51(y)(7)
用你喜欢的方式阅读你喜欢的小说
巴黎圣母院英文版 - BOOK FIRST CHAPTER V.QUASIMODO.
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  In the twinkling of an eye, all was ready to execute Coppenole's idea.Bourgeois, scholars and law clerks all set to work.The little chapel situated opposite the marble table was selected for the scene of the grinning match.A pane broken in the pretty rose window above the door, left free a circle of stone through which it was agreed that the competitors should thrust their heads.In order to reach it, it was only necessary to mount upon a couple of hogsheads, which had been produced from I know not where, and perched one upon the other, after a fashion.It was settled that each candidate, man or woman (for it was possible to choose a female pope), should, for the sake of leaving the impression of his grimace fresh and complete, cover his face and remain concealed in the chapel until the moment of his appearance.In less than an instant, the chapel was crowded with competitors, upon whom the door was then closed.Coppenole, from his post, ordered all, directed all, arranged all.During the uproar, the cardinal, no less abashed than Gringoire, had retired with all his suite, under the pretext of business and vespers, without the crowd which his arrival had so deeply stirred being in the least moved by his departure. Guillaume Rym was the only one who noticed his eminence's discomfiture.The attention of the populace, like the sun, pursued its revolution; having set out from one end of the hall, and halted for a space in the middle, it had now reached the other end.The marble table, the brocaded gallery had each had their day; it was now the turn of the chapel of Louis XI. Henceforth, the field was open to all folly.There was no one there now, but the Flemings and the rabble.The grimaces began.The first face which appeared at the aperture, with eyelids turned up to the reds, a mouth open like a maw, and a brow wrinkled like our hussar boots of the Empire, evoked such an inextinguishable peal of laughter that Homer would have taken all these louts for gods. Nevertheless, the grand hall was anything but Olympus, and Gringoire's poor Jupiter knew it better than any one else.A second and third grimace followed, then another and another; and the laughter and transports of delight went on increasing. There was in this spectacle, a peculiar power of intoxication and fascination, of which it would be difficult to convey to the reader of our day and our salons any idea.Let the reader picture to himself a series of visages presenting successively all geometrical forms, from the triangle to the trapezium, from the cone to the polyhedron; all human expressions, from wrath to lewdness; all ages, from the wrinkles of the new-born babe to the wrinkles of the aged and dying; all religious phantasmagories, from Faun to Beelzebub; all animal profiles, from the maw to the beak, from the jowl to the muzzle.Let the reader imagine all these grotesque figures of the pont Neuf, those nightmares petrified beneath the hand of Germain pilon, assuming life and breath, and coming in turn to stare you in the face with burning eyes; all the masks of the Carnival of Venice passing in succession before your glass,--in a word, a human kaleidoscope.The orgy grew more and more Flemish.Teniers could have given but a very imperfect idea of it.Let the reader picture to himself in bacchanal form, Salvator Rosa's battle.There were no longer either scholars or ambassadors or bourgeois or men or women; there was no longer any Clopin Trouillefou, nor Gilles Lecornu, nor Marie Quatrelivres, nor Robin poussepain. All was universal license.The grand hall was no longer anything but a vast furnace of effrontry and joviality, where every mouth was a cry, every individual a posture; everything shouted and howled.The strange visages which came, in turn, to gnash their teeth in the rose window, were like so many brands cast into the brazier; and