“Je vous conseille de vous faire prier,” said M. Emanuel, imperially menacing the other ear. One Napoleonic compliment, however, was enough, so I made up my mind to be of the party.
The morning broke calm as summer, with singing of birds in the garden, and a light dew-mist that promised heat. We all said it would be warm, and we all felt pleasure in folding away heavy garments, and in assuming the attire3 suiting a sunny season. The clean fresh print dress, and the light straw bonnet4, each made and trimmed as the French workwoman alone can make and trim, so as to unite the utterly5 unpretending with the perfectly6 becoming, was the rule of costume. Nobody flaunted7 in faded silk; nobody wore a second-hand8 best article.
At six the bell rang merrily, and we poured down the staircase, through the carré, along the corridor, into the vestibule. There stood our Professor, wearing, not his savage-looking palet?t and severe bonnet-grec, but a young-looking belted blouse and cheerful straw hat. He had for us all the kindest good-morrow, and most of us for him had a thanksgiving smile. We were marshalled in order and soon started.
The streets were yet quiet, and the boulevards were fresh and peaceful as fields. I believe we were very happy as we walked along. This chief of ours had the secret of giving a certain impetus9 to happiness when he would; just as, in an opposite mood, he could give a thrill to fear.
He did not lead nor follow us, but walked along the line, giving a word to every one, talking much to his favourites, and not wholly neglecting even those he disliked. It was rather my wish, for a reason I had, to keep slightly aloof11 from notice, and being paired with Ginevra Fanshawe, bearing on my arm the dear pressure of that angel’s not unsubstantial limb —(she continued in excellent case, and I can assure the reader it was no trifling12 business to bear the burden of her loveliness; many a time in the course of that warm day I wished to goodness there had been less of the charming commodity)— however, having her, as I said, I tried to make her useful by interposing her always between myself and M. Paul, shifting my place, according as I heard him coming up to the right hand or the left. My private motive13 for this manoeuvre14 might be traced to the circumstance of the new print dress I wore, being pink in colour — a fact which, under our present convoy15, made me feel something as I have felt, when, clad in a shawl with a red border, necessitated16 to traverse a meadow where pastured a bull.
For awhile, the shifting system, together with some modifications17 in the arrangement of a black silk scarf, answered my purpose; but, by-and-by, he found out, that whether he came to this side or to that, Miss Fanshawe was still his neighbour. The course of acquaintance between Ginevra and him had never run so smooth that his temper did not undergo a certain crisping process whenever he heard her English accent: nothing in their dispositions18 fitted; they jarred if they came in contact; he held her empty and affected19; she deemed him bearish20, meddling21, repellent.
At last, when he had changed his place for about the sixth time, finding still the same untoward22 result to the experiment — he thrust his head forward, settled his eyes on mine, and demanded with impatience23, “Qu’est-ce que c’est? Vous me jouez des tours?”
The words were hardly out of his mouth, however, ere, with his customary quickness, he seized the root of this proceeding24: in vain I shook out the long fringe, and spread forth the broad end of my scarf. “A-h-h! c’est la robe rose!” broke from his lips, affecting me very much like the sudden and irate25 low of some lord of the meadow.
“It is only cotton,” I alleged26, hurriedly; “and cheaper, and washes better than any other colour.”
“Et Mademoiselle Lucy est coquette comme dix Parisiennes,” he answered. “A-t-on jamais vu une Anglaise pareille. Regardez plut?t son chapeau, et ses gants, et ses brodequins!” These articles of dress were just like what my companions wore; certainly not one whit27 smarter — perhaps rather plainer than most — but Monsieur had now got hold of his text, and I began to chafe28 under the expected sermon. It went off, however, as mildly as the menace of a storm sometimes passes on a summer day. I got but one flash of sheet lightning in the shape of a single bantering29 smile from his eyes; and then he said, “Courage! —à vrai dire30 je ne suis pas faché, peut-être même suis je content qu’on s’est fait si belle31 pour ma petite fête.”
