camille-第3部分

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Chapter　3

At　one　o'clock　on　the　16th　I　went　to　the　Rue　d'Antin。　The　voice　of　the　auctioneer　could　be　heard　from　the　outer　door。　The　rooms　were　crowded　with　people。　There　were　all　the　celebrities　of　the　most　elegant　impropriety；　furtively　examined　by　certain　great　ladies　who　had　again　seized　the　opportunity　of　the　sale　in　order　to　be　able　to　see；　close　at　hand；　women　whom　they　might　never　have　another　occasion　of　meeting；　and　whom　they　envied　perhaps　in　secret　for　their　easy　pleasures。　The　Duchess　of　F。　elbowed　Mlle。　A。；　one　of　the　most　melancholy　examples　of　our　modern　courtesan；　the　Marquis　de　T。　hesitated　over　a　piece　of　furniture　the　price　of　which　was　being　run　high　by　Mme。　D。；　the　most　elegant　and　famous　adulteress　of　our　time；　the　Duke　of　Y。；　who　in　Madrid　is　supposed　to　be　ruining　himself　in　Paris；　and　in　Paris　to　be　ruining　himself　in　Madrid；　and　who；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　never　even　reaches　the　limit　of　his　income；　talked　with　Mme。　M。；　one　of　our　wittiest　story…tellers；　who　from　time　to　time　writes　what　she　says　and　signs　what　she　writes；　while　at　the　same　time　he　exchanged　confidential　glances　with　Mme。　de　N。；　a　fair　ornament　of　the　Champs…Elysees；　almost　always　dressed　in　pink　or　blue；　and　driving　two　big　black　horses　which　Tony　had　sold　her　for　10；000　francs；　and　for　which　she　had　paid；　after　her　fashion；　finally；　Mlle。　R。；　who　makes　by　her　mere　talent　twice　what　the　women　of　the　world　make　by　their　dot　and　three　times　as　much　as　the　others　make　by　their　amours；　had　come；　in　spite　of　the　cold；　to　make　some　purchases；　and　was　not　the　least　looked　at　among　the　crowd。

We　might　cite　the　initials　of　many　more　of　those　who　found　themselves；　not　without　some　mutual　surprise；　side　by　side　in　one　room。　But　we　fear　to　weary　the　reader。　We　will　only　add　that　everyone　was　in　the　highest　spirits；　and　that　many　of　those　present　had　known　the　dead　woman；　and　seemed　quite　oblivious　of　the　fact。　There　was　a　sound　of　loud　laughter；　the　auctioneers　shouted　at　the　top　of　their　voices；　the　dealers　who　had　filled　the　benches　in　front　of　the　auction　table　tried　in　vain　to　obtain　silence；　in　order　to　transact　their　business　in　peace。　Never　was　there　a　noisier　or　a　more　varied　gathering。

I　slipped　quietly　into　the　midst　of　this　tumult；　sad　to　think　of　when　one　remembered　that　the　poor　creature　whose　goods　were　being　sold　to　pay　her　debts　had　died　in　the　next　room。　Having　come　rather　to　examine　than　to　buy；　I　watched　the　faces　of　the　auctioneers；　noticing　how　they　beamed　with　delight　whenever　anything　reached　a　price　beyond　their　expectations。　Honest　creatures；　who　had　speculated　upon　this　woman's　prostitution；　who　had　gained　their　hundred　per　cent　out　of　her；　who　had　plagued　with　their　writs　the　last　moments　of　her　life；　and　who　came　now　after　her　death　to　gather　in　at　once　the　fruits　of　their　dishonourable　calculations　and　the　interest　on　their　shameful　credit；　How　wise　were　the　ancients　in　having　only　one　God　for　traders　and　robbers！

Dresses；　cashmeres；　jewels；　were　sold　with　incredible　rapidity。　There　was　nothing　that　I　cared　for；　and　I　still　waited。　All　at　once　I　heard：　〃A　volume；　beautifully　bound；　gilt…edged；　entitled　Manon　Lescaut。　There　is　something　written　on　the　first　page。　Ten　francs。〃

〃Twelve；〃　said　a　voice　after　a　longish　silence。

〃Fifteen；〃　I　said。

Why？　I　did　not　know。　Doubtless　for　the　something　written。

〃Fifteen；〃　repeated　the　auctioneer。

〃Thirty；〃　said　the　first　bidder　in　a　tone　which　seemed　to　defy　further　competition。

