But there is one mountain among them which can claim to rank with the Píc du Midi or the Maledetta. No one can pooh-pooh the stern old Canigou, standing7 high and solitary8, solemn and grand, between the two roads which run from Perpignan into Spain, the one by Prades and the other by Le Boulon. Under the Canigou, towards the west, lie the hot baths of Vernet, in a close secluded9 valley, which, as I have said before, is, as far as I know, the sweetest spot in these Eastern Pyrenees.
The frequenters of these baths were a few years back gathered almost entirely10 from towns not very far distant, from Perpignan, Narbonne, Carcassonne, and Bézières, and the baths were not therefore famous, expensive, or luxurious11; but those who believed in them believed with great faith; and it was certainly the fact that men and women who went thither12 worn with toil13, sick with excesses, and nervous through over-care, came back fresh and strong, fit once more to attack the world with all its woes14. Their character in latter days does not seem to have changed, though their circle of admirers may perhaps be somewhat extended.
In those days, by far the most noted15 and illustrious person in the village of Vernet was La Mère Bauche. That there had once been a Père Bauche was known to the world, for there was a Fils Bauche who lived with his mother; but no one seemed to remember more of him than that he had once existed. At Vernet he had never been known. La Mère Bauche was a native of the village, but her married life had been passed away from it, and she had returned in her early widowhood to become proprietress and manager, or, as one may say, the heart and soul of the H?tel Bauche at Vernet.
This hotel was a large and somewhat rough establishment, intended for the accommodation of invalids who came to Vernet for their health. It was built immediately over one of the thermal16 springs, so that the water flowed from the bowels17 of the earth directly into the baths. There was accommodation for seventy people, and during the summer and autumn months the place was always full. Not a few also were to be found there during the winter and spring, for the charges of Madame Bauche were low, and the accommodation reasonably good.
And in this respect, as indeed in all others, Madame Bauche had the reputation of being an honest woman. She had a certain price, from which no earthly consideration would induce her to depart; and there were certain returns for this price in the shape of déjeuners and dinners, baths and beds, which she never failed to give in accordance with the dictates18 of a strict conscience. These were traits in the character of an hotel-keeper which cannot be praised too highly, and which had met their due reward in the custom of the public. But nevertheless there were those who thought that there was occasionally ground for complaint in the conduct even of Madame Bauche.
In the first place she was deficient in that pleasant smiling softness which should belong to any keeper of a house of public entertainment. In her general mode of life she was stern and silent with her guests, autocratic, authoritative19 and sometimes contradictory20 in her house, and altogether irrational21 and unconciliatory when any change even for a day was proposed to her, or when any shadow of a complaint reached her ears.
Indeed of complaint, as made against the establishment, she was altogether intolerant. To such she had but one answer. He or she who complained might leave the place at a moment’s notice if it so pleased them. There were always others ready to take their places. The power of making this answer came to her from the lowness of her prices; and it was a power which was very dear to her.
The baths were taken at different hours according to medical advice, but the usual time was from five to seven in the morning. The déjeuner or early meal was at nine o’clock, the dinner was at four. After that, no eating or drinking was allowed in the H?tel Bauche. There was a café in the village, at which ladies and gentlemen could get a cup of coffee or a glass of eau sucré; but no such accommodation was to be had in the establishment. Not by any possible bribery22 or persuasion23 could any meal be procured24 at any other than the authorised hours. A visitor who should enter the salle à manger more than ten minutes after the last bell would be looked at very sourly by Madame Bauche, who on all occasions sat at the top of her own table. Should any one appear as much as half an hour late, he would receive only his share of what had not been handed round. But after the last dish had been so handed, it was utterly25 useless for any one to enter the room at all.
Her appearance at the period of our tale was perhaps not altogether in her favour. She was about sixty years of age and was very stout26 and short in the neck. She wore her own gray hair, which at dinner was always tidy enough; but during the whole day previous to that hour she might be seen with it escaping from under her cap in extreme disorder27. Her eyebrows28 were large and bushy, but those alone would not have given to her face that look of indomitable sternness which it possessed29. Her eyebrows were serious in their effect, but not so serious as the pair of green spectacles which she always wore under them. It was thought by those who had analysed the subject that the great secret of Madame Bauche’s power lay in her green spectacles.
Her custom was to move about and through the whole establishment every day from breakfast till the period came for her to dress for dinner. She would visit every chamber30 and every bath, walk once or twice round the salle à manger, and very repeatedly round the kitchen; she would go into every hole and corner, and peer into everything through her green spectacles: and in these walks it was not always thought pleasant to meet her. Her custom was to move very slowly, with her hands generally clasped behind her back: she rarely spoke31 to the guests unless she was spoken to, and on such occasions she would not often diverge32 into general conversation. If any one had aught to say connected with the business of the establishment, she would listen, and then she would make her answers,—often not pleasant in the hearing.
