the magic skin(驴皮记)-第11章

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like　diamonds；　suddenly　met　the　stupefied　stare　of　the　revelers。　Their
toilettes　were　splendid；　but　less　magnificent　than　their　beauty；　which
eclipsed　the　other　marvels　of　this　palace。　A　light　shone　from　their
eyes；　bewitching　as　those　of　sirens；　more　brilliant　and　ardent　than
the　blaze　that　streamed　down　upon　the　snowy　marble；　the　delicately
carved　surfaces　of　bronze；　and　lit　up　the　satin　sheen　of　the　tapestry。
The　contrasts　of　their　attitudes　and　the　slight　movements　of　their
heads；　each　differing　in　character　and　nature　of　attraction；　set　the
heart　afire。　It　was　like　a　thicket；　where　blossoms　mingled　with
rubies；　sapphires；　and　coral；　a　combination　of　gossamer　scarves　that
flickered　like　beacon…lights；　of　black　ribbons　about　snowy　throats；　of
gorgeous　turbans　and　demurely　enticing　apparel。　It　was　a　seraglio　that
appealed　to　every　eye；　and　fulfilled　every　fancy。　Each　form　posed　to
admiration　was　scarcely　concealed　by　the　folds　of　cashmere；　and　half
hidden；　half　revealed　by　transparent　gauze　and　diaphanous　silk。　The
little　slender　feet　were　eloquent；　though　the　fresh　red　lips　uttered
no　sound。

Demure　and　fragile…looking　girls；　pictures　of　maidenly　innocence；　with
a　semblance　of　conventional　unction　about　their　heads；　were　there　like
apparitions　that　a　breath　might　dissipate。　Aristocratic　beauties　with
haughty　glances；　languid；　flexible；　slender；　and　complaisant；　bent
their　heads　as　though　there　were　royal　protectors　still　in　the　market。
An　English…woman　seemed　like　a　spirit　of　melancholysome　coy；　pale；
shadowy　form　among　Ossian's　mists；　or　a　type　of　remorse　flying　from
crime。　The　Parisienne　was　not　wanting　in　all　her　beauty　that　consists
in　an　indescribable　charm；　armed　with　her　irresistible　weakness；　vain
of　her　costume　and　her　wit；　pliant　and　hard；　a　heartless；　passionless
siren　that　yet　can　create　factitious　treasures　of　passion　and
counterfeit　emotion。

Italians　shone　in　the　throng；　serene　and　self…possessed　in　their
bliss；　handsome　Normans；　with　splendid　figures；　women　of　the　south；
with　black　hair　and　well…shaped　eyes。　Lebel　might　have　summoned
together　all　the　fair　women　of　Versailles；　who　since　morning　had
perfected　all　their　wiles；　and　now　came　like　a　troupe　of　Oriental
women；　bidden　by　the　slave　merchant　to　be　ready　to　set　out　at　dawn。
They　stood　disconcerted　and　confused　about　the　table；　huddled　together
in　a　murmuring　group　like　bees　in　a　hive。　The　combination　of　timid
embarrassment　with　coquettishness　and　a　sort　of　expostulation　was　the
result　either　of　calculated　effect　or　a　spontaneous　modesty。　Perhaps　a
sentiment　of　which　women　are　never　utterly　divested　prescribed　to　them
the　cloak　of　modesty　to　heighten　and　enhance　the　charms　of　wantonness。
So　the　venerable　Taillefer's　designs　seemed　on　the　point　of　collapse；
for　these　unbridled　natures　were　subdued　from　the　very　first　by　the
majesty　with　which　woman　is　invested。　There　was　a　murmur　of
admiration；　which　vibrated　like　a　soft　musical　note。　Wine　had　not
taken　love　for　traveling　companion；　instead　of　a　violent　tumult　of
passions；　the　guests　thus　taken　by　surprise；　in　a　moment　of　weakness；
gave　themselves　up　to　luxurious　raptures　of　delight。

Artists　obeyed　the　voice　of　poetry　which　constrains　them；　and　studied
with　pleasure　the　different　delicate　tints　of　these　chosen　examples　of
beauty。　Sobered　by　a　thought　perhaps　due　to　some　emanation　from　a
bubble　of　carbonic　acid　in　the　champagne；　a　philosopher　shuddered　at
the　misfortunes　which　had　brought　these　women；　once　perhaps　worthy　of
the　truest　devotion；　to　this。　Each　one　doubtless　could　have　unfolded　a
cruel　tragedy。　Infernal　tortures　followed　in　the　train　of　most　of
them；　and　they　drew　after　them　faithless　men；　broken　vows；　and
pleasures　atoned　for　in　wretchedness。　Polite　advances　were　made　by　the
guests；　and　conversations　began；　as　varied　in　character　as　the
speakers。　They　broke　up　into　groups。　It　might　have　been　a　fashionable
drawing…room　where　ladies　and　young　girls　offer　after　dinner　the
assistance　that　coffee；　liqueurs；　and　sugar　afford　to　diners　who　are
struggling　in　the　toils　of　a　perverse　digestion。　But　in　a　little　while
laughter　broke　out；　the　murmur　grew；　and　voices　were　raised。　The
saturnalia；　subdued　for　a　moment；　threatened　at　times　to　renew　itself。
The　alternations　of　sound　and　silence　bore　a　distant　resemblance　to　a
symphony　of　Beethoven's。

