The world that found its way to the mayor's table at this early period of the summer season was largely composed of the class that travels chiefly to amuse others. The commercial gentlemen in France, however, have the outward bearing of those who travel to amuse themselves. The selling of other people's goods—it is surely as good an excuse as any other for seeing the world! Such an occupation offers an orator1, one gifted in conversational2 talents—talents it would be a pity to see buried in the domestic napkin—a fine arena3 for display.
The French commercial traveller is indeed a genus apart; he makes a fetish of his trade; he preaches his propaganda. The fat and the lean, the tall and the little, the well or meanly dressed representatives of the great French houses who sat down to dine, as our neighbors or vis-à-vis, night after night, were, on the whole, a great credit to their country. Their manners might have been mistaken for those of a higher rank; their gifts as talkers were of such an order as to make listening the better part of discretion4.
Dining is always a serious act in France. At this inn the sauces of the chef, with their reputation behind them, and the proof of their real excellence5 before one, the dinner-hour was elevated to the importance of a ceremony. How the petty merchants and the commercial gentlemen ate, at first in silence, as if respecting the appeal imposed by a great hunger, and then warming into talk as the acid cider was passed again and again! What crunching6 of the sturdy, dark-colored bread between the great knuckles7! What huge helps of the famous sauces! What insatiable appetites! What nice appreciation8 of the right touch of the tricksy garlic! What nodding of heads, clinking of glasses, and warmth of friendship established over the wine-cups! At dessert everyone talked at once. On one occasion the subject of Gambetta's death was touched on; all the table, as one man, broke out into an effervescence of political babble9.
"What a loss! What a death-blow to France was his death!" exclaimed a heavy young man in a pink cravat10.
"If Gambetta had lived, Alsace and Lorraine would be ours now, without the firing of a gun!" added an elderly merchant at the foot of the table.
"Ah—h! without the firing of a gun they will come to us yet. I tell you, without the firing of a gun—unless we insist on a battle," explosively rejoined a fiery-hued little man sitting next to Monsieur Paul; "but you will see—we shall insist. There is between us and Germany an inextinguishable hate—and we must kill, kill, right and left!"
"Allons—allons!" protested the table, in chorus.
"Yes, yes, a general massacre11, that is what we want; that is what we must have. Men, women, and children—all must fall. I am a married man—but not a woman or a child shall escape—when the time comes," continued the fiery-eyed man, getting more and more ferocious12 as he warmed with the thought of his revenge.
"What a monster!" broke in Madame Le Mois, her deep base notes unruffled by the spectacle of her bloodthirsty neighbor's violence; "you—to bayonet a woman with a child in her arms!"
"I would—I would—"
"Then you would be more cruel than they were. They treated our women with respect."
There was a murmur13 of assenting14 applause, at this sentiment of justice, from the table. But the fiery-eyed man was not to be put down.
"Oh, yes, they were generous enough in '71, but I should remember their insults of 1815!"
"Ancienne histoire—?à" said the mère, dismissing the subject, with a humorous wink15 at the table.
"As you see," was Monsieur Paul's comment on the conversation, as we were taking our after-dinner stroll in the garden—"as you see, that sort of person is the bad element in our country—the dangerous element—unreasoning, revengeful, and ignorant. It is such men as he who still uphold hatreds16 and keep the flame alive. It is better to have no talent at all for politics—to be harmless like me, for instance, whose worst vice17 is to buy up old laces and carvings18."
"And roses—"
"Yes—that is another of my vices—to perpetuate19 the old varieties. They call me along our coast the millionnaire—of roses! Will you have a 'Marie Louise,' mademoiselle?"
