the crime of sylvestre bonnard-第5章

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　CI…GIT　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　UN　BRIGAND　DE　LA　LOIRE

〃Therese；　we　will　get　a　wreath　of　immortelles　to…morrow；　and　lay　them　on　the　tomb　of　the　Brigand　of　the　Loire。〃　。。。

But　Therese　is　not　here。　　And　how；　indeed；　could　she　be　near　me；　seeing　that　I　am　at　the　rondpoint　of　the　Champs…Elysees？　　There；　at　the　termination　of　the　avenue；　the　Arc　de　Triomphe；　which　bears　under　its　vaults　the　names　of　Uncle　Victor's　companions…in…arms；　opens　its　giant　gate　against　the　sky。　　The　trees　of　the　avenue　are　unfolding　to　the　sun　of　spring　their　first　leaves；　still　all　pale　and　chilly。　　Beside　me　the　carriages　keep　rolling　by　to　the　Bois　de　Boulogne。　　Unconsciously　I　have　wandered　into　this　fashionable　avenue　on　my　promenade；　and　halted；　quite　stupidly；　in　front　of　a　booth　stocked　with　gingerbread　and　decanters　of　liquorice…water；　each　topped　by　a　lemon。　　A　miserable　little　boy；　covered　with　rags；　which　expose　his　chapped　skin；　stares　with　widely　opened　eyes　at　those　sumptuous　sweets　which　are　not　for　such　as　he。　　With　the　shamelessness　of　innocence　he　betrays　his　longing。　　His　round；　fixed　eyes　contemplate　a　certain　gingerbread　man　of　lofty　stature。　　It　is　a　general；　and　it　looks　a　little　like　Uncle　Victor。　　I　take　it；　I　pay　for　it；　and　present　it　to　the　little　pauper；　who　dares　not　extend　his　hand　to　receive　itfor；　by　reason　of　precocious　experience；　he　cannot　believe　in　luck；　he　looks　at　me；　in　the　same　way　that　certain　big　dogs　do；　with　the　air　of　one　saying；　〃You　are　cruel　to　make　fun　of　me　like　that！〃

〃Come；　little　stupid；〃　I　say　to　him；　in　that　rough　tone　I　am　accustomed　to　use；　〃take　ittake　it；　and　eat　it；　for　you；　happier　than　I　was　at　your　age；　you　can　satisfy　your　tastes　without　disgracing　yourself。〃。。。And　you；　Uncle　Victoryou；　whose　manly　figure　has　been　recalled　to　me　by　that　gingerbread　general；　come；　glorious　Shadow；　help　me　to　forget　my　new　doll。　　We　remain　for　ever　children；　and　are　always　running　after　new　toys。




Same　day。


In　the　oddest　way　that　Coccoz　family　has　become　associated　in　my　mind　with　the　Clerk　Alexander。

〃Therese；〃　I　said；　as　I　threw　myself　into　my　easy…chair；　〃tell　me　if　the　little　Coccoz　is　well；　and　whether　he　has　got　his　first　teeth　yetand　bring　me　my　slippers。〃

〃He　ought　to　have　them　by　this　time；　Monsieur；〃　replied　Therese；　〃but　I　never　saw　them。　　The　very　first　fine　day　of　spring　the　mother　disappeared　with　the　child；　leaving　furniture　and　clothes　and　everything　behind　her。　　They　found　thirty…eight　empty　pomade…pots　in　the　attic。　　It　passes　all　belief！　　She　had　visitors　latterly；　and　you　may　be　quite　sure　she　is　not　now　in　a　convent　of　nuns。　　The　niece　of　the　concierge　says　she　saw　her　driving　about　in　a　carriage　on　the　boulevards。　　I　always　told　you　she　would　end　badly。〃

〃Therese；〃　I　replied；　〃that　young　woman　has　not　ended　either　badly　or　well　as　yet。　　Wait　until　the　term　of　her　life　is　over　before　you　judge　her。　　And　be　careful　not　to　talk　too　much　with　that　concierge。　It　seemed　to　methough　I　only　saw　her　for　a　moment　on　the　stairs　that　Madame　Coccoz　was　very　fond　of　her　child。　　For　that　mother's　love　at　least；　she　deserves　credit。〃

〃As　far　as　that　goes；　Monsieur；　certainly　the　little　one　never　wanted　for　anything。　　In　all　the　Quarter　one　could　not　have　found　a　child　better　kept；　or　better　nourished；　or　more　petted　and　coddled。　　Every　day　that　God　makes　she　puts　a　clean　bib　on　him；　and　sings　to　him　to　make　him　laugh　from　morning　till　night。〃

〃Therese；　a　poet　has　said；　'That　child　whose　mother　has　never　smiled　upon　him　is　worthy　neither　of　the　table　of　the　gods　nor　of　the　couch　of　the　goddesses。'〃



July　8；　1852。


Having　been　informed　that　the　Chapel　of　the　Virgin　at　Saint…Germain…　des…Pres　was　being　repaved；　I　entered　the　church　with　the　hope　of　discovering　some　old　inscriptions；　possibly　exposed　by　the　labours　of　the　workmen。　　I　was　not　disappointed。　　The　architect　kindly　showed　me　a　stone　which　he　had　just　had　raised　up　against　the　wall。　I　knelt　down　to　look　at　the　inscription　engraved　upon　that　stone；　and　then；　half　aloud；　I　read　in　the　shadow　of　the　old　apsis　these　words；　which　made　my　heart　leap：

