[Illustration: ON THE BEACH—VILLERVILLE]
The width of the sky overhanging this space was immense; not a scrap6, apparently7, was left over to cover, decently, the rest of the earth's surface—of that one was quite certain in looking at this vast inverted8 cup overflowing9 with ether. What there was of land was a very sketchy10 performance. Opposite ran the red line of the Havre headlands.
Following the river, inland, there was a pretence11 of shore, just sufficiently12 outlined, like a youth's beard, to give substance to one's belief in its future growth and development. Beneath these windows the water, hemmed13 in by this edge of shore, panted, like a child at play; its sighs, liquid, lisping, were irresistible14; one found oneself listening for the sound of them as if they had issued from a human throat. The humming of the bees in the garden, the cry of a fisherman calling across the water, the shout of the children below on the beach, or, at twilight15, the chorusing birds, carolling at full concert pitch; this, at most, was all the sound and fury the sea beach yielded.
The windows opening on the village street let in a noise as tumultuous as the sea was silent. The hubbub16 of a perpetual babble17, all the louder for being compressed within narrow space, was always to be heard; it ceased only when the village slept. There was an incessant18 clicking accompaniment to this noisy street life; a music played from early dawn to dusk over the pavement's rough cobbles—the click clack, click clack of the countless19 wooden sabots.
Part of this clamor in the streets was due to the fact that the village, as a village, appeared to be doing a tremendous business with the sea.
Men and women were perpetually going to and coming from the beach. Fishermen, sailors, women bearing nets, oars20, masts, and sails, children bending beneath the weight of baskets filled with kicking fish; wheelbarrows stocked high with sea-food and warm clothing; all this commerce with the sea made the life in these streets a more animated21 performance than is commonly seen in French villages.
In time, the provincial22 mania23 began to work in our veins24.
To watch our neighbors, to keep an eye on this life—this became, after a few days, the chief occupation of our waking hours.
The windows of our rooms fronting on the street were peculiarly well adapted for this unmannerly occupation. By merely opening the blinds, we could keep an eye on the entire village. Not a cat could cross the street without undergoing inspection26. Augustine, for example, who, once having turned her back on the inn windows, believed herself entirely27 cut off from observation, was perilously28 exposed to our mercy. We knew all the secrets of her thieving habits; we could count, to a second, the time she stole from the Mere25, her employer, to squander29 in smiles and dimples at the corner creamery. There a tall Norman rained admiration30 upon her through wide blue eyes, as he patted, caressingly31, the pots of blond butter, just the color of her hair, before laying them, later, tenderly in her open palm. Soon, as our acquaintance with our neighbors deepened into something like intimacy33, we came to know their habits of mind as we did their facial peculiarities34; certain of their actions made an event in our day. It became a serious matter of conjecture35 as to whether Madame de Tours, the social swell36 of the town, would or would not offer up her prayer to Deity37, accompanied by Friponne, her black poodle. If Friponne issued forth38 from the narrow door, in company with her austere39 mistress, the shining black silk gown, we knew, would not decorate the angular frame of this aristocratic provincial; a sober beige was best fitted to resist the dashes made by Friponne's sharply-trimmed nails. It was for this, to don a silk gown in full sight of her neighbors; to set up as companion a dog of the highest fashion, the very purest of caniches, that twenty years of patient nursing a paralytic41 husband—who died all too slowly—had been counted as nothing!
Once we were summoned to our outlook by the vigorous beating of a drum. Madame Mouchard and Augustine were already at their own post of observation—the open inn door. The rest of the village was in full attendance, for it was not every day in the week that the "tambour," the town-crier, had business enough to render his appearance, in his official capacity, necessary; as a mere townsman he was to be seen any hour of the day, as drunk as a lord, at the sign of "L'Ami Fidèle." His voice, as it rolled out the words of his cry, was as staccato in pitch as any organ can be whose practice is largely confined to unceasing calls for potations. To the listening crowd, the thick voice was shouting:
"Madame Tricot—à la messe—dimanche—a—perdu une broche—or et perles—avec cheveux—Madame Merle a perdu—sur la plage—un panier avec—un chat noir—"
We ourselves, to our astonishment42, were drummed the very next morning. Augustine had made the discovery of a missing shoulder-cape; she had taken it upon herself to call in the drummer. So great was the attendance of villagers, even the abstractors of the lost garment must, we were certain, be among the crowd assembled to hear our names shouted out on the still air. We were greatly affected43 by the publicity44 of the occasion; but the village heard the announcement, both of our names and of our loss, with the phlegm of indifference45. "Vingt francs pour avoir tambouriné mademoiselle!" This was an item which a week later, in madame's little bill, was not confronted with indifference.
