the magic skin(驴皮记)-第33章

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all　my　time；　and　exerted　every　effort　and　all　my　powers　of
observation；　to　penetrate　the　impenetrable　character　of　Foedora。
Alternate　hope　and　despair　had　swayed　my　opinions；　for　me　she　was
sometimes　the　tenderest；　sometimes　the　most　unfeeling　of　women。　But
these　transitions　from　joy　to　sadness　became　unendurable；　I　sought　to
end　the　horrible　conflict　within　me　by　extinguishing　love。　By　the
light　of　warning　gleams　my　soul　sometimes　recognized　the　gulfs　that
lay　between　us。　The　countess　confirmed　all　my　fears；　I　had　never　yet
detected　any　tear　in　her　eyes；　an　affecting　scene　in　a　play　left　her
smiling　and　unmoved。　All　her　instincts　were　selfish；　she　could　not
divine　another's　joy　or　sorrow。　She　had　made　a　fool　of　me；　in　fact！

〃I　had　rejoiced　over　a　sacrifice　to　make　for　her；　and　almost
humiliated　myself　in　seeking　out　my　kinsman；　the　Duc　de　Navarreins；　a
selfish　man　who　was　ashamed　of　my　poverty；　and　had　injured　me　too
deeply　not　to　hate　me。　He　received　me　with　the　polite　coldness　that
makes　every　word　and　gesture　seem　an　insult；　he　looked　so　ill　at　ease
that　I　pitied　him。　I　blushed　for　this　pettiness　amid　grandeur；　and
penuriousness　surrounded　by　luxury。　He　began　to　talk　to　me　of　his
heavy　losses　in　the　three　per　cents；　and　then　I　told　him　the　object　of
my　visit。　The　change　in　his　manners；　hitherto　glacial；　which　now
gradually；　became　affectionate；　disgusted　me。

〃Well；　he　called　upon　the　countess；　and　completely　eclipsed　me　with
her。

〃On　him　Foedora　exercised　spells　and　witcheries　unheard　of；　she　drew
him　into　her　power；　and　arranged　her　whole　mysterious　business　with
him；　I　was　left　out；　I　heard　not　a　word　of　it；　she　had　made　a　tool　of
me！　She　did　not　seem　to　be　aware　of　my　existence　while　my　cousin　was
present；　she　received　me　less　cordially　perhaps　than　when　I　was　first
presented　to　her。　One　evening　she　chose　to　mortify　me　before　the　duke
by　a　look；　a　gesture；　that　it　is　useless　to　try　to　express　in　words。　I
went　away　with　tears　in　my　eyes；　planning　terrible　and　outrageous
schemes　of　vengeance　without　end。

〃I　often　used　to　go　with　her　to　the　theatre。　Love　utterly　absorbed　me
as　I　sat　beside　her；　as　I　looked　at　her　I　used　to　give　myself　up　to
the　pleasure　of　listening　to　the　music；　putting　all　my　soul　into　the
double　joy　of　love　and　of　hearing　every　emotion　of　my　heart　translated
into　musical　cadences。　It　was　my　passion　that　filled　the　air　and　the
stage；　that　was　triumphant　everywhere　but　with　my　mistress。　Then　I
would　take　Foedora's　hand。　I　used　to　scan　her　features　and　her　eyes；
imploring　of　them　some　indication　that　one　blended　feeling　possessed
us　both；　seeking　for　the　sudden　harmony　awakened　by　the　power　of
music；　which　makes　our　souls　vibrate　in　unison；　but　her　hand　was
passive；　her　eyes　said　nothing。

〃When　the　fire　that　burned　in　me　glowed　too　fiercely　from　the　face　I
turned　upon　her；　she　met　it　with　that　studied　smile　of　hers；　the
conventional　expression　that　sits　on　the　lips　of　every　portrait　in
every　exhibition。　She　was　not　listening　to　the　music。　The　divine　pages
of　Rossini；　Cimarosa；　or　Zingarelli　called　up　no　emotion；　gave　no
voice　to　any　poetry　in　her　life；　her　soul　was　a　desert。

