“But, after all, does there in truth exist a world populated by men of the world? For it seems to me, indeed, that what is commonly called the world is but a cloud of gold and silver hung in the blue of heaven. To the man who has actually entered it, it seems but a mist. In fact, social distinctions are matters of much confusion. Men are drawn9 together in flocks by their common prejudices or their common tastes. But tastes often war against prejudices, and chance sets everything at variance10. All the same, a large income and the leisure given by it tend to produce a certain style of life and special habits. This fact is the bond which links society people, and this kinship produces a certain standard which rules manners, physique and sport. Hence we derive11 the ‘tone’ of society. This ‘tone’ is purely12 superficial and for that very reason fairly perceptible. There are such things as society manners and appearances, but there is no such thing as society human nature, for what truly decides our character is passion, thought and feeling. Within us is a tribunal with which the world has no concern.”
Still, the wretched look of his shirt and tie continued to harass13 him, till at last he went to look59 at himself in the sitting-room14 mirror. Somehow his face assumed a far-off appearance in the glass, quite obscured as it was by an immense basket of heather festooned with ribands of red satin. The basket was of wicker, in the shape of a chariot with gilded15 wheels, and stood on the piano between two bags of marrons glacés. To its gilded shaft16 was affixed17 M. Roux’s card, for the basket was a present from him to Madame Bergeret.
The professor made no attempt to push aside the beribboned tufts of heather; he was satisfied with catching18 a glimpse of his left eye in the glass behind the flowers, and he continued to gaze at it benevolently19 for some little time. M. Bergeret, firmly convinced as he was that no one loved him, either in this world or in any other, sometimes treated himself to a little sympathy and pity. For he always behaved with the greatest consideration to all unhappy people, himself included. Now, dropping further consideration of his shirt and tie, he murmured to himself:
“You interpret the bosses on the shield of ?neas and yet your own tie is crumpled20. You are ridiculous on both counts. You are no man of the world. You should teach yourself, then, at least, how to live the inner life and should cultivate within yourself a wealthy kingdom.”
On New Year’s Day he had always grounds for60 bewailing his destiny, before he set out to pay his respects to two vulgar, offensive fellows, for such were the rector and the dean. The rector, M. Leterrier, could not bear him. This feeling was a natural antipathy21 that grew as regularly as a plant and brought forth22 fruit every year. M. Leterrier, a professor of philosophy and the author of a text-book which summed up all systems of thought, had the blind dogmatic instincts of the official teacher. No doubt whatever remained in his mind touching23 the questions of the good, the beautiful and the true, the characteristics of which he had summarised in one chapter of his work (pages 216 to 262). Now he regarded M. Bergeret as a dangerous and misguided man, and M. Bergeret, in his turn, fully8 appreciated the perfect sincerity24 of the dislike he aroused in M. Leterrier. Nor, in fact, did he make any complaint against it; sometimes he even treated it with an indulgent smile. On the other hand, he felt abjectly25 miserable26 whenever he met the dean, M. Torquet, who never had an idea in his head, and who, although he was crammed27 with learning, still retained the brain of a positive ignoramus. He was a fat man with a low forehead and no cranium to speak of, who did nothing all day but count the knobs of sugar in his house and the pears in his garden, and who would go on hanging61 bells, even when one of his professional colleagues paid him a visit. In doing mischief28 he showed an activity and a something approaching intelligence which filled M. Bergeret with amazement29. Such thoughts as these were in the professor’s mind, as he put on his overcoat to go and wish M. Torquet a happy New Year.
Yet he took a certain pleasure in being out of doors, for in the street he could enjoy that most priceless blessing30, the liberty of the mind. In front of the Two Satyrs at the corner of the Tintelleries, he paused for a moment to give a friendly glance at the little acacia which stretched its bare branches over the wall of Lafolie’s garden.
“Trees in winter,” thought he, “take on an aspect of homely31 beauty that they never show in all the pomp of foliage32 and flowers. It is in winter that they reveal their delicate structure, that they show their charming framework of black coral: these are no skeletons, but a multitude of pretty little limbs in which life slumbers33. If I were a landscape-painter....”
As he stood wrapt in these reflections, a portly man called him by name, seized his arm and walked on with him. This was M. Compagnon, the most popular of all the professors, the idolised master who gave his mathematical lectures in the great amphitheatre.
62 “Hullo! my dear Bergeret, happy New Year. I bet you’re going to call on the dean. So am I. We’ll walk on together.”
