the crime of sylvestre bonnard-第29章

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that　I　see　from　my　windowthat　horizon　which　extends　to　the　left　as　far　as　the　hills　of　Chaillot；　and　enables　me　to　distinguish　the　Arc　de　Triomphe　like　a　die　of　stone；　the　Seine；　river　of　glory；　and　its　bridges；　the　ash…trees　of　the　terrace　of　the　Tuileries；　the　Louvre　of　the　Renaissance；　cut　and　graven　like　goldsmithwork；　and　on　my　right；　towards　the　Pont…Neuf　（pons　Lutetiae　Novus　dictus；　as　it　is　named　on　old　engravings）；　all　the　old　and　venerable　part　of　Paris；　with　its　towers　and　spires：all　that　is　my　life；　it　is　myself；　and　I　should　be　nothing　but　for　all　those　things　which　are　thus　reflected　in　me　through　my　thousand　varying　shades　of　thought；　inspiring　me　and　animating　me。　　That　is　why　I　love　Paris　with　an　immense　love。

And　nevertheless　I　am　weary；　and　I　know　that　there　can　be　no　rest　for　me　in　the　heart　of　this　great　city　which　thinks　so　much；　which　has　taught　me　to　think；　and　which　for　ever　urges　me　to　think　more。　And　how　avoid　being　exited　among　all　these　books　which　incessantly　tempt　my　curiosity　without　ever　satisfying　it？　　At　one　moment　it　is　a　date　I　have　to　look　for；　at　another　it　is　the　name　of　a　place　I　have　to　make　sure　of；　or　some　quaint　term　of　which　it　is　important　to　determine　the　exact　meaning。　　Words？why；　yes！　words。　　As　a　philologist；　I　am　their　sovereign；　they　aer　my　subjects；　and；　like　a　good　king；　I　devote　my　whole　life　to　them。　　But　shall　I　not　be　able　to　abdicate　some　day？　　I　have　an　idea　that　there　is　somewhere　or　other；　quite　far　from　here；　a　certain　little　cottage　where　I　could　enjoy　the　quiet　I　so　much　need；　while　awaiting　that　day　in　which　a　greater　quietthat　which　can　be　never　brokenshall　come　to　wrap　me　all　about。　　I　dream　of　a　bench　before　the　threshold；　and　of　fields　spreading　away　out　of　sight。　　But　I　must　have　a　fresh　smiling　young　face　beside　me；　to　reflect　and　concentrate　all　that　freshness　of　nature。　　I　could　then　imagine　myself　a　grandfather；　and　all　the　long　void　of　my　life　would　be　filled。。。。

I　am　not　a　violent　man；　and　yet　I　become　easily　vexed；　and　all　my　works　have　caused　me　quite　as　much　pain　as　pleasure。　　And　I　do　not　know　how　it　is　that　I　still　keep　thinking　about　that　very　conceited　and　very　inconsiderated　impertinence　which　my　young　friend　of　the　Luxembourg　took　the　liberty　to　utter　about　me　some　three　months　ago。　I　do　not　call　him　〃friend〃　in　irony；　for　I　love　studious　youth　with　all　it　temerities　and　imaginative　eccentricities。　　Still；　my　young　friend　certainly　went　beyond　all　bounds。　　Master　Ambroise　Pare；　who　was　the　first　to　attempt　the　ligature　of　arteries；　and　who；　having　commenced　his　profession　at　a　time　when　surgery　was　only　performed　by　quack　barbers；　nevertheless　succeeded　in　lifting　the　science　to　the　high　place　it　now　occupies；　was　assailed　in　his　old　age　by　all　the　young　sawbones'　apprentices。　　Being　grossly　abused　during　a　discussion　by　some　young　addlehead　who　might　have　been　the　best　son　in　the　world；　but　who　certainly　lacked　all　sense　of　respect；　the　old　master　answered　him　in　his　treatise　De　la　Mumie；　de　la　Licorne；　des　Venins　et　de　la　Peste。　　〃I　pray　him；〃　said　the　great　man〃I　pray　him；　that　if　he　desire　to　make　any　contradictions　to　my　reply；　he　abandon　all　animosities；　and　treat　the　good　old　man　with　gentleness。〃　　This　answer　seems　admirable　from　the　pen　of　Ambroise　Pare；　but　even　had　it　been　written　by　a　village　bonesetter；　grown　grey　in　his　calling；　and　mocked　by　some　young　stripling；　it　would　still　be　worthy　of　all　praise。

It　might　perhaps　seem　that　my　memory　of　the　incident　had　been　kept　alive　only　by　a　base　feeling　of　resentment。　　I　thought　so　myself　at　first；　and　reproached　myself　for　thus　dwelling　on　the　saying　of　a　boy　who　could　not　yet　know　the　meaning　of　his　own　words。　　But　my　reflections　on　this　subject　subsequently　took　a　better　course：　that　is　why　I　now　note　them　down　in　my　diary。　　I　remembered　that　one　day　when　I　was　twenty　years　old　（that　was　more　than　half　a　century　ago）　I　was　walking　about　in　that　very　same　garden　of　the　Luxembourg　with　some　comrades。　　We　were　talking　about　our　old　professors；　and　one　of　us　happened　to　name　Monsieur　Petit…Radel；　an　estimable　and　learned　man；　who　was　the　first　to　throw　some　light　upon　the　origins　of　early　Etruscan　civilisation；　but　who　had　been　unfortunate　enough　to　prepare　a　chronological　table　of　the　lovers　of　Helen。　　We　all　laughed　a　great　deal　about　that　chronological　table；　and　I　cried　out；　〃Petit…Radel　is　an　ass；　not　in　three　letters；　but　in　twelve　whole　volumes！〃

