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The Hated Son-Part5_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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"If Madame la comtesse," he said, "feels anything strange upon her

tongue, a prickly, bitter, strong salt taste, reject the food. Let the



child's clothes be washed under her own eye and let her keep the key

of the chest which contains them. Should anything happen to the child



send instantly to me."

These instructions sank deep into Jeanne's heart. She begged



Beauvouloir to regard her always as one who would do him any service

in her power. On that the poor man told her that she held his



happiness in her hands.

Then he relatedbriefly how the Comte d'Herouville had in his youth



loved a courtesan, known by the name of La Belle Romaine, who had

formerly belonged to the Cardinal of Lorraine. Abandoned by the count



before very long, she had died miserably, leaving a child named

Gertrude, who had been rescued by the Sisters of the Convent of Poor



Clares, the Mother Superior of which was Mademoiselle de Saint-Savin,

the countess's aunt. Having been called to treat Gertrude for an



illness, he, Beauvouloir, had fallen in love with her, and if Madame

la comtesse, he said, would undertake the affair, she should not only



more than repay him for what she thought he had done for her, but she

would make him grateful to her for life. The count might, sooner or



later, be brought to take an interest in so beautiful a daughter, and

might protect her indirectly by making him his physician.



The countess, compassionate to all true love, promised to do her best,

and pursued the affair so warmly that at the birth of her second son



she did obtain from her husband a "dot" for the young girl, who was

married soon after to Beauvouloir. The "dot" and his savings enabled



the bonesetter to buy a charmingestate called Forcalier near the

castle of Herouville, and to give his life the dignity of a student



and man of learning.

Comforted by the kind physician, the countess felt that to her were



given joys unknown to other mothers. Mother and child, two feeble

beings, seemed united in one thought, they understood each other long



before language could interpret between them. From the moment when

Etienne first turned his eyes on things about him with the stupid



eagerness of a little child, his glance had rested on the sombre

hangings of the castle walls. When his young ear strove to listen and



to distinguish sounds, he heard the monotonous ebb and flow of the sea

upon the rocks, as regular as the swinging of a pendulum. Thus places,



sounds, and things, all that strikes the senses and forms the

character, inclined him to melancholy. His mother, too, was doomed to



live and die in the clouds of melancholy; and to him, from his birth

up, she was the only being that existed on the earth, and filled for



him the desert. Like all frail children, Etienne's attitude was

passive, and in that he resembled his mother. The delicacy of his



organs was such that a sudden noise, or the presence of a boisterous

person gave him a sort of fever. He was like those little insects for



whom God seems to temper the violence of the wind and the heat of the

sun; incapable, like them, of struggling against the slightest



obstacle, he yielded, as they do, without resistance or complaint, to

everything that seemed to him aggressive. This angelic patience



inspired in the mother a sentiment which took away all fatigue from

the incessant care required by so frail a being.



Soon his precocious perception of suffering revealed to him the power

that he had upon his mother; often he tried to divert her with



caresses and make her smile at his play; and never did his coaxing

hands, his stammered words, his intelligent laugh fail to rouse her



from her reverie. If he was tired, his care for her kept him from

complaining.



"Poor, dear, little sensitive!" cried the countess as he fell asleep

tired with some play which had driven the sad memories from her mind,



"how can you live in this world? who will understand you? who will

love you? who will see the treasures hidden in that frail body? No






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