samual brohl & company(赛穆王·布洛公司)-第20节
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shilling by shilling； his meagre allowance。 She said to herself： 'So long as
he has nothing； he cannot escape。' She mistook； he did escape； and he was
so afraid of being retaken that for some time he hid like a criminal；
pursued by the police。 He fancied that this woman was always on his track。
It was then； for the first time； that he felt hunger； for they eat in the land of
Egypt。 He lived by all sorts of expedients； and cursed the poets。 One day
he learned that his father was dead； he hastened to the old tavern in order
to succeed to the inheritance。 He was not aware that for two years old
Jeremiah Brohl had been in his dotage； and that his debtors mocked him
while devouring his substance。 A fine inheritance！ it was diminished to
two or three rickety chairs； four cracked walls that scarcely could stand
upright； and some jewellery concealed in a hiding…place that Samuel knew
of。 Old Jeremiah never had been able to dispose of it for the price he
required； and he preferred to keep it rather than lower his charge。 He had
principles； which was well for Samuel； as the jewellery was useful to him。
He sold a necklace； and set out for Bucharest； some one having told him
that he certainly would make his fortune there。 He gave music…lessons；
this wearisome profession did not suit him； he could not endure the
constraint and the regular hours。 The boys plagued himhe would
willingly have wrung their necks； the girls treated him like a dog they
never thought of his being handsome； because they suspected him of being
a Jew。 Why had he gone to Bucharesta city where all Germans are Jews；
and where Jews are not considered men？ Although he had earned a little
money； he grew melancholy； and he began to think seriously of killing
himself。〃
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Count Abel Larinski leaned forward； plucked a spray of heather；
tickled his lips with it； and began to laugh； then； striking his breast； he said；
in an undertone； 〃Thank God； Samuel Brohl is not dead； for he is here！〃
He spoke the truth： Samuel Brohl was not dead； and life was of value
to him； since he had met Mlle。 Antoinette Moriaz in the cathedral in Chur。
It was Samuel Brohl who had come to Cormeilles； and who was seated； at
this moment； in the midst of a grove of oaks。 Perhaps the lark that he had
heard singing a quarter of an hour before had recognised him； for it had
ceased singing。 The peacock continued its screaming； and its doleful cries
sounded like a warning。 Yes； the man seated among the heather； employed
in narrating his own history to himself； was indeed Samuel Brohl； and the
proof of this was that he had laughed； while Count Abel Larinski never
laughed； moreover； for four years the latter had been out of the world。 The
second reason is； perhaps； the better。
He whom； with or without his consent； we shall call henceforth
Samuel Brohl； reproached himself for this access of levity； as he would
have reproached himself for a false note that had escaped him in executing
a Mozart sonata。 He resumed his grave； dignified air； in order to salute
with a wave of his hand the phantom that had just appeared before him。 It
was the same that he had summoned one evening at the Hotel Steinbock；
and treated there as an addle…brain； as a visionary； and even as an imbecile；
but this time he gave him a more indulgent and gracious reception。 He
bore him no ill…will； he wished him well； he was under essential
obligations to him； and Samuel Brohl was no ingrate。
〃Ah！ well； my poor friend； I am here；〃 he said； in that mute language
that phantoms understand。 〃I have taken your place； and almost your form；
I play your part in the great fair of this world； and； although your noble
body has rested for four years； six feet underground； thanks to me you still
live。 I always have had a most sincere admiration for you。 I considered
you a phenomenon； a prodigy。 You were courageous； devoted； generosity
itself； you esteemed honour above all the gold deposits in California； you
detested all coarse thoughts and doubtful actions； your mother had
nourished you in all sublime follies。 You were a true chevalier； a true Pole；
the last Don Quixote in this age of sceptics； plunderers； and interlopers。
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Blessed be the chance that made us acquainted！ You lived retired； solitary；
unknown； in a miserable hovel just outside of Bucharest。 So goes the
world！ You were in hidingyou who had nothing to hide from either God
or man you who deserved a crown。 Alas！ the Russian Government had
the poor taste not to appreciate your exploits； and you feared that it would
claim and obtain your extradition。 At our first meeting I pleased you； and
you took me into your friendship； I spoke Polish； and you loved music。 I
became your intimate friend； your sole companion； your confidant。 You
must grant that you owe to me the last happy moments of your short
existence。 I soon knew your origin； the history of your youth； of your
enterprises； and of your misfortunes。 You initiated me into the secret of the
great invention that you had just made； you explained to me in detail the
mechanism of your famous gun。 I was intelligent； I understood； or thought
I understood。 This gun； you said； would one day make my fortune； for； on
your own account； you had renounced all hope； you had heart…disease； and
you knew that you were condemned to a speedy end。 My imagination was
kindled。 Through my entreaty you decided to leave with me for Vienna。
This expedition was fatal to you； but I swear to you I did not foresee it。〃
Samuel crossed his hands on his knee； then he continued： 〃May my
tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth； may my blood cease to flow in my
veins； may the marrow dry up in my bones； if ever I forget to be grateful
for what I owe to you； Abel Larinski； or cease to remember the forlorn
hovel in which we passed the first night of our journey！ You were attacked
by suffocation。 You had only time to call and wake me。 I hastened to you。
You gave me； in a dying voice； your last instructions。 You delivered into
my hands your last fifty florins； which were as acceptable as an orange
would have been to the shipwrecked passengers of the Medusa。 Then you
pointed with your finger to a box； in which were inclosed family relics；
letters； your journal； and papers。 You said： 'Destroy all that； Poland is dead；
let no one remember that I have lived！' After that you breathed your last。
Well！ I confess that I did not fulfil your orders。 I kept your mother's
portrait； the papers； all； and； in announcing your decease to the police； I
made them believe that the man who was dead was named Samuel Brohl；
and that Count Larinski still lived。 What would you have me do？ The
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temptation was too great。 Samuel Brohl had disgraceful antecedents； he
was base…born； he had been sold； there was a stain on his past that never
could be wiped away； and； as he had had the misfortune to read the poets；
it had come about that he often despised himself。 It was； indeed； time that
he should be thrown into the shade； and my joy was extreme to know that
he was dead； and to feel that I was alive。 As soon as I succeeded in
persuading myself that I was indeed Count Abel Larinski； I was as happy
as a child whose parents have dressed him in new clothes； and who struts
about to show them。 With your name I acquired a noble past； in thought； I
roamed through it with delight； I visited its every nook and corner； as a
poor devil would make the circuit of a park that he has just come to inherit。
You bequeathed me your relations； your adventures； your exploits。 When
you fought for your country； I was there； when you received a gun…shot…
wound near Dubrod； it was into my flesh that the bullet penetrated。 Of
what do you complain？ Between friends is not everything in common？ I
le
