A PROCURATOR'S DINNER
However brilliant had been the part played by Porthos in the duel1, it had not made him forget the dinner of the procurator's wife.
On the morrow he received the last touches of Mousqueton's brush for an hour, and took his way toward the Rue2 aux Ours with the steps of a man who was doubly in favor with fortune.
His heart beat, but not like D'Artagnan's with a young and impatient love. No; a more material interest stirred his blood. He was about at last to pass that mysterious threshold, to climb those unknown stairs by which, one by one, the old crowns of M. Coquenard had ascended3. He was about to see in reality a certain coffer of which he had twenty times beheld4 the image in his dreams--a coffer long and deep, locked, bolted, fastened in the wall; a coffer of which he had so often heard, and which the hands--a little wrinkled, it is true, but still not without elegance--of the procurator's wife were about to open to his admiring looks.
And then he--a wanderer on the earth, a man without fortune, a man without family, a soldier accustomed to inns, cabarets, taverns5, and restaurants, a lover of wine forced to depend upon chance treats--was about to partake of family meals, to enjoy the pleasures of a comfortable establishment, and to give himself up to those little attentions which "the harder one is, the more they please," as old soldiers say.
To come in the capacity of a cousin, and seat himself every day at a good table; to smooth the yellow, wrinkled brow of the old procurator; to pluck the clerks a little by teaching them BASSETTE, PASSE-DIX, and LANSQUENET, in their utmost nicety, and winning from them, by way of fee for the lesson he would give them in an hour, their savings6 of a month--all this was enormously delightful7 to Porthos.
The Musketeer could not forget the evil reports which then prevailed, and which indeed have survived them, of the procurators of the period--meanness, stinginess, fasts; but as, after all, excepting some few acts of economy which Porthos had always found very unseasonable, the procurator's wife had been tolerably liberal--that is, be it understood, for a procurator's wife--he hoped to see a household of a highly comfortable kind.
And yet, at the very door the Musketeer began to entertain some doubts. The approach was not such as to prepossess people--an ill-smelling, dark passage, a staircase half- lighted by bars through which stole a glimmer8 from a neighboring yard; on the first floor a low door studded with enormous nails, like the principal gate of the Grand Chatelet.
Porthos knocked with his hand. A tall, pale clerk, his face shaded by a forest of virgin9 hair, opened the door, and bowed with the air of a man forced at once to respect in another lofty stature10, which indicated strength, the military dress, which indicated rank, and a ruddy countenance11, which indicated familiarity with good living.
A shorter clerk came behind the first, a taller clerk behind the second, a stripling of a dozen years rising behind the third. In all, three clerks and a half, which, for the time, argued a very extensive clientage.
Although the Musketeer was not expected before one o'clock, the procurator's wife had been on the watch ever since midday, reckoning that the heart, or perhaps the stomach, of her lover would bring him before his time.
Mme. Coquenard therefore entered the office from the house at the same moment her guest entered from the stairs, and the appearance of the worthy12 lady relieved him from an awkward embarrassment13. The clerks surveyed him with great curiosity, and he, not knowing well what to say to this ascending14 and descending15 scale, remained tongue-tied.
"It is my cousin!" cried the procurator's wife. "Come in, come in, Monsieur Porthos!"
The name of Porthos produced its effect upon the clerks, who began to laugh; but Porthos turned sharply round, and every countenance quickly recovered its gravity.
They reached the office of the procurator after having passed through the antechamber in which the clerks were, and the study in which they ought to have been. This last apartment was a sort of dark room, littered with papers. On quitting the study they left the kitchen on the right, and entered the reception room.
All these rooms, which communicated with one another, did not inspire Porthos favorably. Words might be heard at a distance through all these open doors. Then, while passing, he had cast a rapid, investigating glance into the kitchen; and he was obliged to confess to himself, to the shame of the procurator's wife and his own regret, that he did not see that fire, that animation16, that bustle17, which when a good repast is on foot prevails generally in that sanctuary18 of good living.
The procurator had without doubt been warned of his visit, as he expressed no surprise at the sight of Porthos, who advanced toward him with a sufficiently19 easy air, and saluted20 him courteously21.
"We are cousins, it appears, Monsieur Porthos?" said the procurator, rising, yet supporting his weight upon the arms of his cane22 chair.
