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第67节

the two brothers-第67节

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and opened her eyes wide; with terror and distress。



〃Tell me! tell me!〃 she cried。



〃Be comforted;〃 said the priest。 〃Your punishment is a proof that you

will receive pardon。 God chastens his elect。 Woe to those whose

misdeeds meet with fortunate success; they will be kneaded again in

humanity until they in their turn are sorely punished for simple

errors; and are brought to the maturity of celestial fruits。 Your

life; my daughter; has been one long error。 You have fallen into the

pit which you dug for yourself; we fail ever on the side we have

ourselves weakened。 You gave your heart to an unnatural son; in whom

you made your glory; and you have misunderstood the child who is your

true glory。 You have been so deeply unjust that you never even saw the

striking contrast between the brothers。 You owe the comfort of your

life to Joseph; while your other son has pillaged you repeatedly。 The

poor son; who loves you with no return of equal tenderness; gives you

all the comfort that your life has had; the rich son; who never thinks

of you; despises you and desires your death〃



〃Oh! no;〃 she cried。



〃Yes;〃 resumed the priest; 〃your humble position stands in the way of

his proud hopes。 Mother; these are your sins! Woman; your sorrows and

your anguish foretell that you shall know the peace of God。 Your son

Joseph is so noble that his tenderness has never been lessened by the

injustice your maternal preferences have done him。 Love him now; give

him all your heart during your remaining days; pray for him; as I

shall pray for you。〃



The eyes of the mother; opened by so firm a hand; took in with one

retrospective glance the whole course of her life。 Illumined by this

flash of light; she saw her involuntary wrong…doing and burst into

tears。 The old priest was so deeply moved at the repentance of a being

who had sinned solely through ignorance; that he left the room hastily

lest she should see his pity。



Joseph returned to his mother's room about two hours after her

confessor had left her。 He had been to a friend to borrow the

necessary money to pay his most pressing debts; and he came in on

tiptoe; thinking that his mother was asleep。 He sat down in an

armchair without her seeing him; but he sprang up with a cold chill

running through him as he heard her say; in a voice broken with

sobs;



〃Will he forgive me?〃



〃What is it; mother?〃 he exclaimed; shocked at the stricken face of

the poor woman; and thinking the words must mean the delirium that

precedes death。



〃Ah; Joseph! can you pardon me; my child?〃 she cried。



〃For what?〃 he said。



〃I have never loved you as you deserved to be loved。〃



〃Oh; what an accusation!〃 he cried。 〃Not loved me? For seven years

have we not lived alone together? All these seven years have you not

taken care of me and done everything for me? Do I not see you every

day;hear your voice? Are you not the gentle and indulgent companion

of my miserable life? You don't understand painting?Ah! but that's a

gift not always given。 I was saying to Grassou only yesterday: 'What

comforts me in the midst of my trials is that I have such a good

mother。 She is all that an artist's wife should be; she sees to

everything; she takes care of my material wants without ever troubling

or worrying me。'〃



〃No; Joseph; no; you have loved me; but I have not returned you love

for love。 Ah! would that I could live a little longer Give me your

hand。〃



Agathe took her son's hand; kissed it; held it on her heart; and

looked in his face a long time;letting him see the azure of her eyes

resplendent with a tenderness she had hitherto bestowed on Philippe

only。 The painter; well fitted to judge of expression; was so struck

by the change; and saw so plainly how the heart of his mother had

opened to him; that he took her in his arms; and held her for some

moments to his heart; crying out like one beside himself;〃My mother!

