"_Per Bacco!_" cried the fellow; "it is my old pupil. Tall andstraight as a young poplar, here stands Monsieur Jean Servien!"It was no other than the Marquis Tudesco. His red waistcoat wasgone; instead he wore a sort of sleeved vest of coarse ticking,but his shining face, with the little round eyes and hooked nose,still wore the same look of merry, mischievous5 alertness thatwas so like an old parrot's.
Jean was surprised to see him, and not ill-pleased after all.
He greeted him affectionately and asked what he was doing now.
"Behold6!" replied the Marquis, "my business is to distributein the streets these advertisements of a local poisoner, andthereby to earn a place at the assassin's table to spread thefame of which I labour. Camoens held out his hand for charityin the streets of Lisbon. Tudesco stretches forth7 his in thebyways of the modern Babylon, but it is to give and not toreceive--lunches at 1 fr. 25, dinners at 1 fr. 75," and he offeredone of his bills to a passer-by, who strode on, hands in pockets,without taking it.
Thereupon the Marquis Tudesco heaved a sigh and exclaimed:
"And yet I have translated the _Gerusalemme Liberata_, themasterpiece of the immortal8 Torquato Tasso! But the brutal-mindedbooksellers scorn the fruit of my vigils, and in the empyreanthe Muse9 veils her face so as not to witness the humiliationinflicted on her nursling.""And what has become of you all the time since we last saw you?"asked the young man frankly10.
"God only knows, and 'pon my word! I think He has forgotten."Such was the Marquis Tudesco's oracular answer.
He tied up his bundle of papers in a cloth, and taking his pupil bythe arm, urged him in the direction of the _Rue Saint-Jacques_.
"See, my young friend," he said, "the dome11 of the Panthéon ishalf hidden by the fog. The School of Salerno teaches that thedamp air of evening is inimical to the human stomach. There isnear by a decent establishment where we can converse12 as twophilosophers should, and I feel sure your unavowed desire is toconduct your old instructor13 thither14, the master who initiatedyou in the Latin rudiments15."They entered a drinking-shop perfumed with so strong a reek16 ofkirsch and absinthe as took Servien's breath away. The room waslong and narrow, while against the walls varnished17 barrels withcopper taps were ranged in a long-drawn perspective that waslost in the thick haze18 of tobacco-smoke hanging in the air underthe gas-jets. At little tables of painted deal a number of menwere drinking; dressed in black and wearing tall silk hats,broken-brimmed and shiny from exposure to the rain, they sat andsmoked in silence. Before the door of the stove several pairsof thin legs were extended to catch the heat, and a thread ofsteam curled up from the toes of the owners' boots. A heavy torporseemed to weigh upon all this assemblage of pallid19, impassivefaces.
While Monsieur Tudesco was distributing hand-shakes to sundry20 oldacquaintances, Jean caught scraps21 of the conversation of those abouthim that filled him with a despairing melancholy--school ushersrailing at the cookery of cheap eating-houses, tipplers maunderingcontentedly to one another, enchanted22 at the profundity23 of theirown wisdom, schemers planning to make a fortune, politiciansarguing, amateurs of the fair sex telling highly-spiced anecdotesof love and women--and amongst it all this sentence:
"The harmony of the spheres fills the spaces of infinity24, andif we hear it not, it is because, as Plato says, our ears arestopped with earth."Monsieur Tudesco consumed brandy-cherries in a very elegant way.
Then the waiter served two dantzigs in little glass cups. Jeanadmired the translucent25 liquor dotted with golden sparkles, andMonsieur Tudesco demanded two more. Then, raising his cup onhigh:
"I drink to the health of Monsieur Servien, your venerable father,"he cried. "He enjoys a green and flourishing old age, at leastI hope so; he is a man superior to his mechanic and mercantilecondition by the benevolence26 of his behaviour to needy27 men ofletters. And your respected aunt? She still knits stockings withthe same zeal28 as of yore? At least I hope so. A lady of an austerevirtue. I conjecture29 you are wishing to order another dantzig,my young friend."Jean looked about him. The dram-shop was transfigured; the caskslooked enormous with their taps splendidly glittering, and seemedto stretch into infinity in a quivering, golden mist. But oneobject was more monstrously30 magnified than all the rest, andthat was the Marquis Tudesco; the old man positively31 toweredas huge as the giant of a fairy-tale, and Jean looked for himto do wonders.
Tudesco was smiling.
