camille (la dame aux camilias)(卡米勒)-第4章
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and that these visits were often prolonged till the following day。 On being
questioned； Marguerite admitted everything to the duke； and advised him；
without arriere…pensee； to concern himself with her no longer； for she felt
incapable of carrying out what she had undertaken； and she did not wish to
go on accepting benefits from a man whom she was deceiving。 The duke
did not return for a week； it was all he could do； and on the eighth day he
came to beg Marguerite to let him still visit her； promising that he would
take her as she was； so long as he might see her； and swearing that he
would never utter a reproach against her； not though he were to die of it。
This； then； was the state of things three months after Marguerite's
return； that is to say； in November or December； 1842。
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CAMILLE （LA DAME AUX CAMILIAS）
CHAPTER 3
At one o'clock on the 16th I went to the Rue d'Antin。 The voice of the
auctioneer could be heard from the outer door。 The rooms were crowded
with people。 There were all the celebrities of the most elegant impropriety；
furtively examined by certain great ladies who had again seized the
opportunity of the sale in order to be able to see； close at hand； women
whom they might never have another occasion of meeting； and whom they
envied perhaps in secret for their easy pleasures。 The Duchess of F。
elbowed Mlle。 A。； one of the most melancholy examples of our modern
courtesan； the Marquis de T。 hesitated over a piece of furniture the price of
which was being run high by Mme。 D。； the most elegant and famous
adulteress of our time； the Duke of Y。； who in Madrid is supposed to be
ruining himself in Paris； and in Paris to be ruining himself in Madrid； and
who； as a matter of fact； never even reaches the limit of his income； talked
with Mme。 M。； one of our wittiest story…tellers； who from time to time
writes what she says and signs what she writes； while at the same time he
exchanged confidential glances with Mme。 de N。； a fair ornament of the
Champs…Elysees； almost always dressed in pink or blue； and driving two
big black horses which Tony had sold her for 10；000 francs； and for which
she had paid； after her fashion； finally； Mlle。 R。； who makes by her mere
talent twice what the women of the world make by their dot and three
times as much as the others make by their amours； had come； in spite of
the cold； to make some purchases； and was not the least looked at among
the crowd。
We might cite the initials of many more of those who found
themselves； not without some mutual surprise； side by side in one room。
But we fear to weary the reader。 We will only add that everyone was in the
highest spirits； and that many of those present had known the dead woman；
and seemed quite oblivious of the fact。 There was a sound of loud laughter；
the auctioneers shouted at the top of their voices； the dealers who had
filled the benches in front of the auction table tried in vain to obtain
silence； in order to transact their business in peace。 Never was there a
noisier or a more varied gathering。
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CAMILLE （LA DAME AUX CAMILIAS）
I slipped quietly into the midst of this tumult； sad to think of when one
remembered that the poor creature whose goods were being sold to pay
her debts had died in the next room。 Having come rather to examine than
to buy； I watched the faces of the auctioneers； noticing how they beamed
with delight whenever anything reached a price beyond their expectations。
Honest creatures； who had speculated upon this woman's prostitution； who
had gained their hundred per cent out of her； who had plagued with their
writs the last moments of her life； and who came now after her death to
gather in at once the fruits of their dishonourable calculations and the
interest on their shameful credit； How wise were the ancients in having
only one God for traders and robbers！
Dresses； cashmeres； jewels； were sold with incredible rapidity。 There
was nothing that I cared for； and I still waited。 All at once I heard： 〃A
volume； beautifully bound； gilt…edged； entitled Manon Lescaut。 There is
something written on the first page。 Ten francs。〃
〃Twelve；〃 said a voice after a longish silence。
〃Fifteen；〃 I said。
Why？ I did not know。 Doubtless for the something written。
〃Fifteen；〃 repeated the auctioneer。
〃Thirty；〃 said the first bidder in a tone which seemed to defy further
competition。
It had now become a struggle。 〃Thirty…five；〃 I cried in the same tone。
〃Forty。〃
〃Fifty。〃
〃Sixty。〃
〃A hundred。〃
If I had wished to make a sensation I should certainly have succeeded；
for a profound silence had ensued； and people gazed at me as if to see
what sort of a person it was； who seemed to be so determined to possess
the volume。
The accent which I had given to my last word seemed to convince my
adversary； he preferred to abandon a conflict which could only have
resulted in making me pay ten times its price for the volume； and； bowing；
he said very gracefully； though indeed a little late：
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CAMILLE （LA DAME AUX CAMILIAS）
〃I give way； sir。〃
Nothing more being offered； the book was assigned to me。
As I was afraid of some new fit of obstinacy； which my amour propre
might have sustained somewhat better than my purse； I wrote down my
name； had the book put on one side； and went out。 I must have given
considerable food for reflection to the witnesses of this scene； who would
nodoubt ask themselves what my purpose could have been in paying a
hundred francs for a book which I could have had anywhere for ten； or； at
the outside； fifteen。 An hour after； I sent for my purchase。 On the first
page was written in ink； in an elegant hand； an inscription on the part of
the giver。 It consisted of these words：
Manon to Marguerite。
Humility。
It was signed Armand Duval。
What was the meaning of the word Humility？ Was Manon to recognise
in Marguerite； in the opinion of M。 Armand Duval； her superior in vice or
in affection？ The second interpretation seemed the more probable； for the
first would have been an impertinent piece of plain speaking which
Marguerite； whatever her opinion of herself； would never have accepted。
I went out again； and thought no more of the book until at night； when
I was going to bed。
Manon Lescaut is a touching story。 I know every detail of it； and yet
whenever I come across the volume the same sympathy always draws me
to it； I open it； and for the hundredth time I live over again with the
heroine of the Abbe Prevost。 Now this heroine is so true to life that I feel
as if I had known her； and thus the sort of comparison between her and
Marguerite gave me an unusual inclination to read it； and my indulgence
passed into pity； almost into a kind of love for the poor girl to whom I
owed the volume。 Manon died in the desert； it is true； but in the arms of
the man who loved he
