martin guerre-第2节
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Arguing thus; he bent over the prostrate man with a cynical laugh:
one might have thought he was Satan watching the departure of a soul
too utterly lost to escape him。
〃Alas! alas!〃 cried the sufferer; 〃may God have mercy on me! I feel
my end is near。〃
〃Bah! comrade; drive away these dismal thoughts。 Your leg pains you
well they will cut it off! Think only of the other one; and trust
in Providence!〃
〃Water; a drop of water; for Heaven's sake!〃 The sufferer was in a
high fever。 The would…be nurse looked round and saw a jug of water;
towards which the dying man extended a trembling hand。 A truly
infernal idea entered his mind。 He poured some water into a gourd
which hung from his belt; held it to the lips of the wounded man; and
then withdrew it。
〃Oh! I thirst…that water! 。 。 。 For pity's sake; give me some!〃
〃Yes; but on one condition you must tell me your whole history。〃
〃Yes 。 。 。 but give me water!〃
His tormentor allowed him to swallow a mouthful; then overwhelmed him
with questions as to his family; his friends and fortune; and
compelled him to answer by keeping before his eyes the water which
alone could relieve the fever which devoured him。 After this often
interrupted interrogation; the sufferer sank back exhausted; and
almost insensible。 But; not yet satisfied; his companion conceived
the idea of reviving him with a few drops of brandy; which quickly
brought back the fever; and excited his brain sufficiently to enable
him to answer fresh questions。 The doses of spirit were doubled
several times; at the risk of ending the unhappy man's days then and
there: Almost delirious; his head feeling as if on fire; his
sufferings gave way to a feverish excitement; which took him back to
other places and other times: he began to recall the days of his
youth and the country where he lived。 But his tongue was still
fettered by a kind of reserve: his secret thoughts; the private
details of his past life were not yet told; and it seemed as though
he might die at any moment。 Time was passing; night already coming
on; and it occurred to the merciless questioner to profit by the
gathering darkness。 By a few solemn words he aroused the religious
feelings of the sufferer; terrified him by speaking of the
punishments of another life and the flames of hell; until to the
delirious fancy of the sick man he took the form of a judge who could
either deliver him to eternal damnation or open the gates of heaven
to him。 At length; overwhelmed by a voice which resounded in his ear
like that of a minister of God; the dying man laid bare his inmost
soul before his tormentor; and made his last confession to him。
Yet a few moments; and the executionerhe deserves no other name
hangs over his victim; opens his tunic; seizes some papers and a few
coins; half draws his dagger; but thinks better of it; then;
contemptuously spurning the victim; as the other surgeon had done
〃I might kill you;〃 he says; 〃but it would be a useless murder; it
would only be hastening your last Sigh by an hour or two; and
advancing my claims to your inheritance by the same space of time。〃
And he adds mockingly:
〃Farewell; my brother!〃
The wounded soldier utters a feeble groan; the adventurer leaves the
room。
Four months later; a woman sat at the door of a house at one end ;of
the village of Artigues; near Rieux; and played with a child about
nine or ten years of age。 Still young; she had the brown complexion
of Southern women; and her beautiful black hair fell in curls about
her face。 Her flashing eyes occasionally betrayed hidden passions;
concealed; however; beneath an apparent indifference and lassitude;
and her wasted form seemed to acknowledge the existence of some
secret grief。 An observer would have divined a shattered life; a
withered happiness; a soul grievously wounded。
Her dress was that of a wealthy peasant; and she wore one of the long
gowns with hanging sleeves which were in fashion in the sixteenth
century。 The house in front of which she sat belonged to her; so
also the immense field which adjoined the garden。 Her attention was
divided between the play of her son and the orders she was giving to
an old servant; when an exclamation from the child startled her。
〃Mother!〃 he cried; 〃mother; there he is!〃
She looked where the child pointed; and saw a young boy turning the
