姐,我要。。。
轻松的小说阅读环境
巴黎圣母院英文版 - BOOK SEVENTH CHAPTER I.THE DANGER OF CONFIDING ONE'S SECRET
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  Many weeks had elapsed.The first of March had arrived.The sun, which Dubartas, that classic ancestor of periphrase, had not yet dubbed the "Grand-duke of Candles," was none the less radiant and joyous on that account.It was one of those spring days which possesses so much sweetness and beauty, that all paris turns out into the squares and promenades and celebrates them as though they were Sundays.In those days of brilliancy, warmth, and serenity, there is a certain hour above all others, when the fa?ade of Notre-Dame should be admired. It is the moment when the sun, already declining towards the west, looks the cathedral almost full in the face.Its rays, growing more and more horizontal, withdraw slowly from the pavement of the square, and mount up the perpendicular fa?ade, whose thousand bosses in high relief they cause to start out from the shadows, while the great central rose window flames like the eye of a cyclops, inflamed with the reflections of the forge.This was the hour.Opposite the lofty cathedral, reddened by the setting sun, on the stone balcony built above the porch of a rich Gothic house, which formed the angle of the square and the Rue du parvis, several young girls were laughing and chatting with every sort of grace and mirth.From the length of the veil which fell from their pointed coif, twined with pearls, to their heels, from the fineness of the embroidered chemisette which covered their shoulders and allowed a glimpse, according to the pleasing custom of the time, of the swell of their fair virgin bosoms, from the opulence of their under-petticoats still more precious than their overdress (marvellous refinement), from the gauze, the silk, the velvet, with which all this was composed, and, above all, from the whiteness of their hands, which certified to their leisure and idleness, it was easy to divine they were noble and wealthy heiresses.They were, in fact, Damoiselle Fleur-de-Lys de Gondelaurier and her companions, Diane de Christeuil, Amelotte de Montmichel, Colombe de Gaillefontaine, and the little de Champchevrier maiden; all damsels of good birth, assembled at that moment at the house of the dame widow de Gondelaurier, on account of Monseigneur de Beaujeu and Madame his wife, who were to come to paris in the month of April, there to choose maids of honor for the Dauphiness Marguerite, who was to be received in picardy from the hands of the Flemings.Now, all the squires for twenty leagues around were intriguing for this favor for their daughters, and a goodly number of the latter had been already brought or sent to paris.These four maidens had been confided to the discreet and venerable charge of Madame Aloise de Gondelaurier, widow of a former commander of the king's cross-bowmen, who had retired with her only daughter to her house in the place du parvis, Notre- Dame, in paris.The balcony on which these young girls stood opened from a chamber richly tapestried in fawn-colored Flanders leather, stamped with golden foliage.The beams, which cut the ceiling in parallel lines, diverted the eye with a thousand eccentric painted and gilded carvings.Splendid enamels gleamed here and there on carved chests; a boar's head in faience crowned a magnificent dresser, whose two shelves announced that the mistress of the house was the wife or widow of a knight banneret.At the end of the room, by the side of a lofty chimney blazoned with arms from top to bottom, in a rich red velvet arm-chair, sat Dame de Gondelaurier, whose five and fifty years were written upon her garments no less distinctly than upon her face.Beside her stood a young man of imposing mien, although partaking somewhat of vanity and bravado--one of those handsome fellows whom all women agree to admire, although grave men learned in physiognomy shrug their shoulders at them.This young man wore the garb of a captain of the king's unattached archers, which bears far too much resemblance to the costume of Jupiter, which the reader has already been enabled to admire in the first book of this history, for us to inflict upon him a second description.The damoiselles were seated, a part in the chamber, a part in the balcony, some on square cushions of Utrecht velvet with golden corners, others on stools of oak carved in flowers and figures.Each of them held on her knee a section of a great needlework tapestry, on which they were working in company, while one end of it lay upon the rush mat which covered the floor.They were chatting together in that whispering tone and with the half-stifled laughs peculiar to an assembly of young girls in whose midst there is a young man.The young man whose presence