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The Duchesse de Langeais-Part1_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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moment. There are no small events for the heart; the heart

exaggerates everything; the heart weighs the fall of a



fourteen-year-old Empire and the dropping of a woman's glove in

the same scales, and the glove is nearly always the heavier of



the two. So here are the facts in all their prosaic simplicity.

The facts first, the emotions will follow.



An hour after the General landed on the island, the royal

authority was re-established there. Some few Constitutional



Spaniards who had found their way thither after the fall of Cadiz

were allowed to charter a vessel and sail for London. So there



was neither resistance nor reaction. But the change of

government could not be effected in the little town without a



mass, at which the two divisions under the General's command were

obliged to be present. Now, it was upon this mass that the



General had built his hopes of gaining some information as to the

sisters in the convent; he was quite unaware how absolutely the



Carmelites were cut off from the world; but he knew that there

might be among them one whom he held dearer than life, dearer



than honour.

His hopes were cruelly dashed at once. Mass, it is true, was



celebrated in state. In honour of such a solemnity, the curtains

which always hid the choir were drawn back to display its riches,



its valuable paintings and shrines so bright with gems that they

eclipsed the glories of the ex-votos of gold and silver hung up



by sailors of the port on the columns in the nave. But all the

nuns had taken refuge in the organ-loft. And yet, in spite of



this first check, during this very mass of thanksgiving, the most

intimately thrilling drama that ever set a man's heart beating



opened out widely before him.

The sister who played the organ aroused such intense enthusiasm,



that not a single man regretted that he had come to the service.

Even the men in the ranks were delighted, and the officers were



in ecstasy. As for the General, he was seemingly calm and

indifferent. The sensations stirred in him as the sister played



one piece after another belong to the small number of things

which it is not lawful to utter; words are powerless to express



them; like death, God, eternity, they can only be realised

through their one point of contact with humanity. Strangely



enough, the organ music seemed to belong to the school of

Rossini, the musician who brings most human passion into his art.



Some day his works, by their number and extent, will receive the

reverence due to the Homer of music. From among all the scores



that we owe to his great genius, the nun seemed to have chosen

Moses in Egypt for special study, doubtless because the spirit of



sacred music finds therein its supreme expression. Perhaps the

soul of the great musician, so gloriously known to Europe, and



the soul of this unknown executant had met in the intuitive

apprehension of the same poetry. So at least thought two



dilettanti officers who must have missed the Theatre Favart in

Spain.



At last in the Te Deum no one could fail to discern a French soul

in the sudden change that came over the music. Joy for the



victory of the Most Christian King evidently stirred this nun's

heart to the depths. She was a Frenchwoman beyond mistake. Soon



the love of country shone out, breaking forth like shafts of

light from the fugue, as the sister introduced variations with



all a Parisienne's fastidious taste, and blended vague

suggestions of our grandest national airs with her music. A



Spaniard's fingers would not have brought this warmth into a

graceful tribute paid to the victorious arms of France. The



musician's nationality was revealed.

"We find France everywhere, it seems," said one of the men.



The General had left the church during the Te Deum; he could not

listen any longer. The nun's music had been a revelation of a






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