Bowing again, but with a warmer courtesy, he motioned her to take his place at the inner side of the table while he, drawing the end of stool a foot or two back towards the corner, sat, half-concealed by her shrouded2 bulk.
"Mademoiselle will excuse me uncovering?" he said, touching3 his slouched hat, "and will also remember we are not alone."
Turning, she glanced down at us as we sat in the light of our one guttering4 candle. It was my first glimpse of her face, but so deep was her hood5 I saw no more than an oval of pallor in the darkness of its cavity.
"I think," said she contemptuously, with a glance at the scattered6 group in the alcove7, "we could soon be alone if Monseigneur thought it desirable."
Of the hint and the contempt I alike took no notice, of the latter because of the former; the threat that underlay8 it fixed9 me to my seat. To have moved then, was to move upon compulsion. But as we continued our play with the dice10 as if the words had never been said, her companion interposed hastily.
"No, no. I confess I thought of that before you came. But brawling11 would serve neither you nor me, no, nor those who—who—trust us."
"That there is trust between us, Monseigneur, I am glad to know," she answered, "for as yet, I have not seen much of it—on one side."
So far they had spoken with no pretence13 at concealment14, their object, I surmised15, being to disabuse16 us of all suspicion of deep matters. But now their voices fell to a murmur17, over which the click of the dice on the wood of the table sounded to my tense nerves like a clash of swords. Let it be remembered that I was but a country lad. All this was new to me, and the pricking18 threat of danger, the secrecy19, the very air of Paris itself, fired my blood.
And so the minutes passed; the girl—I was sure she was a girl, so sweet was her voice, so gentle, and with a stirring music in it that was strange to me in women's voices. Since then I have heard a like music throbbing20 from a bird's song in the pure blue of a summer's noon, and been thrilled by it as I was then; yes, I was sure it was a girl.
The girl it was who spoke12 most, spoke with a varying mood that charmed and angered me; even when mechanically flinging the dice I feigned21 not to see the eagerness, the insistence22, the passion, the pleading whose murmured words fell like tears. What right had that stolid24 clod—clod was what Paris had called us in her streets, and the name stuck—what right had he to be so coldly unmoved, so silent, that he only answered her by a word or a gesture of denial? But she would take no denial, and with the brave spirit of a good woman returned to her pleading, pushing the petition home urgently, even strengthening her arguments by two outstretched arms, and a hand upon his shoulder. How did I know all that? Ah! every clod on which the sun strikes has a soul within it, and so I knew.
Yet what did he answer?
"All must be as the King wills," said he, his words roughening with distinctness as if he were not altogether sorry to be overheard. "All as the King wills, remember that, Mademoiselle. He is the potter, I the clay; he is everything, I nothing—nothing."
"Nothing!" she echoed, her voice rising level with his own, "why! all France knows that you are the King in everything but name. What you say to-day, Louis says to-morrow; why deny it? Let us come to the bare truth. We desire peace, desire it with all our heart, and you say you will do nothing. Is that to be your answer, Monseigneur?"
"Not that I will do nothing, but that I am nothing. If all France thinks it knows better, then all France is a fool. I sleep in his chamber25, I tend him, I wait upon him, I valet him—I think no shame of that; he is the greatest King and wisest man in Christendom—I do these things, but—I am nothing. Or," he went on, after a pause, "if I am something—anything, it is because I am careful to be nothing. By a breath he undoes26 me, and I would not have it different. France grows great by the greatness of its Kings, and if France falls, it will be because the King has let the shadow of the people fall upon the throne."
"Then—is it ruin?" I do not think she meant the words to be heard, but she was shaken out of herself, and spoke louder than she knew. "Must a great house fail that greatness may grow yet a little greater? And so little greater, so very little! Much to us, Monseigneur, ah! you can never guess how much, but so little to France. Is that your answer, ruin, ruin, ruin?"
A silence fell, and I will not deny that though I still fingered the dice my breath was held to catch the reply. It came slowly, gravely, spoken as a man speaks who knows his own weight, and the weight his words cannot help but carry.
"I, too, desire peace, but all is as the King wills."
Whether she would have urged him afresh I do not know, but opportunity was wanting. All through supper, and afterward27, sounds of carousals had come across the courtyard from the common room, hoarse28 bursts of song, hoarser29 laughter, roared out oaths, and the occasional scuffle of feet stamping on the sanded floor. Then came a time of quiet, and had I but known my Paris better I would have guessed that then was the time of danger. While Paris is noisy, Paris, by a paradox30, is safe and tranquil31; when Paris thinks, and speaks under its breath, then Paris is dangerous.
