the nabob-第64部分

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profile；　metamorphosed　by　the　beard's　growth　of　a　night；　quite　gray；　near　the　sloping　pillow；　kneeling　and　burying　her　head　in　the　white　drapery；　was　a　woman；　whose　fair　hair　lay　in　rippled　disorder；　ready　to　fall　beneath　the　shears　of　eternal　widowhood；　then　a　priest　and　a　nun；　gathered　in　this　atmosphere　of　watch　by　the　dead；　in　which　are　mingled　the　fatigue　of　sleepless　nights　and　the　murmurs　of　prayer。

The　chamber　in　which　so　many　ambitions　had　strengthened　their　wings；　so　many　hopes　and　disappointments　had　throbbed；　was　wholly　given　over　now　to　the　peace　of　passing　Death。　Not　a　sound；　not　a　sigh。　Only；　notwithstanding　the　early　hour；　away　yonder；　towards　the　Pont　de　la　Concorde；　a　little　clarinet；　shrill　and　sharp；　could　be　heard　above　the　rumbling　of　the　first　vehicles；　but　its　exasperating　mockery　was　henceforth　lost　on　him　who　lay　there　asleep；　showing　to　the　terrified　Nabob　an　image　of　his　own　destiny；　chilled；　discoloured；　ready　for　the　tomb。

Others　besides　Jansoulet　found　that　death…chamber　lugubrious：　the　windows　wide　open；　the　night　and　the　wind　entering　freely　from　the　garden；　making　a　strong　draught；　a　human　form　on　a　table；　the　body；　which　had　just　been　embalmed；　the　hollow　skull　filled　with　a　sponge；　the　brain　in　a　basin。　The　weight　of　this　brain　of　a　statesman　was　truly　extraordinary。　It　weighedit　weighedthe　newspapers　of　the　period　mentioned　the　figure。　But　who　remembers　it　to…day？



THE　FUNERAL

〃Don't　weep；　my　fairy；　you　rob　me　of　all　my　courage。　Come；　you　will　be　a　great　deal　happier　when　you　no　longer　have　your　terrible　demon。　You　will　go　back　to　Fontainebleau　and　look　after　your　chickens。　The　ten　thousand　francs　from　Brahim　will　help　to　get　you　settled　down。　And　then；　don't　be　afraid；　once　you　are　over　there　I　shall　send　you　money。　Since　this　Bey　wants　to　have　sculpture　done　by　me；　he　will　have　to　pay　for　it；　as　you　may　imagine。　I　shall　return　rich；　rich。　Who　knows？　Perhaps　a　sultana。〃

〃Yes；　you　will　be　a　sultana；　but　II　shall　be　dead　and　I　shall　never　see　you　again。〃　And　the　good　Crenmitz　in　despair　huddled　herself　into　a　corner　of　the　cab　so　that　she　would　not　be　seen　weeping。

Felicia　was　leaving　Paris。　She　was　trying　to　escape　the　horrible　sadness；　the　sinister　disgust　into　which　Mora's　death　had　thrown　her。　What　a　terrible　blow　for　the　proud　girl！　/Ennui/；　pique；　had　thrown　her　into　this　man's　arms；　she　had　given　him　pridemodestyall；　and　now　he　had　carried　all　away　with　him；　leaving　her　tarnished　for　life；　a　tearless　widow；　without　mourning　and　without　dignity。　Two　or　three　visits　to　Saint…James　Villa；　a　few　evenings　in　the　back　of　some　box　at　some　small　theatre；　behind　the　curtain　that　shelters　forbidden　and　shameful　pleasure；　these　were　the　only　memories　left　to　her　by　this　liaison　of　a　fortnight；　this　loveless　intrigue　wherein　her　pride　had　not　found　even　the　satisfaction　of　the　commotion　caused　by　a　big　scandal。　The　useless　and　indelible　stain；　the　stupid　fall　of　a　woman　who　does　not　know　how　to　walk　and　who　is　embarrassed　in　her　rising　by　the　ironical　pity　of　the　passers…by。

