men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第20节
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perfumer sits down and shakes his head： 〃Always the same； Monsieur
Antoine； You artists are wonderful folk indeed。〃 But Antoine Vernet does
not heed。 He is reading the names on the bottles and bowls； Done in fine
gilt letters with wonderful scrolls。 〃What have we here？ ‘Eau Imperial
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Odontalgique。' I must say； mon cher； your names are chic。 But it won't do；
positively it will not do。 Elba doesn't count。 Ah； here is another： ‘Baume
du Commandeur'。 That's better。 He needs something to smother
Regrets。 A little lubricant； too； Might be useful。 I have it； ‘Sage Oil'；
perhaps he'll be good now； with it we'll submit This fine German rouge。
I fear he is pale。〃 〃Monsieur Antoine； don't rail At misfortune。 He treated
me well and fairly。〃 〃And you prefer him to Bourbons； admit it squarely。〃
〃Heaven forbid！〃 Bang！ Whack！ Squeak！ Squeak！ Crack！ CRASH！
〃Oh； Lord； Martin！ That shield is hash。 The whole street is covered with
golden bees。 They look like so many yellow peas； Lying there in the mud。
I'd like to paint it。 ‘Plum pudding of Empire'。 That's rather quaint； it
Might take with the Kings。 Shall I try？〃 〃Oh； Sir； You distress me； you
do。〃 〃Poor old Martin's purr！ But he hasn't a scratch in him； I know。 Now
let us get back to the powders and patches。 Foolish man； The Kings are
here now。 We must hit on a plan To change all these titles as fast as we
can。 ‘Bouquet Imperatrice'。 Tut！ Tut！ Give me some ink ‘Bouquet
de la Reine'； what do you think？ Not the same receipt？ Now； Martin； put
away your conceit。 Who will ever know？ ‘Extract of Nobility' excellent；
since most of them are killed。〃 〃But； Monsieur Antoine 〃 〃You are self…
willed； Martin。 You need a salve For your conscience； do you？ Very well；
we'll halve The compliments； also the pastes and dentifrices； Send some to
the Kings； and some to the Empresses。 ‘Oil of Bitter Almonds' the
Empress Josephine can have that。 ‘Oil of Parma Violets' fits the other one
pat。〃 Rap！ Rap！ Bang！ 〃What a hideous clatter！ Blaise seems
determined to batter That poor old turkey into bits； And pound to jelly my
excellent wits。 Come； come； Martin； you mustn't shirk。 ‘The night cometh
soon' etc。 Don't jerk Me up like that。 ‘Essence de la Valliere' That
has a charmingly Bourbon air。 And； oh！ Magnificent！ Listen to this！
‘Vinaigre des Quatre Voleurs'。 Nothing amiss With that England；
Austria； Russia and Prussia！ Martin； you're a wonder； Upheavals of
continents can't keep you under。〃 〃Monsieur Antoine； I am grieved indeed
At such levity。 What France has gone through 〃 〃Very true； Martin；
very true； But never forget that a man must feed。〃 Pound！ Pound！
Thump！ Pound！ 〃Look here； in another minute Blaise will drop that bird
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on the ground。〃 Martin shrugs his shoulders。 〃Ah； well； what then？ 〃
Antoine； with a laugh： 〃I'll give you two sous for that antiquated hen。〃
The Imperial Eagle sells for two sous； And the lilies go up。 A man
must choose！
III
Paris； April； 1814
Cold； impassive； the marble arch of the Place du Carrousel。 Haughty；
contemptuous； the marble arch of the Place du Carrousel。 Like a woman
raped by force； rising above her fate； Borne up by the cold rigidity of hate；
Stands the marble arch of the Place du Carrousel。 Tap！ Clink…a…tink！ Tap！
Rap！ Chink！ What falls to the ground like a streak of flame？ Hush！ It
is only a bit of bronze flashing in the sun。 What are all those soldiers？
Those are not the uniforms of France。 Alas！ No！ The uniforms of
France； Great Imperial France； are done。 They will rot away in chests and
