贝壳电子书 > 英文原著电子书 > modeste mignon >

第24章

modeste mignon-第24章

小说: modeste mignon 字数: 每页4000字

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!




  Parisian。 But I am no longer master of myself; my life; my future

  depend on the answer you will make me。 Tell me if the certainty of

  an unbounded affection; oblivious of all social conventions; will

  touch you;if you will suffer me to seek you。 There is anxiety

  enough and uncertainty enough in the question as to whether I can

  personally please you。 If your reply is favorable I change my

  life; I bid adieu to all the irksome pleasures which we have the

  folly to call happiness。 Happiness; my dear and beautiful unknown;

  is what you dream it to be;a fusion of feelings; a perfect

  accordance of souls; the imprint of a noble ideal (such as God

  does permit us to form in this low world) upon the trivial round

  of daily life whose habits we must needs obey; a constancy of

  heart more precious far than what we call fidelity。 Can we say

  that we make sacrifices when the end in view is our eternal good;

  the dream of poets; the dream of maidens; the poem which; at the

  entrance of life when thought essays its wings; each noble

  intellect has pondered and caressed only to see it shivered to

  fragments on some stone of stumbling as hard as it is vulgar?for

  to the great majority of men; the foot of reality steps instantly

  on that mysterious egg so seldom hatched。



  I cannot speak to you any more of myself; not of my past life; nor

  of my character; nor of an affection almost maternal on one side;

  filial on mine; which you have already seriously changedan

  effect upon my life which must explain my use of the word

  〃sacrifice。〃 You have already rendered me forgetful; if not

  ungrateful; does that satisfy you? Oh; speak! Say to me one word;

  and I will love you till my eyes close in death; as the Marquis de

  Pescaire loved his wife; as Romeo loved Juliet; and faithfully。

  Our life will be; for me at least; that 〃felicity untroubled〃

  which Dante made the very element of his Paradiso;a poem far

  superior to his Inferno。 Strange; it is not myself that I doubt in

  the long reverie through which; like you; I follow the windings of

  a dreamed existence; it is you。 Yes; dear; I feel within me the

  power to love; and to love endlessly;to march to the grave with

  gentle slowness and a smiling eye; with my beloved on my arm; and

  with never a cloud upon the sunshine of our souls。 Yes; I dare to

  face our mutual old age; to see ourselves with whitening heads;

  like the venerable historian of Italy; inspired always with the

  same affection but transformed in soul by our life's seasons。 Hear

  me; I can no longer be your friend only。 Though Chrysale; Geronte;

  and Argante re…live; you say; in me; I am not yet old enough to

  drink from the cup held to my lips by the sweet hands of a veiled

  woman without a passionate desire to tear off the domino and the

  mask and see the face。 Either write me no more; or give me hope。

  Let me see you; or let me go。 Must I bid you adieu? Will you

  permit me to sign myself;



Your Friend?





  To Monsieur de Canalis;What flattery! with what rapidity is the

  grave Anselme transformed into a handsome Leander! To what must I

  attribute such a change? to this black which I put upon this

  white? to these ideas which are to the flowers of my soul what a

  rose drawn in charcoal is to the roses in the garden? Or is it to

  a recollection of the young girl whom you took for me; and who is

  personally as like me as a waiting…woman is like her mistress?

  Have we changed roles? Have I the sense? have you the fancy? But a

  truce with jesting。



  Your letter has made me know the elating pleasures of the soul;

  the first that I have known outside of my family affections。 What;

  says a poet; are the ties of blood which are so strong in ordinary

  minds; compared to those divinely forged within us by mysterious

  sympathies? Let me thank youno; we must not thank each other for

  such thingsbut God bless you for the happiness you have given

  me; be happy in the joy you have shed into my soul。 You explain to

  me some of the apparent injustices in social life。 There is

  something; I know not what; so dazzling; so virile in glory; that

  it belongs only to man; God forbids us women to wear its halo; but

  he makes love our portion; giving us the tenderness which soothes

  the brow scorched by his lightnings。 I have felt my mission; and

  you have now confirmed it。



  Sometimes; my friend; I rise in the morning in a state of

  inexpressible sweetness; a sort of peace; tender and divine; gives

  me an idea of heaven。 My first thought is then like a benediction。

  I call these mornings my little German wakings; in opposition to

  my Southern sunsets; full of heroic deeds; battles; Roman fetes

  and ardent poems。 Well; after reading your letter; so full of

  feverish impatience; I felt in my heart all the freshness of my

  celestial wakings; when I love the air about me and all nature;

  and fancy that I am destined to die for one I love。 One of your

  poems; 〃The Maiden's Song;〃 paints these delicious moments; when

  gaiety is tender; when aspiration is a need; it is one of my

  favorites。 Do you want me to put all my flatteries into one?well

  then; I think you worthy to be ME!



  Your letter; though short; enables me to read within you。 Yes; I

  have guessed your tumultuous struggles; your piqued curiosity;

  your projects; but I do not yet know you well enough to satisfy

  your wishes。 Hear me; dear; the mystery in which I am shrouded

  allows me to use that word; which lets you see to the bottom of my

  heart。 Hear me: if we once meet; adieu to our mutual

  comprehension! Will you make a compact with me? Was the first

  disadvantageous to you? But remember it won you my esteem; and it

  is a great deal; my friend; to gain an admiration lined throughout

  with esteem。 Here is the compact: write me your life in a few

  words; then tell me what you do in Paris; day by day; with no

  reservations; and as if you were talking to some old friend。 Well;

  having done that; I will take a step myselfI will see you; I

  promise you that。 And it is a great deal。



  This; dear; is no intrigue; no adventure; no gallantry; as you men

  say; can come of it; I warn you frankly。 It involves my life; and

  more than that;something that causes me remorse for the many

  thoughts that fly to you in flocksit involves my father's and my

  mother's life。 I adore them; and my choice must please them; they

  must find a son in you。



  Tell me; to what extent can the superb spirits of your kind; to

  whom God has given the wings of his angels; without always adding

  their amiability;how far can they bend under a family yoke; and

  put up with its little miseries? That is a text I have meditated

  upon。 Ah! though I said to my heart before I came to you; Forward!

  Onward! it did not tremble and palpitate any the less on the way;

  and I did not conceal from myself the stoniness of the path nor

  the Alpine difficulties I had to encounter。 I thought of all in my

  long; long meditations。 Do I not know that eminent men like you

  have known the love they have inspired quite as well as that which

  they themselves have felt; that they have had many romances in

  their lives;you particularly; who send forth those airy visions

  of your soul that women rush to buy? Yet still I cried to myself;

  〃Onward!〃 because I have studied; more than you give me credit

  for; the geography of the great summits of humanity; which you

  tell me are so cold。 Did you not say that Goethe and Byron were

  the colossi of egoism and poetry? Ah; my friend; there you shared

  a mistake into which superficial minds are apt to fall; but in you

  perhaps it came from generosity; false modesty; or the desire to

  escape from me。 Vulgar minds may mistake the effect of toil for

  the development of personal character; but you must not。 Neither

  Lord Byron

返回目录 上一页 下一页 回到顶部 0 0

你可能喜欢的