By the time Eugene had finished the letter he was in tears. He thought of Father Goriot crushing his silver keepsake into a qhapeless mass before he sold it to meet his daughter's bill of exchange.
"Your mother has broken up her jewels for you," he said to himself; "your aunt shed tears over those relics1 of hers before she sold them for your sake. What right have you to heap execrations on Anastasie? You have followed her example; you have selfishly sacrificed others to your own future, and she sacrifices her father to her lover; and of you two, which is the worse?"
He was ready to renounce2 his attempts; he could not bear to take that money. The fires of remorse3 burned in his heart, and gave him intolerable pain, the generous secret remorse which men seldom take into account when they sit in judgment4 upon their fellow-men; but perhaps the angels in heaven, beholding5 it, pardon the criminal whom our justice condemns6. Rastignac opened his sister's letter; its simplicity7 and kindness revived his heart.
"Your letter came just at the right time, dear brother. Agathe and I had thought of so many different ways of spending our money, that we did not know what to buy with it; and now you have come in, and, like the servant who upset all the watches that belonged to the King of Spain, you have restored harmony; for, really and truly, we did not know which of all the things we wanted we wanted most, and we were always quarreling about it, never thinking, dear Eugene, of a way of spending our money which would satisfy us completely. Agathe jumped for you. Indeed, we have been like two mad things all day, 'to such a prodigious8 degree' (as aunt would say), that mother said, with her severe expression, 'Whatever can be the matter with you, mesdemoiselles?' I think if we had been scolded a little, we should have been still better pleased. A woman ought to be very glad to suffer for one she loves! I, however, in my inmost soul, was doleful and cross in the midst of all my joy. I shall make a bad wife, I am afraid, I am too fond of spending. I had bought two sashes and a nice little stiletto for piercing eyelet-holes in my stays, trifles that I really did not want, so that I have less than that slow-coach Agathe, who is so economical, and hoards9 her money like a magpie11. She had two hundred francs! And I have only one hundred and fifty! I am nicely punished; I could throw my sash down the well; it will be painful to me to wear it now. Poor dear, I have robbed you. And Agathe was so nice about it. She said, 'Let us send the three hundred and fifty francs in our two names!' But I could not help telling you everything just as it happened.
"Do you know how we managed to keep your commandments? We took our glittering hoard10, we went out for a walk, and when once fairly on the highway we ran all the way to Ruffec, where we handed over the coin, without more ado, to M. Grimbert of the Messageries Royales. We came back again like swallows on the wing. 'Don't you think that happiness has made us lighter12?' Agathe said. We said all sorts of things, which I shall not tell you, Monsieur le Parisien, because they were all about you. Oh, we love you dearly, dear brother; it was all summed up in those few words. As for keeping the secret, little masqueraders like us are capable of anything (according to our aunt), even of holding our tongues. Our mother has been on a mysterious journey to Angouleme, and the aunt went with her, not without solemn councils, from which we were shut out, and M. le Baron13 likewise. They are silent as to the weighty political considerations that prompted their mission, and conjectures14 are rife15 in the State of Rastignac. The Infantas are embroidering16 a muslin robe with openwork sprigs for her Majesty17 the Queen; the work progresses in the most profound secrecy18. There be but two more breadths to finish. A decree has gone forth19 that no wall shall be built on the side of Verteuil, but that a hedge shall be planted instead thereof. Our subjects may sustain some disappointment of fruit and espaliers, but strangers will enjoy a fair prospect20. Should the heir-presumptive lack pocket-handkerchiefs, be it known unto him that the dowager Lady of Marcillac, exploring the recesses21 of her drawers and boxes (known respectively as Pompeii and Herculaneum), having brought to light a fair piece of cambric whereof she wotted not, the Princesses Agathe and Laure place at their brother's disposal their thread, their needles, and hands somewhat of the reddest. The two young Princes, Don Henri and Don Gabriel, retain their fatal habits of stuffing themselves with grape-jelly, of teasing their sisters, of taking their pleasure by going a-bird-nesting, and of
cutting switches for themselves from the osier-beds, maugre the laws of the realm. Moreover, they list not to learn naught23, wherefore the Papal Nuncio (called of the commonalty, M. le Cure) threateneth them with excommunication, since that they neglect the sacred canons of grammatical construction for the construction of other canon, deadly engines made of the stems of elder.