hang to dusty tatters in barn lofts。 These are other armies。 And their
name？ Hush； be still for shame； Be still and imperturbable like the marble
arch。 Another bright spark falls through the blue air。 Over the Place du
Carrousel a wailing of despair。 Crowd your horses back upon the people；
Uhlans and Hungarian Lancers； They see too much。 Unfortunately；
Gentlemen of the Invading Armies； what they do not see； they hear。 Tap！
Clink…a…tink！ Tap！ Another sharp spear Of brightness； And a ringing of
quick metal lightness On hard stones。 Workmen are chipping off the
names of Napoleon's victories From the triumphal arch of the Place du
Carrousel。
Do they need so much force to quell the crowd？ An old Grenadier of
the line groans aloud； And each hammer tap points the sob of a woman。
Russia； Prussia； Austria； and the faded…white…lily Bourbon king Think it
well To guard against tumult； A mob is an undependable thing。 Ding！
Ding！ Vienna is scattered all over the Place du Carrousel In glittering； bent；
and twisted letters。 Your betters have clattered over Vienna before； Officer
of his Imperial Majesty our Father…in…Law！ Tink！ Tink！ A workman's
chisel can strew you to the winds； Munich。 Do they think To pleasure Paris；
used to the fall of cities； By giving her a fall of letters！
It is a month too late。 One month； and our lily…white Bourbon king Has
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done a colossal thing； He has curdled love； And soured the desires of a
people。 Still the letters fall； The workmen creep up and down their ladders
like lizards on a wall。 Tap！ Tap！ Tink！ Clink！ Clink！ 〃Oh； merciful
God； they will not touch Austerlitz！ Strike me blind； my God； my eyes can
never look on that。 I would give the other leg to save it； it took one。 Curse
them！ Curse them！ Aim at his hat。 Give me the stone。 Why didn't you
give it to me？ I would not have missed。 Curse him！ Curse all of them！
They have got the ‘A'！〃 Ding！ Ding！ 〃I saw the Terror； but I never saw
so horrible a thing as this。 ‘Vive l'Empereur！ Vive l'Empereur！'〃 〃Don't
strike him； Fritz。 The mob will rise if you do。 Just run him out to the ‘quai'；
That will get him out of the way。 They are almost through。〃 Clink！ Tink！
Ding！ Clear as the sudden ring Of a bell 〃Z〃 strikes the pavement。
Farewell； Austerlitz； Tilsit； Presbourg； Farewell； greatness departed。
Farewell； Imperial honours； knocked broadcast by the beating hammers
of ignorant workmen。 Straight； in the Spring moonlight； Rises the
deflowered arch。 In the silence； shining bright； She stands naked and
unsubdued。 Her marble coldness will endure the march Of decades。 Rend
her bronzes； hammers； Cast down her inscriptions。 She is unconquerable；
austere； Cold as the moon that swims above her When the nights are clear。
IV
Croissy； Ile…de…France； June； 1815
〃Whoa！ Victorine。 Devil take the mare！ I've never seen so vicious a
beast。 She kicked Jules the last time she was here； He's been lame ever
since； poor chap。〃 Rap！ Tap！ Tap…a…tap…a…tap！ Tap！ Tap！ 〃I'd rather be
lame than dead at Waterloo； M'sieu Charles。〃 〃Sacre Bleu！ Don't
mention Waterloo； and the damned grinning British。 We didn't run in the
old days。 There wasn't any running at Jena。 Those were decent days； And
decent men； who stood up and fought。 We never got beaten； because we
wouldn't be。 See！〃 〃You would have taught them； wouldn't you； Sergeant
Boignet？ But to…day it's everyone for himself； And the Emperor isn't what
he was。〃 〃How the Devil do you know that？ If he was beaten； the cause Is
the green geese in his army； led by traitors。 Oh； I say no names； Monsieur
Charles； You needn't hammer so loud。 If there are any spies lurking behind
the bellows； I beg they come out。 Dirty fellows！〃 The old Sergeant
