father goriot(高老头)-第2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！


ere；　which　finds　its　way　into　lodging…houses　much　as　the　wrecks　of　our　civilization　drift　into　hospitals　for　incurables。　You　expect　in　such　places　as　these　to　find　the　weather…house　whence　a　Capuchin　issues　on　wet　days；　you　look　to　find　the　execrable　engravings　which　spoil　your　appetite；　framed　every　one　in　a　black　varnished　frame；　with　a　gilt　beading　round　it；　you　know　the　sort　of　tortoise…shell　clock…case；　inlaid　with　brass；　the　green　stove；　the　Argand　lamps；　covered　with　oil　and　dust；　have　met　your　eyes　before。　The　oilcloth　which　covers　the　long　table　is　so　greasy　that　a　waggish　externe　will　write　his　name　on　the　surface；　using　his　thumb…nail　as　a　style。　The　chairs　are　broken…down　invalids；　the　wretched　little　hempen　mats　slip　away　from　under　your　feet　without　slipping　away　for　good；　and　finally；　the　foot…warmers　are　miserable　wrecks；　hingeless；　charred；　broken　away　about　the　holes。　It　would　be　impossible　to　give　an　idea　of　the　old；　rotten；　shaky；　cranky；　worm…eaten；　halt；　maimed；　one…　eyed；　rickety；　and　ramshackle　condition　of　the　furniture　without　an　exhaustive　description；　which　would　delay　the　progress　of　the　story　to　an　extent　that　impatient　people　would　not　pardon。　The　red　tiles　of　the　floor　are　full　of　depressions　brought　about　by　scouring　and　periodical　renewings　of　color。　In　short；　there　is　no　illusory　grace　left　to　the　poverty　that　reigns　here；　it　is　dire；　parsimonious；　concentrated；　threadbare　poverty；　as　yet　it　has　not　sunk　into　the　mire；　it　is　only　splashed　by　it；　and　though　not　in　rags　as　yet；　its　clothing　is　ready　to　drop　to　pieces。

This　apartment　is　in　all　its　glory　at　seven　o'clock　in　the　morning；　when　Mme。　Vauquer's　cat　appears；　announcing　the　near　approach　of　his　mistress；　and　jumps　upon　the　sideboards　to　sniff　at　the　milk　in　the　bowls；　each　protected　by　a　plate；　while　he　purrs　his　morning　greeting　to　the　world。　A　moment　later　the　widow　shows　her　face；　she　is　tricked　out　in　a　net　cap　attached　to　a　false　front　set　on　awry；　and　shuffles　into　the　room　in　her　slipshod　fashion。　She　is　an　oldish　woman；　with　a　bloated　countenance；　and　a　nose　like　a　parrot's　beak　set　in　the　middle　of　it；　her　fat　little　hands　（she　is　as　sleek　as　a　church　rat）　and　her　shapeless；　slouching　figure　are　in　keeping　with　the　room　that　reeks　of　misfortune；　where　hope　is　reduced　to　speculate　for　the　meanest　stakes。　Mme。　Vauquer　alone　can　breathe　that　tainted　air　without　being　disheartened　by　it。　Her　face　is　as　fresh　as　a　frosty　morning　in　autumn；　there　are　wrinkles　about　the　eyes　that　vary　in　their　expression　from　the　set　smile　of　a　ballet…dancer　to　the　dark；　suspicious　scowl　of　a　discounter　of　bills；　in　short；　she　is　at　once　the　embodiment　and　interpretation　of　her　lodging…　house；　as　surely　as　her　lodging…house　implies　the　existence　of　its　mistress。　You　can　no　more　imagine　the　one　without　the　other；　than　you　can　think　of　a　jail　without　a　turnkey。　The　unwholesome　corpulence　of　the　little　woman　is　produced　by　the　life　she　leads；　just　as　typhus　fever　is　bred　in　the　tainted　air　of　a　hospital。　The　very　knitted　woolen　petticoat　that　she　wears　beneath　a　skirt　made　of　an　old　gown；　with　the　wadding　protruding　through　the　rents　in　the　material；　is　a　sort　of　epitome　of　the　sitting…room；　the　dining…room；　and　the　little　garden；　it　discovers　the　cook；　it　foreshadows　the　lodgersthe　picture　of　the　house　is　completed　by　the　portrait　of　its　mistress。

Mme。　Vauquer　at　the　age　of　fifty　is　like　all　women　who　〃have　seen　a　deal　of　trouble。〃　She　has　the　glassy　eyes　and　innocent　air　of　a　trafficker　in　flesh　and　blood；　who　will　wax　virtuously　indignant　to　obtain　a　higher　price　for　her　services；　but　who　is　quite　ready　to　betray　a　Georges　or　a　Pichegru；　if　a　Georges　or　a　Pichegru　were　in　hiding　and　still　to　be　betrayed；　or　for　any　other　expedient　that　may　alleviate　her　lot。　Still；　〃she　is　a　good　woman　at　bottom；〃　said　the　lodgers　who　believed　that　the　widow　was　wholly　dependent　upon　the　money　that　they　paid　her；　and　sympathized　when　they　heard　her　cough　and　groan　like　one　of　themselves。

