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An Old Maid-Part5_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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which her eye could rake the rue du Bercail and see all comers. She

was a good woman, dressed with bourgeois simplicity in keeping with



her wan face furrowed by grief. The rigorous humbleness of poverty

made itself felt in all the accessories of this household, the very



air of which was charged with the stern and upright morals of the

provinces. At this moment the son and mother were together in the



dining-room, where they were breakfasting with a cup of coffee, with

bread and butter and radishes. To make the pleasure which Suzanne's



visit was to give to Madame Granson intelligible, we must explain

certain secret interests of the mother and son.



Athanase Granson was a thin and pale young man, of mediumheight, with

a hollow face in which his two black eyes, sparkling with thoughts,



gave the effect of bits of coal. The rather irregular lines of his

face, the curve of his lips, a prominent chin, the fine modelling of



his forehead, his melancholycountenance, caused by a sense of his

poverty warring with the powers that he felt within him, were all



indications of repressed and imprisoned talent. In any other place

than the town of Alencon the mere aspect of his person would have won



him the assistance of superior men, or of women who are able to

recognize genius in obscurity. If his was not genius, it was at any



rate the form and aspect of it; if he had not the actual force of a

great heart, the glow of such a heart was in his glance. Although he



was capable of expressing the highest feeling, a casing of timidity

destroyed all the graces of his youth, just as the ice of poverty kept



him from daring to put forth all his powers. Provincial life, without

an opening, without appreciation, without encouragement, described a



circle about him in which languished and died the power of thought,--a

power which as yet had scarcely reached its dawn. Moreover, Athanase



possessed that savage pride which poverty intensifies in noble minds,

exalting them in their struggle with men and things; although at their



start in life it is an obstacle to their advancement. Genius proceeds

in two ways: either it takes its opportunity--like Napoleon, like



Moliere--the moment that it sees it, or it waits to be sought when it

has patiently revealed itself. Young Granson belonged to that class of



men of talent who distrust themselves and are easily discouraged. His

soul was contemplative. He lived more by thought than by action.



Perhaps he might have seemed deficient or incomplete to those who

cannot conceive of genius without the sparkle of French passion; but



he was powerful in the world of mind, and he was liable to reach,

through a series of emotions imperceptible to common souls, those



sudden determinations which make fools say of a man, "He is mad."

The contempt which the world pours out on poverty was death to



Athanase; the enervating heat of solitude, without a breath or current

of air, relaxed the bow which ever strove to tighten itself; his soul



grew weary in this painful effort without results. Athanase was a man

who might have taken his place among the glories of France; but, eagle



as he was, cooped in a cage without his proper nourishment, he was

about to die of hunger after contemplating with an ardent eye the



fields of air and the mountain heights where genius soars. His work in

the city library escaped attention, and he buried in his soul his



thoughts of fame, fearing that they might injure him; but deeper than

all lay buried within him the secret of his heart,--a passion which



hollowed his cheeks and yellowed his brow. He loved his distant

cousin, this very Mademoiselle Cormon whom the Chevalier de Valois and



du Bousquier, his hidden rivals, were stalking. This love had had its

origin in calculation. Mademoiselle Cormon was thought to be one of



the richest persons in the town: the poor lad had therefore been led

to love her by desires for material happiness, by the hope, long



indulged, of gilding with comfort his mother's last years, by eager

longing for the ease of life so needful to men who live by thought;



but this most innocent point of departure degraded his passion in his

own eyes. Moreover, he feared the ridicule the world would cast upon






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