章节正文
"There's a sell for you, master crusher," the convict added,
looking at the famous director of police.
"Come, strip!" said he of the Petite Rue Saint-Anne,
contemptuously.
"Why?" asked Collin. "There are ladies present; I deny nothing,
and surrender."
He paused, and looked round the room like an orator who is about
to overwhelm his audience.
"Take this down, Daddy Lachapelle," he went on, addressing a
little, white-haired old man who had seated himself at the end of
the table; and after drawing a printed form from the portfolio,
was proceeding to draw up a document. "I acknowledge myself to be
Jacques Collin, otherwise known as Trompe-la-Mort, condemned to
twenty years' penal servitude, and I have just proved that I have
come fairly by my nickname.--If I had as much as raised my hand,"
he went on, addressing the other lodgers, "those three sneaking
wretches yonder would have drawn claret on Mamma Vauquer's
domestic hearth. The rogues have laid their heads together to set
a trap for me."
Mme. Vauquer felt sick and faint at these words.
"Good Lord!" she cried, "this does give one a turn; and me at the
Gaite with him only last night!" she said to Sylvie.
"Summon your philosophy, mamma," Collin resumed. "Is it a
misfortune to have sat in my box at the Gaite yesterday evening?
After all, are you better than we are? The brand upon our
shoulders is less shameful than the brand set on your hearts, you
flabby members of a society rotten to the core. Not the best man
among you could stand up to me." His eyes rested upon Rastignac,
to whom he spoke with a pleasant smile that seemed strangely at
variance with the savage expression in his eyes.--"Our little
bargain still holds good, dear boy; you can accept any time you
like! Do you understand?" And he sang:
"A charming girl is my Fanchette
In her simplicity."
"Don't you trouble yourself," he went on; "I can get in my money.
They are too much afraid of me to swindle me."
The convicts' prison, its language and customs, its sudden sharp
transitions from the humorous to the horrible, its appalling
grandeur, its triviality and its dark depths, were all revealed
in turn by the speaker's discourse; he seemed to be no longer a
man, but the type and mouthpiece of a degenerate race, a brutal,
supple, clear-headed race of savages. In one moment Collin became
the poet of an inferno, wherein all thoughts and passions that
move human nature (save repentance) find a place. He looked about
him like a fallen archangel who is for war to the end. Rastignac
lowered his eyes, and acknowledged this kinship claimed by crime
as an expiation of his own evil thoughts.
"Who betrayed me?" said Collin, and his terrible eyes traveled
round the room. Suddenly they rested on Mlle. Michonneau.
"It was you, old cat!" he said. "That sham stroke of apoplexy was
your doing, lynx eyes! . . . Two words from me, and your throat
would be cut in less than a week, but I forgive you, I am a
Christian. You did not sell me either. But who did?----Aha! you
may rummage upstairs," he shouted, hearing the police officers
opening his cupboards and taking possession of his effects. "The
nest is empty, the birds flew away yesterday, and you will be
none the wiser. My ledgers are here," he said tapping his
forehead. "Now I know who sold me! It could only be that
blackguard Fil-de-Soie. That is who it was, old catchpoll, eh?"
he said, turning to the chief. "It was timed so neatly to get the
banknotes up above there. There is nothing left for you--spies!
As for Fil-de-Soie, he will be under the daisies in less than a
fortnight, even if you were to tell off the whole force to
protect him. How much did you give the Michonnette?" he asked of
the police officers. "A thousand crowns? Oh you Ninon in decay,
Pompadour in tatters, Venus of the graveyard, I was worth more
than that! If you had given me warning, you should have had six
thousand francs. Ah! you had no suspicion of that, old trafficker
in flesh and blood, or I should have had the preference. Yes, I
would have given six thousand francs to save myself an
inconvenient journey and some loss of money," he said, as they
fastened the handcuffs on his wrists. "These folks will amuse
themselves by dragging out this business till the end of time to
keep me idle. If they were to send me straight to jail, I should
soon be back at my old tricks in spite of the duffers at the Quai
des Orfevres. Down yonder they will all turn themselves inside
out to help their general--their good Trompe-la-Mort--to get
clear away. Is there a single one among you that can say, as I
can, that he has ten thousand brothers ready to do anything for
him?" he asked proudly. "There is some good there," he said
tapping his heart; "I have never betrayed any one!--Look you
here, you slut," he said to the old maid, "they are all afraid of
me, do you see? but the sight of you turns them sick. Rake in
your gains."
