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The Vicar of Tours-Part4_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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vicar of the cathedral and nothing higher.

Yet the Abbe Troubert, now fifty years of age, had entirely removed,



partly by the circumspection of his conduct and the apparent lack of

all ambitions, and partly by his saintly life, the fears which his



suspected ability and his powerful presence had roused in the minds of

his superiors. His health having seriously failed him during the last



year, it seemed probable that he would soon be raised to the office of

vicar-general of the archbishopric. His competitors themselves desired



the appointment, so that their own plans might have time to mature

during the few remaining days which a malady, now become chronic,



might allow him. Far from offering the same hopes to rivals,

Birotteau's triple chin showed to all who wanted his coveted canonry



an evidence of the soundest health; even his gout seemed to them, in

accordance with the proverb, an assurance of longevity.



The Abbe Chapeloud, a man of great good sense, whose amiability had

made the leaders of the diocese and the members of the best society in



Tours seek his company, had steadily opposed, though secretly and with

much judgment, the elevation of the Abbe Troubert. He had even



adroitly managed to prevent his access to the salons of the best

society. Nevertheless, during Chapeloud's lifetime Troubert treated



him invariably with great respect, and showed him on all occasions the

utmost deference. This constantsubmission did not, however, change



the opinion of the late canon, who said to Birotteau during the last

walk they took together: "Distrust that lean stick of a Troubert,--



Sixtus the Fifth reduced to the limits of a bishopric!"

Such was the friend, the abiding guest of Mademoiselle Gamard, who now



came, the morning after the old maid had, as it were, declared war

against the poor vicar, to pay his brother a visit and show him marks



of friendship.

"You must excuse Marianne," said the canon, as the woman entered. "I



suppose she went first to my rooms. They are very damp, and I coughed

all night. You are most healthily situated here," he added, looking up



at the cornice.

"Yes; I am lodged like a canon," replied Birotteau.



"And I like a vicar," said the other, humbly.

"But you will soon be settled in the archbishop's palace," said the



kindly vicar, who wanted everybody to be happy.

"Yes, or in the cemetery, but God's will be done!" and Troubert raised



his eyes to heaven resignedly. "I came," he said, "to ask you to lend

me the 'Register of Bishops.' You are the only man in Tours I know who



has a copy."

"Take it out of my library," replied Birotteau, reminded by the



canon's words of the greatest happiness of his life.

The canon passed into the library and stayed there while the vicar



dressed. Presently the breakfast bell rang, and the gouty vicar

reflected that if it had not been for Troubert's visit he would have



had no fire to dress by. "He's a kind man," thought he.

The two priests went downstairs together, each armed with a huge folio



which they laid on one of the side tables in the dining-room.

"What's all that?" asked Mademoiselle Gamard, in a sharp voice,



addressing Birotteau. "I hope you are not going to litter up my

dining-room with your old books!"



"They are books I wanted," replied the Abbe Troubert. "Monsieur

Birotteau has been kind enough to lend them to me."



"I might have guessed it," she said, with a contemptuous smile.

"Monsieur Birotteau doesn't often read books of that size."



"How are you, mademoiselle?" said the vicar, in a mellifluous voice.

"Not very well," she replied, shortly. "You woke me up last night out



of my first sleep, and I was wakeful for the rest of the night." Then,

sitting down, she added, "Gentlemen, the milk is getting cold."



Stupefied at being so ill-naturedly received by his landlady, from

whom he half expected an apology, and yet alarmed, like all timid



people at the prospect of a discussion, especially if it relates to

themselves, the poor vicar took his seat in silence. Then, observing



in Mademoiselle Gamard's face the visible signs of ill-humour, he was

goaded into a struggle between his reason, which told him that he



ought not to submit to such discourtesy from a landlady, and his




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