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the crime of sylvestre bonnard-第12节

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〃Perfectly understood!〃 declared the auctioneer。  〃Six thousand five hundred。  Perfectly clear; perfectly plain。。。。  Any more bids?  The last bid is six thousand five hundred francs。〃

A solemn silence prevailed。  Suddenly I felt as if my head had burst open。  It was the hammer of the officiant; who; with a loud blow on the platform; adjudged No。 42 irrevocably to Signor Polizzi。  Forthwith the pen of the clerk; coursing over the papier…timbre; registered that great fact in a single line。

I was absolutely prostrated; and I felt the utmost need of rest and quiet。  Nevertheless; I did not leave my seat。  My powers of reflection slowly returned。  Hope is tenacious。  I had one more hope。 It occurred to me that the new owner of the 〃Legende Doree〃 might be some intelligent and liberal bibliophile who would allow me to examine the MS。; and perhaps even to publish the more important parts。  And; with this idea; as soon as the sale was over I approached the expert as he was leaving the platform。

〃Monsieur;〃 I asked him; 〃did you buy in No。 42 on your own account; or on commission?〃

〃On commission。  I was instructed not to let it go at any price。〃

〃Can you tell me the name of the purchaser?〃

〃Monsieur; I regret that I cannot serve you in that respect。  I have been strictly forbidden to mention the name。〃

I went home in despair。



December 30; 1859。


〃Therese! don't you hear the bell?  Somebody has been ringing at the door for the last quarter of an hour?〃

Therese does not answer。  She is chattering downstairs with the concierge; for sure。  So that is the way you observe your old master's birthday?  You desert me even on the eve of Saint…Sylvestre!  Alas! if I am to hear any kind wishes to…day; they must come up from the ground; for all who love me have long been buried。  I really don't know what I am still living for。  There is the bell again!。。。  I get up slowly from my seat at the fire; with my shoulders still bent from stooping over it; and go to the door myself。  Whom do I see at the threshold?  It is not a dripping love; and I am not an old Anacreon; but it is a very pretty little boy of about ten years old。 He is alone; he raises his face to look at me。  His cheeks are blushing; but his little pert nose gives one an idea of mischievous pleasantry。  He has feathers in his cap; and a great lace…ruff on his jacket。  The pretty little fellow!  He holds in both arms a bundle as big as himself; and asks me if I am Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard。  I tell him yes; he gives me the bundle; tells me his mamma sent it to me; and then he runs downstairs。

I go down a few steps; I lean over the balustrade; and see the little cap whirling down the spiral of the stairway like a feather in the wind。  〃Good…bye; my little boy!〃  I should have liked so much to question him。  But what; after all; could I have asked?  It is not polite to question children。  Besides; the package itself will probably give me more information than the messenger could。

It is a very big bundle; but not very heavy。  I take it into my library; and there untie the ribbons and unfasten the paper wrappings; and I seewhat? a log! a first…class log! a real Christmas log; but so light that I know it must be hollow。  Then I find that it is indeed composed of two separate pieces; opening on hinges; and fastened with hooks。  I slip the hooks back; and find myself inundated with violets!  Violets! they pour over my table; over my knees; over the carpet。  They tumble into my vest; into my sleeves。  I am all perfumed with them。

〃Therese!  Therese! fill me some vases with water; and bring them here; quick!  Here are violets sent to us I know not from what country nor by what hand; but it must be from a perfumed country; and by a very gracious hand。。。。  Do you hear me; old crow?〃

I have put all the violets on my tablenow completely covered by the odorous mass。  But there is still something in the log。。。a booka manuscript。  It is。。。I cannot believe it; and yet I cannot doubt it。。。。  It is the 〃Legende Doree〃!It is the manuscript of the Clerk Alexander!  Here is the 〃Purification of the Virgin〃 and the 〃Coronation of Proserpine〃;here is the legend of Saint Droctoveus。 I contemplate this violet…perfumed relic。  I turn the leaves of it between which the dark rich blossoms have slipped in here and there; and; right opposite the legend of Saint…Cecilia; I find a card bearing this name:

〃Princess Trepof。〃

Princess Trepof!you who laughed and wept by turns so sweetly under the fair sky of Agrigentum!you; whom a cross old man believed to be only a foolish little woman!to…day I am convinced of your rare and beautiful folly; and the old fellow whom you now overwhelm with happiness will go to kiss your hand; and give you back; in another form; this precious manuscript; of which both he and science owe you an exact and sumptuous publication!

