第 15 节
作者:孤悟      更新:2021-02-19 21:15      字数:9322
  to desecrate the traditions of his race; at the bidding of a
  mender of shoesa naval officer cashiered for misconduct and
  fraud。
  Such is human nature in its self…satisfied complacency that de
  Batz; calmly ignoring the vile part which he himself had played in
  the last quarter of an hour of his interview with the Committee's
  agent; found it in him to think of Heron with loathing; and even
  of the cobbler Simon with disgust。
  Then with a self…righteous sense of duty performed; and an
  indifferent shrug of the shoulders; he dismissed Heron from his
  mind。
  〃That meddlesome Scarlet Pimpernel will find his hands over…full
  to…morrow; and mayhap will not interfere in my affairs for some
  time to come;〃 he mused; 〃meseems that that will be the first time
  that a member of his precious League has come within the clutches
  of such unpleasant people as the sleuth…hounds of my friend
  Heron!〃
  CHAPTER IX
  WHAT LOVE CAN DO
  〃Yesterday you were unkind and ungallant。  How could I smile when
  you seemed so stern?〃
  〃Yesterday I was not alone with you。  How could I say what lay
  next my heart; when indifferent ears could catch the words that
  were meant only for you?〃
  〃Ah; monsieur; do they teach you in England how to make pretty
  speeches?〃
  〃No; mademoiselle; that is an instinct that comes into birth by
  the fire of a woman's eyes。〃
  Mademoiselle Lange was sitting upon a small sofa of antique
  design; with cushions covered in faded silks heaped round her
  pretty head。  Armand thought that she looked like that carved
  cameo which his sister Marguerite possessed。
  He himself sat on a low chair at some distance from her。 He had
  brought her a large bunch of early violets; for he knew that she
  was fond of flowers; and these lay upon her lap; against the
  opalescent grey of her gown。
  She seemed a little nervous and agitated; his obvious admiration
  bringing a ready blush to her cheeks。
  The room itself appeared to Armand to be a perfect frame for the
  charming picture which she presented。  The furniture in it was
  small and old; tiny tables of antique Vernis…Martin; softly faded
  tapestries; a pale…toned Aubusson carpet。  Everything mellow and
  in a measure pathetic。 Mademoiselle Lange; who was an orphan;
  lived alone under the duennaship of a middle…aged relative; a
  penniless hanger…on of the successful young actress; who acted as
  her chaperone; housekeeper; and maid; and kept unseemly or
  over…bold gallants at bay。
  She told Armand all about her early life; her childhood in the
  backshop of Maitre Meziere; the jeweller; who was a relative of
  her mother's; of her desire for an artistic career; her struggles
  with the middle…class prejudices of her relations; her bold
  defiance of them; and final independence。
  She made no secret of her humble origin; her want of education in
  those days; on the contrary; she was proud of what she had
  accomplished for herself。  She was only twenty years of age; and
  already held a leading place in the artistic world of Paris。
  Armand listened to her chatter; interested in everything she said;
  questioning her with sympathy and discretion。 She asked him a good
  deal about himself; and about his beautiful sister Marguerite;
  who; of course; had been the most brilliant star in that most
  brilliant constellation; the Comedie Francaise。  She had never
  seen Marguerite St。 Just act; but; of course; Paris still rang
  with her praises; and all art…lovers regretted that she should
  have married and left them to mourn for her。
  Thus the conversation drifted naturally back to England。
  Mademoiselle professed a vast interest in the citizen's country of
  adoption。
  〃I had always;〃 she said; 〃thought it an ugly country; with the
  noise and bustle of industrial life going on everywhere; and smoke
  and fog to cover the landscape and to stunt the trees。〃
  〃Then; in future; mademoiselle;〃 he replied; 〃must you think of it
  as one carpeted with verdure; where in the spring the orchard
  trees covered with delicate blossom would speak to you of
  fairyland; where the dewy grass stretches its velvety surface in
  the shadow of ancient monumental oaks; and ivy…covered towers rear
  their stately crowns to the sky。〃
  〃And the Scarlet Pimpernel?  Tell me about him; monsieur。〃
  〃Ah; mademoiselle; what can I tell you that you do not already
  know?  The Scarlet Pimpernel is a man who has devoted his entire
  existence to the benefit of suffering mankind。  He has but one
  thought; and that is for those who need him; he hears but one
  sound  the cry of the oppressed。〃
  〃But they do say; monsieur; that philanthropy plays but a sorry