The old man, wrapped in a large black doublet, in which the whole of his slender body was concealed23, was brisk and dry. His little gray eyes shone like carbuncles, and appeared, with his grinning mouth, to be the only part of his face in which life survived. Unfortunately the legs began to refuse their service to this bony machine. During the last five or six months that this weakness had been felt, the worthy procurator had nearly become the slave of his wife.
The cousin was received with resignation, that was all. M. Coquenard, firm upon his legs, would have declined all relationship with M. Porthos.
"Yes, monsieur, we are cousins," said Porthos, without being disconcerted, as he had never reckoned upon being received enthusiastically by the husband.
"By the female side, I believe?" said the procurator, maliciously24.
Porthos did not feel the ridicule25 of this, and took it for a piece of simplicity26, at which he laughed in his large mustache. Mme. Coquenard, who knew that a simple-minded procurator was a very rare variety in the species, smiled a little, and colored a great deal.
M. Coquenard had, since the arrival of Porthos, frequently cast his eyes with great uneasiness upon a large chest placed in front of his oak desk. Porthos comprehended that this chest, although it did not correspond in shape with that which he had seen in his dreams, must be the blessed coffer, and he congratulated himself that the reality was several feet higher than the dream.
M. Coquenard did not carry his genealogical investigations27 any further; but withdrawing his anxious look from the chest and fixing it upon Porthos, he contented28 himself with saying, "Monsieur our cousin will do us the favor of dining with us once before his departure for the campaign, will he not, Madame Coquenard?"
This time Porthos received the blow right in his stomach, and felt it. It appeared likewise that Mme. Coquenard was not less affected29 by it on her part, for she added, "My cousin will not return if he finds that we do not treat him kindly30; but otherwise he has so little time to pass in Paris, and consequently to spare to us, that we must entreat31 him to give us every instant he can call his own previous to his departure."
"Oh, my legs, my poor legs! where are you?" murmured Coquenard, and he tried to smile.
This succor32, which came to Porthos at the moment in which he was attacked in his gastronomic33 hopes, inspired much gratitude34 in the Musketeer toward the procurator's wife.
The hour of dinner soon arrived. They passed into the eating room--a large dark room situated35 opposite the kitchen.
The clerks, who, as it appeared, had smelled unusual perfumes in the house, were of military punctuality, and held their stools in hand quite ready to sit down. Their jaws36 moved preliminarily with fearful threatenings.
"Indeed!" thought Porthos, casting a glance at the three hungry clerks-for the errand boy, as might be expected, was not admitted to the honors of the magisterial37 table. "in my cousin's place, I would not keep such gourmands38! They look like shipwrecked sailors who have not eaten for six weeks."
M. Coquenard entered, pushed along upon his armchair with casters by Mme. Coquenard, whom Porthos assisted in rolling her husband up to the table. He had scarcely entered when he began to agitate39 his nose and his jaws after the example of his clerks.
"Oh, oh!" said he; "here is a soup which is rather inviting40."
"What the devil can they smell so extraordinary in this soup?" said Porthos, at the sight of a pale liquid, abundant but entirely41 free from meat, on the surface of which a few crusts swam about as rare as the islands of an archipelago.
Mme. Coquenard smiled, and upon a sign from her everyone eagerly took his seat.
M. Coquenard was served first, then Porthos. Afterward42 Mme. Coquenard filled her own plate, and distributed the crusts without soup to the impatient clerks. At this moment the door of the dining room unclosed with a creak, and Porthos perceived through the half-open flap the little clerk who, not being allowed to take part in the feast, ate his dry bread in the passage with the double odor of the dining room and kitchen.
After the soup the maid brought a boiled fowl43--a piece of magnificence which caused the eyes of the diners to dilate44 in such a manner that they seemed ready to burst.
"One may see that you love your family, Madame Coquenard," said the procurator, with a smile that was almost tragic45. "You are certainly treating your cousin very handsomely!"
The poor fowl was thin, and covered with one of those thick, bristly skins through which the teeth cannot penetrate46 with all their efforts. The fowl must have been sought for a long time on the perch47, to which it had retired48 to die of old age.
