"A pleasant journey, Monsieur Blaise!" the citoyenne greeted him. "But, as you are going to paint landscapes, why don't you take Monsieur Brotteaux, who is a painter?"
"Well, well," said Jean Blaise, "will you come with us, citoyen Brotteaux?"
On being assured he would not be intruding4, Brotteaux, a man of a sociable5 temper and fond of all amusements, accepted the invitation.
The citoyenne élodie had climbed the four storeys to embrace the widow Gamelin, whom she called her good mother. She was in white from head to foot, and smelt7 of lavender.
An old two-horsed travelling berline stood waiting in the Place, with the hood8 down. Rose Thévenin occupied the back seat with Julienne Hasard. élodie made the actress sit on the right, took the left-hand place herself and put the slim Julienne between the two of them. Brotteaux settled himself, back to the horses, facing the citoyenne Thévenin; Philippe Dubois, opposite the citoyenne Hasard; évariste opposite élodie. As for Philippe Desmahis, he planted his athletic9 figure on the box, on the coachman's left, and proceeded to amaze that worthy10 with a traveller's tale about a country in America where the trees bore chitterlings and saveloys by way of fruit.
The citoyen Blaise, who was a capital rider, took the road on horseback, going on in front to escape the dust from the berline.
As the wheels rattled11 merrily over the suburban12 roads the travellers began to forget their cares, and at sight of the green fields and trees and sky, their minds turned to gay and pleasant thoughts. élodie dreamed she was surely born to rear poultry13 with évariste, a country justice, to help her, in some village on a river bank beside a wood. The roadside elms whirled by as they sped along. Outside the villages the peasants' mastiffs dashed out to intercept14 the carriage and barked at the horses, while a fat spaniel, lying in the roadway, struggled reluctantly to its feet; the fowls15 scattered16 and fled; the geese in a close-packed band waddled17 slowly out of the way. The children, with their fresh morning faces, watched the company go by. It was a hot day and a cloudless sky. The parched18 earth was thirsting for rain. They alighted just outside Villejuif. On their way through the little town, Desmahis went into a fruiterer's to buy cherries for the overheated citoyennes. The shop-keeper was a pretty woman, and Desmahis showed no signs of reappearing. Philippe Dubois shouted to him, using the nickname his friends constantly gave him:
"Ho there! Barbaroux!... Barbaroux!"
At this hated name the passers-by pricked19 up their ears and faces appeared at every window. Then, when they saw a young and handsome man emerge from the shop, his jacket thrown open, his neckerchief flying loose over a muscular chest, and carrying over his shoulder a basket of cherries and his coat at the end of a stick, taking him for the proscribed20 girondist, a posse of sansculottes laid violent hands on him. Regardless of his indignant protests, they would have haled him to the town-hall, had not old Brotteaux, Gamelin, and the three young women borne testimony21 that the citoyen was named Philippe Desmahis, a copper-plate engraver22 and a good Jacobin. Even then the suspect had to show his carte de civisme, which he had in his pocket by great good luck, for he was very heedless in such matters. At this price he escaped from the hands of these patriotic23 villagers without worse loss than one of his lace ruffles24, which had been torn off; but this was a trifle after all. He even received the apologies of the National Guards who had hustled25 him the most savagely26 and who now spoke27 of carrying him in triumph to the H?tel de Ville.
A free man again and with the citoyennes élodie, Rose, and Julienne crowding round him, Desmahis looked at Philippe Dubois—he did not like the man and suspected him of having played him a practical joke—with a wry28 smile, and towering above him by a whole head:
"Dubois," he told him, "if you call me Barbaroux again, I shall call you Brissot; he is a little fat man with a silly face, greasy29 hair, an oily skin and damp hands. They'll be perfectly30 sure you are the infamous31 Brissot, the people's enemy; and the good Republicans, filled with horror and loathing32 at sight of you, will hang you from the nearest lamp-post. You hear me?"