The garden was as complete in its old time aspect as the rest of the inn belongings20. Only the older, rarer varieties of flowers and rose stalks had been chosen to bloom within the beautifully arranged inclosure. Citronnelle, purple irises21, fringed asters, sage22, lavender, rose-pêche, bachelor's-button, the d'Horace, and the wonderful electric fraxinelle, these and many other shrubs23 and plants of the older centuries were massed here with the taste of one difficult to please in horticultural arrangements. Our after-dinner walks became an event in our day. At that hour the press of the day's work was over, and Madame Mère or Monsieur Paul were always ready to join us for a stroll.
"For myself, I do not like large gardens," Monsieur Paul remarked, during one of these after-dinner saunters. "The monks24, in the old days, knew just the right size a garden should be—small and sheltered, with walls—like a strong arm about a pretty woman—to protect the shrubs and flowers. One should enter the garden, also, by a gate which must click as it closes—the click tickles25 the imagination—it is the sound henceforth connected with silence, with perfumes and seclusion26. How far away we seem now, do we not?—from the bustle27 of the inn court-yard—and yet I could throw a stone into it."
The only saunterers besides ourselves were the flamingo28, who, cautiously, timorously29 picked his way—as if he were conscious he was only a bunch of feathers hoisted30 on stilts31; the white parrot, who was wabbling across the lawn to a favorite perch32 in the leaves of a tropical palm; and the peacock, whose train had been spread with a due regard to effect across a bed of purple irises, with a view to annihilating33 the brilliancy of their rival hues34.
The bit of sky framed by these four garden walls always seemed more delicate in tone than that which covered the open court-yard. The birds in the bushes had moments of melodious35 outbursts they did not, apparently36, indulge in along the high-road. And what with the fading lights, the stars pricking37 their way among the palms, the scents38 of flowers, and the talk of a poet, it is little wonder that this twilight39 hour in the old garden was certain to be the most lyrical of the twenty-four.
点击收听单词发音
1 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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2 conversational | |
adj.对话的,会话的 | |
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3 arena | |
n.竞技场,运动场所;竞争场所,舞台 | |
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4 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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5 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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6 crunching | |
v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 );嘎吱作响;(快速大量地)处理信息;数字捣弄 | |
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7 knuckles | |
n.(指人)指关节( knuckle的名词复数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝v.(指人)指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 );(指动物)膝关节,踝 | |
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8 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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9 babble | |
v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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10 cravat | |
n.领巾,领结;v.使穿有领结的服装,使结领结 | |
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11 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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12 ferocious | |
adj.凶猛的,残暴的,极度的,十分强烈的 | |
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13 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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14 assenting | |
同意,赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
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15 wink | |
n.眨眼,使眼色,瞬间;v.眨眼,使眼色,闪烁 | |
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16 hatreds | |
n.仇恨,憎恶( hatred的名词复数 );厌恶的事 | |
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17 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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18 carvings | |
n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 );雕刻术;雕刻品;雕刻物 | |
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19 perpetuate | |
v.使永存,使永记不忘 | |
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20 belongings | |
n.私人物品,私人财物 | |
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21 irises | |
n.虹( iris的名词复数 );虹膜;虹彩;鸢尾(花) | |
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22 sage | |
n.圣人,哲人;adj.贤明的,明智的 | |
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23 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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24 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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25 tickles | |
(使)发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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26 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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27 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
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28 flamingo | |
n.红鹳,火烈鸟 | |
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29 timorously | |
adv.胆怯地,羞怯地 | |
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30 hoisted | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 stilts | |
n.(支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的)桩子,支柱( stilt的名词复数 );高跷 | |
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32 perch | |
n.栖木,高位,杆;v.栖息,就位,位于 | |
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33 annihilating | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的现在分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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34 hues | |
色彩( hue的名词复数 ); 色调; 信仰; 观点 | |
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35 melodious | |
adj.旋律美妙的,调子优美的,音乐性的 | |
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36 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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37 pricking | |
刺,刺痕,刺痛感 | |
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38 scents | |
n.香水( scent的名词复数 );气味;(动物的)臭迹;(尤指狗的)嗅觉 | |
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39 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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