But of the many wild beasts that couch in France, Paris was the one of which I knew the least, and when I thought the night drew to peace, Paris was already on the spring. A door opened more quietly than a door is commonly opened with a half-drunk reveller's hand upon the latch32; from the courtyard a voice or two spoke out, spoke shortly and without clamour. Then, unheralded by warning, came the third interruption of the night. Both wings of the door were flung open, and in the space a figure showed itself, which, apart from its sudden appearance, must still have drawn33 our eyes.
It was a man so beragged, and so variously bepatched as to be ridiculous, were it not that aged34 poverty is always pathetic. Every stuff of the looms35 had gone to his clothing, every shade of the dyer, faded and weatherstained, peeped and twinkled in the mendings of his tatters. But the eye soon shifted from these frank advertisements of starved penury36, and wandering to his face, stayed there, fixed by a fascination37 that defies analysis. Let a soul but look out of window, and whether it be naked Priapus plastered to the crown with filth38, or Saint Francis of the birds—are there not many gods in the Olympus of the mind?—they who see it must needs look back, and never heed39 what are the drapings of flesh through which it peers.
From under a dirty linen40 cap, from which, in a derision of gaiety, drooped41 a draggled red feather, three or four grey locks strayed across a noble forehead till they met and thickened a line of delicate brows. The nose was thin, hooked, and cruel, pinched in at the nostrils42 to a fixed sneer43; the cheeks lean and smooth, but covered with a network of fine wrinkles branching from below the eyes. Over a loose, full-lipped mouth, red, sensuous44, and smiling, fell an almost white moustache, caught up into an audacious curve at the ends; the chin was bearded by a straggle of thin silver hair drawn to a point.
But, more than all the rest, the eyes marked him for a man of brains, so full were they, so lustrous45, and yet so piercing; age might whiten him, shrivel him; an evil life, hard lived, might shake his nerve, but the eyes and the brain and the soul of the man bated no jot46 of their strength. Behind him—strangely like, and yet strangely unakin—tiptoeing or stooping low to see the better, was such a gathering47 of rabble48 as a casting of nets will draw from the denser49, fouler51 slums of any great city.
Laying a long-fingered, delicate, much-soiled hand upon his breast, he bowed satirically.
"Mesdames and Messieurs, and you, the disguised princes of the blood in the dark yonder, you sweepings54 of the hedgerows who cannot eat in the presence of men more like Almighty55 God in intelligence than yourselves, you are welcome every one of you. We looked for tribute from two of earth's scum," he went on, posing himself negligently56, one foot advanced, a fist doubled on a hip1, the fingers of the other playing with his straggled beard point, "and lo! there are seven great and small; therefore, as seven is to two, and the product to the emptiness of our pockets, so is our welcome."
By this time all, whether within the room, or without, were on their feet, but the seven of which he spoke so gibingly were still in three groups. But he who called himself Narbonne was naturally the spokesman of us all and he it was who answered.
"Take your jest elsewhere, and your filthy57 crew with it," he said coldly. "Piff! your very smell is an offence."
But the other never stirred, nor did the smile leave his face; only his eyes narrowed, and his full mouth grew hard, the lips tightening58 till the stumps59 showed in the gums.
"'Tis the oil of the student," he answered suavely60; "the literary flavour as we in Paris know it, or maybe, your nostrils are unaccustomed to the sweet-smelling flowers of Parnassus? To some poor souls the perfume of poesy is as strange as the odour of sanctity. They have my pity!"
"Again, I tell you, take your jest elsewhere."
"Jest! My friend, you cannot have lived in courts. Now, I know court life as I know my barren pouch61. Jest? Does our brother Louis jest when he knocks at the door of high and low and says, Pay me my taxes? His is a door of wood, mine that yet harder, more tightly fitting door, the human heart! You do not understand? Listen then! Francis the First, King of Divine Song, Prince of all Poets, Elder Brother to the Nine Muses62 and Father of the Lord knows what, levies63 tribute, and by God! Messieurs and Mesdames, he'll see it paid! These," and he pointed64, thumb across shoulder, to the tattered65 slum bullies66, thieves, cut-throats, and night-walkers, who had pushed him forward almost to the edge of the table, "these are our honourable67 tax-collectors, lambs almost as gentle as our brother Louis' own. Do you pay, Messieurs, or must the law take its course?"
