attentively, that which breathed from her athwart all the intoxication of her age, the season, and her love affair, was an invincible expression of reserve and modesty. She remained a little astonished. This chaste astonishment is the shade of difference which separates Psyche from Venus. Fantine had the long, white, fine fingers of the vestal virgin who stirs the ashes of the sacred fire with a golden pin. Although she would have refused nothing to Tholomyes, as we shall have more than ample opportunity to see, her face in repose was supremely virginal; a sort of serious and almost austere dignity suddenly overwhelmed her at certain times, and there was nothing more singular and disturbing than to see gayety become so suddenly extinct there, and meditation succeed to cheerfulness without any transition state. This sudden and sometimes severely accentuated gravity resembled the disdain of a goddess. Her brow, her nose, her chin, presented that equilibrium of outline which is quite distinct from equilibrium of proportion, and from which harmony of countenance results; in the very characteristic interval which separates the base of the nose from the upper lip, she had that imperceptible and charming fold, a mysterious sign of chastity, which makes Barberousse fall in love with a Diana found in the treasures of Iconia. Love is a fault; so be it. Fantine was innocence floating high over fault.

三　四对四 英 文 四十五年前的学生们和姑娘们到郊外游玩的情形，到今天①已是难以想象的了。巴黎的近郊已不是当年那模样，半个世纪以来，我们可以称为巴黎郊区生活的那种情况已完全改变了，从前有子规的地方，今天有了火车；从前有游艇的地方，今天有了汽船；从前的人谈圣克鲁②，正如今天的人谈费康③一样。一八六二年的巴黎已是一个以全法国作为近郊的城市了。 ①本书作于一八六二年，四十五年前即指一八一七年。 ②圣克鲁（St．Cloud），巴黎西郊的一个名胜区。 ③费康（Fécamp），英法海峡边上的一个港口。 当时在乡间所能得到的狂欢，那四对情人都一一尽情享受了。他们开始度暑假，这是个和暖爽朗的夏日。宠儿是唯一知道写字的人，她在前一日用四个人的名义写了这样一句话给多罗米埃：“青早出门很块乐。”①因此他们早晨五点就起身了。随后，他们坐上公共马车，去圣克鲁，看了一回干瀑布，大家喊着说：“有水的时候，一定很好看！”在加斯丹还没有到过的那个黑头饭店里用了午餐，在大池边的五株林里玩了一局七连环②，登上了第欧根尼的灯笼③，到过塞夫勒桥，拿着杏仁饼去押了轮盘赌，在普托采了许多花，在讷伊买了些芦管笛，沿途吃着苹果饺，快乐无比。 ①这句话的原文里有两个错字，以示宠儿识字不多。 ②恰似中国的九连环，但只有七个环。 ③第欧根尼的灯笼（lanternedeDiogène），当地的一游览场所。关于第欧根尼的灯笼，请参阅《悲惨世界》第三部732页及901页注。 这几个姑娘好象一群逃出笼子的秀眼鸟，喧噪谈笑，闹个不休。这是一种狂欢。她们不时和这些青年们撩撩打打。一生中少年时代的陶醉！可爱的岁月！蜻蜓的翅膀颤着！呀！无论你是谁，你总忘不了吧！你曾否穿越树丛，为跟在你后面走来的姣好的头分开枝叶呢？在雨后笑着从湿润的斜坡上滑下去，一个心爱的腻友牵着你的手，口里喊着：“呀！我崭新的鞋子！弄成什么样子了！”你曾否有过这样经历呢？ 让我们立刻说出来那件有趣的意外，那阵骤雨，对那一群兴高采烈的伴侣，多少有些扫兴，虽然宠儿在出发时曾用长官和慈母式的口吻说过：“孩子们，蜗牛在小路上爬，这是下雨的兆头。” 这四位姑娘都是美到令人心花怒放的。有位名震一时的古典派老诗人，自己也据有个美人儿的男子，拉布依斯骑士先生，那天也正在圣克鲁的栗树林里徘徊，他看见她们在早晨十点左右打那儿经过，叫道“可惜多了一个”，他心里想到了三位美惠女神①。勃拉什维尔的情人宠儿，二十三岁的那位大姐，在苍翠的虬枝下带头奔跑，跳过泥沟，放恣地跨过荆棘，兴致勃发，俨如田野间的幼年女神。至于瑟芬和大丽，在这场合下她们便互相接近，互相衬托，以表示她们的得意，她们寸步不离，互相倚偎，仿效英国人的姿态；我们与其说那是出于友谊，倒不如说她俩是天生爱俏。最初的几本《妇女时装手册》当时才出版不久，妇女们渐尚工愁的神情，正如日后的男子们摹仿拜伦一样，女性的头发已开始披散了，瑟芬和大丽的头发是转筒式的。李士多里和法梅依正谈论他们的教师，向芳汀述说戴尔文古先生和勃隆多先生的不同点。 ①指希腊神话中的三个美惠女神，优雅而美丽。 勃拉什维尔仿佛生来是专门替宠儿在星期日挽她那件德尔诺式的绒线披肩的。 多罗米埃跟在后面走，做那一伙的殿后。他也是有说有笑的，不过大家总觉得他是家长。他的嬉笑总含有专制君王的意味，他的主要服装是一条象腿式的南京布裤子，用一条铜丝带把裤脚扎在脚底，手里拿一条值两百法郎的粗藤手杖，他一向为所欲为，嘴里也就衔了一支叫做雪茄的那种怪东西。他真是目空一切，竟敢吸烟。 “这个多罗米埃真是特别，”大家都肃然起敬地那样说，“他竟穿那样的裤子！他真有魄力！” 至于芳汀，她就是欢乐。她那一嘴光彩夺目的牙齿明明从上帝那里奉了一道使命，笑的使命。一顶垂着白色长飘带的精致小草帽，她拿在手里的时候多，戴在头上的时候少。一头蓬松的黄发，偏偏喜欢飘舞，容易披散，不时需要整理，仿佛是为使垂杨下的仙女遮羞而生的。她的樱唇，喋喋不休，令人听了心醉。她嘴的两角含情脉脉地向上翘着，正如爱里柯尼的古代塑像，带着一种鼓励人放肆的神气；但是她那双迟疑的睫毛蔼然低垂在冶艳的面容上，又仿佛是在说着“行不得也哥哥”一样。她周身的装饰具有一种说不出的和谐和夺目的光彩。她穿了件玫瑰紫的毛织薄呢袍，一双闪烁的玲珑古式鞋，鞋带交叉结在两旁挑花的细质白袜上，还穿一件轻罗短衫，那种短衫，是马赛人新创的式样，名叫“加纳佐”①，这个字是“八月十五”的变音，在加纳皮尔大街上是那样读的，它的含义是“睛暖的南国”。