martin guerre-第5部分

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was　adorned　with　a　huge　bouquet　for　the　occasion；　and　who　now　came

forward　and　took　the　hand　of　Rose；　the　pretty　godmother；　there　were

cries　of　joy　on　all　sides。　　Bertrande　was　delighted　at　this

reconciliation；　and　dreamed　only　of　happiness。　　She　was　so　happy　now；

her　long　sorrow　was　atoned　for；　her　regret　was　at　an　end；　her　prayers

seemed　to　have　been　heard；　the　long　interval　between　the　former

delights　and　the　present　seemed　wiped　out　as　if　the　bond　of　union　had

never　been　broken；　and　if　she　remembered　her　grief　at　all；　it　was

only　to　intensify　the　new　joys　by　comparison。　　She　loved　her　husband

more　than　ever；　he　was　full　of　affection　for　her；　and　she　was

grateful　for　his　love。　　The　past　had　now　no　shadow；　the　future　no

cloud；　and　the　birth　of　a　daughter；　drawing　still　closer　the　links

which　united　them；　seemed　a　new　pledge　of　felicity。　　Alas！　the

horizon　which　appeared　so　bright　and　clear　to　the　poor　woman　was

doomed　soon　again　to　be　overcast。



The　very　evening　of　the　christening　party；　a　band　of　musicians　and

jugglers　happened　to　pass　through　the　village；　and　the　inhabitants

showed　themselves　liberal。　　Pierre　asked　questions；　and　found　that

the　leader　of　the　band　was　a　Spaniard。　　He　invited　the　man　to　his　own

house；　and　remained　closeted　with　him　for　nearly　an　hour；　dismissing

him　at　length　with　a　refilled　purse。　　Two　days　later　the　old　man

announced　to　the　family　that　he　was　going　to　Picardy　to　see　a　former

partner　on　a　matter　of　business；　and　he　departed　accordingly；　saying

he　should　return　before　long。



The　day　on　which　Bertrande　again　saw　her　uncle　was；　indeed；　a

terrible　one。　　She　was　sitting　by　the　cradle　of　the　lately…born

infant；　watching　for　its　awakening；　when　the　door　opened；　and　Pierre

Guerre　strode　in。　　Bertrande　drew　back　with　an　instinct　of　terror　as

soon　as　she　saw　him；　for　his　expression　was　at　once　wicked　and

joyfulan　expression　of　gratified　hate；　of　mingled　rage　and　triumph；

and　his　smile　was　terrible　to　behold。　　She　did　not　venture　to　speak；

but　motioned　him　to　a　seat。　　He　came　straight　up　to　her；　and　raising

his　head；　said　loudly



〃Kneel　down　at　once；　madamekneel　down；　and　ask　pardon　from　Almighty

God！〃



〃Are　you　mad；　Pierre？〃　she　replied；　gazing　at　him　in　astonishment。



〃You；　at　least；　ought　to　know　that　I　am　not。〃



〃Pray　for　forgivenessI！　and　what　for；　in　Heaven's　name？〃



〃For　the　crime　in　which　you　are　an　accomplice。〃



〃Please　explain　yourself。〃



〃Oh！〃　said　Pierre；　with　bitter　irony；　〃a　woman　always　thinks　herself

innocent　as　long　as　her　sin　is　hidden；　she　thinks　the　truth　will

never　be　known；　and　her　conscience　goes　quietly　to　sleep；　forgetting

her　faults。　　Here　is　a　woman　who　thought　her　sins　nicely　concealed；

chance　favoured　her：　an　absent　husband；　probably　no　more；　another　man

so　exactly　like　him　in　height；　face；　and　manner　that　everyone　else　is

deceived！　　Is　it　strange　that　a　weak；　sensitive　woman；　wearied　of

widowhood；　should　willingly　allow　herself　to　be　imposed　on？〃



Bertrande　listened　without　understanding；　she　tried　to　interrupt；　but

Pierre　went　on



〃It　was　easy　to　accept　this　stranger　without　having　to　blush　for　it；

easy　to　give　him　the　name　and　the　rights　of　a　husband！　　She　could