From his place in the alcove, he who had been the women's attendant stepped forward.
"Let me deal with the rabble, Monseigneur."
"Silence, sir, know your place—and mine," he added significantly. Then, turning to the fellow across the table he went on sternly, "and you, leave the King's name out of your mummery, or your fool's wit may not save your neck."
"I have looked through a halter ere now, and come away neither sadder nor wiser than you see me. God forbid I should ever be one or other. I have even given my Testament68 to the world, a thing few men do and live. Alas69! How the world changes. But that is past and the bird sings no longer.
Ou sont les gratieux gallards
Que je suy voye au temps jadis,
Si bien chantans, si bien parlans,
Si plaisans en faicts et en dicts?
Hung, I sadly fear, hung, every mother's son of them! But the bird still sits upon the bough70, and if in age it sings less, still needs must that it fills its craw, so, come, sir, pay up! Like my brother Louis, I try smooth means first, but, also like my brother Louis, I do not stop there; and, again like my brother Louis, when I squeeze I squeeze hard.
Necessité fait gars mesprendre,
Et faim saillir le loup des boys,
"Fran?ois, the one and only King of Song, has spoken!"
"Fran?ois? What? Art thou that Fran?ois Villon?"
The fellow laughed as he bowed with a flourish.
"Monsieur has said it!"
"Fran?ois Villon? And not hanged yet?"
Again he laughed, but this time without merriment; the gibe71 and the contempt were alike bitter.
"Again Monsieur has said it! Twice, no, when I come to think of it, thrice Montfau?on has sighed for me, and yet I live. By my faith! I begin to think I shall die in my bed if I do not first starve in the streets!"
"Fran?ois Villon——"
"I have said it, I have said it; King Fran?ois Villon, Fran?ois the first, Fran?ois the last, Fran?ois Villon, the lover of all the Muses and every pretty woman in the world! And now that you know me, Monsieur, your purse, that Fran?ois Villon the man and his tax collectors may drink and bless you. What? You will not? Ah, be persuaded, be gently persuaded, what is a purse or two, a handful of beggarly coins, compared with—Mademoiselle is with you, is she not? Then God forbid that I should finish the comparison. As a poet I hate ugly realities, as a man I love pretty women, and Fran?ois Villon the man—Alas! we all have our passions, our frailties72, you understand; eh? Look at us, we can be rough at times, just as our brother Louis can, and not having seen Mademoiselle's face I do not know if it is worth our while to quarrel. One peep, Mademoiselle, one little glimpse for the poet; the man, whose delights are not altogether pleasures of the mind, can come later if it is worth his while; one look, just one," and leaning across the narrow table he stretched out a long arm as if to twitch73 her hood aside.
"Mon Dieu! Monseigneur," she cried, not shrinking back, but holding herself erect74 just out of reach of the foul52 and twitching75 fingertips. "Is there no one to kill this infamous76 wretch77?"
In a flash her neighbour's sword was out, and with its point at Villon's throat he cried;
"Another inch, and she shall see it done!"
To do him justice, Villon never flinched78, but stood there silent, rigid79 as a statue, his loose lips parted in an evil smile, his eyes searching the shaded faces of the two fronting him. But if he held his peace, those about him did not. Look on us! he had said, and said wisely. It was a frank warning, a cynical80 invitation to repulsion and disgust. From noisome81 cellars and crazy garrets, down rotting stairways, by crooked82 sunless lanes, from thieves' dens50 and nameless stews83 of vice84 where neither law, honour, or sweetness of life ever went, they had come, these garbage rats of the sewers85 of Paris, of which he said, Look on us! And the brand of their lives was red on them, as if stamped by the hangman's iron. Weasel face, rat face, wolf face; look on us! human brutes87 every one. And like brutes they bore themselves, growling88, snarling89, spitting; their teeth bared to bite.
