第 1 节
作者:朝令夕改      更新:2021-02-21 16:09      字数:9321
  The Trampling of the Lilies
  by Rafael Sabatini
  CONTENTS
  PART I
  THE OLD RULE
  CHAPTER
  I。  MONSIEUR THE SECRETARY
  II。  LORDS OF LIFE AND DEATH
  III。  THE WORD OF BELLECOUR
  IV。  THE DISCIPLES OF ROUSSEAU
  PART II
  THE NEW RULE
  V。  THE SHEEP TURNED WOLVES
  VI。  THE CITIZEN COMMISSIONER
  VII。  LA BOULAYE DISCHARGES A DEBT
  VIII。  THE INVALIDS AT BOISVERT
  IX。  THE CAPTIVES
  X。  THE BAISER LAMOURETTE
  XI。  THE ESCAPE
  XII。  THE AWAKENING
  XIII。  THE ROAD TO LIEGE
  XIV。  THE COURIER
  XV。  LA BOULAYE BAITS HIS HOOK
  PART III
  THE EVERLASTING RULE
  XVI。  CECILE DESHAIX
  XVII。  LA BOULAYE'S PROMISE
  XVIII。  THE INCORRUPTIBLE
  XIX。  THE THEFT
  XX。  THE GRATITUDE OF OMBREVAL
  XXI。  THE ARREST
  XXII。  THE TRIBUNAL
  XXIII。  THE CONCIERGERIE
  PART I
  THE OLD RULE
  These are they
  Who ride on the court gale; control its tides;
  ***
  Whose frown abases and whose smile exalts。
  They shine like any rainbow … and; perchance;
  Their colours are as transient。
  Old Play
  CHAPTER I
  MONSIEUR THE SECRETARY
  It was spring at Bellecour … the spring of 1789; a short three months
  before the fall of the Bastille came to give the nobles pause; and
  make them realise that these new philosophies; which so long they
  have derided; were by no means the idle vapours they had deemed them。
  By the brook; plashing its glittering course through the park of
  Bellecour; wandered La Boulaye; his long; lean; figure clad with a
  sombreness that was out of harmony in that sunlit; vernal landscape。
  But the sad…hued coat belied that morning a heart that sang within
  his breast as joyously as any linnet of the woods through which he
  strayed。  That he was garbed in black was but the outward indication
  of his clerkly office; for he was secretary to the most noble the
  Marquis de Fresnoy de Bellecour; and so clothed in the livery of
  the ink by which he lived。  His face was pale and lean and thoughtful;
  but within his great; intelligent eyes there shone a light of
  new…born happiness。  Under his arm he carried a volume of the new
  philosophies which Rousseau had lately given to the world; and which
  was contributing so vastly to the mighty change that was impending。
  But within his soul there dwelt in that hour no such musty subject
  as the metaphysical dreams of old Rousseau。  His mood inclined
  little to the 〃Discourses upon the Origin of Inequality〃 which his
  elbow hugged to his side。  Rather was it a mood of song and joy and
  things of light; and his mind was running on a string of rhymes
  which mentally he offered up to his divinity。  A high…born lady was
  she; daughter to his lordly employer; the most noble Marquis of
  Bellecour。  And he a secretary; a clerk!  Aye; but a clerk with a
  great soul; a secretary with a great belief in the things to come;
  which in that musty tome beneath his arm were dimly prophesied。
  And as he roamed beside the brook; his feet treading the elastic;
  velvety turf; and crushing heedlessly late primrose and stray violet;
  his blood quickened by the soft spring breeze; fragrant with hawthorn
  and the smell of the moist brown earth; La Boulaye's happiness
  gathered strength from the joy that on that day of spring seemed to
  invest all Nature。  An old…world song stole from his firm lips…at
  first timidly; like a thing abashed in new surroundings; then in
  bolder tones that echoed faintly through the trees
  〃Si le roi m'avait donne
  Paris; sa grande ville;
  Et qui'il me fallut quitter
  L'amour de ma mie;
  Je dirais au roi Louis
  Reprenez votre Paris。
  J'aime mieux ma mie; O gai!
