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