the nabob-第71章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　so　deeply　compromised　in　the　affairs　of　the　〃Malta　Biscuits；〃　that；　in　spite　of　his　age；　his　services；　and　the　great　scandal　of　such　a　proceeding；　he　had　been　condemned　to　two　years　of　prison；　struck　off　the　roll　of　the　Legion　of　Honour；　of　which　he　had　been　one　of　the　dignitaries。　The　affair　was　long　ago；　the　poor　wretch　had　just　been　let　out　of　prison　before　his　sentence　had　expired；　lost；　ruined；　not　having　even　the　means　to　gild　his　trouble；　for　he　had　had　to　pay　what　he　owed。　Standing　on　the　curb；　he　was　waiting　with　bent　head　till　the　crowds　of　carriages　should　allow　him　to　pass；　embarrassed　by　this　stoppage　at　the　fullest　spot　of　the　boulevards　between　the　passers…by　and　the　sea　of　open　carriages　filled　with　familiar　figures。　Monpavon　walking　near　him；　caught　his　timid；　uneasy　look；　imploring　a　recognition　and　hiding　from　it　at　the　same　time。　The　idea　that　one　day　he　could　humiliate　himself　thus；　gave　him　a　shudder　of　revolt。　〃Oh！　that　is　not　possible！〃　And　straightening　himself　up　and　throwing　out　his　chest；　he　kept　on　his　way；　firmer　and　more　resolute　than　before。

M。　de　Monpavon　walks　to　his　death！　He　goes　there　by　the　long　line　of　the　boulevards；　all　on　fire　in　the　direction　of　the　Madeleine；　where　he　treads　the　elastic　asphalt　once　more　as　a　lounger；　nose　in　the　air；　hands　crossed　behind。　He　has　time；　there　is　no　hurry；　he　is　master　of　the　rendezvous。　At　each　instant　he　smiles　before　him；　waves　a　greeting　from　the　ends　of　his　fingers　or　makes　the　more　formal　bow　we　have　just　seen。　Everything　revives　him；　charms　him；　the　noise　of　the　watering…　carts；　the　awnings　of　the　/cafes/；　pulled　down　to　the　middle　of　the　foot…paths。　The　approach　of　death　gives　him　the　feelings　of　a　convalescent　accessible　to　all　the　delicacy；　the　hidden　poesy　of　an　exquisite　hour　of　summer　in　the　midst　of　Parisian　lifeof　an　exquisite　hourhis　last；　and　which　he　will　prolong　till　night。　No　doubt　it　is　for　that　reason　that　he　passes　the　sumptuous　establishment　where　he　ordinarily　takes　his　bath。　He　does　not　stop　either　at　the　Chinese　Baths。　He　is　too　well　known　here。　All　Paris　would　know　of　it　the　same　evening。　There　would　be　a　scandal　of　bad　taste；　much　coarse　rumour　about　his　death　in　the　clubs　and　drawing…rooms。　And　the　old　sensualist；　the　well…bred　man；　wishes　to　spare　himself　this　shame；　to　plunge　and　be　swallowed　up　in　the　vague　anonymity　of　suicide；　like　those　soldiers　who；　after　great　battles；　neither　wounded；　dead；　or　living；　are　simply　put　down　as　〃missing。〃　That　is　why　he　has　nothing　on　him　which　can　be　recognised；　or　furnish　a　hint　to　the　inquiries　of　the　police；　why　he　seeks　in　this　immense　Paris　the　distant　quarter　where　will　open　for　him　the　terrible　but　oblivious　confusion　of　the　pauper's　grave。　Already；　since　Monpavon　has　been　walking；　the　aspect　of　the　boulevard　has　changed。　The　crowd　has　become　more　compact；　more　active；　and　preoccupied；　the　houses　smaller；　marked　with　signs　of　commerce。　When　the　gates　of　Saint…Denis　and　Saint…Martin　are　passed；　with　their　overflow　from　the　faubourgs；　the　provincial　physiognomy　of　the　town　accentuates　itself。　The　old　beau　no　longer　knows　any　one；　and　can　congratulate　himself　on　being　unknown。

The　shopkeepers　looking　curiously　after　him；　with　his　fine　linen；　his　well…cut　coat；　and　good　figure；　take　him　for　some　famous　actor　strolling　on　the　boulevardwitness　of　his　first　triumphsbefore　the　play　begins。　The　wind　freshens；　the　twilight　softens　the　distances；　and　while　the　long　road　behind　him　still　glitters；　it　grows　darker　now　at　every　steplike　the　past；　with　its　retrospections　to　him　who　looks　back　and　regrets。　It　seems　to　Monpavon　that　he　is　walking　into　blackness。　He　shivers　a　little；　but　does　not　falter；　and　continues　to　walk　with　erect　head　and　chest　thrown　out。