"The devil!" thought Porthos, "this is poor work. I respect old age, but I don't much like it boiled or roasted."
And he looked round to see if anybody partook of his opinion; but on the contrary, he saw nothing but eager eyes which were devouring49, in anticipation50, that sublime51 fowl which was the object of his contempt.
Mme. Coquenard drew the dish toward her, skillfully detached the two great black feet, which she placed upon her husband's plate, cut off the neck, which with the head she put on one side for herself, raised the wing for Porthos, and then returned the bird otherwise intact to the servant who had brought it in, who disappeared with it before the Musketeer had time to examine the variations which disappointment produces upon faces, according to the characters and temperaments52 of those who experience it.
In the place of the fowl a dish of haricot beans made its appearance--an enormous dish in which some bones of mutton that at first sight one might have believed to have some meat on them pretended to show themselves.
But the clerks were not the dupes of this deceit, and their lugubrious53 looks settled down into resigned countenances54.
Mme. Coquenard distributed this dish to the young men with the moderation of a good housewife.
The time for wine came. M. Coquenard poured from a very small stone bottle the third of a glass for each of the young men, served himself in about the same proportion, and passed the bottle to Porthos and Mme. Coquenard.
The young men filled up their third of a glass with water; then, when they had drunk half the glass, they filled it up again, and continued to do so. This brought them, by the end of the repast, to swallowing a drink which from the color of the ruby55 had passed to that of a pale topaz.
Porthos ate his wing of the fowl timidly, and shuddered56 when he felt the knee of the procurator's wife under the table, as it came in search of his. He also drank half a glass of this sparingly served wine, and found it to be nothing but that horrible Montreuil--the terror of all expert palates.
M. Coquenard saw him swallowing this wine undiluted, and sighed deeply.
"Will you eat any of these beans, Cousin Porthos?" said Mme. Coquenard, in that tone which says, "Take my advice, don't touch them."
"Devil take me if I taste one of them!" murmured Porthos to himself, and then said aloud, "Thank you, my cousin, I am no longer hungry."
There was silence. Porthos could hardly keep his countenance.
The procurator repeated several times, "Ah, Madame Coquenard! Accept my compliments; your dinner has been a real feast. Lord, how I have eaten!"
M. Coquenard had eaten his soup, the black feet of the fowl, and the only mutton bone on which there was the least appearance of meat.
Porthos fancied they were mystifying him, and began to curl his mustache and knit his eyebrows57; but the knee of Mme. Coquenard gently advised him to be patient.
This silence and this interruption in serving, which were unintelligible58 to Porthos, had, on the contrary, a terrible meaning for the clerks. Upon a look from the procurator, accompanied by a smile from Mme. Coquenard, they arose slowly from the table, folded their napkins more slowly still, bowed, and retired.
"Go, young men! go and promote digestion59 by working," said the procurator, gravely.
The clerks gone, Mme. Coquenard rose and took from a buffet60 a piece of cheese, some preserved quinces, and a cake which she had herself made of almonds and honey.
M. Coquenard knit his eyebrows because there were too many good things. Porthos bit his lips because he saw not the wherewithal to dine. He looked to see if the dish of beans was still there; the dish of beans had disappeared.
"A positive feast!" cried M. Coquenard, turning about in his chair, "a real feast, EPULCE EPULORUM. Lucullus dines with Lucullus."
Porthos looked at the bottle, which was Dear him, and hoped that with wine, bread, and cheese, he might make a dinner; but wine was wanting, the bottle was empty. M. and Mme. Coquenard did not seem to observe it.
"This is fine!" said Porthos to himself; "I am prettily61 caught!"
He passed his tongue over a spoonful of preserves, and stuck his teeth into the sticky pastry62 of Mme. Coquenard.
"Now," said he, "the sacrifice is consummated63! Ah! if I had not the hope of peeping with Madame Coquenard into her husband's chest!"
M. Coquenard, after the luxuries of such a repast, which he called an excess, felt the want of a siesta64. Porthos began to hope that the thing would take place at the present sitting, and in that same locality; but the procurator would listen to nothing, he would be taken to his room, and was not satisfied till he was close to his chest, upon the edge of which, for still greater precaution, he placed his feet.
The procurator's wife took Porthos into an adjoining room, and they began to lay the basis of a reconciliation65.
