Down below was a village, a white cluster of little wooden houses; this was the village of the bath houses. The hotels might have been monasteries2 deserted3 and abandoned, in obedience4 to a nod from Rome or from the home government. Not even a fisherman's net was spread a-drying, to stay the appetite with a sense of past favors done by the sea to mortals more fortunate than we. The whole face of nature was as indifferent as a rich relation grown callous5 to the voice of entreaty6. There was no more hope of man apparently7, than of nature, being moved by our necessity; for man, to be moved, must primarily exist, and he was as conspicuously9 absent on this occasion as Genesis proves him to have been on the fourth day of creation.
Meanwhile we sat still, and took counsel together. The chief of the council suddenly presented himself. It was a man in miniature. The masculine shape, as it loomed10 up in the distance, gradually separating itself from the background of villa1 roofs and casino terraces, resolved itself into a figure stolid11 and sturdy, very brown of leg, and insolent12 of demeanor—swaggering along as if conscious of there being a full-grown man buttoned up within a boy's ragged13 coat. The swagger was accompanied by a whistle, whose neat crispness announced habits of leisure and a sense of the refined pleasures of life; for an artistic14 rendering15 of an aria16 from "La Fille de Madame Angot" was cutting the air with clear, high notes.
The whistle and the brown legs suddenly came to a dead stop. The round blue eyes had caught sight of us:
"Ouid-a-a!" was this young Norman's salutation. There was very little trouser left, and what there was of it was all pocket, apparently. Into the pockets the boy's hands were stuffed, along with his amazement18; for his face, round and full though it was, could not hold the full measure of his surprise.
"We came over by boat—from Havre," we murmured meekly19; then, "Is there a cake-shop near?" irrelevantly20 concluded Charm with an unmistakable ring of distress21 in her tone. There was no need of any further explanation. These two hearty22 young appetites understood each other; for hunger is a universal language, and cake a countersign23 common among the youth of all nations.
"Until you came, you see, we couldn't leave the luggage," she went on.
The blue eyes swept the line of our boxes as if the lad had taken his afternoon stroll with no other purpose than to guard them. "There are eight, and two umbrellas. Soyez tranquille, je vous attendrai."
It was the voice and accent of a man of the world, four feet high—a pocket edition, so to speak, in shabby binding24. The brown legs hung, the next instant, over the tallest of the trunks. The skilful25 whistling was resumed at once; our appearance and the boy's present occupation were mere26 interludes, we were made to understand; his real business, that afternoon, was to do justice to the Lecoq's entire opera, and to keep his eye on the sea.
Only once did he break down; he left a high C hanging perilously27 in mid-air, to shout out "I like madeleines, I do!" We assured him he should have a dozen.
"Bien!" and we saw him settling himself to await our return in patience.
Up in the town the streets, as we entered them, were as empty as was the beach. Trouville might have been a buried city of antiquity28. Yet, in spite of the desolation, it was French and foreign; it welcomed us with an unmistakably friendly, companionable air. Why is it that one is made to feel the companionable element, by instantaneous process, as it were, in a Frenchman and in his towns? And by what magic also does a French village or city, even at its least animated29 period, convey to one the fact of its nationality? We made but ten steps progress through these silent streets, fronting the beach, and yet, such was the subtle enigma30 of charm with which these dumb villas31 and mute shops were invested, that we walked along as if under the spell of fascination32. Perhaps the charm is a matter of sex, after all: towns are feminine, in the wise French idiom, that idiom so delicate in discerning qualities of sex in inanimate objects, as the Greeks before them were clever in discovering sex distinctions in the moral qualities. Trouville was so true a woman, that the coquette in her was alive and breathing even in this her moment of suspended animation33. The closed blinds and iron shutters34 appeared to be winking35 at us, slyly, as if warning us not to believe in this nightmare of desolation; she was only sleeping, she wished us to understand; the touch of the first Parisian would wake her into life. The features of her fashionable face, meanwhile, were arranged with perfect composure; even in slumber36 she had preserved her woman's instinct of orderly grace; not a sign was awry37, not a window-blind gave hint of rheumatic hinges, or of shattered vertebrae; all the machinery38 was in order; the faintest pressure on the electrical button, the button that connects this lady of the sea with the Paris Bourse and the Boulevards, and how gayly, how agilely39 would this Trouville of the villas and the beaches spring into life!
The listless glances of the few tailors and cobblers who, with suspended thread, now looked after us, seemed dazed—as if they could not believe in the reality of two early tourists. A woman's head, here and there, leaned over to us from a high window; even these feminine eyes, however, appeared to be glued with the long winter's lethargy of dull sleep; they betrayed no edge of surprise or curiosity. The sun alone, shining with spendthrift glory, flooding the narrow streets and low houses with a late afternoon stream of color, was the sole inhabitant who did not blink at us, bovinely40, with dulled vision.