  J'aime mieux ma mie!〃
  How mercurial a thing is a lover's heart!  Here was one whose habits
  were of solemnity and gloomy thought turned; so joyous that he could
  sing aloud; alone in the midst of sunny Nature; for no better reason
  than that Suzanne de Bellecour had yesternight smiled as … for some
  two minutes by the clock … she had stood speaking with him。
  〃Presumptuous that I am;〃 said he to the rivulet; to contradict
  himself the next moment。  〃But no; the times are changing。  Soon we
  shall be equals all; as the good God made us; and … 〃
  He paused; and smiled pensively。  And as again the memory of her
  yesternight's kindness rose before him; his smile broadened; it
  became a laugh that went ringing down the glade; scaring a noisy
  thrush into silence and sending it flying in affright across the
  scintillant waters of the brook。  Then that hearty laugh broke
  sharply off; as; behind him; the sweetest voice in all the world
  demanded the reason of this mad…sounding mirth。
  La Boulaye's breath seemed in that instant to forsake him and he
  grew paler than Nature and the writer's desk had fashioned him。
  Awkwardly he turned and made her a deep bow。
  〃 Mademoiselle!  You … you see that you surprised me!〃 he faltered;
  like a fool。  For how should he; whose only comrades had been books;
  have learnt to bear himself in the company of a woman; particularly
  when she belonged to the ranks of those whom … despite Rousseau and
  his other dear philosophers … he had been for years in the habit of
  accounting his betters?
  〃 Why; then; I am glad; Monsieur; that I surprised you in so gay a
  humour … for; my faith; it is a rare enough thing。〃
  〃True; lady;〃 said he foolishly; yet politely agreeing with her;
  〃it is a rare thing。〃  And he sighed … 〃Helas!〃
  At that the laughter leapt from her young lips; and turned him hot
  and cold as be stood awkwardly before her。
  〃I see that we shall have you sad at the thought of how rare is
  happiness; you that but a moment back were … or so it seemed … so
  joyous。  Or is it that my coming has overcast the sky of your good
  humour?〃 she demanded archly。
  He blushed like a school…girl; and strenuously protested that it was
  not so。  In his haste he fell headlong into the sin of hastiness …
  as was but natural … and said perhaps too much。
  〃Your coming; Mademoiselle?〃 he echoed。  〃Nay but even had I been
  sad; your coming must have dispelled my melancholy as the coming of
  the sun dispels the mist upon the mountains。〃
  〃A poet?〃  She mocked him playfully; with a toss of black curls and
  a distracting glance of eyes blue as the heavens above them。 〃A
  poet; Monsieur; and I never suspected it; for all that I held you a
  great scholar。  My father says you are。〃
  〃Are we not all poets at some season of our lives?〃 quoth he; for
  growing accustomed to her presence … ravished by it; indeed … his
  courage was returning fast and urging him beyond the limits of
  discretion。
  〃And in what season may this rhyming fancy touch us?〃 she asked。
  〃Enlighten me; Monsieur。〃
  He smiled; responsive to her merry mood; and his courage ever
  swelling under the suasion of it; he answered her in a fearless;
  daring fashion that was oddly unlike his wont。  But then; he was
  that day a man transformed。
  〃 It comes; Mademoiselle; upon some spring morning such as this …
  for is not spring the mating season; and have not poets sung of it;
  inspired and conquered by it?  It comes in the April of life; when
  in our hearts we bear the first fragrant bud of what shall anon
  blossom into a glorious summer bloom red as is Love's livery and
  perfumed beyond all else that God has set on earth for man's delight
  and thankfulness。〃
  The intensity with which he spoke; and the essence of the speech
  itself; left her a moment dumb with wonder and with an
  incomprehensible consternation; born of some intuition not yet
  understood。
  〃And so; Monsieur; the Secretary;〃 said she at last; a nervous
  laugh quivering in her first words; 〃from all this wondrous verbiage
  I am to take it that you love?〃
  〃Aye; that I love; dear lady;〃 he cried; his eyes so intent upon her
  that her glance grew timid and fell before them。 And then; a second
  later; she could have screamed aloud in apprehension; for the book
  of Jean Jacques Rousseau lay tumbled in the grass where he had flung
  it; even as he flung himself upon his knees before her。  〃You may
  take it indeed that I love … that I love you; Mademoiselle。〃
  The audacious words being spoken; his courage oozed away and
  anti…climax; followed。  He paled and trembled; yet he knelt on until
  she should bid him rise; and furtively he watched her face。  He saw
  it darken; he saw the brows knit; he noted the quickening breath;
  and in all these signs he read his doom before she uttered it。
  〃Monsieur; monsieur;〃 she answered him; and sad was her tone; 〃to
  what lengths do you urge this springtime folly?  Have you forgotten
  so your station … yes; and mine … that because I talk with you and
  laugh with you; and am kind to you; you must presume to speak to me
  in this fashion?  What answer shall I make you; Monsieur … for I am
  not so cruel that I can answer you as you deserve。〃
  An odd thing indeed was La Boulaye's courage。  An instant ago he had
  felt a very coward; and had quivered; appalled by the audacity of
  his own words。  Now that she assailed him thus; and taxed him with
  that same audacity; the blood of anger rushed to his face … anger of
  the quality that has its source in shame。  In a second he