selected writings of guy de maupassant(莫伯桑作品选)-第15部分

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the　violence　of　the　flames；　and　a　long；　soft；　caressing　sheet　of
red　flame　mounted　up　the　white　wall；　and　kissed　it　as　high　as　the
roof。　The　light　fell　on　to　the　trees；　the　branches；　and　the
leaves；　and　a　shiver　of　fear　pervaded　them　also！　The　birds　awoke；
a　dog　began　to　howl；　and　it　seemed　to　me　as　if　the　day　were
breaking！　Almost　immediately　two　other　windows　flew　into
fragments；　and　I　saw　that　the　whole　of　the　lower　part　of　my　house
was　nothing　but　a　terrible　furnace。　But　a　cry；　a　horrible；
shrill；　heart…rending　cry；　a　woman's　cry；　sounded　through　the
night；　and　two　garret　windows　were　opened！　I　had　forgotten　the
servants！　I　saw　the　terror…struck　faces；　and　the　frantic　waving
of　their　arms！

Then；　overwhelmed　with　horror；　I　ran　off　to　the　village；
shouting：　〃Help！　help！　fire！　fire！〃　Meeting　some　people　who　were
already　coming　on　to　the　scene；　I　went　back　with　them　to　see！

By　this　time　the　house　was　nothing　but　a　horrible　and　magnificent
funeral　pile；　a　monstrous　pyre　which　lit　up　the　whole　country；　a
pyre　where　men　were　burning；　and　where　He　was　burning　also；　He；
He；　my　prisoner；　that　new　Being；　the　new　Master；　the　Horla！

Suddenly　the　whole　roof　fell　in　between　the　walls；　and　a　volcano
of　flames　darted　up　to　the　sky。　Through　all　the　windows　which
opened　on　to　that　furnace；　I　saw　the　flames　darting；　and　I
reflected　that　He　was　there；　in　that　kiln；　dead。

Dead？　Perhaps？　His　body？　Was　not　his　body；　which　was　transparent；
indestructible　by　such　means　as　would　kill　ours？

If　He　were　not　dead？　Perhaps　time　alone　has　power　over　that
Invisible　and　Redoubtable　Being。　Why　this　transparent；
unrecognizable　body；　this　body　belonging　to　a　spirit；　if　it　also
had　to　fear　ills；　infirmities；　and　premature　destruction？

Premature　destruction？　All　human　terror　springs　from　that！　After
man　the　Horla。　After　him　who　can　die　every　day；　at　any　hour；　at
any　moment；　by　any　accident；　He　came；　He　who　was　only　to　die　at
his　own　proper　hour　and　minute；　because　He　had　touched　the　limits
of　his　existence！

Nonothere　is　no　doubt　about　itHe　is　not　dead。　ThenthenI
suppose　I　must　kill　MYSELF！



MISS　HARRIET

There　were　seven　of　us　in　a　four…in…hand；　four　women　and　three
men；　one　of　whom　was　on　the　box　seat　beside　the　coachman。　We　were
following；　at　a　foot　pace；　broad　highway　which　serpentines　along
the　coast。

Setting　out　from　Etretat　at　break　of　day；　in　order　to　visit　the
ruins　of　Tancarville；　we　were　still　asleep；　chilled　by　the　fresh
air　of　the　morning。　The　women；　especially；　who　were　but　little
accustomed　to　these　early　excursions；　let　their　eyelids　fall　and
rise　every　moment；　nodding　their　heads　or　yawning；　quite
insensible　to　the　glory　of　the　dawn。

It　was　autumn。　On　both　sides　of　the　road　the　bare　fields
stretched　out；　yellowed　by　the　corn　and　wheat　stubble　which
covered　the　soil　like　a　bristling　growth　of　beard。　The　spongy
earth　seemed　to　smoke。　Larks　were　singing　high　up　in　the　air；
while　other　birds　piped　in　the　bushes。

At　length　the　sun　rose　in　front　of　us；　a　bright　red　on　the　plane
of　the　horizon；　and　as　it　ascended；　growing　clearer　from　minute
to　minute；　the　country　seemed　to　awake；　to　smile；　to　shake　and
stretch　itself；　like　a　young　girl　who　is　leaving　her　bed　in　her
white　airy　chemise。　The　Count　d'Etraille；　who　was　seated　on　the
box；　cried：