"Farewell, dear brother, never did letter carry so many wishes for your success, so much love fully24 satisfied. You will have a great deal to tell us when you come home! You will tell me everything, won't you? I am the oldest. From something the aunt let fall, we think you must have had some success.
"Something was said of a lady, but nothing more was said . . .
"Of course not, in our family! Oh, by-the-by, Eugene, would you rather that we made that piece of cambric into shirts for you instead of pocket-handkerchiefs? If you want some really nice shirts at once, we ought to lose no time in beginning upon them; and if the fashion is different now in Paris, send us one for a pattern; we want more particularly to know about the cuffs25. Goodbye! Good-bye! Take my kiss on the left side of your forehead, on the temple that belongs to me, and to no one else in the world. I am leaving the other side of the sheet for Agathe, who has solemnly promised not to read a word that I have written; but, all the same, I mean to sit by her side while she writes, so as to be quite sure that she keeps her word.--Your loving sister, "Laure de Rastignac."
"Yes!" said Eugene to himself. "Yes! Success at all costs now! Riches could not repay such devotion as this. I wish I could give them every sort of happiness! ifteen hundred and fifty francs," he went on after a pause. "Every shot must go to the mark! Laure is right. Trust a woman! I have only calico shirts. Where some one else's welfare is concerned, a young girl becomes as ingenious as a thief. Guileless where she herself is in question, and full of foresight27 for me,--she is like a heavenly angel forgiving the strange incomprehensible sins of earth."
The world lay before him. His tailor had been summoned and sounded, and had finally surrendered. When Rastignac met M. de Trailles, he had seen at once how great a part the tailor plays in a young man's career; a tailor is either a deadly enemy or a staunch friend, with an invoice28 for a bond of friendship; between these two extremes there is, alack! no middle term. In this representative of his craft Eugene discovered a man who understood that his was a sort of paternal29 function for young men at their entrance into life, who regarded himself as a steppingstone between a young man's present and future. And Rastignac in gratitude30 made the man's fortune by an epigram of a kind in which he excelled at a later period of his life.
"I have twice known a pair of trousers turned out by him make a match of twenty thousand livres a year!"
Fifteen hundred francs, and as many suits of clothes as he chose to order! At that moment the poor child of the South felt no more doubts of any kind. The young man went down to breakfast with the indefinable air which the consciousness of the possession of money gives to youth. No sooner are the coins slipped into a student's pocket than his wealth, in imagination at least, is piled into a fantastic column, which affords him a moral support. He begins to hold up his head as he walks; he is conscious that he has a means of bringing his powers to bear on a given point; he looks you straight in the face; his gestures are quick and decided31; only yesterday he was diffident and shy, any one might have pushed him aside; to-morrow, he will take the wall of a prime minister. A miracle has been wrought32 in him. Nothing is beyond the reach of his ambition, and his ambition soars at random33; he is light-hearted, generous, and enthusiastic; in short, the fledgling bird has discovered that he has wings. A poor student snatches at every chance pleasure much as a dog runs all sorts of risks to steal a bone, cracking it and sucking the marrow34 as he flies from pursuit; but a young man who can rattle35 a few runaway36 gold coins in his pocket can take his pleasure deliberately37, can taste the whole of the sweets of secure possession; he soars far above earth; he has forgotten what the word POVERTY means; all Paris is his. Those are days when the whole world shines radiant with light, when everything glows and sparkles before the eyes of youth, days that bring joyous38 energy that is never brought into harness, days of debts and of painful fears that go hand in hand with every delight. Those who do not know the left bank of the Seine between the Rue39 Saint-Jacques and the Rue des Saints-Peres know nothing of life.
"Ah! if the women of Paris but knew," said Rastignac, as he devoured40 Mme. Vauquer's stewed41 pears (at five for a penny), "they would come here in search of a lover."
Just then a porter from the Messageries Royales appeared at the door of the room; they had previously42 heard the bell ring as the wicket opened to admit him. The man asked for M. Eugene de Rastignac, holding out two bags for him to take, and a form of receipt for his signature. Vautrin's keen glance cut Eugene like a lash43.
