酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

The Recruit-Part2_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页


"Oh! madame, that's a well-known sign. I would wager my salvation, he

still lives. God would not so deceive us."



"Ah! if he would only come--no matter for his danger here."

"Poor Monsieur Auguste!" cried Brigitte, "he must be toiling along the



roads on foot."

"There's eight o'clock striking now," cried the countess, in terror.



She dared not stay away any longer from her guests; but before

re-entering the salon, she paused a moment under the peristyle of the



staircase, listening if any sound were breaking the silence of the

street. She smiled at Brigitte's husband, who was standingsentinel at



the door, and whose eyes seemed stupefied by the intensity of his

attention to the murmurs of the street and night.



Madame de Dey re-entered her salon, affecting gaiety, and began to

play loto with the young people; but after a while she complained of



feeling ill, and returned to her chimney-corner.

Such was the situation of affairs, and of people's minds in the house



of Madame de Dey, while along the road, between Paris and Cherbourg, a

young man in a brown jacket, called a "carmagnole," worn de rigueur at



that period, was making his way to Carentan. When drafts for the army

were first instituted, there was little or no discipline. The



requirements of the moment did not allow the Republic to equip its

soldiers immediately, and it was not an unusual thing to see the roads



covered with recruits, who were still wearing citizen's dress. These

young men either preceded or lagged behind their respective



battalions, according to their power of enduring the fatigues of a

long march.



The young man of whom we are now speaking, was much in advance of a

column of recruits, known to be on its way from Cherbourg, which the



mayor of Carentan was awaiting hourly, in order to give them their

billets for the night. The young man walked with a jades step, but



firmly, and his gait seemed to show that he had long been familiar

with military hardships. Though the moon was shining on the meadows



about Carentan, he had noticed heavy clouds on the horizon, and the

fear of being overtaken by a tempest may have hurried his steps, which



were certainly more brisk than his evident lassitude could have

desired. On his back was an almost empty bag, and he held in his hand



a boxwood stick, cut from the tall broad hedges of that shrub, which

is so frequent in Lower Normandy.



This solitary wayfarer entered Carentan, the steeples of which,

touched by the moonlight, had only just appeared to him. His step woke



the echoes of the silent streets, but he met no one until he came to

the shop of a weaver, who was still at work. From him he inquired his



way to the mayor's house, and the way-worn recruit soon found himself

seated in the porch of that establishment, waiting for the billet he



had asked for. Instead of receiving it at once, he was summoned to the

mayor's presence, where he found himself the object of minute



observation. The young man was good-looking, and belonged, evidently,

to a distinguished family. His air and manner were those of the



nobility. The intelligence of a good education was in his face.

"What is your name?" asked the mayor, giving him a shrewd and meaning



look.

"Julien Jussieu."



"Where do you come from?" continued the magistrate, with a smile of

incredulity.



"Paris."

"Your comrades are at some distance," resumed the Norman official, in



a sarcastic tone.

"I am nine miles in advance of the battalion."



"Some strong feeling must be bringing you to Carentan, citizen

recruit," said the mayor, slyly. "Very good, very good," he added



hastily, silencing with a wave of his hand a reply the young man was

about to make. "I know where to send you. Here," he added, giving him



his billet, "take this and go to that house, 'Citizen Jussieu.'"

So saying, the mayor held out to the recruit a billet, on which the



address of Madame de Dey's house was written. The young man read it

with an air of curiosity.



"He knows he hasn't far to go," thought the mayor as the recruit left

the house. "That's a bold fellow! God guide him! He seemed to have his



answers ready. But he'd have been lost if any one but I had questioned




文章总共2页
文章标签:翻译  译文  翻译文  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号