ROFOUNDLY distressed2 by the dark utterances3 of young Maurice, Monsieur Sariette took a motor-omnibus, and went to see Père Guinardon, his friend, his only friend, the one person in the whole world whom it gave him pleasure to see and hear. When Monsieur Sariette entered the shop in the Rue4 de Courcelles, Guinardon was alone, dozing5 in the depths of an antique arm-chair. His face, surrounded by his curly hair and luxuriant beard, was crimson6 in hue7. Little violet filaments8 spread a network about the fleshy part of his nose, to which the wines of Burgundy had imparted a purple tint9; for there was no longer any disguising the fact, Père Guinardon drank. Two feet away from him, on the fair Octavie's work-table, a rose, all but withered10, drooped11 in an empty vase, and in a basket a piece of embroidery12 was lying unfinished and neglected. The young Octavie's ab[295]sences from the shop were growing more and more frequent, and Monsieur Blancmesnil never called when she was not there. The reason of this was that they were meeting three times a week at five o'clock in a house close to the Champs élysées. Père Guinardon knew nothing of that. He did not know the full extent of his misfortune, but he suffered.
Monsieur Sariette shook his old friend by the hand; but he did not enquire13 for the young Octavie, for he refused to recognise the connexion. He would sooner have talked about Zéphyrine, who had been so cruelly deserted14, and whom he hoped the old man would make his lawful15 wife. But Monsieur Sariette was prudent16. He contented17 himself with asking Guinardon how he was.
"Perfectly18 well," was Guinardon's reply; but he felt ill, for either age and love-making had undermined his sturdy constitution, or else young Octavie's faithlessness had dealt her lover a fatal blow. "God be praised," he went on, "I still retain my powers of mind and body. I am chaste19. Be chaste, Sariette. Chastity is strength."
That evening Père Guinardon had taken some specially20 valuable books out of the king-wood cabinet to show to a distinguished21 bibliophile22, Monsieur Victor Meyer, and after the latter's departure he had dropped off to sleep without putting them back in their places. Books had an attraction for Monsieur Sariette, and seeing[296] these particular volumes on the marble top of the cabinet, he began to examine them with interest. The first one he looked at was La Pucelle, in morocco, with the English continuation. Doubtless it pained his patriotic23 and Christian24 heart to admire its text and illustrations, but a good copy was always virtuous25 and pure in his sight. Continuing to chat very affectionately with Guinardon, he picked up, one by one, the books which the antiquary had, for one reason or another—binding, illustrations, distinguished ownership, or scarcity—added to his stock.
Suddenly a glorious shout of joy and love broke from his lips. He had discovered the Lucretius of the Prior de Vend26?me, his Lucretius, and he was clasping it to his bosom27.
At first Père Guinardon could not quite make out what his old friend was talking about; but when the latter declared to him that the volume was from the d'Esparvieu collection, that it belonged to him, Sariette, and that he was going to take it away without further ado, the antiquary completely woke up, got on his legs, declared emphatically that the book belonged to him, Guinardon, by right of true and lawful purchase, and that he would not part with it unless he got five thousand francs for it cash down.[297]
"You don't take in what I am telling you," answered Sariette. "The book belongs to the d'Esparvieu library; I must restore it to its place."
"Pas de ?a, Lisette"—— hummed Guinardon.
"The book belongs to me, I tell you!"
"You are crazy, my good Sariette!"
And noticing that, as a matter of fact, the librarian had a wandering look in his eye, he took the book from him, and tried to change the conversation.
"Have you seen, Sariette, that the rascals29 are going to rip up the Palais Mazarin, and cover up the very heart and centre of the Old Town, the finest and most venerable place in the whole of Paris, with the deuce knows what works of art of theirs? They are worse than the Vandals, for the Vandals, although they destroyed the buildings of antiquity30, did not replace them with hideous31 and disgusting erections and atrocious bridges like the Pont d'Alexandre. And your poor Rue Garancière, Sariette, has fallen a prey32 to the barbarians33. What have they done with the pretty bronze mask of the Palace fountain?"
Monsieur Sariette never listened to a word of all this.
"Guinardon, you have not understood me. Now listen. This book belongs to the d'Esparvieu library. It was taken away, how or by whom I know[298] not. Dreadful and mysterious things went on in that library. But, anyhow, the book was stolen. I need scarcely appeal to your sentiments of scrupulous34 probity35, my dear friend. You would not like to be regarded as the receiver of stolen goods. Give me the book. I will return it to Monsieur d'Esparvieu, who will duly requite36 you; of that you may be sure. Rely on his generosity37, and you will be acting38 like the downright good fellow that you are."
The antiquary smiled a bitter smile.
"Catch me relying on the generosity of that old curmudgeon39 of a d'Esparvieu. Why, he'd skin a flea40 to get its coat. Look at me, Sariette, old boy, and tell me if I look like a dunderhead. You know perfectly well that d'Esparvieu refused to give fifty francs in a second-hand41 shop for a portrait of Alexandre d'Esparvieu, the founder42 of the family, by Hersent, and that consequently the founder of the family has had to remain on the Boulevard Montparnasse, propped43 against a Jew hawker's stall, just opposite the cemetery44, where all the dogs of the neighbourhood come and make water on him. Catch me trusting to Monsieur d'Esparvieu's liberality! You've got some bright ideas in your head, you have!"
