Desiree had made all her own wedding-clothes. “Her poor little marriage-basket,” she called it. She had even made the cake which was now cut with some ceremony by her father.
“I tremble,” she exclaimed aloud, “to think what it may be like in the middle.”
And Mathilde was the only person there who did not smile at the unconscious admission. The cake was still under discussion, and the Grafin had just admitted that it was almost as good as that other cake which had been consumed in the days of Frederick the Great, when the servant called Desiree from the room.
“It is a soldier,” she said in a whisper at the head of the stairs. “He has a paper in his hand. I know what that means. He is quartered on us.”
Desiree hurried downstairs. In the entrance-hall, a broad-built little man stood awaiting her. He was stout1 and red, with hair all ragged2 at the temples, almost white. His eyes were lost behind shaggy eyebrows4. His face was made broader by little whiskers stopping short at the level of his ear. He had a snuff-blown complexion5, and in the wrinkles of his face the dust of a dozen campaigns seemed to have accumulated.
“Barlasch,” he said curtly7, holding out a long strip of blue paper. “Of the Guard. Once a sergeant8. Italy, Egypt, the Danube.”
He frowned at Desiree while she read the paper in the dim light that filtered through the twisted bars of the fanlight above the door.
“Papa Barlasch,” he added for her edification, and he drew down his left eyebrow3 with a jerk, so that it almost touched his cheek. His right eye, grey and piercing, returned her astonished gaze with a fierce steadfastness10.
“Does this mean that you are quartered upon us?” asked Desiree without seeking to hide her disgust. She spoke11 in her own tongue.
“French?” said the soldier, looking at her. “Good. Yes. I am quartered here. Thirty-six, Frauengasse. Sebastian; musician. You are lucky to get me. I always give satisfaction—ha!”
He gave a curt6 laugh in one syllable12 only. His left arm was curved round a bundle of wood bound together by a red pocket-handkerchief not innocent of snuff. He held out this bundle to Desiree, as Solomon may have held out some great gift to the Queen of Sheba to smooth the first doubtful steps of friendship.
Desiree accepted the gift and stood in her wedding-dress holding the bundle of wood against her breast. Then a gleam of the one grey eye that was visible conveyed to her the fact that this walnut-faced warrior13 was smiling. She laughed gaily14.
“It is well,” said Barlasch. “We are friends. You are lucky to get me. You may not think so now. Would this woman like me to speak to her in Polish or German?”
“Do you speak so many languages?”
He shrugged15 his shoulders and spread out his arms as far as his many burdens allowed. For he was hung round with a hundred parcels and packages.
“The Old Guard,” he said, “can always make itself understood.”
He rubbed his hands together with the air of a brisk man ready for any sort of work.
“Now, where shall I sleep?” he asked. “One is not particular, you understand. A few minutes and one is at home—perhaps peeling the potatoes. It is only a civilian16 who is ashamed of using his knife on a potato. Papa Barlasch, they call me.”
Without awaiting an invitation he went forward towards the kitchen. He seemed to know the house by instinct. His progress was accompanied by a clatter17 of utensils18 like that which heralds19 the coming of a carrier's cart.
At the kitchen door he stopped and sniffed20 loudly. There certainly was a slight odour of burning fat. Papa Barlasch turned and shook an admonitory finger at the servant, but he said nothing. He looked round at the highly polished utensils, at the table and floor both alike scrubbed clean by a vigorous northern arm. And he was kind enough to nod approval.
“On a campaign,” he said to no one in particular, “a little bit of horse thrust into the cinders21 on the end of a bayonet—but in times of peace...”
He broke off and made a gesture towards the saucepans which indicated quite clearly that he was between campaigns—inclined to good living.
“I am a rude fork,” he jerked to Desiree over his shoulder in the dialect of the Cotes du Nord.
“How long will you be here?” asked Desiree, who was eminently22 practical. A billet was a misfortune which Charles Darragon had hitherto succeeded in warding23 off. He had some small influence as an officer of the head-quarters' staff.
Barlasch held up a reproving hand. The question, he seemed to think, was not quite delicate.
“I pay my own,” he said. “Give and take—that is my motto. When you have nothing to give... offer a smile.”
With a gesture he indicated the bundle of firewood which Desiree still absent-mindedly carried against her white dress. He turned and opened a cupboard low down on the floor at the left-hand side of the fireplace. He seemed to know by an instinct usually possessed24 by charwomen and other domesticated25 persons of experience where the firewood was kept. Lisa gave a little exclamation26 of surprise at his impertinence and his perspicacity27. He took the firewood, unknotted his handkerchief, and threw his offering into the cupboard. Then he turned and perceived for the first time that Desiree had a bright ribbon at her waist and on her shoulders; that a thin chain of gold was round her throat and that there were flowers at her breast.
“A fete?” he inquired curtly.
“My marriage fete,” she answered. “I was married half an hour ago.”
He looked at her beneath his grizzled brows. His face was only capable of producing one expression—a shaggy weather-beaten fierceness. But, like a dog which can express more than many human beings, by a hundred instinctive28 gestures he could, it seemed, dispense29 with words on occasion and get on quite as well without them. He clearly disapproved30 of Desiree's marriage, and drew her attention to the fact that she was no more than a schoolgirl with an inconsequent brain, and little limbs too slight to fight a successful battle in a world full of cruelty and danger.
