the magic skin-第3章

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used　to　be　taken　in　carts　from　the　Palais　de　Justice　to　the　Place　de

Greve；　where　the　scaffold　awaited　them　reddened　with　all　the　blood

spilt　here　since　1793。



There　is　something　great　and　terrible　about　suicide。　Most　people's

downfalls　are　not　dangerous；　they　are　like　children　who　have　not　far

to　fall；　and　cannot　injure　themselves；　but　when　a　great　nature　is

dashed　down；　he　is　bound　to　fall　from　a　height。　He　must　have　been

raised　almost　to　the　skies；　he　has　caught　glimpses　of　some　heaven

beyond　his　reach。　Vehement　must　the　storms　be　which　compel　a　soul　to

seek　for　peace　from　the　trigger　of　a　pistol。



How　much　young　power　starves　and　pines　away　in　a　garret　for　want　of　a

friend；　for　lack　of　a　woman's　consolation；　in　the　midst　of　millions　of

fellow…creatures；　in　the　presence　of　a　listless　crowd　that　is　burdened

by　its　wealth！　When　one　remembers　all　this；　suicide　looms　large。

Between　a　self…sought　death　and　the　abundant　hopes　whose　voices　call　a

young　man　to　Paris；　God　only　knows　what　may　intervene；　what　contending

ideas　have　striven　within　the　soul；　what　poems　have　been　set　aside；

what　moans　and　what　despair　have　been　repressed；　what　abortive

masterpieces　and　vain　endeavors！　Every　suicide　is　an　awful　poem　of

sorrow。　Where　will　you　find　a　work　of　genius　floating　above　the　seas

of　literature　that　can　compare　with　this　paragraph：



　　〃Yesterday；　at　four　o'clock；　a　young　woman　threw　herself　into　the

　　Seine　from　the　Pont　des　Arts。〃



Dramas　and　romances　pale　before　this　concise　Parisian　phrase；　so　must

even　that　old　frontispiece；　The　Lamentations　of　the　glorious　king　of

Kaernavan；　put　in　prison　by　his　children；　the　sole　remaining　fragment

of　a　lost　work　that　drew　tears　from　Sterne　at　the　bare　perusalthe

same　Sterne　who　deserted　his　own　wife　and　family。



The　stranger　was　beset　with　such　thoughts　as　these；　which　passed　in

fragments　through　his　mind；　like　tattered　flags　fluttering　above　the

combat。　If　he　set　aside　for　a　moment　the　burdens　of　consciousness　and

of　memory；　to　watch　the　flower　heads　gently　swayed　by　the　breeze　among

the　green　thickets；　a　revulsion　came　over　him；　life　struggled　against

the　oppressive　thought　of　suicide；　and　his　eyes　rose　to　the　sky：　gray

clouds；　melancholy　gusts　of　the　wind；　the　stormy　atmosphere；　all

decreed　that　he　should　die。



He　bent　his　way　toward　the　Pont　Royal；　musing　over　the　last　fancies　of

others　who　had　gone　before　him。　He　smiled　to　himself　as　he　remembered

that　Lord　Castlereagh　had　satisfied　the　humblest　of　our　needs　before

he　cut　his　throat；　and　that　the　academician　Auger　had　sought　for　his

snuff…box　as　he　went　to　his　death。　He　analyzed　these　extravagances；

and　even　examined　himself；　for　as　he　stood　aside　against　the　parapet

to　allow　a　porter　to　pass；　his　coat　had　been　whitened　somewhat　by　the

contact；　and　he　carefully　brushed　the　dust　from　his　sleeve；　to　his　own

surprise。　He　reached　the　middle　of　the　arch；　and　looked　forebodingly

at　the　water。



〃Wretched　weather　for　drowning　yourself；〃　said　a　ragged　old　woman；　who

grinned　at　him；　〃isn't　the　Seine　cold　and　dirty？〃



His　answer　was　a　ready　smile；　which　showed　the　frenzied　nature　of　his

courage；　then　he　shivered　all　at　once　as　he　saw　at　a　distance；　by　the

door　of　the　Tuileries；　a　shed　with　an　inscription　above　it　in　letters

twelve　inches　high：　THE　ROYAL　HUMANE　SOCIETY'S　APPARATUS。



A　vision　of　M。　Dacheux　rose　before　him；　equipped　by　his　philanthropy；

calling　out　and　setting　in　motion　the　too　efficacious　oars　which　break

the　heads　of　drowning　men；　if　unluckily　they　should　rise　to　the

surface；　he　saw　a　curious　crowd　collecting；　running　for　a　doctor；

preparing　fumigations；　he　read　the　maundering　paragraph　in　the　papers；

put　between　notes　on　a　festivity　and　on　the　smiles　of　a　ballet…dancer；

he　heard　the　francs　counted　down　by　the　prefect　of　police　to　the

watermen。　As　a　corpse；　he　was　worth　fifteen　francs；　but　now　while　he

