ursula-第2部分

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of　his　being　believe　that　he；　or　she；　alone　was　petitioned。　Desire；

who　played　a　part　in　Nemours　far　beyond　that　of　a　prince　royal　in　his

father's　capital；　chose　to　gratify　his　fancies　in　Paris　just　as　he　had

gratified　them　in　his　native　town；　he　had　therefore　spent　a　yearly　sum

of　not　less　than　twelve　thousand　francs　during　the　time　of　his　legal

studies。　But　for　that　money　he　had　certainly　acquired　ideas　that　would

never　had　come　to　him　in　Nemours；　he　had　stripped　off　the　provincial

skin；　learned　the　power　of　money　and　seen　in　the　magistracy　a　means　of

advancement　which　he　fancied。　During　the　last　year　he　had　spent　an

extra　sum　of　ten　thousand　francs　in　the　company　of　artists；

journalists；　and　their　mistresses。　A　confidential　and　rather

disquieting　letter　from　his　son；　asking　for　his　consent　to　a　marriage；

explains　the　watch　which　the　post　master　was　now　keeping　on　the

bridge；　for　Madame　Minoret…Levrault；　busy　in　preparing　a　sumptuous

breakfast　to　celebrate　the　triumphal　return　of　the　licentiate；　had

sent　her　husband　to　the　mail　road；　advising　him　to　take　a　horse　and

ride　out　if　he　saw　nothing　of　the　diligence。　The　coach　which　was

conveying　the　precious　son　usually　arrived　at　five　in　the　morning　and

it　was　now　nine！　What　could　be　the　meaning　of　such　delay？　Was　the

coach　overturned？　Could　Desire　be　dead？　Or　was　it　nothing　worse　than　a

broken　leg？



Three　distinct　volleys　of　cracking　whips　rent　the　air　like　a　discharge

of　musketry；　the　red　waistcoats　of　the　postilions　dawned　in　sight；　ten

horses　neighed。　The　master　pulled　off　his　cap　and　waved　it；　he　was

seen。　The　best　mounted　postilion；　who　was　returning　with　two　gray

carriage…horses；　set　spurs　to　his　beast　and　came　on　in　advance　of　the

five　diligence　horses　and　the　three　other　carriage…horses；　and　soon

reached　his　master。



〃Have　you　seen　the　'Ducler'？〃



On　the　great　mail　routes　names；　often　fantastic；　are　given　to　the

different　coaches；　such；　for　instance；　as　the　〃Caillard；〃　the　〃Ducler〃

（the　coach　between　Nemours　and　Paris）；　the　〃Grand　Bureau。〃　Every　new

enterprise　is　called　the　〃Competition。〃　In　the　days　of　the　Lecompte

company　their　coaches　were　called　the　〃Countess。〃〃'Caillard'　could

not　overtake　the　'Countess'；　but　'Grand　Bureau'　caught　up　with　her

finely；〃　you　will　hear　the　men　say。　If　you　see　a　postilion　pressing

his　horses　and　refusing　a　glass　of　wine；　question　the　conductor　and　he

will　tell　you；　snuffing　the　air　while　his　eye　gazes　far　into　space；

〃The　'Competition'　is　ahead。〃〃We　can't　get　in　sight　of　her；〃　cries

the　postilion；　〃the　vixen！　she　wouldn't　stop　to　let　her　passengers

dine。〃〃The　question　is；　has　she　got　any？〃　responds　the　conductor。