Then he made a gesture half of apology as if recognizing that it was no business of his, and turned away thoughtfully.
“I had troubles of that sort myself,” he explained, putting together the embers on the hearth31 with the point of a twisted, rusty32 bayonet, “but that was long ago. Well, I can drink your health all the same, mademoiselle.”
He turned to Lisa with a friendly nod and put out his tongue, in the manner of the people, to indicate that his lips were dry.
Desiree had always been the housekeeper33. It was to her that Lisa naturally turned in her extremity34 at the invasion of her kitchen by Papa Barlasch. And when that warrior had been supplied with beer it was with Desiree, in an agitated35 whisper in the great dark dining-room with its gloomy old pictures and heavy carving36, that she took counsel as to where he should be quartered.
The object of their solicitude37 himself interrupted their hurried consultation38 by opening the door and putting his shaggy head round the corner of it.
“It is not worth while to consult long about it,” he said. “There is a little room behind the kitchen, that opens into the yard. It is full of boxes. But we can move them—a little straw—and there!”
With a gesture he described a condition of domestic peace and comfort which far exceeded his humble39 requirements.
“The blackbeetles and I are old friends,” he concluded cheerfully.
“There are no blackbeetles in the house, monsieur,” said Desiree, hesitating to accept his proposal.
“Then I shall resign myself to my solitude,” he answered. “It is quiet. I shall not hear the patron touching40 on his violin. It is that which occupies his leisure, is it not?”
“Yes,” answered Desiree, still considering the question.
“I too am a musician,” said Papa Barlasch, turning towards the kitchen again. “I played a drum at Marengo.”
And as he led the way to the little room in the yard at the back of the kitchen, he expressed by a shake of the head a fellow-feeling for the gentleman upstairs, whose acquaintance he had not yet made, who occupied his leisure by touching the violin.
They stood together in the small apartment which Barlasch, with the promptitude of an experienced conqueror41, had set apart for his own accommodation.
“Those trunks,” he observed casually42, “were made in France”—a mental note which he happened to make aloud, as some do for better remembrance. “This solid girl and I will soon move them. And you, mademoiselle, go back to your wedding.”
“The good God be merciful to you,” he added under his breath when Desiree had gone.
She laughed as she mounted the stairs, a slim white figure amid the heavy woodwork long since blackened by time. The stairs made no sound beneath her light step. How many weary feet had climbed them since they were built! For the Dantzigers have been a people of sorrow, torn by wars, starved by siege, tossed from one conqueror to another from the beginning until now.
Desiree excused herself for her absence and frankly43 gave the cause. She was disposed to make light of the incident. It was natural to her to be optimistic. Both she and Mathilde made a practice of withholding44 from their father's knowledge the smaller worries of daily life which sour so many women and make them whine45 on platforms to be given the larger woes46.
She was glad to note that her father did not attach much importance to the arrival of Papa Barlasch; though Mathilde found opportunity to convey her displeasure at the news by a movement of the eyebrows.
Antoine Sebastian had applied47 himself seriously now to his role of host, so rarely played in the Frauengasse. He was courteous48 and quick to see a want or a possible desire of any one of his guests. It was part of his sense of hospitality to dismiss all personal matters, and especially a personal trouble, from public attention.
“They will attend to him in the kitchen, no doubt,” he said with that grand air which the dancing academy tried to imitate.
Charles hardly noted49 what Desiree said. So sunny a nature as his might have been expected to make light of a minor50 trouble, more especially the minor trouble of another. He was unusually thoughtful. Some event of the morning had, it would appear, given him pause on his primrose51 path. He glanced more than once over his shoulder towards the window, which stood open. He seemed at times to listen.
Suddenly he rose and went to the window. His action caused a brief silence, and all heard the clatter of a horse's feet and the quick rattle52 of a sword against spur and buckle53.
After a glance he came back into the room.
“Excuse me,” he said, with a bow towards Mathilde. “It is, I think, a messenger for me.”
And he hurried downstairs. He did not return at once, and soon the conversation became general again.
“You,” said the Grafin, touching Desiree's arm with her fan, “you, who are now his wife, must be dying to know what has called him away. Do not consider the 'convenances,' my child.”
Desiree, thus admonished54, followed Charles. She had not been aware of this consuming curiosity until it was suggested to her.
She found Charles standing55 at the open door. He thrust a letter into his pocket as she approached him, and turned towards her the face that she had seen for a moment when he drew her back at the corner of the Pfaffengasse to allow the Emperor's carriage to pass on its way. It was the white, half-stupefied face of one who has for an instant seen a vision of things not earthly.
“I have been sent for by the... I am wanted at head-quarters,” he said vaguely56. “I shall not be long...”
He took his shako, looked at her with an odd attempt to simulate cheerfulness, kissed her fingers and hurried out into the street.
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收听单词发音
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2
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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3
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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5
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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7
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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9
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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10
steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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11
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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12
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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13
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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16
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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17
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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18
utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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19
heralds
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| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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20
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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21
cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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22
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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23
warding
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| 监护，守护（ward的现在分词形式） | |
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24
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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domesticated
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| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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28
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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29
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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30
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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32
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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34
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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35
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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36
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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37
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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38
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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39
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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40
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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41
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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42
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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43
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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44
withholding
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| 扣缴税款 | |
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45
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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46
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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47
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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48
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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49
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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50
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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51
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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52
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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53
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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54
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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55
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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56
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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