“Gladly,” answered M. Bergeret, “since in that way I shall travel pleasantly towards a painful goal. For I must confess it is no pleasure to me to see M. Torquet.”
On hearing this uncalled-for confidence, M. Compagnon, whether instinctively34 or inadvertently it was hard to say, withdrew the hand which he had slipped under his colleague’s arm.
“Yes, yes, I know! You and the dean don’t get on very well. Yet in general he isn’t a man who is difficult to get on with.”
“In speaking to you as I have done,” answered M. Bergeret, “I was not even thinking of the hostility35 which, according to report, the dean persists in keeping up towards me. But it chills me to the very marrow36 whenever I come in contact with a man who is totally lacking in imagination of any kind. What really saddens is not the idea of injustice37 and hatred38, nor is it the sight of human misery39. Quite the contrary, in fact, for we find the misfortunes of our fellows quite laughable, if only they are shown to us from a humorous standpoint. But those gloomy souls on whom the outer world seems to make no impression, those beings who have the faculty40 of ignoring the entire universe—the63 very sight of them reduces me to distress41 and desperation. My intercourse42 with M. Torquet is really one of the most painful misfortunes of my life.”
“Just so!” said M. Compagnon. “Our college is one of the most splendid in France, on account of the high attainments43 of the lecturers and the convenience of the buildings. It is only the laboratories that still leave something to be desired. But let us hope that this regrettable defect will soon be remedied, thanks to the combined efforts of our devoted44 rector and of so influential45 a senator as M. Laprat-Teulet.”
“It is also desirable,” said M. Bergeret, “that the Latin lectures should cease to be given in a dark, unwholesome cellar.”
“We no longer,” said he, “hear any chatter47 about the prophetess who held communion with Saint Radegonde and several other saints from Paradise. Did you go to see her, Bergeret? I was taken to see her by Lacarelle, the préfet’s chief secretary, just at the time when she was at the height of her popularity. She was sitting with her eyes shut in an arm-chair, while a dozen of the faithful plied48 her with questions. They asked her if the Pope’s health was satisfactory, what64 would be the result of the Franco-Russian alliance, whether the income-tax bill would pass, and whether a remedy for consumption would soon be found. She answered every question poetically49 and with a certain ease. When my turn came, I asked her this simple question:
“‘What is the logarithm of 9’? Well, Bergeret, do you imagine that she said 0,954?”
“No, I don’t,” said M. Bergeret.
“She never answered a word,” continued M. Compagnon; “never a word. She remained quite silent. Then I said: ‘How is it that Saint Radegonde doesn’t know the logarithm of 9? It is incredible!’ There were present at the meeting a few retired50 colonels, some priests, old ladies and a few Russian doctors. They seemed thunderstruck and Lacarelle’s face grew as long as a fiddle51. I took to my heels amid a torrent52 of reproaches.”
As M. Compagnon and M. Bergeret were crossing the square chatting in this way, they came upon M. Roux, who was going through the town scattering53 visiting-cards right and left, for he went into society a good deal.
“Here is my best pupil,” said M. Bergeret.
“He looks a sturdy fellow,” said M. Compagnon, who thought a great deal of physical strength. “Why the deuce does he take Latin?”
65 M. Bergeret was much piqued54 by this question and inquired whether the mathematical professor was of opinion that the study of the classics ought to be confined exclusively to the lame55, the halt, the maimed and the blind.
But already M. Roux was bowing to the two professors with a flashing smile that showed his strong, white teeth. He was in capital spirits, for his happy temperament56, which had enabled him to master the secret of the soldier’s life, had just brought him a fresh stroke of good luck. Only that morning M. Roux had been granted a fortnight’s leave that he might recover from a slight injury to the knee that was practically painless.
“Happy man!” cried M. Bergeret. “He needn’t even tell a lie to reap all the benefits of deceit.” Then, turning towards M. Compagnon, he remarked: “In my pupil, M. Roux, lie all the hopes of Latin verse. But, by a strange anomaly, although this young scholar scans the lines of Horace and Catullus with the utmost severity, he himself composes French verses that he never troubles to scan, verses whose irregular metre I must confess I cannot grasp. In a word, M. Roux writes vers libres.”
“Really,” said M. Compagnon politely.
M. Bergeret, who loved acquiring information66 and looked indulgently on new ideas, begged M. Roux to recite his last poem, The Metamorphosis of the Nymph, which had not yet been given to the world.
“One moment,” said M. Compagnon. “I will walk on your left, Monsieur Roux, so that I may have my best ear towards you.”
