ferragus-第7章

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veins　as　thick　as　cords。　A　large　brown　circle　like　a　bruise　was
strongly　marked　beneath　his　eyes；　He　seemed　to　be　at　least　sixty　years
old。　His　hands　were　white　and　clean。　His　boots　were　trodden　down　at
the　heels；　and　full　of　holes。　A　pair　of　blue　trousers；　mended　in
various　places；　were　covered　with　a　species　of　fluff　which　made　them
offensive　to　the　eye。　Whether　it　was　that　his　damp　clothes　exhaled　a
fetid　odor；　or　that　he　had　in　his　normal　condition　the　〃poor　smell〃
which　belongs　to　Parisian　tenements；　just　as　offices；　sacristies；　and
hospitals　have　their　own　peculiar　and　rancid　fetidness；　of　which　no
words　can　give　the　least　idea；　or　whether　some　other　reason　affected
them；　those　in　the　vicinity　of　this　man　immediately　moved　away　and
left　him　alone。　He　cast　upon　them　and　also　upon　the　officer　a　calm；
expressionless　look；　the　celebrated　look　of　Monsieur　de　Talleyrand；　a
dull；　wan　glance；　without　warmth；　a　species　of　impenetrable　veil；
beneath　which　a　strong　soul　hides　profound　emotions　and　close
estimation　of　men　and　things　and　events。　Not　a　fold　of　his　face
quivered。　His　mouth　and　forehead　were　impassible；　but　his　eyes　moved
and　lowered　themselves　with　a　noble；　almost　tragic　slowness。　There
was；　in　fact；　a　whole　drama　in　the　motion　of　those　withered　eyelids。

The　aspect　of　this　stoical　figure　gave　rise　in　Monsieur　de　Maulincour
to　one　of　those　vagabond　reveries　which　begin　with　a　common　question
and　end　by　comprising　a　world　of　thought。　The　storm　was　past。　Monsieur
de　Maulincour　presently　saw　no　more　of　the　man　than　the　tail　of　his
coat　as　it　brushed　the　gate…post；　but　as　he　turned　to　leave　his　own
place　he　noticed　at　his　feet　a　letter　which　must　have　fallen　from　the
unknown　beggar　when　he　took；　as　the　baron　had　seen　him　take；　a
handkerchief　from　his　pocket。　The　young　man　picked　it　up；　and　read；
involuntarily；　the　address：　〃To　Monsieur　Ferragusse；　Rue　des　Grands…
Augustains；　corner　of　rue　Soly。〃

The　letter　bore　no　postmark；　and　the　address　prevented　Monsieur　de
Maulincour　from　following　the　beggar　and　returning　it；　for　there　are
few　passions　that　will　not　fail　in　rectitude　in　the　long　run。　The
baron　had　a　presentiment　of　the　opportunity　afforded　by　this　windfall。
He　determined　to　keep　the　letter；　which　would　give　him　the　right　to
enter　the　mysterious　house　to　return　it　to　the　strange　man；　not
doubting　that　he　lived　there。　Suspicions；　vague　as　the　first　faint
gleams　of　daylight；　made　him　fancy　relations　between　this　man　and
Madame　Jules。　A　jealous　lover　supposes　everything；　and　it　is　by
supposing　everything　and　selecting　the　most　probable　of　their
conjectures　that　judges；　spies；　lovers；　and　observers　get　at　the　truth
they　are　looking　for。

〃Is　the　letter　for　him？　Is　it　from　Madame　Jules？〃

His　restless　imagination　tossed　a　thousand　such　questions　to　him；　but
when　he　read　the　first　words　of　the　letter　he　smiled。　Here　it　is；
textually；　in　all　the　simplicity　of　its　artless　phrases　and　its
miserable　orthography；a　letter　to　which　it　would　be　impossible　to
add　anything；　or　to　take　anything　away；　unless　it　were　the　letter
itself。　But　we　have　yielded　to　the　necessity　of　punctuating　it。　In　the
original　there　were　neither　commas　nor　stops　of　any　kind；　not　even
notes　of　exclamation；a　fact　which　tends　to　undervalue　the　system　of
notes　and　dashes　by　which　modern　authors　have　endeavored　to　depict　the
great　disasters　of　all　the　passions：