The citoyen Blaise, who had been watering his horse, announced that he had arranged the affair, though it was quite plain to everybody that it had been arranged without him.
The company got in again, and as they drove on, Desmahis informed the coachman that in this same plain of Longjumeau several inhabitants of the Moon had once come down, in shape and colour much like frogs, only very much bigger. Philippe Dubois and Gamelin talked about their art. Dubois, a pupil of Regnault, had been to Rome, where he had seen Raphael's tapestries33, which he set above all the masterpieces of the world. He admired Correggio's colouring, Annibale Caracci's invention, Domenichino's drawing, but thought nothing comparable in point of style with the pictures of Pompeio Battoni. He had been in touch at Rome with Monsieur Ménageot and Madame Lebrun, who had both pronounced against the Revolution; so the less said of them the better. But he spoke highly of Angelica Kauffmann, who had a pure taste and a fine knowledge of the Antique.
Gamelin deplored35 that the apogee36 of French painting, belated as it was, for it only dated from Lesueur, Claude and Poussin and corresponded with the decadence37 of the Italian and Flemish schools, had been succeeded by so rapid and profound a decline. This he attributed to the degraded state of manners and to the Academy, which was the expression of that state. But the Academy had been happily abolished, and under the influence of new canons, David and his school were creating an art worthy of a free people. Among the young painters, Gamelin, without a trace of envy, gave the first place to Hennequin and Topino-Lebrun. Philippe Dubois preferred his own master Regnault to David, and founded his hopes for the future of painting on that rising artist Gérard.
Meantime élodie complimented the citoyenne Thévenin on her red velvet38 toque and white gown. The actress repaid the compliment by congratulating her two companions on their toilets and advising them how to do better still; the thing, she said, was to be more sparing in ornaments39 and trimmings.
"A woman can never be dressed too simply," was her dictum. "We see this on the stage, where the costume should allow every pose to be appreciated. That is its true beauty and it needs no other."
"You are right, my dear," replied élodie. "Only there is nothing more expensive in dress than simplicity42. It is not always out of bad taste we add frills and furbelows; sometimes it is to save our pockets."
"So many women disfigure themselves through following the fashion!" declared Rose Thévenin. "In dressing44 every woman should study her own figure."
"There is nothing beautiful save draperies that follow the lines of the figure and fall in folds," put in Gamelin. "Everything that is cut out and sewn is hideous45."
These sentiments, more appropriate in a treatise46 of Winckelmann's than in the mouth of a man talking to Parisiennes, met with the scorn they deserved, being entirely disregarded.
"For the winter," observed élodie, "they are making quilted gowns in Lapland style of taffeta and muslin, and coats à la Zulime, round-waisted and opening over a stomacher à la Turque."
"Nasty cheap things," declared the actress, "you can buy them ready made. Now I have a little seamstress who works like an angel and is not dear; I'll send her to see you, my dear."
So they prattled47 on trippingly, eagerly discussing and appraising48 different fine fabrics—striped taffeta, self-coloured china silk, muslin, gauze, nankeen.
And old Brotteaux, as he listened to them, thought with a pensive41 pleasure of these veils that hide women's charms and change incessantly,—how they last for a few years to be renewed eternally like the flowers of the field. And his eyes, as they wandered from the three pretty women to the cornflowers and the poppies in the wheat, were wet with smiling tears.
They reached Orangis about nine o'clock and stopped before the inn, the Auberge de la Cloche, where the Poitrines, husband and wife, offered accommodation for man and beast. The citoyen Blaise, who had repaired any disorder49 in his dress, helped the citoyennes to alight. After ordering dinner for midday, they all set off, preceded by their paintboxes, drawing-boards, easels, and parasols, which were carried by a village lad, for the meadows near the confluence50 of the Orge and the Yvette, a charming bit of country giving a view over the verdant51 plain of Longjumeau and bounded by the Seine and the woods of Sainte-Geneviève.