“Mais ma robe n’est pas belle, Monsieur — elle n’est que propre.”
“J’aime la propreté,” said he. In short, he was not to be dissatisfied; the sun of good humour was to triumph on this auspicious32 morning; it consumed scudding33 clouds ere they sullied its disk.
And now we were in the country, amongst what they called “les bois et les petits sentiers.” These woods and lanes a month later would offer but a dusty and doubtful seclusion34: now, however, in their May greenness and morning repose35, they looked very pleasant.
We reached a certain well, planted round, in the taste of Labassecour, with an orderly circle of lime-trees: here a halt was called; on the green swell36 of ground surrounding this well, we were ordered to be seated, Monsieur taking his place in our midst, and suffering us to gather in a knot round him. Those who liked him more than they feared, came close, and these were chiefly little ones; those who feared more than they liked, kept somewhat aloof; those in whom much affection had given, even to what remained of fear, a pleasurable zest37, observed the greatest distance.
He began to tell us a story. Well could he narrate38: in such a diction as children love, and learned men emulate39; a diction simple in its strength, and strong in its simplicity40. There were beautiful touches in that little tale; sweet glimpses of feeling and hues41 of description that, while I listened, sunk into my mind, and since have never faded. He tinted42 a twilight43 scene — I hold it in memory still — such a picture I have never looked on from artist’s pencil.
I have said, that, for myself, I had no impromptu44 faculty45; and perhaps that very deficiency made me marvel46 the more at one who possessed47 it in perfection. M. Emanuel was not a man to write books; but I have heard him lavish48, with careless, unconscious prodigality49, such mental wealth as books seldom boast; his mind was indeed my library, and whenever it was opened to me, I entered bliss50. Intellectually imperfect as I was, I could read little; there were few bound and printed volumes that did not weary me — whose perusal51 did not fag and blind — but his tomes of thought were collyrium to the spirit’s eyes; over their contents, inward sight grew clear and strong. I used to think what a delight it would be for one who loved him better than he loved himself, to gather and store up those handfuls of gold-dust, so recklessly flung to heaven’s reckless winds.
His story done, he approached the little knoll52 where I and Ginevra sat apart. In his usual mode of demanding an opinion (he had not reticence53 to wait till it was voluntarily offered) he asked, “Were you interested?”
According to my wonted undemonstrative fashion, I simply answered — “Yes.”
“Was it good?”
“Very good.”
“Yet I could not write that down,” said he.
“Why not, Monsieur?”
“I hate the mechanical labour; I hate to stoop and sit still. I could dictate55 it, though, with pleasure, to an amanuensis who suited me. Would Mademoiselle Lucy write for me if I asked her?”
“Monsieur would be too quick; he would urge me, and be angry if my pen did not keep pace with his lips.”
“Try some day; let us see the monster I can make of myself under the circumstances. But just now, there is no question of dictation; I mean to make you useful in another office. Do you see yonder farm-house?”
“Surrounded with trees? Yes.”.
“There we are to breakfast; and while the good fermière makes the café au lait in a caldron, you and five others, whom I shall select, will spread with butter half a hundred rolls.”
Having formed his troop into line once more, he marched us straight on the farm, which, on seeing our force, surrendered without capitulation.
Clean knives and plates, and fresh butter being provided, half-a-dozen of us, chosen by our Professor, set to work under his directions, to prepare for breakfast a huge basket of rolls, with which the baker56 had been ordered to provision the farm, in anticipation57 of our coming. Coffee and chocolate were already made hot; cream and new-laid eggs were added to the treat, and M. Emanuel, always generous, would have given a large order for “jambon” and “confitures” in addition, but that some of us, who presumed perhaps upon our influence, insisted that it would be a most reckless waste of victual. He railed at us for our pains, terming us “des ménagères avares;” but we let him talk, and managed the economy of the repast our own way.