even　appear　faithful　while　really　guilty；　she　could　seem　constant；

though　really　fickle；　and　she　could；　under　a　veil　of　mystery；　at　once

reconcile　her　honour；　her　dutyperhaps　even　her　love。〃



〃What　on　earth　do　you　mean？〃　cried　Bertrande；　wringing　her　hands　in

terror。



〃That　you　are　countenancing　an　impostor　who　is　not　your　husband。〃



Feeling　as　if　the　ground　were　passing　from　beneath　her；　Bertrande

staggered；　and　caught　at　the　nearest　piece　of　furniture　to　save

herself　from　falling；　then；　collecting　all　her　strength　to　meet　this

extraordinary　attack；　she　faced　the　old　man。



〃What！　my　husband；　your　nephew；　an　impostor！〃



〃Don't　you　know　it？〃



〃I！！〃



This　cry；　which　came　from　her　heart；　convinced　Pierre　that　she　did

not　know；　and　that　she　had　sustained　a　terrible　shock。　　He　continued

more　quietly



〃What；　Bertrande；　is　it　possible　you　were　really　deceived？〃



〃Pierre；　you　are　killing　me；　your　words　are　torture。　　No　more

mystery；　I　entreat。　　What　do　you　know？　　What　do　you　suspect？　　Tell　me

plainly　at　once。〃



〃Have　you　courage　to　hear　it？〃



〃I　must；〃　said　the　trembling　woman。



〃God　is　my　witness　that　I　would　willingly　have　kept　it　from　you；　but

you　must　know；　if　only　for　the　safety　of　your　soul　entangled　in　so

deadly　a　snare；。。。　　there　is　yet　time；　if　you　follow　my　advice。

Listen：　the　man　with　whom　you　are　living；　who　dares　to　call　himself

Martin　Guerre；　is　a　cheat；　an　impostor〃



〃How　dare　you　say　so？〃



〃Because　I　have　discovered　it。　　Yes；　I　had　always　a　vague　suspicion；

an　uneasy　feeling；　and　in　spite　of　the　marvellous　resemblance　I　could

never　feel　as　if　he　were　really　my　sister's　child。　　The　day　he　raised

his　hand　to　strike　meyes；　that　day　I　condemned　him　utterly。。。。

Chance　has　justified　me！　　A　wandering　Spaniard；　an　old　soldier；　who

spent　a　night　in　the　village　here；　was　also　present　at　the　battle　of

St。　Quentin；　and　saw　Martin　Guerre　receive　a　terrible　gunshot　wound

in　the　leg。　　After　the　battle；　being　wounded；　he　betook　himself　to

the　neighbouring　village；　and　distinctly　heard　a　surgeon　in　the　next

room　say　that　a　wounded　man　must　have　his　leg　amputated；　and　would

very　likely　not　survive　the　operation。　　The　door　opened；　he　saw　the

sufferer；　and　knew　him　for　Martin　Guerre。　　So　much　the　Spaniard　told

me。　　Acting　on　this　information；　I　went　on　pretence　of　business　to

the　village　he　named；　I　questioned　the　inhabitants；　and　this　is　what

I　learned。〃



〃Well？〃　said　Bertrande；　pale；　and　gasping　with　emotion。



〃I　learned　that　the　wounded　man　had　his　leg　taken　off；　and；　as　the

surgeon　predicted；　he　must　have　died　in　a　few　hours；　for　he　was　never

seen　again。〃



Bertrande　remained　a　few　moments　as　if　annihilated　by　this　appalling

revelation；　then；　endeavoring　to　repel　the　horrible　thought



〃No；〃　she　cried；　〃no；　it　is　impossible！　　It　is　a　lie　intended　to　ruin

him…to　ruin　us　all。〃



〃What！　　you　do　not　believe　me？〃



〃No；　never；　never！〃



〃Say　rather　you　pretend　to　disbelieve　me：　the　truth　has　pierced　your

heart；　but　you　wish　to　deny　it。　　Think；　however；　of　the　danger　to

your　immortal　soul。〃



〃Silence；　wretched　man！。。。　　No；　God　would　not　send　me　so　terrible　a

trial。　　What　proof　can　you　show　of　the　truth　of　your　words？〃



〃The　witnesses　I　have　mentioned。〃



〃Nothing　more？〃



〃No；　not　as　yet。〃