Jean Blaise, the leader of the troop of artists, was bandying funny stories with the ci-devant financier, tales that brought in without rhyme or reason Verboquet the Open-handed, Catherine Cuissot the pedlar, the demoiselles Chaudron, the fortune-teller Galichet, as well as characters of a later time like Cadet-Rousselle and Madame Angot.
évariste, inspired with a sudden love of nature, as he saw a troop of harvesters binding53 their sheaves, felt the tears rise to his eyes, while visions of concord54 and affection filled his heart. For his part, Desmahis was blowing the light down of the seeding dandelions into the citoyennes' hair. All three loved posies, as town-bred girls always do, and were busy in the meadows plucking the mullein, whose blossoms grow in spikes55 close round the stem, the campanula, with its little blue-bells hanging in rows one above another, the slender twigs56 of the scented57 vervain, wallwort, mint, dyer's weed, milfoil—all the wild flowers of late summer. Jean-Jacques had made botany the fashion among townswomen, so all three knew the name and symbolism of every flower. As the delicate petals58, drooping59 for want of moisture, wilted60 in her hands and fell in a shower about her feet, the citoyenne élodie sighed:
"They are dying already, the poor flowers!"
All set to work and strove to express nature as they saw her; but each saw her through the eyes of a master. In a short time Philippe Dubois had knocked off in the style of Hubert Robert a deserted61 farm, a clump62 of storm-riven trees, a dried-up torrent63. évariste Gamelin found a landscape by Poussin ready made on the banks of the Yvette. Philippe Desmahis was at work before a pigeon-cote in the picaresque manner of Callot and Duplessis. Old Brotteaux who piqued64 himself on imitating the Flemings, was drawing a cow with infinite care. élodie was sketching65 a peasant's hut, while her friend Julienne, who was a colourman's daughter, set her palette. A swarm66 of children pressed about her, watching her paint, whom she would scold out of her light at intervals67, calling them pestering68 gnats69 and giving them lollipops70. The citoyenne Thévenin, picking out the pretty ones, would wash their faces, kiss them and put flowers in their hair. She fondled them with a gentle air of melancholy71, because she had missed the joy of motherhood,—as well as to heighten her fascinations72 by a show of tender sentiment and to practise herself in the art of pose and grouping.
She was the only member of the party neither drawing nor painting. She devoted73 her attention to learning a part and still more to charming her companions, flitting from one to another, book in hand, a bright, entrancing creature.
"No complexion74, no figure, no voice, no nothing," declared the women,—and she filled the earth with movement, colour and harmony. Faded, pretty, tired, indefatigable75, she was the joy of the expedition. A woman of ever-varying moods, but always gay, sensitive, quick-tempered and yet easy-going and accommodating, a sharp tongue with the most polished utterance76, vain, modest, true, false, delightful77; if Rose Thévenin enjoyed no triumphant78 success, if she was not worshipped as a goddess, it was because the times were out of joint79 and Paris had no more incense80, no more altars for the Graces. The citoyenne Blaise herself, who made a face when she spoke of her and used to call her "my step-mother," could not see her and not be subjugated81 by such an array of charms.
They were rehearsing Les Visitandines at the Théatre Feydeau, and Rose was full of self-congratulation at having a part full of "naturalness." It was this quality she strove after, this she sought and this she found.
"Then we shall not see 'Paméla'?" asked Desmahis.
The Théatre de la Nation was closed and the actors packed off to the Madelonnettes and to Pélagie.
"Do you call that liberty?" cried Rose Thévenin, raising her beautiful eyes to heaven in indignant protest.
"The players of the Théatre de la Nation are aristocrats82, and the citoyen Fran?ois' piece tends to make men regret the privileges of the noblesse."
"Gentlemen," said Rose Thévenin, "have you patience to listen only to those who flatter you?"
As midday approached everybody began to feel pangs83 of hunger and the little band marched back to the inn.