This　foolish　speech　of　my　adolescence　was　uttered　too　lightly　to　be　a　weight　on　my　conscience　as　an　old　man。　　May　God　kindly　prove　to　me　some　day　that　I　never　used　an　less　innocent　shaft　of　speech　in　the　battle　of　life！　　But　I　now　ask　myself　whether　I　really　never　wrote；　at　any　time　in　my　life；　something　quite　as　unconsciously　absurd　as　the　chronological　table　of　the　lovers　of　Helen。　　The　progress　of　science　renders　useless　the　very　books　which　have　been　the　greatest　aids　to　that　progress。　　As　those　works　are　no　longer　useful；　modern　youth　is　naturally　inclined　to　believe　they　never　had　any　value；　it　despises　them；　and　ridicules　them　if　they　happen　to　contain　any　superannuated　opinion　whatever。　　That　is　why；　in　my　twentieth　year；　I　amused　myself　at　the　expense　of　Monsieur　Petit…Radel　and　his　chronological　table；　and　that　was　why；　the　other　day；　at　the　Luxembourg；　my　young　and　irreverent　friend。。。

〃Rentre　en　toi…meme；　Octave；　et　cesse　de　te　plaindre。　　Quoi！　tu　veux　qu'on　t'epargne　et　n'as　rien　epargne！〃　＇　〃Look　into　thyself；　Octavius；　and　cease　complaining。　　What！　thou　wouldst　be　spared；　and　thou　thyself　hast　spared　none！〃＇


June　6。



It　was　the　first　Thursday　in　June。　　I　shut　up　my　books　and　took　my　leave　of　the　holy　abbot　Droctoveus；　who；　being　now　in　the　enjoyment　of　celestial　bliss；　cannot　feel　very　impatient　to　behold　his　name　and　works　glorified　on　earth　through　the　humble　compilation　being　prepared　by　my　hands。　　Must　I　confess　it？　　That　mallow…plant　I　saw　visited　by　a　bee　the　other　day　has　been　occupying　my　thoughts　much　more　than　all　the　ancient　abbots　who　ever　bore　croisers　or　wore　mitres。　　There　is　in　one　of　Sprengel's　books　which　I　read　in　my　youth；　at　that　time　when　I　used　to　read　in　my　youth；　at　that　time　when　I　used　to　read　anything　and　everything；　some　ideas　about　〃the　loves　of　flowers〃　which　now　return　to　memory　after　having　been　forgotten　for　half　a　century；　and　which　to…day　interest　me　so　much　that　I　regret　not　to　have　devoted　the　humble　capacities　of　my　mind　to　the　study　of　insects　and　of　plants。

And　only　awhile　ago　my　housekeeper　surprised　me　at　the　kitchen　window；　in　the　act　of　examining　some　wallflowers　through　a　magnifying…　glass。。。。

It　was　while　looking　for　my　cravat　that　I　made　these　reflections。　But　after　searching　to　no　purpose　in　a　great　number　of　drawers；　I　found　myself　obliged；　after　all；　to　have　recourse　to　my　housekeeper。　Therese　came　limping　in。

〃Monsieur；〃　she　said；　〃you　ought　to　have　told　me　you　were　going　out；　and　I　would　have　given　you　your　cravat！〃

〃But　Therese；〃　I　replied；　〃would　it　not　be　a　great　deal　better　to　put　in　some　place　where　I　could　find　it　without　your　help？〃

Therese　did　not　deign　to　answer　me。

Therese　no　longer　allows　me　to　arrange　anything。　　I　cannot　even　have　a　handkerchief　without　asking　her　for　it；　and　as　she　is　deaf；　crippled；　and；　what　is　worse；　beginning　to　lose　her　memory；　I　languish　in　perpetual　destitution。　　But　she　exercises　her　domestic　authority　with　such　quiet　pride　that　I　do　not　feel　the　courage　to　attempt　a　coup　d'etat　against　her　government。

〃My　cravat！　　Therese！do　you　hear？my　cravat！　if　you　drive　me　wild　like　this　with　your　slow　ways；　it　will　not　be　a　cravat　I　shall　need；　but　a　rope　to　hang　myself！〃

〃You　must　be　in　a　very　great　hurry；　Monsieur；〃　replied　Therese。　〃Your　cravat　is　not　lost。　　Nothing　is　ever　lost　in　this　house；　because　I　have　charge　of　everything。　　But　please　allow　me　the　time　at　least　to　find　it。〃

〃Yet　here；〃　I　thought　to　myself〃here　is　the　result　of　half　a　century　of　devotedness　and　self…sacrifice！。。。　　Ah！　if　by　any　happy　chance　this　inexorable　Therese　had　once　in　her　whole　life；　only　once；　failed　in　her　duty　as　a　servantif　she　had　ever　been　at　fault　for　one　single　instant；　she　could　never　have　assumed　this　inf