其余那三个，我们已说过，比较放纵，都干脆露着胸部，那种装束，一到夏天，在花枝招展的帽子下显得格外妖娆恼人，但是在那种大胆的装饰之外，还有金发美人芳汀的那件薄如蝉翼的“八月十五”，若隐若现，亦盖亦彰，仿佛是一种独出心裁、惹人寻味的艳服。海绿眼睛的塞特子爵夫人所主持的那个有名的情宫，也许会把服装奖颁给这件追求娴静趣味的“八月十五”。最天真的人有时是最高明的。这是常有的事。光艳的脸儿，秀丽的侧影，眼睛深蓝，眼皮如凝脂，脚秀而翘，腕、踝都肥瘦适度，美妙天成，白皙的皮肤四处露着蔚蓝的脉络，两颊鲜润得和童女一样，颈脖肥硕如埃伊纳岛②的朱诺③，后颈窝显得既健壮又柔和，两肩仿佛是库斯图④塑造的，中间有一个动人的圆涡从轻罗下透出来，多愁工媚，冷若冰霜，状如石刻，色态如蝉娟，这样便是芳汀。在那朴素的衣服下面，我们可以想见一座塑像，塑像的心中有个灵魂。 ①“加纳佐”原文是canezou，和法文“八月十五”（quinzeaout）发音相近。 ②埃伊纳岛（Egine），希腊的一个岛。一八一一年掘出大批塑像。 ③朱诺（Junon），众神之后。 ④库斯图（Coustou），法国十八世纪的著名雕塑家。 芳汀很美，但她自己不大知道。偶然有些深思的人默默地用十全十美的标准来衡量一切事物，他们在这个小小女工的巴黎式的丰采中，也许会想见古代圣乐的和谐吧。这位出自幽谷的姑娘有根基，她在两个方面，风韵和容止方面都是美丽的。风韵是理想中的形象，容止是理想中的动静。 我们已经说过，芳汀就是欢乐，芳汀也就是贞操。一个旁观者，如果仔细研究她，就会知道，她在那种年龄、那种季节、那种爱慕的陶醉中表露出来的，只是一种谦虚谨慎、毫不苟且的神情。芳汀自己也有一些感到惊奇。这种纯洁的惊奇，也就是普赛克和维纳斯①之间的最细微的不同处。芳汀的手指，长而白，宛如拿着金针拨圣火灰的贞女。虽然她对多罗米埃的一切要求都不拒绝（关于这一点，我们以后还可以看得更清楚），但她的面貌，在静止时却仍是端庄如处子的，有时，她会突然表现出一种冷峻到近乎严肃的凛然不可犯的神情；我们看到她的欢乐忽然消失了，不需要经过一个中间阶段而立即继以沉思，世间再没有比这更奇特动人的情景了。这种突如其来的庄重，有时甚至显得严厉，正象女神的鄙夷神情。她的额、鼻和下颏具有线条上的平衡（绝不是比例上的平衡），因而构成了她面部的匀称，在从鼻底到上唇的那一段非常特别的地方，她有一种隐约难辨的美妙窝痕，那正是贞静的神秘标志，从前红胡子②之所以爱上在搜寻圣像时发现的一幅狄安娜③，也正是为了这样一种贞静之美。 好吧，爱是一种过失。芳汀却是飘浮在过失上的天贞。 ①普赛克（Psyché），希腊神话中的一个美女，爱神的情人。维纳斯（Vénus），美神。 ②红胡子（Barberousse），十六世纪有两个红胡子，兄弟俩，一个是海盗，一个是土耳其的舰队司令。 ③狄安娜（Diane），希腊神话中的猎神。

CHAPTER IV    THOLOMYES IS SO MERRY THAT HE SINGS A SPANISH DITTY Chinese That day was composed of dawn, from one end to the other. All nature seemed to be having a holiday, and to be laughing. The flower-beds of Saint-Cloud perfumed the air; the breath of the Seine rustled the leaves vaguely; the branches gesticulated in the wind, bees pillaged the jasmines; a whole bohemia of butterflies swooped down upon the yarrow, the clover, and the sterile oats; in the august park of the King of France there was a pack of vagabonds, the birds. The four merry couples, mingled with the sun, the fields, the flowers, the trees, were resplendent. And in this community of Paradise, talking, singing, running, dancing, chasing butterflies, plucking convolvulus, wetting their pink, open-work stockings in the tall grass, fresh, wild, without malice, all received, to some extent, the kisses of all, with the exception of Fantine, who was hedged about with that vague resistance of hers composed of dreaminess and wildness, and who was in love. "You always have a queer look about you," said Favourite to her. Such things are joys. These passages of happy couples are a profound appeal to life and nature, and make a caress and light spring forth from everything. There was once a fairy who created the fields and forests expressly for those in love,--in that eternal hedge-school of lovers, which is forever beginning anew, and which will last as long as there are hedges and scholars. Hence the popularity of spring among thinkers. The patrician and the knife-grinder, the duke and the peer, the limb of the law, the courtiers and townspeople, as they used to say in olden times, all are subjects of this fairy. They laugh and hunt, and there is in the air the brilliance of an apotheosis--what a transfiguration effected by love! Notaries' clerks are gods. And the little cries, the pursuits through the grass, the waists embraced on the fly, those jargons which are melodies, those adorations which burst forth in the manner of