"It gives one the feeling of having had relations with a wandering circus," remarked the young philosopher at my side.
"But it is really a great convenience, that system," she continued; "I'm always mislaying things—and through the drummer there's a whole village as aid to find a lost article. I shall, doubtless, always have that, now, in my bills!" And Charm, with an air of serene46 confidence in the village, adjusted her restored shoulder-cape.
Down below, in our neighbor's garden—the one adjoining our own and facing the sea—a new and old world of fashion in capes47 and other garments were a-flutter in the breeze, morning after morning. Who and what was this neighbor, that he should have so curious and eccentric a taste in clothes? No woman was to be seen in the garden-paths; a man, in a butler's apron48 and a silk skullcap, came and went, his arms piled high with gowns and scarves, and all manner of strange odds49 and ends. Each morning some new assortment50 of garments met our wondering eyes. Sometimes it was a collection of Empire embroidered51 costumes that were hung out on the line; faded fleur-de-lis, sprigs of dainty lilies and roses, gold-embossed Empire coats, strewn thick with seed-pearls on satins softened52 by time into melting shades. When next we looked the court of Napoleon had vanished, and the Bourbon period was, literally, in full swing. A frou-frou of laces, coats with deep skirts, and beribboned trousers would be fluttering airily in the soft May air. Once, in fine contrast to these courtly splendors53, was a wondrous55 assortment of flannel56 petticoats. They were of every hue—red, yellow, brown, pink, patched, darned, wide-skirted, plaited, ruffled—they appeared to represent the taste and requirement of every climate and country, if one could judge by the thickness of some and the gossamer57 tissues of others; but even the smartest were obviously, unmistakably, effrontedly, flannel petticoats.
It was a mystery that greatly intrigued58 us. One morning the mystery was solved. A whiff of tobacco from an upper window came along with a puff59 of wind. It was a heated whiff, in spite of the cooling breeze. It was from a pipe, a short, black pipe, owned by some one in the Mansard window next door. There was the round disk of a dark-blue beret drooping60 over the pipe. "Good—" I said to myself—"I shall see now—at last—this maniac61 with a taste for darned petticoats!"
The pipe smoked peacefully, steadily62 on. The beret was motionless. Between the pipe and the cap was a man's profile; it was too much in shadow to be clearly defined.
The next instant the man's face was in full sunlight. The face turned toward me—with the quick instinct of knowing itself watched—and then—
"Pas—possible!"
"You—here!"
"Been here a year—but you, when did you arrive? What luck! What luck!"
It was John Renard, the artist; after the first salutations question followed question.
"Are you alone?—"
"No."
"Is she—young?"
"Yes."
"Pretty?"
"Judge for yourself—that is she—in the garden yonder."
The beret dipped itself perilously out into the sky—to take a full view.
"Hem—I'll come in at once."
It was as a trio that the conversation was continued later, in the garden. But Renard was still chief questioner.
"Have you been out on the mussel-beds?"
"Not yet."
"We'll go this afternoon—Have you been to Honfleur? Not yet?—We'll go to-morrow. The tide will be in to-day about four—I'll call for you—wear heavy boots and old clothes. It's jolly dirty. Where do you breakfast?"
The breakfast was eaten, as a trio, at our inn, an hour later. It was so warm a day, it was served under one of the arbors. Augustine was feeding and caressing32 the doves as we entered the inn garden. At sight of Renard she dropped a quiet courtesy, smiles and roses struggling for a supremacy63 on her round peasant face. She let the doves loose at once, saying: "Allez, allez," as if they quite understood that with Monsieur Renard's advent64 their hour of success was at an end.
Why does a man's presence always seem to communicate such surprising animation65 to a woman—to any woman? Why does his appearance, for instance, suddenly, miraculously66 stiffen67 the sauces, lure68 from the cellar bottles incrusted with the gray of thick cobwebs, give an added drop of the lemon to the mayonnaise, and make an omelette to swim in a sea of butter? All these added touches to our commonly admirable breakfast were conspicuous69 that day—it was a breakfast for a prince and a gourmet70.