What　had　M。　Vauquer　been？　The　lady　was　never　very　explicit　on　this　head。　How　had　she　lost　her　money？　〃Through　trouble；〃　was　her　answer。　He　had　treated　her　badly；　had　left　her　nothing　but　her　eyes　to　cry　over　his　cruelty；　the　house　she　lived　in；　and　the　privilege　of　pitying　nobody；　because；　so　she　was　wont　to　say；　she　herself　had　been　through　every　possible　misfortune。

Sylvie；　the　stout　cook；　hearing　her　mistress'　shuffling　footsteps；　hastened　to　serve　the　lodgers'　breakfasts。　Beside　those　who　lived　in　the　house；　Mme。　Vauquer　took　boarders　who　came　for　their　meals；　but　these　externes　usually　only　came　to　dinner；　for　which　they　paid　thirty　francs　a　month。

At　the　time　when　this　story　begins；　the　lodging…house　contained　seven　inmates。　The　best　rooms　in　the　house　were　on　the　first　story；　Mme。　Vauquer　herself　occupying　the　least　important；　while　the　rest　were　let　to　a　Mme。　Couture；　the　widow　of　a　commissary…　general　in　the　service　of　the　Republic。　With　her　lived　Victorine　Taillefer；　a　schoolgirl；　to　whom　she　filled　the　place　of　mother。　These　two　ladies　paid　eighteen　hundred　francs　a　year。

The　two　sets　of　rooms　on　the　second　floor　were　respectively　occupied　by　an　old　man　named　Poiret　and　a　man　of　forty　or　thereabouts；　the　wearer　of　a　black　wig　and　dyed　whiskers；　who　gave　out　that　he　was　a　retired　merchant；　and　was　addressed　as　M。　Vautrin。　Two　of　the　four　rooms　on　the　third　floor　were　also　let　one　to　an　elderly　spinster；　a　Mlle。　Michonneau；　and　the　other　to　a　retired　manufacturer　of　vermicelli；　Italian　paste　and　starch；　who　allowed　the　others　to　address　him　as　〃Father　Goriot。〃　The　remaining　rooms　were　allotted　to　various　birds　of　passage；　to　impecunious　students；　who　like　〃Father　Goriot〃　and　Mlle。　Michonneau；　could　only　muster　forty…five　francs　a　month　to　pay　for　their　board　and　lodging。　Mme。　Vauquer　had　little　desire　for　lodgers　of　this　sort；　they　ate　too　much　bread；　and　she　only　took　them　in　default　of　better。

At　that　time　one　of　the　rooms　was　tenanted　by　a　law　student；　a　young　man　from　the　neighborhood　of　Angouleme；　one　of　a　large　family　who　pinched　and　starved　themselves　to　spare　twelve　hundred　francs　a　year　for　him。　Misfortune　had　accustomed　Eugene　de　Rastignac；　for　that　was　his　name；　to　work。　He　belonged　to　the　number　of　young　men　who　know　as　children　that　their　parents'　hopes　are　centered　on　them；　and　deliberately　prepare　themselves　for　a　great　career；　subordinating　their　studies　from　the　first　to　this　end；　carefully　watching　the　indications　of　the　course　of　events；　calculating　the　probable　turn　that　affairs　will　take；　that　they　may　be　the　first　to　profit　by　them。　But　for　his　observant　curiosity；　and　the　skill　with　which　he　managed　to　introduce　himself　into　the　salons　of　Paris；　this　story　would　not　have　been　colored　by　the　tones　of　truth　which　it　certainly　owes　to　him；　for　they　are　entirely　due　to　his　penetrating　sagacity　and　desire　to　fathom　the　mysteries　of　an　appalling　condition　of　things；　which　was　concealed　as　carefully　by　the　victim　as　by　those　who　had　brought　it　to　pass。

Above　the　third　story　there　was　a　garret　where　the　linen　was　hung　to　dry；　and　a　couple　of　attics。　Christophe；　the　man…of…all…work；　slept　in　one；　and　Sylvie；　the　stout　cook；　in　the　other。　Beside　the　seven　inmates　thus　enumerated；　taking　one　year　with　another；　some　eight　law　or　medical　students　dined　in　the　house；　as　well　as　two　or　three　regular　comers　who　lived　in　the　neighborhood。　There　were　usually　eighteen　people　at　dinner；　and　there　was　room；　if　need　be；　for　twenty　at　Mme。　Vauquer's　table；　at　breakfast；　however；　only　the　seven　lodgers　appeared。　It　was　almost　like　a　family　party。　Every　one　came　down　in　dressing…gown　and　slippers；　and　the　conversation　usually　turned　on　anything　that　had　happened　the　evening　before；　comments　on　the　dress　or　appearance　of　the　dinner　contingent　were　exchanged　in　friendly　confidence。