corner of the street。
〃Yes;〃 continued the child; 〃that is the lad who; when I was playing
with the other boys yesterday; called me all sorts of bad names。〃
〃What sort of names; my child?〃
〃There was one I did not understand; but it must have been a very bad
one; for the other boys all pointed at me; and left me alone。 He
called meand he said it was only what his mother had told himhe
called me a wicked bastard!〃
His mother's face became purple with indignation。 〃What!〃 she cried;
〃they dared! 。 。 。 What an insult!〃
〃What does this bad word mean; mother?〃 asked the child; half
frightened by her anger。 〃Is that what they call poor children who
have no father?〃
His mother folded him in her arms。 〃Oh!〃 she continued; 〃it is an
infamous slander! These people never saw your father; they have only
been here six years; and this is the eighth since he went away; but
this is abominable! We were married in that church; we came at once
to live in this house; which was my marriage portion; and my poor
Martin has relations and friends here who will not allow his wife to
be insulted〃
〃Say rather; his widow;〃 interrupted a solemn voice。
〃Ah! uncle!〃 exclaimed the woman; turning towards an old man who had
just emerged from the house。
〃Yes; Bertrande;〃 continued the new…comer; 〃you must get reconciled
to the idea that my nephew has ceased to exist。 I am sure he was not
such a fool as to have remained all this time without letting us hear
from him。 He was not the fellow to go off at a tangent; on account
of a domestic quarrel which you have never vouchsafed to explain to
me; and to retain his anger during all these eight years! Where did
he go? What did he do? We none of us know; neither you nor I; nor
anybody else。 He is assuredly dead; and lies in some graveyard far
enough from here。 May God have mercy on his soul!〃
Bertrande; weeping; made the sign of the cross; and bowed her head
upon her hands。
〃Good…bye; Sanxi;〃 said the uncle; tapping the child's;' cheek。
Sanxi turned sulkily away。
There was certainly nothing specially attractive about the uncle: he
belonged to a type which children instinctively dislike; false;
crafty; with squinting eyes which continually appeared to contradict
his honeyed tongue。
〃Bertrande;〃 he said; 〃your boy is like his father before him; and
only answers my kindness with rudeness。〃
〃Forgive him;〃 answered the mother; 〃he is very young; and does not
understand the respect due to his father's uncle。 I will teach him
better things; he will soon learn that he ought to be grateful for
the care you have taken of his little property。〃
〃No doubt; no doubt;〃 said the uncle; trying hard to smile。 〃I will
give you a good account of it; for I shall only have to reckon with
you two in future。 Come; my dear; believe me; your husband is really
dead; and you have sorrowed quite enough for a good…for…nothing
fellow。 Think no more of him。〃
So saying; he departed; leaving the poor young woman a prey to the
saddest thoughts。
Bertrande de Rolls; naturally gifted with extreme sensibility; on
which a careful education had imposed due restraint; had barely
completed her twelfth year when she was married to Martin Guerre; a
boy of about the same age; such precocious unions being then not
uncommon; especially in the Southern provinces。 They were generally
settled by considerations of family interest; assisted by the
extremely early development habitual to the climate。 The young
couple lived for a long time as brother and sister; and Bertrande;
thus early familiar with the idea of domestic happiness; bestowed her
whole affection on the youth whom she had been taught to regard as
her life's companion。 He was the Alpha and Omega of her existence;
all her love; all her thoughts; were given to him; and when their
marriage was at length completed; the birth of a son seemed only
another link in the already long existing bond of union。 But; as
many wise men have remarked; a uniform happiness; which only attaches
women more and more; has often upon men a precisely contrary effect;
and so it was with Martin Guerre。 Of a lively and excitable
temperament; he wearied of a yoke which had been imposed so early;
and; anxious to see the world and enjoy some freedom; he one day took
advantage of a domestic difference; in which Bertrande owned herself
to have been wrong; and left his house and family。 He was sought and
awaited