雨果 悲惨世界 英文版1-第47章

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　from　the　direction　of　the　rays；　it　could　only　e　from　the　window　of　M。　Madeleine's　chamber。
　　The　reflection　wavered；　as　though　it　came　rather　from　a　fire　which　had　been　lighted　than　from　a　candle。　The　shadow　of　the　window…frame　was　not　shown；　which　indicated　that　the　window　was　wide　open。
　　The　fact　that　this　window　was　open　in　such　cold　weather　was　surprising。
　　The　cashier　fell　asleep　again。　An　hour　or　two　later　he　waked　again。
　　The　same　step　was　still　passing　slowly　and　regularly　back　and　forth　overhead。
　　The　reflection　was　still　visible　on　the　wall；　but　now　it　was　pale　and　peaceful；　like　the　reflection　of　a　lamp　or　of　a　candle。　The　window　was　still　open。
　　This　is　what　had　taken　place　in　M。　Madeleine's　room。


BOOK　SEVENTH。THE　CHAMPMATHIEU　AFFAIR
CHAPTER　III　（1）
　　A　TEMPEST　IN　A　SKULL
　　　The　reader　has；　no　doubt；　already　divined　that　M。　Madeleine　is　no　other　than　Jean　Valjean。
　　We　have　already　gazed　into　the　depths　of　this　conscience；　the　moment　has　now　e　when　we　must　take　another　look　into　it。　We　do　so　not　without　emotion　and　trepidation。
　　There　is　nothing　more　terrible　in　existence　than　this　sort　of　contemplation。　The　eye　of　the　spirit　can　nowhere　find　more　dazzling　brilliance　and　more　shadow　than　in　man；　it　can　fix　itself　on　no　other　thing　which　is　more　formidable；　more　plicated；　more　mysterious；　and　more　infinite。
　　There　is　a　spectacle　more　grand　than　the　sea；　it　is　heaven：
　　there　is　a　spectacle　more　grand　than　heaven；　it　is　the　inmost　recesses　of　the　soul。
　　To　make　the　poem　of　the　human　conscience；　were　it　only　with　reference　to　a　single　man；　were　it　only　in　connection　with　the　basest　of　men；　would　be　to　blend　all　epics　into　one　superior　and　definitive　epic。　Conscience　is　the　chaos　of　chimeras；　of　lusts；　and　of　temptations；　the　furnace　of　dreams；　the　lair　of　ideas　of　which　we　are　ashamed；　it　is　the　pandemonium　of　sophisms；　it　is　the　battlefield　of　the　passions。　Penetrate；　at　certain　hours；　past　the　livid　face　of　a　human　being　who　is　engaged　in　reflection；　and　look　behind；　gaze　into　that　soul；　gaze　into　that　obscurity。
　　There；　beneath　that　external　silence；　battles　of　giants；　like　those　recorded　in　Homer；　are　in　progress；　skirmishes　of　dragons　and　hydras　and　swarms　of　phantoms；　as　in　Milton；　visionary　circles；　as　in　Dante。
　　What　a　solemn　thing　is　this　infinity　which　every　man　bears　within　him；　and　which　he　measures　with　despair　against　the　caprices　of　his　brain　and　the　actions　of　his　life！
　　Alighieri　one　day　met　with　a　sinister…looking　door；　before　which　he　hesitated。
　　Here　is　one　before　us；　upon　whose　threshold　we　hesitate。　Let　us　enter；　nevertheless。
　　We　have　but　little　to　add　to　what　the　reader　already　knows　of　what　had　happened　to　Jean　Valjean　after　the　adventure　with　Little　Gervais。　From　that　moment　forth　he　was；　as　we　have　seen；　a　totally　different　man。　What　the　Bishop　had　wished　to　make　of　him；　that　he　carried　out。　It　was　more　than　a　transformation；　it　was　a　transfiguration。
　　He　succeeded　in　disappearing；　sold　the　Bishop's　silver；　reserving　only　the　candlesticks　as　a　souvenir；　crept　from　town　to　town；　traversed　France；　came　to　M。　sur　M。；　conceived　the　idea　which　we　have　mentioned；　acplished　what　we　have　related；　succeeded　in　rendering　himself　safe　from　seizure　and　inaccessible；　and；　thenceforth；　established　at　M。　sur　M。；　happy　in　feeling　his　conscience　saddened　by　the　past　and　the　first　half　of　his　existence　belied　by　the　last；　he　lived　in　peace；　reassured　and　hopeful；　having　henceforth　only　two　thoughts；to　conceal　his　name　and　to　sanctify　his　life；　to　escape　men　and　to　return　to　God。
