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A Start in Life-Part7_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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himself in search of Bichette.

Georges, after shaking hands with his friend, got into the coach,



handling with an air of great importance a portfolio which he placed

beneath the cushion of the seat. He took the opposite corner to that



of Oscar, on the same seat.

"This Pere Leger troubles me," he said.



"They can't take away our places," replied Oscar. "I have number one."

"And I number two," said Georges.



Just as Pierrotin reappeared, having harnessed Bichette, the porter

returned with a stout man in tow, whose weight could not have been



less than two hundred and fifty pounds at the very least. Pere Leger

belonged to the species of farmer which has a square back, a



protuberant stomach, a powdered pigtail, and wears a little coat of

blue linen. His white gaiters, coming above the knee, were fastened



round the ends of his velveteen breeches and secured by silver

buckles. His hob-nailed shoes weighed two pounds each. In his hand, he



held a small reddish stick, much polished, with a large knob, which

was fastened round his wrist by a thong of leather.



"And you are called Pere Leger?" asked Georges, very seriously, as the

farmer attempted to put a foot on the step.



"At your service," replied the farmer, looking in and showing a face

like that of Louis XVIII., with fat, rubicund cheeks, from between



which issued a nose that in any other face would have seemed enormous.

His smiling eyes were sunken in rolls of fat. "Come, a helping hand,



my lad!" he said to Pierrotin.

The farmer was hoisted in by the united efforts of Pierrotin and the



porter, to cries of "Houp la! hi! ha! hoist!" uttered by Georges.

"Oh! I'm not going far; only to La Cave," said the farmer, good-



humoredly.

In France everybody takes a joke.



"Take the back seat," said Pierrotin, "there'll be six of you."

"Where's your other horse?" demanded Georges. "Is it as mythical as



the third post-horse."

"There she is," said Pierrotin, pointing to the little mare, who was



coming along alone.

"He calls that insect a horse!" exclaimed Georges.



"Oh! she's good, that little mare," said the farmer, who by this time

was seated. "Your servant, gentlemen. Well, Pierrotin, how soon do you



start?"

"I have two travellers in there after a cup of coffee," replied



Pierrotin.

The hollow-cheeked young man and his page reappeared.



"Come, let's start!" was the general cry.

"We are going to start," replied Pierrotin. "Now, then, make ready,"



he said to the porter, who began thereupon to take away the stones

which stopped the wheels.



Pierrotin took Rougeot by the bridle and gave that guttural cry, "Ket,

ket!" to tell the two animals to collect their energy; on which,



though evidently stiff, they pulled the coach to the door of the Lion

d'Argent. After which manoeuvre, which was purely preparatory,



Pierrotin gazed up the rue d'Enghien and then disappeared, leaving the

coach in charge of the porter.



"Ah ca! is he subject to such attacks,--that master of yours?" said

Mistigris, addressing the porter.



"He has gone to fetch his feed from the stable," replied the porter,

well versed in all the usual tricks to keep passengers quiet.



"Well, after all," said Mistigris, "'art is long, but life is short'

--to Bichette."



At this particular epoch, a fancy for mutilating or transposing

proverbs reigned in the studios. It was thought a triumph to find



changes of letters, and sometimes of words, which still kept the

semblance of the proverb while giving it a fantastic or ridiculous



meaning.[*]

[*] It is plainly impossible to translate many of these proverbs and



put any fun or meaning into them.--Tr.

"Patience, Mistigris!" said his master; "'come wheel, come whoa.'"



Pierrotin here returned, bringing with him the Comte de Serizy, who

had come through the rue de l'Echiquier, and with whom he had






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