Little by little they had pressed in after Villon, little by little they had spread themselves through the room, but mostly at the upper end, guessing that the sweetest pickings lay there, and in a herd90, as if they drew a natural brute86 courage from the feel and jostle of numbers. Never for an instant were they still, but shifted restlessly like wolves in a cage; never for an instant were they silent, and when the chief brute of them all, he of the God-given brain, laid upon the altar of service to the devil, said, Look on us! a guttural chorus rose that gave point and barb91 to the menace. They knew the power of evil and gloried in it. Arms were shaken in the air, arms in sleeves, arms in tatters, arms bare, women's arms, men's arms, and in every fist was a weapon, a knife, a cleaver92, a bludgeon, anything that could maim93 or bruise94, even cobble stones torn from the streets were flourished above shock heads, the slime of the kennel95 still wet upon them.
With the blade at Villon's throat the chorus swelled96 to a roar, and I was passing up behind Martin's back, my own sword half drawn, when he stopped me.
"No, no, Monsieur Gaspard," he whispered, clinging to my sleeve as he had clung to Roland's bridle97 the day Solignac was burned. "Let them settle it among themselves; our way is by the window opposite. What have we to do with other men's brawls98. Once in the courtyard and——" He stopped short and swung round on his heel. "Dame53! there is the fellow who struck Ninus across the muzzle99! With you, Monseigneur, with you! A Hellewyl! a Hellewyl! Only for heaven's sake, let the women stand back." And before I could follow his change of mood he had flung our candle into a corner and was leaning across the table side by side with him I have called Monsieur Narbonne. "We pay no debts in Paris, do we not?" he cried, jerking a knee on to the table with his left hand while he lunged with the right, "My faith! but we do, we of Flanders!" and his blade went home.
It was first blood for us. From behind Villon was drawn back out of reach of the point at his throat, over went the table between us—Martin saving himself by a backward leap—and what happened thereafter I cannot tell. Twice I was hurt; once by a stone on the shoulder, and once by a stab instinctively100 parried in the dark by my left arm. But the putting out of the light saved us. Through the windows a straggle of moonbeams fell on the yelling, rascally101 mob, but left us in gloom. If they were outlines we were shadows, so like the fuller darkness as to be hardly visible, and the shadows had the advantage. Of two things the room seemed full; noise, the din23 of cursing voices, shuffling102 feet, groans103, obscenities, and a faint play of light like the flight of dull fireflies as the moon caught the twisting flats of steel.
Then the end came, but from without, not from within; a knocking at the inn door that grew louder and louder, and as it grew the babel within sobered. The kennel crew knew its meaning better than we. By ones and twos, and then in a swarm104, the mob fled. Fran?ois the First and Last, King of Song, and High Priest of all the rest of his blatancy105, heard Montfau?on call for the fourth time, and had no heart to dance upon nothing to the music of that sinister106 voice.
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1
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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guttering
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| n.用于建排水系统的材料；沟状切除术；开沟 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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underlay
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| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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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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13
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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disabuse
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| v.解惑；矫正 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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undoes
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| 松开( undo的第三人称单数 )； 解开； 毁灭； 败坏 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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hoarser
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| （指声音）粗哑的，嘶哑的( hoarse的比较级 ) | |
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paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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looms
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| n.织布机( loom的名词复数 )v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的第三人称单数 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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penury
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| n.贫穷，拮据 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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41
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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44
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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46
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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48
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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51
fouler
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| adj.恶劣的( foul的比较级 )；邪恶的；难闻的；下流的 | |
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52
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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53
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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54
sweepings
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| n.笼统的( sweeping的名词复数 )；（在投票等中的）大胜；影响广泛的；包罗万象的 | |
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55
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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56
negligently
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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58
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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59
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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suavely
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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muses
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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66
bullies
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| n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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68
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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69
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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gibe
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| n.讥笑；嘲弄 | |
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72
frailties
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| n.脆弱( frailty的名词复数 )；虚弱；（性格或行为上的）弱点；缺点 | |
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73
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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74
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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76
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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78
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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80
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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noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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82
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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83
stews
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| n.炖煮的菜肴( stew的名词复数 )；烦恼，焦虑v.炖( stew的第三人称单数 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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84
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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85
sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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87
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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88
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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90
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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barb
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| n.（鱼钩等的）倒钩，倒刺 | |
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92
cleaver
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| n.切肉刀 | |
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maim
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| v.使残废，使不能工作，使伤残 | |
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bruise
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| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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97
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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brawls
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| 吵架，打架( brawl的名词复数 ) | |
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99
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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100
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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101
rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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102
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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103
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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104
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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105
blatancy
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| 喧哗 | |
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106
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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