But, interesting as a man's affairs are to himself—and there is nothing he loves better to talk about than What I have done, What I am doing, and What I shall do to-morrow—there was a curtness4 in his last words that warned me off to other subjects.
"Shall we see Mademoiselle again?"
"Mademoiselle?" Into Monsieur de Commines eyes there crept a look a uncomprehending but tolerant amusement. "Alas5! I have reached the age when Mademoiselles cease to interest. But with youth it is different, and youth, as usual, is always right. If she has a fortune she may put a roof on Solignac sooner than the King will, and at a less risk. I have known many a broken house patched-up by a woman's hand, slender and white though it is. Has she a fortune, my friend, and—who is Mademoiselle?"
"Oh! Monseigneur, I have been indiscreet."
"Young and yet indiscreet, oh! no, no! Besides, indiscretion is the venial6 offence of lovers. If it were not so long since I had kissed a maid I would almost say it is their privilege. But you see, I am ten years married, and have forgotten. If Mademoiselle is satisfied, why should I complain? Indeed, I would almost doubt that a man were a true lover, and had veins8 aglow9 with the dear fires of Venus, if he were not discreetly10 indiscreet at times. It has the sanction of great antiquity11, for it dates from the garden of Eden. Adam, I am sure, was indiscreet—he spoke12 to the lady without an introduction. Or perhaps the Devil acted as Master of Ceremonies? What do you think? That also would be a precedent13, and one followed many a million time since then. The Lord God threw Adam into a sleep, and the Devil waked him, eh? To this day, sleep is the greatest gift of God,—blessed be sleep!—and waking, at times, is the very devil; have you not found it so yourself?"
"Oh Monseigneur," I cried again, deeply hurt by his jeering14 banter15 with its pretended misapprehension. "I repeat, I have been indiscreet. I am in the wrong."
"And being there, Monsieur Hellewyl, you are where no gentleman should ever put himself."
I shrugged16 my shoulders. For a man who knew the world so well Monsieur de Commines was going the wrong way about gaining his end.
"To put myself right, then, I had best answer my own question; I shall see Mademoiselle—to-morrow."
He only bowed, waited a second or two, then, saying carelessly that the hour was late, called a lackey17 to show me my quarters for the night, and we parted with constraint18. Yes, Monsieur de Commines' lesson had gone too far. I do not say it was not deserved, but youth loves to think itself above laughter, and few things bite deeper through its sensitive skin than does a barbed jest. That I was not only a fool, but an ungrateful fool, I am now the first to admit. But a wound to self-esteem has this quality, it blinds as well as galls19 and I could see no farther than my temper.
As I leaned out of the narrow window that overlooked the river, my indignation was too hot to be cooled by the night air, my irritation20 too raw to be soothed21 by the beauty or strangeness of the scene. And yet, to a man fresh from the outskirts22 of a Flanders wood, how much there was of beauty and strangeness.
Underneath23 me, beyond the fosse, lay the garden, bordered on either side by the thin stream of the water that fed the moat; beyond that swept the river, broad and full and a-swirl with strength. Here it gloomed to blackness, there it flashed bright and smooth as steel where the moon caught the soundless slope of the currents as they met below Ile Notre Dame24. To the left the Tour de Nesle rose on the further bank, black and sinister25 with its tradition of murder, the water lapping almost to its buttresses26. Still farther to the left was the huge bulk of the Chateau27 Galliard; farther yet, and Notre Dame melted into the vapours of the night, lost against the background of the Ile des Vaches and Ile de Javiaux. Out of the vapours rose spires28, towers, and sloping roofs innumerable, shining with dew or edged to a white effulgence29 as the full lustre30 of the moon glorified31 them.
But if the river slept, writhing32 and turning in its sleep as though ill dreams of drowned men plagued its rest, Paris was awake. But Paris never sleeps. It is a body possessed33 of many souls, many spirits—devils, some would say—and when slumber34 nurses one to quiet another rouses to carry on the fevered actions of its life. It is a forest of many beasts; those of the day couch to their rest at sunset, and in the same hour the prowlers of the night creep from their lairs35, foul36 beasts of prey37 that love the darkness and thrive on deeds from which men hide their faces. The pad, pad, pad, of their stealthy feet may be heard in the byeways, the growling38 of their hunger, the crash of their spring. To and fro they wander, never satisfied, and seek their dens39 before the coming of dawn when the creatures of innocent labour awake to the burden of a new day. No! Paris never sleeps!