served to set in play all these feminine self- conceits, appeared to pay very little heed to the matter, and, while these pretty damsels were vying with one another to attract his attention, he seemed to be chiefly absorbed in polishing the buckle of his sword belt with his doeskin glove. From time to time, the old lady addressed him in a very low tone, and he replied as well as he was able, with a sort of awkward and constrained politeness.From the smiles and significant gestures of Dame Aloise, from the glances which she threw towards her daughter, Fleur-de-Lys, as she spoke low to the captain, it was easy to see that there was here a question of some betrothal concluded, some marriage near at hand no doubt, between the young man and Fleur-de-Lys.From the embarrassed coldness of the officer, it was easy to see that on his side, at least, love had no longer any part in the matter.His whole air was expressive of constraint and weariness, which our lieutenants of the garrison would to-day translate admirably as, "What a beastly bore!"The poor dame, very much infatuated with her daughter, like any other silly mother, did not perceive the officer's lack of enthusiasm, and strove in low tones to call his attention to the infinite grace with which Fleur-de-Lys used her needle or wound her skein."Come, little cousin," she said to him, plucking him by the sleeve, in order to speak in his ear, "Look at her, do! see her stoop.""Yes, truly," replied the young man, and fell back into his glacial and absent-minded silence.A moment later, he was obliged to bend down again, and Dame Aloise said to him,--"Have you ever beheld a more gay and charming face than that of your betrothed?Can one be more white and blonde? are not her hands perfect? and that neck--does it not assume all the curves of the swan in ravishing fashion?How I envy you at times! and how happy you are to be a man, naughty libertine that you are!Is not my Fleur-de-Lys adorably beautiful, and are you not desperately in love with her?""Of course," he replied, still thinking of something else."But do say something," said Madame Aloise, suddenly giving his shoulder a push; "you have grown very timid."We can assure our readers that timidity was neither the captain's virtue nor his defect.But he made an effort to do what was demanded of him."Fair cousin," he said, approaching Fleur-de-Lys, "what is the subject of this tapestry work which you are fashioning?' "Fair cousin," responded Fleur-de-Lys, in an offended tone, "I have already told you three times.'Tis the grotto of Neptune."It was evident that Fleur-de-Lys saw much more clearly than her mother through the captain's cold and absent-minded manner.He felt the necessity of making some conversation."And for whom is this Neptunerie destined?""For the Abbey of Saint-Antoine des Champs," answered Fleur-de-Lys, without raising her eyes.The captain took up a corner of the tapestry."Who, my fair cousin, is this big gendarme, who is puffing out his cheeks to their full extent and blowing a trumpet?""'Tis Triton," she replied.There was a rather pettish intonation in Fleur-de-Lys's-- laconic words.The young man understood that it was indispensable that he should whisper something in her ear, a commonplace, a gallant compliment, no matter what.Accordingly he bent down, but he could find nothing in his imagination more tender and personal than this,--"Why does your mother always wear that surcoat with armorial designs, like our grandmothers of the time of Charles VII.?Tell her, fair cousin, that 'tis no longer the fashion, and that the hinge (gond) and the laurel (laurier) embroidered on her robe give her the air of a walking mantlepiece. In truth, people no longer sit thus on their banners, I assure you."Fleur-de-Lys raised her beautiful eyes, full of reproach, "Is that all of which you can assure me?" she said, in a low voice.In the meantime, Dame Aloise, delighted to see them thus bending towards each other and whispering, said as she toyed with the clasps of her prayer-book,--"Touching picture of love!"The captain, more and more embarrassed, fell back upon the subject of the tapestry,--"'Tis, in sooth, a charming work!" he exclaimed.Whereupon Colombe de Gaillefontaine, another beautiful blonde, with a white skin, dressed to the neck in blue damask, ventured a timid remark which she addressed to Fleur-de-Lys, in the hope that the handsome captain would reply to it, "My dear Gondelaurier, have you seen the tapestries of the H?tel de la Roche-Guyon?""Is not that the hotel in which is enclosed the garden of the Lingère du Louvre?" asked Diane de Christeuil with a laugh; for she had handsome teeth, and consequently laughed on every occasion."And where there is that big, old tower of the ancient wall of paris," added Amelotte