évariste walked beside élodie, smilingly recalling memories of their first meetings:
"Two young birds had fallen out of their nests on the roof on to the sill of your window. You brought the little creatures up by hand; one of them lived and in due time flew away. The other died in the nest of cotton-wool you had made him. 'It was the one I loved best,' I remember you said. That day, élodie, you were wearing a red bow in your hair."
Philippe Dubois and Brotteaux, a little behind the rest, were talking of Rome, where they had both been, the latter in '72, the other towards the last days of the Academy. Brotteaux indeed had never forgotten the Princess Mondragone, to whom he would most certainly have poured out his plaints but for the Count Altieri, who always followed her like her shadow. Nor did Philippe Dubois fail to mention that he had been invited to dine with Cardinal84 de Bernis and that he was the most obliging host in the world.
"I knew him," said Brotteaux, "and I may add without boasting that I was for some while one of his most intimate friends; he had a taste for low society. He was an amiable85 man, and for all his affectation of telling fairy tales, there was more sound philosophy in his little finger than in the heads of all you Jacobins, who are for making us virtuous86 and God-fearing by Act of Parliament. Upon my word I prefer our simple-minded theophagists who know not what they say nor yet what they do, to these mad law-menders, who make it their business to guillotine us in order to render us wise and virtuous and adorers of the Supreme87 Being who has created them in His likeness88. In former days I used to have Mass said in the Chapel89 at Les Ilettes by a poor devil of a Curé who used to say in his cups: 'Don't let's speak ill of sinners; we live by 'em, we priests, unworthy as we are!' You must agree, sir, this prayer-monger held sound maxims90 of government. We should adopt his principles, and govern men as being what they are and not what we should like them to be."
Rose Thévenin had meantime drawn91 closer to the old man. She knew he had lived on a grand scale, and the thought of this gilded92 the ci-devant financier's present poverty, which she deemed less humiliating as being due to general causes, the result of the public bankruptcy93. She saw in him, with curiosity not unmixed with respect, the survival of one of those open-handed millionaires of whom her elder comrades of the stage spoke with sighs of unfeigned regret. Besides, the old fellow in his plum-coloured coat, so threadbare and so well brushed, pleased her by his agreeable address.
"Monsieur Brotteaux," she said to him, "we know how once upon a time, in a noble park, on moonlight nights, you would slip into the shade of myrtle groves94 with actresses and dancing-girls to the far-off shrilling95 of flutes96 and fiddles97.... Alas98! they were more lovely, were they not, your goddesses of the Opera and the Comédie-Fran?aise, than we of to-day, we poor little National actresses?"
"Never think it, Mademoiselle," returned Brotteaux, "but believe me, if one like you had been known in those days, she would have moved alone, as sovereign queen without a rival (little as she would have desired such solitude), in the park you are obliging enough to form so flattering a picture of...."
It was quite a rustic99 inn, this H?tel de la Cloche. A branch of holly100 hung over the great waggon101 doors that opened on a courtyard where fowls were always pecking about in the damp soil. On the far side of this stood the house itself, consisting of a ground floor and one storey above, crowned by a high-pitched tiled roof and with walls almost hidden under old climbing rose-trees covered with blossom. To the right, trimmed fruit-trees showed their tops above the low garden wall. To the left was the stable, with an outside manger and a barn supported by wooden pillars. A ladder leaned against the wall. Here again, under a shed crowded with agricultural implements102 and stumps103 of trees, a white cock was keeping an eye on his hens from the top of a broken-down cabriolet. The courtyard was enclosed on this side by cow-sheds, in front of which rose in mountainous grandeur104 a dunghill which at this moment a girl as broad as she was long, with straw-coloured hair, was turning over with a pitchfork. The liquid manure105 filled her sabots and bathed her bare feet, and you could see the heels rise out of her shoes every now and then as yellow as saffron. Her petticoats were kilted and revealed the filth106 on her enormous calves107 and thick ankles. While Philippe Desmahis was staring at her, surprised and tickled108 by the whimsicalities of nature in framing this odd example of breadth without length, the landlord shouted:
"Ho, there! Tronche, my girl! go fetch some water!"