"You do not drink, my young friend," he resumed. "I conjectureyou are in love. Ah! love! love is at once the sweetest and thebitterest thing on earth. I too have felt my heart beat for awoman. But it is long years ago since I outlived that passion. Iam now an old man crushed under adverse32 fortune; but in happierdays there was at Rome a _diva_ of a beauty so magnificent anda genius so enthralling33 that cardinals34 fought to the death atthe door of her box; well, sir, that sublime35 creature I havepressed to my bosom36, and I have been informed since that with herlast sigh she breathed my name. I am like an old ruined temple,degraded by the passage of time and the violence of men's hands,yet sanctified for ever by the goddess."This tale, whether it recalled in exaggerated terms some commonplaceintrigue of his young days in Italy, or more likely was a purefiction based on romantic episodes he had read in novels, wasaccepted by Jean as authentic37 and vastly impressive. The effectwas startling, amazing. In an instant he beheld38, with all themiraculous clearness of a vision, there, standing39 between thetables, the queen of tragedy he adored; he saw the locks braidedin antique fashion, the long gold pendants drooping40 from eitherear, the bare arms and the white face with scarlet41 lips. Andhe cried aloud:
"I too love an actress."He was drinking, never heeding42 what the liquor was; but lo! itwas a philtre he swallowed that revivified his passion. Then atorrent of words rose flooding to his lips. The plays he hadseen, _Cinna, Bajazet_, the stern beauty of émilie, thesweet ferocity of Roxana, the sight of the actress cloaked invelvet, her face shining so pale and clear in the darkness, hislongings, his hopes, his undying love, he recounted everythingwith cries and tears.
Monsieur Tudesco heard him out, lapping up a glass of Chartreusedrop by drop the while, and taking snuff from a screw of paper.
At times he would nod his head in approval and go on listeningwith the air of a man watching and waiting his opportunity. Whenhe judged that at last, after tedious repetitions and numberlessfresh starts, the other's confidences were exhausted43, he assumeda look of gravity, and laying his fine hand with a gesture asof priestly benediction44 on the young man's shoulder:
"Ah! my young friend," he said, "if I thought that what you feelwere true love... but I do not," and he shook his head and lethis hand drop.
Jean protested. To suffer so, and not to be really in love?
Monsieur Tudesco repeated:
"If I thought that this were true love... but I do not, so far."Jean answered with great vehemence45; he talked of death and plunginga dagger46 in his heart.
Monsieur Tudesco reiterated47 for the third time:
"I do not believe it is true love."Then Jean fell into a fury and began to rumple48 and tear at hiswaistcoat as if he would bare his heart for inspection49. MonsieurTudesco took his hands and addressed him soothingly50:
"Well, well, my young friend, since it _is_ true love you feel,I will help you. I am a great tactician51, and if King Carlo Albertohad read a certain memorial I sent him on military matters hewould have won the battle of Novara. He did not read my memorial,and the battle was lost, but it was a glorious defeat. How happythe sons of Italy who died for their mother in that thrice holybattle! The hymns52 of poets and the tears of women made enviabletheir obsequies. I say it: what a noble, what a heroic thingis youth! What flames divine escape from young bosoms53 to riseto the Creator! I admire above everything young folk who throwthemselves into ventures of war and sentiment with the impetuositynatural to their age."Tasso, Novara, and the _diva_ so beloved of cardinals mingledconfusedly in Jean Servien's heated brain, and in a burst ofsublime if fuddled enthusiasm he wrung54 the old villain's hand.
Everything had grown indistinct; he seemed to be swimming inan element of molten metal.
Monsieur Tudesco, who at the moment was imbibing55 a glass of kümmel,pointed to his waistcoat of ticking.
"The misfortune is," he observed, "that I am garbed56 like aphilosopher. How show myself in such a costume among elegantfemales? 'Tis a sad pity! for it would be an easy matter forme to pay my respects to an actress at an important theatre. Ihave translated the _Gerusalemme Liberata_, that masterpieceof Torquato Tasso's. I could propose to the great actress whomyou love and who is worthy57 of your love, at least I hope so, aFrench adaptation of the _Myrrha_ of the celebrated58 Alfieri.
What eloquence59, what fire in that tragedy! The part of Myrrhais sublime and terrible; she will be eager to play it. Meantime,you translate _Myrrha_ into French verse; then I introduce youwith your manuscript into the sanctuary60 of Melpomene, when youbring with you a double gift--fame and love! What a dream, oh!
fortunate young man!... But alas61! 'tis but a dream, for how shouldI enter a lady's boudoir in this rude and sordid62 guise63?"But the tavern64 was closing and they had to leave. Jean felt sogiddy in the open air he could not tell how he had come to loseMonsieur Tudesco, after emptying the contents of his purse intothe latter's hand.
He wandered about all night in the rain, stumbling through thepuddles which splashed up the mud in his face. His brains buzzedwith the maddest schemes, that took shape, jostled one another,and tumbled to pieces in his head. Sometimes he would stop towipe the sweat from his forehead, then start off again on hiswild way. Fatigue65 calmed his nerves, and a clear purpose emerged.
He went straight to the house where the actress lived, and fromthe street gazed up at her dark, shuttered windows; then, steppingup to the _porte-cochère_, he kissed the great doors.
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1
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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profundity
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| n.渊博；深奥，深刻 | |
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infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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needy
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| adj.贫穷的，贫困的，生活艰苦的 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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monstrously
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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enthralling
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| 迷人的 | |
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cardinals
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| 红衣主教( cardinal的名词复数 )； 红衣凤头鸟（见于北美，雄鸟为鲜红色）； 基数 | |
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35
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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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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40
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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42
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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43
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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44
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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45
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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47
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
rumple
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；n.褶纹，皱褶 | |
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49
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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51
tactician
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| n. 战术家, 策士 | |
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52
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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53
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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54
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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55
imbibing
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| v.吸收( imbibe的现在分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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56
garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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58
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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59
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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60
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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61
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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62
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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63
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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64
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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