〃Cy…gist　Alexandre；　moyne　de　ceste　eglise；　qui　fist　mettre　en　argent　le　menton　de　Saint…Vincent　et　de　Saint…Amant　et　le　pie　des　Innocens；　qui　toujours　en　son　vivant　fut　preud'homme　et　vayllant。　　Priez　pour　l'ame　de　lui。〃

I　wiped　gently　away　with　my　handkerchief　the　dust　covering　that　gravestone；　I　could　have　kissed　it。

〃It　is　he！　it　is　Alexander！〃　I　cried　out；　and　from　the　height　of　the　vaults　the　name　fell　back　upon　me　with　a　clang；　as　if　broken。

The　silent　severity　of　the　beadle；　whom　I　saw　advancing　towards　me；　made　me　ashamed　of　my　enthusiasm；　and　I　fled　between　the　two　holy　water　sprinklers　with　which　tow　rival　〃rats　d'eglise〃　seemed　desirous　of　barring　my　way。

At　all　events　it　was　certainly　my　own　Alexander！　there　could　be　no　more　doubt　possible；　the　translator　of　the　〃Golden　Legend；〃　the　author　of　the　saints　lives　of　Saints　Germain；　Vincent；　Ferreol；　Ferrution；　and　Droctoveus　was；　just　as　I　had　supposed；　a　monk　of　Saint…Germain…des…Pres。　　And　what　a　monk；　toopious　and　generous！　He　had　a　silver　chin；　a　silver　head；　and　a　silver　foot　made；　that　certain　precious　remains　should　be　covered　with　an　incorruptible　envelope！　　But　shall　I　never　be　able　to　view　his　handiwork？　or　is　this　new　discovery　only　destined　to　increase　my　regrets？



August　20；　1859。


〃I；　that　please　some；　try　all；　both　joy　and　terror　　Of　good　and　bad；　that　make　and　unfold　error　　Now　take　upon　me；　in　the　name　of　Time　　To　use　my　wings。　　Impute　it　not　a　crime　　To　me　or　my　swift　passage；　that　I　slide　　O'er　years。〃

Who　speaks　thus？　　'Tis　an　old　man　whom　I　know　too　well。　　It　is　Time。

Shakespeare；　after　having　terminated　the　third　act　of　the　〃Winter's　Tale；〃　pauses　in　order　to　leave　time　for　little　Perdita　to　grow　up　in　wisdom　and　in　beauty；　and　when　he　raises　the　curtain　again　he　evokes　the　ancient　Scythe…bearer　upon　the　stage　to　render　account　to　the　audience　of　those　many　long　days　which　have　weighted　down　upon　the　head　of　the　jealous　Leontes。

Like　Shakespeare　in　his　play；　I　have　left　in　this　diary　of　mine　a　long　interval　to　oblivion；　and　after　the　fashion　of　the　poet；　I　make　Time　himself　intervene　to　explain　the　omission　of　ten　whole　years。　Ten　whole　years；　indeed；　have　passed　since　I　wrote　one　single　line　in　this　diary；　and　now　that　I　take　up　the　pen　again；　I　have　not　the　pleasure；　alas！　to　describe　a　Perdita　〃now　grown　in　grace。〃　　Youth　and　beauty　are　the　faithful　companions　of　poets；　but　those　charming　phantoms　scarcely　visit　the　rest　of　us；　even　for　the　space　of　a　season。　　We　do　not　know　how　to　retain　them　with　us。　　If　the　fair　shade　of　some　Perdita　should　ever；　through　some　inconceivable　whim；　take　a　notion　to　traverse　my　brain；　she　would　hurt　herself　horribly　against　heaps　of　dog…eared　parchments。　　Happy　the　poets！their　white　hairs　never　scare　away　the　hovering　shades　of　Helens；　Francescas；　Juliets；　Julias；　and　Dorotheas！　　But　the　nose　alone　of　Sylvestre　Bonnard　would　put　to　flight　the　whole　swarm　of　love's　heroines。

Yet　I；　like　others；　have　felt　beauty；　I　have　known　that　mysterious　charm　which　Nature　has　lent　to　animate　form；　and　the　clay　which　lives　has　given　to　me　that　shudder　of　delight　which　makes　the　lover　and　the　poet。　　But　I　have　never　known　either　how　to　love　or　how　to　sing。　　Now　in　my　memoryall　encumbered　as　it　is　with　the　rubbish　of　old　textsI　can　discern　again；　like　a　miniature　forgotten　in　some　attic；　a　certain　bright　young　face；　with　violet　eyes。。。。　　Why；　Bonnard；　my　friend；　what　an　old　fool　you　are　becoming！　　Read　that　catalogue　which　a　Florentine　bookseller　sent　you　this　very　morning。　It　is　a　catalogue　of　Manuscripts；　and　he　promises　you　a　description　of　several　famous　ones；　long　preserved　by　the　collectors　of　Italy　and　Sicily。　　There　is　something　better　suited　to　you；　something　more　in　keeping　with　your　present　appearance。

I　read；　I　cry　out！　　Hamilcar；　who　has　assumed　with　the　approach　of　age　an　air　of　gravity　that　intimidates　me；　looks　at　me　reproachfully；　and　seems　to　ask　me　whether　there　is　any　rest　in　this　world；　since　he　cannot　enjoy　it　beside　me；　who　am　old　also　like　himself。

In　the　sudden　joy　of　my　discove