　　Henry；Among　the　manny　sacrifisis　I　imposed　upon　myself　for　your
　　sake　was　that　of　not　giving　you　anny　news　of　me；　but　an
　　iresistible　voise　now　compells　me　to　let　you　know　the　wrong　you
　　have　done　me。　I　know　beforehand　that　your　soul　hardened　in　vise
　　will　not　pitty　me。　Your　heart　is　deaf　to　feeling。　Is　it　deaf　to
　　the　cries　of　nature？　But　what　matter？　I　must　tell　you　to　what　a
　　dredful　point　you　are　gilty；　and　the　horror　of　the　position　to
　　which　you　have　brought　me。　Henry；　you　knew　what　I　sufered　from　my
　　first　wrong…doing；　and　yet　you　plunged　me　into　the　same　misery；
　　and　then　abbandoned　me　to　my　dispair　and　sufering。　Yes；　I　will　say
　　it；　the　belif　I　had　that　you　loved　me　and　esteemed　me　gave　me
　　corage　to　bare　my　fate。　But　now；　what　have　I　left？　Have　you　not
　　made　me　loose　all　that　was　dear　to　me；　all　that　held　me　to　life；
　　parents；　frends；　onor；　reputation；all；　I　have　sacrifised　all　to
　　you；　and　nothing　is　left　me　but　shame；　oprobrum；　andI　say　this
　　without　blushingpoverty。　Nothing　was　wanting　to　my　misfortunes
　　but　the　sertainty　of　your　contempt　and　hatred；　and　now　I　have　them
　　I　find　the　corage　that　my　project　requires。　My　decision　is　made；
　　the　onor　of　my　famly　commands　it。　I　must　put　an　end　to　my
　　suferins。　Make　no　remarks　upon　my　conduct；　Henry；　it　is　orful；　I
　　know；　but　my　condition　obliges　me。　Without　help；　without　suport；
　　without　one　frend　to　comfort　me；　can　I　live？　No。　Fate　has　desided
　　for　me。　So　in　two　days；　Henry；　two　days；　Ida　will　have　seased　to
　　be　worthy　of　your　regard。　Oh；　Henry！　oh；　my　frend！　for　I　can　never
　　change　to　you；　promise　me　to　forgive　me　for　what　I　am　going　to　do。
　　Do　not　forget　that　you　have　driven　me　to　it；　it　is　your　work；　and
　　you　must　judge　it。　May　heven　not　punish　you　for　all　your　crimes。　I
　　ask　your　pardon　on　my　knees；　for　I　feel　nothing　is　wanting　to　my
　　misery　but　the　sorow　of　knowing　you　unhappy。　In　spite　of　the
　　poverty　I　am　in　I　shall　refuse　all　help　from　you。　If　you　had　loved
　　me　I　would　have　taken　all　from　your　friendship；　but　a　benfit　given
　　by　pitty　/my　soul　refussis/。　I　would　be　baser　to　take　it　than　he
　　who　offered　it。　I　have　one　favor　to　ask　of　you。　I　don't　know　how
　　long　I　must　stay　at　Madame　Meynardie's；　be　genrous　enough　not　to
　　come　there。　Your　last　two　vissits　did　me　a　harm　I　cannot　get　ofer。
　　I　cannot　enter　into　particlers　about　that　conduct　of　yours。　You
　　hate　me；you　said　so；　that　word　is　writen　on　my　heart；　and
　　freeses　it　with　fear。　Alas！　it　is　now；　when　I　need　all　my　corage；
　　all　my　strength；　that　my　faculties　abandon　me。　Henry；　my　frend；
　　before　I　put　a　barrier　forever　between　us；　give　me　a　last　pruf　of
　　your　esteem。　Write　me；　answer　me；　say　you　respect　me　still；　though
　　you　have　seased　to　love　me。　My　eyes　are　worthy　still　to　look　into
　　yours；　but　I　do　not　ask　an　interfew；　I　fear　my　weakness　and　my
　　love。　But　for　pitty's　sake　write　me　a　line　at　once；　it　will　give
　　me　the　corage　I　need　to　meet　my　trubbles。　Farewell；　orther　of　all
　　my　woes；　but　the　only　frend　my　heart　has　chosen　and　will　never
　　forget。

Ida。


This　life　of　a　young　girl；　with　its　love　betrayed；　its　fatal　joys；　its
pangs；　its　miseries；　and　its　horrible　resignation；　summed　up　in　a　few
words；　this　humble　poem；　essentially　Parisian；　written　on　dirty　paper；
influenced　for　a　passing　moment　Monsieur　de　Maulincour。　He　asked
himself　whether　this　Ida　might　not　be　some　poor　relation　of　Madame
Jules；　and　that　strange　rendezvous；　which　he　had　witnessed　by　chance；
the　mere　necessity　of　a　charitable　effort。　But　could　that　old　pauper
have　seduced　this　Ida？　There　was　something　impossible　in　the　very
idea。　Wandering　in　this　labyrinth　of　reflections；　which　crossed；
recrossed；　and　obliterated　one　another；　the　baron　reached　the　rue
Pagevin；　and　saw　a　hackney…coach　standing　at　the　end　of　the　rue　des
Vieux…Augustins　where　it　enters　the　rue　Montmartre。　All　waiting
hackney…coaches　now　had　an　interest　for　him。

〃Can　she　be　there？〃　he　thought　to　himself；　and　his　heart　beat　fast
with　a　hot　and　feverish　throbbing。