lived　he　was　only　a　man　of　talent　without　patrons；　without　friends；

without　a　mattress　to　lie　on；　or　any　one　to　speak　a　word　for　hima

perfect　social　cipher；　useless　to　a　State　which　gave　itself　no　trouble

about　him。



A　death　in　broad　daylight　seemed　degrading　to　him；　he　made　up　his　mind

to　die　at　night　so　as　to　bequeath　an　unrecognizable　corpse　to　a　world

which　had　disregarded　the　greatness　of　life。　He　began　his　wanderings

again；　turning　towards　the　Quai　Voltaire；　imitating　the　lagging　gait

of　an　idler　seeking　to　kill　time。　As　he　came　down　the　steps　at　the　end

of　the　bridge；　his　notice　was　attracted　by　the　second…hand　books

displayed　on　the　parapet；　and　he　was　on　the　point　of　bargaining　for

some。　He　smiled；　thrust　his　hands　philosophically　into　his　pockets；

and　fell　to　strolling　on　again　with　a　proud　disdain　in　his　manner；

when　he　heard　to　his　surprise　some　coin　rattling　fantastically　in　his

pocket。



A　smile　of　hope　lit　his　face；　and　slid　from　his　lips　over　his

features；　over　his　brow；　and　brought　a　joyful　light　to　his　eyes　and

his　dark　cheeks。　It　was　a　spark　of　happiness　like　one　of　the　red　dots

that　flit　over　the　remains　of　a　burnt　scrap　of　paper；　but　as　it　is

with　the　black　ashes；　so　it　was　with　his　face；　it　became　dull　again

when　the　stranger　quickly　drew　out　his　hand　and　perceived　three

pennies。　〃Ah；　kind　gentleman！　carita；　carita；　for　the　love　of　St。

Catherine！　only　a　halfpenny　to　buy　some　bread！〃



A　little　chimney　sweeper；　with　puffed　cheeks；　all　black　with　soot；　and

clad　in　tatters；　held　out　his　hand　to　beg　for　the　man's　last　pence。



Two　paces　from　the　little　Savoyard　stood　an　old　pauvre　honteux；　sickly

and　feeble；　in　wretched　garments　of　ragged　druggeting；　who　asked　in　a

thick；　muffled　voice：



〃Anything　you　like　to　give；　monsieur；　I　will　pray　to　God　for

you　。　。　。〃



But　the　young　man　turned　his　eyes　on　him；　and　the　old　beggar　stopped

without　another　word；　discerning　in　that　mournful　face　an　abandonment

of　wretchedness　more　bitter　than　his　own。



〃La　carita！　la　carita！〃



The　stranger　threw　the　coins　to　the　old　man　and　the　child；　left　the

footway；　and　turned　towards　the　houses；　the　harrowing　sight　of　the

Seine　fretted　him　beyond　endurance。



〃May　God　lengthen　your　days！〃　cried　the　two　beggars。



As　he　reached　the　shop　window　of　a　print…seller；　this　man　on　the　brink

of　death　met　a　young　woman　alighting　from　a　showy　carriage。　He　looked

in　delight　at　her　prettiness；　at　the　pale　face　appropriately　framed　by

the　satin　of　her　fashionable　bonnet。　Her　slender　form　and　graceful

movements　entranced　him。　Her　skirt　had　been　slightly　raised　as　she

stepped　to　the　pavement；　disclosing　a　daintily　fitting　white　stocking

over　the　delicate　outlines　beneath。　The　young　lady　went　into　the　shop；

purchased　albums　and　sets　of　lithographs；　giving　several　gold　coins

for　them；　which　glittered　and　rang　upon　the　counter。　The　young　man；

seemingly　occupied　with　the　prints　in　the　window；　fixed　upon　the　fair

stranger　a　gaze　as　eager　as　man　can　give；　to　receive　in　exchange　an

indifferent　glance；　such　as　lights　by　accident　on　a　passer…by。　For　him

it　was　a　leave…taking　of　love　and　of　woman；　but　his　final　and

strenuous　questioning　glance　was　neither　understood　nor　felt　by　the

slight…natured　woman　there；　her　color　did　not　rise；　her　eyes　did　not

droop。　What　was　it　to　her？　one　more　piece　of　adulation；　yet　another

sigh　only　prompted　the　delightful　thought　at　night；　〃I　looked　rather

well　to…day。〃



The　young　man　quickly　turned　to　another　picture；　and　only　left　it　when

she　returned　to　her　carriage。　The　horses　started　off；　the　final　vision

of　luxury　and　refinement　went　under　an　eclipse；　just　as　that　life　of

his　would　soon　do　also。　Slowly　and　sadly　he　followed　the　line　of　the

shops；　listlessly　examining　the　specimens　on　view。　When　the　shops　came

to　an　end；　he　reviewed　the　Louvre；　the　Institute；　the　towers　of　Notre

Dame；　of　the　Palais；　the　Pont　des　Arts；　all　these　public　monuments

seemed　to　have　taken　their　tone　from　the　heavy　gray　sky。



Fitful　gleams　of　ligh