It　had　now　become　a　struggle。　〃Thirty…five；〃　I　cried　in　the　same　tone。

〃Forty。〃

〃Fifty。〃

〃Sixty。〃

〃A　hundred。〃

If　I　had　wished　to　make　a　sensation　I　should　certainly　have　succeeded；　for　a　profound　silence　had　ensued；　and　people　gazed　at　me　as　if　to　see　what　sort　of　a　person　it　was；　who　seemed　to　be　so　determined　to　possess　the　volume。

The　accent　which　I　had　given　to　my　last　word　seemed　to　convince　my　adversary；　he　preferred　to　abandon　a　conflict　which　could　only　have　resulted　in　making　me　pay　ten　times　its　price　for　the　volume；　and；　bowing；　he　said　very　gracefully；　though　indeed　a　little　late：

〃I　give　way；　sir。〃

Nothing　more　being　offered；　the　book　was　assigned　to　me。

As　I　was　afraid　of　some　new　fit　of　obstinacy；　which　my　amour　propre　might　have　sustained　somewhat　better　than　my　purse；　I　wrote　down　my　name；　had　the　book　put　on　one　side；　and　went　out。　I　must　have　given　considerable　food　for　reflection　to　the　witnesses　of　this　scene；　who　would　nodoubt　ask　themselves　what　my　purpose　could　have　been　in　paying　a　hundred　francs　for　a　book　which　I　could　have　had　anywhere　for　ten；　or；　at　the　outside；　fifteen。

An　hour　after；　I　sent　for　my　purchase。　On　the　first　page　was　written　in　ink；　in　an　elegant　hand；　an　inscription　on　the　part　of　the　giver。　It　consisted　of　these　words：

Manon　to　Marguerite。

Humility。

It　was　signed　Armand　Duval。

What　was　the　meaning　of　the　word　Humility？　Was　Manon　to　recognise　in　Marguerite；　in　the　opinion　of　M。　Armand　Duval；　her　superior　in　vice　or　in　affection？　The　second　interpretation　seemed　the　more　probable；　for　the　first　would　have　been　an　impertinent　piece　of　plain　speaking　which　Marguerite；　whatever　her　opinion　of　herself；　would　never　have　accepted。

I　went　out　again；　and　thought　no　more　of　the　book　until　at　night；　when　I　was　going　to　bed。

Manon　Lescaut　is　a　touching　story。　I　know　every　detail　of　it；　and　yet　whenever　I　come　across　the　volume　the　same　sympathy　always　draws　me　to　it；　I　open　it；　and　for　the　hundredth　time　I　live　over　again　with　the　heroine　of　the　Abbe　Prevost。　Now　this　heroine　is　so　true　to　life　that　I　feel　as　if　I　had　known　her；　and　thus　the　sort　of　comparison　between　her　and　Marguerite　gave　me　an　unusual　inclination　to　read　it；　and　my　indulgence　passed　into　pity；　almost　into　a　kind　of　love　for　the　poor　girl　to　whom　I　owed　the　volume。　Manon　died　in　the　desert；　it　is　true；　but　in　the　arms　of　the　man　who　loved　her　with　the　whole　energy　of　his　soul；　who；　when　she　was　dead；　dug　a　grave　for　her；　and　watered　it　with　his　tears；　and　buried　his　heart　in　it；　while　Marguerite；　a　sinner　like　Manon；　and　perhaps　converted　like　her；　had　died　in　a　sumptuous　bed　（it　seemed；　after　what　I　had　seen；　the　bed　of　her　past）；　but　in　that　desert　of　the　heart；　a　more　barren；　a　vaster；　a　more　pitiless　desert　than　that　in　which　Manon　had　found　her　last　resting…place。

Marguerite；　in　fact；　as　I　had　found　from　some　friends　who　knew　of　the　last　circumstances　of　her　life；　had　not　a　single　real　friend　by　her　bedside　during　the　two　months　of　her　long　and　painful　agony。

