the magic skin-第52节

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expressing　in　this　way　even　while　she　slept　the　anxious　tenderness　of

love。　Pauline　seemed　to　look　at　him　as　she　lay　with　her　face　turned

towards　him　in　an　attitude　as　full　of　grace　as　a　young　child's；　with

her　pretty；　half…opened　mouth　held　out　towards　him；　as　she　drew　her

light；　even　breath。　Her　little　pearly　teeth　seemed　to　heighten　the

redness　of　the　fresh　lips　with　the　smile　hovering　over　them。　The　red

glow　in　her　complexion　was　brighter；　and　its　whiteness　was；　so　to

speak；　whiter　still　just　then　than　in　the　most　impassioned　moments　of

the　waking　day。　In　her　unconstrained　grace；　as　she　lay；　so　full　of

believing　trust；　the　adorable　attractions　of　childhood　were　added　to

the　enchantments　of　love。



Even　the　most　unaffected　women　still　obey　certain　social　conventions；

which　restrain　the　free　expansion　of　the　soul　within　them　during　their

waking　hours；　but　slumber　seems　to　give　them　back　the　spontaneity　of

life　which　makes　infancy　lovely。　Pauline　blushed　for　nothing；　she　was

like　one　of　those　beloved　and　heavenly　beings；　in　whom　reason　has　not

yet　put　motives　into　their　actions　and　mystery　into　their　glances。　Her

profile　stood　out　in　sharp　relief　against　the　fine　cambric　of　the

pillows；　there　was　a　certain　sprightliness　about　her　loose　hair　in

confusion；　mingled　with　the　deep　lace　ruffles；　but　she　was　sleeping　in

happiness；　her　long　lashes　were　tightly　pressed　against　her　cheeks；　as

if　to　secure　her　eyes　from　too　strong　a　light；　or　to　aid　an　effort　of

her　soul　to　recollect　and　to　hold　fast　a　bliss　that　had　been　perfect

but　fleeting。　Her　tiny　pink　and　white　ear；　framed　by　a　lock　of　her

hair　and　outlined　by　a　wrapping　of　Mechlin　lace；　would　have　made　an

artist；　a　painter；　an　old　man；　wildly　in　love；　and　would　perhaps　have

restored　a　madman　to　his　senses。



Is　it　not　an　ineffable　bliss　to　behold　the　woman　that　you　love；

sleeping；　smiling　in　a　peaceful　dream　beneath　your　protection；　loving

you　even　in　dreams；　even　at　the　point　where　the　individual　seems　to

cease　to　exist；　offering　to　you　yet　the　mute　lips　that　speak　to　you　in

slumber　of　the　latest　kiss？　Is　it　not　indescribable　happiness　to　see　a

trusting　woman；　half…clad；　but　wrapped　round　in　her　love　as　by　a　cloak

modesty　in　the　midst　of　dishevelmentto　see　admiringly　her

scattered　clothing；　the　silken　stocking　hastily　put　off　to　please　you

last　evening；　the　unclasped　girdle　that　implies　a　boundless　faith　in

you。　A　whole　romance　lies　there　in　that　girdle；　the　woman　that　it　used

to　protect　exists　no　longer；　she　is　yours；　she　has　become　YOU；

henceforward　any　betrayal　of　her　is　a　blow　dealt　at　yourself。



In　this　softened　mood　Raphael's　eyes　wandered　over　the　room；　now

filled　with　memories　and　love；　and　where　the　very　daylight　seemed　to

take　delightful　hues。　Then　he　turned　his　gaze　at　last　upon　the

outlines　of　the　woman's　form；　upon　youth　and　purity；　and　love　that

even　now　had　no　thought　that　was　not　for　him　alone；　above　all　things；

and　longed　to　live　for　ever。　As　his　eyes　fell　upon　Pauline；　her　own

opened　at　once　as　if　a　ray　of　sunlight　had　lighted　on　them。



〃Good…morning；〃　she　said；　smiling。　〃How　handsome　you　are；　bad　man！〃



The　grace　of　love　and　youth；　of　silence　and　dawn；　shone　in　their

faces；　making　a　divine　picture；　with　the　fleeting　spell　over　it　all

that　belongs　only　to　the　earliest　days　of　passion；　just　as　simplicity

and　artlessness　are　the　peculiar　possession　of　childhood。　Alas！　love's

springtide　joys；　like　our　own　youthful　laughter；　must　even　take

flight；　and　live　for　us　no　longer　save　in　memory；　either　for　our

despair；　or　to　shed　some　soothing　fragrance　over　us；　according　to　the

bent　of　our　inmost　thoughts。



〃What　made　me　wake　you？〃　said　Raphael。　〃It　was　so　great　a　pleasure　to

watch　you　sleeping　that　it　brought　tears　to　my　eyes。〃



〃And　to　mine；　too；〃　she　answered。　〃I　cried　in　the　night　while　I

watched　you　sleeping；　but　not　with　happiness。　Raphael；　dear；　pray

listen　to　me。　Your　breathing　is　labored　while　you　sleep；　and　something

rattles　in　your　chest　that　frightens　me。　You　have　a　little　dry　cough

when　you　are　asleep；　exactly　like　my　father's；　who　is　dying　of

phthisis。　In　those　sounds　from　your　lungs　I　recognized　some　of　the

peculiar　symptoms　of　that　complaint。　Then　you　are　feverish；　I　know　you

are；　your　hand　was　moist　and　burningDarling；　you　are　young；〃　she

added　with　a　shudder；　〃and　you　could　still　get　over　it　if

unfortunatelyBut；　no；〃　she　cried　cheerfully；　〃there　is　no