It was settled that M. Roux should recite his poem while he walked with the two professors as far as the dean’s house on the Tournelles, for on such a gentle slope as that he would not lose his breath.
Then M. Roux began to declaim The Metamorphosis of the Nymph in a slow, drawling, sing-song voice. In lines punctuated57 here and there by the rumbling58 of cart-wheels he recited:
The snow-white nymph,
Girdle her waist with the belt of Eve,
In leafage of oval shape,
And palely disappears.[2]
[2] La nymphe blanche
Qui coule à pleines hanches,
Le long du rivage arrondi
Et de l’?le où les saules grisatres
Mettent à ses flancs la ceinture d’ève,
En feuillages ovales,
Et qui fuit pale.
67 Then he painted a shifting kaleidoscope of:
Green banks shelving down,
And the frying of gudgeons within.[3]
[3] De vertes berges,
Avec l’auberge
Et les fritures de goujons.
Restless, unquiet, the nymph takes to flight.
She draws near the town and there the metamorphosis takes place.
And below is the dock
For the coke.[4]
[4] La pierre du quai dur lui rabote les hanches,
Sa poitrine est hérissée d’un poil rude,
Et noire de charbons, que délaye la sueur,
La nymphe est devenue un débardeur.
Et là-bas est le dock
Pour le coke.
Next the poet sang of the river flowing through the city:
And the river, from henceforth municipal and historic,
Worthy of glory.
From the grey stone walls,
Flows under the heavy shadow of the basilica
Where linger still the shades of Eudes, of Adalberts,
In the golden fringes of the past,
68
The nameless dead,
No longer bodies, but leather bottèls,
Who will to go hence,
With, for masts, but the chimney-tops.
For the drownèd will out beyond.
But pause you on the erudite parapets
Sheds its leaves,
“For you’re no stranger to the value of runes
Nor to the true power of signs traced on the sheets.”[5]
[5] Et le fleuve, d’ores en avant municipal et historique,
Et dignement d’archives, d’annales, de fastes,
De gloire.
De pierre grise,
Se tra?ne sous la lourde ombre basilicale
Que hantent encore des Eudes, des Adalberts,
Dans les orfrois passés,
évêques qui ne bénissent pas les noyés anonymes,
Anonymes,
Qui vont outre,
Le long des ?les en forme de bateaux plats
Avec, pour matures, des tuyaux de cheminées.
Et les noyés vont outre.
Mais arrête-toi aux parapets doctes
Fait pleuvoir ses feuilles,
Il se peut que, là, tu découvres une bonne écriture:
Car tu n’ignores pas la vertu des runes
69
For a long, long while M. Roux traced the course of this marvellous river, nor did he finish his recital83 till they reached the dean’s doorstep.
“That’s very good,” said M. Compagnon, for he had no grudge84 against literature, though for want of practice he could barely distinguish between a line of Racine and a line of Mallarmé.
But M. Bergeret said to himself:
“Perhaps, after all, this is a masterpiece?”
And, for fear of wronging beauty in disguise, he silently pressed the poet’s hand.
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收听单词发音
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1
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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crumpling
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| 压皱，弄皱( crumple的现在分词 )； 变皱 | |
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6
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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7
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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8
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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harass
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| vt.使烦恼，折磨，骚扰 | |
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14
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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15
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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17
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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18
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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19
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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20
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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21
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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22
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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23
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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24
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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25
abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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26
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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27
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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28
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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29
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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30
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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31
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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32
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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33
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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34
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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35
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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36
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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37
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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38
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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39
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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40
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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41
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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42
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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43
attainments
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| 成就，造诣； 获得( attainment的名词复数 )； 达到； 造诣； 成就 | |
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44
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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45
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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46
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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47
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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48
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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49
poetically
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| adv.有诗意地，用韵文 | |
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50
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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51
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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52
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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53
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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54
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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55
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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56
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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57
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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58
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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59
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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60
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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61
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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62
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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63
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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64
hostel
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| n.（学生）宿舍，招待所 | |
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65
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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66
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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67
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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68
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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69
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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70
stevedore
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| n.码头工人；v.装载货物 | |
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71
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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72
deriving
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| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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73
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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74
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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75
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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76
conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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77
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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78
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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79
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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80
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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81
rouges
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的名词复数 ) | |
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82
lames
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| 瘸的( lame的第三人称单数 )； 站不住脚的； 差劲的； 蹩脚的 | |
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83
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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84
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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