〃Look！　look！　a　hare！〃　and　he　pointed　toward　the　left；　indicating
a　piece　of　hedge。　The　leveret　threaded　its　way　along；　almost
concealed　by　the　field；　only　its　large　ears　visible。　Then　it
swerved　across　a　deep　rut；　stopped；　again　pursued　its　easy
course；　changed　its　direction；　stopped　anew；　disturbed；　spying
out　every　danger；　and　undecided　as　to　the　route　it　should　take。
Suddenly　it　began　to　run；　with　great　bounds　from　its　hind　legs；
disappearing　finally　in　a　large　patch　of　beet…root。　All　the　men
had　woke　up　to　watch　the　course　of　the　beast。

Rene　Lemanoir　then　exclaimed

〃We　are　not　at　all　gallant　this　morning；〃　and　looking　at　his
neighbor；　the　little　Baroness　of　Serennes；　who　was　struggling
with　drowsiness；　he　said　to　her　in　a　subdued　voice：　〃You　are
thinking　of　your　husband；　Baroness。　Reassure　yourself；　he　will
not　return　before　Saturday；　so　you　have　still　four　days。〃

She　responded　to　him　with　a　sleepy　smile。

〃How　rude　you　are。〃　Then；　shaking　off　her　torpor；　she　added：
〃Now；　let　somebody　say　something　that　will　make　us　all　laugh。
You；　Monsieur　Chenal　who　have　the　reputation　of　possessing　a
larger　fortune　than　the　Duke　of　Richelieu；　tell　us　a　love　story
in　which　you　have　been　mixed　up；　anything　you　like。〃

Leon　Chenal；　an　old　painter；　who　had　once　keen　very　handsome；
very　strong；　who　was　very　proud　of　his　physique　and　very　amiable；
took　his　long　white　beard　in　his　hand　and　smiled；　then；　after　a
few　moments'　reflection；　he　became　suddenly　grave。

〃Ladies；　it　will　not　be　an　amusing　tale；　for　I　am　going　to　relate
to　you　the　most　lamentable　love　affair　of　my　life；　and　I
sincerely　hope　that　none　of　my　friends　has　ever　passed　through　a
similar　experience。

I。

〃At　that　time　I　was　twenty…five　years　old；　and　was　making　daubs
along　the　coast　of　Normandy。　I　call　'making　daubs'　that　wandering
about；　with　a　bag　on　one's　back；　from　mountain　to　mountain；　under
the　pretext　of　studying　and　of　sketching　nature。　I　know　nothing
more　enjoyable　than　that　happy…go…lucky　wandering　life；　in　which
you　are　perfectly　free；　without　shackles　of　any　kind；　without
care；　without　preoccupation；　without　thought　even　of　to…morrow。
You　go　in　any　direction　you　please；　without　any　guide　save　your
fancy；　without　any　counselor　save　your　eyes。　You　pull　up；　because
a　running　brook　seduces　you；　or　because　you　are　attracted；　in
front　of　an　inn；　by　the　smell　of　potatoes　frying。　Sometimes　it　is
the　perfume　of　clematis　which　decides　you　in　your　choice；　or　the
naive　glance　of　the　servant　at　an　inn。　Do　not　despise　me　for　my
affection　for　these　rustics。　These　girls　have　soul　as　well　as
feeling；　not　to　mention　firm　cheeks　and　fresh　lips；　while　their
hearty　and　willing　kisses　have　the　flavor　of　wild　fruit。　Love
always　has　its　price；　come　whence　it　may。　A　heart　that　beats　when
you　make　your　appearance；　an　eye　that　weeps　when　you　go　away；
these　are　things　so　rare；　so　sweet；　so　precious；　that　they　must
never　be　despised。

〃I　have　had　rendezvous　in　ditches　in　which　cattle　repose；　and　in
barns　among　the　straw；　still　steaming　from　the　heat　of　the　day。　I
have　recollections　of　canvas　spread　on　rude　and　creaky　benches；
and　of　hearty；　fresh；　free　kisses；　more　delicate；　free　from
affectation；　and　sincere　than　the　subtle　attractions　of　charming
and　distinguished　women。

