M. Guitrel’s maid had reached the canonical1 age some years ago; she wore a moustache; and assuredly bore no resemblance to the imaginary portrait of her which set the town guffawing2 in the ribald tales of the old Gallic type that were bandied about. Her face gave the lie to the jovial3 slanders4 which circulated from the Café du Commerce to Paillot’s shop, and from the pharmacy5 of the radical6 M. Mandar, to the jansenist salon7 of M. Lerond, the retired8 judge. Even if it were true that the professor of rhetoric10 used to allow his servant to sit at table with him when he was dining alone, if he was in the habit of sharing with her the little cakes that he chose with such anxious care at Dame11 Magloire’s, it was only because116 of his pure and innocent regard for a poor old woman, who was, in truth, both illiterate12 and rough, but at the same time full of crafty13 wisdom and devoted14 to her master. She was, in fact, filled with ambition for him and ready in her loyalty15 to betray the whole world for his sake.
Unfortunately Abbé Lantaigne, the principal of the high seminary, paid too much heed16 to these prurient17 tales about Guitrel and his domestic, which everyone repeated and which no one believed, not even M. Mandar, the chemist of the Rue9 Culture, the most rabid of the town councillors. He had, in fact, added too much out of his own stock-in-trade to these merry tales not to suspect in his own mind the authenticity18 of the whole collection. For quite a voluminous cycle of romance had grown up round these two prosaic19 people. Had he only known the Decameron, the Heptameron and the Cent Nouvelles nouvelles better, M. Lantaigne would frequently have discovered the source of this droll20 adventure, or of that weird21 anecdote22, which the county town generously added to the legend of M. Guitrel and his servant Joséphine. M. Mazure, the keeper of the municipal archives, never failed for his part, whenever he had found some lewd23 story of a Churchman in an old book, to assign it117 to M. Guitrel. Only M. Lantaigne actually swallowed what everyone else said without believing.
So saying she took a long-handled pewter spoon from the sideboard drawer and handed it to M. Guitrel. Whilst the priest poured the flaming spirit over the frizzling sugar, which gave out a smell of caramel, the servant leant against the sideboard with her arms crossed and stared at the musical clock which hung on the wall in a gilt25 frame; a Swiss landscape, with a train coming out of a tunnel, a balloon in the air, and the enamelled dial affixed26 to a little church tower. The observant woman was really watching her master, for his short arm was beginning to ache with wielding27 the hot spoon. She began to spur him on:
“Look sharp, Monsieur l’abbé! Don’t let it go out.”
“This dish,” said the arch-priest, “really gives out a most delicious odour. The last time I had one like it made for me, the dish split on account of the heat and the rum ran over the table-cloth. I was much vexed28, and what annoyed me still more was to see the consternation29 on118 M. Tabarit’s face, for it happened when he was dining with me.”
“That’s just it!” exclaimed the servant. “M. l’archiprêtre had it served on a dish of fine porcelain30. Of course, nothing could be too fine for Monsieur. But the finer the china is, the worse it stands fire. This dish here is of earthenware31, and heat or cold makes no odds32 to it. When my master is a bishop33 he’ll have his omelettes soufflées served on a silver dish.”
All of a sudden the flame flickered34 out in the pewter spoon and M. Guitrel stopped basting35 the omelette. Then he turned towards the woman and said with a stern glance:
“Joséphine, you must never, in future, let me hear you talk in that fashion.”
“But, my dear Guitrel,” said the curé of Saint-Exupère, “it is only you yourself who can take exception to such words, for to others it would seem only natural. You have been endowed with the precious gift of intelligence. Your knowledge is profound and, were you raised to a bishopric, it would only seem a fitting thing. Who knows whether this simple woman has not uttered a true prophecy? Has not your name been mentioned among those of the priests considered eligible36 for the episcopal chair of Tourcoing?”
119 M. Guitrel pricked37 up his ears and gave a side-long glance, with one eye full on the other’s profile.
He was, indeed, feeling very anxious, for his affairs were by no means in a promising38 state. At the nunciature he had been obliged to content himself with vague promises and he was beginning to be afraid of their Roman caution. It seemed to him that M. Lantaigne was in good odour at the Department of Religion, and, in short, his visit to Paris had only filled him with disquieting39 fancies. And now, if he was giving a lunch to the curé of Saint-Exupère, it was merely because the latter had the key to all the wire-pulling in M. Lantaigne’s party. M. Guitrel hoped, therefore, to worm out of the worthy40 curé all his opponent’s secrets.
“And why,” continued the arch-priest, “should you not be a bishop one of these days, like M. Lantaigne?”
In the silence that followed the utterance41 of this name, the musical clock struck out a shrill42 little tune43 of the olden days. It was the hour of noon.
The hand with which Abbé Guitrel passed the earthenware dish to the arch-priest trembled a little.
“There is,” said the latter, “a mellowness44 about120 this dish, a mellowness that is not insipid45. Your servant is a first-rate cook.”