The wakefulness was least to the east side where, beyond the Rue7 d'Hosterische, the Hotel de Bourbon sulked silent in its great square courtyard. There men both waked and slept, but waked watchful40 and on guard lest the prowling beast, desperate from famine, should spring at higher game than common. From the south, over the river, came a murmur41 as of bees, a murmur that hoarsened with the livelier play of the wind, as when one taps the hive, or fell away to a thin drone with the dying of the breeze. Westward42, life was sharper, more individual, and with swift surprises, of which one came as I watched; the loud patter of running feet in the Rue Froid Mantel just beyond the fosse, a woman's scream, the roaring out of a rough oath, and dwindling43 sobs44 cut through and over-borne by a far-off drunken roysterer's mirthless song.
But the obscure tragedy never moved me; a midge in a man's own eye is more hurt to him than a live coal in his neighbour's. Morning might have brought counsel, but that another small fret45 flecked the raw of my irritation, and kept the sore open—my borrowed finery had disappeared, and in its place lay the sorry garb46, yet sorrier through travel, in which I had quitted Solignac. Clearly that was Monsieur de Commines' cynic response to my challenge of the night before, and was in itself a challenge.
Seek Mademoiselle, will you! he said in his heart, grimly jesting, then seek her beggar-fashion, and if your tongue asks no hire for your sword's service your rags will hint an importunity47. In the glimmering48 light of the Star of Flanders she may have taken you for a gentleman; go, if you will go, in the broad light of day, and let these rags speak for you!
But if he thought shame would turn me from my purpose, court life must, for once, have blunted his perception. I hold that a sweet kernel49 has no need to think shame of a rough shell, and from a quality in her voice, an impulse in her act, I guessed that Mademoiselle was not one to judge a man wholly by the outside. A true and noble womanliness had at all times rung through her pleading, and if that were not enough there was this, she had flung no scorn even on such a feeder on garbage as this Fran?ois Villon, until the man's foul mind hinted a license50. Then, indeed, her soul flashed out. "Will no man rid us of this wretch51!" It was the foul mind she scorned, and not the poverty peeping through his tatters. No! Monsieur de Commines' jest, so far from turning me from my purpose, confirmed me in it; I would have been ashamed to feel shamed that I dared not seek her face even in rags.
It was at the gate by which we had entered on the previous night I first learned that to lodge52 in a royal palace had its obligations as well as its honours, and that Monsieur de Commines had other arrows in this quiver besides that levelled at my self-conceit. One of the three or four on guard stopped me when I would have passed out.
"Your permit, Monsieur, if you please," said he, civilly enough.
"Permit? I have none," I answered. "I am lodging53 with Monsieur de Commines."
"Ah, I remember now. Monsieur has that droll54 of a Martin to follow him, and came in with Monsieur le Prince last night? As a form, Monsieur, I will send for my officer; will Monsieur wait?"
What could Monsieur do but wait, fretting55 and fuming56, for twenty minutes. Then a smooth-faced boy came, smiling, cordial, and full of words. Had Monsieur Hellewyl rested well? Were his lodgings57 to his mind? Was it his first visit to Paris? Had he seen—Pish! it was Monsieur Hellewyl this, Monsieur Hellewyl that, and I answering yes or no, like a country blockhead with a vocabulary of one syllable58. But when at last I got my plea in he shrugged his shoulders with a grimace59.
"Would you have Tristan hang me? How can I give passes from the Louvre? Let us go to the lieutenant60."
So from the east gate we went to the south, and as we crossed the angle of the court, the sun being above the walls, I felt like a half-plucked daw beside a parrot, so gaily61 plumed62 was he in silks and laces such as women love, and not a thread out of place. He said nothing, but the corner of his eye burned holes in my rags, and for the twitch63 of his mouth I could have shaken the life half out of him with exultant64 satisfaction.
