the crime of sylvestre bonnard-第35节
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e too… authentic box of Pandora。
〃Doctor； what an excellent common…sense story the story of Pandora is！if I were a poet I would put it into French verse。 Shake hands； doctor！ You have brought me back to life； I forgive you for it。 You have given me back to my friends； I thank you for it。 You say I am quite strong。 That may be； that may be； but I have lasted a very long time。 I am a very old article of furniture； I might be very satisfactorily compared to my father's arm…chair。 It was an arm… chair which the good man had inherited； and in which he used to lounge from morning until evening。 Twenty times a day； when I was quite a baby； I used to climb up and seat myself on one of the arms of that old…fashioned chair。 So long as the chair remained intact； nobody paid any particular attention to it。 But it began to limp on one foot and then folks began to say that it was a very good chair。 Afterwards it became lame in three legs； squeaked with the fourth leg； and lost nearly half of both arms。 Then everybody would exclaim； 'What a strong chair！' They wondered how it was that after its arms had been worn off and all its legs knocked out of perpendicular； it could yet preserve the recognisable shape of a chair； remains nearly erect； and still be of some service。 The horse…hair came out of its body at last； and it gave up the ghost。 And when Cyprien； our servant； sawed up its mutilated members for fire…wood； everybody redoubled their cries of admiration。 Oh！ what an excellentwhat a marvellous chair！ It was the chair of Pierre Sylvestre Bonnard； the cloth merchantof Epimenide Bonnard； his sonof Jean…Baptiste Bonnard； the Pyrrhonian philosopher and Chief of the Third Maritime Division。 Oh！ what a robust and venerable chair！' In reality it was a dead chair。 Well； doctor； I am that chair。 You think I am solid because I have been able to resist an attack which would have killed many people； and which only three… fourths killed me。 Much obliged！ I feel none the less that I am something which has been irremediably damaged。〃
The doctor tries to prove to me； with the help of enormous Greek and Latin words； that I am really in a very good condition。 It would； of course； be useless to attempt any demonstration of this kind in so lucid a language as French。 However； I allow him to persuade me at last； and I see him to the door。
〃Good！ good！〃 exclaimed Therese； 〃that is the way to put the doctor out of the house！ Just do the same thing once or twice again； and he will not come to see you any moreand so much the better？〃
〃Well； Therese； now that I have become such a hearty man again； do not refuse to give me my letters。 I am sure there must be quite a big bundle of letters； and it would be very wicked to keep me any longer from reading them。〃
Therese； after some little grumbling； gave me my letters。 But what did it matter？I looked at all the envelopes； and saw that no one of them had been addressed by the little hand which I so much wish I could see here now； turning over the pages of the Vecellio。 I pushed the whole bundle of letters away： they had no more interest for me。
April…June
It was a hotly contested engagement。
〃Wait； Monsieur； until I have put on my clean things；〃 exclaimed Therese； 〃and I will go out with you this time also； I will carry your folding…stool as I have been doing these last few days； and we will go and sit down somewhere in the sun。〃
Therese actually thinks me infirm。 I have been sick； it is true； but there is an end to all things！ Madame Malady has taken her departure quite awhile ago； and it is now more than three months since her pale and gracious…visaged handmaid； Dame Convalescence； politely bade me farewell。 If I were to listen to my housekeeper； I should become a veritable Monsieur Argant； and I should wear a nightcap with ribbons for the rest of my life。。。。 No more of this！ I propose to go out by myself！ Therese will not hear of it。 She takes my folding…stool； and wants to follow me。
〃Therese； to…morrow； if you like； we will take our seats on the sunny side of the wall of La Petite Provence and stay there just as long as you please。 But to…day I have some very important affairs to attend to。〃
〃So much the better！ But your affairs are not the only affairs in this world。〃
I beg； I scold； I make my escape。
It is quite a pleasant day。 With the aid of a cab and the help of almighty God； I trust to be able to fulfil my purpose。