He was silent for a moment, and looked round at the lodgers'
faces.
"What dolts you are, all of you! Have you never seen a convict
before? A convict of Collin's stamp, whom you see before you, is
a man less weak-kneed than others; he lifts up his voice against
the colossal fraud of the Social Contract, as Jean Jacques did,
whose pupil he is proud to declare himself. In short, I stand
here single-handed against a Government and a whole subsidized
machinery of tribunals and police, and I am a match for them
all."
"Ye gods!" cried the painter, "what a magnificentsketch one
might make of him!"
"Look here, you gentlemen-in-waiting to his highness the gibbet,
master of ceremonies to the widow" (a nickname full of sombre
poetry, given by prisoners to the guillotine), "be a good fellow,
and tell me if it really was Fil-de-Soie who sold me. I don't
want him to suffer for some one else, that would not be fair."
But before the chief had time to answer, the rest of the party
returned from making their investigations upstairs. Everything
had been opened and inventoried. A few words passed between them
and the chief, and the official preliminaries were complete.
"Gentlemen," said Collin, addressing the lodgers, "they will take
me away directly. You have all made my stay among you very
agreeable, and I shall look back upon it with gratitude. Receive
my adieux, and permit me to send you figs from Provence."
He advanced a step or two, and then turned to look once more at
Rastignac.
"Good-bye, Eugene," he said, in a sad and gentle tone, a strange
transition from his previous rough and stern manner. "If you
should be hard up, I have left you a devoted friend," and, in
spite of his shackles, he managed to assume a posture of defence,
called, "One, two!" like a fencing-master, and lunged. "If
anything goes wrong, apply in that quarter. Man and money, all at
your service."
The strange speaker's manner was sufficientlyburlesque, so that
no one but Rastignac knew that there was a serious meaning
underlying the pantomime.
As soon as the police, soldiers, and detectives had left the
house, Sylvie, who was rubbing her mistress' temples with
vinegar, looked round at the bewildered lodgers.
"Well," said she, "he was a man, he was, for all that."
Her words broke the spell. Every one had been too much excited,
too much moved by very various feelings to speak. But now the
lodgers began to look at each other, and then all eyes were
turned at once on Mlle. Michonneau, a thin, shriveled, dead-
alive, mummy-like figure, crouching by the stove; her eyes were
downcast, as if she feared that the green eye-shade could not
shut out the expression of those faces from her. This figure and
the feeling of repulsion she had so long excited were explained
all at once. A smothered murmur filled the room; it was so
unanimous, that it seemed as if the same feeling of loathing had
pitched all the voices in one key. Mlle. Michonneau heard it, and
did not stir. It was Bianchon who was the first to move; he bent
over his neighbor, and said in a low voice, "If that creature is
going to stop here, and have dinner with us, I shall clear out."
In the twinkling of an eye it was clear that every one in the
room, save Poiret, was of the medical student's opinion, so that
the latter, strong in the support of the majority, went up to
that elderly person.
"You are more intimate with Mlle. Michonneau than the rest of
us," he said; "speak to her, make her understand that she must
go, and go at once."
"At once!" echoed Poiret in amazement.
Then he went across to the crouching figure, and spoke a few
words in her ear.
"I have paid beforehand for the quarter; I have as much right to
be here as any one else," she said, with a viperous look at the
boarders.
"Never mind that! we will club together and pay you the money
back," said Rastignac.