With what a pleasant countenance58 he stood on the farm-kitchen hearth59 looking on! He was a man whom it made happy to see others happy; he liked to have movement, animation60, abundance and enjoyment61 round him. We asked where he would sit. He told us, we knew well he was our slave, and we his tyrants62, and that he dared not so much as choose a chair without our leave; so we set him the farmer’s great chair at the head of the long table, and put him into it.
Well might we like him, with all his passions and hurricanes, when he could be so benignant and docile63 at times, as he was just now. Indeed, at the worst, it was only his nerves that were irritable64, not his temper that was radically65 bad; soothe66, comprehend, comfort him, and he was a lamb; he would not harm a fly. Only to the very stupid, perverse67, or unsympathizing, was he in the slightest degree dangerous.
Mindful always of his religion, he made the youngest of the party say a little prayer before we began breakfast, crossing himself as devotedly68 as a woman. I had never seen him pray before, or make that pious69 sign; he did it so simply, with such child-like faith, I could not help smiling pleasurably as I watched; his eyes met my smile; he just stretched out his kind hand, saying, “Donnez-moi la main! I see we worship the same God, in the same spirit, though by different rites10.”
Most of M. Emanuel’s brother Professors were emancipated70 free-thinkers, infidels, atheists; and many of them men whose lives would not bear scrutiny71; he was more like a knight72 of old, religious in his way, and of spotless fame. Innocent childhood, beautiful youth were safe at his side. He had vivid passions, keen feelings, but his pure honour and his artless piety73 were the strong charm that kept the lions couchant.
That breakfast was a merry meal, and the merriment was not mere74 vacant clatter75: M. Paul originated, led, controlled and heightened it; his social, lively temper played unfettered and unclouded; surrounded only by women and children there was nothing to cross and thwart76 him; he had his own way, and a pleasant way it was.
The meal over, the party were free to run and play in the meadows; a few stayed to help the farmer’s wife to put away her earthenware77. M. Paul called me from among these to come out and sit near him under a tree — whence he could view the troop gambolling78, over a wide pasture — and read to him whilst he took his cigar. He sat on a rustic79 bench, and I at the tree-root. While I read (a pocket-classic — a Corneille — I did not like it, but he did, finding therein beauties I never could be brought to perceive), he listened with a sweetness of calm the more impressive from the impetuosity of his general nature; the deepest happiness filled his blue eye and smoothed his broad forehead. I, too, was happy — happy with the bright day, happier with his presence, happiest with his kindness.
He asked, by-and-by, if I would not rather run to my companions than sit there? I said, no; I felt content to be where he was. He asked whether, if I were his sister, I should always he content to stay with a brother such as he. I said, I believed I should; and I felt it. Again, he inquired whether, if he were to leave Villette, and go far away, I should be sorry; and I dropped Corneille, and made no reply.
“Petite soeur,” said he; “how long could you remember me if we were separated?”
“That, Monsieur, I can never tell, because I do not know how long it will be before I shall cease to remember everything earthly.”
“If I were to go beyond seas for two — three — five years, should you welcome me on my return?”
“Monsieur, how could I live in the interval80?”
“Pourtant j’ai été pour vous bien dur, bien exigeant.”
I hid my face with the book, for it was covered with tears. I asked him why he talked so; and he said he would talk so no more, and cheered me again with the kindest encouragement. Still, the gentleness with which he treated me during the rest of the day, went somehow to my heart. It was too tender. It was mournful. I would rather he had been abrupt81, whimsical, and irate as was his wont54.
When hot noon arrived — for the day turned out as we had anticipated, glowing as June — our shepherd collected his sheep from the pasture, and proceeded to lead us all softly home. But we had a whole league to walk, thus far from Villette was the farm where he had breakfasted; the children, especially, were tired with their play; the spirits of most flagged at the prospect82 of this mid-day walk over chaussées flinty, glaring, and dusty. This state of things had been foreseen and provided for. Just beyond the boundary of the farm we met two spacious83 vehicles coming to fetch us — such conveyances84 as are hired out purposely for the accommodation of school-parties; here, with good management, room was found for all, and in another hour M. Paul made safe consignment85 of his charge at the Rue86 Fossette. It had been a pleasant day: it would have been perfect, but for the breathing of melancholy87 which had dimmed its sunshine a moment.
