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The Lily of the Valley-Part8_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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about in this heat!"

"I was sent here to live in the open air."



"Then what do you say to coming with me to see them cut my rye?"

"Gladly," I replied. "I'll own to you that my ignorance is past



belief; I don't know rye from wheat, nor a poplar from an aspen; I

know nothing of farming, nor of the various methods of cultivating the



soil."

"Well, come and learn," he cried gaily, returning upon his steps.



"Come in by the little gate above."

The count walked back along the hedge, he being within it and I



without.

"You will learn nothing from Monsieur de Chessel," he remarked; "he is



altogether too fine a gentleman to do more than receive the reports of

his bailiff."



The count then showed me his yards and the farm buildings, the

pleasure-grounds, orchards, vineyards, and kitchen garden, until we



finally came to the long alley of acacias and ailanthus beside the

river, at the end of which I saw Madame de Mortsauf sitting on a



bench, with her children. A woman is very lovely under the light and

quivering shade of such foliage. Surprised, perhaps, at my prompt



visit, she did not move, knowing very well that we should go to her.

The count made me admire the view of the valley, which at this point



is totally different from that seen from the heights above. Here I

might have thought myself in a corner of Switzerland. The meadows,



furrowed with little brooks which flow into the Indre, can be seen to

their full extent till lost in the misty distance. Towards Montbazon



the eye ranges over a vast green plain; in all other directions it is

stopped by hills, by masses of trees, and rocks. We quickened our



steps as we approached Madame de Mortsauf, who suddenly dropped the

book in which Madeleine was reading to her and took Jacques upon her



knees, in the paroxysms of a violent cough.

"What's the matter?" cried the count, turning livid.



"A sore throat," answered the mother, who seemed not to see me; "but

it is nothing serious."



She was holding the child by the head and body, and her eyes seemed to

shed two rays of life into the poor frail creature.



"You are so extraordinarily imprudent," said the count, sharply; "you

expose him to the river damps and let him sit on a stone bench."



"Why, papa, the stone is burning hot," cried Madeleine.

"They were suffocating higher up," said the countess.



"Women always want to prove they are right," said the count, turning

to me.



To avoid agreeing or disagreeing with him by word or look I watched

Jacques, who complained of his throat. His mother carried him away,



but as she did so she heard her husband say:--

"When they have brought such sickly children into the world they ought



to learn how to take care of them."

Words that were cruellyunjust; but his self-love drove him to defend



himself at the expense of his wife. The countesshurried up the steps

and across the portico, and I saw her disappear through the glass



door. Monsieur de Mortsauf seated himself on the bench, his head bowed

in gloomy silence. My position became annoying; he neither spoke nor



looked at me. Farewell to the walk he had proposed, in the course of

which I had hoped to fathom him. I hardly remember a more unpleasant



moment. Ought I to go away, or should I not go? How many painful

thoughts must have arisen in his mind, to make him forget to follow



Jacques and learn how he was! At last however he rose abruptly and

came towards me. We both turned and looked at the smiling valley.



"We will put off our walk to another day, Monsieur le comte," I said

gently.



"No, let us go," he replied. "Unfortunately, I am accustomed to such




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