some reminiscences-第33章
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artless tales of the pilots and so on entertained Madame
Delestang; so far as that ineffable woman could be entertained by
the prattle of a youngster very full of his new experience
amongst strange men and strange sensations。 She expressed no
opinions; and talked to me very little; yet her portrait hangs in
the gallery of my intimate memories; fixed there by a short and
fleeting episode。 One day; after putting me down at the corner
of a street; she offered me her hand; and detained me by a slight
pressure; for a moment。 While the husband sat motionless and
looking straight before him; she leaned forward in the carriage
to say; with just a shade of warning in her leisurely tone: 〃Il
faut; cependant; faire attention a ne pas gater sa vie。〃 I had
never seen her face so close to mine before。 She made my heart
beat; and caused me to remain thoughtful for a whole evening。
Certainly one must; after all; take care not to spoil one's life。
But she did not knownobody could knowhow impossible that
danger seemed to me。
Chapter VII。
Can the transports of first love be calmed; checked; turned to a
cold suspicion of the future by a grave quotation from a work on
Political Economy? I askis it conceivable? Is it possible?
Would it be right? With my feet on the very shores of the sea
and about to embrace my blue…eyed dream; what could a good…
natured warning as to spoiling one's life mean to my youthful
passion? It was the most unexpected and the last too of the many
warnings I had received。 It sounded to me very bizarreand;
uttered as it was in the very presence of my enchantress; like
the voice of folly; the voice of ignorance。 But I was not so
callous or so stupid as not to recognise there also the voice of
kindness。 And then the vagueness of the warningbecause what
can be the meaning of the phrase: to spoil one's life?arrested
one's attention by its air of wise profundity。 At any rate; as I
have said before; the words of la belle Madame Delestang made me
thoughtful for a whole evening。 I tried to understand and tried
in vain; not having any notion of life as an enterprise that
could be mismanaged。 But I left off being thoughtful shortly
before midnight; at which hour; haunted by no ghosts of the past
and by no visions of the future; I walked down the quay of the
Vieux Port to join the pilot…boat of my friends。 I knew where
she would be waiting for her crew; in the little bit of a canal
behind the Fort at the entrance of the harbour。 The deserted
quays looked very white and dry in the moonlight and as if frost…
bound in the sharp air of that December night。 A prowler or two
slunk by noiselessly; a custom…house guard; soldier…like; a sword
by his side; paced close under the bowsprits of the long row of
ships moored bows on opposite the long; slightly curved;
continuous flat wall of the tall houses that seemed to be one
immense abandoned building with innumerable windows shuttered
closely。 Only here and there a small dingy cafe for sailors cast
a yellow gleam on the bluish sheen of the flagstones。 Passing
by; one heard a deep murmur of voices insidenothing more。 How
quiet everything was at the end of the quays on the last night on
which I went out for a service cruise as a guest of the
Marseilles pilots! Not a footstep; except my own; not a sigh;
not a whispering echo of the usual revelry going on in the narrow
unspeakable lanes of the Old Town reached my earand suddenly;
with a terrific jingling rattle of iron and glass; the omnibus of
the Jolliette on its last journey swung round the corner of the
dead wall which faces across the paved road the characteristic
angular mass of the Fort St。 Jean。 Three horses trotted abreast
with the clatter of hoofs on the granite setts; and the yellow;
uproarious machine jolted violently behind them; fantastic;
lighted up; perfectly empty and with the driver apparently asleep
on his swaying perch above that amazing racket。 I flattened
myself against the wall and gasped。 It was a stunning
experience。 Then after staggering on a few paces in the shadow
of the Fort casting a darkness more intense than that of a
clouded night upon the canal; I saw the tiny light of a lantern
standing on the quay; and became aware of muffled figures making
towards it from various directions。 Pilots of the Third Company
hastening to embark。 Too sleepy to be talkative they step on
board in silence。 But a few low grunts and an enormous yawn are
heard。 Somebody even ejaculates: 〃Ah! Coquin de sort!〃 and
sighs wearily at his hard fate。
The patron of the Third Company (there were five companies of
pilots at that time; I believe) is the brother…in…law of my
friend Solary (Baptistin); a broad…shouldered; deep…chested man
of forty; with a keen; frank glance which always seeks your eyes。
He greets me by a low; hearty; 〃He; l'ami。 Comment va?〃 With
his clipped moustache and massive open face; energetic and at the
same time placid in expression; he is a fine specimen of the
southerner of the calm type。 For there is such a type in which
the volatile southern passion is transmuted into solid force。 He
is fair; but no one could mistake him for a man of the north even
by the dim gleam of the lantern standing on the quay。 He is
worth a dozen of your ordinary Normans or Bretons; but then; in
the whole immense sweep of the Mediterranean shores; you could
not find half a dozen men of his stamp。
Standing by the tiller; he pulls out his watch from under a thick
jacket and bends his head over it in the light cast into the
boat。 Time's up。 His pleasant voice commands in a quiet
undertone 〃Larguez。〃 A suddenly projected arm snatches the
lantern off the quayand; warped along by a line at first; then
with the regular tug of four heavy sweeps in the bow; the big
half…decked boat full of men glides out of the black breathless
shadow of the Fort。 The open water of the avant…port glitters
under the moon as if sown over with millions of sequins; and the
long white breakwater shines like a thick bar of solid silver。
With a quick rattle of blocks and one single silky swish; the
sail is filled by a little breeze keen enough to have come
straight down from the frozen moon; and the boat; after the
clatter of the hauled…in sweeps; seems to stand at rest;
surrounded by a mysterious whispering so faint and unearthly that
it may be the rustling of the brilliant; over…powering moonrays
breaking like a rain…shower upon the hard; smooth; shadowless
sea。
I may well remember that last night spent with the pilots of the
Third Company。 I have known the spell of moonlight since; on
various seas and coastscoasts of forests; of rocks; of sand
dunesbut no magic so perfect in its revelation of unsuspected
character; as though one were allowed to look upon the mystic
nature of material things。 For hours I suppose no word was
spoken in that boat。 The pilots seated in two rows facing each
other dozed with their arms folded and their chins resting upon
their breasts。 They displayed a great variety of caps: cloth;
wool; leather; peaks; ear…flaps; tassels; with a picturesque
round beret or two pulled down over the brows; and one
grandfather; with a shaved; bony face and a great beak of a nose;
had a cloak with a hood which made him look in our midst like a
cowled monk being carried off goodness knows where by that silent
company of seamenquiet enough to be dead。