louis lambert-第24节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
for the other is an almost vulgar form of devotion。 To live faithful
to one love is a form of heroism that immortalized Mademoiselle
Dupuis。 When the great Napoleon and Lord Byron could find successors
in the hearts of women they had loved； we may well admire
Bolingbroke's widow； but Mademoiselle Dupuis could feed on the
memories of many years of happiness； whereas Mademoiselle de
Villenoix； having known nothing of love but its first excitement；
seemed to me to typify love in its highest expression。 If she were
herself almost crazy； it was splendid； but if she had understood and
entered into his madness； she combined with the beauty of a noble
heart a crowning effort of passion worthy to be studied and honored。
When I saw the tall turrets of the chateau； remembering how often poor
Lambert must have thrilled at the sight of them； my heart beat
anxiously。 As I recalled the events of our boyhood； I was almost a
sharer in his present life and situation。 At last I reached a wide；
deserted courtyard； and I went into the hall of the house without
meeting a soul。 There the sound of my steps brought out an old woman；
to whom I gave a letter written to Mademoiselle de Villenoix by
Monsieur Lefebvre。 In a few minutes this woman returned to bid me
enter； and led me to a low room； floored with black…and…white marble；
the Venetian shutters were closed； and at the end of the room I dimly
saw Louis Lambert。
〃Be seated； monsieur；〃 said a gentle voice that went to my heart。
Mademoiselle de Villenoix was at my side before I was aware of her
presence； and noiselessly brought me a chair； which at first I would
not accept。 It was so dark that at first I saw Mademoiselle de
Villenoix and Lambert only as two black masses perceived against the
gloomy background。 I presently sat down under the influence of the
feeling that comes over us； almost in spite of ourselves； under the
obscure vault of a church。 My eyes； full of the bright sunshine；
accustomed themselves gradually to this artificial night。
〃Monsieur is your old school…friend；〃 she said to Louis。
He made no reply。 At last I could see him； and it was one of those
spectacles that are stamped on the memory for ever。 He was standing；
his elbows resting on the cornice of the low wainscot； which threw his
body forward； so that it seemed bowed under the weight of his bent
head。 His hair was as long as a woman's； falling over his shoulders
and hanging about his face； giving him a resemblance to the busts of
the great men of the time of Louis XIV。 His face was perfectly white。
He constantly rubbed one leg against the other； with a mechanical
action that nothing could have checked； and the incessant friction of
the bones made a doleful sound。 Near him was a bed of moss on boards。
〃He very rarely lies down；〃 said Mademoiselle de Villenoix； 〃but
whenever he does； he sleeps for several days。〃
Louis stood； as I beheld him； day and night with a fixed gaze； never
winking his eyelids as we do。 Having asked Mademoiselle de Villenoix
whether a little more light would hurt our friend； on her reply I
opened the shutters a little way； and could see the expression of
Lambert's countenance。 Alas！ he was wrinkled； white…headed； his eyes
dull and lifeless as those of the blind。 His features seemed all drawn
upwards to the top of his head。 I made several attempts to talk to
him； but he did not hear me。 He was a wreck snatched from the grave； a
conquest of life from deathor of death from life！
I stayed for about an hour； sunk in unaccountable dreams； and lost in
painful thought。 I listened to Mademoiselle de Villenoix； who told me
every detail of this lifethat of a child in arms。
Suddenly Louis ceased rubbing his legs together； and said slowly：
〃The angels are white。〃
I cannot express the effect produced upon me by this utterance； by the
sound of the voice I had loved； whose accents； so painfully expected；
had seemed to be lost for ever。 My eyes filled with tears in spite of
every effort。 An involuntary instinct warned me； making me doubt
whether Louis had really lost his reason。 I was indeed well assured
that he neither saw nor heard me； but the sweetness of his tone； which
seemed to reveal heavenly happiness； gave his speech an amazing
effect。 These words； the incomplete revelation of an unknown world；
rang in our souls like some glorious distant bells in the depth of a
dark night。 I was no longer surprised that Mademoiselle de Villenoix
considered Lambert to be perfectly sane。 The life of the soul had