"You can come and dine three times a week," said Mme. Coquenard.
"Thanks, madame!" said Porthos, "but I don't like to abuse your kindness; besides, I must think of my outfit66!"
"That's true," said the procurator's wife, groaning67, "that unfortunate outfit!"
"Alas68, yes," said Porthos, "it is so."
"But of what, then, does the equipment of your company consist, Monsieur Porthos?"
"Oh, of many things!" said Porthos. "The Musketeers are, as you know, picked soldiers, and they require many things useless to the Guardsmen or the Swiss."
"But yet, detail them to me."
"Why, they may amount to--", said Porthos, who preferred discussing the total to taking them one by one.
The procurator's wife waited tremblingly.
"To how much?" said she. "I hope it does not exceed--" She stopped; speech failed her.
"Oh, no," said Porthos, "it does not exceed two thousand five hundred livres! I even think that with economy I could manage it with two thousand livres."
"Good God!" cried she, "two thousand livres! Why, that is a fortune!"
Porthos made a most significant grimace69; Mme. Coquenard understood it.
"I wished to know the detail," said she, "because, having many relatives in business, I was almost sure of obtaining things at a hundred per cent less than you would pay yourself."
"Ah, ah!" said Porthos, "that is what you meant to say!"
"Yes, dear Monsieur Porthos. Thus, for instance, don't you in the first place want a horse?"
"Yes, a horse."
"Well, then! I can just suit you."
"Ah!" said Porthos, brightening, "that's well as regards my horse; but I must have the appointments complete, as they include objects which a Musketeer alone can purchase, and which will not amount, besides, to more than three hundred livres."
"Three hundred livres? Then put down three hundred livres," said the procurator's wife, with a sigh.
Porthos smiled. It may be remembered that he had the saddle which came from Buckingham. These three hundred livres he reckoned upon putting snugly70 into his pocket.
"Then," continued he, "there is a horse for my lackey71, and my valise. As to my arms, it is useless to trouble you about them; I have them."
"A horse for your lackey?" resumed the procurator's wife, hesitatingly; "but that is doing things in lordly style, my friend."
"Ah, madame!" said Porthos, haughtily72; "do you take me for a beggar?"
"No; I only thought that a pretty mule73 makes sometimes as good an appearance as a horse, and it seemed to me that by getting a pretty mule for Mousqueton--"
"Well, agreed for a pretty mule," said Porthos; "you are right, I have seen very great Spanish nobles whose whole suite74 were mounted on mules75. But then you understand, Madame Coquenard, a mule with feathers and bells."
"Be satisfied," said the procurator's wife.
"There remains76 the valise," added Porthos.
"Oh, don't let that disturb you," cried Mme. Coquenard. "My husband has five or six valises; you shall choose the best. There is one in particular which he prefers in his journeys, large enough to hold all the world."
"Your valise is then empty?" asked Porthos, with simplicity.
"Certainly it is empty," replied the procurator's wife, in real innocence77.
"Ah, but the valise I want," cried Porthos, "is a well- filled one, my dear."
Madame uttered fresh sighs. Moliere had not written his scene in "L'Avare" then. Mme. Coquenard was in the dilemma78 of Harpagan.
Finally, the rest of the equipment was successively debated in the same manner; and the result of the sitting was that the procurator's wife should give eight hundred livres in money, and should furnish the horse and the mule which should have the honor of carrying Porthos and Mousqueton to glory.
These conditions being agreed to, Porthos took leave of Mme. Coquenard. The latter wished to detain him by darting79 certain tender glances; but Porthos urged the commands of duty, and the procurator's wife was obliged to give place to the king.
The Musketeer returned home hungry and in bad humor.
收听单词发音 |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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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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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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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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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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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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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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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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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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gastronomic
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| adj.美食（烹饪）法的，烹任学的 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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magisterial
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| adj.威风的，有权威的；adv.威严地 | |
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gourmands
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| n.喜欢吃喝的人，贪吃的人( gourmand的名词复数 )；美食主义 | |
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agitate
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| vi.(for,against)煽动，鼓动；vt.搅动 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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49
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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countenances
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| n.面容( countenance的名词复数 )；表情；镇静；道义支持 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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