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The Magic Skin-Part22_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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notorious, and who even made it contribute to his success, took up the



glove thrown down so scornfully by Rastignac. He began an unmeasured

eulogy of me, my performances, and my character. Rastignac had



overlooked this method of detraction. His sarcastic encomiums misled

the countess, who sacrificed without mercy; she betrayed my secrets,



and derided my pretensions and my hopes, to divert her friends.

" 'There is a future before him,' said Rastignac. 'Some day he may be



in a position to take a cruel revenge; his talents are at least equal

to his courage; and I should consider those who attack him very rash,



for he has a good memory----'

" 'And writes Memoirs,' put in the countess, who seemed to object to



the deep silence that prevailed.

" 'Memoirs of a sham countess, madame,' replied Rastignac. 'Another



sort of courage is needed to write that sort of thing.'

" 'I give him credit for plenty of courage,' she answered; 'he is



faithful to me.'

"I was greatly tempted to show myself suddenly among the railers, like



the shade of Banquo in Macbeth. I should have lost a mistress, but I

had a friend! But love inspired me all at once, with one of those



treacherous and fallacious subtleties that it can use to soothe all

our pangs.



"If Foedora loved me, I thought, she would be sure to disguise her

feelings by some mocking jest. How often the heart protests against a



lie on the lips!

"Well, very soon my audacious rival, left alone with the countess,



rose to go.

" 'What! already?' asked she in a coaxing voice that set my heart



beating. 'Will you not give me a few more minutes? Have you nothing

more to say to me? will you never sacrifice any of your pleasures for



me?'

"He went away.



" 'Ah!' she yawned; 'how very tiresome they all are!'

"She pulled a cord energetically till the sound of a bell rang through



the place; then, humming a few notes of Pria che spunti, the countess

entered her room. No one had ever heard her sing; her muteness had



called forth the wildest explanations. She had promised her first

lover, so it was said, who had been held captive by her talent, and



whose jealousy over her stretched beyond his grave, that she would

never allow others to experience a happiness that he wished to be his



and his alone.

"I exerted every power of my soul to catch the sounds. Higher and



higher rose the notes; Foedora's life seemed to dilate within her; her

throat poured forth all its richest tones; something well-nigh divine



entered into the melody. There was a bright purity and clearness of

tone in the countess' voice, a thrilling harmony which reached the



heart and stirred its pulses. Musicians are seldom unemotional; a

woman who could sing like that must know how to love indeed. Her



beautiful voice made one more puzzle in a woman mysterious enough

before. I beheld her then, as plainly as I see you at this moment. She



seemed to listen to herself, to experience a secret rapture of her

own; she felt, as it were, an ecstasy like that of love.



"She stood before the hearth during the execution of the principal

theme of the rondo; and when she ceased her face changed. She looked



tired; her features seemed to alter. She had laid the mask aside; her

part as an actress was over. Yet the faded look that came over her



beautiful face, a result either of this performance or of the

evening's fatigues, had its charms, too.



" 'This is her real self,' I thought.

"She set her foot on a bronze bar of the fender as if to warm it, took



off her gloves, and drew over her head the gold chain from which her




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