from the whole of this effervescing crowd, there escaped, as from a furnace, a sharp, piercing, stinging noise, hissing like the wings of a gnat."Ho hé! curse it!""Just look at that face!""It's not good for anything.""Guillemette Maugerepuis, just look at that bull's muzzle; it only lacks the horns.It can't be your husband.""Another!""Belly of the pope! what sort of a grimace is that?""Hola hé! that's cheating.One must show only one's face.""That damned perrette Callebotte! she's capable of that!""Good!Good!""I'm stifling!""There's a fellow whose ears won't go through!" Etc., etc.But we must do justice to our friend Jehan.In the midst of this witches' sabbath, he was still to be seen on the top of his pillar, like the cabin-boy on the topmast.He floundered about with incredible fury.His mouth was wide open, and from it there escaped a cry which no one heard, not that it was covered by the general clamor, great as that was but because it attained, no doubt, the limit of perceptible sharp sounds, the thousand vibrations of Sauveur, or the eight thousand of Biot.As for Gringoire, the first moment of depression having passed, he had regained his composure.He had hardened himself against adversity.---"Continue!" he had said for the third time, to his comedians, speaking machines; then as he was marching with great strides in front of the marble table, a fancy seized him to go and appear in his turn at the aperture of the chapel, were it only for the pleasure of making a grimace at that ungrateful populace.--"But no, that would not be worthy of us; no, vengeance! let us combat until the end," he repeated to himself; "the power of poetry over people is great; I will bring them back.We shall see which will carry the day, grimaces or polite literature."Alas! he had been left the sole spectator of his piece. It was far worse than it had been a little while before.He no longer beheld anything but backs.I am mistaken.The big, patient man, whom he had already consulted in a critical moment, had remained with his face turned towards the stage.As for Gisquette and Liénarde, they had deserted him long ago.Gringoire was touched to the heart by the fidelity of his only spectator.He approached him and addressed him, shaking his arm slightly; for the good man was leaning on the balustrade and dozing a little."Monsieur," said Gringoire, "I thank you!""Monsieur," replied the big man with a yawn, "for what?""I see what wearies you," resumed the poet; "'tis all this noise which prevents your hearing comfortably.But be at ease! your name shall descend to posterity!Your name, if you please?""Renauld Chateau, guardian of the seals of the Chatelet of paris, at your service.""Monsieur, you are the only representive of the muses here," said Gringoire."You are too kind, sir," said the guardian of the seals at the Chatelet."You are the only one," resumed Gringoire, "who has listened to the piece decorously.What do you think of it?""He! he!" replied the fat magistrate, half aroused, "it's tolerably jolly, that's a fact."Gringoire was forced to content himself with this eulogy; for a thunder of applause, mingled with a prodigious acclamation, cut their conversation short.The pope of the Fools had been elected."Noel!Noel!Noel!"* shouted the people on all sides. That was, in fact, a marvellous grimace which was beaming at that moment through the aperture in the rose window. After all the pentagonal, hexagonal, and whimsical faces, which had succeeded each other at that hole without realizing the ideal of the grotesque which their imaginations, excited by the orgy, had constructed, nothing less was needed to win their suffrages than the sublime grimace which had just dazzled the assembly.Master Coppenole himself applauded, and Clopin Trouillefou, who had been among the competitors (and God knows what intensity of ugliness his visage could attain), confessed himself conquered: We will do the same.We shall not try to give the reader an idea of that tetrahedral nose, that horseshoe mouth; that little left eye obstructed with a red, bushy, bristling eyebrow, while the right eye disappeared entirely beneath an enormous wart; of those teeth in disarray, broken here and there, like the embattled parapet of a fortress; of that callous lip, upon which one of these teeth encroached, like the tusk of an elephant; of that forked chin; and above all, of the expression spread over the whole; of that mixture of malice, amazement, and sadness.Let the reader dream of this whole, if he can.