章节正文
men bedizened with decorations, stars, and ribbons, men who bore
the most illustrious names in France, had gathered about the
Vicomtesse.
The music of the orchestra vibrated in wave after wave of sound
from the golden ceiling of the palace, now made desolate for its
queen.
Madame de Beauseant stood at the door of the first salon to
receive the guests who were styled her friends. She was dressed
in white, and wore no ornament in the plaits of hair braided
about her head; her face was calm; there was no sign there of
pride, nor of pain, nor of joy that she did not feel. No one
could read her soul; she stood there like some Niobe carved in
marble. For a few intimate friends there was a tinge of satire in
her smile; but no scrutiny saw any change in her, nor had she
looked otherwise in the days of the glory of her happiness. The
most callous of her guests admired her as young Rome applauded
some gladiator who could die smiling. It seemed as if society had
adorned itself for a last audience of one of its sovereigns.
"I was afraid that you would not come," she said to Rastignac.
"Madame," he said, in an unsteady voice, taking her speech as a
reproach, "I shall be the last to go, that is why I am here."
"Good," she said, and she took his hand. "You are perhaps the
only one I can trust here among all these. Oh, my friend, when
you love, love a woman whom you are sure that you can love
always. Never forsake a woman."
She took Rastignac's arm, and went towards a sofa in the card-
room.
"I want you to go to the Marquis," she said. "Jacques, my
footman, will go with you; he has a letter that you will take. I
am asking the Marquis to give my letters back to me. He will give
them all up, I like to think that. When you have my letters, go
up to my room with them. Some one shall bring me word."
She rose to go to meet the Duchesse de Langeais, her most
intimate friend, who had come like the rest of the world.
Rastignac went. He asked for the Marquis d'Ajuda at the Hotel
Rochefide, feeling certain that the latter would be spending his
evening there, and so it proved. The Marquis went to his own
house with Rastignac, and gave a casket to the student, saying as
he did so, "They are all there."
He seemed as if he was about to say something to Eugene, to ask
about the ball, or the Vicomtesse; perhaps he was on the brink of
the confession that, even then, he was in despair, and knew that
his marriage had been a fatal mistake; but a proud gleam shone in
his eyes, and with deplorable courage he kept his noblest
feelings a secret.
"Do not even mention my name to her, my dear Eugene." He grasped
Rastignac's hand sadly and affectionately, and turned away from
him. Eugene went back to the Hotel Beauseant, the servant took
him to the Vicomtesse's room. There were signs there of
preparations for a journey. He sat down by the fire, fixed his
eyes on the cedar wood casket, and fell into deep mournful
musings. Mme. de Beauseant loomed large in these imaginings, like
a goddess in the Iliad.
"Ah! my friend! . . ." said the Vicomtesse; she crossed the room
and laid her hand on Rastignac's shoulder. He saw the tears in
his cousin's uplifted eyes, saw that one hand was raised to take
the casket, and that the fingers of the other trembled. Suddenly
she took the casket, put it in the fire, and watched it burn.
"They are dancing," she said. "They all came very early; but
death will be long in coming. Hush! my friend," and she laid a
finger on Rastignac's lips, seeing that he was about to speak. "I
shall never see Paris again. I am taking my leave of the world.
At five o'clock this morning I shall set out on my journey; I
mean to bury myself in the remotest part of Normandy. I have had
very little time to make my arrangements; since three o'clock
this afternoon I have been busy signing documents, setting my
affairs in order; there was no one whom I could send to . . ."
She broke off.
"He was sure to be . . ."
Again she broke off; the weight of her sorrow was more than she
could bear. In such moments as these everything is agony, and
some words are impossible to utter.
"And so I counted upon you to do me this last piece of service
this evening," she said. "I should like to give you some pledge
of friendship. I shall often think of you. You have seemed to me
to be kind and noble, fresh-hearted and true, in this world where
such qualities are seldom found. I should like you to think
sometimes of me. Stay," she said, glancing about her, "there is
this box that has held my gloves. Every time I opened it before
going to a ball or to the theatre, I used to feel that I must be
beautiful, because I was so happy; and I never touched it except
to lay some gracious memory in it: there is so much of my old
self in it, of a Madame de Beauseant who now lives no longer.