And thus she walked her path through the world, a stern, hard, solemn old woman, not without gusts33 of passionate34 explosion; but honest withal, and not without some inward benevolence35 and true tenderness of heart. Children she had had many, some seven or eight. One or two had died, others had been married; she had sons settled far away from home, and at the time of which we are now speaking but one was left in any way subject to maternal36 authority.
Adolphe Bauche was the only one of her children of whom much was remembered by the present denizens37 and hangers-on of the hotel, he was the youngest of the number, and having been born only very shortly before the return of Madame Bauche to Vernet, had been altogether reared there. It was thought by the world of those parts, and rightly thought, that he was his mother’s darling—more so than had been any of his brothers and sisters,—the very apple of her eye and gem38 of her life. At this time he was about twenty-five years of age, and for the last two years had been absent from Vernet—for reasons which will shortly be made to appear. He had been sent to Paris to see something of the world, and learn to talk French instead of the patois39 of his valley; and having left Paris had come down south into Languedoc, and remained there picking up some agricultural lore40 which it was thought might prove useful in the valley farms of Vernet. He was now expected home again very speedily, much to his mother’s delight.
That she was kind and gracious to her favourite child does not perhaps give much proof of her benevolence; but she had also been kind and gracious to the orphan41 child of a neighbour; nay42, to the orphan child of a rival innkeeper. At Vernet there had been more than one water establishment, but the proprietor43 of the second had died some few years after Madame Bauche had settled herself at the place. His house had not thrived, and his only child, a little girl, was left altogether without provision.
This little girl, Marie Clavert, La Mère Bauche had taken into her own house immediately after the father’s death, although she had most cordially hated that father. Marie was then an infant, and Madame Bauche had accepted the charge without much thought, perhaps, as to what might be the child’s ultimate destiny. But since then she had thoroughly44 done the duty of a mother by the little girl, who had become the pet of the whole establishment, the favourite plaything of Adolphe Bauche, and at last of course his early sweetheart.
And then and therefore there had come troubles at Vernet. Of course all the world of the valley had seen what was taking place and what was likely to take place, long before Madame Bauche knew anything about it. But at last it broke upon her senses that her son, Adolphe Bauche, the heir to all her virtues45 and all her riches, the first young man in that or any neighbouring valley, was absolutely contemplating46 the idea of marrying that poor little orphan, Marie Clavert!
That any one should ever fall in love with Marie Clavert had never occurred to Madame Bauche. She had always regarded the child as a child, as the object of her charity, and as a little thing to be looked on as poor Marie by all the world. She, looking through her green spectacles, had never seen that Marie Clavert was a beautiful creature, full of ripening47 charms, such as young men love to look on. Marie was of infinite daily use to Madame Bauche in a hundred little things about the house, and the old lady thoroughly recognised and appreciated her ability. But for this very reason she had never taught herself to regard Marie otherwise than as a useful drudge48. She was very fond of her protégée—so much so that she would listen to her in affairs about the house when she would listen to no one else;—but Marie’s prettiness and grace and sweetness as a girl had all been thrown away upon Maman Bauche, as Marie used to call her.
But unluckily it had not been thrown away upon Adolphe. He had appreciated, as it was natural that he should do, all that had been so utterly indifferent to his mother; and consequently had fallen in love. Consequently also he had told his love; and consequently also Marie had returned his love.
Adolphe had been hitherto contradicted but in few things, and thought that all difficulty would be prevented by his informing his mother that he wished to marry Marie Clavert. But Marie, with a woman’s instinct, had known better. She had trembled and almost crouched49 with fear when she confessed her love; and had absolutely hid herself from sight when Adolphe went forth50, prepared to ask his mother’s consent to his marriage.
The indignation and passionate wrath51 of Madame Bauche were past and gone two years before the date of this story, and I need not therefore much enlarge upon that subject. She was at first abusive and bitter, which was bad for Marie; and afterwards bitter and silent, which was worse. It was of course determined52 that poor Marie should be sent away to some asylum53 for orphans54 or penniless paupers—in short anywhere out of the way. What mattered her outlook into the world, her happiness, or indeed her very existence? The outlook and happiness of Adolphe Bauche,—was not that to be considered as everything at Vernet?