oh; my mother!〃



〃Ah! I feel that I am forgiven!〃 she said。 〃God will confirm the

child's pardon of its mother。〃



〃You must be calm: don't torment yourself; hear me。 I feel myself

loved enough in this one moment for all the past;〃 he said; as he laid

her back upon the pillows。



During the two weeks' struggle between life and death; there glowed

such love in every look and gesture and impulse of the soul of the

pious creature; that each effusion of her feelings seemed like the

expression of a lifetime。 The mother thought only of her son; she

herself counted for nothing; sustained by love; she was unaware of her

sufferings。 D'Arthez; Michel Chrestien; Fulgence Ridal; Pierre

Grassou; and Bianchon often kept Joseph company; and she heard them

talking art in a low voice in a corner of her room。



〃Oh; how I wish I knew what color is!〃 she exclaimed one evening as

she heard them discussing one of Joseph's pictures。



Joseph; on his side; was sublimely devoted to his mother。 He never

left her chamber; answered tenderness by tenderness; cherishing her

upon his heart。 The spectacle was never afterwards forgotten by his

friends; and they themselves; a band of brothers in talent and

nobility of nature; were to Joseph and his mother all that they should

have been;friends who prayed; and truly wept; not saying prayers and

shedding tears; but one with their friend in thought and action。

Joseph; inspired as much by feeling as by genius; divined in the

occasional expression of his mother's face a desire that was deep

hidden in her heart; and he said one day to d'Arthez;



〃She has loved that brigand Philippe too well not to want to see him

before she dies。〃



Joseph begged Bixiou; who frequented the Bohemian regions where

Philippe was still occasionally to be found; to persuade that

shameless son to play; if only out of pity; a little comedy of

tenderness which might wrap the mother's heart in a winding…sheet of

illusive happiness。 Bixiou; in his capacity as an observing and

misanthropical scoffer; desired nothing better than to undertake such

a mission。 When he had made known Madame Bridau's condition to the

Comte de Brambourg; who received him in a bedroom hung with yellow

damask; the colonel laughed。



〃What the devil do you want me to do there?〃 he cried。 〃The only

service the poor woman can render me is to die as soon as she can; she

would be rather a sorry figure at my marriage with Mademoiselle de

Soulanges。 The less my family is seen; the better my position。 You can

easily understand that I should like to bury the name of Bridau under

all the monuments in Pere…Lachaise。 My brother irritates me by

bringing the name into publicity。 You are too knowing not to see the

situation as I do。 Look at it as if it were your own: if you were a

deputy; with a tongue like yours; you would be as much feared as

Chauvelin; you would be made Comte Bixiou; and director of the Beaux…

Arts。 Once there; how should you like it if your grandmother Descoings

were to turn up? Would you want that worthy woman; who looked like a

Madame Saint…Leon; to be hanging on to you? Would you give her an arm

in the Tuileries; and present her to the noble family you were trying

to enter? Damn it; you'd wish her six feet under ground; in a leaden

night…gown。 Come; breakfast with me; and let us talk of something

else。 I am a parvenu; my dear fellow; and I know it。 I don't choose

that my swaddling…clothes shall be seen。 My son will be more fortunate

than I; he will be a great lord。 The scamp will wish me dead; I expect

it;or he won't be my son。〃



He rang the bell; and ordered the servant to serve breakfast。



〃The fashionable world wouldn't see you in your mother's bedroom;〃

said Bixiou。 〃What would it cost you to seem to love that poor woman

for a few hours?〃



〃Whew!〃 cried Philippe; winking。 〃So you come from them; do you? I'm

an old camel; who knows all about genuflections。 My mother makes the

excuse of her last illness to get something out of me for Joseph。 No;

thank you!〃



When Bixiou related this scene to Joseph; the poor painter was chilled

to the very soul。



〃Does Philippe know I am ill?〃 asked Agathe in a piteous tone; the day

after Bixiou had rendered an account of his fruitless errand。



Joseph left the room; suffocating with emotion。 The Abbe Loraux; who

was sitting by the bedside of his penitent; took her hand and pressed

it; and then he answered; 〃Alas! my child; you have never had but one

son。〃



The words; which Agathe understood but too well; conveyed a shock

which was the beginning of the end。 She died twenty hours later。



In the delirium which preceded death; the words; 〃Whom does Philippe

take after?〃 escaped her。



Joseph followed his mother to the grave alone。 Philippe had gone; on

business it was said; to Orleans; in reality; he was driven from Paris

by the following letter; which Joseph wrote to him a moment after

their mother had breathed her last sigh:



 

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