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A Passion in the Desert-Part1_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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though he succeeded in cutting it down. At eventide the king of the



desert fell; the sound of its fall resounded far and wide, like a sigh

in the solitude; the soldier shuddered as though he had heard some



voice predicting woe.

But like an heir who does not long bewail a deceased relative, he tore



off from this beautiful tree the tall broad green leaves which are its

poetic adornment, and used them to mend the mat on which he was to



sleep.

Fatigued by the heat and his work, he fell asleep under the red



curtains of his wet cave.

In the middle of the night his sleep was troubled by an extraordinary



noise; he sat up, and the deep silence around allowed him to

distinguish the alternative accents of a respiration whose savage



energy could not belong to a human creature.

A profoundterror, increased still further by the darkness, the



silence, and his waking images, froze his heart within him. He almost

felt his hair stand on end, when by straining his eyes to their utmost



he perceived through the shadow two faint yellow lights. At first he

attributed these lights to the reflections of his own pupils, but soon



the vivid brilliance of the night aided him gradually to distinguish

the objects around him in the cave, and he beheld a huge animal lying



but two steps from him. Was it a lion, a tiger, or a crocodile?

The Provencal was not sufficiently educated to know under what species



his enemy ought to be classed; but his fright was all the greater, as

his ignorance led him to imagine all terrors at once; he endured a



cruel torture, noting every variation of the breathing close to him

without daring to make the slightest movement. An odor, pungent like



that of a fox, but more penetrating, more profound,--so to speak,--

filled the cave, and when the Provencal became sensible of this, his



terror reached its height, for he could no longer doubt the proximity

of a terrible companion, whose royal dwelling served him for a



shelter.

Presently the reflection of the moon descending on the horizon lit up



the den, rendering gradually visible and resplendent the spotted skin

of a panther.



This lion of Egypt slept, curled up like a big dog, the peaceful

possessor of a sumptuous niche at the gate of an hotel; its eyes



opened for a moment and closed again; its face was turned towards the

man. A thousand confused thoughts passed through the Frenchman's mind;



first he thought of killing it with a bullet from his gun, but he saw

there was not enough distance between them for him to take proper aim



--the shot would miss the mark. And if it were to wake!--the thought

made his limbs rigid. He listened to his own heart beating in the



midst of the silence, and cursed the too violent pulsations which the

flow of blood brought on, fearing to disturb that sleep which allowed



him time to think of some means of escape.

Twice he placed his hand on his scimiter, intending to cut off the



head of his enemy; but the difficulty of cutting the stiff short hair

compelled him to abandon this daringproject. To miss would be to die



for CERTAIN, he thought; he preferred the chances of fair fight, and

made up his mind to wait till morning; the morning did not leave him



long to wait.

He could now examine the panther at ease; its muzzle was smeared with



blood.

"She's had a good dinner," he thought, without troubling himself as to



whether her feast might have been on human flesh. "She won't be hungry

when she gets up."



It was a female. The fur on her belly and flanks was glistening white;

many small marks like velvet formed beautiful bracelets round her



feet; her sinuous tail was also white, ending with black rings; the

overpart of her dress, yellow like burnished gold, very lissome and



soft, had the characteristic blotches in the form of rosettes, which

distinguish the panther from every other feline species.






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