Will you take it? I will leave directions that it is to be sent
to you in the Rue d'Artois.--Mme. de Nucingen looked very
charming this evening. Eugene, you must love her. Perhaps we may
never see each other again, my friend; but be sure of this, that
I shall pray for you who have been kind to me.--Now, let us go
downstairs. People shall not think that I am weeping. I have all
time and eternity before me, and where I am going I shall be
alone, and no one will ask me the reason of my tears. One last
look round first."
She stood for a moment. Then she covered her eyes with her hands
for an instant, dashed away the tears, bathed her face with cold
water, and took the student's arm.
"Let us go!" she said.
This suffering, endured with such noble fortitude, shook Eugene
with a more violentemotion than he had felt before. They went
back to the ballroom, and Mme. de Beauseant went through the
rooms on Eugene's arm--the last delicatelygracious act of a
gracious woman. In another moment he saw the sisters, Mme. de
Restaud and Mme. de Nucingen. The Countess shone in all the glory
of her magnificent diamonds; every stone must have scorched like
fire, she was never to wear them again. Strong as love and pride
might be in her, she found it difficult to meet her husband's
eyes. The sight of her was scarcely calculated to lighten
Rastignac's sad thougths; through the blaze of those diamonds he
seemed to see the wretched pallet-bed on which Father Goriot was
lying. The Vicomtesse misread his melancholy; she withdrew her
hand from his arm.
"Come," she said, "I must not deprive you of a pleasure."
Eugene was soon claimed by Delphine. She was delighted by the
impression that she had made, and eager to lay at her lover's
feet the homage she had received in this new world in which she
hoped to live and move henceforth.
"What do you think of Nasie?" she asked him.
"She has discounted everything, even her own father's death,"
said Rastignac.
Towards four o'clock in the morning the rooms began to empty. A
little later the music ceased, and the Duchesse de Langeais and
Rastignac were left in the great ballroom. The Vicomtesse, who
thought to find the student there alone, came back there at last.
She had taken leave of M. de Beauseant, who had gone off to bed,
saying again as he went, "It is a great pity, my dear, to shut
yourself up at your age! Pray stay among us."
Mme. de Beauseant saw the Duchesse, and, in spite of herself, an
exclamation broke from her.
"I saw how it was, Clara," said Mme. de Langeais. "You are going
from among us, and you will never come back. But you must not go
until you have heard me, until we have understood each other."
She took her friend's arm, and they went together into the next
room. There the Duchess looked at her with tears in her eyes; she
held her friend in close embrace and kissed her cheek.
"I could not let you go without a word, dearest; the remorse
would have been too hard to bear. You can count upon me as surely
as upon yourself. You have shown yourself great this evening; I
feel that I am worthy of our friendship, and I mean to prove
myself worthy of it. I have not always been kind; I was in the
wrong; forgive me, dearest; I wish I could unsay anything that
may have hurt you; I take back those words. One common sorrow has
brought us together again, for I do not know which of us is the
more miserable. M. de Montriveau was not here to-night; do you
understand what that means?--None of those who saw you to-night,
Clara, will ever forget you. I mean to make one last effort. If I
fail, I shall go into a convent. Clara, where are you going?"
"Into Normandy, to Courcelles. I shall love and pray there until
the day when God shall take me from this world.--M. de
Rastignac!" called the Vicomtesse, in a tremulous voice,
remembering that the young man was waiting there.
The student knelt to kiss his cousin's hand.
"Good-bye, Antoinette!" said Mme. de Beauseant. "May you be
happy."--She turned to the student. "You are young," she said;
"you have some beliefs still left. I have been privileged, like
some dying people, to find sincere and reverent feeling in those
about me as I take my leave of this world."
