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The Magic Skin-Part21_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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weather, and my wish to go to the gaming-table. She did not read my



poverty in my embarrassed attitude, or in my forced jests. My eyes

would redden, but she did not understand a look. A young man's life is



at the mercy of the strangest whims! At every revolution of the wheels

during the journey, thoughts that burned stirred in my heart. I tried



to pull up a plank from the bottom of the vehicle, hoping to slip

through the hole into the street; but finding insuperable obstacles, I



burst into a fit of laughter, and then sat stupefied in calm

dejection, like a man in a pillory. When I reached my lodging, Pauline



broke in through my first stammering words with:

" 'If you haven't any money----?'



"Ah, the music of Rossini was as nothing compared with those words.

But to return to the performance at the Funambules.



"I thought of pawning the circlet of gold round my mother's portrait

in order to escort the countess. Although the pawnbroker loomed in my



thoughts as one of the doors of a convict's prison, I would rather

myself have carried my bed thither than have begged for alms. There is



something so painful in the expression of a man who asks money of you!

There are loans that mulct us of our self-respect, just as some



rebuffs from a friend's lips sweep away our last illusion.

"Pauline was working; her mother had gone to bed. I flung a stealthy



glance over the bed; the curtains were drawn back a little; Madame

Gaudin was in a deep sleep, I thought, when I saw her quiet, sallow



profile outlined against the pillow.

" 'You are in trouble?' Pauline said, dipping her brush into the



coloring.

" 'It is in your power to do me a great service, my dear child,' I



answered.

"The gladness in her eyes frightened me.



" 'Is it possible that she loves me?' I thought. 'Pauline,' I began. I

went and sat near to her, so as to study her. My tones had been so



searching that she read my thought; her eyes fell, and I scrutinized

her face. It was so pure and frank that I fancied I could see as



clearly into her heart as into my own.

" 'Do you love me?' I asked.



" 'A little,--passionately--not a bit!' she cried.

"Then she did not love me. Her jesting tones, and a little gleeful



movement that escaped her, expressed nothing beyond a girlish, blithe

goodwill. I told her about my distress and the predicament in which I



found myself, and asked her to help me.

" 'You do not wish to go to the pawnbroker's yourself, M. Raphael,'



she answered, 'and yet you would send me!'

"I blushed in confusion at the child's reasoning. She took my hand in



hers as if she wanted to compensate for this home-truth by her light

touch upon it.



" 'Oh, I would willingly go,' she said, 'but it is not necessary. I

found two five-franc pieces at the back of the piano, that had slipped



without your knowledge between the frame and the keyboard, and I laid

them on your table.'



" 'You will soon be coming into some money, M. Raphael,' said the kind

mother, showing her face between the curtains, 'and I can easily lend



you a few crowns meanwhile.'

" 'Oh, Pauline!' I cried, as I pressed her hand, 'how I wish that I



were rich!'

" 'Bah! why should you?' she said petulantly. Her hand shook in mine



with the throbbing of her pulse; she snatched it away, and looked at

both of mine.



" 'You will marry a rich wife,' she said, 'but she will give you a

great deal of trouble. Ah, Dieu! she will be your death,--I am sure of



it.'

"In her exclamation there was something like belief in her mother's






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