stories by english authors in france(旅法英国作家的故事)-第2节
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Eliasand they'll send the coach for you？〃
〃/Hominibus/ impossible；〃 replied the monk； as he filled his glass。
Tabary was in ecstasies。
Villon filliped his nose again。
〃Laugh at my jokes； if you like；〃 he said。
Villon made a face at him。 〃Think of rhymes to 'fish；' 〃 he said。 〃What
have you to do with Latin？ You'll wish you knew none of it at the great
assizes； when the devil calls for Guido Tabary； /clericus/the devil with
the humpback and red…hot fingernails。 Talking of the devil；〃 he added； in a
whisper； 〃look at Montigny！〃
All three peered covertly at the gamester。 He did not seem to be
enjoying his luck。 His mouth was a little to a side； one nostril nearly shut；
and the other much inflated。 The black dog was on his back； as people say；
in terrifying nursery metaphor； and he breathed hard under the gruesome
burden。
〃He looks as if he could knife him；〃 whispered Tabary； with round
eyes。
The monk shuddered； and turned his face and spread his open hands to
the red embers。 It was the cold that thus affected Dom Nicolas； and not
any excess of moral sensibility。
〃Come now；〃 said Villon〃about this ballade。 How does it run so far？〃
And beating time with his hand； he read it aloud to Tabary。
They were interrupted at the fourth rhyme by a brief and fatal
movement among the gamesters。 The round was completed； and Thevenin
was just opening his mouth to claim another victory； when Montigny
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leaped up； swift as an adder； and stabbed him to the heart。 The blow took
effect before he had time to utter a cry； before he had time to move。 A
tremor or two convulsed his frame； his hands opened and shut； his heels
rattled on the floor； then his head rolled backward over one shoulder； with
eyes wide open； and Thevenin Pensete's spirit had returned to Him who
made it。
Every one sprang to his feet； but the business was over in two twos。
The four living fellows looked at each other in rather a ghastly fashion； the
dead man contemplating a corner of the roof with a singular and ugly leer。
〃My God！〃 said Tabary； and he began to pray in Latin。
Villon broke out into hysterical laughter。 He came a step forward and
ducked a ridiculous bow at Thevenin； and laughed still louder。 Then he sat
down suddenly； all of a heap； upon a stool； and continued laughing bitterly；
as though he would shake himself to pieces。
Montigny recovered his composure first。
〃Let's see what he has about him；〃 he remarked； and he picked the
dead man's pockets with a practised hand； and divided the money into four
equal portions on the table。 〃There's for you；〃 he said。
The monk received his share with a deep sigh； and a single stealthy
glance at the dead Thevenin； who was beginning to sink into himself and
topple sideways off the chair。
〃We're all in for it；〃 cried Villon； swallowing his mirth。 〃It's a hanging
job for every man Jack of us that's herenot to speak of those who aren't。〃
He made a shocking gesture in the air with his raised right hand； and put
out his tongue and threw his head on one side； so as to counterfeit the
appearance of one who has been hanged。 Then he pocketed his share of
the spoil； and executed a shuffle with his feet as if to restore the
circulation。
Tabary was the last to help himself； he made a dash at the money； and
retired to the other end of the apartment。
Montigny stuck Thevenin upright in the chair； and drew out the dagger；
which was followed by a jet of blood。
〃You fellows had better be moving；〃 he said； as he wiped the blade on
his victim's doublet。
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〃I think we had；〃 returned Villon； with a gulp。 〃Damn his fat head！〃 he
broke out。 〃It sticks in my throat like phlegm。 What right has a man to
have red hair when he is dead？〃 And he fell all of a heap again upon the
stool； and fairly covered his face with his hands。
Montigny and Dom Nicolas laughed aloud； even Tabary feebly
chiming in。
〃Cry…baby！〃 said the monk。
〃I always said he was a woman；〃 added Montigny； with a sneer。 〃Sit
up； can't you？〃 he went on； giving another shake to the murdered body。
〃Tread out that fire； Nick！〃
But Nick was better employed； he was quietly taking Villon's purse； as
the poet sat； limp and trembling； on the stool where he had been making a
ballade not three minutes before。 Montigny and Tabary dumbly demanded
a share of the booty； which the monk silently promised as he passed the
little bag into the bosom of his gown。 In many ways an artistic nature
unfits a man for practical existence。
No sooner had the theft been accomplished than Villon shook himself；
jumped to his feet； and began helping to scatter and extinguish the embers。
Meanwhile Montigny opened the door and cautiously peered into the
street。 The coast was clear； there was no meddlesome patrol in sight。 Still
it was judged wiser to slip out severally； and as Villon was himself in a
hurry to escape from the neighbourhood of the dead Thevenin； and the rest
were in a still greater hurry to get rid of him before he should discover the
loss of his money； he was the first by general consent to issue forth into
the street。
The wind had triumphed and swept all the clouds from heaven。 Only a
few vapours； as thin as moonlight； fleeted rapidly across the stars。 It was
bitter cold； and； by a common optical effect； things seemed almost more
definite than in the broadest daylight。 The sleeping city was absolutely still；
a company of white hoods； a field full of little alps； below the twinkling
stars。 Villon cursed his fortune。 Would it were still snowing！ Now；
wherever he went； he left an indelible trail behind him on the glittering
streets； wherever he went； he was still tethered to the house by the
cemetery of St。 John； wherever he went； he must weave； with his own
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plodding feet； the rope that bound him to the crime and would bind him to
the gallows。 The leer of the dead man came back to him with new
significance。 He snapped his fingers as if to pluck up his own spirits； and；
choosing a street at random； stepped boldly forward in the snow。
Two things preoccupied him as he went： the aspect of the gallows at
Montfaucon in this bright； windy phase of the night's existence； for one；
and for another； the look of the dead man with his bald head and garland
of red curls。 Both struck cold upon his heart； and he kept quickening his
pace as if he could escape from unpleasant thoughts by mere fleetness of
foot。 Sometimes he looked back over his shoulder with a sudden nervous
jerk； but he was the only moving thing in the white streets； except when
the wind swooped round a corner and threw up the snow； which was
beginning to freeze； in spouts of glittering dust。
Suddenly he saw； a long way before him； a black clump and a couple
of lanterns。 The clump was in motion； and the lanterns swung as though
carried by men walking。 It was a patrol。 And though it was merely
crossing his line of march he judged it wiser to get out of eyeshot as
speedily as he could。 He was not in the humour to be challenged； and he
was conscious of making a very conspicuous mark upon the snow。 Just on
his left hand there stood a great hotel； with some turrets and a large porch
before the door； it was half ruinous； he remembered； and had long stood
empty； and so he made three steps of it； and jumped into the shelter of the
porch。 It was pretty dark inside； after the glimmer of the snowy streets；
and he was groping forward with outspread hands； when he stumbled over
some substance which offered an indescribable mixture of resistances；
hard and soft； firm and loose。 His heart gave a leap； and he sprang two
steps back and stared dreadfully at the obstacle。 Then he gave a little laugh
of relief。 It was only a woman； and she dead。 He knelt beside her to make
sure upon this latter poin