It was nearly five o'clock that morning when Rastignac came away.
He had put Mme. de Beauseant into her traveling carriage, and
received her last farewells, spoken amid fast-falling tears; for
no greatness is so great that it can rise above the laws of human
affection, or live beyond the jurisdiction of pain, as certain
demagogues would have the people believe. Eugene returned on foot
to the Maison Vauquer through the cold and darkness. His
education was nearly complete.
"There is no hope for poor Father Goriot," said Bianchon, as
Rastignac came into the room. Eugene looked for a while at the
sleeping man, then he turned to his friend. "Dear fellow, you are
content with the modestcareer you have marked out for yourself;
keep to it. I am in hell, and I must stay there. Believe
everything that you hear said of the world, nothing is too
impossibly bad. No Juvenal could paint the horrors hidden away
under the covering of gems and gold."
At two o'clock in the afternoon Bianchon came to wake Rastignac,
and begged him to take charge of Goriot, who had grown worse as
the day wore on. The medical student was obliged to go out.
"Poor old man, he has not two days to live, maybe not many
hours," he said; "but we must do our utmost, all the same, to
fight the disease. It will be a very troublesome case, and we
shall want money. We can nurse him between us, of course, but,
for my own part, I have not a penny. I have turned out his
pockets, and rummaged through his drawers--result, nix. I asked
him about it while his mind was clear, and he told me he had not
a farthing of his own. What have you?"
"I have twenty francs left," said Rastignac; "but I will take
them to the roulette table, I shall be sure to win."
"And if you lose?"
"Then I shall go to his sons-in-law and his daughters and ask
them for money."
"And suppose they refuse?" Bianchon retorted. "The most pressing
thing just now is not really money; we must put mustard
poultices, as hot as they can be made, on his feet and legs. If
he calls out, there is still some hope for him. You know how to
set about doing it, and besides, Christophe will help you. I am
going round to the dispensary to persuade them to let us have the
things we want on credit. It is a pity that we could not move him
to the hospital; poor fellow, he would be better there. Well,
come along, I leave you in charge; you must stay with him till I
come back."
The two young men went back to the room where the old man was
lying. Eugene was startled at the change in Goriot's face, so
livid, distorted, and feeble.
"How are you, papa?" he said, bending over the pallet-bed. Goriot
the most illustrious names in France, had gathered about the
Vicomtesse.
The music of the orchestra vibrated in wave after wave of sound
from the golden ceiling of the palace, now made desolate for its
queen.
Madame de Beauseant stood at the door of the first salon to
receive the guests who were styled her friends. She was dressed
in white, and wore no ornament in the plaits of hair braided
about her head; her face was calm; there was no sign there of
pride, nor of pain, nor of joy that she did not feel. No one
could read her soul; she stood there like some Niobe carved in
marble. For a few intimate friends there was a tinge of satire in
her smile; but no scrutiny saw any change in her, nor had she
looked otherwise in the days of the glory of her happiness. The
most callous of her guests admired her as young Rome applauded
some gladiator who could die smiling. It seemed as if society had
adorned itself for a last audience of one of its sovereigns.
"I was afraid that you would not come," she said to Rastignac.
"Madame," he said, in an unsteady voice, taking her speech as a
reproach, "I shall be the last to go, that is why I am here."
"Good," she said, and she took his hand. "You are perhaps the
only one I can trust here among all these. Oh, my friend, when
you love, love a woman whom you are sure that you can love
always. Never forsake a woman."
She took Rastignac's arm, and went towards a sofa in the card-
room.
"I want you to go to the Marquis," she said. "Jacques, my
footman, will go with you; he has a letter that you will take. I
am asking the Marquis to give my letters back to me. He will give
them all up, I like to think that. When you have my letters, go
up to my room with them. Some one shall bring me word."
She rose to go to meet the Duchesse de Langeais, her most
intimate friend, who had come like the rest of the world.