"Very well, Guinardon, I myself will undertake to pay you any indemnity45 that a board of arbitrators may fix upon. Do you hear?"[299]
"Now don't go and do the handsome for people who won't give you so much as a thank-you. This man, d'Esparvieu, has taken your knowledge, your energies, your whole life for a salary that even a valet wouldn't accept. So leave that idea alone. In any case it is too late. The book is sold."
"What does that matter? You'll never see it again. You'll hear no more about it; it's off to America."
"To America! The Lucretius with the arms of Philippe de Vend?me and marginalia in Voltaire's own hand! My Lucretius off to America!"
Père Guinardon began to laugh.
"My dear Sariette, you remind me of the Chevalier des Grieux when he learns that his darling mistress is to be transported to the Mississippi. 'My dear mistress going to the Mississippi!' says he."
"No! no!" answered Sariette, very pale, "this book shall not go to America. It shall return, as it ought, to the d'Esparvieu library. Let me have it, Guinardon."
The antiquary made a second attempt to put an end to an interview that now looked as if it might take an ugly turn.
"My good Sariette, you haven't told me what you think of my Greco. You never so much as[300] glanced at it. It is an admirable piece of work all the same."
And Guinardon, putting the picture in a good light, went on:
"Now just look at Saint Francis here, the poor man of the Lord, the brother of Jesus. See how his fuliginous body rises heavenward like the smoke from an agreeable sacrifice, like the sacrifice of Abel."
"Give me the book, Guinardon," said Sariette, without turning his head; "give me the book."
The blood suddenly flew to Père Guinardon's head.
"That's enough of it," he shouted, as red as a turkey-cock, the veins47 standing48 out on his forehead.
And he dropped the Lucretius into his jacket pocket.
Straightway old Sariette flew at the antiquary, assailed49 him with sudden fury, and, frail50 and weakly as he was, butted51 him back into young Octavie's arm-chair.
Guinardon, in furious amazement52, belched53 forth54 the most horrible abuse on the old maniac55 and gave him a punch that sent him staggering back four paces against the Coronation of the Virgin56, by Fra Angelico, which fell down with a crash. Sariette returned to the charge, and tried to drag the book out of the pocket in which it lay hid. This time Père Guinardon would really have floored him had[301] he not been blinded by the blood that was rushing to his head, and hit sideways at the work-table of his absent mistress. Sariette fastened himself on to his bewildered adversary57, held him down in the arm-chair, and with his little bony hands clutched him by the neck, which, red as it was already, became a deep crimson. Guinardon struggled to get free, but the little fingers, feeling the mass of soft, warm flesh about them, embedded58 themselves in it with delicious ecstasy59. Some unknown force made them hold fast to their prey. Guinardon's throat began to rattle60, saliva61 was oozing62 from one corner of his mouth. His enormous frame quivered now and again beneath the grasp; but the tremors63 grew more and more intermittent64 and spasmodic. At last they ceased. The murderous hands did not let go their hold. Sariette had to make a violent effort to loose them. His temples were buzzing. Nevertheless he could hear the rain falling outside, muffled65 steps going past on the pavement, newspaper men shouting in the distance. He could see umbrellas passing along in the dim light. He drew the book from the dead man's pocket and fled.
The fair Octavie did not go back to the shop that night. She went to sleep in a little entresol underneath66 the bric-a-brac stores which Monsieur de Blancmesnil had recently bought for her in this same Rue de Courcelles. The workman whose task it was to shut up the shop found the antiquary's[302] body still warm. He called Madame Lenain, the concierge67, who laid Guinardon on the couch, lit a couple of candles, put a sprig of box in a saucer of holy water, and closed the dead man's eyes. The doctor who was called in to certify68 the death ascribed it to apoplexy.
Zéphyrine, informed of what had happened by Madame Lenain, hastened to the house, and sat up all night with the body. The dead man looked as if he were sleeping. In the flickering69 light of the candles El Greco's Saint mounted upwards70 like a wreath of smoke, the gold of the Primitives71 gleamed in the shadows. Near the deathbed a little woman by Baudouin was plainly discernible giving herself a douche. All through the night Zéphyrine's lamentations could be heard fifty yards away.
"He's dead, he's dead!" she kept saying. "My friend, my divinity, my all, my love—— But no! he is not dead, he moves. It is I, Michel; I, your Zéphyrine. Awake, hear me! Answer me; I love you; if ever I caused you pain, forgive me. Dead! dead! O my God! See how beautiful he is. He was so good, so clever, so kind. My God! My God! My God! If I had been there he would not now be lying dead. Michel! Michel!"
When morning came she was silent. They thought she had fallen asleep. She was dead too.
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1
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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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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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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filaments
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| n.（电灯泡的）灯丝( filament的名词复数 )；丝极；细丝；丝状物 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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10
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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11
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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13
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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20
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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bibliophile
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| n.爱书者；藏书家 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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vend
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| v.公开表明观点，出售，贩卖 | |
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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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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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32
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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34
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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35
probity
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| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
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36
requite
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| v.报酬，报答 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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38
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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39
curmudgeon
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| n. 脾气暴躁之人，守财奴，吝啬鬼 | |
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40
flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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41
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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43
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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45
indemnity
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| n.赔偿，赔款，补偿金 | |
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46
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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47
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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48
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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49
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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50
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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51
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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52
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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53
belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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54
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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55
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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56
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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57
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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58
embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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59
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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60
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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61
saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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62
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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63
tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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64
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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65
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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66
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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67
concierge
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| n.管理员；门房 | |
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68
certify
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| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
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69
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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70
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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primitives
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| 原始人（primitive的复数形式） | |
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