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The Magic Skin-Part40_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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greater by its means. Raphael had had everything in his power, and he

had done nothing.



At the springs of Mont Dore he came again in contact with a little

world of people, who invariably shunned him with the eager haste that



animals display when they scent afar off one of their own species

lying dead, and flee away. The dislike was mutual. His late adventure



had given him a deep distaste for society; his first care,

consequently, was to find a lodging at some distance from the



neighborhood of the springs. Instinctively he felt within him the need

of close contact with nature, of natural emotions, and of the



vegetative life into which we sink so gladly among the fields.

The day after he arrived he climbed the Pic de Sancy, not without



difficulty, and visited the higher valleys, the skyey nooks,

undiscovered lakes, and peasants' huts about Mont Dore, a country



whose stern and wild features are now beginning to tempt the brushes

of our artists, for sometimes wonderfully fresh and charming views are



to be found there, affording a strong contrast to the frowning brows

of those lonely hills.



Barely a league from the village Raphael discovered a nook where

nature seemed to have taken a pleasure in hiding away all her



treasures like some glad and mischievous child. At the first sight of

this unspoiled and picturesqueretreat, he determined to take up his



abode in it. There, life must needs be peaceful, natural, and

fruitful, like the life of a plant.



Imagine for yourself an inverted cone of granite hollowed out on a

large scale, a sort of basin with its sides divided up by queer



winding paths. On one side lay level stretches with no growth upon

them, a bluish uniform surface, over which the rays of the sun fell as



upon a mirror; on the other lay cliffs split open by fissures and

frowning ravines; great blocks of lava hung suspended from them, while



the action of rain slowly prepared their impending fall; a few stunted

trees tormented by the wind, often crowned their summits; and here and



there in some sheltered angle of their ramparts a clump of chestnut-

trees grew tall as cedars, or some cavern in the yellowish rocks



showed the dark entrance into its depths, set about by flowers and

brambles, decked by a little strip of green turf.



At the bottom of this cup, which perhaps had been the crater of an

old-world volcano, lay a pool of water as pure and bright as a



diamond. Granite boulders lay around the deep basin, and willows,

mountain-ash trees, yellow-flag lilies, and numberlessaromatic plants



bloomed about it, in a realm of meadow as fresh as an English bowling-

green. The fine soft grass was watered by the streams that trickled



through the fissures in the cliffs; the soil was continually enriched

by the deposits of loam which storms washed down from the heights



above. The pool might be some three acres in extent; its shape was

irregular, and the edges were scalloped like the hem of a dress; the



meadow might be an acre or two acres in extent. The cliffs and the

water approached and receded from each other; here and there, there



was scarcely width enough for the cows to pass between them.

After a certain height the plant life ceased. Aloft in air the granite



took upon itself the most fantastic shapes, and assumed those misty

tints that give to high mountains a dim resemblance to clouds in the



sky. The bare, bleak cliffs, with the fearful rents in their sides,

pictures of wild and barrendesolation, contrasted strongly with the



pretty view of the valley; and so strange were the shapes they

assumed, that one of the cliffs had been called "The Capuchin,"



because it was so like a monk. Sometimes these sharp-pointed peaks,

these mighty masses of rock, and airy caverns were lighted up one by



one, according to the direction of the sun or the caprices of the

atmosphere; they caught gleams of gold, dyed themselves in purple;



took a tint of glowing rose-color, or turned dull and gray. Upon the

heights a drama of color was always to be seen, a play of ever-



shifting iridescent hues like those on a pigeon's breast.




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