In the evening, thanks to a few sous, which he always finds means to procure, the homuncio enters a theatre. On crossing that magic threshold, he becomes transfigured; he was the street Arab, he becomes the titi.[18] Theatres are a sort of ship turned upside down with the keel in the air. It is in that keel that the titi huddle together. The titi is to the gamin what the moth is to the larva; the same being endowed with wings and soaring. It suffices for him to be there, with his radiance of happiness, with his power of enthusiasm and joy, with his hand-clapping, which resembles a clapping of wings, to confer on that narrow, dark, fetid, sordid, unhealthy, hideous, abominable keel, the name of Paradise.
[18] Chicken: slang allusion to the noise made in calling poultry.
Bestow on an individual the useless and deprive him of the necessary, and you have the gamin.
The gamin is not devoid of literary intuition. His tendency, and we say it with the proper amount of regret, would not constitute classic taste. He is not very academic by nature. Thus, to give an example, the popularity of Mademoiselle Mars among that little audience of stormy children was seasoned with a touch of irony. The gamin called her Mademoiselle Muche--"hide yourself."
This being bawls and scoffs and ridicules and fights, has rags like a baby and tatters like a philosopher, fishes in the sewer, hunts in the cesspool, extracts mirth from foulness, whips up the squares with his wit, grins and bites, whistles and sings, shouts, and shrieks, tempers Alleluia with Matantur-lurette, chants every rhythm from the De Profundis to the Jack-pudding, finds without seeking, knows what he is ignorant of, is a Spartan to the point of thieving, is mad to wisdom, is lyrical to filth, would crouch down on Olympus, wallows in the dunghill and emerges from it covered with stars. The gamin of Paris is Rabelais in this youth.
He is not content with his trousers unless they have a watch-pocket.
He is not easily astonished, he is still less easily terrified, he makes songs on superstitions, he takes the wind out of exaggerations, he twits mysteries, he thrusts out his tongue at ghosts, he takes the poetry out of stilted things, he introduces caricature into epic extravaganzas. It is not that he is prosaic; far from that; but he replaces the solemn vision by the farcical phantasmagoria. If Adamastor were to appear to him, the street Arab would say: "Hi there! The bugaboo!"
那“小子”总有办法弄到几个苏，到了夜里，他便拿去看戏。一进那道具有魔力的大门，他的模样便完全变了，他先头还是个野孩，现在成了个titi①了。戏院是一种底舱在上、翻了身的船。titi便挤在那底舱里。titi对野孩来说，正如花蝴蝶之与幼虫，同是飞翔的生物。只要有他在，有他那种兴高采烈的喜色，热情欢乐的活力，拍翅膀似的掌声，那狭窄、恶臭、昏暗、污秽、腌臜、丑陋、令人作呕的底舱便够得上被称作天堂了。
①titi，巴黎街头的顽童。
你把一些无用的东西送给一个人，又从他身上把必需的东西剥夺掉，你便有了一个野孩。
对文学野孩并非没有直觉。他的爱好，我们不无歉意地说，也许一点也不倾向于古典方面。他生来就不怎么有学院派的气息。因此，举个例子，马尔斯小姐的声望在那一小群翻江倒海的孩子们中是带点讽刺味的。野孩称她为“妙小姐”。这孩子叫、笑、闹、斗，衣服褛裂如缨络，形容寒伧如学究，在溷水沟里捕鱼，在污泥地里行猎，从垃圾堆里逗乐，在十字街头冷嘲热讽、讥诮、挖苦、吹口哨、唱歌、喝彩、唾骂，用烂污小调来调剂颂主诗歌，能唱各种歌曲，从“从深渊的底里”①直到“狗上床”，能得到他没找到的东西，能了解他所不知道的事物，顽强到不择手段，狂妄到心安理得，多情到逐臭纳污，能蹲在神山上面，滚进粪土堆中，出来却沾满一身星斗。巴黎的野孩，就是具体而微的拉伯雷。
①安葬时教士所唱的祈祷经。
他不欣赏自己的裤子，除非它有一个表袋。
他不轻易感到惊奇，更不容易恐惧，他用歌谣讥刺迷信，他戳穿谰言妄语，嘲讪神异，对着鬼怪伸舌头，拆垮虚张声势的空架子，丑化歌功颂德的谀词。那并不是因为他平庸，远不是那样，而是因为他以离奇怪诞的幻影代替了那庄严妙相。假使风暴神出现在那野孩的眼前，他也许会说：“哟！马虎子。”
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