“I was,” replied the arch-priest. “I don’t mean to say that at this precise moment M. Lantaigne is the bishop-designate of Tourcoing, for to say that would be to anticipate the course of events. But I heard this very morning from someone who is very intimate with the Vicar-General that the nunciature and the ministry47 are practically in agreement as to the appointment of M. Lantaigne. But this, of course, still lacks confirmation48 and it is quite possible that M. de Goulet may have taken his hopes for accomplished49 facts, for, as you know, he ardently50 desires M. Lantaigne’s success. But that the principal will be successful seems quite probable. It is true that some time ago a certain uncompromising attitude, which it was believed might be justly attributed to M. Lantaigne’s opinions, may perchance have given offence to the powers that be, inspired as they were with a harassing51 distrust of the clergy52. But times are changed. These heavy clouds of mistrust have rolled away. Certain influences, too, that were formerly53 considered outside the sphere of politics are beginning to work now, even in governmental circles. They tell me, in fact, that General121 Cartier de Chalmot’s support of M. Lantaigne’s candidature has been all-powerful. This is the gossip, the still unauthenticated report, that I have heard.”
The servant Joséphine had left the room, but her anxious shadow still flashed from moment to moment through the half-open door.
“This omelette,” said the arch-priest, “has a curious mixture of flavours which tickles55 the palate without allowing one to distinguish just what it is that is so delightful56. Will you permit me to ask your servant for the recipe?”
An hour later M. Guitrel bade farewell to his guest, and set out, with shoulders bent57 low, for the seminary. Buried in thought, he descended58 the winding59, slanting60 street of the Chantres, crossing his great-coat over his chest against the icy wind which was buffeting61 the gable of the cathedral. It was the coldest, darkest corner of the town. He hastened his pace as far as the Rue du Marché, and there he stopped before the butcher’s shop kept by Lafolie.
It was barred like a lion’s cage. Under the quarters of mutton hung up by hooks, the butcher lay asleep on the ground, close against the board used for cutting up the meat. His brawny62 limbs were now relaxed in utter weariness, for his day’s122 work had begun at daybreak. With his bare arms crossed, he lay slowly nodding his head. His steel was still hanging at his side and his legs were stretched out under a blood-stained white apron63. His red face was shining, and under the turned-down collar of his pink shirt the veins64 of his neck swelled65 up. From the recumbent figure breathed a sense of quiet power. M. Bergeret, indeed, always used to say of Lafolie that from him one could gather some idea of the Homeric heroes, because his manner of life resembled theirs since, like them, he shed the blood of victims.
Butcher Lafolie slept. Near him slept his son, tall and strong like his father, and with ruddy cheeks. The butcher’s boy, with his head in his hands, was asleep on the marble slab66, with his hair dangling67 among the spread-out joints68 of meat. Behind her glazed69 partition at the entrance of the shop sat Madame Lafolie, bolt upright, but with heavy eyes weighed down by sleep. She was a fat woman, with a huge bosom70, her flesh saturated71 with the blood of beasts. The whole family had a look of brutal72, yet masterly, power, an air of barbaric royalty73.
With his quick glance shifting from one to the other, M. Guitrel stood watching them for a long while. Again and again he turned with special123 interest towards the master, the colossus whose purpled cheeks were barred by a long reddish moustache, and who, now that his eyes were shut, showed on his temples the little wrinkles that speak of cunning. Then, surfeited74 of the sight of this violent, crafty brute75, and gripping his old umbrella under his arm, he crossed his great-coat over his chest once more, and continued his way. He was quite in good spirits once more, as he thought to himself:
“Eight thousand, three hundred and twenty-five francs last year. One thousand, nine hundred and six this year. Abbé Lantaigne, principal of the high seminary, owes ten thousand, two hundred and thirty-one francs to Lafolie the butcher, who is by no means an easy-going creditor76. Abbé Lantaigne will not be a bishop.”
For a long while he had been aware that M. Lantaigne was in financial straits, and that the college was heavily in debt. To-day his servant Joséphine had just informed him that Lafolie was showing his teeth and talking of suing the seminary and the archbishopric for debt. Trotting77 along with his mincing78 step, M. Guitrel murmured:
“M. Lantaigne will never be a bishop. He is honest enough, but he is a bad manager. Now a bishopric is just an administration. Bossuet said so in express terms when he was124 delivering the funeral oration79 of the Prince de Condé.”
And in mentally recalling the horrible face of Lafolie the butcher, M. Guitrel felt no repugnance80 whatever.
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1
canonical
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| n.权威的；典型的 | |
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2
guffawing
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的现在分词 ) | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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slanders
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| 诽谤，诋毁( slander的名词复数 ) | |
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pharmacy
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| n.药房，药剂学，制药业，配药业，一批备用药品 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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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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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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13
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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14
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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15
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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17
prurient
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| adj.好色的，淫乱的 | |
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authenticity
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| n.真实性 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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20
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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23
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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baste
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| v.殴打，公开责骂 | |
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25
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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26
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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27
wielding
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的现在分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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28
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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29
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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30
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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32
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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34
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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basting
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| n.疏缝；疏缝的针脚；疏缝用线；涂油v.打( baste的现在分词 )；粗缝；痛斥；（烤肉等时）往上抹[浇]油 | |
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36
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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37
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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38
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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39
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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40
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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41
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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42
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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43
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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44
mellowness
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| 成熟； 芳醇； 肥沃； 怡然 | |
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45
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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46
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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47
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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48
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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49
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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50
ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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51
harassing
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| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
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52
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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53
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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54
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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55
tickles
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| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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56
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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57
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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58
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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59
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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60
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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61
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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62
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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63
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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64
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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65
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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66
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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67
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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68
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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69
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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70
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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71
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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72
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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73
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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74
surfeited
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| v.吃得过多( surfeit的过去式和过去分词 )；由于过量而厌腻 | |
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75
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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76
creditor
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| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
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77
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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79
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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80
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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