The lieutenant of the southern gate was Monsieur de Commines' companion of the night before, limping slightly from a wound in the thigh65, and again my greeting was most cordial. There is no introduction like a common danger. But the whole Louvre seemed in league to make me welcome, nor could even my impatience66 resent such friendliness67 to one who was a stranger. My wound and his had to be enquired68 for, and for the first time I learned that we had received them in a scuffle in the streets. Such brawls69, it seemed, were of nightly occurrence, and I had to listen to a long complaint of how badly Paris was governed.
Then came the whole catechism over again; Had I slept? Was I rested? Did my wound still burn? Had that fire-eating weasel of mine been well cared for? And so on for a score of questions, all so kindly70, so genial71, so courteous72, that I would have been a Flemish clod indeed to have cut them short.
But at last he asked:
"Now, what can I do for you?"
"Give me leave to pass the gates."
"What! You want fresh adventures?" he answered gaily, "then we must go to the captain."
He, it seemed, was on guard at the west gate, and there the comedy played itself for another half-hour. If his cordiality was colder, it was because age, in grizzling his beard, had chilled his exuberance73, but it seemed none the less sincere. I must breakfast with him. What? I had breakfasted? Then I must try the King's wine, and for ten minutes we talked vintages, the thing, next to women and their own doings, on which men love best to gossip. Then, at last, came the belated request.
"So, so, Monsieur Hellewyl? But for that we we must go to the Governor."
"Dame," said I pettishly74. "It seems as hard for a man to get out of the Louvre as for most to get in."
"You are wrong," he answered, looking me straight in the eyes; "a simple word does it, Monsieur; one word, a simple promise."
It was then, so drily significant was the tone, that I began to understand the dance I was being led. Monsieur de Commines had no intention that I should leave the Louvre. No doubt the Governor would have to appeal to the Chancellor75, the Chancellor to the King, and the King was at Plessis les Tours. Or it might be they would refer the momentous76 question to Monseigneur himself! Was he not the King's Commissioner77? To play the comedy further would be to play the fool.
"A single word?" said I and pausing turned back, "I think I have it, Monsieur! It is Commines, is it not?"
Promptly78 he also turned.
"You have a shrewd wit when you choose to use it," he answered, laying his hand on my shoulder. "Take an old soldier's advice and follow where it leads you."
That meant, Make your peace with Monseigneur; a thing not hard to do, for he met me as if I had just risen from my bed instead of having spent the better part of two good hours trying to out-manoeuvre him.
"You are come in good time, for we dine early," he cried, holding out both hands; "sit down, now, and let us make haste, for we leave Paris at noon:" nor through the meal, or at any time, did he hint displeasure. Only, when the servant, who at the close brought us water to wash our fingers, had left the room, he said suddenly:
"Do you know why I did it? For this reason, to teach you that a man who is on the King's service has neither love nor hate, pride nor pique79, no, nor even eyes or ears except for that service. It is a teaching you may have to follow before long."
Now it was my turn to hold out my hands, but with a different impulse.
"Forgive me, Monseigneur——"
"I forgave you even while I taught you," he answered, not letting me finish. "What? Am I so old that I cannot remember I was once young? And now I shall answer you the question you asked me last night; will you see Mademoiselle again? I think so—if the King wills."
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1
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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stewardship
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| n. n. 管理工作；管事人的职位及职责 | |
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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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curtness
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| n.简短；草率；简略 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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venial
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| adj.可宽恕的；轻微的 | |
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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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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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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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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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16
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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galls
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的第三人称单数 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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lairs
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| n.（野兽的）巢穴，窝( lair的名词复数 )；（人的）藏身处 | |
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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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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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39
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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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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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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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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46
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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49
kernel
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| n.(果实的)核，仁；(问题)的中心，核心 | |
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50
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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51
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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52
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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56
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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58
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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59
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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64
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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68
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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brawls
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| 吵架，打架( brawl的名词复数 ) | |
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70
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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72
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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73
exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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74
pettishly
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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76
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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77
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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