original short stories-8-第8章

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Mademoiselle　Source　had　adopted　this　boy　under　very　sad　circumstances。
She　was　at　the　time　thirty…six　years　old。　　Being　disfigured　through
having　as　a　child　slipped　off　her　nurse's　lap　into　the　fireplace　and
burned　her　face　shockingly；　she　had　determined　not　to　marry；　for　she　did
not　want　any　man　to　marry　her　for　her　money。

A　neighbor　of　hers；　left　a　widow　just　before　her　child　was　born；　died　in
giving　birth；　without　leaving　a　sou。　　Mademoiselle　Source　took　the　new…
born　child；　put　him　out　to　nurse；　reared　him；　sent　him　to　a　boarding…
school；　then　brought　him　home　in　his　fourteenth　year；　in　order　to　have　in
her　empty　house　somebody　who　would　love　her；　who　would　look　after　her；
and　make　her　old　age　pleasant。

She　had　a　little　country　place　four　leagues　from　Rennes；　and　she　now
dispensed　with　a　servant；　her　expenses　having　increased　to　more　than
double　since　this　orphan's　arrival；　her　income　of　three　thousand　francs
was　no　longer　sufficient　to　support　three　persons。

She　attended　to　the　housekeeping　and　cooking　herself；　and　sent　out　the
boy　on　errands；　letting　him　also　occupy　himself　in　cultivating　the
garden。　　He　was　gentle；　timid；　silent；　and　affectionate。　　And　she
experienced　a　deep　happiness；　a　fresh　happiness　when　he　kissed　her
without　surprise　or　horror　at　her　disfigurement。　　He　called　her　〃Aunt；〃
and　treated　her　as　a　mother。

In　the　evening　they　both　sat　down　at　the　fireside；　and　she　made　nice
little　dainties　for　him。　　She　heated　some　wine　and　toasted　a　slice　of
bread；　and　it　made　a　charming　little　meal　before　going　to　bed。　　She　often
took　him　on　her　knees　and　covered　him　with　kisses；　murmuring　tender　words
in　his　ear。　　She　called　him：　〃My　little　flower；　my　cherub；　my　adored
angel；　my　divine　jewel。〃　　He　softly　accepted　her　caresses；　hiding　his
head　on　the　old　maid's　shoulder。　　Although　he　was　now　nearly　fifteen；　he
had　remained　small　and　weak；　and　had　a　rather　sickly　appearance。

Sometimes　Mademoiselle　Source　took　him　to　the　city；　to　see　two　married
female　relatives　of　hers；　distant　cousins；　who　were　living　in　the
suburbs；　and　who　were　the　only　members　of　her　family　in　existence。　　The
two　women　had　always　found　fault　with　her；　for　having　adopted　this　boy；
on　account　of　the　inheritance；　but　for　all　that；　they　gave　her　a　cordial
welcome；　having　still　hopes　of　getting　a　share　for　themselves；　a　third；
no　doubt；　if　what　she　possessed　were　only　equally　divided。

She　was　happy；　very　happy；　always　occupied　with　her　adopted　child。　　She
bought　books　for　him　to　improve　his　mind；　and　he　became　passionately　fond
of　reading。

He　no　longer　climbed　on　her　knee　to　pet　her　as　he　had　formerly　done；　but；
instead；　would　go　and　sit　down　in　his　little　chair　in　the　chimney…corner
and　open　a　volume。　　The　lamp　placed　at　the　edge　of　the　Tittle　table　above
his　head　shone　on　his　curly　hair；　and　on　a　portion　of　his　forehead；　he
did　not　move；　he　did　not　raise　his　eyes　or　make　any　gesture。　　He　read　on；
interested；　entirely　absorbed　in　the　story　he　was　reading。

Seated　opposite　to　him；　she　would　gaze　at　him　earnestly；　astonished　at
his　studiousness；　often　on　the　point　of　bursting　into　tears。

She　said　to　him　occasionally：　〃You　will　fatigue　yourself；　my　treasure！〃
hoping　that　he　would　raise　his　head；　and　come　across　to　embrace　her；　but
he　did　not　even　answer　her；　he　had　not　heard　or　understood　what　she　was
saying；　he　paid　no　attention　to　anything　save　what　he　read　in　those
pages。

For　two　years　he　devoured　an　incalculable　number　of　volumes。　　His
character　changed。

After　this；　he　asked　Mademoiselle　Source　several　times　for　money；　which
she　gave　him。　　As　he　always　wanted　more；　she　ended　by　refusing；　for　she
was　both　methodical　and　decided；　and　knew　how　to　act　rationally　when　it
was　necessary　to　do　so。　　By　dint　of　entreaties　he　obtained　a　large　sum
from　her　one　night；　but　when　he　begged　her　for　more　a　few　days　later；　she
showed　herself　inflexible；　and　did　not　give　way　to　him　further；　in　fact。

