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A Start in Life-Part6_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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this maternal homily. So, in order to rid himself of his mother, Oscar



had recourse to an heroicmeasure, which proved how vanity stimulates

the intellect.



"Mamma," he said, "you are standing in a draught, and you may take

cold. Besides, I am going to get into the coach."



The lad must have touched some tender spot, for his mother caught him

to her bosom, kissed him as if he were starting upon a long journey,



and went with him to the vehicle with tears in her eyes.

"Don't forget to give five francs to the servants when you come away,"



she said; "write me three times at least during the fifteen days;

behave properly, and remember all that I have told you. You have linen



enough; don't send any to the wash. And above all, remember Monsieur

Moreau's kindness; mind him as you would a father, and follow his



advice."

As he got into the coach, Oscar's blue woollen stockings became



visible, through the action of his trousers which drew up suddenly,

also the new patch in the said trousers was seen, through the parting



of his coat-tails. The smiles of the two young men, on whom these

signs of an honorable indigence were not lost, were so many fresh



wounds to the lad's vanity.

"The first place was engaged for Oscar," said the mother to Pierrotin.



"Take the back seat," she said to the boy, looking fondly at him with

a loving smile.



Oh! how Oscar regretted that trouble and sorrow had destroyed his

mother's beauty, and that poverty and self-sacrifice prevented her



from being better dressed! One of the young men, the one who wore top-

boots and spurs, nudged the other to make him take notice of Oscar's



mother, and the other twirled his moustache with a gesture which

signified,--



"Rather pretty figure!"

"How shall I ever get rid of mamma?" thought Oscar.



"What's the matter?" asked Madame Clapart.

Oscar pretended not to hear, the monster! Perhaps Madame Clapart was



lacking in tact under the circumstances; but all absorbing sentiments

have so much egotism!



"Georges, do you like children when travelling?" asked one young man

of the other.



"Yes, my good Amaury, if they are weaned, and are named Oscar, and

have chocolate."



These speeches were uttered in half-tones to allow Oscar to hear them

or not hear them as he chose; his countenance was to be the weather-



gauge by which the other young traveller could judge how much fun he

might be able to get out of the lad during the journey. Oscar chose



not to hear. He looked to see if his mother, who weighed upon him like

a nightmare, was still there, for he felt that she loved him too well



to leave him so quickly. Not only did he involuntarily compare the

dress of his travelling companion with his own, but he felt that his



mother's toilet counted for much in the smiles of the two young men.

"If they would only take themselves off!" he said to himself.



Instead of that, Amaury remarked to Georges, giving a tap with his

cane to the heavy wheel of the coucou:



"And so, my friend, you are really going to trust your future to this

fragile bark?"



"I must," replied Georges, in a tone of fatalism.

Oscar gave a sigh as he remarked the jaunty manner in which his



companion's hat was stuck on one ear for the purpose of showing a

magnificent head of blond hair beautifully brushed and curled; while



he, by order of his step-father, had his black hair cut like a

clothes-brush across the forehead, and clipped, like a soldier's,



close to the head. The face of the vain lad was round and chubby and

bright with the hues of health, while that of his fellow-traveller was



long, and delicate, and pale. The forehead of the latter was broad,

and his chest filled out a waistcoat of cashmere pattern. As Oscar



admired the tight-fitting iron-gray trousers and the overcoat with its

frogs and olives clasping the waist, it seemed to him that this



romantic-looking stranger, gifted with such advantages, insulted him

by his superiority, just as an ugly woman feels injured by the mere



sight of a pretty one. The click of the stranger's boot-heels offended

his taste and echoed in his heart. He felt as hampered by his own



clothes (made no doubt at home out of those of his step-father) as

that envied young man seemed at ease in his.



"That fellow must have heaps of francs in his trousers pocket,"

thought Oscar.



The young man turned round. What were Oscar's feelings on beholding a




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