〃Give　it　to　Polignac！〃　All　lazy　and　bad　horses　are　called　Polignac。

Such　are　the　jokes　and　the　basis　of　conversation　between　postilions

and　conductors　on　the　roofs　of　the　coaches。　Each　profession；　each

calling　in　France　has　its　slang。



〃Have　you　seen　the　'Ducler'？〃　asked　Minoret。



〃Monsieur　Desire？〃　said　the　postilion；　interrupting　his　master。　〃Hay！

you　must　have　heard　us；　didn't　our　whips　tell　you？　we　felt　you　were

somewhere　along　the　road。〃



Just　then　a　woman　dressed　in　her　Sunday　clothes；for　the　bells　were

pealing　from　the　clock　tower　and　calling　the　inhabitants　to　mass；a

woman　about　thirty…six　years　of　age　came　up　to　the　post　master。



〃Well；　cousin；〃　she　said；　〃you　wouldn't　believe　me　Uncle　is　with

Ursula　in　the　Grand'Rue；　and　they　are　going　to　mass。〃



In　spite　of　the　modern　poetic　canons　as　to　local　color；　it　is　quite

impossible　to　push　realism　so　far　as　to　repeat　the　horrible　blasphemy

mingled　with　oaths　which　this　news；　apparently　so　unexciting；　brought

from　the　huge　mouth　of　Minoret…Levrault；　his　shrill　voice　grew

sibilant；　and　his　face　took　on　the　appearance　of　what　people　oddly

enough　call　a　sunstroke。



〃Is　that　true？〃　he　asked；　after　the　first　explosion　of　his　wrath　was

over。



The　postilions　bowed　to　their　master　as　they　and　their　horses　passed

him；　but　he　seemed　to　neither　see　nor　hear　them。　Instead　of　waiting

for　his　son；　Minoret…Levrault　hurried　up　to　the　Grand'Rue　with　his

cousin。



〃Didn't　I　always　tell　you　so？〃　she　resumed。　〃When　Doctor　Minoret　goes

out　of　his　head　that　demure　little　hypocrite　will　drag　him　into

religion；　whoever　lays　hold　of　the　mind　gets　hold　of　the　purse；　and

she'll　have　our　inheritance。〃



〃But；　Madame　Massin〃　said　the　post　master；　dumbfounded。



〃There　now！〃　exclaimed　Madame　Massin；　interrupting　her　cousin。　〃You

are　going　to　say；　just　as　Massin　does；　that　a　little　girl　of　fifteen

can't　invent　such　plans　and　carry　them　out；　or　make　an　old　man　of

eighty…three；　who　has　never　set　foot　in　a　church　except　to　be　married；

change　his　opinions；now　don't　tell　me　he　has　such　a　horror　of

priests　that　he　wouldn't　even　go　with　the　girl　to　the　parish　church

when　she　made　her　first　communion。　I'd　like　to　know　why；　if　Doctor

Minoret　hates　priests；　he　has　spent　nearly　every　evening　for　the　last

fifteen　years　of　his　life　with　the　Abbe　Chaperon。　The　old　hypocrite

never　fails　to　give　Ursula　twenty　francs　for　wax　tapers　every　time　she

takes　the　sacrament。　Have　you　forgotten　the　gift　Ursula　made　to　the

church　in　gratitude　to　the　cure　for　preparing　her　for　her　first

communion？　She　spent　all　her　money　on　it；　and　her　godfather　returned

it　to　her　doubled。　You　men！　you　don't　pay　attention　to　things。　When　I

heard　that；　I　said　to　myself；　'Farewell　baskets；　the　vintage　is　done！'

