the crime of sylvestre bonnard(西维斯特·博拉德的罪行)-第49节
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devise some means of keeping that young man away from her； you really
ought。。。。 Eh！ how am I to know what I am to do？。。。
I have picked up a book at random from the nearest shelf； I open it；
and I enter respectfully into the middle of a drama of Sophocles。 the older
I grow； the more I learn to love the two civilisations of the antique world；
and now I always keep the poets of Italy and of Greece on a shelf within
easy reach of my arm in the City of Books。
Monsieur and Mademoiselle finally condescend to take some notice of
me； now that I seem too busy to take any notice of them。 I really think that
Mademoiselle Jeanne has even asked me what I am reading。 No； indeed； I
will not tell her what it is。 what I am reading； between ourselves； is the
change of that smooth and luminous Chorus which rolls out its
magnificent tunefulness through a scene of passionate violencethe
Chorus of the Old Men of Thebes'Erws avixate。。。' 〃Invincible Love； O
thou who descendest upon rich houses；Thou who dost rest upon the
delicate cheek of the maiden； Thou who dost traverse all seas；surely
none among the Immortals can escape Thee； nor indeed any among men
who live but for a little space； and he who is possessed by Thee； there is a
madness upon him。〃 And when I had re…read that delicious chant； the face
of Antigone appeared before me in all its passionless purity。 What images！
Gods and goddesses who hover in the highest heights of Heaven！ The
blind old man； the long…wandering beggar…king； led by Antigone； has now
been buried with holy rites； and his daughter； fair as the fairest dream ever
conceived by human soul； resists the will of the tyrant and gives pious
sepulture to her brother。 She loves the son of the tyrant； and that son loves
her also。 And as she goes on her way to execution； the victim of her own
sweet piety； the old men sing； 〃Invincible Love； O Thou who dost descend
upon rich houses； Thou who dost rest upon the delicate cheek of the
maiden。〃。。。
〃Mademoiselle Jeanne； are you really very anxious to know what I am
reading？ I am reading； MademoiselleI am reading that Antigone； having
buried the blind old man； wove a fair tapestry embroidered with images in
the likeness of laughing faces。〃
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
〃Ah！〃 said Gelis； as he burs out laughing 〃that is not in the text。〃
〃It is a scholium；〃 I said。
〃Unpublished；〃 he added； getting up。
I am not an egotist。 But I am prudent。 I have to bring up this child；
she is much too young to be married now。 No！ I am not an egotist； but I
must certainly keep her with me for a few years more keep her alone
with me。 She can surely wait until I am dead！ Fear not； Antigone； old
Oedipus will find holy burial soon enough。
In the meanwhile； Antigone is helping our housekeeper to scrape the
carrots。 She says she like to do itthat it is in her line； being related to the
art of sculpture。
May。
Who would recognise the City of Books now？ There are flowers
everywhereeven upon all the articles of furniture。 Jeanne was right： those
roses do look very nice in that blue china vase。 She goes to market every
day with Therese； under the pretext of helping the old servant to make her
purchases； but she never brings anything back with her except flowers。
Flowers are really very charming creatures。 And one of these days； I must
certainly carry out my plan； and devote myself to the study of them； in
their own natural domain； in the countrywith all the science and
earnestness which I possess。
For what have I to do here？ Why should I burn my eyes out over these
old parchments which cannot now tell me anything worth knowing？ I used
to study them； these old texts； with the most ardent enjoyment。 What was
it which I was then so anxious to find in them？ The date of a pious
foundationthe name of some monkish imagier or copyist the price of a
loaf； of an ox； or of a fieldsome judicial or administrative enactmentall
that； and yet something more； a Something vaguely mysterious and
sublime which excited my enthusiasm。 But for sixty years I have been
searching in vain for that Something。 Better men than Ithe masters； the
truly great； the Fauriels； the Thierrys； who found so many thingsdied at
their task without having been able； any more than I have been； to find that
Something which； being incorporeal； has no name； and without which；
nevertheless； no great mental work would ever be undertaken in this world。
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
And now that I am only looking for what I should certainly be able to find；
I cannot find anything at all； and it is probable that I shall never be able to
finish the history of the Abbots of Saint…Germain…des… Pres。
〃Guardian； just guess what I have in my handkerchief；〃
〃Judging from appearances； Jeanne； I should say flowers。〃
〃Oh； nonot flowers。 Look！〃
I look； and I see a little grey head poking itself out of the handkerchief。
It is the head of a little grey cat。 The handkerchief opens； the animal leaps
down upon the carpet； shakes itself； pricks up first one ear and then the
other； and begins to examine with due caution the locality and the
inhabitants thereof。
Therese； out of breath； with her basket on her arm； suddenly makes her
appearance in time to take an objective part in this examination； which
does not appear to result altogether in her favour； for the young cat moves
slowly away from her； without； however； venturing near my legs； or
approaching Jeanne； who displays extraordinary volubility in the use of
caressing appellations。 Therese； whose chief fault is her inability to hide
her feelings； thereupon vehemently reproaches Mademoiselle for bringing
home a cat that she did not know anything about。 Jeanne； in order to
justify herself； tells the whole story。 While she was passing with Therese
before a chemist's shop； she saw the assistant kick a little cat into the street。
The cat； astonished and frightened； seemed to be asking itself whether to
remain in the street where it was being terrified and knocked about by the
people passing by； or whether to go back into the chemist's even at the risk
of being kicked out a second time。 Jeanne thought it was in a very critical
position； and understood its hesitation。 It looked so stupid； and she knew it
looked stupid only because it could not decide what to do。 So she took it
up in her arms。 And as it had not been able to obtain any rest either
indoors out out…of…doors； it allowed her to hold it。 Then she stroked and
petted it to keep it from being afraid； and boldly went to the chemist's
assistant and said；
〃If you don't like that animal； you mustn't beat it； you must give it to
me。〃
〃Take it；〃 said the assistant。
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
。。。〃Now there！〃 adds Jeanne； by way of conclusion； and then she
changes her voice again to a flute…tone in order to say all kinds of sweet
things to the cat。
〃He is horribly thin；〃 I observe； looking at the wretched animal；
〃moreover； he is horribly ugly。〃 Jeanne thinks he is not ugly at all； but she
acknowledges that he looks even more stupid than he looked at first： this
time she thinks it not indecision； but surprise； which gives that unfortunate
aspect to his countenance。 She asks us to imagine ourselves in his place；
then we are obliged to acknowledge that he cannot possibly understand
what has happened to him。 And then we all burst out laughing in the face
of the poor little beast； which maintains the most comical look of gravity。
Jeanne wants to take him up； but he hides himself under the table； and
cannot even be tempted to come out by the lure of a saucer of milk。
We all turn our backs and promise not to look； when we inspect the
saucer again； we find it empty。
〃Jeanne；〃 I observe； 〃your protege