Half an hour later we were speeding along the roadway. Half an hour—and Trouville might have been a thousand miles away. Inland, the eye plunged41 over nests of clover, across the tops of the apple and peach trees, frosted now with blossoms, to some farm interiors. The familiar Normandy features could be quickly spelled out, one by one.
It was the milking-hour.
The fields were crowded with cattle and women; some of the cows were standing42 immovable, and still others were slowly defiling43, in processional dignity, toward their homes. Broad-hipped, lean-busted figures, in coarse gowns and worsted kerchiefs, toiled44 through the fields, carrying full milk-jugs; brass45 amphorae these latter might have been, from their classical elegance46 of shape. Ploughmen appeared and disappeared, they and their teams rising and sinking with the varying heights and depressions of the more distant undulations. In the nearer cottages the voices of children would occasionally fill the air with a loud clamor of speech; then our steed's bell-collar would jingle47, and for the children's cries, a bird-throat, high above, from the heights of a tall pine would pour forth48, as if in uncontrollable ecstasy49, its rapture50 into the stillness of this radiant Normandy garden. The song appeared to be heard by other ears than ours. We were certain the dull-brained sheep were greatly affected51 by the strains of that generous-organed songster—they were so very still under the pink apple boughs52. The cows are always good listeners; and now, relieved of their milk, they lifted eyes swimming with appreciative53 content above the grasses of their pasture. Two old peasants heard the very last of the crisp trills, before the concert ended; they were leaning forth from the narrow window-ledges of a straw-roofed cottage; the music gave to their blinking old eyes the same dreamy look we had read in the ruminating54 cattle orbs55. For an aeronaut on his way to bed, I should have felt, had I been in that blackbird's plumed56 corselet, that I had had a gratifyingly full house.
Meanwhile, toward the west, a vast marine57 picture, like a panorama58 on wheels, was accompanying us all the way. Sometimes at our feet, beneath the seamy fissures59 of a hillside, or far removed by sweep of meadow, lay the fluctuant mass we call the sea. It was all a glassy yellow surface now; into the liquid mirror the polychrome sails sent down long lines of color. The sun had sunk beyond the Havre hills, but the flame of his mantle60 still swept the sky. And into this twilight61 there crept up from the earth a subtle, delicious scent62 and smell—the smell and perfume of spring—of the ardent63, vigorous, unspent Normandy spring.
[Illustration: A VILLAGE STREET—VILLERVILLE]
Suddenly a belfry grew out of the grain-fields.
"Nous voici—here's Villerville!" cried lustily into the twilight our coachman's thick peasant voice. With the butt-end of his whip he pointed64 toward the hill that the belfry crowned. Below the little hamlet church lay the village. A high, steep street plunged recklessly downward toward the cliff; we as recklessly were following it. The snapping of our driver's whip had brought every inhabitant of the street upon the narrow sidewalks. A few old women and babies hung forth from the windows, but the houses were so low, that even this portion of the population, hampered65 somewhat by distance and comparative isolation66, had been enabled to join in the chorus of voices that filled the street. Our progress down the steep, crowded street was marked by a pomp and circumstance which commonly attend only a royal entrance into a town; all of the inhabitants, to the last man and infant, apparently, were assembled to assist at the ceremonial of our entry.
A chorus of comments arose from the shadowy groups filling the low doorways67 and the window casements68.
"Tiens—it begins to arrive—the season!"
"Two ladies—alone—like that!"
"Dame17! Anglaises, Américaines—they go round the world thus, à deux!"
"And why not, if they are young and can pay?"
"Bah! old or poor, it's all one—they're never still, those English!" A chorus of croaking69 laughter rattled70 down the street along with the rolling of our carriage-wheels.
Above, the great arch of sky had shrunk, all at once, into a narrow scallop; with the fields and meadows the glow of twilight had been left behind. We seemed to be pressing our way against a great curtain, the curtain made by the rich dusk that filled the narrow thoroughfare. Through the darkness the sinuous71 street and rickety houses wavered in outline, as the bent72 shapes of the aged73 totter74 across dimly-lit interiors. A fisherman's bare legs, lit by some dimly illumined interior; a line of nets in the little yards; here and there a white kerchief or cotton cap, dazzling in whiteness, thrown out against the black facades75, were spots of light here and there. There was a glimpse of the village at its supper—in low-raftered interiors a group of blouses and women in fishermen's rig were gathered about narrow tables, the coarse-featured faces and the seamed foreheads lit up by the feeble flame of candles that ended in long, thin lines of smoke.