She turned her head, showing a scarlet face and a vast mouth in which one huge front tooth was missing. It had needed nothing less than a bull's horn to effect a breach109 in that powerful jaw110. She stood there grinning, pitchfork on shoulder. Her sleeves were rolled up and her arms, as thick as another woman's thighs111, gleamed in the sun.
The table was laid in the farm kitchen, where a brace6 of fowls was roasting,—they were almost done to a turn,—under the hood of the open fireplace, above which hung two or three old fowling-pieces by way of ornament40. The bare whitewashed113 room, twenty feet long, was lighted only through the panes114 of greenish glass let into the door and by a single window, framed in roses, near which the grandmother sat turning her spinning-wheel. She wore a coif and a lace frilling in the fashion of the Regency. Her gnarled, earth-stained fingers held the distaff. Flies clustered about her lids without her trying to drive them away. As a child in her mother's arms, she had seen Louis XIV go by in his coach.
Sixty years ago she had made the journey to Paris. In a weak sing-song voice she told the tale to the three young women, standing115 in front of her, how she had seen the H?tel de Ville, the Tuileries and the Samaritaine, and how, when she was crossing the Pont-Royal, a barge116 loaded with apples for the Marché du Mail had broken up, the apples had floated down the current and the river was all red with the rosy-cheeked fruit.
She had been told of the changes that had occurred of late in the kingdom, and in particular of the coil there was betwixt the curés who had taken the oath and the nonjuring curés. She knew likewise there had been wars and famines and portents117 in the sky. She did not believe the King was dead. They had contrived118 his escape, she would have it, by a subterranean119 passage, and had handed over to the headsman in his stead a man of the common people.
At the old woman's feet, in his wicker cradle, Jeannot, the last born of the Poitrines, was cutting his teeth. The citoyenne Thévenin lifted the cradle and smiled at the child, which moaned feebly, worn out with feverishness121 and convulsions. It must have been very ill, for they had sent for the doctor, the citoyen Pelleport, who, it is true, being a deputy-substitute to the Convention, asked no payment for his visits.
The citoyenne Thévenin, an innkeeper's daughter herself, was in her element; not satisfied with the way the farm-girl had washed the plates and dishes, she gave an extra wipe to the crockery and glass, an extra polish to the knives and forks. While the citoyenne Poitrine was attending to the soup, which she tasted from time to time as a good cook should, élodie was cutting up into slices a four-pound loaf hot from the oven. Gamelin, when he saw what she was doing, addressed her:
"A few days ago I read a book written by a young German whose name I have forgotten, and which has been very well translated into French. In it you have a beautiful young girl named Charlotte, who, like you, élodie, was cutting bread and butter, and like you, cutting it gracefully122, and so prettily123 that at the sight the young Werther fell in love with her."
"And it ended in their marrying?" asked élodie.
"No," replied évariste; "it ended in Werther's death by violence."
They dined well, they were all very hungry; but the fare was indifferent. Jean Blaise complained bitterly; he was a great trencherman and made it a rule of conduct to feed well; and no doubt what urged him to elaborate his gluttony into a system was the general scarcity124. In every household the Revolution had overturned the cooking pot. The common run of citizens had nothing to chew upon. Clever folks like Jean Blaise, who made big profits amid the general wretchedness, went to the cookshop where they showed their astuteness125 by stuffing themselves to repletion126. As for Brotteaux who, in this year II of liberty, was living on chestnuts127 and bread-crusts, he could remember having supped at Grimod de la Reynière's at the near end of the Champs élysées. Eager to win the repute of an accomplished128 gourmand129 he reeled off, sitting there before Dame34 Poitrine's bacon and cabbages, a string of artful kitchen recipes and wise gastronomic130 maxims. Presently, when Gamelin protested that a Republican scorns the pleasures of the table, the old financier, always a lover of antiquity131, gave the young Spartan132 the true recipe for the famous black broth133.
