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An Old Maid-Part16_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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Jacquelin announced dinner. Monsieur de Troisville offered his arm to

the happy woman, who endeavored not to lean too heavily upon it; she



feared, as usual, to seem to make advances.

"Everything is so harmonious here," said the viscount, as he seated



himself at table.

"Yes, our trees are full of birds, which give us concerts for nothing;



no one ever frightens them; and the nightingales sing at night," said

Mademoiselle Cormon.



"I was speaking of the interior of the house," remarked the viscount,

who did not trouble himself to observe Mademoiselle Cormon, and



therefore did not perceive the dulness of her mind. "Everything is so

in keeping,--the tones of color, the furniture, the general



character."

"But it costs a great deal; taxes are enormous," responded the



excellent woman.

"Ah! taxes are high, are they?" said the viscount, preoccupied with



his own ideas.

"I don't know," replied the abbe. "My niece manages the property of



each of us."

"Taxes are not of much importance to the rich," said Mademoiselle



Cormon, not wishing to be thought miserly. "As for the furniture, I

shall leave it as it is, and change nothing,--unless I marry; and



then, of course, everything here must suit the husband."

"You have noble principles, mademoiselle," said the viscount, smiling.



"You will make one happy man."

"No one ever made to me such a pretty speech," thought the old maid.



The viscount complimented Mademoiselle Cormon on the excellence of her

service and the admirable arrangements of the house, remarking that he



had supposed the provinces behind the age in that respect; but, on the

contrary, he found them, as the English say, "very comfortable."



"What can that word mean?" she thought. "Oh, where is the chevalier to

explain it to me? 'Comfortable,'--there seem to be several words in



it. Well, courage!" she said to herself. "I can't be expected to

answer a foreign language-- But," she continued aloud, feeling her



tongue untied by the eloquence which nearly all human creatures find

in momentous circumstances, "we have a very brilliant society here,



monsieur. It assembles at my house, and you shall judge of it this

evening, for some of my faithful friends have no doubt heard of my



return and your arrival. Among them is the Chevalier de Valois, a

seigneur of the old court, a man of infinite wit and taste; then there



is Monsieur le Marquis d'Esgrignon and Mademoiselle Armande, his

sister" (she bit her tongue with vexation),--"a woman remarkable in



her way," she added. "She resolved to remain unmarried in order to

leave all her fortune to her brother and nephew."



"Ah!" exclaimed the viscount. "Yes, the d'Esgrignons,--I remember

them."



"Alencon is very gay," continued the old maid, now fairly launched.

"There's much amusement: the receiver-general gives balls; the prefect



is an amiable man; and Monseigneur the bishop sometimes honors us with

a visit--"



"Well, then," said the viscount, smiling, "I have done wisely to come

back, like the hare, to die in my form."



"Yes," she said. "I, too, attach myself or I die."

The viscount smiled.



"Ah!" thought the old maid, "all is well; he understands me."

The conversation continued on generalities. By one of those mysterious



unknown and undefinable faculties, Mademoiselle Cormon found in her

brain, under the pressure of her desire to be agreeable, all the



phrases and opinions of the Chevalier de Valois. It was like a duel in

which the devil himself pointed the pistol. Never was any adversary



better aimed at. The viscount was far too well-bred to speak of the

excellence of the dinner; but his silence was praise. As he drank the



delicious wines which Jacquelin served to him profusely, he seemed to

feel he was with friends, and to meet them with pleasure; for the true



connoisseur does not applaud, he enjoys. He inquired the price of

land, of houses, of estates; he made Mademoiselle Cormon describe at



length the confluence of the Sarthe and the Brillante; he expressed

surprise that the town was placed so far from the river, and seemed to



be much interested in the topography of the place.

The silent abbe left his niece to throw the dice of conversation; and



she truly felt that she pleased Monsieur de Troisville, who smiled at

her gracefully, and committed himself during this dinner far more than



her most eager suitors had ever done in ten days. Imagine, therefore,




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