〃But　what　you　love　most　amid　all　these　varied　adventures　are　the
country；　the　woods；　the　risings　of　the　sun；　the　twilight；　the
light　of　the　moon。　For　the　painter　these　are　honeymoon　trips　with
Nature。　You　are　alone　with　her　in　that　long　and　tranquil
rendezvous。　You　go　to　bed　in　the　fields　amid　marguerites　and　wild
poppies；　and；　with　eyes　wide　open；　you　watch　the　going　down　of
the　sun；　and　descry　in　the　distance　the　little　village；　with　its
pointed　clock…tower；　which　sounds　the　hour　of　midnight。

〃You　sit　down　by　the　side　of　a　spring　which　gushes　out　from　the
foot　of　an　oak；　amid　a　covering　of　fragile　herbs；　growing　and
redolent　of　life。　You　go　down　on　your　knees；　bend　forward；　and
drink　the　cold　and　pellucid　water；　wetting　your　mustache　and
nose；　you　drink　it　with　a　physical　pleasure；　as　though　you　were
kissing　the　spring；　lip　to　lip。　Sometimes；　when　you　encounter　a
deep　hole；　along　the　course　of　these　tiny　brooks；　you　plunge　into
it；　quite　naked；　and　on　your　skin；　from　head　to　foot；　like　an　icy
and　delicious　caress；　you　feel　the　lovely　and　gentle　quivering　of
the　current。

〃You　are　gay　on　the　hills；　melancholy　on　the　verge　of　pools；
exalted　when　the　sun　is　crowned　in　an　ocean　of　blood…red　shadows；
and　when　it　casts　on　the　rivers　its　red　reflection。　And　at　night；
under　the　moon；　as　it　passes　across　the　vault　of　heaven；　you
think　of　things；　singular　things；　which　would　never　have　occurred
to　your　mind　under　the　brilliant　light　of　day。

〃So；　in　wandering　through　the　same　country　we　are　in　this　year；　I
came　to　the　little　village　of　Benouville；　on　the　Falaise；　between
Yport　and　Etretat。　I　came　from　Fecamp；　following　the　coast；　a
high　coast；　perpendicular　as　a　wall；　with　projecting　and　rugged
rocks　falling　sheer　down　into　the　sea。　I　had　walked　since　the
morning　on　the　close　clipped　grass；　as　smooth　and　as　yielding　as
a　carpet。　Singing　lustily；　I　walked　with　long　strides；　looking
sometimes　at　the　slow　and　lazy　flight　of　a　gull；　with　its　short；
white　wings；　sailing　in　the　blue　heavens；　sometimes　at　the　green
sea；　or　at　the　brown　sails　of　a　fishing　bark。　In　short；　I　had
passed　a　happy　day；　a　day　of　listlessness　and　of　liberty。

〃I　was　shown　a　little　farmhouse；　where　travelers　were　put　up；　a
kind　of　inn；　kept　by　a　peasant；　which　stood　in　the　center　of　a
Norman　court；　surrounded　by　a　double　row　of　beeches。

〃Quitting　the　Falaise。　I　gained　the　hamlet；　which　was　hemmed　in
by　great　trees；　and　I　presented　myself　at　the　house　of　Mother
Lecacheur。

〃She　was　an　old；　wrinkled；　and　austere　rustic；　who　always　seemed
to　yield　to　the　pressure　of　new　customs　with　a　kind　of　contempt。

〃It　was　the　month　of　May：　the　spreading　apple…trees　covered　the
court　with　a　whirling　shower　of　blossoms　which　rained　unceasingly
both　upon　people　and　upon　the　grass。

〃I　said：

〃　'Well；　Madame　Lecacheur；　have　you　a　room　for　me？'

〃Astonished　to　find　that　I　knew　her　name；　she　answered：

〃　'That　depends；　everything　is　let；　but；　all　the　same；　there　will
be　no　harm　in　looking。'

〃In　five　minutes　we　were　in　perfect　accord；　and　I　deposited　my
bag　upon　the　bare　floor　of　a　rustic　room；　furnished　with　a　bed；
two　chairs；　a　table；　and　a　washstand。　The　room　opened　into　the
large　and　smoky　kitchen；　where　the　lodgers　took　their　meals　with
the　people　of　the　farm　and　with　the　farmer　himself；　who　was　a
widower。

〃I　washed　my　hands；　after　which　I　went　out。　The　old　woman　was
fricasseeing　a　chicken　for　dinner　in　a　large　fireplace；　in　which
hung　the　stew…pot；　black　with　smoke。

〃　'You　have　travelers；　then；　at　the　present　time？'　said　I　to　her。

〃She　answered　in　an　of