a personal record-第29部分

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！





〃the　little　friend　of　Baptistin〃　had　the　hooded　cloak　of　the



Mediterranean　sailor　thrown　over　him　by　their　honest　hands　while



dodging　at　night　under　the　lee　of　Chateau　daft　on　the　watch　for



the　lights　of　ships。　　Their　sea　tanned　faces；　whiskered　or



shaved；　lean　or　full；　with　the　intent；　wrinkled　sea　eyes　of　the



pilot　breed；　and　here　and　there　a　thin　gold　hoop　at　the　lobe　of　a



hairy　ear；　bent　over　my　sea　infancy。　　The　first　operation　of



seamanship　I　had　an　opportunity　of　observing　was　the　boarding　of



ships　at　sea；　at　all　times；　in　all　states　of　the　weather。　　They



gave　it　to　me　to　the　full。　　And　I　have　been　invited　to　sit　in



more　than　one　tall；　dark　house　of　the　old　town　at　their



hospitable　board；　had　the　bouillabaisse　ladled　out　into　a　thick



plate　by　their　high…voiced；　broad…browed　wives；　talked　to　their



daughtersthick…set　girls；　with　pure　profiles；　glorious　masses



of　black　hair　arranged　with　complicated　art；　dark　eyes；　and



dazzlingly　white　teeth。







I　had　also　other　acquaintances　of　quite　a　different　sort。　　One　of



them；　Madame　Delestang；　an　imperious；　handsome　lady　in　a



statuesque　style；　would　carry　me　off　now　and　then　on　the　front



seat　of　her　carriage　to　the　Prado；　at　the　hour　of　fashionable



airing。　　She　belonged　to　one　of　the　old　aristocratic　families　in



the　south。　　In　her　haughty　weariness　she　used　to　make　me　think　of



Lady　Dedlock　in　Dickens's　〃Bleak　House；〃　a　work　of　the　master　for



which　I　have　such　an　admiration；　or　rather　such　an　intense　and



unreasoning　affection；　dating　from　the　days　of　my　childhood；　that



its　very　weaknesses　are　more　precious　to　me　than　the　strength　of



other　men's　work。　　I　have　read　it　innumerable　times；　both　in



Polish　and　in　English；　I　have　read　it　only　the　other　day；　and；　by



a　not　very　surprising　inversion；　the　Lady　Dedlock　of　the　book



reminded　me　strongly　of　the　〃belle　Madame　Delestang。〃







Her　husband　（as　I　sat　facing　them　both）；　with　his　thin；　bony　nose



and　a　perfectly　bloodless；　narrow　physiognomy　clamped　together；



as　it　were；　by　short；　formal　side　whiskers；　had　nothing　of　Sir



Leicester　Dedlock's　〃grand　air〃　and　courtly　solemnity。　　He



belonged　to　the　haute　bourgeoisie　only；　and　was　a　banker；　with



whom　a　modest　credit　had　been　opened　for　my　needs。　　He　was　such



an　ardentno；　such　a　frozen…up；　mummified　Royalist　that　he　used



in　current　conversation　turns　of　speech　contemporary；　I　should



say；　with　the　good　Henri　Quatre；　and　when　talking　of　money



matters；　reckoned　not　in　francs；　like　the　common；　godless　herd　of



post…Revolutionary　Frenchmen；　but　in　obsolete　and　forgotten



ecusecus　of　all　money　units　in　the　world！as　though　Louis



Quatorze　were　still　promenading　in　royal　splendour　the　gardens　of



Versailles；　and　Monsieur　de　Colbert　busy　with　the　direction　of



maritime　affairs。　　You　must　admit　that　in　a　banker　of　the



nineteenth　century　it　was　a　quaint　idiosyncrasy。　　Luckily；　in　the



counting…house　（it　occupied　part　of　the　ground　floor　of　the



Delestang　town　residence；　in　a　silent；　shady　street）　the　accounts



were　kept　in　modern　money；　so　that　I　never　had　any　difficulty　in



making　my　wants　known　to　the　grave；　low…voiced；　decorous；



Legitimist　（I　suppose）　clerks；　sitting　in　the　perpetual　gloom　of



heavily　barred　windows　behind　the　sombre；　ancient　counters；



beneath　lofty　ceilings　with　heavily　molded　cornices。　　I　always



felt；　on　going　out；　as　though　I　had　been　in　the　temple　of　some



very　dignified　but　completely　temporal　religion。　　And　it　was



generally　on　these　occasions　that　under　the　great　carriage



gateway　Lady　DedI　mean　Madame　Delestangcatching　sight　of　my



raised　hat；　would　beckon　me　with　an　amiable　imperiousness　to　the



side　of　the　carriage；　and　suggest　with　an　air　of　amused



nonchalance；　〃Venez　donc　faire　un　tour　avec　nous；〃　to　which　the



husband　would　add　an　encouraging　〃C'est　ca。　　Allons；　montez；



jeune　homme。〃　　He　questioned　me　some　times；　significantly　but



with　perfect　tact　and　delicacy；　as　to　the　way　I　employed　my　time；



and　never　failed　to　express　the　hope　that　I　wrote　regularly　to　my



〃honoured　uncle。〃　　I　made　no　secret　of　the　way　I　employed　my



time；　and　I　rather　fancy　that　my　artless　tales　of　the　pilots　and



so　on　entertained　Madame　Delestang　so　far　as　that　ineffable　woman



