HE performance was over. Bouchotte in her dressing-room was taking off her make-up, when the door opened softly and old Monsieur Sandraque, her protector, came in, followed by a troop of her other admirers. Without so much as turning her head, she asked them what they meant by coming and staring at her like a pack of imbeciles, and whether they thought they were in a tent at the Neuilly Fair, looking at the freak woman.
"Now, then, ladies and gentlemen," she rattled1 on derisively2, "just put a penny in the box for the young lady's marriage-portion, and she'll let you feel her legs,—all made of marble!"
She sent them all packing, her sweetheart Théophile among them,—the pale-faced, long-haired, gentle, melancholy4, short-sighted, and dreamy Théophile.
But recognizing her little Maurice, she gave him[239] a smile. He approached her, and leaning over the back of the chair on which she was seated, congratulated her on her playing and singing, duly performing a kiss at the end of every compliment. She did not let him escape thus, and with reiterated5 enquiries, pressing solicitations, feigned6 incredulity, obliged him to repeat his stock panegyrics7 three or four times over, and when he stopped she seemed so disappointed that he was forced to take up the strain again immediately. He found it trying, for he was no connoisseur8, but he had the pleasure of kissing her plump curved shoulders all golden in the light, and of catching9 glimpses of her pretty face in the mirror over the toilet-table.
"You were delicious."
"Really?... you think so?"
"Adorable ... div——"
Suddenly he gave a loud cry. His eyes had seen in the mirror a face appear at the back of the dressing-room. He turned swiftly round, flung his arms about Arcade10, and drew him into the corridor.
But, pushing his way through a troop of performing dogs, and a family of American acrobats12, young d'Esparvieu dragged his angel towards the exit.
He hurried him forth13 into the cool darkness of the boulevard, delirious14 with joy and wondering whether it was all too good to be true.[240]
"Here you are!" he cried; "here you are! I have been looking for you a long time, Arcade,—or Mirar if you like,—and I have found you at last. Arcade, you have taken my guardian16 angel from me. Give him back to me. Arcade, do you love me still?"
Arcade replied that in accomplishing the super-angelic task he had set himself he had been forced to crush under foot friendship, pity, love, and all those feelings which tend to soften17 the soul; but that, on the other hand, his new state, by exposing him to suffering and privation, disposed him to love Humanity, and that he felt a certain mechanical friendship for his poor Maurice.
"Well, then," exclaimed Maurice, "if only you love me, come back to me, stay with me. I cannot do without you. While I had you with me I was not aware of your presence. But no sooner did you depart than I felt a horrible blank. Without you I am like a body without a soul. Do you know that in the little flat in the rue15 de Rome, with Gilberte by my side, I feel lonely, I miss you sorely, and long to see you and to hear you as I did that day when you made me so angry. Confess I was right, and that your behaviour on that occasion was not that of a gentleman. That you, you of so high an origin, so noble a mind, could commit such an indiscretion is extraordinary, when one comes to think about it.[241] Madame des Aubels has not yet forgiven you. She blames you for having frightened her by appearing at such an inconvenient18 moment, and for being insolent19 and forward while hooking her dress and tying her shoes. I, I have forgotten everything. I only remember that you are my celestial20 brother, the saintly companion of my childhood. No, Arcade, you must not, you cannot leave me. You are my angel; you are my property."
Arcade explained to young d'Esparvieu that he could no longer be guiding angel to a Christian21, having himself gone down into the pit. And he painted a horrible picture of himself; he described himself as breathing hatred22 and fury; in fact, an infernal spirit.
"All nonsense!" said Maurice, smiling, his eyes big with tears.
"Alas23! our ideas, our destiny, everything tends to part us, Maurice. But I cannot stifle24 the tenderness I feel for you, and your candour forces me to love you."
"No," sighed Maurice. "You do not love me. You have never loved me. In a brother or a sister such indifference25 would be natural; in a friend it would be ordinary; in a guardian angel it is monstrous26. Arcade, you are an abominable27 being. I hate you."