de Montmichel, a pretty fresh and curly-headed brunette, who had a habit of sighing just as the other laughed, without knowing why."My dear Colombe," interpolated Dame Aloise, "do you not mean the hotel which belonged to Monsieur de Bacqueville, in the reign of King Charles VI.? there are indeed many superb high warp tapestries there.""Charles VI.!Charles VI.!" muttered the young captain, twirling his moustache."Good heavens! what old things the good dame does remember!"Madame de Gondelaurier continued, "Fine tapestries, in truth.A work so esteemed that it passes as unrivalled."At that moment Bérangère de Champchevrier, a slender little maid of seven years, who was peering into the square through the trefoils of the balcony, exclaimed, "Oh! look, fair Godmother Fleur-de-Lys, at that pretty dancer who is dancing on the pavement and playing the tambourine in the midst of the loutish bourgeois!"The sonorous vibration of a tambourine was, in fact, audible. "Some gypsy from Bohemia," said Fleur-de-Lys, turning carelessly toward the square."Look! look!" exclaimed her lively companions; and they all ran to the edge of the balcony, while Fleur-de-Lys, rendered thoughtful by the coldness of her betrothed, followed them slowly, and the latter, relieved by this incident, which put an end to an embarrassing conversation, retreated to the farther end of the room, with the satisfied air of a soldier released from duty.Nevertheless, the fair Fleur-de-Lys's was a charming and noble service, and such it had formerly appeared to him; but the captain had gradually become blase'; the prospect of a speedy marriage cooled him more every day.Moreover, he was of a fickle disposition, and, must we say it, rather vulgar in taste.Although of very noble birth, he had contracted in his official harness more than one habit of the common trooper.The tavern and its accompaniments pleased him.He was only at his ease amid gross language, military gallantries, facile beauties, and successes yet more easy.He had, nevertheless, received from his family some education and some politeness of manner; but he had been thrown on the world too young, he had been in garrison at too early an age, and every day the polish of a gentleman became more and more effaced by the rough friction of his gendarme's cross-belt.While still continuing to visit her from time to time, from a remnant of common respect, he felt doubly embarrassed with Fleur-de-Lys; in the first place, because, in consequence of having scattered his love in all sorts of places, he had reserved very little for her; in the next place, because, amid so many stiff, formal, and decent ladies, he was in constant fear lest his mouth, habituated to oaths, should suddenly take the bit in its teeth, and break out into the language of the tavern.The effect can be imagined!Moreover, all this was mingled in him, with great pretentions to elegance, toilet, and a fine appearance.Let the reader reconcile these things as best he can.I am simply the historian.He had remained, therefore, for several minutes, leaning in silence against the carved jamb of the chimney, and thinking or not thinking, when Fleur-de-Lys suddenly turned and addressed him.After all, the poor young girl was pouting against the dictates of her heart."Fair cousin, did you not speak to us of a little Bohemian whom you saved a couple of months ago, while making the patrol with the watch at night, from the hands of a dozen robbers?""I believe so, fair cousin,." said the captain."Well," she resumed, "perchance 'tis that same gypsy girl who is dancing yonder, on the church square.Come and see if you recognize her, fair Cousin phoebus."A secret desire for reconciliation was apparent in this gentle invitation which she gave him to approach her, and in the care which she took to call him by name.Captain phoebus de Chateaupers (for it is he whom the reader has had before his eyes since the beginning of this chapter) slowly approached the balcony."Stay," said Fleur-de-Lys, laying her hand tenderly on phoebus's arm; "look at that little girl yonder, dancing in that circle.Is she your Bohemian?"phoebus looked, and said,--"Yes, I recognize her by her goat.""Oh! in fact, what a pretty little goat!" said Amelotte, clasping her hands in admiration."Are his horns of real gold?" inquired Bérangère.Without moving from her arm-chair, Dame Aloise interposed, "Is she not one of those gypsy girls who arrived last year by the Gibard gate?""Madame my mother," said Fleur-de-Lys gently, "that gate is now called the porte d'Enfer."Mademoiselle de Gondelaurier knew how her mother's antiquated mode of speech shocked the captain.In fact, he began to sneer, and muttered between his teeth: "porte Gibard!porte Gibard!'Tis enough to make King Charles VI. pass by.""Godmother!" exclaimed Bérangère, whose eyes, incessantly in motion, had suddenly been raised to the summit of the towers of Notre-Dame, "who is that black man up yonder?"All the young girls raised their eyes.A man was, in truth, leaning on the balustrade which surmounted the northern tower, looking on the Grève.He was a priest.His costume could be plainly discerned, and his face resting on both his hands.But he stirred no more than if he had been a statue. His eyes, intently fixed, gazed into the place.It was something like the immobility of a bird of prey, who has just discovered a nest of sparrows, and is gazing at it."'Tis monsieur the archdeacon of Josas," said Fleur-de-Lys."You have good eyes if you can recognize him from here," said the Gaillefontaine."How he is staring at the little dancer!" went on Diane de Christeuil."Let the gypsy beware!" said Fleur-de-Lys, "for he loves not Egypt.""'Tis a great shame for that man to look upon her thus," added Amelotte de Montmichel, "for she dances delightfully.""Fair cousin phoebus," said Fleur-de-Lys suddenly, "Since you know this little gypsy, make her a sign to come up here. It will amuse us.""Oh, yes!" exclaimed all the young girls, clapping their hands."Why! 'tis not worth while," replied phoebus."She has forgotten me, no doubt, and I know not so much as her name.Nevertheless, as you wish it, young ladies, I will make the trial."And leaning over the balustrade of the balcony, he began to shout, "Little one!"The dancer was not beating her tambourine at the moment. She turned her head towards the point whence this call proceeded, her brilliant eyes rested on phoebus, and she stopped short."Little one!" repeated the captain; and he beckoned her to approach.The young girl looked at him again, then she blushed as though a flame had mounted into her cheeks, and, taking her tambourine under her arm, she made her way through the astonished spectators towards the door of the house where phoebus was calling her, with slow, tottering steps, and with the troubled look of a bird which is yielding to the fascination of a serpent.A moment later, the tapestry portière was raised, and the gypsy appeared on the threshold of the chamber, blushing, confused, breathless, her large eyes drooping, and not daring to advance another step.Bérangère clapped her hands.Meanwhile, the dancer remained motionless upon the threshold.Her appearance had produced a singular effect upon these young girls.It is certain that a vague and indistinct desire to please the handsome officer animated them all, that his splendid uniform was the target of all their coquetries, and that from the moment he presented himself, there existed among them a secret, suppressed rivalry, which they hardly acknowledged even to themselves, but which broke forth, none the less, every instant, in their gestures and remarks. Nevertheless, as they were all very nearly equal in beauty, they contended with equal arms, and each could hope for the victory.--The arrival of the gypsy suddenly destroyed this equilibrium.Her beauty was so rare, that, at the moment when she appeared at the entrance of the apartment, it seemed as though she diffused a sort of light which was peculiar to herself.In that narrow chamber, surrounded by that sombre frame of hangings and woodwork, she was incomparably more beautiful and more radiant than on the public square.She was like a torch which has suddenly been brought from broad daylight into the dark.The noble damsels were dazzled by her in spite of themselves.Each one felt herself, in some sort, wounded in her beauty.Hence, their battle front (may we be allowed the expression,) was immediately altered, although they exchanged not a single word.But they understood each other perfectly.Women's instincts comprehend and respond to each other more quickly than the intelligences of men.An enemy had just arrived; all felt it--all rallied together.One drop of wine is sufficient to tinge a glass of water red; to diffuse a certain degree of ill temper throughout a whole assembly of pretty women, the arrival of a prettier woman suffices, especially when there is but one man present.Hence the welcome accorded to the gypsy was marvellously glacial.They surveyed her from head to foot, then exchanged glances, and all was said; they understood each other.Meanwhile, the young girl was waiting to be spoken to, in such emotion that she dared not raise her eyelids.The captain was the first to break the silence."Upon my word," said he, in his tone of intrepid fatuity, "here is a charming creature!What think you of her, fair cousin?"This remark, which a more delicate admirer would have uttered in a lower tone, at least was not of a nature to dissipate the feminine jealousies which were on the alert before the gypsy.
或许您还会喜欢:
理智与情感
作者:佚名
章节:59 人气:0
摘要:【作者简介】简·奥斯汀(1775~1817)英国女小说家。生于乡村小镇斯蒂文顿,父亲是当地教区牧师。奥斯丁没有上过正规学校,在父母指导下阅读了大量文学作品。她20岁左右开始写作,共发表了6部长篇小说。1811年出版的《理智和情感》是她的处女作,随后又接连发表了《傲慢与偏见》(1813)、《曼斯菲尔德花园》(1814)和《爱玛》(1815)。 [点击阅读]
琥珀望远镜
作者:佚名
章节:38 人气:0
摘要:猛兽们从深邃的山谷走来看着熟睡中的少女——威廉?布莱克紧挨着雪线有一个杜鹃花遮蔽的山谷,山谷里哗啦啦地流淌着一条乳白色的雪水融化而成的小溪,鸽子和红雀在巨大的松树间飞翔,在岩石和其下簇拥着的又直又硬的树叶间半遮半掩着一个洞。 [点击阅读]
生活在别处
作者:佚名
章节:18 人气:0
摘要:——读米兰·昆德拉《生活在别处》吕新雨生存于人类的文化传统之中,我们对于"诗"、"抒情"、"美"这样的字眼,总是保持着崇高的故意。人类不仅具有抒情的能力,而且具有这种需要,基于生存的需要。这样抒情诗就不仅仅是一个美学问题,而且是一个具有存在论性质的问题,抒情态度成为人类的一种生存范畴。 [点击阅读]
田园交响曲
作者:佚名
章节:14 人气:0
摘要:纪德是个不可替代的榜样在二十世纪法国作家中,若论哪一位最活跃,最独特,最重要,最喜欢颠覆,最爱惹是生非,最复杂,最多变,从而也最难捉摸,那么几乎可以肯定,非安德烈·纪德莫属。纪德的一生及其作品所构成的世界,就是一座现代的迷宫。这座迷宫迷惑了多少评论家,甚至迷惑诺贝尔文学奖评委们长达三十余年。这里顺便翻一翻诺贝尔文学奖这本老账,只为从一个侧面说明纪德为人和为文的复杂性,在他的迷宫里迷途不足为奇。 [点击阅读]
男人这东西
作者:佚名
章节:19 人气:0
摘要:对于性,少男们由于难以抑制自己而感到不安;与此同时,他们又抱有尝试性爱的愿望。因此,他们的实情是:置身于这两种互相矛盾的情感的夹缝中苦苦思索,闷闷不乐。无论男性还是女性,成长为响当当的人是极其不易的。在此,我们所说的“响当当的人”指的是无论在肉体还是在精神方面都健康且成熟的男人和女人。在成人之前,人,无一例外要逾越形形色色的障碍、壁垒。 [点击阅读]
畸形屋
作者:佚名
章节:26 人气:0
摘要:大战末期,我在埃及认识了苏菲亚-里奥奈兹。她在当地领事馆某部门担任一个相当高的管理职位。第一次见到她是在一个正式场会里,不久我便了解到她那令她登上那个职位的办事效率,尽管她还很年轻(当时她才二十二岁)。除了外貌让人看来极为顺眼之外,她还拥有清晰的头脑和令我觉得非常愉快的一本正经的幽默感。她是一个令人觉得特别容易交谈的对象,我们在一起吃过几次饭,偶尔跳跳舞,过得非常愉快。 [点击阅读]
癌症楼
作者:佚名
章节:69 人气:0
摘要:肖韦宏瑞典皇家学院将1970年度的诺贝尔文学奖授予苏联作家索尔仁尼琴,从而使前苏联与西方之间继“帕斯捷尔纳克事件”之后又一次出现了冷战的局面。从那时以来,索尔仁尼琴也由一个“持不同政见者”变为“流亡作家”,其创作活动变得更为复杂,更为引人注目。索尔仁尼琴于1918年12月11日生于北高加索的基斯洛沃茨克市。父亲曾在沙俄军队中供职,战死在德国;母亲系中学教员。 [点击阅读]
白发鬼
作者:佚名
章节:10 人气:0
摘要:诡怪的开场白此刻,在我面前,这所监狱里的心地善良的囚犯教诲师,正笑容可掬地等待着我开始讲述我的冗长的故事;在我旁边,教诲师委托的熟练的速记员已削好铅笔,正期待我开口。我要从现在起,按照善良的教诲师的劝告,一天讲一点,连日讲述我的不可思议的经历。教诲师说他想让人把我的口述速记下来,以后编成一部书出版。我也希望能那样。因为我的经历怪诞离奇,简直是世人做梦都想不到的。 [点击阅读]
白牙
作者:佚名
章节:25 人气:0
摘要:黑鸦鸦的丛林,肃立在冰河的两岸。不久前的一阵大风,已经将树体上的冰雪一掠而去。现在,它们依偎在沉沉暮霭之中,抑郁寡欢。无垠的原野死一般沉寂,除了寒冷和荒凉,没有任何生命和运动的含义。但这一切绝不仅仅意味着悲哀,而是蕴含着比悲哀更可怕的、远超过冰雪之冷冽的残酷。那是永恒用他的专横和难以言传的智慧,嘲笑着生命和生命的奋斗。那是“荒原”,是充满了野蛮,寒冷彻骨的“北国的荒原”。 [点击阅读]
白衣怪圈
作者:佚名
章节:16 人气:0
摘要:1月4日星期一上午7时5分马萨诸塞州波士顿的冬夜一片漆黑。海伦·卡伯特在拂晓时醒了过来。她躺在路易斯伯格广场她父母的家中,一缕缕暗淡的晨曦刺破了笼罩这间三楼卧室的黑暗。她睡在一张有顶篷装饰的床上,懒得睁开眼睛,依然沉浸在鸭绒被赐予的舒适温暖之中。她称心如意,全然不知她的脑组织已出了大毛病。这次假期海伦并不很愉快。她是普林斯顿大学3年级学生,为了不影响功课,她预约了在圣诞和新年假期中做刮子宫手术。 [点击阅读]
白马酒店
作者:佚名
章节:25 人气:0
摘要:(一)我身后的磨咖啡器像只愤怒的毒蛇一样,发出嘶嘶怪响,带着一种邪恶、不祥的意味。我想,或许我们这个时代大多数的声音都带有这种味道:喷射机从我们头上呼啸而过时,带着使人畏惧的震耳欲聋声音;地下铁迫近隧道时,也有缓慢吓人的隆隆巨响;而地面上那些笨重的往来车辆,更是连人住的屋子都给动摇了……此外,目前家庭中所用的许多器具,虽然也许使用起来颇为方便, [点击阅读]
盆景
作者:佚名
章节:11 人气:0
摘要:从港口往市区方向走500米就到了宫岛市政府,其位于山脚下。该市政府是一座豪华的四层的钢筋水泥建筑,只有观光科是单独租用了宫岛港大厦的二楼作为办公地点。所有的外地游客都要通过这里才能进入宫岛,所以在这里办公是非常便捷的。当迁谷友里子走进观光科时,那里的职员们正心神不宁地担心着窗外的天气。“照这样下去,天气恐怕会大变。”野崎科长担心地说着,转过身来,看到友里子后挥挥手,“呀,你好。 [点击阅读]