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 SECOND CHAPTER I.FROM CHARYBDIS TO SCYLLA.
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。
  Night comes on early in January.The streets were already dark when Gringoire issued forth from the Courts.This gloom pleased him; he was in haste to reach some obscure and deserted alley, in order there to meditate at his ease, and in order that the philosopher might place the first dressing upon the wound of the poet.philosophy, moreover, was his sole refuge, for he did not know where he was to lodge for the night.After the brilliant failure of his first theatrical venture, he dared not return to the lodging which he occupied in the Rue Grenier-sur-l'Eau, opposite to the port-au-Foin, having depended upon receiving from monsieur the provost for his epithalamium, the wherewithal to pay Master Guillaume Doulx-Sire, farmer of the taxes on cloven-footed animals in paris, the rent which he owed him, that is to say, twelve sols parisian; twelve times the value of all that he possessed in the world, including his trunk-hose, his shirt, and his cap. After reflecting a moment, temporarily sheltered beneath the little wicket of the prison of the treasurer of the Sainte- Chappelle, as to the shelter which he would select for the night, having all the pavements of paris to choose from, he remembered to have noticed the week previously in the Rue de la Savaterie, at the door of a councillor of the parliament, a stepping stone for mounting a mule, and to have said to himself that that stone would furnish, on occasion, a very excellent pillow for a mendicant or a poet.He thanked providence for having sent this happy idea to him; but, as he was preparing to cross the place, in order to reach the tortuous labyrinth of the city, where meander all those old sister streets, the Rues de la Barillerie, de la Vielle-Draperie, de la Savaterie, de la Juiverie, etc., still extant to-day, with their nine-story houses, he saw the procession of the pope of the Fools, which was also emerging from the court house, and rushing across the courtyard, with great cries, a great flashing of torches, and the music which belonged to him, Gringoire. This sight revived the pain of his self-love; he fled.In the bitterness of his dramatic misadventure, everything which reminded him of the festival of that day irritated his wound and made it bleed.58He was on the point of turning to the pont Saint-Michel; children were running about here and there with fire lances and rockets."pest on firework candles!" said Gringoire; and he fell back on the pont au Change.To the house at the head of the bridge there had been affixed three small banners, representing the king, the dauphin, and Marguerite of Flanders, and six little pennons on which were portrayed the Duke of Austria, the Cardinal de Bourbon, M. de Beaujeu, and Madame Jeanne de France, and Monsieur the Bastard of Bourbon, and I know not whom else; all being illuminated with torches. The rabble were admiring."Happy painter, Jehan Fourbault!" said Gringoire with a deep sigh; and he turned his back upon the bannerets and pennons.A street opened before him; he thought it so dark and deserted that he hoped to there escape from all the rumors as well as from all the gleams of the festival.At the end of a few moments his foot came in contact with an obstacle; he stumbled and fell.It was the May truss, which the clerks of the clerks' law court had deposited that morning at the door of a president of the parliament, in honor of the solemnity of the day.Gringoire bore this new disaster heroically; he picked himself up, and reached the water's edge.After leaving behind him the civic Tournelle* and the criminal tower, and skirted the great walls of the king's garden, on that unpaved strand where the mud reached to his ankles, he reached the western point of the city, and considered for some time the islet of the passeur-aux-Vaches, which has disappeared beneath the bronze horse of the pont Neuf.The islet appeared to him in the shadow like a black mass, beyond the narrow strip of whitish water which separated him from it. One could divine by the ray of a tiny light the sort of hut in the form of a beehive where the ferryman of cows took refuge at night.*A chamber of the ancient parliament of paris."Happy ferryman!" thought Gringoire; "you do not dream of glory, and you do not make marriage songs!What matters it to you, if kings and Duchesses of Burgundy marry? You know no other daisies (~marguerites~) than those which your April greensward gives your cows to browse upon; while I, a poet, am hooted, and shiver, and owe twelve sous, and the soles of my shoes are so transparent, that they might serve as glasses for your lantern!Thanks, ferryman, your cabin rests my eyes, and makes me forget paris!"He was roused from his almost lyric ecstacy, by a big double Saint-Jean cracker, which suddenly went off from the happy cabin.It was the cow ferryman, who was taking his part in the rejoicings of the day, and letting off fireworks.This cracker made Gringoire's skin bristle up all over."Accursed festival!" he exclaimed, "wilt thou pursue me everywhere?Oh! good God! even to the ferryman's!"Then he looked at the Seine at his feet, and a horrible temptation took possession of him:"Oh!" said he, "I would gladly drown myself, were the water not so cold!"Then a desperate resolution occurred to him.It was, since he could not escape from the pope of the Fools, from Jehan Fourbault's bannerets, from May trusses, from squibs and crackers, to go to the place de Grève."At least," he said to himself, "I shall there have a firebrand of joy wherewith to warm myself, and I can sup on some crumbs of the three great armorial bearings of royal sugar which have been erected on the public refreshment-stall of the city.