"I have loved you dearly, Maurice, and I still love you. You trouble my heart which I deemed[242] encased in triple bronze. You show me my own weakness. When you were a little innocent boy I loved you as tenderly and purely28 as Miss Kate, your English governess, who caressed29 you with so much fervour. In the country, when the thin bark of the plane trees peels off in long strips and discloses the tender green trunk, after the rains which make the fine sand run on the sloping paths, I showed you how with that sand, those strips of bark, a few wild flowers, and a spray of maidenhair fern to make rustic30 bridges, rustic shelters, terraces, and those gardens of Adonis, which last but an hour. During the month of May in Paris we raised an altar to the Virgin31, and we burnt incense32 before it, the scent33 of which, permeating34 all the house, reminded Marcelline, the cook, of her village church and her lost innocence35, and drew from her floods of tears; it also gave your mother a headache, your mother who, with all her wealth, was crushed with the ennui36 that is common to the fortunate ones of this world. When you went to college I interested myself in your progress, I shared your work and your play, I pondered with you over arduous37 problems in arithmetic, I sought the impenetrable meaning of a phrase of Julius C?sar's. What fine games of prisoners' base and football we had together! More than once did we know the intoxication38 of victory, and our young laurels39 were not soaked in blood or tears. Maurice,[243] I did all I could to protect your innocence, but I could not prevent your losing it at the age of fourteen. Afterwards I regretfully saw you loving women of all sorts, of divers40 ages, by no means beautiful, at least in the eyes of an angel. Saddened at the sight, I devoted41 myself to study; a fine library offered me resources rarely met with. I delved42 into the history of religions; you know the rest."
"But now, my dear Arcade," concluded young d'Esparvieu, "you have lost your position, your situation, you are entirely43 without resource. You have lost caste, you are off the lines, a vagabond, a bare-footed wanderer."
The Angel replied bitterly that, after all, he was a little better clad at present than when he was wearing the slops of a suicide.
Maurice alleged44 in excuse that when he dressed his naked angel in a suicide's slops, he was irritated with that angel's infidelity. But it was useless to dwell on the past or to recriminate. What was really needful was to consider what steps to take in future.
And he asked:
"Arcade, what do you think of doing?"
"Have I not already told you, Maurice? To fight with Him who reigns45 in the heavens, dethrone Him, and set up Satan in His stead."
"You will not do it. To begin with it is not the[244] opportune46 moment. Opinion is not with you. You will not be in the swim, as papa says. Conservatism and authority are all the go nowadays. We like to be ruled, and the President of the Republic is going to parley47 with the Pope. Do not be obstinate48, Arcade. You are not as bad as you say. At bottom you are like the rest of the world, you adore the good God."
"I thought I had already explained to you, Maurice, that He whom you consider God is actually but a demiurge. He is absolutely ignorant of the divine world above him, and in all good faith believes himself to be the true and only God. You will find in the History of the Church, by Monsignor Duchesne—Vol. I, page 162—that this proud and narrow-minded demiurge is named Ialdabaoth. My child, so as not to ruffle49 your prejudices and to deal gently with your feelings in future, that is the name I shall give him. If it should happen that I should speak of him to you, I shall call him Ialdabaoth. I must leave you. Adieu."
"Stay——"
"I cannot."
"I shall not let you go thus. You have deprived me of my guardian angel. It is for you to repair the injury you have caused me. Give me another one."
Arcade objected that it was difficult for him to satisfy such a demand. That having quarrelled[245] with the sovereign dispenser of guardian Spirits, he could obtain nothing from that quarter.
"My dear Maurice," he added, smiling, "ask for one yourself from Ialdabaoth."
"No,—no,—no," exclaimed Maurice. "You have taken away my guardian angel,—give him back to me."
"Alas! I cannot."
"Is it, Arcade, because you are a revolutionary that you cannot?"
"Yes."
"An enemy of God?"
"Yes."
"A Satanic spirit?"
"Yes."
"Well, then," exclaimed young Maurice, "I will be your guardian angel,—I will not leave you."
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1
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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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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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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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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panegyrics
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| n.赞美( panegyric的名词复数 )；称颂；颂词；颂扬的演讲或文章 | |
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8
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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25
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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27
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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29
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
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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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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32
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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34
permeating
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| 弥漫( permeate的现在分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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35
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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38
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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40
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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41
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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42
delved
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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45
reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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46
opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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47
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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48
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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49
ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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50
oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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