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camille-第1部分

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Camille (La Dame aux Camilias)

by Alexandre Dumas; fils





Chapter I

In my opinion; it is impossible to create characters until one has spent a long time in studying men; as it is impossible to speak a language until it has been seriously acquired。 Not being old enough to invent; I content myself with narrating; and I beg the reader to assure himself of the truth of a story in which all the characters; with the exception of the heroine; are still alive。 Eye…witnesses of the greater part of the facts which I have collected are to be found in Paris; and I might call upon them to confirm me if my testimony is not enough。 And; thanks to a particular circumstance; I alone can write these things; for I alone am able to give the final details; without which it would have been impossible to make the story at once interesting and complete。

This is how these details came to my knowledge。 On the 12th of March; 1847; I saw in the Rue Lafitte a great yellow placard announcing a sale of furniture and curiosities。 The sale was to take place on account of the death of the owner。 The owner's name was not mentioned; but the sale was to be held at 9; Rue d'Antin; on the 16th; from 12 to 5。 The placard further announced that the rooms and furniture could be seen on the 13th and 14th。

I have always been very fond of curiosities; and I made up my mind not to miss the occasion; if not of buying some; at all events of seeing them。 Next day I called at 9; Rue d'Antin。

It was early in the day; and yet there were already a number of visitors; both men and women; and the women; though they were dressed in cashmere and velvet; and had their carriages waiting for them at the door; gazed with astonishment and admiration at the luxury which they saw before them。

I was not long in discovering the reason of this astonishment and admiration; for; having begun to examine things a little carefully; I discovered without difficulty that I was in the house of a kept woman。 Now; if there is one thing which women in society would like to see (and there were society women there); it is the home of those women whose carriages splash their own carriages day by day; who; like them; side by side with them; have their boxes at the Opera and at the Italiens; and who parade in Paris the opulent insolence of their beauty; their diamonds; and their scandal。

This one was dead; so the most virtuous of women could enter even her bedroom。 Death had purified the air of this abode of splendid foulness; and if more excuse were needed; they had the excuse that they had merely come to a sale; they knew not whose。 They had read the placards; they wished to see what the placards had announced; and to make their choice beforehand。 What could be more natural? Yet; all the same; in the midst of all these beautiful things; they could not help looking about for some traces of this courtesan's life; of which they had heard; no doubt; strange enough stories。

Unfortunately the mystery had vanished with the goddess; and; for all their endeavours; they discovered only what was on sale since the owner's decease; and nothing of what had been on sale during her lifetime。 For the rest; there were plenty of things worth buying。 The furniture was superb; there were rosewood and buhl cabinets and tables; Sevres and Chinese vases; Saxe statuettes; satin; velvet; lace; there was nothing lacking。

I sauntered through the rooms; following the inquisitive ladies of distinction。 They entered a room with Persian hangings; and I was just going to enter in turn; when they came out again almost immediately; smiling; and as if ashamed of their own curiosity。 I was all the more eager to see the room。 It was the dressing…room; laid out with all the articles of toilet; in which the dead woman's extravagance seemed to be seen at its height。

On a large table against the wall; a table three feet in width and six in length; glittered all the treasures of Aucoc and Odiot。 It was a magnificent collection; and there was not one of those thousand little things so necessary to the toilet of a woman of the kind which was not in gold or silver。 Such a collection could only have been got together little by little; and the same lover had certainly not begun and ended it。

Not being shocked at the sight of a kept woman's dressing…room; I amused myself with examining every detail; and I discovered that these magnificently chiselled objects bore different initials and different coronets。 I looked at one after another; each recalling a separate shame; and I said that God had been merciful to the poor child; in not having left her to pay the ordinary penalty; but rather to die in the midst of her beauty and luxury; before the coming of old age; the courtesan's first death。

Is there anything sadder in the world than the old age of vice; especially in woman? She preserves no dignity; she inspires no interest。 The everlasting repentance; not of the evil ways followed; but of the plans that have miscarried; the money that has been spent in vain; is as saddening a thing as one can well meet with。 I knew an aged woman who had once been 〃gay;〃 whose only link with the past was a daughter almost as beautiful as she herself had been。 This poor creature to whom her mother had never said; 〃You are my child;〃 except to bid her nourish her old age as she herself had nourished her youth; was called Louise; and; being obedient to her mother; she abandoned herself without volition; without passion; without pleasure; as she would have worked at any other profession that might have been taught her。

The constant sight of dissipation; precocious dissipation; in addition to her constant sickly state; had extinguished in her mind all the knowledge of good and evil that God had perhaps given her; but that no one had ever thought of developing。 I shall always remember her; as she passed along the boulevards almost every day at the same hour; accompanied by her mother as assiduously as a real mother might have accompanied her daughter。 I was very young then; and ready to accept for myself the easy morality of the age。 I remember; however; the contempt and disgust which awoke in me at the sight of this scandalous chaperoning。 Her face; too; was inexpressibly virginal in its expression of innocence and of melancholy suffering。 She was like a figure of Resignation。

One day the girl's face was transfigured。 In the midst of all the debauches mapped out by her mother; it seemed to her as if God had left over for her one happiness。 And why indeed should God; who had made her without strength; have left her without consolation; under the sorrowful burden of her life? One day; then; she realized that she was to have a child; and all that remained to her of chastity leaped for joy。 The soul has strange refuges。 Louise ran to tell the good news to her mother。 It is a shameful thing to speak of; but we are not telling tales of pleasant sins; we are telling of true facts; which it would be better; no doubt; to pass over in silence; if we did not believe that it is needful from time to time to reveal the martyrdom of those who are condemned without bearing; scorned without judging; shameful it is; but this mother answered the daughter that they had already scarce enough for two; and would certainly not have enough for three; that such children are useless; and a lying…in is so much time lost。

Next day a midwife; of whom all we will say is that she was a friend of the mother; visited Louise; who remained in bed for a few days; and then got up paler and feebler than before。

Three months afterward a man took pity on her and tried to heal her; morally and physically; but the last shock had been too violent; and Louise died of it。 The mother still lives; how? God knows。

This story returned to my mind while I looked at the silver toilet things; and a certain space of time must have elapsed during these reflections; for no one was left in the room but myself and an attendant; who; standing near the door; was carefully watching me to see that I did not pocket anything。

I went up to the man; to whom I was causing so much anxiety。 〃Sir;〃 I said; 〃can you tell me the name of the person who formerly lived here?〃

〃Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier。〃

I knew her by name and by sight。

〃What!〃 I said to the attendant; 〃Marguerite Gautier is dead?〃

〃Yes; sir。〃

〃When did she die?〃

〃Three weeks ago; I believe。〃

〃And why are the rooms on view?〃

〃The creditors believe that it will send up the prices。 People can see beforehand the effect of the things; you see that induces them to buy。〃

〃She was in debt; then?〃

〃To any extent; sir。〃

〃But the sale will cover it?〃

〃And more too。〃

〃Who will get what remains over?〃

〃Her family。〃

〃She had a family?〃

〃It seems so。〃

〃Thanks。〃

The attendant; reassured as to my intentions; touched his hat; and I went out。

〃Poor girl!〃 I said to myself as I returned home; 〃she must have had a sad death; for; in her world; one has friends only when one is perfectly well。〃 And in spite of myself I began to feel melancholy over the fate of Marguerite Gautier。

It will seem absurd to many people; but I have an unbounded sympathy for women of this kind; and I do not think it necessary to apologize for such sympathy。

One day; as I was going to the Prefecture for a passport; I saw in one of the neighbouring streets a poor girl who was being marched along by two policemen。 I do not know what was the matter。 All I know is that she was weeping bitterly as she kissed an infant only a few months old; from whom her arrest was to separate her。 Since that day I have never dared to despise a woman at first sight。



Chapter 2

The sale was to take place on the 16th。 A day's interval had been left between the visiting days and the sale; in order to give time for taking down the hangings; curtains; etc。 I had just returned from abroad。 It was natural that I had not heard of Marguerite's death among the pieces of news which one's friends always tell on returning after an absence。 Marguerite was a pretty woman; but though the life of such women makes sensation enough; their death makes very little。 They are suns which set as they rose; unobserved。 Their death; when they die young
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