For　a　moment　she　thought　of　suicide；　then　the　reflection　that　it　would　be　set　down　to　a　broken　heart　arrested　her。　She　saw　in　a　glance　the　sentimental　compassion　of　the　drawing…rooms；　the　foolish　figure　that　her　sham　passion　would　cut　among　the　innumberable　love　affairs　of　the　duke；　and　the　Parma　violets　scattered　by　the　pretty　Moessards　of　journalism　on　her　grave；　dug　so　near　the　other。　Travelling　remained　to　herone　of　those　journeys　so　distant　that　they　take　even　one's　thoughts　into　a　new　world。　Unfortunately　the　money　was　wanting。　Then　she　remembered　that　on　the　morrow　of　her　great　success　at　the　Exhibition；　old　Brahim　Bey　had　called　to　see　her；　to　make　her；　in　behalf　of　his　master；　magnificent　proposals　for　certain　great　works　to　be　executed　in　Tunis。　She　had　said　No　at　the　time；　without　allowing　herself　to　be　tempted　by　Oriental　remuneration；　a　splendid　hospitality；　the　finest　court　in　the　Bardo　for　a　studio；　with　its　surrounding　facades　of　stone　in　lacework　carving。　But　now　she　was　quite　willing。　She　had　to　make　but　a　sign；　the　agreement　was　immediately　concluded；　and　after　an　exchange　of　telegrams；　a　hasty　packing　and　shutting　up　of　the　house；　she　set　out　for　the　railway　station　as　if　for　a　week's　absence；　astonished　herself　by　her　prompt　decision；　flattered　on　all　the　adventurous　and　artistic　sides　of　her　nature　by　the　hope　of　a　new　life　in　an　unknown　country。

The　Bey's　pleasure　yacht　was　to　await　her　at　Genoa；　and　in　anticipation；　closing　her　eyes　in　the　cab　which　was　taking　her　to　the　station；　she　could　see　the　white　stone　buildings　of　an　Italian　port　embracing　an　iridescent　sea　where　the　sunshine　was　already　Eastern；　where　everything　sang；　to　the　very　swelling　of　the　sails　on　the　blue　water。　Paris；　as　it　happened；　was　muddy　that　day；　uniformly　gray；　flooded　by　one　of　those　continuous　rains　of　which　it　seems　to　have　the　special　property；　rains　that　seem　to　have　risen　in　clouds　from　its　river；　from　its　smoke；　from　its　monster's　breath；　and　to　fall　in　torrents　from　its　roofs；　from　its　spouts；　from　the　innumerable　windows　of　its　garrets。　Felicia　was　impatient　to　get　away　from　this　gloomy　Paris；　and　her　feverish　impatience　found　fault　with　the　cabmen　who　made　slow　progress　with　the　horses；　two　sorry　creatures　of　the　veritable　cab…horse　type；　with　an　inexplicable　block　of　carriages　and　omnibuses　crowded　together　in　the　vicinity　of　the　Pont　de　la　Concorde。

〃But　go　on；　driver；　go　on；　then。〃

〃I　cannot；　madame。　It　is　the　funeral　procession。〃

She　put　her　head　out　of　the　window　and　drew　it　back　again　immediately；　terrified。　A　line　of　soldiers　marching　with　reversed　arms；　a　confusion　of　caps　and　hats　raised　from　the　forehead　at　the　passage　of　an　endless　cortege。　It　was　Mora's　funeral　procession　defiling　past。

〃Don't　stop　here。　Go　round；〃　she　cried　to　the　cabman。

The　vehicle　turned　about　with　difficulty；　dragging　itself　regretfully　from　the　superb　spectacle　which　Paris　had　been　awaiting　for　four　days；　it　remounted　the　avenues；　took　the　Rue　Montaigne；　and；　with　its　slow　and　surly　little　trot；　came　out　at　the　Madeleine　by　the　Boulevard　Malesherbes。　Here　the　crowd　was　greater；　more　compact。

In　the　misty　rain；　the　illuminated　stained…glass　windows　of　the　church；　the　dull　echo　of　the　funeral　chants　beneath　the　lavishly　distributed　black　hangings　under　which　the　very　outline　of　the　Greek　temple　was　lost；　filled　the　whole　square　with　a　sense　of　the　office　in　course　of　celebration；　while　the　greater　part　of　the　immense　procession　was　still　squeezed　up　in　the　Rue　Royale；　and　as　far　even　as　the　bridges　a　long　black　line　connecting　the　dead　man　with　that　gate　of　the　Legislative　Assembly　through　which　he　had　so　often　passed。　Beyond　the　Madeleine　the　highway　of　the　boulevard　stretched　away　empty；　and　looking　bigger　between　two　lines　of　soldiers　with　arms　reversed；　confining　the　curious　to　the　pavements　black　with　people；　all　the　shops　closed；　and　the　balconies；　in　spite　of　the　rain；　overflowing　with　human　beings　all　leaning　forward　in　the　direction　of　the　church；　as　if　to　see　a　mid…Lent　festival　or　the　home…coming　of　victorious　troops。　Paris；　hungry　for　the　spectacular；　constructs　it　indifferently　out　of　anything；　civil　war　as　readily　as　the　burial　of　a　statesman。