*The ancient French hurrah.The acclamation was unanimous; people rushed towards the chapel.They made the lucky pope of the Fools come forth in triumph.But it was then that surprise and admiration attained their highest pitch; the grimace was his face.Or rather, his whole person was a grimace.A huge head, bristling with red hair; between his shoulders an enormous hump, a counterpart perceptible in front; a system of thighs and legs so strangely astray that they could touch each other only at the knees, and, viewed from the front, resembled the crescents of two scythes joined by the handles; large feet, monstrous hands; and, with all this deformity, an indescribable and redoubtable air of vigor, agility, and courage,--strange exception to the eternal rule which wills that force as well as beauty shall be the result of harmony.Such was the pope whom the fools had just chosen for themselves.One would have pronounced him a giant who had been broken and badly put together again.When this species of cyclops appeared on the threshold of the chapel, motionless, squat, and almost as broad as he was tall; squared on the base, as a great man says; with his doublet half red, half violet, sown with silver bells, and, above all, in the perfection of his ugliness, the populace recognized him on the instant, and shouted with one voice,--"'Tis Quasimodo, the bellringer! 'tis Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre-Dame!Quasimodo, the one-eyed!Quasimodo, the bandy-legged!Noel!Noel!"It will be seen that the poor fellow had a choice of surnames."Let the women with child beware!" shouted the scholars."Or those who wish to be," resumed Joannes.The women did, in fact, hide their faces."Oh! the horrible monkey!" said one of them."As wicked as he is ugly," retorted another."He's the devil," added a third."I have the misfortune to live near Notre-Dame; I hear him prowling round the eaves by night.""With the cats.""He's always on our roofs.""He throws spells down our chimneys.""The other evening, he came and made a grimace at me through my attic window.I thought that it was a man. Such a fright as I had!""I'm sure that he goes to the witches' sabbath.Once he left a broom on my leads.""Oh! what a displeasing hunchback's face!""Oh! what an ill-favored soul!""Whew!"The men, on the contrary, were delighted and applauded. Quasimodo, the object of the tumult, still stood on the threshold of the chapel, sombre and grave, and allowed them to admire him.One scholar (Robin poussepain, I think), came and laughed in his face, and too close.Quasimodo contented himself with taking him by the girdle, and hurling him ten paces off amid the crowd; all without uttering a word.Master Coppenole, in amazement, approached him."Cross of God!Holy Father! you possess the handsomest ugliness that I have ever beheld in my life.You would deserve to be pope at Rome, as well as at paris."So saying, he placed his hand gayly on his shoulder.Quasimodo did not stir.Coppenole went on,--"You are a rogue with whom I have a fancy for carousing, were it to cost me a new dozen of twelve livres of Tours. How does it strike you?"Quasimodo made no reply."Cross of God!" said the hosier, "are you deaf?"He was, in truth, deaf.Nevertheless, he began to grow impatient with Coppenole's behavior, and suddenly turned towards him with so formidable a gnashing of teeth, that the Flemish giant recoiled, like a bull-dog before