A　rich　uncle　doesn't　behave　that　way　to　a　little　brat　picked　up　in　the

streets　without　some　good　reason。〃



〃Pooh；　cousin；　I　dare　say　the　good　man　is　only　taking　her　to　the　door

of　the　church；〃　replied　the　post　master。　〃It　is　a　fine　day；　and　he　is

out　for　a　walk。〃



〃I　tell　you　he　is　holding　a　prayer…book；　and　looks　sanctimonious

you'll　see　him。〃



〃They　hide　their　game　pretty　well；〃　said　Minoret；　〃La　Bougival　told　me

there　was　never　any　talk　of　religion　between　the　doctor　and　the　abbe。

Besides；　the　abbe　is　one　of　the　most　honest　men　on　the　face　of　the

globe；　he'd　give　the　shirt　off　his　back　to　a　poor　man；　he　is　incapable

of　a　base　action；　and　to　cheat　a　family　out　of　their　inheritance　is〃



〃Theft；〃　said　Madame　Massin。



〃Worse！〃　cried　Minoret…Levrault；　exasperated　by　the　tongue　of　his

gossiping　neighbour。



〃Of　course　I　know；〃　said　Madame　Massin；　〃that　the　Abbe　Chaperon　is　an

honest　man；　but　he　is　capable　of　anything　for　the　sake　of　his　poor。　He

must　have　mined　and　undermined　uncle；　and　the　old　man　has　just　tumbled

into　piety。　We　did　nothing；　and　here　he　is　perverted！　A　man　who　never

believed　in　anything；　and　had　principles　of　his　own！　Well！　we're　done

for。　My　husband　is　absolutely　beside　himself。〃



Madame　Massin；　whose　sentences　were　so　many　arrows　stinging　her　fat

cousin；　made　him　walk　as　fast　as　herself；　in　spite　of　his　obesity　and

to　the　great　astonishment　of　the　church…goers；　who　were　on　their　way

to　mass。　She　was　determined　to　overtake　this　uncle　and　show　him　to　the

post　master。



Nemours　is　commanded　on　the　Gatinais　side　by　a　hill；　at　the　foot　of

which　runs　the　road　to　Montargis　and　the　Loing。　The　church；　on　the

stones　of　which　time　has　cast　a　rich　discolored　mantle　（it　was　rebuilt

in　the　fourteenth　century　by　the　Guises；　for　whom　Nemours　was　raised

to　a　peerage…duchy）；　stands　at　the　end　of　the　little　town　close　to　a

great　arch　which　frames　it。　For　buildings；　as　for　men；　position　does

everything。　Shaded　by　a　few　trees；　and　thrown　into　relief　by　a　neatly

kept　square；　this　solitary　church　produces　a　really　grandiose　effect。

As　the　post　master　of　Nemours　entered　the　open　space；　he　beheld　his

uncle　with　the　young　girl　called　Ursula　on　his　arm；　both　carrying

prayer…books　and　just　entering　the　church。　The　old　man　took　off　his

hat　in　the　porch；　and　his　head；　which　was　white　as　a　hill…top　covered

with　snow；　shone　among　the　shadows　of　the　portal。



〃Well；　Minoret；　what　do　you　say　to　the　conversion　of　your　uncle？〃

cried　the　tax…collector　of　Nemours；　named　Cremiere。



〃What　do　you　expect　me　to　say？〃　replied　the　post　master；　offering　him

a　pinch　of　snuff。



〃Well　answered；　Pere　Levrault。　You　can't　say　what　you　think；　if　it　is

true；　as　an　illustrious　author　says　it　is；　that　a　man　must　think　his

words　before　he　speaks　his　thoughts；〃　cried　a　young　man；　standing

near；　who　played　the　part　of　Mephistopheles　in　the　little　town。



This　ill…conditioned　youth；　named　Goupil；　was　head　clerk　to　Monsieur

Cremiere…Dionis；　the　Nemours　notary。　Notwithstanding　a　past　conduct

that　was　almost　debauched；　Dionis　had　taken　Goupil　into　his　office

when　a　career　in　Pariswhere　the　clerk　had　wasted　all　the　money　he

inherited　from　his　father；　a　well…to…do　farmer；　who　educated　him　for　a

notarywas　brought　to　a　close　by　his　absolute　pauperism。　The　mere

sight　of　Goupil　told　an　observer　that　he　had　made　haste　to　enjoy　life；

and　had　paid　dear　for　his　enjoyments。　Though　very　short；　his　chest　and

shoulders　were　developed　at　twenty…seven　years　of　age　like　those　of　a

man　of　forty。　Legs　small　and　weak；　and　a　broad　face；　with　a　cloudy

complexion　like　the　sky　before　a　storm；　surmounted　by　a　bald　forehead；

brought　out　still　further　the　oddity　of　his　conformation。　His　face

seemed　as　though　it　belonged　to　a　hunchback　whose　hunch　was　inside　of

him。　One　singularity　of　that　pale　and　sour　visage　confirmed　the

impression　of　an　invisible　gobbosity；　the　nose；　crooked　and　out　of

shape　like　those　of　many　deformed　persons；　turned　from　right　to　left

of　the　face　instead　of　dividing　it　down　the　middle。　The　mouth；

contracted　at　the　corners；　like　that　of　a　Sardinian；　was　always　on　the

qui　vive　of　irony。　His　hair；　thin　and　reddish；　fell　straight；　and

showed　the　skull　in　many　places。　His　hands；　coarse　and　ill…joined　at

the　wrists　to　arms　that　were　far　too　long；　were　quick…fingered　and

seldom　clean。　Goupil　wore　boots　only　fit　for　the　dust…heap；　and　raw

silk　stockings　now　of　a　russet　black；　his　coat　and　trouser