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第49章

the magic skin-第49章

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and white paint。 This red enamel; lacking on some portions of his

face; strongly brought out his natural feebleness and livid hues。 It

was impossible not to smile at this visage with the protuberant

forehead and pointed chin; a face not unlike those grotesque wooden

figures that German herdsmen carve in their spare moments。



An attentive observer looking from Raphael to this elderly Adonis

would have remarked a young man's eyes set in a mask of age; in the

case of the Marquis; and in the other case the dim eyes of age peering

forth from behind a mask of youth。 Valentin tried to recollect when

and where he had seen this little old man before。 He was thin;

fastidiously cravatted; booted and spurred like one…and…twenty; he

crossed his arms and clinked his spurs as if he possessed all the

wanton energy of youth。 He seemed to move about without constraint or

difficulty。 He had carefully buttoned up his fashionable coat; which

disguised his powerful; elderly frame; and gave him the appearance of

an antiquated coxcomb who still follows the fashions。



For Raphael this animated puppet possessed all the interest of an

apparition。 He gazed at it as if it had been some smoke…begrimed

Rembrandt; recently restored and newly framed。 This idea found him a

clue to the truth among his confused recollections; he recognized the

dealer in antiquities; the man to whom he owed his calamities!



A noiseless laugh broke just then from the fantastical personage;

straightening the line of his lips that stretched across a row of

artificial teeth。 That laugh brought out; for Raphael's heated fancy;

a strong resemblance between the man before him and the type of head

that painters have assigned to Goethe's Mephistopheles。 A crowd of

superstitious thoughts entered Raphael's sceptical mind; he was

convinced of the powers of the devil and of all the sorcerer's

enchantments embodied in mediaeval tradition; and since worked up by

poets。 Shrinking in horror from the destiny of Faust; he prayed for

the protection of Heaven with all the ardent faith of a dying man in

God and the Virgin。 A clear; bright radiance seemed to give him a

glimpse of the heaven of Michael Angelo or of Raphael of Urbino: a

venerable white…bearded man; a beautiful woman seated in an aureole

above the clouds and winged cherub heads。 Now he had grasped and

received the meaning of those imaginative; almost human creations;

they seemed to explain what had happened to him; to leave him yet one

hope。



But when the greenroom of the Italiens returned upon his sight he

beheld; not the Virgin; but a very handsome young person。 The

execrable Euphrasia; in all the splendor of her toilette; with its

orient pearls; had come thither; impatient for her ardent; elderly

admirer。 She was insolently exhibiting herself with her defiant face

and glittering eyes to an envious crowd of stockbrokers; a visible

testimony to the inexhaustible wealth that the old dealer permitted

her to squander。



Raphael recollected the mocking wish with which he had accepted the

old man's luckless gift; and tasted all the sweets of revenge when he

beheld the spectacle of sublime wisdom fallen to such a depth as this;

wisdom for which such humiliation had seemed a thing impossible。 The

centenarian greeted Euphrasia with a ghastly smile; receiving her

honeyed words in reply。 He offered her his emaciated arm; and went

twice or thrice round the greenroom with her; the envious glances and

compliments with which the crowd received his mistress delighted him;

he did not see the scornful smiles; nor hear the caustic comments to

which he gave rise。



〃In what cemetery did this young ghoul unearth that corpse of hers?〃

asked a dandy of the Romantic faction。



Euphrasia began to smile。 The speaker was a slender; fair…haired

youth; with bright blue eyes; and a moustache。 His short dress coat;

hat tilted over one ear; and sharp tongue; all denoted the species。



〃How many old men;〃 said Raphael to himself; 〃bring an upright;

virtuous; and hard…working life to a close in folly! His feet are cold

already; and he is making love。〃



〃Well; sir;〃 exclaimed Valentin; stopping the merchant's progress;

while he stared hard at Euphrasia; 〃have you quite forgotten the

stringent maxims of your philosophy?〃



〃Ah; I am as happy now as a young man;〃 said the other; in a cracked

voice。 〃I used to look at existence from a wrong standpoint。 One hour

of love has a whole life in it。〃



The playgoers heard the bell ring; and left the greenroom to take

their places again。 Raphael and the old merchant separated。 As he

entered his box; the Marquis saw Foedora sitting exactly opposite to

him on the other side of the theatre。 The Countess had probably only

just come; for she was just flinging off her scarf to leave her throat

uncovered; and was occupied with going through all the indescribable

manoeuvres of a coquette arranging herself。 All eyes were turned upon

her。 A young peer of France had come with her; she asked him for the

lorgnette she had given him to carry。 Raphael knew the despotism to

which his successor had resigned himself; in her gestures; and in the

way she treated her companion。 He was also under the spell no doubt;

another dupe beating with all the might of a real affection against

the woman's cold calculations; enduring all the tortures from which

Valentin had luckily freed himself。



Foedora's face lighted up with indescribable joy。 After directing her

lorgnette upon every box in turn; to make a rapid survey of all the

dresses; she was conscious that by her toilette and her beauty she had

eclipsed the loveliest and best…dressed women in Paris。 She laughed to

show her white teeth; her head with its wreath of flowers was never

still; in her quest of admiration。 Her glances went from one box to

another; as she diverted herself with the awkward way in which a

Russian princess wore her bonnet; or over the utter failure of a

bonnet with which a banker's daughter had disfigured herself。



All at once she met Raphael's steady gaze and turned pale; aghast at

the intolerable contempt in her rejected lover's eyes。 Not one of her

exiled suitors had failed to own her power over them; Valentin alone

was proof against her attractions。 A power that can be defied with

impunity is drawing to its end。 This axiom is as deeply engraved on

the heart of woman as in the minds of kings。 In Raphael; therefore;

Foedora saw the deathblow of her influence and her ability to please。

An epigram of his; made at the Opera the day before; was already known

in the salons of Paris。 The biting edge of that terrible speech had

already given the Countess an incurable wound。 We know how to

cauterize a wound; but we know of no treatment as yet for the stab of

a phrase。 As every other woman in the house looked by turns at her and

at the Marquis; Foedora would have consigned them all to the

oubliettes of some Bastille; for in spite of her capacity for

dissimulation; her discomfiture was discerned by her rivals。 Her

unfailing consolation had slipped from her at last。 The delicious

thought; 〃I am the most beautiful;〃 the thought that at all times had

soothed every mortification; had turned into a lie。



At the opening of the second act a woman took up her position not very

far from Raphael; in a box that had been empty hitherto。 A murmur of

admiration went up from the whole house。 In that sea of human faces

there was a movement of every living wave; all eyes were turned upon

the stranger lady。 The applause of young and old was so prolonged;

that when the orchestra began; the musicians turned to the audience to

request silence; and then they themselves joined in the plaudits and

swelled the confusion。 Excited talk began in every box; every woman

equipped herself with an opera glass; elderly men grew young again;

and polished the glasses of their lorgnettes with their gloves。 The

enthusiasm subsided by degrees; th

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