the crime of sylvestre bonnard(西维斯特·博拉德的罪行)-第50节
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saucer again； we find it empty。
〃Jeanne；〃 I observe； 〃your protege has a decidedly tristful aspect of
countenance； he is of sly and suspicious disposition； I trust he is not going
to commit in the City of Books any such misdemeanours as might render
it necessary for us to send him back to his chemist's shop。 In the meantime
we must give him a name。 Suppose we call him 'Don Gris de Gouttiere'；
but perhaps that is too long。 'Pill；' 'Drug；' or 'Castor…oil' would be short
enough； and would further serve to recall his early condition in life。 What
do you think about it？
〃'Pill' would not sound bad；〃 answers Jeanne； 〃but it would be very
unkind to give him a name which would be always reminding him of the
misery from which we saved him。 It would be making him pay too dearly
for our hospitality。 Let us be more generous； and give him a pretty name；
in hopes that he is going to deserve it。 See how he looks at us！ He knows
that we are talking about him。 And now that he is no longer unhappy； he is
beginning to look a great deal less stupid。 I am not joking！ Unhappiness
does make people look stupid；I am perfectly sure it does。〃
〃Well； Jeanne； if you like； we will call your protege Hannibal。 The
appropriateness of that name does not seem to strike you at once。 But the
Angora cat who preceded him here as an intimate of the City of Books；
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and to whom I was in the habit of telling all my secrets for he was a very
wise and discreet personused to be called Hamilcar。 It is natural that this
name should beget the other； and that Hannibal should succeed Hamilcar。〃
We all agreed upon this point。
〃Hannibal！〃 cried Jeanne； 〃come here！〃
Hannibal； greatly frightened by the strange sonority of his own name；
ran to hid himself under a bookcase in an orifice so small that a rat could
not have squeezed himself into it。
A nice way of doing credit to so great a name！
I was in a good humour for working that day； and I had just dipped
the nib of my pen into the ink…bottle when I heard some one ring。 Should
any one ever read these pages written by an unimaginative old man； he
will be sure to laugh at the way that bell keeps ringing through my
narrative； without ever announcing the arrival of a new personage or
introducing any unexpected incident。 On the stage things are managed on
the reverse principle。 Monsieur Scribe never has the curtain raised without
good reason； and for the greater enjoyment of ladies and young misses。
That is art！ I would rather hang myself than write a play；not that I
despise life； but because I should never be able to invent anything amusing。
Invent！ In order to do that one must have received the gift of inspiration。 It
would be a very unfortunate thing for me to possess such a gift。 Suppose I
were to invent some monkling in my history of the Abbey of Saint…
Germain…des…Pres！ What would our young erudites say？ What a scandal
for the School！ As for the Institute； it would say nothing and probably not
even think about the matter either。 Even if my colleagues still write a little
sometimes； they never read。 They are of the opinion of Parny； who said；
〃Une paisible indifference Est la plus sage des vertus。〃 ＇〃The most
wise of the virtues is a calm indifference。〃＇
To be the least wise in order to become the most wisethis is precisely
what those Buddhists are aiming at without knowing it。 If there is any
wiser wisdom than that I will go to Rome to report upon it。。。。 And all this
because Monsieur Gelis happened to ring the bell！
This young man has latterly changed his manner completely with
Jeanne。 He is now quite as serious as he used to be frivolous； and quite as
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silent as he used to be chatty。 And Jeanne follows his example。 We have
reached the phase of passionate love under constraint。 For； old as I am； I
cannot be deceived about it： these two children are violently and sincerely
in love with each other。 Jeanne now avoids himshe hides herself in her
room when he comes into the librarybut how well she knows how to
reach him when she is alone！ alone at her piano！ Every evening she talks
to him through the music she plays with a rich thrill of passional feeling
which is the new utterance of her new soul。
Well； why should I not confess it？ Why should I not avow my
weakness？ Surely my egotism would not become any less blameworthy by
keeping it hidden from myself？ So I will write it。 Yes！ I was hoping for
something else；yes！ I thought I was going to keep her all to myself； as
my own child； as my own daughternot always； of course； not even
perhaps for very long； but just for a few short years more。 I am so old！
Could she not wait？ And； who knows？ With the help of the gout； I would
not have imposed upon her patience too much。 That was my wish； that
was my hope。 I had made my plansI had not reckoned upon the coming
of this wild young man。 But the mistake is none the less cruel because my
reckoning happened to be wrong。 And yet it seems to me that you are
condemning yourself very rashly； friend Sylvestre Bonnard： if you did
want to keep this young girl a few years longer； it was quite as much in her
own interest as in yours。 She has a great deal to learn yet； and you are not
a master to be despised。 When that miserable notary Mouchewho
subsequently committed his rascalities at so opportune a momentpaid
you the honour of a visit； you explained to him your ideas of education
with all the fervour of high enthusiasm。 Then you attempted to put that
system of yours into practice；Jeanne is certainly an ungrateful girl； and
Gelis a much too seductive young man！
But still；unless I put him out of the house； which would be a
detestably ill…mannered and ill…natured thing to do；I must continue to
receive him。 He has been waiting ever so long in my little parlour； in front
of those Sevres vases with which King Louis Philippe so graciously
presented me。 The Moissonneurs and the Pecheurs of Leopold Robert are
painted upon those porcelain vases； which Gelis nevertheless dares to call
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frightfully ugly； with the warm approval of Jeanne； whom he has
absolutely bewitched。
〃My dear lad； excuse me for having kept you waiting so long。 I had a
little bit of work to finish。〃
I am telling the truth。 Meditation is work； but of course Gelis does not
know what I mean； he thinks I am referring to something archaeological；
and； his question in regard to the health of Mademoiselle Jeanne having
been answered by a 〃Very well indeed；〃 uttered in that extremely dry tone
which reveals my moral authority as guardian； we begin to converse about
historical subjects。 We first enter upon generalities。 Generalities are
sometimes extremely serviceable。 I try to inculcate into Monsieur Gelis
some respect for that generation of historians to which I belong。 I say to
him；
〃History； which was formerly an art； and which afforded place for the
fullest exercise of the imagination； has in our time become a science； the
study of which demands absolute exactness of knowledge。〃
Gelis asks leave to differ from me on this subject。 He tells me he does
not believe that history is a science； or that it could possibly ever become a
science。
〃In the first place；〃 he says to me； 〃what is history？ The written
representation of past events。 But what is an event？ Is it merely a
commonplace fact？ It is any fact？ No！ You say yourself it is a noteworthy
fact。 Now； how is the historian to tell whether a fact is noteworthy or not？
He judges it arbitrarily； according to his tastes and his caprices and his
ideasin short； as an artist？ For facts cannot by reason of their own