"Monsieur is taking Collin's part" she said, with a questioning,
malignant glance at the law student; "it is not difficult to
guess why."
Eugene started forward at the words, as if he meant to spring
upon her and wring her neck. That glance, and the depths of
treachery that it revealed, had been a hideous enlightenment.
"Let her alone!" cried the boarders.
Rastignac folded his arms and was silent.
"Let us have no more of Mlle. Judas," said the painter, turning
to Mme. Vauquer. "If you don't show the Michonneau the door,
madame, we shall all leave your shop, and wherever we go we shall
say that there are only convicts and spies left there. If you do
the other thing, we will hold our tongues about the business; for
when all is said and done, it might happen in the best society
until they brand them on the forehead, when they send them to the
hulks. They ought not to let convicts go about Paris disguised
like decent citizens, so as to carry on their antics like a set
of rascally humbugs, which they are."
At this Mme. Vauquer recovered miraculously. She sat up and
folded her arms; her eyes were wide open now, and there was no
sign of tears in them.
"Why, do you really mean to be the ruin of my establishment, my
dear sir? There is M. Vautrin----Goodness," she cried,
interrupting herself, "I can't help calling him by the name he
passed himself off by for an honest man! There is one room to let
already, and you want me to turn out two more lodgers in the
middle of the season, when no one is moving----"
"Gentlemen, let us take our hats and go and dine at Flicoteaux's
in the Place Sorbonne," cried Bianchon.
Mme. Vauquer glanced round, and saw in a moment on which side her
interest lay. She waddled across to Mlle. Michonneau.
"Come, now," she said; "you would not be the ruin of my
establishment, would you, eh? There's a dear, kind soul. You see
what a pass these gentlemen have brought me to; just go up to
your room for this evening."
"Never a bit of it!" cried the boarders. "She must go, and go
this minute!"
"But the poor lady has had no dinner," said Poiret, with piteous
entreaty.
"She can go and dine where she likes," shouted several voices.
"Turn her out, the spy!"
"Turn them both out! Spies!"
"Gentlemen," cried Poiret, his heart swelling with the courage
that love gives to the ovine male, "respect the weaker sex."
"Spies are of no sex!" said the painter.
"A precious sexorama!"
"Turn her into the streetorama!"
looking at the famous director of police.
"Come, strip!" said he of the Petite Rue Saint-Anne,
contemptuously.
"Why?" asked Collin. "There are ladies present; I deny nothing,
and surrender."
He paused, and looked round the room like an orator who is about
to overwhelm his audience.
"Take this down, Daddy Lachapelle," he went on, addressing a
little, white-haired old man who had seated himself at the end of
the table; and after drawing a printed form from the portfolio,
was proceeding to draw up a document. "I acknowledge myself to be
Jacques Collin, otherwise known as Trompe-la-Mort, condemned to
twenty years' penal servitude, and I have just proved that I have
come fairly by my nickname.--If I had as much as raised my hand,"
he went on, addressing the other lodgers, "those three sneaking
wretches yonder would have drawn claret on Mamma Vauquer's
domestic hearth. The rogues have laid their heads together to set
a trap for me."
Mme. Vauquer felt sick and faint at these words.
"Good Lord!" she cried, "this does give one a turn; and me at the
Gaite with him only last night!" she said to Sylvie.
"Summon your philosophy, mamma," Collin resumed. "Is it a
misfortune to have sat in my box at the Gaite yesterday evening?
After all, are you better than we are? The brand upon our
shoulders is less shameful than the brand set on your hearts, you
flabby members of a society rotten to the core. Not the best man
among you could stand up to me." His eyes rested upon Rastignac,
to whom he spoke with a pleasant smile that seemed strangely at
variance with the savage expression in his eyes.--"Our little
bargain still holds good, dear boy; you can accept any time you
like! Do you understand?" And he sang:
"A charming girl is my Fanchette
In her simplicity."
"Don't you trouble yourself," he went on; "I can get in my money.