M。　de　Monpavon　walks　to　his　death！　Now　he　is　entering　the　complicated　labyrinth　of　noisy　streets；　where　the　clatter　of　the　omnibus　mingles　with　the　thousand　humming　trades　of　the　working　city；　where　the　heat　of　the　factory　chimneys　loses　itself　in　the　fever　of　a　whole　people　struggling　against　hunger。　The　air　trembles；　the　gutters　steam；　the　houses　shake　at　the　passing　of　the　wagons；　of　the　heavy　drays　rumbling　round　the　narrow　streets。　On　a　sudden　the　marquis　stops；　he　has　found　what　he　wanted。　Between　the　black　shop　of　a　charcoal…seller　and　the　establishment　of　a　packing…case　maker；　whose　pine　boards　leaning　on　the　walls　give　him　a　little　shiver；　there　is　a　wide　door；　surmounted　by　its　sign；　the　word　BATHS　on　a　dirty　lantern。　He　enters；　crosses　a　little　damp　garden　where　a　jet　of　water　weeps　in　a　rockery。　Here　is　the　gloomy　corner　he　was　looking　for。　Who　would　ever　believe　that　the　Marquis　de　Monpavon　had　come　there　to　cut　his　throat？　The　house　is　at　the　end；　low；　with　green　blinds　and　a　glass　door；　with　a　sham　air　of　a　villa。　He　asks　for　a　bath；　and　while　it　is　being　prepared　he　smokes　his　cigar　at　the　window；　with　the　noise　of　the　water　behind　him；　looks　at　the　flower…bed　of　sparse　lilac；　and　the　high　walls　which　inclose　it。

At　the　side　there　is　a　great　yard；　the　court…yard　of　a　fire　station；　with　a　gymnasium；　whose　masts　and　swings；　vaguely　seen　from　below；　look　like　gibbets。　A　bugle…call　sounds　in　the　yard；　and　its　call　takes　the　marquis　thirty　years　back；　reminds　him　of　his　campaigns　in　Algeria；　the　high　ramparts　of　Constantine；　the　arrival　of　Mora　at　the　regiment；　and　the　duels；　and　the　little　parties。　Ah！　how　well　life　began　then！　What　a　pity　that　those　cursed　cardspspsps　Well；　it's　something　to　have　saved　appearances。

〃Your　bath　is　ready；　sir；〃　said　the　attendant。



At　that　moment；　breathless　and　pale；　Mme。　Jenkins　was　entering　Andre's　studio；　where　an　instinct　stronger　than　her　will　had　brought　herthe　wish　to　embrace　her　child　before　she　died。　When　she　opened　the　door　（he　had　given　her　a　key）　she　was　relieved　to　find　that　he　was　not　there；　and　that　she　would　have　time　to　calm　her　excitement；　increased　as　it　was　by　the　long　walk　to　which　she　was　so　little　accustomed。　No　one　was　there。　But　on　the　table　was　the　little　note　which　he　always　left　when　he　went　out；　so　that　his　mother；　whose　visits　were　becoming　shorter　and　less　frequent　on　account　of　the　tyranny　of　Jenkins；　could　tell　where　he　was；　and　wait　for　him　or　rejoin　him　easily。　The　two　had　not　ceased　to　love　each　other　deeply；　tenderly；　in　spite　of　the　cruelty　of　life　which　forced　into　the　relations　of　mother　and　son　the　clandestine　precautions　of　an　intrigue。

〃I　am　at　my　rehearsal；〃　said　the　note　to…day；　〃I　shall　be　back　at　seven。〃

This　attention　of　the　son；　whom　she　had　not　seen　for　three　weeks；　yet　who　persisted　in　expecting　her　all　the　same；　brought　to　the　mother's　eyes　the　flood　of　tears　which　was　suffocating　her。　She　felt　as　if　she　had　just　entered　a　new　world。　This　little　room　was　so　pure；　so　quiet；　so　elevated。　It　kept　the　last　rays　of　the　setting　sun　on　its　windows；　and　seemed；　with　its　bare　walls；　hewn　from　a　corner　of　the　sky。　It　was　adorned　only　with　one　great　portrait；　hers；　nothing　but　hers；　smiling　in　the　place　of　honour；　and　again；　down　there；　on　the　table　in　a　gilt　frame。　This　humble　little　lodging；　so　light　when　all　Paris　was　becoming　dark；　made　an　extraordinary　impression　on　her；　in　spite　of　the　poverty　of　its　sparse　furniture；　scattered　in　two　rooms；　its　common　chintz；　and　its　chimney　garnished　with　two　great　bunches　of　hyacinthsthose　flowers　which　are　hawked　round　the　streets　in　barrowsful。　What　a　good　and　worthy　life　she　could　have　led　by　the　side　of　her　Andre！　And　in　her　mind's　eye　she　had　arranged　her　bed　in　one　corner；　her　piano　in　another；　she　saw　herself　giving　lessons；　and　caring　for　the　home　to　which　she　was　adding　her　share　of　ease　and　courageous　gaiety。　How　was　it　that　she　had　not　seen　that　her　duty；　the　pride　of　her　widowhood；　was　there？　By　what　blindness；　what　unworthy　weakness？