　　These　two　thoughts　were　so　closely　intertwined　in　his　mind　that　they　formed　but　a　single　one　there；　both　were　equally　absorbing　and　imperative　and　ruled　his　slightest　actions。
　　In　general；　they　conspired　to　regulate　the　conduct　of　his　life；　they　turned　him　towards　the　gloom；　they　rendered　him　kindly　and　simple；　they　counselled　him　to　the　same　things。
　　Sometimes；　however；　they　conflicted。
　　In　that　case；　as　the　reader　will　remember；　the　man　whom　all　the　country　of　M。　sur　M。　called　M。　Madeleine　did　not　hesitate　to　sacrifice　the　first　to　the　secondhis　security　to　his　virtue。
　　Thus；　in　spite　of　all　his　reserve　and　all　his　prudence；　he　had　preserved　the　Bishop's　candlesticks；　worn　mourning　for　him；　summoned　and　interrogated　all　the　little　Savoyards　who　passed　that　way；　collected　information　regarding　the　families　at　Faverolles；　and　saved　old　Fauchelevent's　life；　despite　the　disquieting　insinuations　of　Javert。
　　It　seemed；　as　we　have　already　remarked；　as　though　he　thought；　following　the　example　of　all　those　who　have　been　wise；　holy；　and　just；　that　his　first　duty　was　not　towards　himself。
　　At　the　same　time；　it　must　be　confessed；　nothing　just　like　this　had　yet　presented　itself。
　　Never　had　the　two　ideas　which　governed　the　unhappy　man　whose　sufferings　we　are　narrating；　engaged　in　so　serious　a　struggle。　He　understood　this　confusedly　but　profoundly　at　the　very　first　words　pronounced　by　Javert；　when　the　latter　entered　his　study。
　　At　the　moment　when　that　name；　which　he　had　buried　beneath　so　many　layers；　was　so　strangely　articulated；　he　was　struck　with　stupor；　and　as　though　intoxicated　with　the　sinister　eccentricity　of　his　destiny；　and　through　this　stupor　he　felt　that　shudder　which　precedes　great　shocks。
　　He　bent　like　an　oak　at　the　approach　of　a　storm；　like　a　soldier　at　the　approach　of　an　assault。
　　He　felt　shadows　filled　with　thunders　and　lightnings　descending　upon　his　head。　As　he　listened　to　Javert；　the　first　thought　which　occurred　to　him　was　to　go；　to　run　and　denounce　himself；　to　take　that　Champmathieu　out　of　prison　and　place　himself　there；　this　was　as　painful　and　as　poignant　as　an　incision　in　the　living　flesh。
　　Then　it　passed　away；　and　he　said　to　himself；　〃We　will　see！
　　We　will　see！〃
　　He　repressed　this　first；　generous　instinct；　and　recoiled　before　heroism。
　　It　would　be　beautiful；　no　doubt；　after　the　Bishop's　holy　words；　after　so　many　years　of　repentance　and　abnegation；　in　the　midst　of　a　penitence　admirably　begun；　if　this　man　had　not　flinched　for　an　instant；　even　in　the　presence　of　so　terrible　a　conjecture；　but　had　continued　to　walk　with　the　same　step　towards　this　yawning　precipice；　at　the　bottom　of　which　lay　heaven；　that　would　have　been　beautiful；　but　it　was　not　thus。
　　We　must　render　an　account　of　the　things　which　went　on　in　this　soul；　and　we　can　only　tell　what　there　was　there。　He　was　carried　away；　at　first；　by　the　instinct　of　self…preservation；　he　rallied　all　his　ideas　in　haste；　stifled　his　emotions；　took　into　consideration　Javert's　presence；　that　great　danger；　postponed　all　decision　with　the　firmness　of　terror；　shook　off　thought　as　to　what　he　had　to　do；　and　resumed　his　calmness　as　a　warrior　picks　up　his　buckler。
　　He　remained　in　this　state　during　the　rest　of　the　day；　a　whirlwind　within；　a　profound　tranquillity　without。
　　He　took　no　〃preservative　measures；〃　as　they　may　be　called。
　　Everything　was　still　confused；　and　jostling　together　in　his　brain。
　　His　trouble　was　so　great　that　he　could　not　perceive　the　form　of　a　single　idea　distinctly；　and　he　could　have　told　nothing　about　himself；　except　that　he　had　received　a　great　blow。
　　He　repaired　to　Fantine's　bed　of　suffering；　as　usual；　and　prolonged　his　visit；　through　a　kindly　instinct；　telling　himself　that　he　must　behave　thus；　and　remend　her　well　to　the　sisters；　in　case　he　should　be　obliged　to　be　absent　himself。