They are too much afraid of me to swindle me."
The convicts' prison, its language and customs, its sudden sharp
transitions from the humorous to the horrible, its appalling
grandeur, its triviality and its dark depths, were all revealed
in turn by the speaker's discourse; he seemed to be no longer a
man, but the type and mouthpiece of a degenerate race, a brutal,
supple, clear-headed race of savages. In one moment Collin became
the poet of an inferno, wherein all thoughts and passions that
move human nature (save repentance) find a place. He looked about
him like a fallen archangel who is for war to the end. Rastignac
lowered his eyes, and acknowledged this kinship claimed by crime
as an expiation of his own evil thoughts.
"Who betrayed me?" said Collin, and his terrible eyes traveled
round the room. Suddenly they rested on Mlle. Michonneau.
"It was you, old cat!" he said. "That sham stroke of apoplexy was
your doing, lynx eyes! . . . Two words from me, and your throat
would be cut in less than a week, but I forgive you, I am a
Christian. You did not sell me either. But who did?----Aha! you
may rummage upstairs," he shouted, hearing the police officers
opening his cupboards and taking possession of his effects. "The
nest is empty, the birds flew away yesterday, and you will be
none the wiser. My ledgers are here," he said tapping his
forehead. "Now I know who sold me! It could only be that
blackguard Fil-de-Soie. That is who it was, old catchpoll, eh?"
he said, turning to the chief. "It was timed so neatly to get the
banknotes up above there. There is nothing left for you--spies!
As for Fil-de-Soie, he will be under the daisies in less than a
fortnight, even if you were to tell off the whole force to
protect him. How much did you give the Michonnette?" he asked of
the police officers. "A thousand crowns? Oh you Ninon in decay,
Pompadour in tatters, Venus of the graveyard, I was worth more
than that! If you had given me warning, you should have had six
thousand francs. Ah! you had no suspicion of that, old trafficker
in flesh and blood, or I should have had the preference. Yes, I
would have given six thousand francs to save myself an
inconvenient journey and some loss of money," he said, as they
fastened the handcuffs on his wrists. "These folks will amuse
themselves by dragging out this business till the end of time to
keep me idle. If they were to send me straight to jail, I should
soon be back at my old tricks in spite of the duffers at the Quai
des Orfevres. Down yonder they will all turn themselves inside
out to help their general--their good Trompe-la-Mort--to get
clear away. Is there a single one among you that can say, as I
can, that he has ten thousand brothers ready to do anything for
him?" he asked proudly. "There is some good there," he said
tapping his heart; "I have never betrayed any one!--Look you
here, you slut," he said to the old maid, "they are all afraid of
me, do you see? but the sight of you turns them sick. Rake in
your gains."
He was silent for a moment, and looked round at the lodgers'
faces.
"What dolts you are, all of you! Have you never seen a convict
before? A convict of Collin's stamp, whom you see before you, is
a man less weak-kneed than others; he lifts up his voice against
the colossal fraud of the Social Contract, as Jean Jacques did,
whose pupil he is proud to declare himself. In short, I stand
here single-handed against a Government and a whole subsidized
machinery of tribunals and police, and I am a match for them
all."
"Ye gods!" cried the painter, "what a magnificentsketch one
might make of him!"
"Look here, you gentlemen-in-waiting to his highness the gibbet,
master of ceremonies to the widow" (a nickname full of sombre
poetry, given by prisoners to the guillotine), "be a good fellow,
and tell me if it really was Fil-de-Soie who sold me. I don't
want him to suffer for some one else, that would not be fair."
But before the chief had time to answer, the rest of the party
returned from making their investigations upstairs. Everything
had been opened and inventoried. A few words passed between them
and the chief, and the official preliminaries were complete.
"Gentlemen," said Collin, addressing the lodgers, "they will take
me away directly. You have all made my stay among you very
agreeable, and I shall look back upon it with gratitude. Receive
my adieux, and permit me to send you figs from Provence."