It　was　a　great　fault；　no　doubt；　but　one　for　which　many　excuses　might　be　found　in　her　easy　and　tender　disposition；　and　the　clever　knavery　of　her　accomplice；　always　talking　of　marriage；　hiding　from　her　that　he　himself　was　no　longer　free；　and　when　at　last　obliged　to　confess　it；　painting　such　a　picture　of　his　dull　life；　of　his　despair；　of　his　love；　that　the　poor　creature；　so　deeply　compromised　already；　and　incapable　of　one　of　those　heroic　efforts　which　raise　the　sufferer　above　the　false　situations；　had　given　way　at　last；　had　accepted　this　double　existence；　so　brilliant　and　so　miserable；　built　on　a　lie　which　had　lasted　ten　years。　Ten　years　of　intoxicating　success　and　unspeakable　unhappinessten　years　of　singing；　with　the　fear　of　exposure　between　each　versewhere　the　least　remark　on　irregular　unions　wounded　her　like　an　allusionwhere　the　expression　of　her　face　had　softened　to　the　air　of　mild　humility；　of　a　guilty　woman　begging　for　pardon。　Then　the　certainty　that　she　would　be　deserted　had　come　to　spoil　even　these　borrowed　joys；　had　tarnished　her　luxury；　and　what　misery；　what　sufferings　borne　in　silence；　what　incessant　humiliations；　even　to　this　last；　the　most　terrible　of　all！

While　she　is　thus　sadly　reviewing　her　life　in　the　cool　of　the　evening　and　the　calm　of　the　deserted　house；　a　gust　of　happy　laughter　rose　from　the　rooms　beneath；　and　recalling　the　confidences　of　Andre；　his　last　letter　telling　the　great　news；　she　tried　to　distinguish　among　all　these　fresh　and　limpid　voices　that　of　her　daughter　Elise；　her　son's　betrothed；　whom　she　did　not　know；　whom　she　would　never　know。　This　reflection　added　to　the　misery　of　her　last　moments；　and　loaded　them　with　so　much　remorse　and　regret　that；　in　spite　of　her　will　to　be　brave；　she　wept。

Night　comes　on　little　by　little。　Large　shadows　cover　the　sloping　windows；　where　the　immense　depth　of　the　sky　seems　to　lose　its　colour；　and　to　deepen　into　obscurity。　The　roofs　seem　to　draw　close　together　for　the　night；　like　soldiers　preparing　for　the　attack。　The　bells　count　the　hours　gravely；　while　the　martins　fly　round　their　hidden　nests；　and　the　wind　makes　its　accustomed　invasion　of　the　rubbish　of　the　old　wood…　yard。　To…night　it　sighs　with　the　sound　of　the　river；　a　shiver　of　the　fog；　it　sighs　of　the　river；　to　remind　the　unfortunate　woman　that　it　is　there　she　must　go。　She　shivers　beforehand　in　her　lace　mantle。　Why　did　she　come　here　to　reawaken　her　desire　for　a　life　impossible　after　the　avowal　she　was　forced　to　make？　Hasty　steps　shake　the　staircase；　the　door　opens　precipitately；　it　is　Andre。　He　is　singing；　happy；　in　a　great　hurry；　for　they　are　waiting　dinner　for　him　below。　But；　as　he　is　striking　the　match；　he　feels　that　someone　is　in　the　rooma　moving　shadow　among　the　shadows　at　rest。

〃Who　is　there？〃

Something　answers　him　like　a　stifled　laugh　or　a　sob。　He　believes　that　it　is　one　of　his　little　neighbours；　a　plot　of　the　children　to　amuse　themselves。　He　draws　near。　Two　hands；　two　arms；　seize　and　surround　him。

〃It　is　I。〃

And　with　a　feverish　voice；　hurrying　as　if　to　assure　herself；　she　tells　him　that　she　is　setting　out　on　a　long　journey；　and　that　before　going

〃A　journey！　And　where　are　you　going？〃

〃Oh；　I　do　not　know。　We　are　going　over　there；　a　long　way；　on　business　in　his　own　part　of　the　world。〃

〃What！　You　will　not　be　here　for　my　play？　It　is　in　three　days。　And　then；　immediately　after；　my　marriage。　Come　now；　he　cannot　hinder　you　from　coming　to　my　marriage？〃

She　makes　excuses；　imagines　reasons；　but　her　hands　burning　between　he