ferragus-第9章
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beggary they have no compunctions； and circle prudently around the
scaffold without mounting it； innocent in the midst of crime； and
vicious in their innocence。 They often cause a laugh； but they always
cause reflection。 One represents to you civilization stunted；
repressed； he comprehends everything； the honor of the galleys；
patriotism； virtue； the malice of a vulgar crime； or the fine
astuteness of elegant wickedness。 Another is resigned； a perfect
mimer； but stupid。 All have slight yearnings after order and work； but
they are pushed back into their mire by society； which makes no
inquiry as to what there may be of great men； poets； intrepid souls；
and splendid organizations among these vagrants； these gypsies of
Paris； a people eminently good and eminently evillike all the masses
who sufferaccustomed to endure unspeakable woes； and whom a fatal
power holds ever down to the level of the mire。 They all have a dream；
a hope； a happiness；cards； lottery； or wine。
There was nothing of all this in the personage who now leaned
carelessly against the wall in front of Monsieur de Maulincour； like
some fantastic idea drawn by an artist on the back of a canvas the
front of which is turned to the wall。 This tall； spare man； whose
leaden visage expressed some deep but chilling thought； dried up all
pity in the hearts of those who looked at him by the scowling look and
the sarcastic attitude which announced an intention of treating every
man as an equal。 His face was of a dirty white； and his wrinkled
skull； denuded of hair； bore a vague resemblance to a block of
granite。 A few gray locks on either side of his head fell straight to
the collar of his greasy coat； which was buttoned to the chin。 He
resembled both Voltaire and Don Quixote； he was； apparently； scoffing
but melancholy； full of disdain and philosophy； but half…crazy。 He
seemed to have no shirt。 His beard was long。 A rusty black cravat；
much worn and ragged； exposed a protuberant neck deeply furrowed； with
veins as thick as cords。 A large brown circle like a bruise was
strongly marked beneath his eyes； He seemed to be at least sixty years
old。 His hands were white and clean。 His boots were trodden down at
the heels； and full of holes。 A pair of blue trousers； mended in
various places； were covered with a species of fluff which made them
offensive to the eye。 Whether it was that his damp clothes exhaled a
fetid odor； or that he had in his normal condition the 〃poor smell〃
which belongs to Parisian tenements； just as offices； sacristies； and
hospitals have their own peculiar and rancid fetidness； of which no
words can give the least idea； or whether some other reason affected
them； those in the vicinity of this man immediately moved away and
left him alone。 He cast upon them and also upon the officer a calm；
expressionless look； the celebrated look of Monsieur de Talleyrand； a
dull； wan glance； without warmth； a species of impenetrable veil；
beneath which a strong soul hides profound emotions and close
estimation of men and things and events。 Not a fold of his face
quivered。 His mouth and forehead were impassible； but his eyes moved
and lowered themselves with a noble； almost tragic slowness。 There
was； in fact； a whole drama in the motion of those withered eyelids。
The aspect of this stoical figure gave rise in Monsieur de Maulincour
to one of those vagabond reveries which begin with a common question
and end by comprising a world of thought。 The storm was past。 Monsieur
de Maulincour presently saw no more of the man than the tail of his
coat as it brushed the gate…post； but as he turned to leave his own
place he noticed at his feet a letter which must have fallen from the
unknown beggar when he took； as the baron had seen him take； a
handkerchief from his pocket。 The young man picked it up； and read；
involuntarily； the address： 〃To Monsieur Ferragusse； Rue des Grands…
Augustains； corner of rue Soly。〃
The letter bore no postmark； and the address prevented Monsieur de
Maulincour from following the beggar and returning it； for there are
few passions that will not fail in rectitude in the long run。 The
baron had a presentiment of the opportunity afforded by this windfall。
He determined to keep the letter； which would give him the right to
enter the mysterious house to return it to the strange man； not
doubting that he lived there。 Suspicions； vague as the first faint
gleams of daylight； made him fancy relations between this man and
Madame Jules。 A jealous lover supposes everything； and it is by
supposing everything and selecting the most probable of their
conjectures that judges； spies； lovers； and observers get at the truth
they are looking for。
〃Is the letter for him？ Is it from Madame Jules？〃
His restless imagination tossed a thousand such questions to him； but
when he read the first words of the letter he smiled。 Here it is；
textually； in all the simplicity of its artless phrases and its
miserable orthography；a letter to which it would be impossible to
add anything； or to take anything away； unless it were the letter
itself。 But we have yielded to the necessity of punctuating it。 In the
original there were neither commas nor stops of any kind； not even
notes of exclamation；a fact which tends to undervalue the system of
notes and dashes by which modern authors have endeavored to depict the
great disasters of all the passions：
Henry；Among the manny sacrifisis I imposed upon myself for your
sake was that of not giving you anny news of me； but an
iresistible voise now compells me to let you know the wrong you
have done me。 I know beforehand that your soul hardened in vise
will not pitty me。 Your heart is deaf to feeling。 Is it deaf to
the cries of nature？ But what matter？ I must tell you to what a
dredful point you are gilty； and the horror of the position to
which you have brought me。 Henry； you knew what I sufered from my
first wrong…doing； and yet you plunged me into the same misery；
and then abbandoned me to my dispair and sufering。 Yes； I will say
it； the belif I had that you loved me and esteemed me gave me
corage to bare my fate。 But now； what have I left？ Have you not
made me loose all that was dear to me； all that held me to life；
parents； frends； onor； reputation；all； I have sacrifised all to
you； and nothing is left me but shame； oprobrum； andI say this
without blushingpoverty。 Nothing was wanting to my misfortunes
but the sertainty of your contempt and hatred； and now I have them
I find the corage that my project requires。 My decision is made；
the onor of my famly commands it。 I must put an end to my
suferins。 Make no remarks upon my conduct； Henry； it is orful； I
know； but my condition obliges me。 Without help； without suport；
without one frend to comfort me； can I live？ No。 Fate has desided
for me。 So in two days； Henry； two days； Ida will have seased to
be worthy of your regard。 Oh； Henry！ oh； my frend！ for I can never
change to you； promise me to forgive me for what I am going to do。
Do not forget that you have driven me to it； it is your work； and
you must judge it。 May heven not punish you for all your crimes。 I
ask your pardon on my knees； for I feel nothing is wanting to my
misery but the sorow of knowing you unhappy。 In spite of the
poverty I am in I shall refuse all help from you。 If you had loved
me I would have taken all from your friendship； but a benfit given
by pitty /my soul refussis/。 I would be baser to take it than he
who offered it。 I have one favor to ask of you。 I don't know how
long I must stay at Madame Meynardie's； be genrous enough not to
come there。 Your last two vissits did me a harm I cannot get ofer。
I cannot enter into particlers about that conduct of yours。 You
hate me；you said so； that word is writen on my heart； and
freeses it with fear。 Alas！ it is now； when I need all my corage；
all my strength； that my faculties abandon me。 Henry； my frend；
before I put a barrier forever between us； give me a last pruf of
your esteem。 Write me； answer me； say you respect me still； though
you have seased to love me。 My eyes are worthy still to
