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 EIGHTH CHAPTER VI.THREE HUMAN HEARTS DIFFERENTLY CONSTR
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。
  phoebus was not dead, however.Men of that stamp die hard.When Master philippe Lheulier, advocate extraordinary of the king, had said to poor Esmeralda; "He is dying," it was an error or a jest.When the archdeacon had repeated to the condemned girl; "He is dead," the fact is that he knew nothing about it, but that he believed it, that he counted on it, that he did not doubt it, that he devoutly hoped it.It would have been too hard for him to give favorable news of his rival to the woman whom he loved. Any man would have done the same in his place.It was not that phoebus's wound had not been serious, but it had not been as much so as the archdeacon believed.The physician, to whom the soldiers of the watch had carried him at the first moment, had feared for his life during the space of a week, and had even told him so in Latin.But youth had gained the upper hand; and, as frequently happens, in spite of prognostications and diagnoses, nature had amused herself by saving the sick man under the physician's very nose.It was while he was still lying on the leech's pallet that he had submitted to the interrogations of philippe Lheulier and the official inquisitors, which had annoyed him greatly.Hence, one fine morning, feeling himself better, he had left his golden spurs with the leech as payment, and had slipped away.This had not, however, interfered with the progress of the affair.Justice, at that epoch, troubled itself very little about the clearness and definiteness of a criminal suit.provided that the accused was hung, that was all that was necessary.Now the judge had plenty of proofs against la Esmeralda.They had supposed phoebus to be dead, and that was the end of the matter.phoebus, on his side, had not fled far.He had simply rejoined his company in garrison at Queue-en-Brie, in the Isle-de-France, a few stages from paris.After all, it did not please him in the least to appear in this suit.He had a vague feeling that be should play a ridiculous figure in it.On the whole, he did not know what to think of the whole affair.Superstitious, and not given to devoutness, like every soldier who is only a soldier, when he came to question himself about this adventure, he did not feel assured as to the goat, as to the singular fashion in which he had met La Esmeralda, as to the no less strange manner in which she had allowed him to divine her love, as to her character as a gypsy, and lastly, as to the surly monk. He perceived in all these incidents much more magic than love, probably a sorceress, perhaps the devil; a comedy, in short, or to speak in the language of that day, a very disagreeable mystery, in which he played a very awkward part, the role of blows and derision.The captain was quite put out of countenance about it; he experienced that sort of shame which our La Fontaine has so admirably defined,--Ashamed as a fox who has been caught by a fowl.Moreover, he hoped that the affair would not get noised abroad, that his name would hardly be pronounced in it, and that in any case it would not go beyond the courts of the Tournelle.In this he was not mistaken, there was then no "Gazette des Tribunaux;" and as not a week passed which had not its counterfeiter to boil, or its witch to hang, or its heretic to burn, at some one of the innumerable justices of paris, people were so accustomed to seeing in all the squares the ancient feudal Themis, bare armed, with sleeves stripped up, performing her duty at the gibbets, the ladders, and the pillories, that they hardly paid any heed to it.Fashionable society of that day hardly knew the name of the victim who passed by at the corner of the street, and it was the populace at the most who regaled themselves with this coarse fare.An execution was an habitual incident of the public highways, like the braising-pan of the baker or the slaughter-house of the knacker.The executioner was only a sort of butcher of a little deeper dye than the rest.Hence phoebus's mind was soon at ease on the score of the enchantress Esmeralda, or Similar, as he called her, concerning the blow from the dagger of the Bohemian or of the surly monk (it mattered little which to him), and as to the issue of the trial.But as soon as his heart was vacant in that direction, Fleur-de-Lys returned to it.Captain phoebus's heart, like the physics of that day, abhorred a vacuum.Queue-en-Brie was a very insipid place to stay at then, a village of farriers, and cow-girls with chapped hands, a long line of poor dwellings and thatched cottages, which borders the grand road on both sides for half a league; a tail (queue), in short, as its name imports.Fleur-de-Lys was his last passion but one, a pretty girl, a charming dowry; accordingly, one fine morning, quite cured, and assuming that, after the lapse of two months, the Bohemian affair must be completely finished and forgotten, the amorous cavalier arrived on a prancing horse at the door of the Gondelaurier mansion.He paid no attention to a tolerably numerous rabble which had assembled in the place du parvis, before the portal of Notre-Dame; he remembered that it was the month of May; he supposed that it was some procession, some pentecost, some festival, hitched his horse to the ring at the door, and gayly ascended the stairs to his beautiful betrothed.She was alone with her mother.The scene of the witch, her goat, her cursed alphabet, and phoebus's long absences, still weighed on Fleur-de-Lys's heart. Nevertheless, when she beheld her captain enter, she thought him so handsome, his doublet so new, his baldrick so shining, and his air so impassioned, that she blushed with pleasure. The noble damsel herself was more charming than ever.Her magnificent blond hair was plaited in a ravishing manner, she was dressed entirely in that sky blue which becomes fair people so well, a bit of coquetry which she had learned from Colombe, and her eyes were swimming in that languor of love which becomes them still better.phoebus, who had seen nothing in the line of beauty, since he left the village maids of Queue-en-Brie, was intoxicated with Fleur-de-Lys, which imparted to our officer so eager and gallant an air, that his peace was immediately made.Madame de Gondelaurier herself, still maternally seated in her big arm- chair, had not the heart to scold him.As for Fleur-de-Lys's reproaches, they expired in tender cooings.The young girl was seated near the window still embroidering her grotto of Neptune.The captain was leaning over the back of her chair, and she was addressing her caressing reproaches to him in a low voice."What has become of you these two long months, wicked man?""I swear to you," replied phoebus, somewhat embarrassed by the question, "that you are beautiful enough to set an archbishop to dreaming."She could not repress a smile."Good, good, sir.Let my beauty alone and answer my question.A fine beauty, in sooth!""Well, my dear cousin, I was recalled to the garrison."And where is that, if you please?and why did not you come to say farewell?""At Queue-en-Brie."phoebus was delighted with the first question, which helped him to avoid the second."But that is quite close by, monsieur.Why did you not come to see me a single time?"Here phoebus was rather seriously embarrassed."Because--the service--and then, charming cousin, I have been ill.""Ill!" she repeated in alarm."Yes, wounded!""Wounded!"She poor child was completely upset."Oh! do not be frightened at that," said phoebus, carelessly, "it was nothing.A quarrel, a sword cut; what is that to you?""What is that to me?" exclaimed Fleur-de-Lys, raising her beautiful eyes filled with tears."Oh! you do not say what you think when you speak thus.What sword cut was that? I wish to know all.""Well, my dear fair one, I had a falling out with Mahè Fédy, you know?the lieutenant of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, and we ripped open a few inches of skin for each other.That is all."The mendacious captain was perfectly well aware that an affair of honor always makes a man stand well in the eyes of a woman.In fact, Fleur-de-Lys looked him full in the face, all agitated with fear, pleasure, and admiration.Still, she was not completely reassured."provided that you are wholly cured, my phoebus!" said she."I do not know your Mahè Fédy, but he is a villanous man.And whence arose this quarrel?"Here phoebus, whose imagination was endowed with but mediocre power of creation, began to find himself in a quandary as to a means of extricating himself for his prowess."Oh! how do I know?--a mere nothing, a horse, a remark! Fair cousin," he exclaimed, for the sake of changing the conversation, "what noise is this in the Cathedral Square?"He approached the window."Oh!~Mon Dieu~, fair cousin, how many people there are on the place!""I know not," said Fleur-de-Lys; "it appears that a witch is to do penance this morning before the church, and thereafter to be hung."The captain was so thoroughly persuaded that la Esmeralda's affair was concluded, that he was but little disturbed by Fleur- de-Lys's words.Still, he asked her one or two questions."What is the name of this witch?""I do not know," she replied."And what is she said to have done?"She shrugged her white shoulders."I know not.""Oh, ~mon Dieu~ Jesus!" said her mother; "there are so many witches nowadays that I dare say they burn them without knowing their names.One might as well seek the name of every cloud in the sky.After all, one may be tranquil. The good God keeps his register."Here the venerable dame rose and came to the window."Good Lord!you are right, phoebus," said she."The rabble is indeed great.There are people on all the roofs, blessed be God!Do you know, phoebus, this reminds me of my best days.The entrance of King Charles VII., when, also, there were many people.I no longer remember in what year that was.When I speak of this to you, it produces upon you the effect,--does it not?--the effect of something very old, and upon me of something very young.Oh! the crowd was far finer than at the present day. They even stood upon the machicolations of the porte Sainte- Antoine.The king had the queen on a pillion, and after their highnesses came all the ladies mounted behind all the lords.I remember that they laughed loudly, because beside Amanyon de Garlande, who was very short of stature, there rode the Sire Matefelon, a chevalier of gigantic size, who had killed heaps of English.It was very fine.A procession of all the gentlemen of France, with their oriflammes waving red before the eye.There were some with pennons and some with banners.How can I tell? the Sire de Calm with a pennon; Jean de Chateaumorant with a banner; the Sire de Courcy with a banner, and a more ample one than any of the others except the Duc de Bourbon.Alas! 'tis a sad thing to think that all that has existed and exists no longer!"The two lovers were not listening to the venerable dowager.phoebus had returned and was leaning on the back of his betrothed's chair, a charming post whence his libertine glance plunged into all the openings of Fleur-de-Lys's gorget. This gorget gaped so conveniently, and allowed him to see so many exquisite things and to divine so many more, that phoebus, dazzled by this skin with its gleams of satin, said to himself, "How can any one love anything but a fair skin?"Both were silent.The young girl raised sweet, enraptured eyes to him from time to time, and their hair mingled in a ray of spring sunshine."phoebus," said Fleur-de-Lys suddenly, in a low voice, "we are to be married three months hence; swear to me that you have never loved any other woman than myself.""I swear it, fair angel!" replied phoebus, and his passionate glances aided the sincere tone of his voice in convincing Fleur-de-Lys.Meanwhile, the good mother, charmed to see the betrothed pair on terms of such perfect understanding, had just quitted the apartment to attend to some domestic matter; phoebus observed it, and this so emboldened the adventurous captain that very strange ideas mounted to his brain.Fleur-de-Lys loved him, he was her betrothed; she was alone with him; his former taste for her had re-awakened, not with all its fresh- ness but with all its ardor; after all, there is no great harm in tasting one's wheat while it is still in the blade; I do not know whether these ideas passed through his mind, but one thing is certain, that Fleur-de-Lys was suddenly alarmed by the expression of his glance.She looked round and saw that her mother was no longer there."Good heavens!" said she, blushing and uneasy, "how very warm I am?""I think, in fact," replied phoebus, "that it cannot be far from midday.The sun is troublesome.We need only lower the curtains.""No, no," exclaimed the poor little thing, "on the contrary, I need air."And like a fawn who feels the breath of the pack of hounds, she rose, ran to the window, opened it, and rushed upon the balcony.phoebus, much discomfited, followed her.The place du parvis Notre-Dame, upon which the balcony looked, as the reader knows, presented at that moment a singular and sinister spectacle which caused the fright of the timid Fleur-de-Lys to change its nature.An immense crowd, which overflowed into all the neighboring streets, encumbered the place, properly speaking.The little wall, breast high, which surrounded the place, would not have sufficed to keep it free had it not been lined with a thick hedge of sergeants and hackbuteers, culverines in hand.Thanks to this thicket of pikes and arquebuses, the parvis was empty.Its entrance was guarded by a force of halberdiers with the armorial bearings of the bishop.The large doors of the church were closed, and formed a contrast with the innumerable windows on the place, which, open to their very gables, allowed a view of thousands of heads heaped up almost like the piles of bullets in a park of artillery.The surface of this rabble was dingy, dirty, earthy.The spectacle which it was expecting was evidently one of the sort which possess the privilege of bringing out and calling together the vilest among the populace.Nothing is so hideous as the noise which was made by that swarm of yellow caps and dirty heads.In that throng there were more laughs than cries, more women than men.From time to time, a sharp and vibrating voice pierced the general clamor."Ohé!Mahiet Baliffre!Is she to be hung yonder?""Fool! t'is here that she is to make her apology in her shift! the good God is going to cough Latin in her face! That is always done here, at midday.If 'tis the gallows that you wish, go to the Grève.""I will go there, afterwards.""Tell me, la Boucanbry?Is it true that she has refused a confessor?""It appears so, La Bechaigne.""You see what a pagan she is!""'Tis the custom, monsieur.The bailiff of the courts is bound to deliver the malefactor ready judged for execution if he be a layman, to the provost of paris; if a clerk, to the official of the bishopric.""Thank you, sir.""Oh, God!" said Fleur-de-Lys, "the poor creature!"This thought filled with sadness the glance which she cast upon the populace.The captain, much more occupied with her than with that pack of the rabble, was amorously rumpling her girdle behind.She turned round, entreating and smiling."please let me alone, phoebus!If my mother were to return, she would see your hand!"At that moment, midday rang slowly out from the clock of Notre-Dame.A murmur of satisfaction broke out in the crowd.The last vibration of the twelfth stroke had hardly died away when all heads surged like the waves beneath a squall, and an immense shout went up from the pavement, the windows, and the roofs,"There she is!"Fleur-de-Lys pressed her hands to her eyes, that she might not see."Charming girl," said phoebus, "do you wish to withdraw?""No," she replied; and she opened through curiosity, the eyes which she had closed through fear.A tumbrel drawn by a stout Norman horse, and all surrounded by cavalry in violet livery with white crosses, had just debouched upon the place through the Rue Saint-pierre- aux-Boeufs.The sergeants of the watch were clearing a passage for it through the crowd, by stout blows from their clubs. Beside the cart rode several officers of justice and police, recognizable by their black costume and their awkwardness in the saddle.Master Jacques Charmolue paraded at their head.In the fatal cart sat a young girl with her arms tied behind her back, and with no priest beside her.She was in her shift; her long black hair (the fashion then was to cut it off only at the foot of the gallows) fell in disorder upon her half-bared throat and shoulders.Athwart that waving hair, more glossy than the plumage of a raven, a thick, rough, gray rope was visible, twisted and knotted, chafing her delicate collar-bones and twining round the charming neck of the poor girl, like an earthworm round a flower.Beneath that rope glittered a tiny amulet ornamented with bits of green glass, which had been left to her no doubt, because nothing is refused to those who are about to die.The spectators in the windows could see in the bottom of the cart her naked legs which she strove to hide beneath her, as by a final feminine instinct.At her feet lay a little goat, bound.The condemned girl held together with her teeth her imperfectly fastened shift.One would have said that she suffered still more in her misery from being thus exposed almost naked to the eyes of all.Alas! modesty is not made for such shocks."Jesus!" said Fleur-de-Lys hastily to the captain."Look fair cousin, 'tis that wretched Bohemian with the goat."So saying, she turned to phoebus.His eyes were fixed on the tumbrel.He was very pale."What Bohemian with the goat?" he stammered."What!" resumed Fleur-de-Lys, "do you not remember?"phoebus interrupted her."I do not know what you mean."He made a step to re-enter the room, but Fleur-de-Lys, whose jealousy, previously so vividly aroused by this same gypsy, had just been re-awakened, Fleur-de-Lys gave him a look full of penetration and distrust.She vaguely recalled at that moment having heard of a captain mixed up in the trial of that witch."What is the matter with you?" she said to phoebus, "one would say, that this woman had disturbed you."phoebus forced a sneer,--"Me!Not the least in the world!Ah! yes, certainly!""Remain, then!" she continued imperiously, "and let us see the end."The unlucky captain was obliged to remain.He was somewhat reassured by the fact that the condemned girl never removed her eyes from the bottom of the cart.It was but too surely la Esmeralda.In this last stage of opprobrium and misfortune, she was still beautiful; her great black eyes appeared still larger, because of the emaciation of her cheeks; her pale profile was pure and sublime.She resembled what she had been, in the same degree that a virgin by Masaccio, resembles a virgin of Raphael,--weaker, thinner, more delicate.
或许您还会喜欢:
挪威的森林
作者:佚名
章节:20 人气:2
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]
教父
作者:佚名
章节:45 人气:2
摘要:亚美利哥·勃纳瑟拉在纽约第三刑事法庭坐着等待开庭,等待对曾经严重地伤害了他的女儿并企图侮辱他的女儿的罪犯实行法律制裁。法官面容阴森可怕,卷起黑法衣的袖子,像是要对在法官席前面站着的两个年轻人加以严惩似的。他的表情在威严傲睨中显出了冷酷,但是,在这一切表面现象的下面,亚美利哥·勃纳瑟拉却感觉到法庭是在故弄玄虚,然而他还不理解这究竟是怎么回事。“你们的行为同那些最堕落腐化的分子相似,”法官厉声地说。 [点击阅读]
无人生还
作者:佚名
章节:71 人气:2
摘要:varcpro_id='u179742';varcpro_id='u179742';沃格雷夫法官先生新近离任退休,现在正在头等车厢的吸烟室里,倚角而坐,一边喷着雪茄烟,一边兴致勃勃地读着《泰晤士报》上的政治新闻。沃格雷夫放下报纸,眺望窗外。列车奔驰在西南沿海的萨默塞特原野上。他看了看表,还有两小时路程。 [点击阅读]
星球大战4:新希望
作者:佚名
章节:15 人气:2
摘要:另外一个星系,另外一个时间。“古老的共和国”是传奇的共和国,它的广袤无垠和悠久永恒远非时间和距离所能衡量。不必追溯它的起源,也不必寻求它的方位……它就是宇宙这一方的独一无二的共和国。在参议院的英明治理和杰迪骑土们的保卫下,共和国一度十分兴旺发达。然而,事物的发展往往就是这样:当财富和权力从受人倾慕而膨胀到令人畏惧时,奸邪之徒就会应运而生。他们贪得无厌,渐荫觊觎之心。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城1:暮色
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:2
摘要:序幕我从未多想我将如何死去,虽然在过去的几个月我有足够的理由去思考这个问题,但是即使我有想过,也从未想到死亡将如此地降临。我屏息静气地望着房间的另一头,远远地凝视着猎人那深邃的眼眸,而他则以愉快的目光回应我。这无疑是一个不错的死法,死在别人——我钟爱的人的家里。甚至可以说轰轰烈烈。这应该算是死得其所。我知道如果我没有来福克斯的话,此刻也就不必面对死亡。但是,尽管我害怕,也不会后悔当初的决定。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城4:破晓
作者:佚名
章节:41 人气:2
摘要:童年不是从出生到某一个年龄为止;也不是某一个特定的年纪孩子长大了,抛开幼稚童年的国度里,没有人会死去EdnaSt.VincentMillay前言我拥有比一般人多得多的濒临死亡的经历;这并不是一件你真正会习惯的事。这似乎有些奇怪,我又一次不可避免地面对着死亡。好像注定逃不开这一宿命,每一次我都成功逃开了,但是它又一次次地回到我身边。然而,这一次的似乎与众不同。 [点击阅读]
沉船
作者:佚名
章节:62 人气:2
摘要:谁都不怀疑哈梅西是准能够通过法科考试的。执掌各大学的学术女神,一向都不断从她金色的莲座上,对他撒下无数的花瓣,赐给他各种奖章,并使他屡次获得奖学金。大家以为,考试完毕后,哈梅西一定要马上回家了,但他却似乎并不十分急于收拾他的行囊。他父亲曾写信给他,吩咐他立刻回去。他回信说,等到考试的结果一公布,他马上就动身。安那达先生的儿子卓健拉是哈梅西的同学,和他住在紧隔壁。 [点击阅读]
火车
作者:佚名
章节:29 人气:2
摘要:冒着火的车子,用来载生前做过恶事的亡灵前往地狱。电车离开绫濑车站时才开始下的雨,半是冰冻的寒雨。怪不得一早起来左膝盖就疼得难受。本间俊介走到第一节车厢中间,右手抓着扶手,左手撑着收起来的雨伞,站在靠门的位置上。尖锐的伞头抵着地板,权充拐杖。他眺望着车窗外。平常日子的下午三点,常磐线的车厢内很空,若想坐下,空位倒是很多。 [点击阅读]
燕尾蝶
作者:佚名
章节:26 人气:2
摘要:韦迪·卫斯特韦特之墓韦迪·卫斯特韦特是位出生于新泽西州的海军军官。他从越南战场上生还后,深深地为佛教的精神所折服,因此在退役后移居日本。虽然不能舍弃带血的牛排和打猎的爱好,但他尽可能对佛教教义加以部分独特的解释,努力使两者并存。当韦迪正在享受他最喜爱的打猎时,死神来临了。当看到爱犬得林伽已经把受伤的野鸭追得无路可逃时,他扣动扳机准备打死野鸭。 [点击阅读]
爱丽丝漫游奇境记英文版
作者:佚名
章节:13 人气:2
摘要:刘易斯·卡罗尔(LewisCarroll)的真名叫查尔斯·勒特威奇·道奇森(1832~1898),是一位数学家,长期在享有盛名的牛津大学任基督堂学院数学讲师,发表了好几本数学著作。他因有严重的口吃,故而不善与人交往,但他兴趣广泛,对小说、诗歌、逻辑都颇有造诣,还是一个优秀的儿童像摄影师。作品《爱丽丝漫游仙境》是卡罗尔兴之所致,给友人的女儿爱丽丝所讲的故事,写下后加上自己的插图送给了她。 [点击阅读]