But this terrible sharp aspect of affairs did not last very long. In the first place La Mère Bauche had under those green spectacles a heart that in truth was tender and affectionate, and after the first two days of anger she admitted that something must be done for Marie Clavert; and after the fourth day she acknowledged that the world of the hotel, her world, would not go as well without Marie Clavert as it would with her. And in the next place Madame Bauche had a friend whose advice in grave matters she would sometimes take. This friend had told her that it would be much better to send away Adolphe, since it was so necessary that there should be a sending away of some one; that he would be much benefited by passing some months of his life away from his native valley; and that an absence of a year or two would teach him to forget Marie, even if it did not teach Marie to forget him.
And we must say a word or two about this friend. At Vernet he was usually called M. le Capitaine, though in fact he had never reached that rank. He had been in the army, and having been wounded in the leg while still a sous-lieutenant, had been pensioned, and had thus been interdicted55 from treading any further the thorny56 path that leads to glory. For the last fifteen years he had resided under the roof of Madame Bauche, at first as a casual visitor, going and coming, but now for many years as constant there as she was herself.
He was so constantly called Le Capitaine that his real name was seldom heard. It may however as well be known to us that this was Theodore Campan. He was a tall, well-looking man; always dressed in black garments, of a coarse description certainly, but scrupulously57 clean and well brushed; of perhaps fifty years of age, and conspicuous58 for the rigid59 uprightness of his back—and for a black wooden leg.
This wooden leg was perhaps the most remarkable60 trait in his character. It was always jet black, being painted, or polished, or japanned, as occasion might require, by the hands of the capitaine himself. It was longer than ordinary wooden legs, as indeed the capitaine was longer than ordinary men; but nevertheless it never seemed in any way to impede61 the rigid punctilious62 propriety63 of his movements. It was never in his way as wooden legs usually are in the way of their wearers. And then to render it more illustrious it had round its middle, round the calf64 of the leg we may so say, a band of bright brass65 which shone like burnished66 gold.
It had been the capitaine’s custom, now for some years past, to retire every evening at about seven o’clock into the sanctum sanctorum of Madame Bauche’s habitation, the dark little private sitting-room67 in which she made out her bills and calculated her profits, and there regale68 himself in her presence—and indeed at her expense, for the items never appeared in the bill—with coffee and cognac. I have said that there was never eating or drinking at the establishment after the regular dinner-hours; but in so saying I spoke of the world at large. Nothing further was allowed in the way of trade; but in the way of friendship so much was now-a-days always allowed to the capitaine.
It was at these moments that Madame Bauche discussed her private affairs, and asked for and received advice. For even Madame Bauche was mortal; nor could her green spectacles without other aid carry her through all the troubles of life. It was now five years since the world of Vernet discovered that La Mère Bauche was going to marry the capitaine; and for eighteen months the world of Vernet had been full of this matter: but any amount of patience is at last exhausted69, and as no further steps in that direction were ever taken beyond the daily cup of coffee, that subject died away—very much unheeded by La Mère Bauche.
But she, though she thought of no matrimony for herself, thought much of matrimony for other people; and over most of those cups of evening coffee and cognac a matrimonial project was discussed in these latter days. It has been seen that the capitaine pleaded in Marie’s favour when the fury of Madame Bauche’s indignation broke forth; and that ultimately Marie was kept at home, and Adolphe sent away by his advice.
“But Adolphe cannot always stay away,” Madame Bauche had pleaded in her difficulty. The truth of this the capitaine had admitted; but Marie, he said, might be married to some one else before two years were over. And so the matter had commenced.
But to whom should she be married? To this question the capitaine had answered in perfect innocence70 of heart, that La Mère Bauche would be much better able to make such a choice than himself. He did not know how Marie might stand with regard to money. If madame would give some little “dot,” the affair, the capitaine thought, would be more easily arranged.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
invalids
|
|
| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
deficient
|
|
| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
grandeur
|
|
| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
woes
|
|
| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
thermal
|
|
| adj.热的，由热造成的；保暖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
bowels
|
|
| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
dictates
|
|
| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
authoritative
|
|
| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
contradictory
|
|
| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
irrational
|
|
| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
bribery
|
|
| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
persuasion
|
|
| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
diverge
|
|
| v.分叉，分歧，离题，使...岔开，使转向 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
benevolence
|
|
| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
denizens
|
|
| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
gem
|
|
| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
patois
|
|
| n.方言；混合语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
lore
|
|
| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
ripening
|
|
| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
drudge
|
|
| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
orphans
|
|
| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
interdicted
|
|
| v.禁止（行动）( interdict的过去式和过去分词 )；禁用；限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
thorny
|
|
| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
scrupulously
|
|
| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
impede
|
|
| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
punctilious
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
calf
|
|
| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
burnished
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
regale
|
|
| v.取悦，款待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |