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 SIXTH CHAPTER III.HISTORY OF A LEAVENED CAKE OF MAIZE.
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。
  At the epoch of this history, the cell in the Tour-Roland was occupied.If the reader desires to know by whom, he has only to lend an ear to the conversation of three worthy gossips, who, at the moment when we have directed his attention to the Rat-Hole, were directing their steps towards the same spot, coming up along the water's edge from the Chatelet, towards the Grève.Two of these women were dressed like good ~bourgeoises~ of paris.Their fine white ruffs; their petticoats of linsey- woolsey, striped red and blue; their white knitted stockings, with clocks embroidered in colors, well drawn upon their legs; the square-toed shoes of tawny leather with black soles, and, above all, their headgear, that sort of tinsel horn, loaded down with ribbons and laces, which the women of Champagne still wear, in company with the grenadiers of the imperial guard of Russia, announced that they belonged to that class wives which holds the middle ground between what the lackeys call a woman and what they term a lady.They wore neither rings nor gold crosses, and it was easy to see that, in their ease, this did not proceed from poverty, but simply from fear of being fined.Their companion was attired in very much the same manner; but there was that indescribable something about her dress and bearing which suggested the wife of a provincial notary.One could see, by the way in which her girdle rose above her hips, that she had not been long in paris.--Add to this a plaited tucker, knots of ribbon on her shoes--and that the stripes of her petticoat ran horizontally instead of vertically, and a thousand other enormities which shocked good taste.The two first walked with that step peculiar to parisian ladies, showing paris to women from the country.The provincial held by the hand a big boy, who held in his a large, flat cake.We regret to be obliged to add, that, owing to the rigor of the season, he was using his tongue as a handkerchief.The child was making them drag him along, ~non passibus Cequis~, as Virgil says, and stumbling at every moment, to the great indignation of his mother.It is true that he was looking at his cake more than at the pavement.Some serious motive, no doubt, prevented his biting it (the cake), for he contented himself with gazing tenderly at it.But the mother should have rather taken charge of the cake.It was cruel to make a Tantalus of the chubby-checked boy.Meanwhile, the three demoiselles (for the name of dames was then reserved for noble women) were all talking at once."Let us make haste, Demoiselle Mahiette," said the youngest of the three, who was also the largest, to the provincial, "I greatly fear that we shall arrive too late; they told us at the Chatelet that they were going to take him directly to the pillory.""Ah, bah! what are you saying, Demoiselle Oudarde Musnier?" interposed the other parisienne."There are two hours yet to the pillory.We have time enough.Have you ever seen any one pilloried, my dear Mahiette?""Yes," said the provincial, "at Reims.""Ah, bah!What is your pillory at Reims?A miserable cage into which only peasants are turned.A great affair, truly!""Only peasants!" said Mahiette, "at the cloth market in Reims!We have seen very fine criminals there, who have killed their father and mother!peasants!For what do you take us, Gervaise?"It is certain that the provincial was on the point of taking offence, for the honor of her pillory.Fortunately, that discreet damoiselle, Oudarde Musnier, turned the conversation in time."By the way, Damoiselle Mahiette, what say you to our Flemish Ambassadors?Have you as fine ones at Reims?""I admit," replied Mahiette, "that it is only in paris that such Flemings can be seen.""Did you see among the embassy, that big ambassador who is a hosier?" asked Oudarde."Yes," said Mahiette."He has the eye of a Saturn.""And the big fellow whose face resembles a bare belly?" resumed Gervaise."And the little one, with small eyes framed in red eyelids, pared down and slashed up like a thistle head?""'Tis their horses that are worth seeing," said Oudarde, "caparisoned as they are after the fashion of their country!""Ah my dear," interrupted provincial Mahiette, assuming in her turn an air of superiority, "what would you say then, if you had seen in '61, at the consecration at Reims, eighteen years ago, the horses of the princes and of the king's company?Housings and caparisons of all sorts; some of damask cloth, of fine cloth of gold, furred with sables; others of velvet, furred with ermine; others all embellished with goldsmith's work and large bells of gold and silver!And what money that had cost!And what handsome boy pages rode upon them!""That," replied Oudarde dryly, "does not prevent the Flemings having very fine horses, and having had a superb supper yesterday with monsieur, the provost of the merchants, at the H?tel-de-Ville, where they were served with comfits and hippocras, and spices, and other singularities.""What are you saying, neighbor!" exclaimed Gervaise. "It was with monsieur the cardinal, at the petit Bourbon that they supped.""Not at all.At the H?tel-de-Ville."Yes, indeed.At the petit Bourbon!""It was at the H?tel-de-Ville," retorted Oudarde sharply, "and Dr. Scourable addressed them a harangue in Latin, which pleased them greatly.My husband, who is sworn bookseller told me.""It was at the petit Bourbon," replied Gervaise, with no less spirit, "and this is what monsieur the cardinal's procurator presented to them: twelve double quarts of hippocras, white, claret, and red; twenty-four boxes of double Lyons marchpane, gilded; as many torches, worth two livres a piece; and six demi-queues* of Beaune wine, white and claret, the best that could be found.I have it from my husband, who is a cinquantenier**, at the parloir-aux Bourgeois, and who was this morning comparing the Flemish ambassadors with those of prester John and the Emperor of Trebizond, who came from Mesopotamia to paris, under the last king, and who wore rings in their ears."*A Queue was a cask which held a hogshead and a half.**A captain of fifty men."So true is it that they supped at the H?tel-de-Ville," replied Oudarde but little affected by this catalogue, "that such a triumph of viands and comfits has never been seen.""I tell you that they were served by Le Sec, sergeant of the city, at the H?tel du petit-Bourbon, and that that is where you are mistaken.""At the H?tel-de-Ville, I tell you!""At the petit-Bourbon, my dear! and they had illuminated with magic glasses the word hope, which is written on the grand portal.""At the H?tel-de-Ville!At the H?tel-de-Ville!And Husson-le-Voir played the flute!""I tell you, no!""I tell you, yes!""I say, no!"plump and worthy Oudarde was preparing to retort, and the quarrel might, perhaps, have proceeded to a pulling of caps, had not Mahiette suddenly exclaimed,--"Look at those people assembled yonder at the end of the bridge!There is something in their midst that they are looking at!""In sooth," said Gervaise, "I hear the sounds of a tambourine.I believe 'tis the little Esmeralda, who plays her mummeries with her goat.Eh, be quick, Mahiette! redouble your pace and drag along your boy.You are come hither to visit the curiosities of paris.You saw the Flemings yesterday; you must see the gypsy to-day.""The gypsy!" said Mahiette, suddenly retracing her steps, and clasping her son's arm forcibly."God preserve me from it!She would steal my child from me!Come, Eustache!"And she set out on a run along the quay towards the Grève, until she had left the bridge far behind her.In the meanwhile, the child whom she was dragging after her fell upon his knees; she halted breathless.Oudarde and Gervaise rejoined her."That gypsy steal your child from you!" said Gervaise. "That's a singular freak of yours!"Mahiette shook her head with a pensive air."The singular point is," observed Oudarde, "that ~la sachette~ has the same idea about the Egyptian woman.""What is ~la sachette~?" asked Mahiette."Hé!" said Oudarde, "Sister Gudule.""And who is Sister Gudule?" persisted Mahiette."You are certainly ignorant of all but your Reims, not to know that!" replied Oudarde."'Tis the recluse of the Rat-Hole.""What!" demanded Mahiette, "that poor woman to whom we are carrying this cake?"Oudarde nodded affirmatively."precisely.You will see her presently at her window on the Grève.She has the same opinion as yourself of these vagabonds of Egypt, who play the tambourine and tell fortunes to the public.No one knows whence comes her horror of the gypsies and Egyptians.But you, Mahiette--why do you run so at the mere sight of them?""Oh!" said Mahiette, seizing her child's round head in both hands, "I don't want that to happen to me which happened to paquette la Chantefleurie.""Oh! you must tell us that story, my good Mahiette," said Gervaise, taking her arm."Gladly," replied Mahiette, "but you must be ignorant of all but your paris not to know that!I will tell you then (but 'tis not necessary for us to halt that I may tell you the tale), that paquette la Chantefleurie was a pretty maid of eighteen when I was one myself, that is to say, eighteen years ago, and 'tis her own fault if she is not to-day, like me, a good, plump, fresh mother of six and thirty, with a husband and a son. However, after the age of fourteen, it was too late!Well, she was the daughter of Guybertant, minstrel of the barges at Reims, the same who had played before King Charles VII., at his coronation, when he descended our river Vesle from Sillery to Muison, when Madame the Maid of Orleans was also in the boat.The old father died when paquette was still a mere child; she had then no one but her mother, the sister of M. pradon, master-brazier and coppersmith in paris, Rue Farm- Garlin, who died last year.You see she was of good family. The mother was a good simple woman, unfortunately, and she taught paquette nothing but a bit of embroidery and toy-making which did not prevent the little one from growing very large and remaining very poor.They both dwelt at Reims, on the river front, Rue de Folle-peine.Mark this: For I believe it was this which brought misfortune to paquette. In '61, the year of the coronation of our King Louis XI. whom God preserve! paquette was so gay and so pretty that she was called everywhere by no other name than "la Chantefleurie"--blossoming song.poor girl!She had handsome teeth, she was fond of laughing and displaying them.Now, a maid who loves to laugh is on the road to weeping; handsome teeth ruin handsome eyes.So she was la Chantefleurie.She and her mother earned a precarious living; they had been very destitute since the death of the minstrel; their embroidery did not bring them in more than six farthings a week, which does not amount to quite two eagle liards.Where were the days when Father Guybertant had earned twelve sous parisian, in a single coronation, with a song?One winter (it was in that same year of '61), when the two women had neither fagots nor firewood, it was very cold, which gave la Chantefleurie such a fine color that the men called her paquette!* and many called her pàquerette!** and she was ruined.--Eustache, just let me see you bite that cake if you dare!--We immediately perceived that she was ruined, one Sunday when she came to church with a gold cross about her neck. At fourteen years of age! do you see?First it was the young Vicomte de Cormontreuil, who has his bell tower three leagues distant from Reims; then Messire Henri de Triancourt, equerry to the King; then less than that, Chiart de Beaulion, sergeant-at-arms; then, still descending, Guery Aubergeon, carver to the King; then, Mace de Frépus, barber to monsieur the dauphin; then, Thévenin le Moine, King's cook; then, the men growing continually younger and less noble, she fell to Guillaume Racine, minstrel of the hurdy gurdy and to Thierry de Mer, lamplighter.Then, poor Chantefleurie, she belonged to every one: she had reached the last sou of her gold piece.What shall I say to you, my damoiselles?At the coronation, in the same year, '61, 'twas she who made the bed of the king of the debauchees!In the same year!"*Ox-eye daisy.**Easter daisy.Mahiette sighed, and wiped away a tear which trickled from her eyes."This is no very extraordinary history," said Gervaise, "and in the whole of it I see nothing of any Egyptian women or children.""patience!" resumed Mahiette, "you will see one child.--In '66, 'twill be sixteen years ago this month, at Sainte- paule's day, paquette was brought to bed of a little girl. The unhappy creature! it was a great joy to her; she had long wished for a child.Her mother, good woman, who had never known what to do except to shut her eyes, her mother was dead.paquette had no longer any one to love in the world or any one to love her.La Chantefleurie had been a poor creature during the five years since her fall.She was alone, alone in this life, fingers were pointed at her, she was hooted at in the streets, beaten by the sergeants, jeered at by the little boys in rags.And then, twenty had arrived: and twenty is an old age for amorous women.Folly began to bring her in no more than her trade of embroidery in former days; for every wrinkle that came, a crown fled; winter became hard to her once more, wood became rare again in her brazier, and bread in her cupboard.She could no longer work because, in becoming voluptuous, she had grown lazy; and she suffered much more because, in growing lazy, she had become voluptuous. At least, that is the way in which monsieur the cure of Saint-Remy explains why these women are colder and hungrier than other poor women, when they are old.""Yes," remarked Gervaise, "but the gypsies?""One moment, Gervaise!" said Oudarde, whose attention was less impatient."What would be left for the end if all were in the beginning?Continue, Mahiette, I entreat you. That poor Chantefleurie!"Mahiette went on."So she was very sad, very miserable, and furrowed her cheeks with tears.But in the midst of her shame, her folly, her debauchery, it seemed to her that she should be less wild, less shameful, less dissipated, if there were something or some one in the world whom she could love, and who could love her.It was necessary that it should be a child, because only a child could be sufficiently innocent for that.She had recognized this fact after having tried to love a thief, the only man who wanted her; but after a short time, she perceived that the thief despised her.Those women of love require either a lover or a child to fill their hearts.Otherwise, they are very unhappy.As she could not have a lover, she turned wholly towards a desire for a child, and as she had not ceased to be pious, she made her constant prayer to the good God for it.So the good God took pity on her, and gave her a little daughter.I will not speak to you of her joy; it was a fury of tears, and caresses, and kisses.She nursed her child herself, made swaddling-bands for it out of her coverlet, the only one which she had on her bed, and no longer felt either cold or hunger.She became beautiful once more, in consequence of it.An old maid makes a young mother.Gallantry claimed her once more; men came to see la Chantefleurie; she found customers again for her merchandise, and out of all these horrors she made baby clothes, caps and bibs, bodices with shoulder-straps of lace, and tiny bonnets of satin, without even thinking of buying herself another coverlet.