"Now you will be able to pay for those fencing lessons and go to the shooting gallery," he said.
"Your ship has come in," said Mme. Vauquer, eyeing the bags.
Mlle. Michonneau did not dare to look at the money, for fear her eyes should betray her cupidity44.
"You have a kind mother," said Mme. Couture.
"You have a kind mother, sir," echoed Poiret.
"Yes, mamma has been drained dry," said Vautrin, "and now you can have your fling, go into society, and fish for heiresses, and dance with countesses who have peach blossom in their hair. But take my advice, young man, and don't neglect your pistol practice."
Vautrin struck an attitude, as if he were facing an antagonist45. Rastignac, meaning to give the porter a tip, felt in his pockets and found nothing. Vautrin flung down a franc piece on the table.
"Your credit is good," he remarked, eyeing the student, and Rastignac was forced to thank him, though, since the sharp encounter of wits at dinner that day, after Eugene came in from calling on Mme. de Beauseant, he had made up his mind that Vautrin was insufferable. For a week, in fact, they had both kept silence in each other's presence, and watched each other. The student tried in vain to account to himself for this attitude.
An idea, of course, gains in force by the energy with which it is expressed; it strikes where the brain sends it, by a law as mathematically exact as the law that determines the course of a shell from a mortar46. The amount of impression it makes is not to be determined47 so exactly. Sometimes, in an impressible nature, the idea works havoc48, but there are, no less, natures so robustly49 protected, that this sort of projectile50 falls flat and harmless on skulls51 of triple brass52, as cannon-shot against solid masonry53; then there are flaccid and spongy-fibred natures into which ideas from without sink like spent bullets into the earthworks of a redoubt. Rastignac's head was something of the powder-magazine order; the least shock sufficed to bring about an explosion. He was too quick, too young, not to be readily accessible to ideas; and open to that subtle influence of thought and feeling in others which causes so many strange phenomena54 that make an impression upon us of which we are all unconscious at the time. Nothing escaped his mental vision; he was lynx-eyed; in him the mental powers of perception, which seem like duplicates of the senses, had the mysterious power of swift projection55 that astonishes us in intellects of a high order--slingers who are quick to detect the weak spot in any armor.
In the past month Eugene's good qualities and defects had rapidly developed with his character. Intercourse56 with the world and the endeavor to satisfy his growing desires had brought out his defects. But Rastignac came from the South side of the Loire, and had the good qualities of his countrymen. He had the impetuous courage of the South, that rushes to the attack of a difficulty, as well as the southern impatience57 of delay or suspense58. These traits are held to be defects in the North; they made the fortune of Murat, but they likewise cut short his career. The moral would appear to be that when the dash and boldness of the South side of the Loire meets, in a southern temperament59, with the guile26 of the North, the character is complete, and such a man will gain (and keep) the crown of Sweden.
Rastignac, therefore, could not stand the fire from Vautrin's batteries for long without discovering whether this was a friend or a foe60. He felt as if this strange being was reading his inmost soul, and dissecting61 his feelings, while Vautrin himself was so close and secretive that he seemed to have something of the profound and unmoved serenity62 of a sphinx, seeing and hearing all things and saying nothing. Eugene, conscious of that money in his pocket, grew rebellious63.
"Be so good as to wait a moment," he said to Vautrin, as the latter rose, after slowly emptying his coffee-cup, sip64 by sip.
"What for?" inquired the older man, as he put on his largebrimmed hat and took up the sword-cane that he was wont65 to twirl like a man who will face three or four footpads without flinching66.
"I will repay you in a minute," returned Eugene. He unsealed one of the bags as he spoke67, counted out a hundred and forty francs, and pushed them towards Mme. Vauquer. "Short reckonings make good friends" he added, turning to the widow; "that clears our accounts till the end of the year. Can you give me change for a five-franc piece?"
"Good friends make short reckonings," echoed Poiret, with a glance at Vautrin.
"Here is your franc," said Rastignac, holding out the coin to the sphinx in the black wig69.
"Any one might think that you were afraid to owe me a trifle," exclaimed this latter, with a searching glance that seemed to read the young man's inmost thoughts; there was a satirical and cynical70 smile on Vautrin's face such as Eugene had seen scores of times already; every time he saw it, it exasperated71 him almost beyond endurance.
"Well . . . so I am," he answered. He held both the bags in his hand, and had risen to go up to his room.
Vautrin made as if he were going out through the sitting-room72, and the student turned to go through the second door that opened into the square lobby at the foot of the staircase.
"Do you know, Monsieur le Marquis de Rastignacorama, that what you were saying just now was not exactly polite?" Vautrin remarked, as he rattled73 his sword-cane across the panels of the sitting-room door, and came up to the student.
Rastignac looked coolly at Vautrin, drew him to the foot of the staircase, and shut the dining-room door. They were standing74 in the little square lobby between the kitchen and the dining-room; the place was lighted by an iron-barred fanlight above a door that gave access into the garden. Sylvie came out of her kitchen, and Eugene chose that moment to say:
MONSIEUR Vautrin, I am not a marquis, and my name is not Rastignacorama."
"Dhey will fight," said Mlle. Michonneau, in an indifferent tone.
"Fight!" echoed Poiret.
"Not they," replied Mme. Vauquer, lovingly fingering her pile of coins.
"But there they are under the lime-trees," cried Mlle. Victorine, who had risen so that she might see out into the garden. "Poor young man! he was in the right, after all."
"We must go upstairs, my pet," said Mme. Couture; "it is no business of ours."
At the door, however, Mme. Couture and Victorine found their progress barred by the portly form of Sylvie the cook.
"What ever can have happened?" she said. "M. Vautrin said to M. Eugene, 'Let us have an explanation!' then he took him by the arm, and there they are, out among the artichokes."
Vautrin came in while she was speaking. "Mamma Vauquer," he said smiling, "don't frighten yourself at all. I am only going to try my pistols under the lime-trees."
"Oh! monsieur," cried Victorine, clasping her hands as she spoke, "why do you want to kill M. Eugene?"
Vautrin stepped back a pace or two, and gazed at Victorine.
"Oh! this is something fresh!" he exclaimed in a bantering75 tone, that brought the color into the poor girl's face. "That young fellow yonder is very nice, isn't he?" he went on. "You have given me a notion, my pretty child; I will make you both happy."
Mme. Couture laid her hand on the arm of her ward68, and drew the girl away, as she said in her ear:
"Why, Victorine, I cannot imagine what has come over you this morning."
"I don't want any shots fired in my garden," said Mme. Vauquer. "You will frighten the neighborhood and bring the police up here all in a moment."
"Come, keep cool, Mamma Vauquer," answered Vautrin. "There, there; it's all right; we will go to the shooting-gallery."
He went back to Rastignac, laying his hand familiarly on the young man's arm.
"When I have given you ocular demonstration76 of the fact that I can put a bullet through the ace22 on a card five times running at thirty-five paces," he said, "that won't take away your appetite, I suppose? You look to me to be inclined to be a trifle quarrelsome this morning, and as if you would rush on your death like a blockhead."
"Do you draw back?" asked Eugene.
"Don't try to raise my temperature," answered Vautrin, "it is not cold this morning. Let us go and sit over there," he added, pointing to the green-painted garden seats; "no one can overhear us. I want a little talk with you. You are not a bad sort of youngster, and I have no quarrel with you. I like you, take Trump--(confound it!)--take Vautrin's word for it. What makes me like you? I will tell you by-and-by. Meantime, I can tell you that I know you as well as if I had made you myself, as I will prove to you in a minute. Put down your bags," he continued, pointing to the round table.
收听单词发音 |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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condemns
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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hoards
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| n.（钱财、食物或其他珍贵物品的）储藏，积存( hoard的名词复数 )v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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magpie
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| n.喜欢收藏物品的人，喜鹊，饶舌者 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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embroidering
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| v.（在织物上）绣花( embroider的现在分词 )；刺绣；对…加以渲染（或修饰）；给…添枝加叶 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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invoice
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| vt.开发票；n.发票，装货清单 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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robustly
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| adv.要用体力地，粗鲁地 | |
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projectile
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| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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dissecting
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| v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的现在分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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