ferragus-第28部分

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person　buried　here　who　didn't　belong　to　the　parish。　Everybody　knows
everybody　else　in　this　place。　Does　monsieurWhy；　he's　gone！〃

Some　days　had　elapsed　when　a　man　dressed　in　black　called　at　the　house
of　Monsieur　Jules　Desmarets；　and　without　asking　to　see　him　carried　up
to　the　chamber　of　his　wife　a　large　porphyry　vase；　on　which　were
inscribed　the　words：


　　　　　　INVITA　LEGE
　　　　CONJUGI　MOERENTI
　　　　FILIOLAE　CINERES
　　　　　　RESTITUIT
　AMICIS　XII。　JUVANTIBUS
　　　MORIBUNDUS　PATER。


〃What　a　man！〃　cried　Jules；　bursting　into　tears。

Eight　days　sufficed　the　husband　to　obey　all　the　wishes　of　his　wife；
and　to　arrange　his　own　affairs。　He　sold　his　practice　to　a　brother　of
Martin　Falleix；　and　left　Paris　while　the　authorities　were　still
discussing　whether　it　was　lawful　for　a　citizen　to　dispose　of　the　body
of　his　wife。

*****

Who　has　not　encountered　on　the　boulevards　of　Paris；　at　the　turn　of　a
street；　or　beneath　the　arcades　of　the　Palais…Royal；　or　in　any　part　of
the　world　where　chance　may　offer　him　the　sight；　a　being；　man　or　woman；
at　whose　aspect　a　thousand　confused　thoughts　spring　into　his　mind？　At
that　sight　we　are　suddenly　interested；　either　by　features　of　some
fantastic　conformation　which　reveal　an　agitated　life；　or　by　a　singular
effect　of　the　whole　person；　produced　by　gestures；　air；　gait；　clothes；
or　by　some　deep；　intense　look；　or　by　other　inexpressible　signs　which
seize　our　minds　suddenly　and　forcibly　without　our　being　able　to
explain　even　to　ourselves　the　cause　of　our　emotion。　The　next　day　other
thoughts　and　other　images　have　carried　out　of　sight　that　passing
dream。　But　if　we　meet　the　same　personage　again；　either　passing　at　some
fixed　hour；　like　the　clerk　of　a　mayor's　office；　or　wandering　about　the
public　promenades；　like　those　individuals　who　seem　to　be　a　sort　of
furniture　of　the　streets　of　Paris；　and　who　are　always　to　be　found　in
public　places；　at　first　representations　or　noted　restaurants；then
this　being　fastens　himself　or　herself　on　our　memory；　and　remains　there
like　the　first　volume　of　a　novel　the　end　of　which　is　lost。　We　are
tempted　to　question　this　unknown　person；　and　say；　〃Who　are　you？〃　〃Why
are　you　lounging　here？〃　〃By　what　right　do　you　wear　that　pleated
ruffle；　that　faded　waistcoat；　and　carry　that　cane　with　an　ivory　top；
why　those　blue　spectacles；　for　what　reason　do　you　cling　to　that　cravat
of　a　dead　and　gone　fashion？〃　Among　these　wandering　creations　some
belong　to　the　species　of　the　Greek　Hermae；　they　say　nothing　to　the
soul；　/they　are　there/；　and　that　is　all。　Why？　is　known　to　none。　Such
figure　are　a　type　of　those　used　by　sculptors　for　the　four　Seasons；　for
Commerce；　for　Plenty；　etc。　Some　othersformer　lawyers；　old　merchants；
elderly　generalsmove　and　walk；　and　yet　seem　stationary。　Like　old
trees　that　are　half　uprooted　by　the　current　of　a　river；　they　seem
never　to　take　part　in　the　torrent　of　Paris；　with　its　youthful；　active
crowd。　It　is　impossible　to　know　if　their　friends　have　forgotten　to
bury　them；　or　whether　they　have　escaped　out　of　their　coffins。　At　any
rate；　they　have　reached　the　condition　of　semi…fossils。

One　of　these　Parisian　Melmoths　had　come　within　a　few　days　into　a
neighborhood　of　sober；　quiet　people；　who；　when　the　weather　is　fine；
are　invariably　to　be　found　in　the　space　which　lies　between　the　south
entrance　of　the　Luxembourg　and　the　north　entrance　of　the　Observatoire；
a　space　without　a　name；　the　neutral　space　of　Paris。　There；　Paris　is
no　longer；　and　there；　Paris　still　lingers。　The　spot　is　a　mingling　of
street；　square；　boulevard；　fortification；　garden；　avenue；　high…road；
province；　and　metropolis；　certainly；　all　of　that　is　to　be　found　there；
and　yet　the　place　is　nothing　of　all　that；it　is　a　desert。　Around　this
spot　without　a　name　stand　the　Foundling　hospital；　the　Bourbe；　the
Cochin　hospital；　the　Capucines；　the　hospital　La　Rochefoucauld；　the
Deaf　and　Dumb　Asylum；　the　hospital　of　the　Val…de…Grace；　in　short；　all
the　vices　and　all　the　misfortunes　of　Paris　find　their　asylum　there。
And　（that　nothing　may　lack　in　this　philanthropic　centre）　Science　there
studies　the　tides　and　longitudes；　Monsieur　de　Chateaubriand　has
erected　the　Marie…Therese　Infirmary；　and　the　Carmelites　have　founded　a
convent。　The　great　events　of　life　are　represented　by　bells　which　ring
incessantly　through　this　desert；for　the　mother　giving　birth；　for　the
babe　that　is　born；　for　the　vice　that　succumbs；　for　the　toiler　who
dies；　for　the　virgin　who　prays；　for　the　old　man　shaking　with　cold；　for
genius　self…deluded。　And　a　few　steps　off　is　the　cemetery　of　Mont…
Parnasse；　where；　hour　after　hour；　the　sorry　funerals　of　the　faubourg
Saint…Marceau　wend　their　way。　This　esplanade；　which　commands　a　view　of
Paris；　has　been　taken　possession　of　by　bowl…players；　it　is；　in　fact；　a
sort　of　bowling　green　frequented　by　old　gray　faces；　belonging　to
kindly；　worthy　men；　who　seem　to　continue　the　race　of　our　ancestors；
whose　countenances　must　only　be　compared　with　those　of　their
surroundings。