--Master Eustache, I have already told you not to eat that cake.--It is certain that little Agnes, that was the child's name, a baptismal name, for it was a long time since la Chantefleurie had had any surname--it is certain that that little one was more swathed in ribbons and embroideries than a dauphiness of Dauphiny!Among other things, she had a pair of little shoes, the like of which King Louis XI. certainly never had!Her mother had stitched and embroidered them herself; she had lavished on them all the delicacies of her art of embroideress, and all the embellishments of a robe for the good Virgin.They certainly were the two prettiest little pink shoes that could be seen.They were no longer than my thumb, and one had to see the child's little feet come out of them, in order to believe that they had been able to get into them.'Tis true that those little feet were so small, so pretty, so rosy! rosier than the satin of the shoes!When you have children, Oudarde, you will find that there is nothing prettier than those little hands and feet.""I ask no better," said Oudarde with a sigh, "but I am waiting until it shall suit the good pleasure of M. Andry Musnier.""However, paquette's child had more that was pretty about it besides its feet.I saw her when she was only four months old; she was a love!She had eyes larger than her mouth, and the most charming black hair, which already curled.She would have been a magnificent brunette at the age of sixteen! Her mother became more crazy over her every day.She kissed her, caressed her, tickled her, washed her, decked her out, devoured her!She lost her head over her, she thanked God for her.Her pretty, little rosy feet above all were an endless source of wonderment, they were a delirium of joy! She was always pressing her lips to them, and she could never recover from her amazement at their smallness.She put them into the tiny shoes, took them out, admired them, marvelled at them, looked at the light through them, was curious to see them try to walk on her bed, and would gladly have passed her life on her knees, putting on and taking off the shoes from those feet, as though they had been those of an Infant Jesus.""The tale is fair and good," said Gervaise in a low tone; "but where do gypsies come into all that?""Here," replied Mahiette."One day there arrived in Reims a very queer sort of people.They were beggars and vagabonds who were roaming over the country, led by their duke and their counts.They were browned by exposure to the sun, they had closely curling hair, and silver rings in their ears.The women were still uglier than the men.They had blacker faces, which were always uncovered, a miserable frock on their bodies, an old cloth woven of cords bound upon their shoulder, and their hair hanging like the tail of a horse.The children who scrambled between their legs would have frightened as many monkeys.A band of excommunicates. All these persons came direct from lower Egypt to Reims through poland.The pope had confessed them, it was said, and had prescribed to them as penance to roam through the world for seven years, without sleeping in a bed; and so they were called penancers, and smelt horribly.It appears that they had formerly been Saracens, which was why they believed in Jupiter, and claimed ten livres of Tournay from all archbishops, bishops, and mitred abbots with croziers. A