  part in your hero's schemes。  They aver that he looks on his own
  efforts and the adventures through which he goes only in the light
  of sport。〃
  〃Like all Englishmen; mademoiselle; the Scarlet Pimpernel is a
  little ashamed of sentiment。  He would deny its very existence
  with his lips; even whilst his noble heart brimmed over with it。
  Sport? Well! mayhap the sporting instinct is as keen as that of
  charitythe race for lives; the tussle for the rescue of human
  creatures; the throwing of a life on the hazard of a die。〃
  〃They fear him in France; monsieur。  He has saved so many whose
  death had been decreed by the Committee of Public Safety。〃
  〃Please God; he will save many yet。〃
  〃Ah; monsieur; the poor little boy in the Temple prison!〃
  〃He has your sympathy; mademoiselle?〃
  〃Of every right…minded woman in France; monsieur。 Oh!〃 she added
  with a pretty gesture of enthusiasm; clasping her hands together;
  and looking at Armand with large eyes filled with tears; 〃if your
  noble Scarlet Pimpernel will do aught to save that poor innocent
  lamb; I would indeed bless him in my heart; and help him with all
  my humble might if I could。〃
  〃May God's saints bless you for those words; mademoiselle;〃 he
  said; whilst; carried away by her beauty; her charm; her perfect
  femininity; he stooped towards her until his knee touched the
  carpet at her feet。  〃I had begun to lose my belief in my poor
  misguided country; to think all men in France vile; and all women
  base。  I could thank you on my knees for your sweet words of
  sympathy; for the expression of tender motherliness that came into
  your eyes when you spoke of the poor forsaken Dauphin in the
  Temple。〃
  She did not restrain her tears; with her they came very easily;
  just as with a child; and as they gathered in her eyes and rolled
  down her fresh cheeks they iii no way marred the charm of her
  face。  One hand lay in her lap fingering a diminutive bit of
  cambric; which from time to time she pressed to her eyes。  The
  other she had almost unconsciously yielded to Armand。
  The scent of the violets filled the room。  It seemed to emanate
  from her; a fitting attribute of her young; wholly unsophisticated
  girlhood。  The citizen was goodly to look at; he was kneeling at
  her feet; and his lips were pressed against her hand。
  Armand was young and he was an idealist。  I do not for a moment
  imagine that just at this moment he was deeply in love。  The
  stronger feeling had not yet risen up in him; it came later when
  tragedy encompassed him and brought passion to sudden maturity。
  Just now he was merely yielding himself up to the intoxicating
  moment; with all the abandonment; all the enthusiasm of the Latin
  race。 There was no reason why he should not bend the knee before
  this exquisite little cameo; that by its very presence was giving
  him an hour of perfect pleasure and of aesthetic joy。
  Outside the world continued its hideous; relentless way; men
  butchered one another; fought and hated。  Here in this small
  old…world salon; with its faded satins and bits of ivory…tinted
  lace; the outer universe had never really penetrated。 It was a
  tiny worldquite apart from the rest of mankind; perfectly
  peaceful and absolutely beautiful。
  If Armand had been allowed to depart from here now; without having
  been the cause as well as the chief actor in the events that
  followed; no doubt that Mademoiselle Lange would always have
  remained a charming memory with him; an exquisite bouquet of
  violets pressed reverently between the leaves of a favourite book
  of poems; and the scent of spring flowers would in after years
  have ever brought her dainty picture to his mind。
  He was murmuring pretty words of endearment; carried away by
  emotion; his arm stole round her waist; he felt that if another
  tear came like a dewdrop rolling down her cheek he must kiss it
  away at its very source。  Passion was not sweeping them off their
  feetnot yet; for they were very young; and life had not as yet
  presented to them its most unsolvable problem。
  But they yielded to one another; to the springtime of their life;
  calling for Love; which would come presently hand in hand with his
  grim attendant; Sorrow。
  Even as Armand's glowing face was at last lifted up to hers asking
  with mute lips for that first kiss which she already was prepared
  to give; there came the loud noise of men's heavy footsteps
  tramping up the old oak stairs; then some shouting; a woman's cry;
  and the next moment Madame Belhomme; trembling; wide…eyed; and in
  obvious terror; came rushing into the room。
  〃Jeanne!  Jeanne!  My child!  It is awful!  It is a