The　man　who　had　become；　during　the　last　few　days；　an　inhabitant　of
this　desert　region；　proved　an　assiduous　attendant　at　these　games　of
bowls；　and　must；　undoubtedly；　be　considered　the　most　striking　creature
of　these　various　groups；　who　（if　it　is　permissible　to　liken　Parisians
to　the　different　orders　of　zoology）　belonged　to　the　genus　mollusk。　The
new…comer　kept　sympathetic　step　with　the　/cochonnet/；the　little　bowl
which　serves　as　a　goal　and　on　which　the　interest　of　the　game　must
centre。　He　leaned　against　a　tree　when　the　/cochonnet/　stopped；　then；
with　the　same　attention　that　a　dog　gives　to　his　master's　gestures；　he
looked　at　the　other　bowls　flying　through　the　air；　or　rolling　along　the
ground。　You　might　have　taken　him　for　the　weird　and　watchful　genii　of
the　/cochonnet/。　He　said　nothing；　and　the　bowl…playersthe　most
fanatic　men　that　can　be　encountered　among　the　sectarians　of　any　faith
had　never　asked　the　reason　of　his　dogged　silence；　in　fact；　the　most
observing　of　them　thought　him　deaf　and　dumb。

When　it　happened　that　the　distances　between　the　bowls　and　the
/cochonnet/　had　to　be　measured；　the　cane　of　this　silent　being　was　used
as　a　measure；　the　players　coming　up　and　taking　it　from　the　icy　hands
of　the　old　man　and　returning　it　without　a　word　or　even　a　sign　of
friendliness。　The　loan　of　his　cane　seemed　a　servitude　to　which　he　had
negatively　consented。　When　a　shower　fell；　he　stayed　near　the
/cochonnet/；　the　slave　of　the　bowls；　and　the　guardian　of　the
unfinished　game。　Rain　affected　him　no　more　than　the　fine　weather　did；
he　was；　like　the　players　themselves；　an　intermediary　species　between　a
Parisian　who　has　the　lowest　intellect　of　his　kind　and　an　animal　which
has　the　highest。

In　other　respects；　pallid　and　shrunken；　indifferent　to　his　own　person；
vacant　in　mind；　he　often　came　bareheaded；　showing　his　sparse　white
hair；　and　his　square；　yellow；　bald　skull；　like　the　knee　of　a　beggar
seen　through　his　tattered　trousers。　His　mouth　was　half…open；　no　ideas
were　in　his　glance；　no　precise　object　appeared　in　his　movements；　he
never　smiled；　he　never　raised　his　eyes　to　heaven；　but　kept　them
habitually　on　the　ground；　where　he　seemed　to　be　looking　for　something。
At　four　o'clock　an　old　woman　arrived；　to　take　him　Heaven　knows　where；
which　she　did　by　towing　him　along　by　the　arm；　as　a　young　girl　drags　a
wilful　goat　which　still　wants　to　browse　by　the　wayside。　This　old　man
was　a　horrible　thing　to　see。

In　the　afternoon　of　the　day　when　Jules　Desmarets　left　Paris；　his
travelling…carriage；　in　which　he　was　alone；　passed　rapidly　through　the
rue　de　l'Est；　and　came　out　upon　the　esplanade　of　the　Observatoire　at
the　moment　when　the　old　man；　leaning　against　a　tree；　had　allowed　his
cane　to　be　taken　from　his　hand　amid　the　noisy　vociferations　of　the
players；　pacifically　irritated。　Jules；　thinking　that　he　recognized
that　face；　felt　an　impulse　to　stop；　and　at　the　same　instant　the
carriage　came　to　a　standstill；　for　the　postilion；　hemmed　in　by　some
handcarts；　had　too　much　respect　for　the　game　to　call　upon　the　players
to　make　way　for　him。

〃It　is　he！〃　said　Jules；　beholding　in　that　human　wreck；　Ferragus
XXIII。；　chief　of　the　Devorants。　Then；　after　a　pause；　he　added；　〃How　he
loved　her！Go　on；　postilion。〃








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