After dinner, Jean Blaise, who never forgot business, set his itinerant134 academy to make studies and sketches135 of the inn, which struck him as quite romantic in its dilapidation136. While Philippe Desmahis and Philippe Dubois were drawing the cow-houses the girl Tronche came out to feed the pigs. The citoyen Pelleport, officer of health, who at the same moment appeared at the door of the farm kitchen where he had been bestowing137 his professional services on the Poitrine baby, stepped up to the artists and after complimenting them on their talents, which were an honour to the whole nation, pointed138 to the Tronche girl in the middle of her porkers:
"You see that creature," he said, "it is not one girl, it is two girls. I speak by the letter, understand that. I was amazed at the extraordinary massiveness of her bony framework and I examined her, to discover she had most of the bones in duplicate—in each thigh112 two femurs welded together, in each shoulder a double humerus. Some of her muscles are likewise in duplicate. It is a case, in my view, of a pair of twins associated or rather confounded together. It is an interesting phenomenon. I notified Monsieur Saint-Hilaire of the facts, and he thanked me. It is a monster you see before you, citoyens. The people here call her 'the girl Tronche'; they should say 'the girls Tronches,' for there are two of them. Nature has these freaks.... Good evening, citoyens; we shall have a storm to-night...."
After supper by candle-light, the Academy Blaise adjourned139 to the courtyard where they were joined by a son and daughter of the house in a game of blindman's-buff, in which the young folks, both men and women, displayed a feverish120 energy sufficiently140 accounted for by the high spirits proper to their age without seeking an explanation in the wild and precarious141 times in which they lived. When it was quite dark, Jean Blaise proposed children's games in the farm kitchen. élodie suggested the game of "hunt my heart," and this was agreed to unanimously. Under the girl's direction Philippe Desmahis traced in chalk, on different pieces of furniture, on doors and walls, seven hearts, that is to say one less than there were players, for old Brotteaux had obligingly joined the rest. They danced round in a ring singing "La Tour, prends garde!" and at a signal from élodie, each ran to put a hand on a heart. Gamelin in his absent-minded clumsiness was too late to find one vacant, and had to pay a forfeit142, the little knife he had bought for six sous at the fair of Saint-Germain and with which he had cut the loaf for his mother in her poverty. The game went on, and one after the other Blaise, élodie, Brotteaux and Rose Thévenin failed to touch a heart; each paid a forfeit in turn—a ring, a reticule, a little morocco-bound book, a bracelet143. Then the forfeits144 were raffled145 on élodie's lap, and each player had to redeem146 his property by showing his society accomplishments—singing a song or reciting a poem. Brotteaux chose the speech of the patron saint of France in the first canto147 of the Pucelle:
"Je suis Denis et saint de mon métier,
J'aime la Gaule,..."[2]
The citoyen Blaise, though a far less well-read man, replied without hesitation148 with Richemond's ripost:
"Monsieur le Saint, ce n'était pas la peine
D'abandonner le céleste domaine...."[3]
At that time everybody was reading and re-reading with delight the masterpiece of the French Ariosto; the most serious of men smiled over the loves of Jeanne and Dunois, the adventures of Agnès and Monrose and the exploits of the winged ass2. Every man of cultivation149 knew by heart the choice passages of this diverting and philosophical150 poem. évariste Gamelin himself, stern-tempered as he was, when he recovered his twopenny knife from élodie's lap, recited the going down of Grisbourdon into hell, with a good deal of spirit. The citoyenne Thévenin sang without accompaniment Nina's ballad151:
"Quand le bien-aimé reviendra."