'unfortunately；'　the　disease　is　contagious；　so　the　doctors　say。〃



She　flung　both　arms　about　Raphael；　drawing　in　his　breath　through　one

of　those　kisses　in　which　the　soul　reaches　its　end。



〃I　do　not　wish　to　live　to　old　age；〃　she　said。　〃Let　us　both　die　young；

and　go　to　heaven　while　flowers　fill　our　hands。〃



〃We　always　make　such　designs　as　those　when　we　are　well　and　strong；〃

Raphael　replied；　burying　his　hands　in　Pauline's　hair。　But　even　then　a

horrible　fit　of　coughing　came　on；　one　of　those　deep　ominous　coughs

that　seem　to　come　from　the　depths　of　the　tomb；　a　cough　that　leaves　the

sufferer　ghastly　pale；　trembling；　and　perspiring；　with　aching　sides

and　quivering　nerves；　with　a　feeling　of　weariness　pervading　the　very

marrow　of　the　spine；　and　unspeakable　languor　in　every　vein。　Raphael

slowly　laid　himself　down；　pale；　exhausted；　and　overcome；　like　a　man

who　has　spent　all　the　strength　in　him　over　one　final　effort。　Pauline's

eyes；　grown　large　with　terror；　were　fixed　upon　him；　she　lay　quite

motionless；　pale；　and　silent。



〃Let　us　commit　no　more　follies；　my　angel；〃　she　said；　trying　not　to　let

Raphael　see　the　dreadful　forebodings　that　disturbed　her。　She　covered

her　face　with　her　hands；　for　she　saw　Death　before　herthe　hideous

skeleton。　Raphael's　face　had　grown　as　pale　and　livid　as　any　skull

unearthed　from　a　churchyard　to　assist　the　studies　of　some　scientific

man。　Pauline　remembered　the　exclamation　that　had　escaped　from　Valentin

the　previous　evening；　and　to　herself　she　said：



〃Yes；　there　are　gulfs　that　love　can　never　cross；　and　therein　love　must

bury　itself。〃



On　a　March　morning；　some　days　after　this　wretched　scene；　Raphael　found

himself　seated　in　an　armchair；　placed　in　the　window　in　the　full　light

of　day。　Four　doctors　stood　round　him；　each　in　turn　trying　his　pulse；

feeling　him　over；　and　questioning　him　with　apparent　interest。　The

invalid　sought　to　guess　their　thoughts；　putting　a　construction　on

every　movement　they　made；　and　on　the　slightest　contractions　of　their

brows。　His　last　hope　lay　in　this　consultation。　This　court　of　appeal

was　about　to　pronounce　its　decisionlife　or　death。



Valentin　had　summoned　the　oracles　of　modern　medicine；　so　that　he　might

have　the　last　word　of　science。　Thanks　to　his　wealth　and　title；　there

stood　before　him　three　embodied　theories；　human　knowledge　fluctuated

round　the　three　points。　Three　of　the　doctors　brought　among　them　the

complete　circle　of　medical　philosophy；　they　represented　the　points　of

conflict　round　which　the　battle　raged；　between　Spiritualism；　Analysis；

and　goodness　knows　what　in　the　way　of　mocking　eclecticism。



The　fourth　doctor　was　Horace　Bianchon；　a　man　of　science　with　a　future

before　him；　the　most　distinguished　man　of　the　new　school　in　medicine；

a　discreet　and　unassuming　representative　of　a　studious　generation　that

is　preparing　to　receive　the　inheritance　of　fifty　years　of　experience

treasured　up　by　the　Ecole　de　Paris；　a　generation　that　perhaps　will

erect　the　monument　for　the　building　of　which　the　centuries　behind　us

have　collected　the　different　materials。　As　a　personal　friend　of　the

Marquis　and　of　Rastignac；　he　had　been　in　attendance　on　the　former　for

some　days　past；　and　was　helping　him　to　answer　the　inquiries　of　the

three　professors；　occasionally　insisting　somewhat　upon　those　symptoms

which；　in　his　opinion；　pointed　to　pulmonary　disease。



〃You　have　been　living　at　a　great　pace；　leading　a　dissipated　life；　no

doubt；　and　you　have　devoted　yourself　largely　to　intellectual　work？〃

queried　one　of　the　three　celebrated　authorities；　addressing　Raphael。

He　was　a　square…headed　man；　with　a　large　frame　and　energetic

organization；　which　seemed　to　mark　him　out　as　superior　to　his　two

rivals。



〃I　made　up　my　mind　to　kill　myself　with　debauchery；　after　spending

three　years　over　an　extensive　work；　with　which　perhaps　you　may　some

day　occupy　yourselves；〃　Raphael　replied。



The　great　doctor　shook　his　head；　and　so　displayed　his　satisfaction。　〃I

was　sure　of　it；〃　he　seemed　to　say　to　himself。　He　was　the　illustrious

Brisset；　the　successor　of　Cabanis　and　Bichat；　head　of　the　Organic

School；　a　doctor　popular　with　believers　in　material　and　positive

science；　who　see　in　man　a　complete　individual；　subject　solely　to　the

laws　of　his　own　particular　organization；　and　who　consider　that　his

normal　condition　and　abnormal　states　of　disease　can　both　be　traced　to

obvious　causes。



After　this　reply；　Brisset　looked；　without　speaking；　at　a　middle…sized

person；　whose　darkly　flushed　countenance