Rastignac went. He asked for the Marquis d'Ajuda at the Hotel
Rochefide, feeling certain that the latter would be spending his
evening there, and so it proved. The Marquis went to his own
house with Rastignac, and gave a casket to the student, saying as
he did so, "They are all there."
He seemed as if he was about to say something to Eugene, to ask
about the ball, or the Vicomtesse; perhaps he was on the brink of
the confession that, even then, he was in despair, and knew that
his marriage had been a fatal mistake; but a proud gleam shone in
his eyes, and with deplorable courage he kept his noblest
feelings a secret.
"Do not even mention my name to her, my dear Eugene." He grasped
Rastignac's hand sadly and affectionately, and turned away from
him. Eugene went back to the Hotel Beauseant, the servant took
him to the Vicomtesse's room. There were signs there of
preparations for a journey. He sat down by the fire, fixed his
eyes on the cedar wood casket, and fell into deep mournful
musings. Mme. de Beauseant loomed large in these imaginings, like
a goddess in the Iliad.
"Ah! my friend! . . ." said the Vicomtesse; she crossed the room
and laid her hand on Rastignac's shoulder. He saw the tears in
his cousin's uplifted eyes, saw that one hand was raised to take
the casket, and that the fingers of the other trembled. Suddenly
she took the casket, put it in the fire, and watched it burn.
"They are dancing," she said. "They all came very early; but
death will be long in coming. Hush! my friend," and she laid a
finger on Rastignac's lips, seeing that he was about to speak. "I
shall never see Paris again. I am taking my leave of the world.
At five o'clock this morning I shall set out on my journey; I
mean to bury myself in the remotest part of Normandy. I have had
very little time to make my arrangements; since three o'clock
this afternoon I have been busy signing documents, setting my
affairs in order; there was no one whom I could send to . . ."
She broke off.
"He was sure to be . . ."
Again she broke off; the weight of her sorrow was more than she
could bear. In such moments as these everything is agony, and
some words are impossible to utter.
"And so I counted upon you to do me this last piece of service
this evening," she said. "I should like to give you some pledge
of friendship. I shall often think of you. You have seemed to me
to be kind and noble, fresh-hearted and true, in this world where
such qualities are seldom found. I should like you to think
sometimes of me. Stay," she said, glancing about her, "there is
this box that has held my gloves. Every time I opened it before
going to a ball or to the theatre, I used to feel that I must be
beautiful, because I was so happy; and I never touched it except
to lay some gracious memory in it: there is so much of my old
self in it, of a Madame de Beauseant who now lives no longer.
Will you take it? I will leave directions that it is to be sent
to you in the Rue d'Artois.--Mme. de Nucingen looked very
charming this evening. Eugene, you must love her. Perhaps we may
never see each other again, my friend; but be sure of this, that
I shall pray for you who have been kind to me.--Now, let us go
downstairs. People shall not think that I am weeping. I have all
time and eternity before me, and where I am going I shall be
alone, and no one will ask me the reason of my tears. One last
look round first."
She stood for a moment. Then she covered her eyes with her hands
for an instant, dashed away the tears, bathed her face with cold
water, and took the student's arm.
"Let us go!" she said.
This suffering, endured with such noble fortitude, shook Eugene
with a more violentemotion than he had felt before. They went
back to the ballroom, and Mme. de Beauseant went through the
rooms on Eugene's arm--the last delicatelygracious act of a
gracious woman. In another moment he saw the sisters, Mme. de
Restaud and Mme. de Nucingen. The Countess shone in all the glory
of her magnificent diamonds; every stone must have scorched like
fire, she was never to wear them again. Strong as love and pride
might be in her, she found it difficult to meet her husband's
eyes. The sight of her was scarcely calculated to lighten
Rastignac's sad thougths; through the blaze of those diamonds he
seemed to see the wretched pallet-bed on which Father Goriot was
lying. The Vicomtesse misread his melancholy; she withdrew her
hand from his arm.
"Come," she said, "I must not deprive you of a pleasure."
Eugene was soon claimed by Delphine. She was delighted by the
impression that she had made, and eager to lay at her lover's
feet the homage she had received in this new world in which she
hoped to live and move henceforth.