"Quelques-uns prirent le cochon
De ce bon saint Antoine,
Et lui mettant un capuchon,
Ils en firent un moine.
Il n'en co?tait que la fa?on...."[4]
All the same Desmahis was in a pensive mood. For the moment he was ardently153 in love with all the three women with whom he was playing forfeits, and was casting burning looks of soft appeal at each in turn. He loved Rose Thévenin for her grace, her supple154 figure, her clever acting155, her roving glances, and her voice that went straight to a man's heart; he loved élodie, because he recognized instinctively156 her rich endowment of temperament157 and her kind, complaisant158 humour; he loved Julienne Hasard, despite her colourless hair, her pale eyelashes, her freckles159 and her thin bust160, because, like Dunois in Voltaire's Pucelle, he was always ready, in his generosity161, to give the least engaging a token of love—and the more so in this instance because she appeared to be for the moment the most neglected, and therefore the most amenable162 to his attentions. Without a trace of vanity, he was never sure of these being agreeable; nor yet was he ever sure of their not being. So he never omitted to offer them on the chance. Taking advantage of the opportunities offered by the game of forfeits, he made some tender speeches to Rose Thévenin, who showed no displeasure, but could hardly say much in return under the jealous eyes of the citoyen Jean Blaise. He spoke more warmly still to the citoyenne élodie, whom he knew to be pledged to Gamelin, but he was not so exacting163 as to want a heart all to himself. élodie could never care for him; but she thought him a handsome fellow and did not altogether succeed in hiding the fact from him. Finally, he whispered his most ardent152 vows164 in the ear of the citoyenne Hasard, which she received with an air of bewildered stupefaction that might equally express abject165 submission166 or chill indifference167. And Desmahis did not believe she was indifferent to him.
The inn contained only two bedrooms, both on the first floor and opening on the same landing. That to the left, the better of the two, boasted a flowered paper and a looking-glass the size of a man's hand, the gilt168 frame of which had been blackened by generations of flies since the days when Louis XIV was a child. In it, under sprigged muslin curtains, stood two beds with down pillows, coverlets and counterpanes. This room was reserved for the three citoyennes.
When the time came to retire, Desmahis and the citoyenne Hasard, each holding a bedroom candlestick, wished each other good-night on the landing. The amorous169 engraver quickly passed a note to the colourman's daughter, beseeching170 her to come to him, when everybody was asleep, in the garret, which was over the citoyennes' chamber171.
With judicious172 foresight173, he had taken care in the course of the day to study the lie of the land and explore the garret in question, which was full of strings174 of onions, apples and pears left there to ripen175 with a swarm of wasps176 crawling over them, chests and old trunks. He had even noticed an old bed of sacking, decrepit177 and now disused, as far as he could see, and a palliasse, all ripped up and jumping with fleas178.
Facing the citoyennes' room was another of very modest dimensions containing three beds, where the men of the party were to sleep, in such comfort as they might. But Brotteaux, who was a Sybarite, betook himself to the barn to sleep among the hay. As for Jean Blaise, he had disappeared. Dubois and Gamelin were soon asleep. Desmahis went to bed; but no sooner had the silence of night, like a stagnant179 pool, enveloped180 the house, than the engraver got up and climbed the wooden staircase, which creaked under his bare feet. The door of the garret stood ajar. From within came a breath of stifling181 hot air, mingled182 with the acrid183 smell of rotting fruit. On the broken-down bed of sacking lay the girl Tronche, fast asleep with her mouth open.
Desmahis returned to his room, where he slept soundly and peacefully till daybreak.
On the morrow, after a last day's work, the itinerant Academy took the road back to Paris. When Jean Blaise paid mine host in assignats, the citoyen Poitrine complained bitterly that he never saw what he called "square money" nowadays, and promised a fine candle to the beggar who'd bring back the "yellow boys" again.