或许您还会喜欢:
我是猫
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:0
摘要:夏目漱石,日本近代作家,生于江户的牛迂马场下横町(今东京都新宿区喜久井町)一个小吏家庭,是家中末子。夏目漱石在日本近代文学史上享有很高的地位,被称为“国民大作家”。代表作有《过了春分时节》《行人》《心》三部曲。 [点击阅读]
我的名字叫红
作者:佚名
章节:58 人气:0
摘要:如今我已是一个死人,成了一具躺在井底的死尸。尽管我已经死了很久,心脏也早已停止了跳动,但除了那个卑鄙的凶手之外没人知道我发生了什么事。而他,那个混蛋,则听了听我是否还有呼吸,摸了摸我的脉搏以确信他是否已把我干掉,之后又朝我的肚子踹了一脚,把我扛到井边,搬起我的身子扔了下去。往下落时,我先前被他用石头砸烂了的脑袋摔裂开来;我的脸、我的额头和脸颊全都挤烂没了;我全身的骨头都散架了,满嘴都是鲜血。 [点击阅读]
我的爸爸是吸血鬼
作者:佚名
章节:81 人气:0
摘要:序幕那是萨瓦纳的一个凉爽春夜,我的母亲走在石子路上,木屐像马蹄似的敲得鹅卵石哒哒响。她穿过一片盛开的杜鹃,再穿过铁兰掩映下的小橡树丛,来到一片绿色空地,边上有一个咖啡馆。我父亲在铁桌旁的一张凳子上坐着,桌上摊了两个棋盘,父亲出了一个车,仰头瞥见了我母亲,手不小心碰到了一个兵,棋子倒在桌面,滑下来,滚到一旁的走道上去了。母亲弯下身子,捡起棋子交还给他。 [点击阅读]
战争与和平
作者:佚名
章节:361 人气:0
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]
户隐传说杀人事件
作者:佚名
章节:10 人气:0
摘要:没有想到拉动门栓时竟然发出惊人的响声,令男子吓了一大跳,好在风声掩去了这一声响,没有惊动房间里的人。从太阳落山的时候起就起风了。风儿摇动着树林里粗壮的树枝。整座山峦开始呼啸,呼啸声掠过屋子的屋顶。已经到了11月的月底,天空却刮起了在这季节里不可能出现的南风。据村子里的老人说,现在这个时候刮这样的风,不是一个好兆头。但愿这不是出事的征兆。对男子来说,就是靠着这风声,才使他在拉动门栓时没有被人发现。 [点击阅读]
手机
作者:佚名
章节:35 人气:0
摘要:“脉冲”事件发生于十月一日下午东部标准时间三点零三分。这个名称显然不当,但在事情发生后的十小时内,大多数能够指出这个错误的科学家们要么死亡要么疯癫。无论如何,名称其实并不重要,重要的是影响。那天下午三点,一位籍籍无名的年轻人正意气风发地在波士顿的波伊斯顿大街上往东走。他名叫克雷顿·里德尔,脸上一副心满意足的样子,步伐也特别矫健。他左手提着一个艺术家的画夹,关上再拉上拉链就成了一个旅行箱。 [点击阅读]
拇指一竖
作者:佚名
章节:17 人气:0
摘要:贝瑞福夫妇对坐在早餐桌前,他们和普通的夫妇没什么不同,这时候,全英格兰至少有好几百对像他们这样上了年纪的夫妻正在吃早餐,这一天,也是个很普通的日子——一星期七天之中,至少有五个这样的日子。天空阴沉沉的,看起来像是会下雨,不过谁也没把握。 [点击阅读]
拉贝日记
作者:佚名
章节:32 人气:0
摘要:胡绳60年前,侵华日军制造的南京大屠杀惨案,是日本法西斯在中国所犯严重罪行之一,是中国现代史上极其惨痛的一页。虽然日本当时当权者和以后当权者中的许多人竭力否认有这样的惨案,企图隐瞒事实真相,但事实就是事实,不断有身经这个惨案的人(包括当时的日本军人)提供了揭露惨案真相的材料。最近,江苏人民出版社和江苏教育出版社共同翻译出版了《拉贝日记》。 [点击阅读]
挪威的森林
作者:佚名
章节:20 人气:0
摘要:编者语我们为什么选择村上春树?不是因为他连获日本文艺界的奖项:也不是因为他的作品高居日本畅销书榜首:更不是因为他的作品掀起年轻一代的抢购热潮,突破四百万部的销量!那么,为什么?答案是:他和他的作品带给我们思想的特异空间,而轻描淡写的日常生活片断唤起的生活气氛令我们有所共鸣。更重要的是他以六十年代的背景道出九十年代,甚至世世代代的年轻心声。 [点击阅读]
推销员之死
作者:佚名
章节:22 人气:0
摘要:前言阿瑟·米勒,美国剧作家,1915年出生在纽约一个犹太人中产阶级家庭,父亲是一个时装商人,他在哈莱姆上小学,布鲁克林上中学,中学毕业以后工作了两年,后来进入密执根大学,大学期间开始戏剧创作,写了4部剧本,并两次获奖。他第一部在百老汇上演的剧作是《鸿运高照的人》(1944),成名作是1947年创作的《全是我的儿子》,作品获当年度的纽约剧评界奖。 [点击阅读]