"What do you think of Nasie?" she asked him.
"She has discounted everything, even her own father's death,"
said Rastignac.
Towards four o'clock in the morning the rooms began to empty. A
little later the music ceased, and the Duchesse de Langeais and
Rastignac were left in the great ballroom. The Vicomtesse, who
thought to find the student there alone, came back there at last.
She had taken leave of M. de Beauseant, who had gone off to bed,
saying again as he went, "It is a great pity, my dear, to shut
yourself up at your age! Pray stay among us."
Mme. de Beauseant saw the Duchesse, and, in spite of herself, an
exclamation broke from her.
"I saw how it was, Clara," said Mme. de Langeais. "You are going
from among us, and you will never come back. But you must not go
until you have heard me, until we have understood each other."
She took her friend's arm, and they went together into the next
room. There the Duchess looked at her with tears in her eyes; she
held her friend in close embrace and kissed her cheek.
"I could not let you go without a word, dearest; the remorse
would have been too hard to bear. You can count upon me as surely
as upon yourself. You have shown yourself great this evening; I
feel that I am worthy of our friendship, and I mean to prove
myself worthy of it. I have not always been kind; I was in the
wrong; forgive me, dearest; I wish I could unsay anything that
may have hurt you; I take back those words. One common sorrow has
brought us together again, for I do not know which of us is the
more miserable. M. de Montriveau was not here to-night; do you
understand what that means?--None of those who saw you to-night,
Clara, will ever forget you. I mean to make one last effort. If I
fail, I shall go into a convent. Clara, where are you going?"
"Into Normandy, to Courcelles. I shall love and pray there until
the day when God shall take me from this world.--M. de
Rastignac!" called the Vicomtesse, in a tremulous voice,
remembering that the young man was waiting there.
The student knelt to kiss his cousin's hand.
"Good-bye, Antoinette!" said Mme. de Beauseant. "May you be
happy."--She turned to the student. "You are young," she said;
"you have some beliefs still left. I have been privileged, like
some dying people, to find sincere and reverent feeling in those
about me as I take my leave of this world."
It was nearly five o'clock that morning when Rastignac came away.
He had put Mme. de Beauseant into her traveling carriage, and
received her last farewells, spoken amid fast-falling tears; for
no greatness is so great that it can rise above the laws of human
affection, or live beyond the jurisdiction of pain, as certain
demagogues would have the people believe. Eugene returned on foot
to the Maison Vauquer through the cold and darkness. His
education was nearly complete.
"There is no hope for poor Father Goriot," said Bianchon, as
Rastignac came into the room. Eugene looked for a while at the
sleeping man, then he turned to his friend. "Dear fellow, you are
content with the modestcareer you have marked out for yourself;
keep to it. I am in hell, and I must stay there. Believe
everything that you hear said of the world, nothing is too
impossibly bad. No Juvenal could paint the horrors hidden away
under the covering of gems and gold."
At two o'clock in the afternoon Bianchon came to wake Rastignac,
and begged him to take charge of Goriot, who had grown worse as
the day wore on. The medical student was obliged to go out.
"Poor old man, he has not two days to live, maybe not many
hours," he said; "but we must do our utmost, all the same, to
fight the disease. It will be a very troublesome case, and we
shall want money. We can nurse him between us, of course, but,
for my own part, I have not a penny. I have turned out his
pockets, and rummaged through his drawers--result, nix. I asked
him about it while his mind was clear, and he told me he had not
a farthing of his own. What have you?"
"I have twenty francs left," said Rastignac; "but I will take
them to the roulette table, I shall be sure to win."
"And if you lose?"
"Then I shall go to his sons-in-law and his daughters and ask
them for money."
