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Two Poets-Part5_Honore de Balzac(1799-1850)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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"This, sir, is a monograph which I am desirous of printing," said he,



drawing a huge package of manuscript from his pocket. "Will you oblige

me with an estimate?"



"We do not undertake work on such a scale, sir," David answered,

without looking at the manuscript. "You had better see the Messieurs



Cointet about it."

"Still we have a very pretty type which might suit it," put in Lucien,



taking up the roll. "We must ask you to be kind enough, sir, to leave

your commission with us and call again to-morrow, and we will give you



an estimate."

"Have I the pleasure of addressing M. Lucien Chardon?"



"Yes, sir," said the foreman.

"I am fortunate in this opportunity of meeting with a young poet



destined to such greatness," returned the author. "Mme. de Bargeton

sent me here."



Lucien flushed red at the name, and stammered out something about

gratitude for the interest which Mme. de Bargeton took in him. David



noticed his friend's embarrassed flush, and left him in conversation

with the country gentleman, the author of a monograph on silkwork



cultivation, prompted by vanity to print the effort for the benefit of

fellow-members of the local agricultural society.



When the author had gone, David spoke.

"Lucien, are you in love with Mme. de Bargeton?"



"Passionately."

"But social prejudices set you as far apart as if she were living at



Pekin and you in Greenland."

"The will of two lovers can rise victorious over all things," said



Lucien, lowering his eyes.

"You will forget us," returned the alarmed lover, as Eve's fair face



rose before his mind.

"On the contrary, I have perhaps sacrificed my love to you," cried



Lucien.

"What do you mean?"



"In spite of my love, in spite of the different motives which bid me

obtain a secure footing in her house, I have told her that I will



never go thither again unless another is made welcome too, a man whose

gifts are greater than mine, a man destined for a brilliant future--



David Sechard, my brother, my friend. I shall find an answer waiting

when I go home. All the aristocrats may have been asked to hear me



read my verses this evening, but I shall not go if the answer is

negative, and I will never set foot in Mme. de Bargeton's house



again."

David brushed the tears from his eyes, and wrung Lucien's hand. The



clock struck six.

"Eve must be anxious; good-bye," Lucien added abruptly.



He hurried away. David stood overcome by the emotion that is only felt

to the full at his age, and more especially in such a position as his



--the friends were like two young swans with wings unclipped as yet by

the experiences of provincial life.



"Heart of gold!" David exclaimed to himself, as his eyes followed

Lucien across the workshop.



Lucien went down to L'Houmeau along the broad Promenade de Beaulieu,

the Rue du Minage, and Saint-Peter's Gate. It was the longest way



round, so you may be sure that Mme. de Bargeton's house lay on the

way. So delicious it was to pass under her windows, though she knew



nothing of his presence, that for the past two months he had gone

round daily by the Palet Gate into L'Houmeau.



Under the trees of Beaulieu he saw how far the suburb lay from the

city. The custom of the country, moreover, had raised other barriers



harder to surmount than the mere physical difficulty of the steep

flights of steps which Lucien was descending. Youth and ambition had



thrown the flying-bridge of glory across the gulf between the city and

the suburb, yet Lucien was as uneasy in his mind over his lady's






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