　　He　had　a　vague　feeling　that　he　might　be　obliged　to　go　to　Arras；　and　without　having　the　least　in　the　world　made　up　his　mind　to　this　trip；　he　said　to　himself　that　being；　as　he　was；　beyond　the　shadow　of　any　suspicion；　there　could　be　nothing　out　of　the　way　in　being　a　witness　to　what　was　to　take　place；　and　he　engaged　the　tilbury　from　Scaufflaire　in　order　to　be　prepared　in　any　event。
　　He　dined　with　a　good　deal　of　appetite。
　　On　returning　to　his　room；　he　muned　with　himself。
　　He　examined　the　situation；　and　found　it　unprecedented；　so　unprecedented　that　in　the　midst　of　his　revery　he　rose　from　his　chair；　moved　by　some　inexplicable　impulse　of　anxiety；　and　bolted　his　door。
　　He　feared　lest　something　more　should　enter。　He　was　barricading　himself　against　possibilities。
　　A　moment　later　he　extinguished　his　light；　it　embarrassed　him。
　　lt　seemed　to　him　as　though　he　might　be　seen。
　　By　whom？
　　Alas！
　　That　on　which　he　desired　to　close　the　door　had　already　entered；　that　which　he　desired　to　blind　was　staring　him　in　the　face；　his　conscience。
　　His　conscience；　that　is　to　say；　God。
　　Nevertheless；　he　deluded　himself　at　first；　he　had　a　feeling　of　security　and　of　solitude；　the　bolt　once　drawn；　he　thought　himself　impregnable；　the　candle　extinguished；　he　felt　himself　invisible。
　　Then　he　took　possession　of　himself：
　　he　set　his　elbows　on　the　table；　leaned　his　head　on　his　hand；　and　began　to　meditate　in　the　dark。
　　〃Where　do　I　stand？
　　Am　not　I　dreaming？
　　What　have　I　heard？
　　Is　it　really　true　that　I　have　seen　that　Javert；　and　that　he　spoke　to　me　in　that　manner？
　　Who　can　that　Champmathieu　be？
　　So　he　resembles　me！　Is　it　possible？
　　When　I　reflect　that　yesterday　I　was　so　tranquil；　and　so　far　from　suspecting　anything！
　　What　was　I　doing　yesterday　at　this　hour？
　　What　is　there　in　this　incident？
　　What　will　the　end　be？　What　is　to　be　done？〃
　　This　was　the　torment　in　which　he　found　himself。
　　His　brain　had　lost　its　power　of　retaining　ideas；　they　passed　like　waves；　and　he　clutched　his　brow　in　both　hands　to　arrest　them。
　　Nothing　but　anguish　extricated　itself　from　this　tumult　which　overwhelmed　his　will　and　his　reason；　and　from　which　he　sought　to　draw　proof　and　resolution。
　　His　head　was　burning。
　　He　went　to　the　window　and　threw　it　wide　open。　There　were　no　stars　in　the　sky。
　　He　returned　and　seated　himself　at　the　table。
　　The　first　hour　passed　in　this　manner。
　　Gradually；　however；　vague　outlines　began　to　take　form　and　to　fix　themselves　in　his　meditation；　and　he　was　able　to　catch　a　glimpse　with　precision　of　the　reality；not　the　whole　situation；　but　some　of　the　details。
　　He　began　by　recognizing　the　fact　that；　critical　and　extraordinary　as　was　this　situation；　he　was　pletely　master　of　it。
　　This　only　caused　an　increase　of　his　stupor。
　　Independently　of　the　severe　and　religious　aim　which　he　had　assigned　to　his　actions；　all　that　he　had　made　up　to　that　day　had　been　nothing　but　a　hole　in　which　to　bury　his　name。
　　That　which　he　had　always　feared　most　of　all　in　his　hours　of　self…munion；　during　his　sleepless　nights；　was　to　ever　hear　that　name　pronounced；　he　had　said　to　himself；　that　that　would　be　the　end　of　all　things　for　him；　that　on　the　day　when　that　name　made　its　reappearance　it　would　cause　his　new　life　to　vanish　from　about　him；　andwho　knows？　perhaps　even　his　new　soul　within　him；　also。
　　He　shuddered　at　the　very　thought　that　this　was　possible。
　　Assuredly；　if　any　one　had　said　to　him　at　such　moments　that　the　hour　would　e　when　that　name　would　ring　in　his　ears；　when　the　hideous　words；　Jean　Valjean；　would　suddenly　emerge　from　the　darkness　and　rise　in　front　of　him；　when　that　formidable　light；　capable　of　dissipating　the　mystery　in　which　he　had　enveloped　himself；　would　suddenly　blaze　forth　above