It　was　necessary　for　the　cab　to　retrace　its　course　again　and　to　make　a　new　circuit；　and　it　is　easy　to　imagine　the　bad　temper　of　the　driver　and　his　beasts；　all　three　of　them　Parisian　in　soul　and　passions；　at　having　to　deprive　themselves　of　so　fine　a　show。　Then；　as　all　the　life　of　Paris　had　been　drawn　into　the　great　artery　of　the　boulevard；　there　began　through　the　deserted　and　silent　streetsa　capricious　and　irregular　drivethe　snail…like　progress　of　a　cab　taken　by　the　hour。　First　touching　the　extreme　points　of　the　Faubourg　Saint…Martin　and　the　Faubourg　Saint…Denis；　returning　again　towards　the　centre；　and　at　the　conclusion　of　circuits　and　dodges　finding　always　the　same　obstacle　in　ambush；　the　same　crowd；　some　fragment　of　the　black　defile　perceived　for　a　moment　at　the　branching　of　a　street；　unfolding　itself　in　the　rain　to　the　sound　of　muffled　drumsa　dull　and　heavy　sound；　like　that　of　earth　falling　on　a　coffin…lid。

What　torture　for　Felicia！　It　was　her　weakness　and　her　remorse　crossing　Paris　in　this　solemn　pomp；　this　funeral　train；　this　public　mourning　reflected　by　the　very　clouds；　and　the　proud　girl　revolted　against　this　affront　done　her　by　fate；　and　tried　to　escape　from　it　to　the　back　of　the　carriage；　where　she　remained　exhausted　with　eyes　closed；　while　old　Crenmitz；　believing　her　nervousness　to　be　grief；　did　her　best　to　comfort　her；　herself　wept　over　their　separation；　and　hiding　also；　left　the　entire　window　of　the　cab　to　the　big　Algerian　hound　with　his　finely　modelled　head　scenting　the　wind；　and　his　two　paws　resting　in　the　sash　with　an　heraldic　stiffness　of　pose。　Finally；　after　a　thousand　interminable　windings；　the　cab　suddenly　came　to　a　halt；　jolted　on　again　with　difficulty　amid　cries　and　abuse；　then；　tossed　about；　the　luggage　on　top　threatening　its　equilibrium；　it　ended　by　coming　to　a　full　stop；　held　prisoner；　as　it　were；　at　anchor。

〃/Bon　Dieu！/　what　a　mass　of　people！〃　murmured　the　Crenmitz；　terrified。

Felicia　came　out　of　her　stupor。

〃Where　are　we？〃

Under　a　colourless；　smoky　sky；　blotted　out　by　a　fine　network　of　rain　and　stretched　like　gauze　over　everything；　there　lay　an　immense　space　filled　by　an　ocean　of　humanity　surging　from　all　the　streets　that　led　to　it；　and　motionless　around　a　lofty　column　of　bronze；　which　dominated　this　sea　like　the　gigantic　mast　of　a　sunken　vessel。　Cavalry　in　squadrons；　with　swords　drawn；　guns　in　batteries　stood　at　intervals　along　an　open　passage；　awaiting　him　who　was　to　come　by；　perhaps　in　order　to　try　to　retake　him；　to　carry　him　off　by　force　from　the　formidable　enemy　who　was　bearing　him　away。　Alas！　all　the　cavalry　charges；　all　the　guns　could　be　of　no　avail　here。　The　prisoner　was　departing；　firmly　guarded；　defended　by　a　triple　wall　of　hardwood；　metal；　and　velvet；　impervious　to　grape…shot；　and　it　was　not　from　those　soldiers　that　he　could　hope　for　his　deliverance。

〃Get　away　from　this。　I　will　not　stay　here；〃　said　Felicia；　furious；　plucking　at　the　wet　box…coat　of　the　driver；　and　seized　by　a　wild　dread　at　the　thou