perhaps subdued that of the body。 His faithful companion had； no doubt
as I had at that momentintuitions of that melodious and beautiful
existence to which we give the name of Heaven in its highest meaning。
This woman； this angel； always was with him； seated at her embroidery
frame； and each time she drew the needle out she gazed at Lambert with
sad and tender feeling。 Unable to endure this terrible sightfor I
could not； like Mademoiselle de Villenoix； read all his secretsI
went out； and she came with me to walk for a few minutes and talk of
herself and of Lambert。
〃Louis must； no doubt； appear to be mad；〃 said she。 〃But he is not； if
the term mad ought only to be used in speaking of those whose brain is
for some unknown cause diseased； and who can show no reason in their
actions。 Everything in my husband is perfectly balanced。 Though he did
not actively recognize you； it is not that he did not see you。 He has
succeeded in detaching himself from his body； and discerns us under
some other aspectwhat that is； I know not。 When he speaks； he utters
wondrous things。 Only it often happens that he concludes in speech an
idea that had its beginning in his mind； or he may begin a sentence
and finish it in thought。 To other men he seems insane； to me； living
as I do in his mind； his ideas are quite lucid。 I follow the road his
spirit travels； and though I do not know every turning； I can reach
the goal with him。
〃Which of us has not often known what it is to think of some futile
thing and be led on to some serious reflection through the ideas or
memories it brings in its train？ Not unfrequently； after speaking
about some trifle； the simple starting…point of a rapid train of
reflections； a thinker may forget or be silent as to the abstract
connection of ideas leading to his conclusion； and speak again only to
utter the last link in the chain of his meditations。
〃Inferior minds； to whom this swift mental vision is a thing unknown；
who are ignorant of the spirit's inner workings； laugh at the dreamer；
and if he is subject to this kind of obliviousness； regard him as a
madman。 Louis is always in this state； he soars perpetually through
the spaces of thought； traversing them with the swiftness of a
swallow； I can follow him in his flight。 This is the whole history of
his madness。 Some day； perhaps； Louis will come back to the life in
which we vegetate； but if he breathes the air of heaven before the
time when we may be permitted to do so； why should we desire to have
him down among us？ I am content to hear his heart beat； and all my
happiness is to be with him。 Is he not wholly mine？ In three years；
twice at intervals he was himself for a few days； once in Switzerland；
where we went； and once in an island off the wilds of Brittany； where
we took some sea…baths。 I have twice been very happy！ I can live on
memory。〃
〃But do you write down the things he says？〃 I asked。
〃Why should I？〃 said she。
I was silent； human knowledge was indeed as nothing in this woman's
eyes。
〃At those times； when he talked a little；〃 she added； 〃I think I have
recorded some of his phrases； but I left it off； I did not understand
him then。〃
I asked her for them by a look； she understood me。 This is what I have
been able to preserve from oblivion。
I
Everything here on earth is produced by an ethereal substance
which is the common element of various phenomena； known
inaccurately as electricity； heat； light； the galvanic fluid； the
magnetic fluid； and so forth。 The universal distribution of this
substance； under various forms； constitutes what is commonly known
as Matter。
II
The brain is the alembic to which the Animal conveys what each of
its organizations； in proportion to the strength of that vessel；
can absorb of that Substance； which returns it transformed into
Will。
The Will is a fluid inherent in every creature endowed with
motion。 Hence the innumerable forms assumed by the Animal； the
results of its combinations with that Substance。 The Animal's
instincts are the product of the coercion of the environment in
which it develops。 Hence its variety。
III
In Man the Will becomes a power peculiar to him； and exceeding in
intensity that of any other species。
IV
By constant assimilation； the Will depends on the Substance it
meets with again and again in all its transmutations； pervading
them by Thought； which is a product peculiar to the human Will； in
combination with the modifications of that Substance。
V
The innumerable forms assumed by Thought are the result of the
greater or less perfection of the human me