bull from the pope empowered them to do that.They came to Reims to tell fortunes in the name of the King of Algiers, and the Emperor of Germany.You can readily imagine that no more was needed to cause the entrance to the town to be forbidden them.Then the whole band camped with good grace outside the gate of Braine, on that hill where stands a mill, beside the cavities of the ancient chalk pits.And everybody in Reims vied with his neighbor in going to see them. They looked at your hand, and told you marvellous prophecies; they were equal to predicting to Judas that he would become pope.Nevertheless, ugly rumors were in circulation in regard to them; about children stolen, purses cut, and human flesh devoured.The wise people said to the foolish: "Don't go there!" and then went themselves on the sly.It was an infatuation.The fact is, that they said things fit to astonish a cardinal.Mothers triumphed greatly over their little ones after the Egyptians had read in their hands all sorts of marvels written in pagan and in Turkish.One had an emperor; another, a pope; another, a captain.poor Chantefleurie was seized with curiosity; she wished to know about herself, and whether her pretty little Agnes would not become some day Empress of Armenia, or something else.So she carried her to the Egyptians; and the Egyptian women fell to admiring the child, and to caressing it, and to kissing it with their black mouths, and to marvelling over its little band, alas! to the great joy of the mother.They were especially enthusiastic over her pretty feet and shoes.The child was not yet a year old.She already lisped a little, laughed at her mother like a little mad thing, was plump and quite round, and possessed a thousand charming little gestures of the angels of paradise.
或许您还会喜欢:
零的焦点
作者:佚名
章节:13 人气:0
摘要:秋天,经人做媒,板根祯子和鹈原宪一订了婚。祯子二十六岁,鹈原三十六岁。年龄倒很相配,但社会上看来,结婚似乎晚了点。“三十六岁还打光棍,不知过去有过什么事?”提亲时,祯子的母亲最为介意。也许有过什么事,三十六岁还没有碰过女人,似乎说不过去。但媒人说绝对没有。好像是在撒谎。作为一男人,也太懦弱了。工作已经多年,置身于男人世界里的份子是这样想的。事实上,和女人完全没交往的男人,会叫人瞧不起。 [点击阅读]
霍乱时期的爱情
作者:佚名
章节:42 人气:0
摘要:第一章(一)这些地方的变化日新月异,它们已有了戴王冠的仙女。——莱昂德罗·迪亚斯这是确定无疑的:苦扁桃的气息总勾起他对情场失意的结局的回忆。胡维纳尔?乌尔比诺医生刚走进那个半明半暗的房间就悟到了这一点。他匆匆忙忙地赶到那里本是为了进行急救,但那件多年以来使他是心的事已经不可挽回了。 [点击阅读]
霍桑短篇作品选
作者:佚名
章节:28 人气:0
摘要:01牧师的黑面纱①①新英格兰缅因州约克县有位约瑟夫·穆迪牧师,约摸八十年前去世。他与这里所讲的胡珀牧师有相同的怪癖,引人注目。不过,他的面纱含义不同。年轻时,他因失手杀死一位好友,于是从那天直到死,都戴着面纱,不让人看到他面孔。——作者注一个寓言米尔福礼拜堂的门廊上,司事正忙着扯开钟绳。 [点击阅读]
霍比特人
作者:佚名
章节:50 人气:0
摘要:在地底洞穴中住着一名哈比人。这可不是那种又脏又臭又湿,长满了小虫,满是腐败气味的洞穴;但是,它也并非是那种空旷多沙、了无生气、没有家具的无聊洞穴。这是个哈比人居住的洞穴,也是舒舒服服的同义词。这座洞穴有个像是舷窗般浑圆、漆成绿色的大门,在正中央有个黄色的闪亮门把。 [点击阅读]
青年近卫军
作者:佚名
章节:69 人气:0
摘要:亚·法捷耶夫(1901年12月24日——1956年5月13日)全名亚历山德罗维奇·法捷耶夫。他是俄罗斯古典文学传亚·法捷耶夫统的继承者,是苏联社会主义现实主义文学的杰出代表之一。他的作品是在社会主义革命精神鼓舞下写成的;他笔下的主人公们是为建设新生活而斗争的英勇战士。 [点击阅读]
青春咖啡馆
作者:佚名
章节:14 人气:0
摘要:那家咖啡馆有两道门,她总是从最窄的那扇门进出,那扇门人称黑暗之门。咖啡厅很小,她总是在小厅最里端的同一张桌子旁落座。初来乍到的那段时光,她从不跟任何人搭讪,日子一长,她认识了孔岱咖啡馆里的那些常客,他们中的大多数人跟我们年纪相仿,我的意思是说,我们都在十九到二十五岁之间。有时候,她会坐到他们中间去,但大部分时间里,她还是喜欢坐她自己的那个专座,也就是说坐最里端的那个位子。她来咖啡馆的时间也不固定。 [点击阅读]
静静的顿河
作者:佚名
章节:66 人气:0
摘要:评论重读《静静的顿河》,那些久违了的又陌生又熟悉的人物,以及他们痛苦的思想和命运,又一次激起了我内心的热情。顿河这条伟大的河流所哺育的哥萨克民族通过战争,在痛苦和流血之后最终走向了社会主义。肖洛霍夫把拥护苏维埃、迈向社会主义称为伟大的人类真理,并把它作为作品的主题之一。肖洛霍夫对顿河无比热爱,书中经常出现作者对顿河发自内心的充满激*情的赞颂。顿河草原上散发出的青草和泥土的浓烈味道,让读者过目不忘。 [点击阅读]
面纱
作者:佚名
章节:8 人气:0
摘要:1她惊叫了一声。“怎么啦?”他问道。房间里的百叶窗关着,光线很暗,但还是能看清她脸上恐惧的表情。“刚才有人动了一下门。”“呃,八成是女佣人,要不就是哪个童仆。”“这个时候他们决不会来。他们都知道吃完午饭我要睡觉。”“那还会是谁?”“是瓦尔特。”她嘴唇颤抖着小声说道。她用手指了指他的鞋。他便去穿鞋,但他的神经多少也有点紧张,因而显得笨手笨脚,而鞋带偏偏又是系着的。 [点击阅读]
风流狂女的复仇
作者:佚名
章节:9 人气:0
摘要:1矮男子闯进来了。矮男子头上蒙着面纱。“不许动!动就杀死你们!”矮男子手中握着尖头菜刀,声调带有奇怪的咬舌音。房间里有六个男人。桌子上堆放着成捆的钱。六个人正在清点。一共有一亿多日元。其中大半已经清点完毕。六个人一起站起来。房间的门本来是上了锁的,而且门前布置了警备员。矮男子一定是一声不响地把警备员打倒或杀死了,不然的话,是不会进房间里来的。六个人不能不对此感到恐惧。 [点击阅读]
风葬之城
作者:佚名
章节:8 人气:0
摘要:雪江从早上开始心情就不好。要是平常的话,肯定会训斥浅见睡懒觉的,可是今天她看见小儿子,露出一副无奈的神情,转身就回自己的房里去了。听佣人须美子说,雪江连早饭也没吃。“我妈她怎么了?”“牙疼。”“是嘛?……”浅见似乎有点幸灾乐祸似地反问道。“是的,听夫人说,装的假牙不好,像针扎似地痛。”“哦,是那样啊,牙不好。 [点击阅读]