"The Mère can cook—when she gives her mind to it," was Renard's meagre masculine comment, as the last morsel71 of the golden omelette disappeared behind his mustache.
It was a gay little breakfast, with the circling above of the birds and the doves. There are duller forms of pleasure than to eat a repast in the company of an artist. I know not why it is, but it has always seemed to me that the man who lives only to copy life appears to get far more out of it than those who make a point of seeing nothing in it save themselves.
Renard, meanwhile, was taking pains to assure us that in less than a month the Villerville beaches would be crowded; only the artists of the brushes were here now; the artists of high life would scarcely be found deserting the Avenue des Acacias before June.
"French people are always coming to the seashore, you know—or trying to come. It's a part of their emotional religion to worship the sea. 'La mer! la mer!' they cry, with eyes all whites; then they go into little swoons of rapture—I can see them now, attitudinizing in salons72 and at tables-d'h?te!" To which comment we could find no more original rejoinder than our laughter.
It was a day when laughter was good; it put one in closer relations with the universal smiling. There are certain days when nature seems to laugh aloud; in this hour of noon the entire universe, all we could see of it, was on a broad grin. Everything moved, or danced, or sang; the leaves were each alive, trembling, quivering, shaking; the insect hum was like a Wagnerian chorus, deafening73 to the ear; there was a brisk, light breeze stirring—a breeze that moved the higher branches of the trees as if it had been an arm; that rippled74 the grass; that tossed the wavelets of the sea into such foam75 that they seemed over-running with laughter; and such was still its unspent energy that it sent the Seine with a bound up through its shores, its waters clanging like a sheet of mail armor worn by some lusty warrior76. We were walking in the narrow lane that edged the cliff; it was a lane that was guarded with a sentinel row of osiers, syringas, and laburnums. This was the guard of the cliffs. On the other side was the high garden wall, over which we caught dissolving views of dormer-windows, of gabled roofs, vine-clad walls, and a maze77 of peach and pear blossoms. This was not precisely78 the kind of lane through which one hurried. One needed neither to be sixteen nor even in love to find it a delectable79 path, very agreeable to the eye, very suggestive to the imaginative faculty80, exceedingly satisfactory to the most fastidious of all the senses, to that aristocrat40 of all the five, the sense of smell. Like all entirely perfect experiences in life, the lane ended almost as soon as it began; it ended in a steep pair of steps that dropped, precipitously, on the pebbles81 of the beach.
For some reason best known to the day and the view, we all, with one accord, proceeded to seat ourselves on the topmost step of this stairway. We were waiting for the tide to fall, to go out to the mussel-bed. Meanwhile the prospect82 to be seen from this improvised83 seat was one made to be looked at. There is a certain innate84 compelling quality in all great beauty. When nature or woman presents a really grandiose85 appearance, they are singularly reposeful86, if you notice; they have the calm which comes with a consciousness of splendor54. It is only prettiness which is tormented87 with the itching88 for display; and therefore this prospect, which rolled itself out beneath our feet, curling in a half-moon of beach, broadening into meadows that dropped to the river edge, lifting its beauty upward till the hills met the sky. and the river was lost in the clasp of the shore—this aspect of nature, in this moment of beauty, was as untroubled as if Chateaubriand had not found her a lover, and had flattered man by persuading him that,
"La voix de l'univers, c'est mon intelligence."
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1
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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2
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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3
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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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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6
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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7
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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8
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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10
sketchy
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| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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12
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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13
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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14
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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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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16
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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17
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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18
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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19
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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20
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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22
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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24
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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25
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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26
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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27
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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28
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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29
squander
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| v.浪费，挥霍 | |
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30
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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31
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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33
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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35
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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36
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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37
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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38
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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40
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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41
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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42
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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46
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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47
capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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50
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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51
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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52
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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53
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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54
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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55
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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58
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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59
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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60
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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61
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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62
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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64
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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65
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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66
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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67
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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68
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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69
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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70
gourmet
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| n.食物品尝家；adj.出于美食家之手的 | |
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71
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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72
salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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73
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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74
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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76
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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77
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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78
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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79
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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80
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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81
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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82
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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83
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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84
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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85
grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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86
reposeful
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| adj.平稳的，沉着的 | |
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87
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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88
itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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