"And suppose they refuse?" Bianchon retorted. "The most pressing
thing just now is not really money; we must put mustard
poultices, as hot as they can be made, on his feet and legs. If
he calls out, there is still some hope for him. You know how to
set about doing it, and besides, Christophe will help you. I am
going round to the dispensary to persuade them to let us have the
things we want on credit. It is a pity that we could not move him
to the hospital; poor fellow, he would be better there. Well,
come along, I leave you in charge; you must stay with him till I
come back."
The two young men went back to the room where the old man was
lying. Eugene was startled at the change in Goriot's face, so
livid, distorted, and feeble.
"How are you, papa?" he said, bending over the pallet-bed. Goriot
- ornament [´ɔ:nəmənt]
n.装饰(物) vt.装饰 (初中英语单词) - intimate [´intimit] a.亲密的 n.知己 (初中英语单词)
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz] ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- goddess [´gɔdis] n.女神 (初中英语单词)
- normandy [´nɔ:məndi] n.诺曼底 (初中英语单词)
- gracious [´greiʃəs] a.和蔼可亲的；任慈的 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- emotion [i´məuʃən] n.感情；情绪；激动 (初中英语单词)
- magnificent [mæg´nifisənt] a.壮丽的；豪华的 (初中英语单词)
- wretched [´retʃid] a.可怜的；倒霉的 (初中英语单词)
- embrace [im´breis] vt.&n.拥抱；采纳；信奉 (初中英语单词)
- worthy [´wə:ði] a.有价值的；值得的 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- miserable [´mizərəbəl] a.悲惨的；可怜的 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- sincere [sin´siə] a.真挚的；直率的 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- modest [´mɔdist] a.谦虚的；朴素的 (初中英语单词)
- career [kə´riə] n.经历；生涯；职业 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- medical [´medikəl] a.医学的；医疗的 (初中英语单词)
- utmost [´ʌtməust] a.最大的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- persuade [pə´sweid] v.(被)说服；使相信 (初中英语单词)
- illustrious [i´lʌstriəs] a.杰出的，显赫的 (高中英语单词)
- orchestra [´ɔ:kistrə] n.管弦乐队 (高中英语单词)
- desolate [´desəleit] a.荒凉的；孤独的 (高中英语单词)
- marquis [´mɑ:kwis] n.侯爵 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- confession [kən´feʃən] n.招供；认错；交待 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- eternity [i´tə:niti] n.永恒，来世，无穷 (高中英语单词)
- melancholy [´melənkəli] n.忧郁 a.忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- withdrew [wið´dru:] withdraw的过去式 (高中英语单词)
- deprive [di´praiv] vt.剥夺，使丧失 (高中英语单词)
- homage [´hɔmidʒ] n.敬意，尊敬 (高中英语单词)
- duchess [´dʌtʃis] n.公爵夫人；女公爵 (高中英语单词)
- convent [´kɔnvənt] n.女修道院；女修道会 (高中英语单词)
- greatness [´greitnis] n.巨大；高尚；卓越 (高中英语单词)
- satire [´sætaiə] n.讽刺；讽刺作品 (英语四级单词)
- forsake [fə´seik] vt.遗弃，抛弃，摒绝 (英语四级单词)
- casket [´kɑ:skit] n.(精美)匣子；首饰盒 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- delicately [´delikitli] ad.精美地；微妙地 (英语四级单词)
- delighted [di´laitid] a.高兴的；喜欢的 (英语四级单词)
- jurisdiction [,dʒuəris´dikʃən] n.裁判(权)；管辖范围 (英语四级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- deplorable [di´plɔ:rəb(ə)l] a.可悲的，悲惨的 (英语六级单词)
- affectionately [ə´fekʃnitli] ad.热情地；体贴地 (英语六级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- fortitude [´fɔ:titju:d] n.坚忍；刚毅 (英语六级单词)
- countess [´kauntis] n.伯爵夫人；女伯爵 (英语六级单词)
- tremulous [´tremjuləs] a.发抖的；震颤的 (英语六级单词)
- privileged [´privilidʒd] a.有特权的；特许的 (英语六级单词)
- farthing [´fɑ:ðiŋ] n.法新 (英语六级单词)
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