a cat.Then there was created around that strange personage, a circle of terror and respect, whose radius was at least fifteen geometrical feet.An old woman explained to Coppenole that Quasimodo was deaf."Deaf!" said the hosier, with his great Flemish laugh. "Cross of God!He's a perfect pope!""He!I recognize him," exclaimed Jehan, who had, at last, descended from his capital, in order to see Quasimodo at closer quarters, "he's the bellringer of my brother, the archdeacon. Good-day, Quasimodo!""What a devil of a man!" said Robin poussepain still all bruised with his fall."He shows himself; he's a hunchback. He walks; he's bandy-legged.He looks at you; he's one-eyed. You speak to him; he's deaf.And what does this polyphemus do with his tongue?""He speaks when he chooses," said the old woman; "he became deaf through ringing the bells.He is not dumb.""That he lacks," remarks Jehan."And he has one eye too many," added Robin poussepain."Not at all," said Jehan wisely."A one-eyed man is far less complete than a blind man.He knows what he lacks."In the meantime, all the beggars, all the lackeys, all the cutpurses, joined with the scholars, had gone in procession to seek, in the cupboard of the law clerks' company, the cardboard tiara, and the derisive robe of the pope of the Fools.Quasimodo allowed them to array him in them without wincing, and with a sort of proud docility.Then they made him seat himself on a motley litter.Twelve officers of the fraternity of fools raised him on their shoulders; and a sort of bitter and disdainful joy lighted up the morose face of the cyclops, when he beheld beneath his deformed feet all those heads of handsome, straight, well-made men.Then the ragged and howling procession set out on its march, according to custom, around the inner galleries of the Courts, before making the circuit of the streets and squares.
或许您还会喜欢:
道德情操论
作者:佚名
章节:58 人气:2
摘要:自从很久以前即1759年初《道德情操论》第一版问世以来,我想到了其中可作的一些修改,以及有关该学说的种种很好的说明。但是,我一生中的种种偶然事件必然使我全神贯注于各种工作,直到现在都妨碍我常想以小心谨慎和专心致志的态度进行的修订这一著作的工作。读者将在这一新版中,在第一卷第三篇的最末一章中,以及在第三卷第四篇的第一章中,看到我已作出的主要改动。第六卷,正如它在新版中呈现的那样,完全是新写的。 [点击阅读]
伦敦桥
作者:佚名
章节:124 人气:2
摘要:杰弗里。谢弗上校很喜欢他在萨尔瓦多的新生活。有人说这个巴西第三大城市非常迷人。这确实是个充满了欢乐的地方。他在瓜拉球巴海滩正对面租了一套豪华的六居室别墅。在这里,他每天喝着甘蔗甜酒和冰镇啤酒,间或去俱乐部打打网球。到了晚上,谢弗上校——这个绰号“鼬鼠”的变态杀手——就又操起了他的老本行,在这座老城阴暗狭窄、弯弯曲曲的街道上开始了狩猎。 [点击阅读]
冰与火之歌3
作者:佚名
章节:81 人气:2
摘要:天灰灰的,冷得怕人,狗闻不到气味。黑色的大母狗嗅嗅熊的踪迹,缩了回去,夹着尾巴躲进狗群里。这群狗凄惨地蜷缩在河岸边,任凭寒风抽打。风钻过层层羊毛和皮衣,齐特也觉得冷,该死的寒气对人对狗都一样,可他却不得不待在原地。想到这里,他的嘴扭成一团,满脸疖子因恼怒而发红。我本该安安全全留在长城,照料那群臭乌鸦,为伊蒙老师傅生火才对。 [点击阅读]
北回归线
作者:佚名
章节:22 人气:2
摘要:亨利·米勒(HenryMiller,1891年12月26日-1980年6月7日)男,美国“垮掉派”作家,是20世纪美国乃至世界最重要的作家之一,同时也是最富有个性*又极具争议的文学大师和业余画家,其阅历相当丰富,从事过多种职业,并潜心研究过禅宗、犹太教苦修派、星相学、浮世绘等稀奇古怪的学问,被公推为美国文坛“前无古人, [点击阅读]
卡拉马佐夫兄弟
作者:佚名
章节:94 人气:2
摘要:献给安娜-格里戈里耶芙娜-陀思妥耶夫斯卡娅卡拉马佐夫兄弟我实实在在的告诉你们:一粒麦子不落在地里死了,仍旧是一粒;若是死了,就结出许多子粒来。(《约翰福音》第十二章第二十四节)第一部第一卷一个家庭的历史第一节费多尔-巴夫洛维奇-卡拉马佐夫阿历克赛-费多罗维奇-卡拉马佐夫是我县地主费多尔-巴夫洛维奇-卡拉马佐夫的第三个儿子。 [点击阅读]
古兰经
作者:佚名
章节:116 人气:2
摘要:《古兰经》概述《古兰经》是伊斯兰教经典,伊斯兰教徒认为它是安拉对先知穆罕默德所启示的真实语言,在穆罕默德死后汇集为书。《古兰经》的阿拉伯文在纯洁和优美上都无与伦比,在风格上是达到纯全的地步。为了在斋月诵读,《古兰经》分为30卷,一月中每天读1卷。但是《古兰经》主要划分单位却是长短不等的114章。《法蒂哈》即开端一章是简短的祈祷词,其他各章大致按长短次序排列;第二章最长;最后两三章最短。 [点击阅读]
堂吉诃德
作者:佚名
章节:134 人气:2
摘要:【一】乍看似乎荒诞不经.实则隐含作者对西班牙现实深刻的理解.作者采用讽刺夸张的艺术手法.把现实与幻想结合起来.表达他对时代的见解.现实主义的描写在中占主导地位.在环境描写方面.与旧骑士小说的装饰性*风景描写截然不同.作者以史诗般的宏伟规模.以农村为主要舞台.出场以平民为主.人数近700多人.在这广阔的社会背景中.绘出一幅幅各具特色*又互相联系的社会画面.作者塑造人物的方法也是虚实结合的. [点击阅读]
恐怖的隧道
作者:佚名
章节:8 人气:2
摘要:1金秋10月,天气分外晴朗。一辆公共汽车正在沿着关门公路向南行驶。秋田直治坐在车中最后一排的座位上,他知道车马上就要驶到关门隧道了,透过宽大明亮的车窗玻璃,他看到深秋时的天空湛蓝而高远,没有一丝浮云。往日,北九州市因为是一座工业城市,所以上空总是被浓烟笼罩着,空气污染的十分厉害。就连与它相邻的部分地区也被污染了,香川县的坂付市,远远望去,它上空墨色的污浊气体象一片拖着长尾的薄云。 [点击阅读]
战争与和平
作者:佚名
章节:361 人气:2
摘要:“啊,公爵,热那亚和卢加现在是波拿巴家族的领地,不过,我得事先对您说,如果您不对我说我们这里处于战争状态,如果您还敢袒护这个基督的敌人(我确乎相信,他是一个基督的敌人)的种种卑劣行径和他一手造成的灾祸,那么我就不再管您了。您就不再是我的朋友,您就不再是,如您所说的,我的忠实的奴隶。啊,您好,您好。我看我正在吓唬您了,请坐,讲给我听。 [点击阅读]
最优美的散文
作者:佚名
章节:93 人气:2
摘要:冬日漫步(1)[美国]亨利·大卫·梭罗亨利·大卫·梭罗(1817—1862),博物学家、散文家、超验现实主义作家。生于美国康科德,毕业于剑桥大学。他是一名虔诚的超验主义信徒,并用毕生的实践来体验这一思想,曾隐居家乡的瓦尔登湖长达两年之久,过着与世隔绝的生活。其代表作《瓦尔登悍又名《乎散记》,是他隐居生活的真实记录。 [点击阅读]