pronouncing a syllable, those cherries torn from one mouth by another,--all this blazes forth and takes its place among the celestial glories. Beautiful women waste themselves sweetly. They think that this will never come to an end. Philosophers, poets, painters, observe these ecstasies and know not what to make of it, so greatly are they dazzled by it. The departure for Cythera! exclaims Watteau; Lancret, the painter of plebeians, contemplates his bourgeois, who have flitted away into the azure sky; Diderot stretches out his arms to all these love idyls, and d'Urfe mingles druids with them. After breakfast the four couples went to what was then called the King's Square to see a newly arrived plant from India, whose name escapes our memory at this moment, and which, at that epoch, was attracting all Paris to Saint-Cloud. It was an odd and charming shrub with a long stem, whose numerous branches, bristling and leafless and as fine as threads, were covered with a million tiny white rosettes; this gave the shrub the air of a head of hair studded with flowers. There was always an admiring crowd about it. After viewing the shrub, Tholomyes exclaimed, "I offer you asses!" and having agreed upon a price with the owner of the asses, they returned by way of Vanvres and Issy. At Issy an incident occurred. The truly national park, at that time owned by Bourguin the contractor, happened to be wide open. They passed the gates, visited the manikin anchorite in his grotto, tried the mysterious little effects of the famous cabinet of mirrors, the wanton trap worthy of a satyr become a millionaire or of Turcaret metamorphosed into a Priapus. They had stoutly shaken the swing attached to the two chestnut-trees celebrated by the Abbe de Bernis. As he swung these beauties, one after the other, producing folds in the fluttering skirts which Greuze would have found to his taste, amid peals of laughter, the Toulousan Tholomyes, who was somewhat of a Spaniard, Toulouse being the cousin of Tolosa, sang, to a melancholy chant, the old ballad gallega, probably inspired by some lovely maid dashing in full flight upon a rope between two trees:--     "Soy de Badajoz,  "Badajoz is my home,     Amor me llama,    And Love is my name;     Toda mi alma,      To my eyes in flame,     Es en mi ojos,    All my soul doth come;     Porque ensenas,    For instruction meet     A tuas piernas.    I receive at thy feet" Fantine alone refused to swing. "I don't like to have people put on airs like that," muttered Favourite, with a good deal of acrimony. After leaving the asses there was a fresh delight; they crossed the Seine in a boat, and proceeding from Passy on foot they reached the barrier of l'Etoile. They had been up since five o'clock that morning, as the reader will remember; but bah! there is no such thing as fatigue on Sunday, said Favourite; on Sunday fatigue does not work. About three o'clock the four couples, frightened at their happiness, were sliding down the Russian mountains, a singular edifice which then occupied the heights of Beaujon, and whose undulating line was visible above the trees of the Champs Elysees. From time to time Favourite exclaimed:-- "And the surprise? I claim the surprise." "Patience," replied Tholomyes.