〃Fine　proofs　indeed！　　The　story　of　a　vagabond　who　flattered　your

hatred　in　hope　of　a　reward；　the　gossip　of　a　distant　village；　the

recollections　of　ten　years　back；　and　finally；　your　own　word；　the　word

of　a　man　who　seeks　only　revenge；　the　word　of　a　man　who　swore　to　make

Martin　pay　dearly　for　the　results　of　his　own　avarice；　a　man　of

furious　passions　such　as　yours！　　No；　Pierre；　no；　I　do　not　believe

you；　and　I　never　will！〃



〃Other　people　may　perhaps　be　less　incredulous；　and　if　I　accuse　him

publicly〃



〃Then　I　shall　contradict　you　publicly！　　〃And　coming　quickly　forward；

her　eyes　shining　with　virtuous　anger



〃Leave　this　house；　go；〃　she　said；　〃it　is　you　yourself　who　are　the

impostorgo！〃



〃I　shall　yet　know　how　to　convince　everyone；　and　will　make　you

acknowledge　it；〃　cried　the　furious　old　man。



He　went　out；　and　Bertrande　sank　exhausted　into　a　chair。　　All　the

strength　which　had　supported　her　against　Pierre　vanished　as　soon　as

she　was　alone；　and　in　spite　of　her　resistance　to　suspicion；　the

terrible　light　of　doubt　penetrated　her　heart；　and　extinguished　the

pure　torch　of　trustfulness　which　had　guided　her　hithertoa　doubt；

alas！　　which　attacked　at　once　her　honour　and　her　love；　for　she　loved

with　all　a　woman's　tender　affection。　　Just　as　actual　poison　gradually

penetrates　and　circulates　through　the　whole　system；　corrupting　the

blood　and　affecting　the　very　sources　of　life　until　it　causes　the

destruction　of　the　whole　body；　so　does　that　mental　poison；　suspicion；

extend　its　ravages　in　the　soul　which　has　received　it。　　Bertrande

remembered　with　terror　her　first　feelings　at　the　sight　of　the

returned　Martin　Guerre；　her　involuntary　repugnance；　her　astonishment

at　not　feeling　more　in　touch　with　the　husband　whom　she　had　so

sincerely　regretted。　　She　remembered　also；　as　if　she　saw　it　for　the

first　time；　that　Martin；　formerly　quick；　lively；　and　hasty　tempered；

now　seemed　thoughtful；　and　fully　master　of　himself。



This　change　of　character　she　had　supposed　due　to　the　natural

development　of　age；　she　now　trembled　at　the　idea　of　another　possible

cause。　　Some　other　little　details　began　to　occur　to　her　mindthe

forgetfulness　or　abstraction　of　her　husband　as　to　a　few　insignificant

things；　thus　it　sometimes　happened　that　he　did　not　answer　to　his　name

of　Martin；　also　that　he　mistook　the　road　to　a　hermitage；　formerly

well　known　to　them　both；　and　again　that　he　could　not　answer　when

addressed　in　Basque；　although　he　him　self　had　taught　her　the　little

she　knew　of　this　language。　　Besides；　since　his　return；　he　would　never

write　in　her　presence；　did　he　fear　that　she　would　notice　some

difference？　　She　had　paid　little　or　no　attention　to　these　trifles；

now；　pieced　together；　they　assumed　an　alarming　importance。　　An

appalling　terror　seized　Bertrande：　was　she　to　remain　in　this

uncertainty；　or　should　she　seek　an　explanation　which　might　prove　her

destruction？　　And　how　discover　the　truthby　questioning　the　guilty

man；　by　noting　his　confusion；　his　change　of　colour；　by　forcing　a

confession　from　him？　　But　she　had　lived　with　him　for　two　years；　he

was　the　father　of　her　child；　she　could　not　ruin　him　without　ruining

herself；　and；　an　explanation　once　sought；　she　could　neither　punish

him　and　escape　disgrace；　nor　pardon　him　without　sharing　his　guilt。

To　reproach　him　with　his　conduct　and　then　keep　silence　would　destroy