These　seven　lodgers　were　Mme。　Vauquer's　spoiled　children。　Among　them　she　distributed；　with　astronomical　precision；　the　exact　proportion　of　respect　and　attention　due　to　the　varying　amounts　they　paid　for　their　board。　One　single　consideration　influenced　all　these　human　beings　thrown　together　by　chance。　The　two　second…　floor　lodgers　only　paid　seventy…two　francs　a　month。　Such　prices　as　these　are　confined　to　the　Faubourg　Saint…Marcel　and　the　district　between　La　Bourbe　and　the　Salpetriere；　and；　as　might　be　expected；　poverty；　more　or　less　apparent；　weighed　upon　them　all；　Mme。　Couture　being　the　sole　exception　to　the　rule。

The　dreary　surroundings　were　reflected　in　the　costumes　of　the　inmates　of　the　house；　all　were　alike　threadbare。　The　color　of　the　men's　coats　were　problematical；　such　shoes；　in　more　fashionable　quarters；　are　only　to　be　seen　lying　in　the　gutter；　the　cuffs　and　collars　were　worn　and　frayed　at　the　edges；　every　limp　article　of　clothing　looked　like　the　ghost　of　its　former　self。　The　women's　dresses　were　faded；　old…fashioned；　dyed　and　re…dyed；　they　wore　gloves　that　were　glazed　with　hard　wear；　much…mended　lace；　dingy　ruffles；　crumpled　muslin　fichus。　So　much　for　their　clothing；　but；　for　the　most　part；　their　frames　were　solid　enough；　their　constitutions　had　weathered　the　storms　of　life；　their　cold；　hard　faces　were　worn　like　coins　that　have　been　withdrawn　from　circulation；　but　there　were　greedy　teeth　behind　the　withered　lips。　Dramas　brought　to　a　close　or　still　in　progress　are　foreshadowed　by　the　sight　of　such　actors　as　these；　not　the　dramas　that　are　played　before　the　footlights　and　against　a　background　of　painted　canvas；　but　dumb　dramas　of　life；　frost…bound　dramas　that　sere　hearts　like　fire；　dramas　that　do　not　end　with　the　actors'　lives。

Mlle。　Michonneau；　that　elderly　young　lady；　screened　her　weak　eyes　from　the　daylight　by　a　soiled　green　silk　shade　with　a　rim　of　brass；　an　object　fit　to　scare　away　the　Angel　of　Pity　himself。　Her　shawl；　with　its　scanty；　draggled　fringe；　might　have　covered　a　skeleton；　so　meagre　and　angular　was　the　form　beneath　it。　Yet　she　must　have　been　pretty　and　shapely　once。　What　corrosive　had　destroyed　the　feminine　outlines？　Was　it　trouble；　or　vice；　or　greed？　Had　she　loved　too　well？　Had　she　been　a　second…hand　clothes　dealer；　a　frequenter　of　the　backstairs　of　great　houses；　or　had　she　been　merely　a　courtesan？　Was　she　expiating　the　flaunting　triumphs　of　a　youth　overcrowded　with　pleasures　by　an　old　age　in　which　she　was　shunned　by　every　passer…by？　Her　vacant　gaze　sent　a　chill　through　you；　her　shriveled　face　seemed　like　a　menace。　Her　voice　was　like　the　shrill；　thin　note　of　the　grasshopper　sounding　from　the　thicket　when　winter　is　at　hand。　She　said　that　she　had　nursed　an　old　gentleman；　ill　of　catarrh　of　the　bladder；　and　left　to　die　by　his　children；　who　thought　that　he　had　nothing　left。　His　bequest　to　her；　a　life　annuity　of　a　thousand　francs；　was　periodically　disputed　by　his　heirs；　who　mingled　slander　with　their　persecutions。　In　spite　of　the　ravages　of　conflicting　passions；　her　face　retained　some　traces　of　its　former　fairness　and　fineness　of　tissue；　some　vestiges　of　the　physical　charms　of　her　youth　still　survived。

M。　Poiret　was　a　sort　of　automaton。　He　might　be　seen　any　day　sailing　like　a　gray　shadow　along　the　walks　of　the　Jardin　des　Plantes；　on　his　head　a　shabby　cap；　a　cane　with　an　old　yellow　ivory　handle　in　the　tips　of　his　thin　fingers；　the　outspread　skirts　of　his　threadbare　overcoa