He advanced a step or two, and then turned to look once more at
Rastignac.
"Good-bye, Eugene," he said, in a sad and gentle tone, a strange
transition from his previous rough and stern manner. "If you
should be hard up, I have left you a devoted friend," and, in
spite of his shackles, he managed to assume a posture of defence,
called, "One, two!" like a fencing-master, and lunged. "If
anything goes wrong, apply in that quarter. Man and money, all at
your service."
The strange speaker's manner was sufficientlyburlesque, so that
no one but Rastignac knew that there was a serious meaning
underlying the pantomime.
As soon as the police, soldiers, and detectives had left the
house, Sylvie, who was rubbing her mistress' temples with
vinegar, looked round at the bewildered lodgers.
"Well," said she, "he was a man, he was, for all that."
Her words broke the spell. Every one had been too much excited,
too much moved by very various feelings to speak. But now the
lodgers began to look at each other, and then all eyes were
turned at once on Mlle. Michonneau, a thin, shriveled, dead-
alive, mummy-like figure, crouching by the stove; her eyes were
downcast, as if she feared that the green eye-shade could not
shut out the expression of those faces from her. This figure and
the feeling of repulsion she had so long excited were explained
all at once. A smothered murmur filled the room; it was so
unanimous, that it seemed as if the same feeling of loathing had
pitched all the voices in one key. Mlle. Michonneau heard it, and
did not stir. It was Bianchon who was the first to move; he bent
over his neighbor, and said in a low voice, "If that creature is
going to stop here, and have dinner with us, I shall clear out."
In the twinkling of an eye it was clear that every one in the
room, save Poiret, was of the medical student's opinion, so that
the latter, strong in the support of the majority, went up to
that elderly person.
"You are more intimate with Mlle. Michonneau than the rest of
us," he said; "speak to her, make her understand that she must
go, and go at once."
"At once!" echoed Poiret in amazement.
Then he went across to the crouching figure, and spoke a few
words in her ear.
"I have paid beforehand for the quarter; I have as much right to
be here as any one else," she said, with a viperous look at the
boarders.
"Never mind that! we will club together and pay you the money
back," said Rastignac.
"Monsieur is taking Collin's part" she said, with a questioning,
malignant glance at the law student; "it is not difficult to
guess why."
Eugene started forward at the words, as if he meant to spring
upon her and wring her neck. That glance, and the depths of
treachery that it revealed, had been a hideous enlightenment.
"Let her alone!" cried the boarders.
Rastignac folded his arms and was silent.
"Let us have no more of Mlle. Judas," said the painter, turning
to Mme. Vauquer. "If you don't show the Michonneau the door,
madame, we shall all leave your shop, and wherever we go we shall
say that there are only convicts and spies left there. If you do
the other thing, we will hold our tongues about the business; for
when all is said and done, it might happen in the best society
until they brand them on the forehead, when they send them to the
hulks. They ought not to let convicts go about Paris disguised
like decent citizens, so as to carry on their antics like a set
of rascally humbugs, which they are."
At this Mme. Vauquer recovered miraculously. She sat up and
folded her arms; her eyes were wide open now, and there was no
sign of tears in them.
"Why, do you really mean to be the ruin of my establishment, my
dear sir? There is M. Vautrin----Goodness," she cried,
interrupting herself, "I can't help calling him by the name he
passed himself off by for an honest man! There is one room to let
already, and you want me to turn out two more lodgers in the
middle of the season, when no one is moving----"
"Gentlemen, let us take our hats and go and dine at Flicoteaux's
in the Place Sorbonne," cried Bianchon.
Mme. Vauquer glanced round, and saw in a moment on which side her
interest lay. She waddled across to Mlle. Michonneau.
"Come, now," she said; "you would not be the ruin of my
establishment, would you, eh? There's a dear, kind soul. You see
what a pass these gentlemen have brought me to; just go up to
your room for this evening."
"Never a bit of it!" cried the boarders. "She must go, and go
this minute!"
