stories by english authors in france(旅法英国作家的故事)-第6节
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farthing； why； of course； I remain the same。〃
〃The grace of God is all powerful。〃
〃I should be a heretic to question it；〃 said Francis。 〃It has made you
lord of Brisetout and bailie of the Patatrac； it has given me nothing but the
quick wits under my hat and these ten toes upon my hands。 May I help
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myself to wine？ I thank you respectfully。 By God's grace； you have a very
superior vintage。〃
The lord of Brisetout walked to and fro with his hands behind his back。
Perhaps he was not yet quite settled in his mind about the parallel between
thieves and soldiers； perhaps Villon had interested him by some cross…
thread of sympathy； perhaps his wits were simply muddled by so much
unfamiliar reasoning； but whatever the cause； he somehow yearned to
convert the young man to a better way of thinking； and could not make up
his mind to drive him forth again into the street。
〃There is something more than I can understand in this；〃 he said at
length。 〃Your mouth is full of subtleties； and the devil has led you very far
astray； but the devil is only a very weak spirit before God's truth； and all
his subtleties vanish at a word of true honour； like darkness at morning。
Listen to me once more。 I learned long ago that a gentleman should live
chivalrously and lovingly to God and the king and his lady； and though I
have seen many strange things done； I have still striven to command my
ways upon that rule。 It is not only written in all noble histories； but in
every man's heart； if he will take care to read。 You speak of food and wine；
and I know very well that hunger is a difficult trial to endure； but you do
not speak of other wants； you say nothing of honour； of faith to God and
other men； of courtesy； of love without reproach。 It may be that I am not
very wise；and yet I think I am；but you seem to me like one who has
lost his way and made a great error in life。 You are attending to the little
wants； and you have totally forgotten the great and only real ones； like a
man who should be doctoring toothache on the judgment day。 For such
things as honour and love and faith are not only nobler than food and drink；
but indeed I think we desire them more； and suffer more sharply for their
absence。 I speak to you as I think you will most easily understand me。 Are
you not； while careful to fill your belly； disregarding another appetite in
your heart； which spoils the pleasure of your life and keeps you
continually wretched？〃
Villon was sensibly nettled under all this sermonising。 〃You think I
have no sense of honour！〃 he cried。 〃I'm poor enough； God knows！ It's
hard to see rich people with their gloves； and you blowing in your hands。
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An empty belly is a bitter thing； although you speak so lightly of it。 If you
had had as many as I； perhaps you would change your tune。 Anyway； I'm a
thief；make the most of that；but I'm not a devil from hell； God strike me
dead！ I would have you to know I've an honour of my own； as good as
yours； though I don't prate about it all day long； as if it was a God's
miracle to have any。 It seems quite natural to me； I keep it in its box till it's
wanted。 Why； now； look you here； how long have I been in this room with
you？ Did you not tell me you were alone in the house？ Look at your gold
plate！ You're strong； if you like； but you're old and unarmed； and I have
my knife。 What did I want but a jerk of the elbow and here would have
been you with the cold steel in your bowels； and there would have been
me； linking in the streets； with an armful of golden cups！ Did you suppose
I hadn't wit enough to see that？ and I scorned the action。 There are your
damned goblets； as safe as in a church； there are you； with your heart
ticking as good as new； and here am I； ready to go out again as poor as I
came in； with my one white that you threw in my teeth！ And you think I
have no sense of honourGod strike me dead！〃
The old man stretched out his right arm。 〃I will tell you what you are；〃
he said。 〃You are a rogue； my man； an impudent and black…hearted rogue
and vagabond。 I have passed an hour with you。 Oh； believe me； I feel
myself disgraced！ And you have eaten and drunk at my table。 But now I
am sick at your presence； the day has come； and the night…bird should be
off to his roost。 Will you go before； or after？〃
〃Which you please；〃 returned the poet； rising。 〃I believe you to be
strictly honourable。〃 He thoughtfully emptied his cup。 〃I wish I could add
you were intelligent；〃 he went on； knocking on his head with his knuckles。
〃Age！ age！ the brains stiff and rheumatic。〃
The old man preceded him from a point of self…respect； Villon
followed； whistling； with his thumbs in his girdle。
〃God pity you；〃 said the lord of Brisetout at the door。
〃Good…bye； papa；〃 returned Villon； with a yawn。 〃Many thanks for the
cold mutton。〃
The door closed behind him。 The dawn was breaking over the white
roofs。 A chill； uncomfortable morning ushered in the day。 Villon stood and
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heartily stretched himself in the middle of the road。
〃A very dull old gentleman；〃 he thought。 〃I wonder what his goblets
may be worth？〃
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A LEAF IN THE STORM
BY OUIDA
The Berceau de Dieu was a little village in the valley of the Seine。 As
a lark drops its nest among the grasses； so a few peasant people had
dropped their little farms and cottages amid the great green woods on the
winding river。 It was a pretty place； with one steep； stony street； shady
with poplars and with elms； quaint houses； about whose thatch a cloud of
white and gray pigeons fluttered all day long； a little aged chapel with a
conical red roof； and great barns covered with ivy and thick creepers； red
and purple； and lichens that were yellow in the sun。 All around it were the
broad； flowering meadows； with the sleek cattle of Normandy fattening in
them； and the sweet dim forests where the young men and maidens went
on every holy day and feast…day in the summer…time to seek for wood…
anemones； and lilies of the pools； and the wild campanula； and the fresh
dog…rose； and all the boughs and grasses that made their house…doors like
garden bowers； and seemed to take the cushat's note and the linnet's song
into their little temple of God。
The Berceau de Dieu was very old indeed。 Men said that the hamlet
had been there in the day of the Virgin of Orleans； and a stone cross of the
twelfth century still stood by the great pond of water at the bottom of the
street under the chestnut…tree； where the villagers gathered to gossip at
sunset when their work was done。 It had no city near it； and no town
nearer than four leagues。 It was in the green care of a pastoral district；
thickly wooded and intersected with orchards。 Its produce of wheat and
oats and cheese and fruit and eggs was more than sufficient for its simple
prosperity。 Its people were hardy； kindly； laborious； happy； living round
the little gray chapel in amity and good…fellowship。 Nothing troubled it。
War and rumours of war； revolutions and counter…revolutions； empires and
insurrections； military and political questionsthese all were for it things
unknown and unheard of； mighty winds that arose and blew and swept the
lands around it； but never came near enough to harm it； lying there； as it
did in its loneliness like any lark's nest。 Even in the great days of the
Revolution it had been quiet。 It had had a lord whom it loved in the old
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castle on the hill at whose feet it nestled； it had never tried to harm him；
and it had wept bitterly when he had fallen at Jemmapes； and left no heir；
and the chateau had crumbled into