That tarnish88 was renewed the same evening.
Just about sunset, I saw M. Emanuel come out of the front-door, accompanied by Madame Beck. They paced the centre-alley for nearly an hour, talking earnestly: he — looking grave, yet restless; she — wearing an amazed, expostulatory, dissuasive89 air.
I wondered what was under discussion; and when Madame Beck re-entered the house as it darkened, leaving her kinsman90 Paul yet lingering in the garden, I said to myself —“He called me ‘petite soeur’ this morning. If he were really my brother, how I should like to go to him just now, and ask what it is that presses on his mind. See how he leans against that tree, with his arms crossed and his brow bent91. He wants consolation92, I know: Madame does not console: she only remonstrates93. What now ——?”
Starting from quiescence94 to action, M. Paul came striding erect95 and quick down the garden. The carré doors were yet open: I thought he was probably going to water the orange-trees in the tubs, after his occasional custom; on reaching the court, however, he took an abrupt turn and made for the berceau and the first-classe glass door. There, in that first classe I was, thence I had been watching him; but there I could not find courage to await his approach. He had turned so suddenly, he strode so fast, he looked so strange; the coward within me grew pale, shrank and — not waiting to listen to reason, and hearing the shrubs96 crush and the gravel97 crunch98 to his advance — she was gone on the wings of panic.
Nor did I pause till I had taken sanctuary99 in the oratory100, now empty. Listening there with beating pulses, and an unaccountable, undefined apprehension101, I heard him pass through all the schoolrooms, clashing the doors impatiently as he went; I heard him invade the refectory which the “lecture pieuse” was now holding under hallowed constraint102; I heard him pronounce these words —“Où est Mademoiselle Lucie?”
And just as, summoning my courage, I was preparing to go down and do what, after all, I most wished to do in the world — viz., meet him — the wiry voice of St. Pierre replied glibly103 and falsely, “Elle est au lit.” And he passed, with the stamp of vexation, into the corridor. There Madame Beck met, captured, chid104, convoyed to the street-door, and finally dismissed him.
As that street-door closed, a sudden amazement105 at my own perverse proceeding struck like a blow upon me. I felt from the first it was me he wanted — me he was seeking — and had not I wanted him too? What, then, had carried me away? What had rapt me beyond his reach? He had something to tell: he was going to tell me that something: my ear strained its nerve to hear it, and I had made the confidence impossible. Yearning106 to listen and console, while I thought audience and solace107 beyond hope’s reach — no sooner did opportunity suddenly and fully108 arrive, than I evaded109 it as I would have evaded the levelled shaft110 of mortality.
Well, my insane inconsistency had its reward. Instead of the comfort, the certain satisfaction, I might have won — could I but have put choking panic down, and stood firm two minutes — here was dead blank, dark doubt, and drear suspense111.
I took my wages to my pillow, and passed the night counting them.
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1
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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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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7
flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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modifications
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| n.缓和( modification的名词复数 )；限制；更改；改变 | |
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dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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bearish
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| adj.(行情)看跌的，卖空的 | |
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meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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chafe
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| v.擦伤；冲洗；惹怒 | |
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bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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auspicious
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| adj.吉利的；幸运的，吉兆的 | |
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scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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repose
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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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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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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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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56
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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62
tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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emancipated
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| adj.被解放的，不受约束的v.解放某人（尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚）( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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gambolling
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的现在分词 ) | |
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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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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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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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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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tarnish
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| n.晦暗，污点；vt.使失去光泽；玷污 | |
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dissuasive
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| 劝戒的 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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remonstrates
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的第三人称单数 )；告诫 | |
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quiescence
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| n.静止 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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103
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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chid
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| v.责骂，责备( chide的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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106
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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107
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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109
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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110
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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111
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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