The　two　friends；　seated　on　a　silken　divan；　were　first　approached　by　a
tall；　well…proportioned　girl　of　stately　bearing；　her　features　were
irregular；　but　her　face　was　striking　and　vehement　in　expression；　and
impressed　the　mind　by　the　vigor　of　its　contrasts。　Her　dark　hair　fell
in　luxuriant　curls；　with　which　some　hand　seemed　to　have　played　havoc
already；　for　the　locks　fell　lightly　over　the　splendid　shoulders　that
thus　attracted　attention。　The　long　brown　curls　half　hid　her　queenly
throat；　though　where　the　light　fell　upon　it；　the　delicacy　of　its　fine
outlines　was　revealed。　Her　warm　and　vivid　coloring　was　set　off　by　the
dead　white　of　her　complexion。　Bold　and　ardent　glances　came　from　under
the　long　eyelashes；　the　damp；　red；　half…open　lips　challenged　a　kiss。
Her　frame　was　strong　but　compliant；　with　a　bust　and　arms　strongly
developed；　as　in　figures　drawn　by　the　Caracci；　she　yet　seemed　active
and　elastic；　with　a　panther's　strength　and　suppleness；　and　in　the　same
way　the　energetic　grace　of　her　figure　suggested　fierce　pleasures。

But　though　she　might　romp　perhaps　and　laugh；　there　was　something
terrible　in　her　eyes　and　her　smile。　Like　a　pythoness　possessed　by　the
demon；　she　inspired　awe　rather　than　pleasure。　All　changes；　one　after
another；　flashed　like　lightning　over　every　mobile　feature　of　her　face。
She　might　captivate　a　jaded　fancy；　but　a　young　man　would　have　feared
her。　She　was　like　some　colossal　statue　fallen　from　the　height　of　a
Greek　temple；　so　grand　when　seen　afar；　too　roughly　hewn　to　be　seen
anear。　And　yet；　in　spite　of　all；　her　terrible　beauty　could　have
stimulated　exhaustion；　her　voice　might　charm　the　deaf；　her　glances
might　put　life　into　the　bones　of　the　dead；　and　therefore　Emile　was
vaguely　reminded　of　one　of　Shakespeare's　tragediesa　wonderful　maze；
in　which　joy　groans；　and　there　is　something　wild　even　about　love；　and
the　magic　of　forgiveness　and　the　warmth　of　happiness　succeed　to　cruel
storms　of　rage。　She　was　a　siren　that　can　both　kiss　and　devour；　laugh
like　a　devil；　or　weep　as　angels　can。　She　could　concentrate　in　one
instant　all　a　woman's　powers　of　attraction　in　a　single　effort　（the
sighs　of　melancholy　and　the　charms　of　maiden's　shyness　alone
excepted）；　then　in　a　moment　rise　in　fury　like　a　nation　in　revolt；　and
tear　herself；　her　passion；　and　her　lover；　in　pieces。

Dressed　in　red　velvet；　she　trampled　under　her　reckless　feet　the　stray
flowers　fallen　from　other　heads；　and　held　out　a　salver　to　the　two
friends；　with　careless　hands。　The　white　arms　stood　out　in　bold　relief
against　the　velvet。　Proud　of　her　beauty；　proud　（who　knows？）　of　her
corruption；　she　stood　like　a　queen　of　pleasure；　like　an　incarnation　of
enjoyment；　the　enjoyment　that　comes　of　squandering　the　accumulations
of　three　generations；　that　scoffs　at　its　progenitors；　and　makes　merry
over　a　corpse；　that　will　dissolve　pearls　and　wreck　thrones；　turn　old
men　into　boys；　and　make　young　men　prematurely　old；　enjoyment　only
possible　to　giants　weary　of　their　power；　tormented　by　reflection；　or
for　whom　strife　has　become　a　plaything。

〃What　is　your　name？〃　asked　Raphael。

〃Aquilina。〃

〃Out　of　Venice　Preserved！〃　exclaimed　Emile。

〃Yes；〃　she　answered。　〃Just　as　a　pope　takes　a　new　name　when　he　is
exalted　above　all　other　men；　I；　too；　took　another　name　when　I　raised
myself　above　women's　level。〃