He　appeared　to　be　satisfied　with　her　decision。

He　again　became　quiet；　as　he　had　formerly　been；　remaining　seated　for
entire　hours；　without　moving；　plunged　in　deep　reverie。　　He　now　did　not
even　talk　to　Madame　Source；　merely　answering　her　remarks　with　short；
formal　words。　　Nevertheless；　he　was　agreeable　and　attentive　in　his　manner
toward　her；　but　he　never　embraced　her　now。

She　had　by　this　time　grown　slightly　afraid　of　him　when　they　sat　facing
one　another　at　night　on　opposite　sides　of　the　fireplace。　　She　wanted　to
wake　him　up；　to　make　him　say　something；　no　matter　what；　that　would　break
this　dreadful　silence；　which　was　like　the　darkness　of　a　wood。　　But　he　did
not　appear　to　listen　to　her；　and　she　shuddered　with　the　terror　of　a　poor
feeble　woman　when　she　had　spoken　to　him　five　or　six　times　successively
without　being　able　to　get　a　word　out　of　him。

What　was　the　matter　with　him？　　What　was　going　on　in　that　closed…up　head？
When　she　had　remained　thus　two　or　three　hours　opposite　him；　she　felt　as
if　she　were　going　insane；　and　longed　to　rush　away　and　to　escape　into　the
open　country　in　order　to　avoid　that　mute；　eternal　companionship　and　also
some　vague　danger；　which　she　could　not　define；　but　of　which　she　had　a
presentiment。

She　frequently　wept　when　she　was　alone。　　What　was　the　matter　with　him？
When　she　expressed　a　wish；　he　unmurmuringly　carried　it　into　execution。
When　she　wanted　anything　brought　from　the　city；　he　immediately　went　there
to　procure　it。　　She　had　no　complaint　to　make　of　him；　no；　indeed！　　And
yet

Another　year　flitted　by；　and　it　seemed　to　her　that　a　fresh　change　had
taken　place　in　the　mind　of　the　young　man。　　She　perceived　it；　she　felt　it；
she　divined　it。　　How？　　No　matter！　　She　was　sure　she　was　not　mistaken；　but
she　could　not　have　explained　in　what　manner　the　unknown　thoughts　of　this
strange　youth　had　changed。

It　seemed　to　her　that；　until　now；　he　had　been　like　a　person　in　a
hesitating　frame　of　mind；　who　had　suddenly　arrived　at　a　determination。
This　idea　came　to　her　one　evening　as　she　met　his　glance；　a　fixed；
singular　glance　which　she　had　not　seen　in　his　face　before。

Then　he　commenced　to　watch　her　incessantly；　and　she　wished　she　could　hide
herself　in　order　to　avoid　that　cold　eye　riveted　on　her。

He　kept　staring　at　her；　evening　after　evening；　for　hours　together；　only
averting　his　eyes　when　she　said；　utterly　unnerved：

〃Do　not　look　at　me　like　that；　my　child！〃

Then　he　would　lower　his　head。

But　the　moment　her　back　was　turned　she　once　more　felt　that　his　eyes　were
upon　her。　　Wherever　she　went；　he　pursued　her　with　his　persistent　gaze。

Sometimes；　when　she　was　walking　in　her　little　garden；　she　suddenly
noticed　him　hidden　behind　a　bush；　as　if　he　were　lying　in　wait　for　her；
and；　again；　when　she　sat　in　front　of　the　house　mending　stockings　while　he
was　digging　some　vegetable　bed；　he　kept　continually　watching　her　in　a
surreptitious　manner；　as　he　worked。

It　was　in　vain　that　she　asked　him：

〃What's　the　matter　with　you；　my　boy？　　For　the　last　three　years；　you　have
become　very　different。　　I　don't　recognize　you。　　Do　tell　me　what　ails　you；
and　what　you　are　thinking　of。〃

He　invariably　replied；　in　a　quiet；　weary　tone：

〃Why；　nothing　ails　me；　aunt！〃

And　when　she　persisted：

〃Ah！　　my　child；　answer　me；　answer　me　when　I　speak　to　you。　　If　you　knew
what　grief　you　caused　me；　you　would　always　answer；　and　you　would　not　look
at　me　that　way。　　Have　you　any　trouble？　　Tell　me！　　I'll　comfort　you！〃

He　went　away；　with　a　tired　air；　murmuring：

〃But　there　is　nothing　the　matter　with　me；　I　assure　you。〃

He　had　not　grown　much；　having　always　a　childish　look；　although　his
features　were　those　of　a　man。　　They　were；　however；　hard　and　badly　cut。
He　seemed　incomplete；　abortive；　only　half　finished；　and　disquieting　as　a
mystery。　　He　was　a　self…contained；　unapproachable　being；　in　whom　there
seemed　always　to　be　some　active；　dangerous　mental　labor　going　on。
Mademoiselle　Source　was　quite　conscious　of　all　this；　and　she　could　not
sleep　at　night；　so　great　was　her　anxiety。　　Frightful　terrors；　dreadful
nightmares　assailed　her。　　She　shut　herself　up　in　her　own　room；　and
barricaded　the　door；　tortured　by　fear。

What　was　she　afraid　of？　　She　could　not　tell。

She　feared　every