Therese entered my study just at that moment; she seemed to be very much excited。

〃Monsieur!〃 she cried; 〃guess whom I saw just now in a carriage; with a coat…of…arms painted on it; that was stopping before the door?〃

〃Parbleu!Madame Trepof;〃 I exclaimed。

〃I don't know anything about any Madame Trepof;〃 answered my housekeeper。  〃The woman I saw just now was dressed like a duchess; and had a little boy with her; with lace…frills all along the seams of his clothes。  And it was that same little Madame Coccoz you once sent a log to; when she was lying…in here about eleven years ago。  I recognized her at once。〃

〃What!〃 I exclaimed; 〃you mean to say it was Madame Coccoz; the widow of the almanac…peddler?〃

〃Herself; Monsieur!  The carriage…door was open for a minute to let her little boy; who had just come from I don't know where; get in。 She hasn't changed scarcely at all。  Well; why should those women change?they never worry themselves about anything。  Only the Coccoz woman looks a little fatter than she used to be。  And the idea of a woman that was taken in here out of pure charity coming to show off her velvets and diamonds in a carriage with a crest painted on it! Isn't it shameful!〃

〃Therese!〃 I cried; in a terrible voice; 〃if you ever speak to me again about that lady except in terms of the deepest respect; you and I will fall out!  。。。Bring me the Sevres vases to put those violets in; which now give the City of Books a charm it never had before。〃

While Therese went off with a sigh to get the Sevres vases; I continued to contemplate those beautiful scattered violets; whose odour spread all about me like the perfume of some sweet presence; some charming soul; and I asked myself how it had been possible for me never to recognise Madame Coccoz in the person of the Princess Trepof。  But that vision of the young widow; showing me her little child on the stairs; had been a very rapid one。  I had much more reason to reproach myself for having passed by a gracious and lovely soul without knowing it。

〃Bonnard;〃 I said to myself; 〃thou knowest how to decipher old texts; but thou dost not know how to read in the Book of Life。  That giddy little Madame Trepof; whom thou once believed to possess no more soul than a bird; has expended; in pure gratitude; more zeal and finer tact than thou didst ever show for anybody's sake。  Right royally hath she repaid thee for the log…fire of her churching…day!

〃Therese!  Awhile ago you were a magpie; now you are becoming a tortoise!  Come and give some water to these Parmese violets。〃




Part II  The Daughter of Clementine





Chapter I  The Fairy


When I left the train at the Melun station; night had already spread its peace over the silent country。  The soil; heated through all the long day by a strong sunby a 〃gros soleil;〃 as the harvesters of the Val de Vire saystill exhaled a warm heavy smell。  Lush dense odours of grass passed over the level of the fields。  I brushed away the dust of the railway carriage; and joyfully inhaled the pure air。  My travelling…bagfilled by my housekeeper wit linen and various small toilet articles; munditiis; seemed so light in my hand that I swung it about just as a schoolboy swings his strapped package of rudimentary books when the class is let out。

Would to Heaven that I were again a little urchin at school!  But it is fully fifty years since my good dead mother made me some tartines of bread and preserves; and placed them in a basket of which she slipped the handle over my arm; and then led me; thus prepared; to the school kept by Monsieur Douloir; at a corner of the Passage du Commerce well known to the sparrows; between a court and a garden。 The enormous Monsieur Douloir smiled upon us genially; and patted my cheek to show; no doubt; the affectionate interest which my first appearance had inspired。  But when my mother had passed out of the court; startling the sparrows as she went; Monsieur Douloir ceased to smilehe showed no more affectionate interest; he appeared; on the contrary; to consider me as a very troublesome little fellow。 I discovered; later on; that he entertained the same feelings towards all his pupils。  He distributed whacks of his ferule with an agility no one could have expected on the part of so corpulent a person。  But his first aspect of tender interest invariably reappeared when he spoke to any

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