"Ohé—Mère Mouchard!—des voyageurs!" cried forth our coachman into the darkness. He had drawn76 up before a low, brightly-lit interior. In response to the call a figure appeared on the threshold of the open door. The figure stood there for a long instant, rubbing its hands, as it peered out into the dusk of the night to take a good look at us. The brown head was cocked on one side thoughtfully; it was an attitude that expressed, with astonishingly clear emphasis, an unmistakable professional conception of hospitality. It was the air and manner, in a word, of one who had long since trimmed the measurement of its graciousness to the price paid for the article.
"Ces dames77 wished rooms, they desired lodgings78 and board—ces dames were alone?" The voice finally asked, with reticent79 dignity. "From Havre—from Trouville, par8 p'tit bateau!" called out lustily our driver, as if to furnish us, gratis80, with a passport to the landlady's not too effusive81 cordiality.
What secret spell of magic may have lain hidden in our friendly coachman's announcement we never knew. But the "p'tit bateau" worked magically. The figure of Mère Mouchard materialized at once into such zeal82, such effusion, such a zest83 of welcome, that we, our bags, and our coachman were on the instant toiling84 up a pair of spiral wooden stairs. There was quite a little crowd to fill the all-too-narrow landing at the top of the steep steps, a crowd that ended in a long line of waiters and serving-maids, each grasping a remnant of luggage. Our hostess, meanwhile, was fumbling85 at a door-lock—an obstinate86 door that refused to be wrenched87 open.
"Augustine—run—I've taken the wrong key. Cours, mon enfant, it is no farther away than the kitchen."
The long line pressed itself against the low walls. Augustine, a blond-haired, neatly-garmented shape, sped down the rickety stairs with the step of youth and a dancer; for only the nimble ankles of one accomplished88 in waltzing could have tripped as dexterously89 downward as did Augustine.
"How she lags! what an idiot of a child!" fumed90 Mère Mouchard as she peered down into the round blackness about which the curving staircase closed like an embrace. "One must have patience, it appears, with people made like that. Ah, tiens, here she comes. How could you keep ces dames waiting like this? It is shameful91, shameful!" cried the woman, as she half shook the panting girl, in anger. "If ces dames will enter,"—her voice changing at once to a caressing92 falsetto, as the door flew open, opened by Augustine's trembling fingers—"they will find their rooms in readiness."
The rooms were as bare as a soldier's barrack, but they were spotlessly clean. There was the pale flicker93 of a sickly candle to illumine the shadowy recesses94 of the curtained beds and the dark little dressing-rooms.
A few moments later we wound our way downward, spirally, to find ourselves seated at a round table in a cosy95, compact dining-room. Directly opposite, across the corridor, was the kitchen, from which issued a delightful96 combination of vinous, aromatic97 odors. The light of a strong, bright lamp made it as brilliant as a ball-room; it was a ball-room which for decoration had rows of shining brass and copper98 kettles—each as burnished99 as a jewel—a mass of sunny porcelain100, and for carpet the satin of a wooden floor. There was much bustling101 to and fro. Shapes were constantly passing and repassing across the lighted interior. The Mère's broad-hipped figure was an omniscient102 presence: it hovered103 at one instant over a steaming saucepan, and the next was lifting a full milk-jug or opening a wine-bottle. Above the clatter104 of the dishes and the stirring of spoons arose the thick Normandy voices, deep alto tones, speaking in strange jargon105 of speech—a world of patois106 removed from our duller comprehension. It was made somewhat too plain in this country, we reflected, that a man's stomach is of far more importance than the rest of his body. The kitchen yonder was by far the most comfortable, the warmest, and altogether the prettiest room in the whole house.
Augustine crossed the narrow entry just then with a smoking pot of soup. She was followed, later, by Mère Mouchard, who bore a sole au vin blanc, a bottle of white Burgundy, and a super-naturally ethereal soufflé. And an hour after, even the curtainless, carpetless bed chambers107 above were powerless to affect the luxurious108 character of our dreams.
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1
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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monasteries
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| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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irrelevantly
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| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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countersign
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| v.副署，会签 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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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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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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agilely
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| adv.敏捷地 | |
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bovinely
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| adj.牛的；关于牛的；迟钝的；笨拙的n.牛，牛科动物 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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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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defiling
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| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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ruminating
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| v.沉思( ruminate的现在分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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fissures
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| n.狭长裂缝或裂隙( fissure的名词复数 )；裂伤；分歧；分裂v.裂开( fissure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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totter
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| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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facades
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| n.（房屋的）正面( facade的名词复数 )；假象，外观 | |
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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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dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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effusive
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| adj.热情洋溢的；感情(过多)流露的 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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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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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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aromatic
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| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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102
omniscient
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| adj.无所不知的；博识的 | |
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103
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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patois
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| n.方言；混合语 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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