He offered the citoyennes their pick of flowers. At his orders, the girl Tronche mounted on a ladder in her sabots and kilted skirts, giving a full view of her noble, much-bespattered calves, and was indefatigable in cutting blossoms from the climbing roses that covered the wall. From her huge hands the flowers fell in showers, in torrents185, in avalanches186, into the laps of élodie, Julienne, and Rose Thévenin, who held out their skirts to catch them. The carriage was full of them. The whole party, when they got back at nightfall, carried armfuls home, and their sleeping and waking were perfumed with their fragrance187.
FOOTNOTES:
[2]
"I am Denis, and sainthood is my trade,
I love the land of Gaul,... etc."
[3]
"Well, well, sir Saint, 'twas hardly worth your pains
[4]
"Some ribalds took the pig,
Of the good St. Anthony,
And clapping a cowl on's head,
'Twas all a matter of dress...."
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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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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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3
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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4
intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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5
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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6
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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8
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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13
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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14
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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15
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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16
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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17
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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19
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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20
proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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22
engraver
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| n.雕刻师，雕工 | |
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23
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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24
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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25
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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26
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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27
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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28
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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29
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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30
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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31
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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32
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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33
tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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35
deplored
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
apogee
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| n.远地点；极点；顶点 | |
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37
decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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38
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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39
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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40
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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41
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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42
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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43
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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44
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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45
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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46
treatise
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| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
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47
prattled
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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48
appraising
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| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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49
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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50
confluence
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| n.汇合，聚集 | |
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51
verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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52
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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53
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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54
concord
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| n.和谐；协调 | |
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55
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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56
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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57
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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58
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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59
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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60
wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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62
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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63
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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64
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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65
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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66
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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67
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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68
pestering
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的现在分词 ) | |
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69
gnats
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| n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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70
lollipops
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| n.棒糖，棒棒糖( lollipop的名词复数 )；（用交通指挥牌让车辆暂停以便儿童安全通过马路的）交通纠察 | |
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71
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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72
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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73
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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74
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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75
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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76
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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77
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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78
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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79
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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80
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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81
subjugated
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| v.征服，降伏( subjugate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
aristocrats
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| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
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83
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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84
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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85
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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86
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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87
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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88
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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89
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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90
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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91
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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92
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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93
bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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94
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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95
shrilling
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的现在分词 )； 凄厉 | |
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96
flutes
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| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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97
fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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98
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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99
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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100
holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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101
waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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102
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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103
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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104
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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105
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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106
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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107
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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108
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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109
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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110
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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111
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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112
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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113
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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115
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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116
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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117
portents
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| n.预兆( portent的名词复数 )；征兆；怪事；奇物 | |
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118
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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119
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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120
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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121
feverishness
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122
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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123
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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124
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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125
astuteness
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| n.敏锐；精明；机敏 | |
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126
repletion
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| n.充满，吃饱 | |
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127
chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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128
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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129
gourmand
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| n.嗜食者 | |
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gastronomic
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| adj.美食（烹饪）法的，烹任学的 | |
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131
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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133
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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itinerant
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| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
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135
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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136
dilapidation
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| n.倒塌；毁坏 | |
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137
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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adjourned
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| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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141
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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144
forfeits
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| 罚物游戏 | |
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145
raffled
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| v.以抽彩方式售（物）( raffle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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canto
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| n.长篇诗的章 | |
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148
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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149
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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154
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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155
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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157
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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complaisant
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| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
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159
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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amenable
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| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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166
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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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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168
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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169
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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170
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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171
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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173
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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174
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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175
ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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176
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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177
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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178
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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179
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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180
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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181
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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182
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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183
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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184
asterisks
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| n.星号，星状物( asterisk的名词复数 )v.加星号于( asterisk的第三人称单数 ) | |
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185
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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186
avalanches
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| n.雪崩( avalanche的名词复数 ) | |
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187
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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188
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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189
domains
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| n.范围( domain的名词复数 )；领域；版图；地产 | |
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190
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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191
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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