〃Then　have　you；　like　your　patron　saint；　a　terrible　and　noble　lover；　a
conspirator；　who　would　die　for　you？〃　cried　Emile　eagerlythis　gleam
of　poetry　had　aroused　his　interest。

〃Once　I　had；〃　she　answered。　〃But　I　had　a　rival　too　in　La　Guillotine。　I
have　worn　something　red　about　me　ever　since；　lest　any　happiness　should
carry　me　away。〃

〃Oh；　if　you　are　going　to　get　her　on　to　the　story　of　those　four　lads　of
La　Rochelle；　she　will　never　get　to　the　end　of　it。　That's　enough；
Aquilina。　As　if　every　woman　could　not　bewail　some　lover　or　other；
though　not　every　one　has　the　luck　to　lose　him　on　the　scaffold；　as　you
have　done。　I　would　a　great　deal　sooner　see　a　lover　of　mine　in　a　trench
at　the　back　of　Clamart　than　in　a　rival's　arms。〃

All　this　in　the　gentlest　and　most　melodious　accents；　and　pronounced　by
the　prettiest；　gentlest；　and　most　innocent…looking　little　person　that
a　fairy　wand　ever　drew　from　an　enchanted　eggshell。　She　had　come　up
noiselessly；　and　they　became　aware　of　a　slender；　dainty　figure；
charmingly　timid　blue　eyes；　and　white　transparent　brows。　No　ingenue
among　the　naiads；　a　truant　from　her　river　spring；　could　have　been
shyer；　whiter；　more　ingenuous　than　this　young　girl；　seemingly　about
sixteen　years　old；　ignorant　of　evil　and　of　the　storms　of　life；　and
fresh　from　some　church　in　which　she　must　have　prayed　the　angels　to
call　her　to　heaven　before　the　time。　Only　in　Paris　are　such　natures　as
this　to　be　found；　concealing　depths　of　depravity　behind　a　fair　mask；
and　the　most　artificial　vices　beneath　a　brow　as　young　and　fair　as　an
opening　flower。

At　first　the　angelic　promise　of　those　soft　lineaments　misled　the
friends。　Raphael　and　Emile　took　the　coffee　which　she　poured　into　the
cups　brought　by　Aquilina；　and　began　to　talk　with　her。　In　the　eyes　of
the　two　poets　she　soon　became　transformed　into　some　sombre　allegory；
of　I　know　not　what　aspect　of　human　life。　She　opposed　to　the　vigorous
and　ardent　expression　of　her　commanding　acquaintance　a　revelation　of
heartless　corruption　and　voluptuous　cruelty。　Heedless　enough　to
perpetrate　a　crime；　hardy　enough　to　feel　no　misgivings；　a　pitiless
demon　that　wrings　larger　and　kinder　natures　with　torments　that　it　is
incapable　of　knowing；　that　simpers　over　a　traffic　in　love；　sheds　tears
over　a　victim's　funeral；　and　beams　with　joy　over　the　reading　of　the
will。　A　poet　might　have　admired　the　magnificent　Aquilina；　but　the
winning　Euphrasia　must　be　repulsive　to　every　onethe　first　was　the
soul　of　sin；　the　second；　sin　without　a　soul　in　it。

〃I　should　dearly　like　to　know；〃　Emile　remarked　to　this　pleasing　being；
〃if　you　ever　reflect　upon　your　future？〃

〃My　future！〃　she　answered　with　a　laugh。　〃What　do　you　mean　by　my
future？　Why　should　I　think　about　something　that　does　not　exist　as　yet？
I　never　look　before　or　behind。　Isn't　one　day　at　a　time　more　than　I　can
concern　myself　with　as　it　is？　And　besides；　the　future；　as　we　know；
means　the　hospital。〃

〃How　can　you　forsee　a　future　in　the　hospital；　and　make　no　effort　to
avert　it？〃

〃What　is　there　so　alarming　about　the　hospital？〃　asked　the　terrific
Aquilina。　〃When　we　are　neither　wives　nor　mothers；　when　old　age　draws
black　stockings　over　our　limbs；　sets　wrinkles　on　our　brows；　withers　up
the　woman　in　us；　and　darkens　the　light　in　our　lover's　eyes；　what　could
we　need　when　that　comes　to　pass？　You　would　look　on　us　then　as　mere
human　clay；　we　with　our　habiliments　shall　be　for　you　like　so　much　mud
worthless；　lifeless；　crumbling　to　pieces；　going　about　with　the
rustle　of　dead　leaves。　Rags　or　the　daintiest　finery　will　be　as　one　to
us　t