original short stories-13-第16部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


happiness。　　But；　suddenly；　I　felt　him　start　violently　and　he　gave　a
scream；　a　scream　that　I　shall　never　forget。　　I　opened　my　eyes　and　saw
that　Mouton　had　sprung　at　his　face　and　was　tearing　the　skin　with　his
claws　as　if　it　had　been　a　linen　rag。　　And　the　blood　was　streaming　down
like　rain；　madame。

〃I　tried　to　take　the　cat　away；　but　he　held　on　tight；　scratching　all　the
time；　and　he　bit　me；　he　was　so　crazy。　　I　finally　got　him　and　threw　him
out　of　the　window；　which　was　open；　for　it　was　summer。

〃When　I　began　to　bathe　my　poor　friend's　face；　I　noticed　that　his　eyes
were　destroyed；　both　his　eyes！

〃He　had　to　go　to　the　hospital。　　He　died　of　grief　at　the　end　of　a　year。
I　wanted　to　keep　him　with　me　and　provide　for　him；　but　he　would　not　agree
to　it。　　One　would　have　supposed　that　he　hated　me　after　the　occurrence。

〃As　for　Mouton；　his　back　was　broken　by　the　fall；　The　janitor　picked　up
his　body。　　I　had　him　stuffed；　for　in　spite　of　all　I　was　fond　of　him。
If　he　acted　as　he　did　it　was　because　he　loved　me；　was　it　not？〃

The　old　woman　was　silent　and　began　to　stroke　the　lifeless　animal　whose
body　trembled　on　its　iron　framework。

Emma；　with　sorrowful　heart；　had　forgotten　about　the　predicted　deathor；
at　least；　she　did　not　allude　to　it　again；　and　she　left；　giving　the　woman
five　francs。

As　her　husband　was　to　return　the　following　day；　I　did　not　go　to　the　house
for　several　days。　　When　I　did　go　I　was　surprised　at　not　seeing　Misti。
I　asked　where　he　was。

She　blushed　and　replied：

〃I　gave　him　away。　　I　was　uneasy。〃

I　was　astonished。

〃Uneasy？　　Uneasy？　　What　about？〃

She　gave　me　a　long　kiss　and　said　in　a　low　tone：

〃I　was　uneasy　about　your　eyes；　my　dear。〃

　　　　　Misti　appeared　in。　　Gil　Blas　of　January　22；　1884；　over　the　signature
　　　　　of　〃MAUFRIGNEUSE。〃






MADAME　HERMET

Crazy　people　attract　me。　　They　live　in　a　mysterious　land　of　weird　dreams；
in　that　impenetrable　cloud　of　dementia　where　all　that　they　have　witnessed
in　their　previous　life；　all　they　have　loved；　is　reproduced　for　them　in　an
imaginary　existence；　outside　of　all　laws　that　govern　the　things　of　this
life　and　control　human　thought。

For　them　there　is　no　such　thing　as　the　impossible；　nothing　is　improbable；
fairyland　is　a　constant　quantity　and　the　supernatural　quite　familiar。
The　old　rampart；　logic；　the　old　wall；　reason；　the　old　main　stay　of
thought；　good　sense；　break　down；　fall　and　crumble　before　their
imagination；　set　free　and　escaped　into　the　limitless　realm　of　fancy；　and
advancing　with　fabulous　bounds；　and　nothing　can　check　it。　　For　them
everything　happens；　and　anything　may　happen。　　They　make　no　effort　to
conquer　events；　to　overcome　resistance；　to　overturn　obstacles。　　By　a
sudden　caprice　of　their　flighty　imagination　they　become　princes；
emperors；　or　gods；　are　possessed　of　all　the　wealth　of　the　world；　all　the
delightful　things　of　life；　enjoy　all　pleasures；　are　always　strong；　always
beautiful；　always　young；　always　beloved！　　They；　alone；　can　be　happy　in
this　world；　for；　as　far　as　they　are　concerned；　reality　does　not　exist。
I　love　to　look　into　their　wandering　intelligence　as　one　leans　over　an
abyss　at　the　bottom　of　which　seethes　a　foaming　torrent　whose　source　and
destination　are　both　unknown。

But　it　is　in　vain　that　we　lean　over　these　abysses；　for　we　shall　never
discover　the　source　nor　the　destination　of　this　water。　　After　all；　it　is
only　water；　just　like　what　is　flowing　in　the　sunlight；　and　we　shall　learn
nothing　by　looking　at　it。

It　is　likewise　of　no　use　to　ponder　over　the　intelligence　of　crazy　people；
for　their　most　weird　notions　are；　in　fact；　only　ideas　that　are　already
known；　which　appear　strange　simply　because　they　are　no　longer　under　the
restraint　of　reason。　　Their　whimsical　source　surprises　us　because　we　do
not　see　it　bubbling　up。　　Doubtless　the　dropping　of　a　little　stone　into
the　current　was　sufficient　to　cause　these　ebullitions。　　Nevertheless
crazy　people　attract　me　and　I　always　return　to　them；　drawn　in　spite　of
myself　by　this　trivial　mystery　of　dementia。

One　day　as　I　was　visiting　one　of　the　asylums　the　physician　who　was　my
guide　said：

〃Come；　I　will　show　you　an　interesting　case。〃

And　he　opened　the　door　of　a　cell　where　a　woman　of　about　forty；　still
handsome；　was　seated　in　a　large　armchair；　looking　persistently　at　her
face　in　a　little　hand　mirror。

As　soon　as　she　saw　us　she　rose　to　her　feet；　ran　to　the　other　end　of　the
room；　picked　up　a　veil　that　lay　on　a　chair；　wrapped　it　carefully　round
her　face；　then　came　back；　nodding　her　head　in　reply　to　our　greeting。

〃Well；〃　said　the　doctor；　〃how　are　you　this　morning？〃

She　gave　a　deep　sigh。

〃Oh；　ill；　monsieur；　very　ill。　　The　marks　are　increasing　every　day。〃

He　replied　in　a　tone　of　conviction：

〃Oh；　no；　oh；　no；　I　assure　you　that　you　are　mistaken。〃

She　drew　near　to　him　and　murmured：

〃No。　　I　am　certain　of　it。　　I　counted　ten　pittings　more　this　morning；
three　on　the　right　cheek；　four　on　the　left　cheek；　and　three　on　the
forehead。　　It　is　frightful；　frightful！　　I　shall　never　dare　to　let　any　one
see　me；　not　even　my　son；　no；　not　even　him！　　I　am　lost；　I　am　disfigured
forever。〃

She　fell　back　in　her　armchair　and　began　to　sob。

The　doctor　took　a　chair；　sat　down　beside　her；　and　said　soothingly　in　a
gentle　tone：

〃Come；　let　me　see；　I　assure　you　it　is　nothing。　　With　a　slight
cauterization　I　will　make　it　all　disappear。〃

She　shook　her　head　in　denial；　without　speaking。　　He　tried　to　touch　her
veil；　but　she　seized　it　with　both　hands　so　violently　that　her　fingers
went　through　it。

He　continued　to　reason　with　her　and　reassure　her。

〃Come；　you　know　very　well　that　I　remove　those　horrid　pits　every　time　and
that　there　is　no　trace　of　them　after　I　have　treated　them。　　If　you　do　not
let　me　see　them　I　cannot　cure　you。〃

〃I　do　not　mind　your　seeing　them；〃　she　murmured；　〃but　I　do　not　know　that
gentleman　who　is　with　you。〃

〃He　is　a　doctor　also；　who　can　give　you　better　care　than　I　can。〃

She　then　allowed　her　face　to　be　uncovered；　but　her　dread；　her　emotion；
her　shame　at　being　seen　brought　a　rosy　flush　to　her　face　and　her　neck；
down　to　the　collar　of　her　dress。　　She　cast　down　her　eyes；　turned　her　face
aside；　first　to　the　right；　then　to　the　left；　to　avoid　our　gaze　and
stammered　out：

〃Oh；　it　is　torture　to　me　to　let　myself　be　seen　like　this！　　It　is
horrible；　is　it　not？　　Is　it　not　horrible？〃

I　looked　at　her　in　much　surprise；　for　there　was　nothing　on　her　face；　not
a　mark；　not　a　spot；　not　a　sign　of　one；　nor　a　scar。

She　turned　towards　me；　her　eyes　still　lowered；　and　said：

〃It　was　while　taking　care　of　my　son　that　I　caught　this　fearful　disease；
monsieur。　　I　saved　him；　but　I　am　disfigured。　　I　sacrificed　my　beauty　to
him；　to　my　poor　child。　　However；　I　did　my　duty；　my　conscience　is　at　rest。
If　I　suffer　it　is　known　only　to　God。〃

The　doctor　had　drawn　from　his　coat　pocket　a　fine　water…color　paint　brush。

〃Let　me　attend　to　it；〃　he　said；　〃I　will　put　it　all　right。〃

She　held　out　her　right　cheek；　and　he　began　by　touching　it　lightly　with
the　brush　here　and　there；　as　though　he　were　putting　little　points　of
paint　on　it。　　He　did　the　same　with　the　left　cheek；　then　with　the　chin；
and　the　forehead；　and　then　exclaimed：

〃See；　there　is　nothing　there　now；　nothing　at　all！〃

She　took　up　the　mirror；　gazed　at　her　reflection　with　profound；　eager
attention；　with　a　strong　mental　effort　to　discover　something；　then　she
sighed：

〃No。　　It　hardly　shows　at　all。　　I　am　infinitely　obliged　to　you。〃

The　doctor　had　risen。　　He　bowed　to　her；　ushered　me　out　and　followed　me；
and；　as　soon　as　he　had　locked　the　door；　said：

〃Here　is　the　history　of　this　unhappy　woman。〃

Her　name　is　Mme。　Hermet。　　She　was　once　very　beautiful；　a　great　coquette；
very　much　beloved　and　very　much　in…love　with　life。

She　was　one　of　those　women　who　have　nothing　but　their　beauty　and　their
love　of　admiration　to　sustain；　guide　or　comfort　them　in　this　life。　　The
constant　anxiety　to　retain　her　freshness；　the　care　of　her　complexion；　of
her　hands；　her　teeth；　of　every　portion　of　body　that　was　visible；　occupied
all　her　time　and　all　her　attention。

She　became　a　widow；　with　one　son。　　The　boy　was　brought　up　as　are　all
children　of　society　beauties。　　She　was；　however；　very　fond　of　him。

He　grew　up；　and　she　grew　older。　　Whether　she　saw　the　fatal　crisis
approaching；　I　cannot　say。　　Did　she；　like　so　many　others；　gaze　for　hours
and　hours　at　her　skin；　once　so　fine；　so　transparent　and　free　from
blemish；　now　beginning　to　shrivel　slightly；　to　be　crossed　with　a　thousand
little　lines；　as　yet　imperceptible；　that　will　grow　deeper　day　by　day；
month　by　month？　　Did　she　also　see　slowly；　but　surely；　increasing　traces
of　those　long　wrinkles　on　the　forehead；　those　slender　serpents　that
nothing　can　check？　　Did　she　suffer　the　torture；　the　abominable　torture　of
the　mirror；　the　little　mirror　with　the　silver　handle　which　one　cannot
make　up　one's　mind　to　lay　down　on　the　table；　but　then　throws　down　in
disgust　only　to　take　it　up　again　in　order　to　look　more　closely；　and　still
more　closely　at　the　hateful　and　insidious　approaches　of　old　age？　　Did　she
shut　herself　up　ten　times；　twenty　times　a　day；　leaving　her　friends
chatting　in　the　drawing…room；　and　go　up　to　her　room　where；　under　the
protection　of　bolts　and　bars；　she　would　again　contemplate　the　work　of
time　on　her　ripe　beauty；　now　beginning　to　wither；　and　recognize　with
despair　the　gradual　progress　of　the　process　which　no　one　else　had　as　yet
seemed　to　perceive；　but　of　which　she；　herself；　was　well　aware。　　She　knows
where　to　seek　the　most　serious；　the　gravest　traces　of　age。　　And　the
mirror；　the　little　round　hand…glass　in　its　carved　silver　frame；　tells　her
horrible　things；　for　it　speaks；　it　seems　to　laugh；　it　jeers　and　tells　her
all　that　is　going　to　occur；　all　the　physical　discomforts　and　the
atrocious　mental　anguish　she　will　suffer　until　the　day　of　her　death；
which　will　be　the　day　of　her　deliverance。

Did　she　weep；　distractedly；　on　her　knees；　her　forehead　to　the　ground；　and
pray；　pray；　pray　to　Him　who　thus　slays　his　creatures　and　gives　them　youth
only　that　he　may　render　old　age　more　unendurable；　and　lends　them　beauty
only　that　he　may　withdraw　it　almost　immediately？　　Did　she　pray　to　Him；
imploring　Him　to　do　for　her　what　He　has　never　yet　done