"But the poor lady has had no dinner," said Poiret, with piteous
entreaty.
"She can go and dine where she likes," shouted several voices.
"Turn her out, the spy!"
"Turn them both out! Spies!"
"Gentlemen," cried Poiret, his heart swelling with the courage
that love gives to the ovine male, "respect the weaker sex."
"Spies are of no sex!" said the painter.
"A precious sexorama!"
"Turn her into the streetorama!"
- director [di´rektə]
n.指导者；....长；导演 (初中英语单词) - acknowledge [ək´nɔlidʒ] vt.(公开)承认；感谢 (初中英语单词)
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz] ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词)
- philosophy [fi´lɔsəfi] n.哲学；人生观 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- strangely [´streindʒli] ad.奇怪地；陌生地 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- charming [´tʃɑ:miŋ] a.可爱的；极好的 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- suspicion [sə´spiʃən] n.怀(猜)疑；嫌疑 (初中英语单词)
- proudly [´praudli] ad.骄傲地；傲慢地 (初中英语单词)
- painter [´peintə] n.画家；(油)漆工 (初中英语单词)
- magnificent [mæg´nifisənt] a.壮丽的；豪华的 (初中英语单词)
- sketch [sketʃ] n.素描；短剧 v.草拟 (初中英语单词)
- gratitude [´grætitju:d] n.感激，感谢 (初中英语单词)
- advanced [əd´vɑ:nst] a.先进的；高级的 (初中英语单词)
- previous [´pri:viəs] a.先，前，以前的 (初中英语单词)
- sufficiently [sə´fiʃəntli] ad.充分地，足够地 (初中英语单词)
- medical [´medikəl] a.医学的；医疗的 (初中英语单词)
- intimate [´intimit] a.亲密的 n.知己 (初中英语单词)
- wherever [weər´evə] conj.无论在哪里 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- establishment [i´stæbliʃmənt] n.建(成)立；研究所 (初中英语单词)
- convict [kən´vikt, ´kɔnvikt] vt.证明...有罪 n.罪犯 (高中英语单词)
- overwhelm [,əuvə´welm] vt.压倒；淹没；打翻 (高中英语单词)
- proceeding [prə´si:diŋ] n.程序；进程；行动 (高中英语单词)
- document [´dɔkjumənt] n.公文；文件；证件 (高中英语单词)
- hearth [hɑ:θ] n.炉边；家庭(生活) (高中英语单词)
- rotten [´rɔtn] a.腐烂的；腐朽的 (高中英语单词)
- discourse [´diskɔ:s] n.论文；演说；说教 (高中英语单词)
- wherein [weər´in] ad.那里面 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- preference [´prefərəns] n.优先选择；偏爱(物) (高中英语单词)
- highness [´hainis] n.高，高贵，高尚 (高中英语单词)
- hideous [´hidiəs] a.丑陋的，可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- decent [´di:sənt] a.体面的，正派的 (高中英语单词)
- orator [´ɔrətə] n.演说者；雄辩家 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- shameful [´ʃeimfəl] a.可耻的；猥亵的 (英语四级单词)
- humorous [´hju:mərəs] a.富于幽默的，诙谐的 (英语四级单词)
- degenerate [di´dʒenərət, -reit] vi.腐化，堕落 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- colossal [kə´lɔsəl] a.庞大的；异常的 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- devoted [di´vəutid] a.献身...的，忠实的 (英语四级单词)
- elderly [´eldəli] a. 较老的，年长的 (英语四级单词)
- beforehand [bi´fɔ:hænd] ad.事先；提前 (英语四级单词)
- servitude [´sə:vitju:d] n.奴隶状态；苦役 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- nickname [´nikneim] n.绰号 vt.给...起绰口 (英语六级单词)
- posture [´pɔstʃə] n.姿势 v.故作姿态 (英语六级单词)
- burlesque [bə:´lesk] n.&a.滑稽戏(的) (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
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