Then　from　Manon　and　Marguerite　my　mind　wandered　to　those　whom　I　knew；　and　whom　I　saw　singing　along　the　way　which　led　to　just　such　another　death。　Poor　souls！　if　it　is　not　right　to　love　them；　is　it　not　well　to　pity　them？　You　pity　the　blind　man　who　has　never　seen　the　daylight；　the　deaf　who　has　never　heard　the　harmonies　of　nature；　the　dumb　who　has　never　found　a　voice　for　his　soul；　and；　under　a　false　cloak　of　shame；　you　will　not　pity　this　blindness　of　heart；　this　deafness　of　soul；　this　dumbness　of　conscience；　which　sets　the　poor　afflicted　creature　beside　herself　and　makes　her；　in　spite　of　herself；　incapable　of　seeing　what　is　good；　of　bearing　the　Lord；　and　of　speaking　the　pure　language　of　love　and　faith。

Hugo　has　written　Marion　Delorme；　Musset　has　written　Bernerette；　Alexandre　Dumas　has　written　Fernande；　the　thinkers　and　poets　of　all　time　have　brought　to　the　courtesan　the　offering　of　their　pity；　and　at　times　a　great　man　has　rehabilitated　them　with　his　love　and　even　with　his　name。　If　I　insist　on　this　point；　it　is　because　many　among　those　who　have　begun　to　read　me　will　be　ready　to　throw　down　a　book　in　which　they　will　fear　to　find　an　apology　for　vice　and　prostitution；　and　the　author's　age　will　do　something；　no　doubt；　to　increase　this　fear。　Let　me　undeceive　those　who　think　thus；　and　let　them　go　on　reading；　if　nothing　but　such　a　fear　hinders　them。

I　am　quite　simply　convinced　of　a　certain　principle；　which　is：　For　the　woman　whose　education　has　not　taught　her　what　is　right；　God　almost　always　opens　two　ways　which　lead　thither　the　ways　of　sorrow　and　of　love。　They　are　hard；　those　who　walk　in　them　walk　with　bleeding　feet　and　torn　hands；　but　they　also　leave　the　trappings　of　vice　upon　the　thorns　of　the　wayside；　and　reach　the　journey's　end　in　a　nakedness　which　is　not　shameful　in　the　sight　of　the　Lord。

Those　who　meet　these　bold　travellers　ought　to　succour　them；　and　to　tell　all　that　they　have　met　them；　for　in　so　doing　they　point　out　the　way。　It　is　not　a　question　of　setting　at　the　outset　of　life　two　sign…posts；　one　bearing　the　inscription　〃The　Right　Way；〃　the　other　the　inscription　〃The　Wrong　Way；〃　and　of　saying　to　those　who　come　there；　〃Choose。〃　One　must　needs；　like　Christ；　point　out　the　ways　which　lead　from　the　second　road　to　the　first；　to　those　who　have　been　easily　led　astray；　and　it　is　needful　that　the　beginning　of　these　ways　should　not　be　too　painful　nor　appear　too　impenetrable。

Here　is　Christianity　with　its　marvellous　parable　of　the　Prodigal　Son　to　teach　us　indulgence　and　pardon。　Jesus　was　full　of　love　for　souls　wounded　by　the　passions　of　men；　he　loved　to　bind　up　their　wounds　and　to　find　in　those　very　wounds　the　balm　which　should　heal　them。　Thus　he　said　to　the　Magdalen：　〃Much　shall　be　forgiven　thee　because　thou　hast　loved　much；〃　a　sublimity　of　pardon　which　can　only　have　called　forth　a　sublime　faith。

Why　do　we　make　ourselves　more　strict　than　Christ？　Why；　holding　obstinately　to　the　opinions　of　the　world；　which　hardens　itself　in　order　that　it　may　be　thought　strong；　do　we　reject；　as　it　rejects；　souls　bleeding　at　wounds　by　which；　like　a　sick　man's　bad　blood；　the　evil　of　their　past　may　be　healed；　if　only　a　friendly　hand　is　stretched　out　to　lave　them　and　set　them　in　the　convalescence　of　the　heart？

It　is　to　my　own　generation　that　I　speak；　to　those　for　whom　the　theories　of　M。　de　Voltaire　happily　exist　no　longer；　to　those　who；　like　myself；　realize　that　humanity；　for　these　last　fifteen　years；　has　been　in　one　of　its　most　audacious　moments　of　expansion。　The　science　of　good　and　evil　is　acquired　forever；　faith　is　refashioned；　respect　for　sacred　things　has　returned　to　us；　and　if　the　world　has　not　all　at　once　become　good；　it　has　at　least　become　better。　The　efforts　of　every　intelligent　man　t