could　be　entertained　by　the　prattle　of　a　youngster　very　full　of



his　new　experience　among　strange　men　and　strange　sensations。　　She



expressed　no　opinions；　and　talked　to　me　very　little；　yet　her



portrait　hangs　in　the　gallery　of　my　intimate　memories；　fixed



there　by　a　short　and　fleeting　episode。　　One　day；　after　putting　me



down　at　the　corner　of　a　street；　she　offered　me　her　hand；　and



detained　me；　by　a　slight　pressure；　for　a　moment。　　While　the



husband　sat　motionless　and　looking　straight　before　him；　she



leaned　forward　in　the　carriage　to　say；　with　just　a　shade　of



warning　in　her　leisurely　tone：　〃Il　faut；　cependant；　faire



attention　a　ne　pas　gater　sa　vie。〃　　I　had　never　seen　her　face　so



close　to　mine　before。　　She　made　my　heart　beat　and　caused　me　to



remain　thoughtful　for　a　whole　evening。　　Certainly　one　must；　after



all；　take　care　not　to　spoil　one's　life。　　But　she　did　not　know



nobody　could　knowhow　impossible　that　danger　seemed　to　me。











VII







Can　the　transports　of　first　love　be　calmed；　checked；　turned　to　a



cold　suspicion　of　the　future　by　a　grave　quotation　from　a　work　on



political　economy？　　I　askis　it　conceivable？　　Is　it　possible？　



Would　it　be　right？　　With　my　feet　on　the　very　shores　of　the　sea



and　about　to　embrace　my　blue…eyed　dream；　what　could　a



good…natured　warning　as　to　spoiling　one's　life　mean　to　my



youthful　passion？　　It　was　the　most　unexpected　and　the　last；　too；



of　the　many　warnings　I　had　received。　It　sounded　to　me　very



bizarreand；　uttered　as　it　was　in　the　very　presence　of　my



enchantress；　like　the　voice　of　folly；　the　voice　of　ignorance。　



But　I　was　not　so　callous　or　so　stupid　as　not　to　recognize　there



also　the　voice　of　kindness。　　And　then　the　vagueness　of　the



warningbecause　what　can　be　the　meaning　of　the　phrase：　to　spoil



one's　life？arrested　one's　attention　by　its　air　of　wise



profundity。　　At　any　rate；　as　I　have　said　before；　the　words　of　la



belle　Madame　Delestang　made　me　thoughtful　for　a　whole　evening。　　I



tried　to　understand　and　tried　in　vain；　not　having　any　notion　of



life　as　an　enterprise　that　could　be　mi　managed。　　But　I　left　off



being　thoughtful　shortly　before　midnight；　at　which　hour；　haunted



by　no　ghosts　of　the　past　and　by　no　visions　of　the　future；　I



walked　down　the　quay　of　the　Vieux　Port　to　join　the　pilot…boat　of



my　friends。　　I　knew　where　she　would　be　waiting　for　her　crew；　in



the　little　bit　of　a　canal　behind　the　fort　at　the　entrance　of　the



harbour。　　The　deserted　quays　looked　very　white　and　dry　in　the



moonlight；　and　as　if　frostbound　in　the　sharp　air　of　that　December



night。　　A　prowler　or　two　slunk　by　noiselessly；　a　custom…house



guard；　soldier…like；　a　sword　by　his　side；　paced　close　under　the



bowsprits　of　the　long　row　of　ships　moored　bows　on　opposite　the



long；　slightly　curved；　continuous　flat　wall　of　the　tall　houses



that　seemed　to　be　one　immense　abandoned　building　with　innumerable



windows　shuttered　closely。　　Only　here　and　there　a　small；　dingy



cafe　for　sailors　cast　a　yellow　gleam　on　the　bluish　sheen　of　the



flagstones。　　Passing　by；　one　heard　a　deep　murmur　of　voices



insidenothing　more。　　How　quiet　everything　was　at　the　end　of　the



quays　on　the　last　night　on　which　I　went　out　for　a　service　cruise



as　a　guest　of　the　Marseilles　pilots！　　Not　a　footstep；　except　my



own；　not　a　sigh；　not　a　whispering　echo　of　the　usual　revelry　going



on　in　the　narrow；　unspeakable　lanes　of　the　Old　Town　reached　my



earand　suddenly；　with　a　terrific　jingling　rattle　of　iron　and



glass；　the　omnibus　of　the　Jolliette　on　its　last　journey　swung



around　the　corner　of　the　dead　wall　which　faces　across　the　paved



road　the　characteristic　angular　mass　of　the　Fort　St。　Jean。　Three



horses　trotted　abreast；　with　the　clatter　of　hoofs　on　the　granite



setts；　and　the　yellow；　uproarious　machine　jolted　violently　behind



them；　fantastic；　lighted　up；　perfectly　empty；　and　with　the　driver



apparently　asleep　on　his　swaying　perch　above　that　amazing　racket。



I　flattened　myself　against　the　wall　and　gasped。　It　was　a　stunning



experience。　　Then　after　staggering　on　a　few　paces　in　the　shadow



of　the　fort；　casting　a　darkness　more　intense　than　that　of　a



clouded　night　upon　the　canal；　I　saw　the　tiny　light　of　a　lantern



standing　on　the　quay；　and　became　aware　of　muffled　figures　making



toward　it　from　various　di