There is the wall on which is painted in great blue letters the words 〃Pensionnat de Demoiselles tenu par Mademoiselle Virginie Prefere。〃 There is the iron gate which would give free entrance into the court…yard if it were ever opened。 But the lock is rusty； and sheets of zinc put up behind the bars protect the indiscreet observation those dear little souls to whom Mademoiselle Prefere doubtless teaches modesty； sincerity； justice； and disinterestedness。 There is a window； with iron bars before it； and panes daubed over with white paintthe window of the domestic offices； like a glazed eyethe only aperture of the building opening upon the exterior world。 As for the house…door； through which I entered so often； but which is now closed against me for ever； it is just as I saw it the last time； with its little iron…grated wicket。 The single stone step in front of it is deeply worn； and； without having very good eyes behind my spectacles； I can see the little white scratches on the stone which have been made by the nails in the shoes of the girls going in and out。 And why cannot I also go in？ I have a feeling that Jeanne must be suffering a great deal in this dismal house； and that she calls my name in secret。 I cannot go away from the gate！ A strange anxiety takes hold of me。 I pull the bell。 The scared…looking servant comes to the door； even more scared… looking than when I saw her the last time。 Strict orders have been given； I am not to be allowed to see Mademoiselle Jeanne。 I beg the servant to be so kind as to tell me how the child is。 The servant； after looking to her right and then to her left； tells me that Mademoiselle Jeanne is well； and then shuts the door in my face。 And I am all alone in the street again。
How many times since then have I wandered in the same way under that wall； and passed before the little door；full of shame and despair to find myself even weaker than that poor child； who has no other help of friend except myself in the world！
Finally I overcame my repugnance sufficiently to call upon Maitre Mouche。 The first thing I remarked was that his office is much more dusty and much more mouldy this year that it was last year。 The notary made his appearance after a moment； with his familiar stiff gestures； and his restless eyes quivering behind his eye…glasses。 I made my complaints to him。 He answered me。。。。 But why should I write down； even in a notebook which I am going to burn； my recollections of a downright scoundrel？ He takes sides with Mademoiselle Prefere； whose intelligent mind and irreproachable character he has long appreciated。 He does not feel himself in a position to decide the nature of the question at issue； but he must assure me that appearances have been greatly against me。 That of course makes no difference to me。 He adds（and this does make some sense to me）that the small sum which had been placed in his hands to defray the expenses of the education of his ward has been expended； and that； in view of the circumstances； he cannot but gently admire the disinterestedness of Mademoiselle Prefere in consenting to allow Mademoiselle Jeanne to remain with her。
A magnificent light； the light of a perfect day； floods the sordid place with its incorruptible torrent； and illuminates teh person of that man！
And outside it pours down its splendour upon all the wretchedness of a populous quarter。
How sweet it is；this light with which my eyes have so long been filled； and which ere long I must for ever cease to enjoy！ I wander out with my hands behind me； dreaming as I go； following the line of the fortifications； and I find myself after awhile； I know not how； in an out…of…the…way suburb full of miserable little gardens。 By the dusty roadside I observe a plant whose flower； at once dark and splendid； seems worthy of association with the noblest and purest mouning for the dead。 It is a columbine。 Our fathers called it 〃Our Lady's Glove〃le gant de Notre…Dame。 Only such a 〃Notre…Dame〃 as might make herself very； very small； for the sake of appearing to little children； could ever slip her dainty fingers into the narrow capsue of that flower。
And there is a big bumble…bee who tries to force himself into the flower； brutally； but his mouth cannot reach the nectar； and the poor glutton strives and strives in vain。 He has to give up the attempt； and comes out of the flower all smeared over with pollen。 He flies off in his own heavy lumbering way； but there are not many flowers in this portion of the suburbs； which has been defiled by the soot and smoke of factories。 So he comes back to the columbine again； and this time he pierces the corolla and sucks the honey through the little hole which he has made； I should never have thought that a bumble…bee had so much sense