He　pushed　the　little　door　with　the　bell；　but　he　lowered　his　head　as　he
did　so；　obeying　a　sense　of　shame；　for　a　voice　said　to　him　secretly：

〃Why　are　you　putting　your　foot　into　this　mystery？〃

He　went　up　a　few　steps；　and　found　himself　face　to　face　with　the　old
portress。

〃Monsieur　Ferragus？〃　he　said。

〃Don't　know　him。〃

〃Doesn't　Monsieur　Ferragus　live　here？〃

〃Haven't　such　a　name　in　the　house。〃

〃But；　my　good　woman〃

〃I'm　not　your　good　woman；　monsieur；　I'm　the　portress。〃

〃But；　madame；〃　persisted　the　baron；　〃I　have　a　letter　for　Monsieur
Ferragus。〃

〃Ah！　if　monsieur　has　a　letter；〃　she　said；　changing　her　tone；　〃that's
another　matter。　Will　you　let　me　see　itthat　letter？〃

Auguste　showed　the　folded　letter。　The　old　woman　shook　her　head　with　a
doubtful　air；　hesitated；　seemed　to　wish　to　leave　the　lodge　and　inform
the　mysterious　Ferragus　of　his　unexpected　visitor；　but　finally　said：

〃Very　good；　go　up；　monsieur。　I　suppose　you　know　the　way？〃

Without　replying　to　this　remark；　which　he　thought　might　be　a　trap；　the
young　officer　ran　lightly　up　the　stairway；　and　rang　loudly　at　the　door
of　the　second　floor。　His　lover's　instinct　told　him；　〃She　is　there。〃

The　beggar　of　the　porch；　Ferragus；　the　〃orther〃　of　Ida's　woes；　opened
the　door　himself。　He　appeared　in　a　flowered　dressing…gown；　white
flannel　trousers；　his　feet　in　embroidered　slippers；　and　his　face
washed　clean　of　stains。　Madame　Jules；　whose　head　projected　beyond　the
casing　of　the　door　in　the　next　room；　turned　pale　and　dropped　into　a
chair。

〃What　is　the　matter；　madame？〃　cried　the　officer；　springing　toward　her。

But　Ferragus　stretched　forth　an　arm　and　flung　the　intruder　back　with
so　sharp　a　thrust　that　Auguste　fancied　he　had　received　a　blow　with　an
iron　bar　full　on　his　chest。

〃Back！　monsieur；〃　said　the　man。　〃What　do　you　want　there？　For　five　or
six　days　you　have　been　roaming　about　the　neighborhood。　Are　you　a　spy？〃

〃Are　you　Monsieur　Ferragus？〃　said　the　baron。

〃No；　monsieur。〃

〃Nevertheless；〃　continued　Auguste；　〃it　is　to　you　that　I　must　return
this　paper　which　you　dropped　in　the　gateway　beneath　which　we　both　took
refuge　from　the　rain。〃

While　speaking　and　offering　the　letter　to　the　man；　Auguste　did　not
refrain　from　casting　an　eye　around　the　room　where　Ferragus　received
him。　It　was　very　well　arranged；　though　simply。　A　fire　burned　on　the
hearth；　and　near　it　was　a　table　with　food　upon　it；　which　was　served
more　sumptuously　than　agreed　with　the　apparent　conditions　of　the　man
and　the　poorness　of　his　lodging。　On　a　sofa　in　the　next　room；　which　he
could　see　through　the　doorway；　lay　a　heap　of　gold；　and　he　heard　a
sound　which　could　be　no　other　than　that　of　a　woman　weeping。

〃The　paper　belongs　to　me；　I　am　much　obliged　to　you；〃　said　the
mysterious　man；　turning　away　as　if　to　make　the　baron　understand　that
he　must　go。

Too　curious　himself　to　take　much　note　of　the　deep　examination　of　which
he　was　himself　the　object；　Auguste　did　not　see　the　half…magnetic
glance　with　which　this　strange　being　seemed　to　pierce　him；　had　he
encountered　that　basilisk　eye　he　might　have　felt　the　danger　that
encompassed　him。　Too　passionately　excited　to　think　of　himself；　Auguste
bowed；　went　down　the　stairs；　and　returned　home；　striving　to　find　a
meaning　in　the　connection　of　these　three　persons；Ida；　Ferragus；　and
Madame　Jules；　an　occupation　equivalent　to　that　of　trying　to　arrange
the　many…cornered　bits　of　a　Chinese　puzzle　without　possessing　the　key
to　the　game。　But　Madame　Jules　had　seen　him；　Madame　Jules　went　there；
Madame　Jules　had　lied　to　him。　Maulincour　determined　to　go　and　see　her
the　next　day。　She　could　not　refuse　his　visit；　for　he　was　now　her
accomplice；　he　was　hands　and　feet　in　the　mysterious　affair；　and　she
knew　it。　Already　he　felt　himself　a　sultan；　and　thought