〃Foedora　presented　herself　as　a　drama　before　a　drama。　Her　lorgnette
traveled　restlessly　over　the　boxes；　she　was　restless　too　beneath　the
apparent　calm；　fashion　tyrannized　over　her；　her　box；　her　bonnet；　her
carriage；　her　own　personality　absorbed　her　entirely。　My　merciless
knowledge　thoroughly　tore　away　all　my　illusions。　If　good　breeding
consists　in　self…forgetfulness　and　consideration　for　others；　in
constantly　showing　gentleness　in　voice　and　bearing；　in　pleasing
others；　and　in　making　them　content　in　themselves；　all　traces　of　her
plebeian　origin　were　not　yet　obliterated　in　Foedora；　in　spite　of　her
cleverness。　Her　self…forgetfulness　was　a　sham；　her　manners　were　not
innate　but　painfully　acquired；　her　politeness　was　rather　subservient。
And　yet　for　those　she　singled　out；　her　honeyed　words　expressed　natural
kindness；　her　pretentious　exaggeration　was　exalted　enthusiasm。　I　alone
had　scrutinized　her　grimacings；　and　stripped　away　the　thin　rind　that
sufficed　to　conceal　her　real　nature　from　the　world；　her　trickery　no
longer　deceived　me；　I　had　sounded　the　depths　of　that　feline　nature。　I
blushed　for　her　when　some　donkey　or　other　flattered　and　complimented
her。　And　yet　I　loved　her　through　it　all！　I　hoped　that　her　snows　would
melt　with　the　warmth　of　a　poet's　love。　If　I　could　only　have　made　her
feel　all　the　greatness　that　lies　in　devotion；　then　I　should　have　seen
her　perfected；　she　would　have　been　an　angel。　I　loved　her　as　a　man；　a
lover；　and　an　artist；　if　it　had　been　necessary　not　to　love　her　so　that
I　might　win　her；　some　cool…headed　coxcomb；　some　self…possessed
calculator　would　perhaps　have　had　an　advantage　over　me。　She　was　so
vain　and　sophisticated；　that　the　language　of　vanity　would　appeal　to
her；　she　would　have　allowed　herself　to　be　taken　in　the　toils　of　an
intrigue；　a　hard；　cold　nature　would　have　gained　a　complete　ascendency
over　her。　Keen　grief　had　pierced　me　to　my　very　soul；　as　she
unconsciously　revealed　her　absolute　love　of　self。　I　seemed　to　see　her
as　she　one　day　would　be；　alone　in　the　world；　with　no　one　to　whom　she
could　stretch　her　hand；　with　no　friendly　eyes　for　her　own　to　meet　and
rest　upon。　I　was　bold　enough　to　set　this　before　her　one　evening；　I
painted　in　vivid　colors　her　lonely；　sad；　deserted　old　age。　Her　comment
on　this　prospect　of　so　terrible　a　revenge　of　thwarted　nature　was
horrible。

〃　'I　shall　always　have　money；'　she　said；　'and　with　money　we　can　always
inspire　such　sentiments　as　are　necessary　for　our　comfort　in　those
about　us。'

〃I　went　away　confounded　by　the　arguments　of　luxury；　by　the　reasoning
of　this　woman　of　the　world　in　which　she　lived；　and　blamed　myself　for
my　infatuated　idolatry。　I　myself　had　not　loved　Pauline　because　she　was
poor；　and　had　not　the　wealthy　Foedora　a　right　to　repulse　Raphael？
Conscience　is　our　unerring　judge　until　we　finally　stifle　it。　A
specious　voice　said　within　me；　'Foedora　is　neither　attracted　to　nor
repulses　any　one；　she　has　her　liberty；　but　once　upon　a　time　she　sold
herself　to　the　Russian　count；　her　husband　or　her　lover；　for　gold。　But
temptation　is　certain　to　enter　into　her　life。　Wait　till　that　moment
comes！'　She　lived　remote　from　humanity；　in　a　sphere　apart；　in　a　hell
or　a　heaven　of　her　own；　she　was　neither　frail　nor　virtuous。　This
feminine　enigma　in　embroideries　and　cashmeres　had　brought　into　play
every　emotion　of　the　human　heart　in　mepride；　ambition；　love；
curiosity。

〃There　was　a　craze　just　then　for　praising　a　play　at　a　little　Boulevard
theatre；　prompted　perhaps　by　a　wish　to　appear　original　that　besets　us
all；　or　due　to　some　freak　of　fashion。　The　countess　showed　some　signs
of　a　wish　to　see　the　floured　face　of　the　actor　who　had　so　delighted
several　people　of　taste；　and　I　obtained　the　honor　of　taking　her　to　a
first　presentation　of　some　wretched　farce　or　other。　A　box　scarcely
cost　five　francs；　but　I　had　not　a　brass　farthing。　I　was　but　half…way
through　the　volume　of　Memoirs；　I　dared　not　beg　for　assistance　of
Finot；　and　Rastignac；　my　providence；　was　away。　These　constant
perplexities　were　the　bane　of　my　life。

〃We　had　once　come　out　of　the　theatre　when　it　was　raining　heavily；
Foedora　had　called　a　cab　for　me　before　I　could　escape　from　her　show　of
concern；　she　would　not　admit　any　of　my　excusesmy　liking　for　wet
weather；　and　my　wish　to　go　to　the　gaming…table。　She　did　not　read　my
poverty　in　my　embarrassed　attitude；　or　in　my　forced　jests。　My　eyes
would　redden；　but　she　did　not　understand　a　look。　A　young　man's　life　is
at　the　mercy　of　the　strangest　whims！　At　every　revolution　of　the　wheels
during　the　journey；　thoughts　that　burned　stirred　in　my　heart。　I　tried
to　pull　up　a　plank　from　the　bottom　of　the　vehicle；　hoping　to　slip
through　the　hole　into　the　street；　but　finding　insuperable　obstacles；　I
burst　into　a　fit　of　laughter；　and　then　sat　stupefied　in　calm
dejection；　like　a　man　in　a　pillory。　When　I　reached　my　lodging；　Pauline
broke　in　through　my　first　stammering　words　with：

〃　'If　you　haven't　any　money？'

〃Ah；　the　music　of　Rossini　was　as　nothing　compared　with　those　words。
But　to　return　to